1001 First Lines is in the last half of the project. Have I even mentioned it here? I’m putting together a book called 1001 First Lines- it’s exactly how it sounds. I thought the hard part was over- finding the lines and going through second and third draft to make sure the first lines were correct, formatting and laying it out.

I’m designing the front cover at the moment and after that I’m a bit loss. I’ve got a book about self publishing which will hopefully guide me and I know a lot of writers who have taken the jump so I’m wondering if they’ll be open to me and my mountainous avalanche of questions. I would love to have it printed but I don’t want to use Amazon’s POD because I’m a pedantic designer and I have a very clear vision as to the quality I want for my book. I think it’s a curse being a writer and designer because it makes it so much more challenging just to get a book printed. I have to ensure I’m happy with the quality of the paper, the printing, the colour, the layout. I was looking at the books in the bookstore today and noted all the gold foil or the letterpress appearance, the different textures of paper, the printing techniques used. I wonder how I can do this myself.

Whatever happens I’m beginning with ebook publishing. And then I’ll print one paperback copy for myself, I think through blurb.com and see how it looks and then if it takes off I’ll print off a batch of paperbacks and offer them up for sale.

But first… ISBN and all that stuff!

Untapped, unrecognized skills

There’s a lot of untapped creativity in the world. One Sentence is a website of “True stories, told in one sentence.” For a person to have that skill, to refine what they want to say right down to the very basic element- and make sure there’s a beginning, middle, and end, it’s beautiful. And hilarious. Here, enjoy some:

Today I used a letter from the debt collector’s office as proof of residence, in order to collect my new credit card.

One busted ceiling, one surgery, $2,000, four days of tube feeding and five nights on my bed later: my cat is safe.

When my religious grandmother told me that she thought it was “disgusting for gays to marry,” I realized that she would never come to my wedding.

I was the only one, between my sister and my two cousins, who could empty the steam cleaner after cleaning grandpa’s blood out of the carpet.

While we’re on the topic of language, I’m going to share this image with you. His voice will stick in your mind for a good half an hour afterwards. Almost as good as the one to the right.

Being the writer you are

I really needed a boost the other day, and a friend of mine posted the blog of Jennifer Cruise on Facebook. The secondary factor being the site is just gorgeous design wise, the entry she linked: A writer without a publisher is like a fish without a bicycle, Writers Liberation and You- is grand. She compares the struggles of the writer to the struggles of women’s liberation. How the rules that guided women back then were absurd, yet were followed unquestioningly and today we should ask ourselves the same sort of questions with our relationship with writing, and having a publisher and/or agent.

What it truly means to be a writer, and if having a publisher finally makes you a writer or if you were a writer all along (I know the answer to this one! ).

Writing tool exercises

More to share! Well, one more. I like this one.

Writing tool #12: Control the pace (the length of sentences, use to your advantage).

Calder lined each element of the recipe beside each other and then tapped them with her finger, from left to right, to run through the recipe process once more in her mind. Flour, milk, butter, baking soda, coca, sugar, icing sugar, red food dye, thickened cream, jam. Mixing bowl- large, mixing bowl- small, cake tin, spatula, mixing spoon, tasting teaspoon, electric mixer, electric mixer utensils, tea towel, and running her clean hands down the front of her body, her apron- ironed.

The oven was hot and ready by the time the cake was partitioned, combined, mixed for three minutes and thirty seconds, and poured into the 23 centimetre diameter cake tin. The cake went in, the timer to thirty aromatic minutes. With superhero skills she applied herself to the dishes. Washed, stacked side by side as plates and then bowls, finally cutlery. Ducking her neck she pulled her apron off and examined it. Still white from corner to corner. She replaced it back upon it’s designated hook beside the refrigerator.

The timer rang. The scent of cocoa filled the air. She took the cake out with oven-mit hands and placed it upon the stove top. It sprang beneath her fingers. A brief smile was permitted. She unhinged the side of the cake tin and could almost hear the exhale it let out. She turned to the counter.

Everything was washed and dried and packed away. The last thing she needed wasn’t there. Her muscles tensed in her shoulders, her neck, her hands. He scouted the bench from left to right. Flinging open cupboard doors her mind reached back to the shopping mall. She hadn’t gone to Porcelain City. She hadn’t gone to Porcelain City. She pushed serving trays and glass bowls and glass dishes aside to see into the depths. She hadn’t gone to Porcelain City. With meticulous precision she put each item back in to their original place, desperate to get in to the next cupboard. That was another failed venture.

