Monthly Archives: June 2019

Should You Write Dreck?

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

Last week we talked about the “telling detail,” and the power it adds. We gave some tips on how to craft such moments. That requires a thing called work.

Today we’re going to ask: is it worth the effort?

This query comes out of a post by Mr. Joe Konrath. He was, most of you will remember, one of the earliest and most enthusiastic adopters of self-publishing. He was also a prolific blogger, and not one to shy away from a strong opinion. Then, a couple of years ago, he went silent. Now he’s back, and clearly he’s lost none of his verve, as evidenced by his post On Writing S*** (this being a family blog, I have made a slight edit to the title).

The gist of the piece is that it may be pointless for today’s writer of indie fiction to spend too much time trying to improve the quality of his writing:

My first drafts are pretty good. They’re lean, and fast, and the character arcs and plot rarely need tweaking. The rewrite polish is mostly spent on housekeeping stuff; adding color, exploding certain scenes, adding more drama to the climax, salting in a few more jokes, changing word choices, putting in a few more clues or callbacks.

And sometimes a book is short, say around 60k words, I’ll spend time expanding some scenes or adding a few to beef it up to 70k+, because I want to give good value to the readers who still pay for my stuff rather than read it via KU.

So I spend a full 1/3 of my time as a writer trying to make a grade B book into a grade A book.

I think I’m wasting my time.

He goes on to say that readers of an author will stick with that author even if subsequent books in a series are not as good as the first few. His argument, broken down, goes like this:

Better isn’t actually better.

More is better.

Faster is better.

Flash beats substance.

Loyalty trumps all.

Konrath’s main exhibit is his wife’s reading habits. She will stick with an author she has liked in the past, even if the author’s new books aren’t so hot.

To be clear, Konrath’s post does not actually advocate its title. He does not think you can write pure dreck and get away with it. He says he couldn’t live with producing a work that’s “less than a grade C … But I could live with Bs. I was fine with getting Bs in school. Why put in all that extra work to turn a B into an A when I won’t lose readers for a B?”

It’s a good question, so let’s talk about it. A few reflections:

  1. Several A-list, traditionally-published writers have, over the last several years, “mailed it in.” Some have kicked up their output to satisfy publishers, who need them more than ever for the ol’ bottom line. Some of these more recent books have wider margins and fewer total words. Yet still they sell…though perhaps with some fall off, if reviews are any indication.
  2. A little fall off from an A-list writer still brings in big bucks.
  3. More is better does not always pay off. You still have to meet a certain minimum of storytelling skill.
  4. There many prolific indies (Konrath is one) who do have the skill and thus make more money the more they produce.
  5. For me, pride plays a role. I worked hard on a traditionally published legal thriller trilogy I’m very proud of. Indeed, I think the last line of the last book is the most perfect ending of my career. I re-wrote that last scene at least a dozen times. I’d do it again to gain the same effect. (FYI, the first book of the trilogy, Try Dying, is free today in the Kindle store).
  6. I write a book and work on it until I think it’s the best I can do within a time limit. I’ve got SIDs (self-imposed deadlines) and readers who want more of my stuff. Sometimes I miss a SID.
  7. If I miss a SID, I don’t cancel my contract. I do give myself a stern talking-to.
  8. I write to entertain, and for me that includes going for what John D. MacDonald called “unobtrusive poetry” in the style. This requires, once again, work.
  9. I also like being prolific which, in the “old days,” meant a book a year. As an indie, I can do more, and also include a regular output of short fiction.
  10. “The most critical thing a writer does is produce.” — Robert B. Parker.

So…where do you come out on this scale of craft, care, prolificity, faster, better?

Do you stick with an author or series no matter the quality of recent books?

If You Want Pace & Tension – Stick with the Action – First Page Critique of ESCALATION

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JordanDane

@JordanDane

 

A brave anonymous author has submitted their first 400 word beginning to their novel for feedback. My thoughts will follow the author’s submission. Please add your constructive criticism in your comments. Enjoy!

***

ESCALATION

Chapter 1

Conversation was almost impossible over the sound of the siren and the roar of the ambulance’s diesel engine. Zach felt with his right hand for the siren tone switch without taking his eyes off the road. He flipped the switch to change the siren from the long monotonous wail to the rapid repetitive yelp that would alert the motorists in the busy intersection they were quickly approaching. Ana also intermittently hit the air horn to add another dimension to the sound.

