Imagination. That’s what writers possess, something invisible and hard to explain to those who don’t have such a gift. Authors have an ability to create worlds, settings, conversation, and even feelings that others can share. Readers find a way to bond with those “people” we’ve created and look forward to the next book, and the next.

I find it interesting that authors can create strong fictional entities who can carry the story, but can be quickly supplanted by a minor character intended to perform some short purpose to push the plot forward, and then depart.

But sometimes this minor supporting character starts to swell up and threaten to take over a book, or series.

Now as I continue with this thought, I suspect I might have written something similar for KillZone, but I’m on a damn tight deadline here (because I got my dates mixed up again and this thing is pouring out) at eleven in the evening, and I don’t have time to look older posts. Bear with me though, because there’s a different thrust this time and it came to mind while the Bride and I were on the road this afternoon.

By my third novel, The Right Side of Wrong, I’d built a small rural world in Northeast Texas back in 1966. The Parker family took center stage with Ned and Becky Parker who are in their golden years, Cody Parker and his (then) girlfriend Norma Faye, who represented the twenty-something crowd, and the near twin twelve-year-old cousins Top (the innocent young boy) and Pepper (a young lady who cusses like a sailor and instigates a number of issues throughout the series).

They were all well received, and reviewers were positive about the characters and series.

Somewhere in the early stages of The Right Side of Wrong (and remember I don’t outline), an old man named Tom Bell showed up out of nowhere. I wondered who he was as my fingers raced across the keyboard. My subconscious had already inserted him into the plot somehow and I was following a dim trail of discovery.

As the story progressed, Tom Bell bought a small house in need of repair, and set about rebuilding it not far from where Top lived with his constable grandfather Ned, and Miss Becky. I allowed my imagination to soar and soon Top spent more and more time with Tom Bell, who showed interest in the youngster and they became friends.

We soon learned that Tom Bell was a retired Texas Ranger seeking peace and solitude after a lifetime of fighting crime. When the plot finally reached the third act, the world around the Parker family went to hell and Tom Bell stepped in to help arrest a few bad guys, and ultimately follow Ned and Sheriff’s Deputy John Washington down across the Rio Grande to rescue Cody Parker from a Mexican prison.

Spoiler alert!

They got Cody out all right, but in the ensuing fight, Tom Bell is shot to pieces as he provides cover for the others to get back into Texas. After an over-the-top ending, the remainder of my ensemble cast lived happily ever after, at least until the next book came out.

There. I was finished with Tom, and had enjoyed this character who came from nowhere and performed his duties with honor and a strong sense of purpose.

Then came signings, and a barrage of questions from readers and hosts alike about why he’d been killed off. I explained those reasons, and for the next couple of years, the verbal assaults continued.

One lady at a signing took me to task over Tom Bell, and said she looked forward to the day that I drowned young Pepper in the Red River, but to bring the old Ranger back!

“All right! I will.”

I checked back and realized I hadn’t killed him off at the end of the novel, but left him for dead, so three years later he returned with a flourish in Gold Dust and the response was overwhelming. Tom grew in successive books, and last year I liked him so much I wrote a prequel to the Red River series entitled The Texas Job, with Tom Bell as the main character.

Set in the early 1930s, we saw him as a young man, and learned what made this guy such a good Texas Ranger. All the ingredients that created this fictional character gave readers insight into his past, and the person they wanted to read about.

I’m getting more requests right now to write the second book in a new series featuring this mythical Ranger. In fact, the novel was so well-received that The Texas Job is a finalist for the Will Rogers Medallion Award and I’ve received a slew of comments and emails about that book, the period in time we fondly call The Great Depression, and Mr. Bell.

So here’s my question to you all out there in BookLand. What is that makes some well-written and strong protagonists take a back seat to one who suddenly steps into the open and beams light? How did we do that?

Is it description?

Action?

Dialogue?

Do they do the things we wish we could?

Did we somehow create our own super hero? And why is he or she more interesting that those characters we started with?

Side note, my daughters say that I’ve written Tom Bell as myself, ten years in the future.

I just wish I was that tough and charismatic.

So whadda ya think? I sure don’t know, but I’d like to hear your thoughts.

by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

Apropos of our discussion on Artificial Intelligence last week—and the horrifying prospect of millions of books being produced (not written) every year (one indie “writer” has declared he is going to produce ten books a month)—I thought I’d say a word on behalf of humanity. Goodness knows we need it.