She hadn’t gone to Porcelain City.

There was no cake stand for her red chocolate ripple cake. It was written on the top of her shopping list, and as she slumped back on her knees she immediately knew her mistake. IT was the first thing and she’d jumped since the supermarket was closer. Of course she hadn’t gone to Porcelain City. There wasn’t any logical reason for her to go back to the top of the list. She never skipped. Not until today.

She stared hopelessly at the cooling cake from the floor. The anxiety squeezed her chest, her hands and shoulders still seized with tension.

She climbed to her feet. With a hand in the oven mit she picked up the bottom of the cake tin. She moved across the kitchen and put it on the bench. She opened the cupboard door beneath the sink, drew out the garbage bin and dumped the warm, chocolate cake in. It broke and oozed against plastic wrappers, apple cores, disinfectant tissues.

She washed the cake tin, dried it and put it back with the other tins. She grabbed her keys and left the house with one thing on her shopping list. Porcelain City.

My writing process works the same way. It’s important for me to let my subconscious do what it needs to until I’m ready to move on. I trust it sunk in. In the meantime I’m reading:

We by Yevgeny Zamyatin

What a beautiful book. Very easy to read and I can see why Orwell was inspired to write 1984 after getting his hands on a copy of this. Can’t believe it wasn’t published until 1988, suppressed by the government since 1921! And apparently this is the only one of the top three Dystopians (1984, Brave New World, and We) in which the writer lived within the society he wrote about. Facinating. The book feels nice too, it’s been printed on this really smooth paper that feels luxurious to the touch.

The weather this week has been extraordinary. I get out of bed, pull back the blinds and check for clouds. Not one to be seen. I gather up my typewriter, pen, highlighter, iphone (to play Streaming Soundtracks on TuneIn Radio), drag a chair and use the small laptop desk out in the carport and stay out there until the clouds cross the sun or disappears behind the house. I managed to score a tan yesterday.

When I take my typewriter I do some writing exercises from the 50 Writing Tools (Roy Peter Clark). Some I skip as a lot of them are applicable mostly to journalists and others are ones I have to read something and analyse it to identify what he’s talking about. For more information about each tool you can check them out here at Fifty Writing Tools Quick Reference. He also has a free podcast that goes through each one!

Let me share with you some of the ones I wrote out.

Writing Tool #2: Use Strong Verbs:

Beth jumped down the stairs. She shoved the key into the lock and with a turn flung the door open. Her apartment was quiet and dark. Locking the door behind her with three latches she flicked the light on and turned, wondering what first she should get to to fill the room with life and noise. The coffee machine. Within a minute it bubbled and gurgled and filled the glass pot. The TV was on next, joined by the faint hum of her laptop and the clatter of paint brushes and plastic water pots into the sink to be cleaned and ready for her session of painting the next morning. The water gushed, the pipes groaned in the walls, and she smiled, not feeling so alone anymore.

Writing Tool #8: Seek Original Images (avoiding cliches in metaphors and similies):

The pair of dogs sprung at each other like two mattress coils beneath a copulating couple.

The apartment buildings lined like soviet soldiers in faded grey uniforms. Shoulder to shoulder as the people moved through the streets. They would keep out the coldest winter winds and the hottest summer sun. They would keep in the workers.

He ate like a Nazi knowing the camps had been found and this was his last meal.

Writing Tool #12: Control the Pace:

The plane ducked and tumbled. The left wing dipped. Bullets fanned into the side, the whistling air through the puncture holes distracting the pilot. He glanced behind him to the pencil thin lines of light criss crossing through the darkness of the plane. The cargo was untouched but crushed to one side from the loop-the-loop and it would have to go again, the fire coming at him from ahead.

He turned the wheel. The gears stuck in to his thigh. He craned his head to arch away from the seatbelt cutting in to his neck. The windscreen shattered. The plane dived, the pilot unable to see through the glass in his eyes.

I learned about active vs passive verbs this week. I’m 26, can you believe it? It’s fantastic.

My need to read everything at once, do everything at once, is a virus inside me. I want to snap my fingers and it’s done. Writing book, my research, reading, designing. I am in about five projects currently, but getting through Dramatica is on top of my list. What is Dramatica? Oh let me impart the knowledge upon thee:
Dramatica is

a whole new theory of story.