Threading the needle of these busy intersections had become second nature to Zach. He had worked for the Sova County ambulance service for the past three years and had seen the increase in traffic with the county’s growth. His calm expression never changed as he muttered, “You stupid ass!” when a pale yellow late model Toyota Camry plowed through the light. The driver, bobbing his head in time with some unheard beat, was oblivious to the ambulance’s flashing lights and blaring siren. Zach came to a stop and made eye contact with the other drivers before proceeding through the intersection. A red Bronco came barreling around the curve and almost collided with a dark blue Honda pulled to the curb to allow the ambulance to pass. Zach steered through the maze of skewed vehicles with practiced precision. Once they were clear of the traffic, he gunned the engine. Fortunately, the day was bright and clear. It was better not to have the weather as a hazard; the traffic was definitely enough.

“Are you familiar with the area we’re going to?” Ana asked while shading her eyes from the gleam of sunlight reflecting off the side mirror of the truck. Her face felt just short of sunburned from the early morning sun beating down on her side of the ambulance.

Analyn Michaels, a pretty, petite girl with wavy light brown hair that fell just below her shoulders, had been partnered with Zach for the past eleven months. She tugged at the seatbelt cutting into the side of her neck and glanced over at him.

***

FEEDBACK

OVERVIEW – There is a sense of urgency as the ambulance races through the streets in the first paragraph. The heavy wordiness of that paragraph and the longer sentences contradict the urgency and I will rewrite that intro to show what I mean. (See the feedback below in – FIRST PARAGRAPH REWRITE.)

With the start of paragraph 2, the story action slows to a crawl with a backstory dump and the county history on traffic patterns. There is plenty of time to explain the guy’s resume and add to the setting of the story, but if the author dares to write a suspenseful opener, I always recommend – STICK WITH THE ACTION and explain later.

That long heavy paragraph shows Zach fighting traffic, but the sense of urgency is gone. He can be calm by nature of his character, but it’s the author’s job to convey the adrenaline rush to the reader. We can all imagine how tense Zach must be and how hard it must be to deal with bad drivers at busy intersections. Make the reader feel the tension and that a life is on the line.

By the time we get to Ana, the pace is gone as she shades her eyes from the sun and thinks about her sunburn. The description of her is another form of backstory that can wait, if the author’s intention is action and a medical urgency that has the ambulance weaving through traffic with sirens blaring. Ana also reflects on how long she’s been partnered with Zach as the seat belt cuts her neck because of their high speed race.

This introduction is conflicted between the stifled action and bad writing habits that slow the pace, but there is good news. We have ALL made these errors and sought improvement.

These are only my thoughts based on my assumptions on where this story might be going. Take any of my advice for what it is worth, dear author. FREE! I tend to imagine your intention and try to work with what is written. I offer advice based upon what I would edit in my own work. You may not like what I have to say and that’s okay.

TITLE – ESCALATION is not a bad title. I can visualize an action-packed cover and the sense of a thrilling medical drama, but I wanted this introduction to match the adrenaline surge of an EMT/Ambulance driver racing through traffic with the life of a patient on the line. Not all medical fiction books will have a title to match the intro, but this one makes sense since it appears to focus on the EMTs.

POV – I can’t see a particular point of view in this short intro. No telling if Zach is the lead/main character or Ana. Since we get Ana’s full name, it could be that SHE is the one to tell this story, but the focus is on Zach. I would recommend picking a main POV character per scene. Zach may not be the HERO of this story, but I would advise the author to clearly pick ONE POV and stick with it.

At present, this intro is not in Zach’s POV, not when Ana flips the air horn switch in the first paragraph, without being seen from Zach’s eyes. Also, Zach can’t know that the seat belt is cutting Ana’s neck at the end. This intro reads like “head hopping.” Even though we don’t know who the main character is, we still need ONE POV to see this action through.

I tend to pick the character with the most to lose or who has the best emotional vantage point. In this intro, that could be Ana, who has to watch as Zach barrels through traffic like a mad man. Or it could be Zach as he battles the traffic while watching Ana cringe, but pick a point of view and work the emotion.

NAMES – I’m not sure why Ana has a full name AND a nickname, but Zach has only a first name. I would suggest giving characters their full names as soon as you can, even if these characters aren’t the hero or heroine. By giving each character a name, it gives context to the reader and an author can write a fuller characterization with more voice if the character has a name.

On the second book I sold, I had a anonymous bad guy get killed in the intro. It wasn’t until I christened him with a full name, that I could tap into his inner voice and give him an arrogance where he deserved to die. It became more interesting.