I decided to corner the machine with a question. I asked ChatGPT itself if there was any room left for flesh-and-blood scribblers. It answered, in part,

AI can generate text based on patterns and data it has been trained on, but true creativity and originality often stem from human imagination, emotions, and experiences. Human writers bring a unique perspective and the ability to create innovative narratives that AI may struggle to replicate.

Fiction writing often involves exploring complex emotions and human experiences. While AI can analyze and mimic emotions to some extent, it may not fully comprehend the depth and nuances of human emotions in the same way as a human writer does. Emotional intelligence and empathy are vital components of storytelling that are challenging for AI to replicate convincingly.

Emotional intelligence and empathy. In other words, heart.

We gotta have it. It’s the thing that distinguishes us from the machines. And if we want to keep selling fiction, we need to get heart onto the page.

That’s because discoverability is a challenge with a “tsunami” of competent fiction deluging the Amazon shores. Some of that challenge is overstated. We’ve had 15 years of competent and mediocre ebooks, and it’s not volume that sells over time, or gives an algorithmic boost to a backlist. Reader reviews do much of the curation and the best books rise to the top (not always, as we know, but the odds are better with superb book after superb book).

Now, of course, the tsunami is exponentially bigger and more terrifying.

Or maybe it’s more like Sharknado!

What is the answer? Simply this: we have to put into our books what the machines cannot replicate. And the most important thing they cannot replicate is you. Your heart, your soul, your vision, pressed through the craft you diligently study and apply.

Robert Frost famously said, “No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader.” Meaning you’ve got to feel before you write.

You’ve got to write like you’re in love. Later, you can edit like you’re in charge.

Love, say the poets, is a kind of ecstasy that overwhelms. Even elementary school kids have ideas about love. Some time ago a teacher asked her class to define love. A few of the answers:

“Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they get to know each other.”

“When somebody loves you, the way they say your name is different.”

“Love makes you smile when you’re tired.”

“You really shouldn’t say ‘I love you’ unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot.”

Tommy, age 6, nailed it: “Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving lotion and they smell each other.”

So, to love your book, smell it! By that I mean, don’t forget the sense of smell, as Steve recently discussed. But not just the obvious smell. Find something unique. Unique is what the machines don’t find. Yet.

Want to see what I mean? Look no further than the great Raymond Chandler in The Little Sister:

She smelled the way the Taj Mahal looks by moonlight.

No machine’s going to come up with that! Because it’s not rational, and it’s not meant to be. It’s meant to be felt.

Same with emotions. The machine will give you the obvious choices. Say your character is in a dark alley and hears footsteps. What emotion? Fear pops immediately to mind.

But that’s predictable. Instead, human, go deeper. In his book The Emotional Craft of Fiction, Donald Maass says to pursue “third-level” emotions. What this means is, you think of the obvious emotion the character would feel in a situation. But then ask, What else would the character feel? And ask once more, What else? That’s the third level, the one that is surprising, which a reader experiences as delight.

An exercise I love is the page-long sentence. I choose a moment in my story where the character is feeling deeply. I stop and open up a fresh doc and write a sentence of 200-300 words, no stopping, in the character’s voice, talking about all the permutations of the feeling, going on tangents, coming up with metaphors, not pausing to edit. Once you get going, your Boys in the Basemet will send up things you didn’t know were there, and you’ll get at least one gem to polish and put in your text.

Your heart is doing an end run around your conscious and cliché-steeped mind.

So let the machines churn their mediocre-if-competent product. Make yours unforgettable. The secret ingredient is heart.

Speaking of which, I put a lot of my heart into a crazy book called Some People Are Dead: Part Essay, Part Memoir, Parts Unknown. These are short riffs on subjects—including my own life story—that arose randomly as I considered the obituaries of famous and not-so-famous people. These can be read as five-minute escapes from the world whenever such is needed (like, every day). The Kindle version is free for five days. Enjoy!

Over to you now. How do you get your heart into your pages?

We might as well end with the hit song from the musical Damn Yankees. In the song, heart is about grit, something else writers need in abundance, now more than ever:

Time is our most precious commodity. Regardless of inequities in life, each day we have equality—exactly the same amount of time allotted to all. 24 hours. 1,440 minutes. 86,400 seconds.