You know how I’ve been learning of the Hero’s Journey? This is another approach to the way you can tell a story. It intergrates Characters, Themes, Plot, and Genre into what is called The Story Mind. I was reading onwards and upwards when I came to a point where it was no longer skimming over my head but I’m pretty sure it spun out of orbit. So I’ve been working backwards to where I understand it and have had to look up some videos about it and podcasts. I love videos, I love people sitting down and explaining it to me. It really, really helps.

And in seeking out videos about it I realised I didn’t know shit about The Storymind. Melanie Anne Phillips is the woman who explains the theory in the videos. I sort of like their homey ameture feel. Here’s one of the videos that has Melanie trying to explain it:

Dramatica Theory Overview

Lets see if I can explain the very beginning idea which, so they’ve said, once you get a handle on it then the rest comes a bit easier. I’ll be so off par:

The Story Mind is the concept of Character, Plot, Theme and Genre all working together as one mind. As a human brain. The motivations, the actions and decisions, the atmosophere, the direction and purpose all come together to create the character of the story. I’m not talking about the characters in the story, I’m talking about the entirety of the creation. As if the story is a person and these collaborating elements fire off like neurons and electrons and if you have too many overlapping, or you don’t have enough you could end up with a story that has split personalities or a story that doesn’t have enough personality.

I think. And that’s really struggling. Melanie talks about it and I sit there and feel my brain thinking, feel it sponging up everything she’s explaining and there will be a brilliant ‘aha!’ moment and it’s crystal clear and then that pretty much just dies. So I know I’m grasping it but I have to keep pushing it in to my brain until it clicks, sort of like maths. Once I’ve got it, I’ve got it no problems. But up until that point I have to analyse it, I have to work it out in my head, on paper, I have to have someone explain it to me and then read it and then try it out again and again.

But I know there’s a lot there and I’d really like to learn it all even if it doesn’t benefit me. Having the awareness is better than going in naive. Even if it imparts a little wisdom from knowing what I don’t want to do with my stories or how that won’t work for me is worth something.

Whatever happens from here on in, I’m trying out my last novel A Slave to Karma which is in the drafting process on it and I’ve already, in the first stage of analysis/editing, identified the main issue of the drive of the book and how I can improve it ten fold.

20 points for Scarlett.

I have no muse.

Not a single one.

I read a post over at Jami Gold‘s blog about her relationship with her muse, or the voice in her head that strikes unexpectedly whom she converses with to develop her ideas.

Don’t get me wrong, my ideas strike like any other writer. And for whatever mystical reason the shower is the gold mine- right? But I’ve never envisioned it as a specific thing I actually talk to.

Now to the other side: I do often feel like its a source outside of myself that I tap in to, like my higher self is constantly working away to my benefit and knows exactly what’s happening. I’m a flow writer, I’m a writer who waits for things to fall into place. I apply a little pressure but know that along the line, so long as I follow my instincts and keep searching things will eventually fall into place. And they do, every time. Those “Of course!” moments where you don’t know how the story would have functioned without it.

I just don’t see it as an invisible friend. I don’t see it as something that’s not part of me exactly but… I don’t see it as something that is apart of me day to day. It’s the higher self of me working, waiting, and I’m patient with it.

The end.

It’ll go something like this:

[start]

Lucy opened the door and ushered David in before her.

“David there’s something I have to tell you.”

He looked at her with his eyebrow cocked, his body slowly sinking down to a hardened plastic chair beside the desk.

“Don’t look nervous, it’s just a suspicion I have. David, I think your wife is having an affair with someone else.”

“What? Lucy why are you telling me this?”

With a sigh she took her place beside him, squatting down with her arms planted upon her knees. She struggled to look him in the eye. “I can’t tell you exactly why but just believe me when I say I have my doubts.”

“You can’t tell me? You can’t make an accusation like that out of the blue and not back it up with some sort of evidence.”

“I know I know,” she said through a tense jaw. Her frustration drew stress lines over her brow, her eyes scanning the linoleum floor in search of a way to deliver the news kindly.

“Lucy what’s this about? Are you… are you trying to do this as some kind of revenge?”

“What?” She shot up, her knee jarring when it locked in place.

“Ever since I rejected you. I wasn’t sure about it but now I think I see. You resent me because I turned you down that time.”