FIRST PARAGRAPH REWRITE – I tried picturing a white knuckle ride through a busy intersection as I thought of how to rewrite this. With an action scene, the sentences should be shorter, punchy and filled with action imagery. Fragments are fine. You are conveying a sense of urgency to the reader and pulling adrenaline from them as they read, to get a visceral response. I also added DEEP POV, which are Ana’s thoughts in italics, that inner voice we all have. Mine are usually curses.

REWRITE EXAMPLE 1

Analyn Michaels gripped an armrest and held her breath. Oh, God! Streetlights had changed. Cars ignored the blaring siren. In seconds their ambulance would hit the busy intersection. Watch it! She winced. Ana wanted to trust Zach behind the wheel, but it wasn’t easy.

“Hold on. This’ll be tight.” He glanced at her sideways with a smirk. Smart ass!

An SUV lurched in front of a butt ugly Camry to make a turn. Damn it! The driver of the SUV never saw their flashing emergency lights. Ana reached for the air horn and flipped the switch. At the sound, the SUV screeched in front of them. Ana braced her body as Zach swerved to miss the bastard.

The roar of the ambulance engine rumbled in her gut. Ana fought the adrenaline surging through her veins. When they cleared the worst intersection, Zach gunned the diesel engine. Precious seconds ticked by.

Ana hoped they’d make it on time.

This is a quick rewrite. I would normally play with this more and go back to add layers of emotion, but I hope this conveys urgency and action and puts the reader in the front seat. There are smells to add of burned rubber or diesel fumes or beverages spilling on a tight turn. I made the assumption they were heading TO an emergency and not hauling someone to the hospital, since both of them are in the front. But imagine that you have an emergency of someone having a heart attack. Every second could make a difference.

WHITE SPACE ON THE PAGE – In an action scene, it is especially important to have white space on the page. Readers tend to skim the heavily worded paragraphs. Make paragraphs shorter, sentences shorter, and don’t embed dialogue. In my rewrite, it changes from one heavier paragraph to 5 bursts of action.

Over the years, I have cut back on the length of my chapters and my scenes. I give the reader more white space on the page and use deep POV to break up the prose. Call it “shorter reader attention span,” but that’s what I’ve noticed and changed my style accordingly. My paragraphs tend to be shorter too, but it’s the same idea. Long heavy narratives can appear daunting to a reader these days. Don’t give them a reason to skin.

VOICE – I like the character voice where we get a sense of dark humor in Zach. EMTs have seen it all. They can be adrenaline junkies. I like Zach cursing as he drives, not giving an inch, yet staying calm.

PACE WRECKING LINES – There are a number of lines that cut the pace and stop the action in this short intro.

He flipped the switch to change the siren from the long monotonous wail to the rapid repetitive yelp that would alert the motorists in the busy intersection they were quickly approaching. Ana also intermittently hit the air horn to add another dimension to the sound.

The two lines above are too focused on the details of sound and they lose any momentum for the action. It’s not as important to get the nitty gritty detail of what is physically happening. It’s mainly important to write a smattering of action (see an example of ‘smattering’ in my rewrite of paragraph 1) to give the reader a sense of it. Keep it punchy and focus on the bare essence of the action.

Fortunately, the day was bright and clear. It was better not to have the weather as a hazard; the traffic was definitely enough.

In an action scene, if you have to stop to write about the weather, you’ve lost the pace. In this case, the weather is “bright and clear,” not even a factor, so why bring it up? Since an author is in control of the weather, why NOT make the roads slick with rain and with lightning?

“Are you familiar with the area we’re going to?” Ana asked while shading her eyes from the gleam of sunlight reflecting off the side mirror of the truck.

I would imagine that ambulances have GPS to direct them into areas of the city they aren’t familiar with. Ana’s line doesn’t seem authentic. Also, this is an example of too much unnecessary detail that doesn’t add to the action. We authors are tempted to write details to put the reader in the scene with us, but the details should not be a distraction, as these sentences are.

To make this side mirror glint of light work, I can see Ana searching for cross streets as Zach barrels through an intersection.

REWRITE EXAMPLE 2

As the ambulance lurched, the sun blinded Ana. She kept one eye on the GPS screen and raised a hand to block the glare. Can’t see, damn it.

“Are we close?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I missed it.” Ana craned her neck to spot another sign. “Don’t stop. I’ll catch the next one.”

I’m sure you can do better, dear author, but I wanted you to see the difference in how to pick action that works and doesn’t detract from the action.

Her face felt just short of sunburned from the early morning sun beating down on her side of the ambulance.