In many ways, it’s not about the amount of time we have. It’s how we use our time. Time being the ultimate tool; a finite and non-renewable resource.

I’m short of time today (so to speak). I have little time to deliver a meaningful piece, and by meaningful, I mean something of value that folks following The Kill Zone can take away. So, I’m writing a short, meaningful piece about time value.

I’m short of time because I’ve created a writing monster that’s frothed like a sack of Mentos dunked into a Diet Coke vat. I’m enjoying the fizz but, man, is it ever sucking time. There’s no foreseeable end in sight.

So, I’m tapping an article I recently read on The Free Press (Bari Weiss—hate her or love her). It was titled The Time Billionaires and went like this:

A million seconds is 11 and 1/2 days. A billion seconds is slightly over 31 years. In our western culture, we’re so, so obsessed with money. We deify dollar billionaires when we really should be fan girls and fan boys of time billionaires. For instance, most 20-year-olds have two billion or better seconds left in their lives. But few look at it that way and don’t relate to themselves as being time billionaires. Many people fail to realize this asset’s value until it’s gone.

The piece had a nice quote from Stoic philosopher Seneca that read, “We are not given a short life, but we make it short, and we are not ill-supplied but wasteful of it.”

The article also linked a “Life Calendar”. It exposes a blank 90-year lifespan by each year listed vertically with 52 squares across the horizontal representing weeks in a year. It’s downloadable, and you can print it as an 8 ½ x 11 worksheet. See the pic below.

I drew out, or charted, my life calendar. It was an interesting exercise that made me reflect on where I’d spent the last 2 billion seconds of my life and where I’m going. I’m 66 now and, if my genes are predictive, I might have a billion seconds remaining.

Yes, still time to be a time billionaire. It’s what I do with forthcoming seconds that count. But if it goes like my Coke & Mento project is going, I might never get done.

How about you, Kill Zoners? Have you looked at your Life Calendar and worked on it? Also, if anyone has time management tips, I’d love to hear them. God knows, I need some.

By John Gilstrap

From 2019 to 2022, I wrote two books per year–one Jonathan Grave thriller and one Victoria Emerson thriller. That’s six books in three years. Or, 200,000 words per year. During Covid. While building a house. And selling a house. And moving twice. It was exhausting.

Worse, it wasn’t fun. Don’t get me wrong–I’m proud of the stories and the characters and all the moving parts of the books, but as I age, sitting and writing for long periods of time has become uncomfortable. Thanks to a reckless youth and too many years of catching heavy burning stuff with my fire helmet have left my neck and back pretty creaky. When I stay active–say through gardening and yard work and playing with the dog–everything works fine. But after five or six hours at the keyboard, I feel like it takes an hour just to stand upright again.

And there was a mental strain to that writing schedule, as well. Taking all the unique life-stuff out of the equation, a two-a-year contract means that I was always writing one story while editing or proof reading another. It’s just more work than I wanted to do.

But I still want to explore new ideas.

If all goes as expected, I will soon sign a contract with Kensington Publishing that will advance my Jonathan Grave series to 18 volumes. I never dreamed that the momentum of those books would continue to build as it has, and while I’m very much in love with the characters and their mission to bring justice to bad guys, it’s fun to explore different characters and different plots.

Another new series.

I had just finished the page proof edits for White Smoke, the third book of the Victoria Emerson series, when my agent called to tell me that she and my editor had been talking about me over lunch. They think I should do another new series, this one a spin-off from Jonathan that would take a regular character from the series and spin her off in a new direction while at the same time knocking Jonathan’s world a few degrees off its axis.

The idea had occurred to me before, and I find the idea exciting, but see above. I don’t want to do two books a year anymore. I want to have a life outside of my office. It’s the nature of a popular series (and one that I hope will also become popular) that people want to see new books on a regular basis. I hear all the time from people who count on the new Grave book to entertain them at the beach every year.

So, we reached a compromise: One book every 9 months, each new volume in each series dropping every 18 months. That feels doable to me. I guess we’ll find out.

I’m being deliberately obtuse about the new series because no contracts have been signed. I’ll come clean when that happens, I promise.

So, TKZ family, do you find the act of writing to be physically tiring? Inquiring minds want to know . . .