January Motivational Words of Wisdom

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Happy New Year, and welcome to the first Words of Wisdom post of 2023. For me, finding time to write, using that time, as well as wanting to sustain that creativity throughout the year and beyond, is very much on my mind right now. Not only that, but figuring out how better to deal with various tasks and schedule what time you have to write.

So, I searched through the Kill Zone archives for January posts dealing with this and found gold. Three posts, which turned out to be spaced three years apart.

From January 2014, James Scott Bell gives advice on being creative throughout your life. Then, from January 2017 Joe Hartlaub tackles the challenge of time balance and gives some great tips. Finally, from January 2020 Elaine Viets discusses finding your most creative time and how to hew to that. I link to the full posts at the end of each excerpt, and all are worth reading in full.

Fight to be creative as long as you live. Do it this way:

  1. Always have at least three projects going

I wrote about this before (“The Asimov“). I think all writers should, at a minimum, have three projects on the burner: their Work-in-Progress; a secondary project that will become the WIP when the first is completed; and one or more projects “in development” (notes, concepts, ideas, character profiles, etc.). This way your mind is not stuck in one place.

  1. Take care of your body

The writer’s mind is housed in the body, so do what you have to do to keep the house in shape. Start small if you have to. Eat an apple every day. Drink more water. Walk with a small notebook and pen, ready to jot notes and ideas.

  1. Stay positive and productive

Write something every day. Even if it’s just journaling. Know that what you write to completion will see publication, guaranteed. It may be via a contract, like Herman Wouk. Or it may be digitally self-published. Heck, it could be a limited printing of a memoir, just for your family. Writers write with more joy when they know they will be read, and joy is the key to memorable prose.

  1. Do not go gentle into that good night

Write, write against the dying of the light! (apologies to Dylan Thomas). Refuse to believe you have diminished powers or have in any way lost the spark that compelled you to write in the first place. If they tell you that you just don’t have it anymore, throw your teeth at them. Who gets to decide if you can write? You do. And your answer is, I’ve still got it, baby, and I’m going to show you with this next story of mine!

So just keep writing and never decompose.

James Scott Bell—January 19, 2014

Writers are faced with this time balance on a daily, if not hourly, basis. Life gets in the way of writing. Heck, life gets in the way of life. My way of dealing with this has never been perfect and is constantly evolving. I am accordingly going to share with you my current method for coping with the time crunch, which, as I approach the downhill slope of my life, actually works pretty well.

1) Eat the booger first. That got your attention, didn’t it? The “booger” in this case is the task you want to do least. It can be anything from emptying the dishwasher to drafting that letter that contains bad news for the recipient. Do that first. Do it as soon as you get the bad news that you have been appointed to pass on. Do it when the dishwasher light goes on, or it buzzes, or whatever. I have found in most cases that the freakin’ idea of whatever it is you need to do but don’t want to is often worse than actually doing it.

2) List your Big Four. List four things which you try to do every day, regardless of what else happens. Put them in your calendar (on daily repeat) at the beginning of your day. Assign one word to each task — Watch, Read, Write, and Listen, for example — and do each of those things for fifteen minutes each day. If you want to keep doing them, fine, but the first time that you start each one be sure to stop after fifteen minutes. Come back to each one later, if you wish and if you can, but again, in fifteen minute increments. Do it with tasks that you want or have to do regularly, and love or hate (or somewhere in between) , but do each for fifteen minutes at a time. You will be surprised at how long and how short a quarter-hour is, and how much you can get done in that time period. This is particularly true of writing. Depending on your typing speed, inspiration, and perspiration, you can get a couple of hundred words out of you and on the screen in fifteen minutes. What? You say that doesn’t sound like much? Count out two hundred Skittles and throw them around the living room. Now pick them up. See. Two hundred is a lot. Do that for ten days and you have two thousand words or more, where before you had nothing. And so it goes.

3) Schedule things realistically, and adjust your expectations accordingly. It isn’t going to take you fifteen minutes to prepare your income tax return, so don’t schedule that from 10:00 to 10:15 on the night of April 14. You’ll just be making an appointment to be kissed by the goddess of disappointment. Go ahead and block off fifteen minutes for it, across twenty different days, or block off an entire day, if you can do it. You have a pretty good idea how long it takes you, however, from past experience, which is usually a pretty good indicator of present performance. But be realistic in your estimates of how long it takes you and how long you can work on it at a stretch. Think of YOUR abilities and limitations. Mickey Spillane wrote I the Jury in nineteen days, and Georges Simenon could write a book in less time than that, but you or I aren’t going to do that (probably). Don’t get discouraged when it takes longer than you thought it would, and plan accordingly.

Joe Hartlaub– January 28, 2017

 

2) Know your most creative time.
I get most of my writing done between 10 a.m. and 2 p.m. After that, I’ll still write, but my work often feels flat. My brain really sparks during those four peak hours. After that, it’s better for editing.
(3) Seize the time you have.
If your husband takes the kids to McDonald’s, don’t use that time to sort socks. Write!
Romance writer Joan Johnston wrote her way to the New York Times bestseller list by writing her novels between 4 and 6 a.m. – while the kids were asleep. Now, that’s dedication.
What if you have a sick spouse or ailing children – or you don’t feel so well yourself?
That’s where your own determination comes in. I’ve written novels by my husband’s bedside when he was in the hospital, and edited proofs for the next book while waiting to hear from the doctor when he was in surgery.
Am I Super Woman? Heck, no! But I can concentrate for short periods. Writing is a way to escape a painful or scary situation. It can be solace.