“Just short of sunburned” means NOT SUNBURNED. We’ve all been on long drives where our skin gets burned from the sun. Yes, but does Ana’s condition add to this scene? Not so much. Stick with the action to keep the pace and the attention of the reader. You can always bring in a sunburned trucker’s tan later.

ENCOURAGEMENT – We have all been here, dear author. You have a good sense of description. The details can come in handy, but be judicious about where you put them. With action, you should stick with the flow and keep the pace. Be patient with back story and descriptions. You WILL get a chance to strut your stuff.

I like your EMTs. Zach has a hint of personality & humor that I want to know more about. Ana can be fleshed out more, but I get a good sense of how you might write her. Being an EMT is heroic stuff. You have good instincts to start with action. Hang in there and keep writing. With every page, you will get better. Writing is the gift that keeps giving. I’m happy to read your work.

DISCUSSION:

1.) What do you think, TKZers? Do you have feedback for this author?

2.) Anyone with experience as being an EMT? I had a technical adviser who had all sorts of great life experiences. He was an EMT and a volunteer firefighter. The stories he told about how these emergency calls had ice flowing through his veins, until one of the 911 calls turned out to be about his wife and he had to respond–the most harrowing ride of his life. Or the time he was doing CPR on a guy and took the time to notice the man had really bad dandruff. EMTs are a HOOT!

Let’s Argue!

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By John Gilstrap

I thought I’d pull y’all in on a running argument I’ve been having with my writer-buddies.  Spoiler: I’m finding precious few to take my side.

Here’s the hypothetical: Let’s say successful thriller writer George Schwartz decides to write a historical romance novel through traditional publishing outlets.  To keep the marketing department happy, and to avoid confusing his existing audience, George decides to write under the pseudonym, Amanda Thomas.  (Apologies if there is a real Amanda Thomas in the romance space.  I couldn’t find her in my 30-second Amazon search.)

Just to get it out of the way, I believe that honesty is king.  Lying to anyone about anything is wrong.  Hard stop.

Here’s my argument:

Since George is writing FICTION under a PSEUDONYM, I don’t see anything wrong with him creating a fabulous, seductive, relevant bio for Amanda Thomas’.  She led a hardscrabble life in the Midwest, raising her three younger siblings because Mom and Dad disappeared in a twister.  As she worked her way toward a management position in some unnamed factory, she never took her eye off her real goal of becoming a writer.  This FIRST NOVEL is the culmination of her life’s dream.  She’s only thirty now, with nothing but future ahead of her.

Her cover photo would be gorgeous, that of a model who has signed a scary non-disclosure agreement.  Amanda flat-out does not do interviews.

Okay, you get where I am going with this.

One of my best friends in the writing world, a very successful author, was horrified at this possibility.  What if the readers found out?  They would feel betrayed, and no one would ever buy another Amanda Thomas novel.  And when they found out that George Schwartz was the purveyor of the betrayal, they’d never buy another of his books either.

But where’s the betrayal?  Where’s the lie?

Amanda Thomas is NOT REAL, and her book is FICTION.  There’s no analogy James Frey and A Million Little Pieces because his reprehensible action was to misrepresent a made-up story as nonfiction.  Amanda’s book is a novel–no one expects a word of it to be true.

If there’s a lie, it’s in the fact of the pseudonym.

To me, to object to a fictional bio for a pseudonym is to object to a pseudonym itself.  The only honest pseudonym in this case would be “Amanda Thomas, who is really George Schwartz.”  We don’t expect that, so why, if it’s okay to misrepresent the fact of authorship, is it not okay to give the fake author a fake background?

What say you, TKZ family?  Is it wrong to misrepresent a pseudonymous writer as a real person?  Should readers know that the name on the cover is not the writer’s real name?  Where are the lines that shouldn’t be crossed?

First Page Critique: When Is It
Time To Let A Story Idea Die?

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Nothing stinks like a pile of unpublished writing. — Sylvia Plath

By PJ Parrish

We have a special First Page Critique to talk about today. Because I think it is a splendid example of a question all writers have to ask themselves at one time or another: When it is time to let go of a bad story? I’ll be back in a second with my comments. First, here’s our submission:

Lucky Lady

Chapter 1

It’s not easy starting your life over when people think you murdered your husband and got away with it.

Especially in a place like Morning Sun, Iowa. The folks in Morning Sun — there’s only about four hundred of them — don’t have much tolerance for weird people, especially a rattlebrained housewife who tries to bail out of her marriage after a couple of little marital “tiffs.” But I was born and bred in Morning Sun, and on that Fourth of July when my husband Brad came at me with the Ginsu knife we had just bought off a late-night infomercial, I didn’t figure I had a lot of options.