“David that’s stupid.”

[end]

This is a general example of what I come across in novels and includes two people who have gone into an office to talk. Between the two of them David says Lucy’s name twice in the conversation and Lucy says David’s name three times.

Don’t misunderstand me. I understand the use of the name can bring emphasis to dialogue, to really get the punchy part home. But all too often in so many books from the greatest to the worst, and even in movies, people use the other person’s name so often that it’s just so unrealistic. THEY’RE THE ONLY TWO PEOPLE IN THE SCENE/ROOM.

example 2

In the movie The Edge, featuring Anthony Hopkins and Alec Baldwin, it’s about two men who get lost in the forest of somewhere and have a bit of manly time while basically hating each other’s guts because they both love the same woman: Charles’ wife. Here’s a little bit of the dialogue:

Charles Morse: For all my life, I’ve have wanted to do something that was, um, that was unequivocal.
Robert Green: Well, Charlie, I certainly think this qualifies.
Charles Morse: Or something.
Robert Green: See, Charles, that’s why they call it personal growth. A month ago, old Smokey here would’ve reared up, you probably would’ve called your lawyer!
Charles Morse: Nah, I wouldn’t do that to an animal.

This movie is littered with unnecessary uses of names, more so on the side of Charles than Robert. I come away from this film with the name Charles, Charles, Charles! reeling around in my head. And yet they’re the ONLY TWO OUT IN THE BLOODY FOREST. Who the hell else would you be talking to?

Example 3

There’s another awful movie with Val Kilmer in it called The Steam Experiment. Yeah it’s as bad as it sounds. A weird ass Val Kilmer is some psycho who locks these people in to a steam room as a social experiment to watch them suffer as the heat is turned up over the course of the movie.

Given in this situation people are undoubtedly going to go crazy. I get that. But there is one moment when one of the girls in the steam room is obviously trying to get the attention of Chris, who is standing maybe three feet from her- in a steam room no bigger than your regular bedroom. There’s no steam hindering her sight, she can see him as clear as day. And as he stares vacantly at the floor she screams,

“CHRIS!” This isn’t just a scream. She screams is about five times. She screams it as if he’s on the other side of the door they can’t open. She’s obviously trying to snap him out of his stupor and get answers from him, some sort of suggestion of help to get them out of the steam room. But she’s NOT A METER FROM HIM. You could whisper, woman! And he’d still hear you!

Obviously they’ve used this to emphasise her levels of panic and fear but the way they deliver it, it is out of the blue.

The punch line

It seems to have become the norm in writing books to infiltrate the dialogue with constant uses of a name but my message is this: If the dialogue remains the same without it then take it out! It wouldn’t happen in real life, so why does it happen in the books?

This- I stress- does not apply to all situations. There are a few drop of names in books where it works, and works well. And there are some times in real life where you do use the other person’s name even if it’s just you two, like using it instead of saying “Seriously” should that person make a distasteful joke or say something wrong or out of turn. Parents do it all the time, totally called for.

And anyway this is just my opinion. One of six billion and I think probably, like, two people read this? But I really had to get this out. Big pet peeve.

Use their names wisely, kids!

So here you have- why you should publish with Smashwords by J A Marlow:

Distributing through Smashwords

It could be seen as an assault on the publishing front. Suddenly the published world is full of books and stories that wouldn’t ever otherwise make the cut. But it’s drawn me in and I’d consider putting stuff out there that I know would always find the trash basket of the agent or publisher’s office.

The Shiny by Necia Phoenix

Anyway, I’m always interested to read the stories of friends and I just downloaded a short story called The Shiny by Necia Phoenix. It’s only two and a bit pages long, and it’s fun! It’s about the writer dealing with new ideas when they strike. Really easy to read if you’ve got fresh cuppa tea and a couple of bikkies. So I’m recommending that you go and have a look and a download, for only 0.99c. Pfft what’s a buck these days eh?

Now I’ve applied myself to writing as a student. It’s been a mind blowing journey and it’s happened because I’m re-writing The Wizard of Oz. I refuse to go in to it willy-nilly. The Wizard of Oz is something that needs to be honoured and approached with integrity, honesty, and with the best preparation. It has to be handled with care and thoughtfulness. As a classic I want to understand the originals- all texts- as they were truly meant to be understood.