The police believed I killed him on purpose. My neighbors believed the police. My relatives believed the neighbors. But fortunately for me, the jury didn’t believe any of them. So I walked.

Actually, I ran. Three thousand miles to be exact, all the way to Las Vegas. I had to get out of Morning Sun and I figured Las Vegas was a good place to reinvent myself. It’s the kind of town where everyone takes big chances. It’s the kind of town where dwelling on the past is about the only thing that’s really a sin.

_______________________

I’m back. I have real mixed feelings about this submission. On one hand, I like the sassy voice. And the opening line isn’t bad. But I found myself longing for less thinking and musing and more live action. And the title? Well, it’s really meh.

Okay, I’m messing with you here. This is an opening for one of my own books, unpublished. Kelly and I wrote this (in fact, we wrote the entire 367-page manuscript) years ago, when we were well along into our Louis Kincaid series. We wanted to try our hand at a female protag and a style that was lighter and humorous. Also, Kelly had decades of experience in the Nevada casino business and we figured we couldn’t go wrong.

Wrongo, keno-breath.

We couldn’t sell this book to save our souls. Our own publisher passed on it (nicely) and then, when our agent shopped it around, we got at least ten rejections. And there was a common thread to all of them — that the book’s tone was off, that it was “neither fish nor fowl” as two editors actually said. What they were telling us was that we couldn’t sustain a consistent tone over the course of the story, that it seesawed between humor and seriousness (a theme was sexual abuse), light and dark.  (And to be honest, it was larded with backstory in the first chapter).

We put the manuscript away and took this lesson out of the disappointment: That our writers’s hearts are dark, and we can’t fake otherwise. I’ve come to think of it as our “Shelf Book.” This is a term coined by John Connelly for a story that you have to write and complete just to get it out of your system so you can move on.

I guess that’s the lesson I am trying to convey here today. That some ideas are toxic. And even if you slave away and finish the manuscript, sometimes you just have to admit defeat and let a story idea die.

I know how hard this is to do. Like me, many of you probably have variations of this:

1. A manila folder swollen with newspaper clippings, scribblings on cocktail napkins, pages torn from airline magazines, notebooks of dialogue overheard on the subway, stuff you’ve printed off obscure websites. At some point, you were convinced all these snippets had the makings of great books. (I call my own such folder BRAIN LINT.)

2. A folder icon in your computer called FUTURE PLOTS. These are sylphs that came to you in the wee small hours of the morning, whispering “tell my story and I will make you a star!” So you jumped out of bed, fired up the Dell and tried to capture these tiny teases. Or maybe you’re one of those bedeviled souls who keeps a notepad by the bed — just in case.

3. Manuscripts moldering in your hard-drive. Ah yes…the stunted stories, the pinched-out plots, the atrophied attempts, the truncated tries. (Hey, better I get rid of my bad alliteration here then in my book) These are the books you had so much hope for and they let you down. These are the books you went 30 chapters with but couldn’t wrestle to the mat for the final pin. These are the books you grimly finished even as they finished you. Maybe you even sent these out to either agent or editor and they were rejected. At last count, I have six of these half-birthed monsters still breathing in my hard-drive. And at least four others finally died when my former Acer did, lost to mankind forever. Thank god. Geez…one was called Tarantella and it was erotica. Can it get any worse?

So what do you do with all these ideas?

You expose them to sunlight and watch them burn to little cinders and then you move on. Because not every idea is a good one. Not every idea makes for a publishable book. And sometimes, you just gotta let go.

Or you just bite the bullet and let them exist as your Shelf Books. Mike Connelly had three completed manuscripts before he sent out The Black Echo. L. Frank Baum wrote four adult novels before The Wizard of Oz, and his son records in his memoir that his mother burned them all. Hunter Thompson’s first writing attempt was a rejected novel called Prince Jellyfish about a boy from Louisville trying to make it in the big city. Thomas Hardy’s first novel The Poor Man and the Lady, was rejected by five publishers and the manuscript later destroyed. And before Stephen King hit it big with Carrie (rejected by 30 editors) he wrote a novella The Aftermath, and The House on Value Street, based on the Patty Hearst kidnapping.

Sometimes, bad ideas can birth new life. Michael Chabon abandoned his novel titled Fountain City after 1,500 pages, but then used it as inspiration for his fabulous Wonder Boys. John Cheever wrote 150 pages of a novel called The Swimmer, then decided it was better as a 12-page short story.

I have known some unpublished writers who’ve lock their jaws onto one idea like a rabid Jack Russell and chew it to death. These writers become paralyzed, unable to give up on their unworkable stories, unable to open their imaginations to anything else. I think it is because they fear this one bone of an idea is the only one they will ever have. Two things happen when writers reach this point:

  1. They self-publish. (Not a bad thing if your idea is good)
  2. Or they get smart, take to heart whatever lessons that first manuscript taught them, put that book on the shelf, and move on to a new idea.

You have to know when to let go. And you have to trust that yes, you will have another idea. Maybe a good one. Maybe even a great one.

So, what do Kelly and I do with our Lucky Lady? Yeah, we’ve thought about self-publishing it. We even designed a cover for it. We have a base readership and we might get some sales. But whenever I go back and re-read that book — which I’ve done a couple times now with something close to hope — I find it still has warts. And worse, it isn’t true to our writers’s hearts and our readers will sense that.

But…

We could sent it to Canada. To the Brautigan Library in Vancouver, which is devoted to unpublished manuscripts. The library’s inspiration came from the 1971 novel The Abortion: An Historical Romance by Richard Brautigan, in which the protagonist works at a library of unpublished manuscripts. In the novel, no one is allowed to visit the library and read the unpublished works. But in the library it inspired, that’s the whole point. You can go there and read the 300 manuscripts. They are also open to submissions. But I think your toxic story would look better on your own shelf.

 

Did You Forget to Mention You’re a Writer?

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Real life offers inspiration when we least expect it. That moment can also be awkward, especially if you forget to mention one crucial distinction between you and a psychopath: the word writer.

A service person comes to your home. While you’re watching her — yes, a woman — do her job, a brainstorm strikes you out of nowhere; it rounds first base, second, and third, and charges at full speed for home plate. But you need more information to flesh out the idea, mentally draft the story from beginning to end to see if the premise has merit.

So, you drill her with questions, lots of questions, dark probing questions, and then you feel like you have to explain, but you’re so focused on the story — the story is all that matters — you blurt out, “It’s for a murder.” But you don’t expand, so now, this woman who’s working in a male-dominant field starts to twitch, flinch, her eyes pleading with your husband to stop you if things take a turn for the worse, her protective posture praying to God that you won’t snap right here, right now. Or maybe, she’s contemplating whether or not to call the police.

Whatever. You’ve been down this road before. At the same time, you’re not oblivious to the woman’s discomfort. After all, you’re not a monster. You just need facts, and she’s the perfect person to give them to you.

Ah, well, it’s not the first time your enthusiasm for murder and body disposal made a stranger squirm. Probably won’t be the last, either. No biggie. It’s all good.

You continue. “So, in your professional opinion, how long would it take for the flesh to fall off the bones? Oh, wait.” You mull over the possibilities. The hook of your story emerges like a phoenix from the deep recesses of your mind, and you try to control the smirk that threatens to expose your dark, grisly thoughts. “Would the bones also disintegrate?”

“Err … umm …” Her work boots shuffle backward a few feet. Nervous laughter takes hold — you know the type, that “he-he,” pause, “he-he,” pause, followed by a visual gulp. “Do you have somebody specific in mind?”

What a strange thing to say. Obviously, she’s never read your books. Bitch. “I’m still workin’ out the details.” Meh. You write it off to can’t-please-everyone and move on. “So, about that flesh, what’s your best guesstimate for a time-frame?”

“Ah … well, I worked with a guy once who had to be airlifted to Boston after his skin made contact with … third-degree burns all over his body … it took about five hours.”

“Five hours? Hmm, what if I added lye or sulfuric acid?” You weren’t really asking, more thinking aloud.

In a tone unfit for human ears, she says, “I’m not sure what that is.”

As your eyebrows arch in disbelief, your husband steps in to explain. “If she adds lye or sulfuric acid, the mixture should dissolve the flesh, skull, and whatnot a lot quicker.” Something must occur to him, because he whirls toward you. “Babe, wouldn’t you need to heat the sulfuric acid?”

That draws your full attention. “Not necessarily. If we didn’t kill her first, it’d definitely prolong the torture, but maybe that’s a good thing.”

He laughs.

You laugh, too. Perhaps a bit harder than you should.

The service woman’s stone-cold expression snaps toward your husband and then you, her gaze shifting back and forth before refusing eye contact with either of you.

To break the awkward silence, you say, “Really appreciate you comin’ out on a Saturday. You’re doin’ a great job.”

“Thanks.” Her rigid shoulders relax a bit. “This was my father’s business. After he passed, I left it up to my ex-husband to handle the day-to-day operation, but he screwed me over. So, now, I’m juggling this job with my day job.”