The Point of this Entry:

Learning is daunting. You always question yourself, what is wrong and what is right? But this is writing. Nothing is wrong, nothing is right. You have to stay true to your inner voice- that’s the most important thing. Being skilled in anything has stages and before you can create and have choice you must learn the foundations, the basics. Then you can have flow.

I’m learning the foundations. Structure and the history of story telling and archetypes and recognizing that in all sorts of texts I’m coming across.

How it Happened:

If ever I was going to write a novel that would best bring out all the different elements of story telling, structure, and analysis The Wizard of Oz would be it. It hurts me that I’m putting so much time and energy in to such a project, unlike any I’ve ever written in the past, and that I don’t expect I’ll be able to publish it or make profits off it. I haven’t researched it and I may be wrong but I have to put my ego aside on that part and remember why I’m doing this.

I’m doing this because there’s something in me that wants to retell this with the strength and power of twenty-first century perspective. Back then it was a commentary for politics, of the workers and labourers vs the government and I think that still stands today.

In order to honour the true form of The Wizard of Oz I’ve dived deep into The Hero’s Journey- as you can see by my latest blog posts. This has lead me to Joseph Campbell and Christopher Vogler. Then I stretched out to other lands on the internet and in paperback and I really started understanding how the structure of Oz relies so heavily on Campbell’s analysis and vice versa.

James Hull is the guy who runs Story Fanatic. I’ve been driving through his articles and he’s blessed me with some extra perspective on all of these texts that tell the writer how to structure your story- including The Hero’s Journey (and he also refers to Save The Cat, which I also have but it’s hiding somewhere and I can’t find it).

James drills home the point that story structure is there to support the argument, but cannot tell your story for you. Having awareness of how ‘fifteen beats’ or ‘the Hero’s Journey’ can support or guide your story is good but when you- the author- have a story these guides should not have any reign over how it is told.

If you story is best told without a “Ressurection” or “Meeting with the Mentor” stage then that’s it. Don’t include it just because it’s apart of someone elses interpretation of how a story should be told.

When I read this I felt ashamed. I felt ashamed as a writer, that I didn’t know better, that I was’t looking at it objectively. That there are parts of Oz that may not need The Hero’s Journey applied or it doesn’t work in that structure, it needs to be shifted around. I’ve been a writer for how many years now? Why can’t I be smarter at this?

And I’m learning this in my 18 year of writing if you can believe it. But no, I’m not ashamed I’ve decided. I’m learning and that’s what the process of loving something is all about. Learning, developing, growing. No matter how old you are, how long you’ve been doing it for you can always grow.

The Truth:

There you have it. I’m 26 years old, I’ve been writing for 18 years and I’m on my 11th novel. And it’s only now I think I’m becoming a good writer. But I’m not a slow learner. I’m quick. And I’m intelligent. My journey as a writer isn’t a reflection at my inability to grow or understand or get better. This is my writing journey, not anyone elses, and this is how it’s played out. The Universe is telling me “You’re ready to get this now.”

Remember: Intelligence is not how much you know, but how willing you are to learn.

The theory, as supported by Strunk and White, is that the particulars in the sentence that you want to bring attention to should come at the end. Roy Peter Clark suggests also the beginning, leaving the middle for the muddle. Place the emphatic words of a sentence at the end. [The Elements of Style, Strunk & White, pg 32]

This was really challenging for me. I think it moreso applies to journalists since they deal so heavily in subject, verb, exposition, but I think I may have narrowed it down at least. I don’t know if I got it though.

Some examples:

Scarecrow closed the door before she could say any more, his heart hollowing out when he realised Dorothy was a doll filled with the dreams and ideas of the people around her but on closer inspection she was porcelain. Dorothy was a reflective pool with nothing beneath the surface; it terrified Scarecrow.

He tugged at his tie until it came loose and sat on the soft bench at the end of the large bed. He ran the events of the last weeks through his head and was convinced she once existed. There was a mutual attraction between them, he didn’t regret letting her in but once he did, she vanished. There was a trick was being played on him.

—-

Her feet hit the ground but the Earth wasn’t moving beneath her. Each muscle from the ankle up to her backside burned, twisted, teased her with pain before misleading her momentarily through relief and, finally, sizzling up like hot iron rods.

—-

Going through these means I’m turning a bit to the Strunk and White which, to me, is a bit full on. I don’t know if my writing is improving but my awareness is definitely gaining.