Half-tuning her out, this news doesn’t surprise you. It’s the reason you gave her the work in the first place; you’re a sucker for the underdog. To avoid being rude, you pretend that you’re unfamiliar with the story. As she rambles on and on about her ex, you retreat to fictionland where you create plot points and milestones for the new premise that has you all fired-up. You can’t afford to lose focus. If you do, the plot could slip away. Nothing can get in your way, not now, not while the creative juices are flowing like Niagara Falls.

“Yeah, what a shame.” To not appear unsympathetic, you wait a quick beat. “So, what about teeth?”Writer brain

She startles. “Excuse me?”

“Y’know, the murder. Enamel reacts differently than bone.”

“Gee, I … I …” Another nervous giggle escapes her lips as she swivels to face your husband, who loves it when your writer brain takes over. “Aren’t you the least bit worried?” On the sly, she jabs a chin in your direction.

You catch the insinuation, and roll your lips. “Please. Don’t let the innocent face fool you. He’s just as bad as I am when it comes to driving aimlessly, searching for the perfect place to dump a body.”

More ideas skip past the concept, premise, plot points, and milestones. “Hey, you must know the area really well.” Your gaze slides to your husband, and he nods in solidarity. “A desolate area, a deserted farmhouse, a dirt trail that doesn’t seem to lead anywhere, a particularly eerie swamp, maybe woodlands that no one dares to enter due to a savage attack-slash-murder that happened decades ago … do ya get what I’m sayin’?”

Silent, her jaw slacks.

Some people, eh? Figures you get stuck with the weirdo. In an attempt to clarify, you rephrase. “What I mean is, have you ever had a call from a homeowner that lived in a Buffalo Bill-style house? Y’know, something remote, or a property that exuded evil, a place where as soon as you pulled on to the long dirt driveway all your tiny body hairs stood on end.”

She smacks her gloves together. “Well, I’m about done here. If you give me a minute, I’ll get you a receipt.”

“But–”

Your husband gives you the slow eye-close, signaling you to let her leave.

“Okay, thanks for your help.”

“Hey,” she hesitates, “you were kidding about killing somebody, right?”

“Not at all.” With no further explanation, you turn and strut back into the house. And your poor husband is left to relay the one piece of information that separates you from a psychopath: you’re a writer. Did you forget to mention that?

This scenario really happened to me. True story.

Can you relate? Care to share a funny miscommunication? Let’s start the week with laughter.

Winner of Readers’ Choice Award in Mystery/Thriller

When Shawnee Daniels–cat burglar extraordinaire and forensic hacker for the police–meets Mr. Mayhem in the dark, she piques his curiosity. Sadly for her, she leaves behind an item best left undiscovered. Or is it serendipity by design?

*All books in the Mayhem Series can stand alone.

Available as ebook or paperback on Amazon.

Other retailers listed on my Tirgearr Publishing page.

The Power of the Telling Detail

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

Raymond Carver (via Wikimedia Commons)

In last week’s post, I was asked what I learned from Raymond Carver when I took his workshop in college. The experience was not a happy one. It wasn’t because of Carver; it was because I wasn’t able to “get it.” That’s probably because it was not a craft class, but a place where you shared your work and got comments from Carver and the other students. I got lousy comments. That’s because I was trying to write like Hemingway and falling well short.

Meanwhile, I’d read some Carver stories and knew there was something there, but couldn’t figure out how to get it in my own writing. It wasn’t until years later, when I went back to read Carver and Hemingway again, that I saw it—they were both masters of the telling detail.

A telling detail is a descriptive element that powerfully illuminates a character, moment, or setting. One well-placed, well-formed detail deepens a story, pulling the reader further in, in a way that seems effortless.

In Carver’s story “Will You Please Be Quiet, Please?” a husband and wife are having an intense conversation in the kitchen. The wife is reluctantly going over details of what happened at a party years ago, when another man took her for a ride in his car and kissed her. The husband’s reaction as he listens:

He moved all his attention onto one of the tiny black coaches in the tablecloth. Four tiny white prancing horses pulled each one of the black coaches and the figure driving the horses had his arms up and wore a tall hat, and suitcases were strapped down atop the coach, and what looked like a kerosene lamp hung from the side, and if he were listening at all it was from inside the black coach.

What is going on inside the husband is revealed in the pictures he notices and how he relates to them. He’s withdrawing from the argument; he’s escaping his emotions; he’s being driven from away from his marriage; he’s longing to be in some distant past. There is no need for Carver to tell us how the husband feels. The details do the “telling.”

In Hemingway’s “Soldiers Home” there’s a detail I’ve never forgotten (and I first read it in high school). A young man, Krebs, has returned home from World War I. His mother has just made him breakfast. But things are not the same for Krebs, and never will be again. The war has taken its toll.

His mother starts going on and on about how worried she is about him, how he doesn’t seem to have any ambition and so on. After her emotional appeal, Hemingway writes:

Krebs looked at the bacon fat hardening on his plate.

That detail is so much more powerful than telling us what Krebs feels. It works on us viscerally.

So how can you get a telling detail into your own writing?

First, you can net them when they fly up, unannounced, as you write. That could be your writers mind trying to tell you something important about the character or the place or the moment. So ponder it a moment. If it seems apt, work it into your scene.

Or you can craft the detail later. This is best done during revision. You have your entire story now. You know what’s going on inside the characters. You can go back into your scenes and sharpen the details to serve your overall purpose.

Try this:

  1. Identify a highly charged moment in your book.
  2. Make a list of possible actions, gestures or setting descriptions that might reflect upon the scene.
  3. List at least 10 possibilities, as fast as you can. Go deep. The best way to get good ideas is to come up with lots of them, let them cool a bit, then choose the best one. Look for the detail that surprises you the most, awakens a different part of the moment for you.
  4. Write a long paragraph incorporating that detail, then edit the paragraph so that it is lean and potent. The telling detail works best when it is subtle and does the heavy lifting all by itself.

Carpe Typem!

Again

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Artwork Courtesy bridgemanart.com

“It” happened again.  

“It” is the story I presented in this spot several weeks ago. To wit: I awoke quite early after dreaming the beginning, middle and ending of a novel, got up, typed everything I could remember, and started an outline. That work in progress is now titled The Lake Effect and other than for those occasions where I get in my own way it has actually been fun. I am not finished but I am seeing the highway distance signs assuring me that I am headed in the right direction at speed.

However, “it” has happened again. I woke up Friday morning with a dream vividly lodged in my head, a dream that laid out another novel, beginning, middle, and end. I for a number of reasons (none of them really acceptable) could not get up but I had a pen and a notepad at the ready and scribbled a bunch of notes to my daytime self, all of which actually made sense when I woke up for a second time Friday morning with paper all over the place. The novel? It is, as with The Lake Effect, way outside of my writing comfort zone. The Lake Effect is a love story with a bit of science fiction attached. The latest dream —so far unnamed — is a dystopian thriller. I hate dystopian novels, as a rule. I have been able to read, enjoy, and finish two in my lifetime: Dahlgren by Samuel  R. Delaney and The Road by Cormac McCarthy. My humble effort could be pitched as “Long John Silver and John Wick team up at the end of time and make one final effort to hit the restart button.”

I haven’t decided whether to set this newly inspired work aside until I finish The Lake Effect or work on both. What I really wonder, however — and this is a rhetorical question — is…why now,  as I do the slim, slow slide into age sixty-eight (September 11, if you’re wondering when to send the Amazon gift cards)? Am I the recipient of some sort of precursor to the “check engine” light flashing on, or is a blood clot going to jackknife in the middle of my cranial freeway at rush hour in a couple of months, and is this last-ditch creative spurt is a traffic alert?

I ask because something else is happening as well. I’ve had a major change in appetite (food, that is) over the past five weeks. I suddenly have no desire for what had been my four major food groups: pasta, donuts, french fries, and kettle chips. I no longer find appealing what I had to resist. A friend brought over a large bag of my favorite potato chips — Zapps Mardi Gras Kettle Chips — the other day as a gift. Up until a few weeks ago I would have opened them to share with her as a pretext to doing a deep dive in the bag. They’re still sealed. Glory be, ‘tis a miracle, Father Mahoney. Meat is going the same way. I’m down to eating meat as part of one meal per day, at most. It hasn’t been a conscious or deliberate choice. It’s just what I feel. I’ve eaten more oatmeal and soup in the last month or so than I have in my entire life. My cupboard and refrigerator look as if they have been taken over by Jack LaLanne (well, that is a gross exaggeration, but it’s changed quite a bit). This all occurred after I dreamt The Lake Effect.

I don’t know if this is even worthy of a question, but since we have a bunch of artistic minds out there, and many of them are seasoned, let me ask: have any of you experienced a sea change like this? Was it a precursor to something good, bad, or indifferent? What ultimately happened? Thank you, and enjoy your weekend.