(4) Make time
Remember the words of that rabble-rousing journalist, Mary Heaton Vorse: “The art of writing is the art of applying the seat of the pants to the seat of the chair.” You need seat time.
Try to schedule time-sucking activities after your peak writing time. If the cat isn’t deathly ill, make her vet appointment at 4:30 p.m. The repairman – if he deigns to show up – will start the repairs after your peak writing time. And for now, I’m ignoring the squeaky dryer.
Be ruthless when you write. Turn off your cell phone. Ignore the siren call of the internet, tempting you with cat videos, unanswered emails and Kim Kardashian’s latest lingerie photo. Use that time to write.

(5) A writer writes.
Make that your mantra.
I love being a writer. I enjoy talking to other writers at the Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime meetings, and hanging out with other writers in the bar at conventions.
But writing is a lonely business. Eventually, I’m going to have to go to my office, all by myself, and write. You will, too. Good luck.

Elaine Viets—January 9, 2020

***

What advice do you have on sustaining your creativity throughout the year and beyond?

How do you strike that “time balance?”

Are you making any changes to your writing schedule this month?

 

If you encounter a problem in posting your comment, we apologize. The Kill Zone has been dealing with a few technical difficulties, and we are working to fix the problems. Thanks for your patience and for visiting!

 

 

Reader Friday – Friday the 13th

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According to Wikipedia, we have one to three Friday the 13ths each year. This year we are allotted two – today and in October.

The history of Friday the 13th is too long to discuss here, but I will mention that in Hispanic and Greek culture the unlucky day is Tuesday the 13th, and in Italy it is Friday the 17th.

So, as I love to do here, let’s get wildly creative and set a NEW DAY TO REPLACE FRIDAY THE 13th.

The Assignment: Pick a day that was your most unlucky day, and give us a paragraph arguing why we should use your day, and replace Friday the 13th. Or, alternatively, pick a day that has been the most lucky day for you. Okay, put those thinking hats and creative brains to work, and show us the results.

 

If you are having trouble posting a comment, we apologize. We are having technical problems with our website, but we are working to correct them. Thank you for your patience!

Murder! Murder!

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By Elaine Viets

Several years ago, when I was chosen for jury duty in St. Louis, we were asked if we’d ever had any connection to a murder: did we have a friend or relative who was a murder victim? Did we know someone who was convicted of murder?
I was astonished at how many people raised their hand – almost two-thirds of that massive jury room. Those who raised their hands seemed to be so-called solid citizens – well-dressed men and women, old and young, black and white. The last people you’d think would be involved with violent crime.
Including the grandmotherly woman next to me, who’d brought her knitting. She told me her brother was murdered. He was a kindhearted man who gave a co-worker a ride home on a dark, rainy night. The colleague’s husband shot and killed him. He was convinced his innocent wife was having an affair.

Murder seems to touch us all. When I thought about it, I realized I’d watched a murderer grow up in my city neighborhood. We lived on a shady street with big, old redbrick houses. One house, halfway down the block, was known as “the trouble house.” The police were there two or three times a week. The neighbors often called the cops on the boy, who I’ll call Billy, because that’s not his name. Billy broke windows, supposedly stole things out of yards, and may have tortured a stray cat.
The neighbors would call the cops, who would show up at the house and talk to Billy’s mother. Billy’s father was long gone. Soon after the complaint, there would be a fire in a trash can at the home of the person who complained – or a mysteriously broken garage window. After awhile, the neighbors quit complaining, but many lived in fear of the trouble house.
Then one morning, Billy was in the newspaper. He 18, and arrested for murdering a man in the neighborhood park. Supposedly, the man was gay and paid Billy for sex. Billy stabbed him to death.
Shortly after that, Billy’s mother sold the house to pay for her son’s legal bills, and moved away. Billy went to jail for murder.

In 2020, some 17,754 people were murdered in the USA. More than 40 people are murdered every day in the US. That statistic led to a jury room full of raised hands, and lives filled with sorrow and regret.
As mystery writers, we deal with murder professionally. But how many of us have dealt with murder personally? Tell us your story.

Late for His Own Funeral “ is a fascinating exploration of sex workers, high society, and the ways in which they feed off of one another.” — Kings River Life. Buy it here: https://www.amazon.com/Funeral-Angela-Richman-Investigator-mystery-ebook/dp/B09SM41TVJ 

 

Having trouble posting a comment? We’re sorry. We’re having technical problems and are working to resolve it. –Elaine

Ringing Out the Old Year With Hate Mail

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By John Gilstrap

Looking back on 2022, I confess I’m pleased by what I see. Two books and an anthology published, and two books written for publication in 2023. New house, new puppy, new radio gig, and a calming of pandemic panic that allowed the conference circuit to open up again.

For the most part, reviewers are kind to my books, to the point that I generally look forward to opening the emails I receive through my website. When I do receive the occasional negative email, it generally deals with the presence of too many typos or grammatical errors. Truth be told, the typos annoy me, too.

Then came Boxing Day, December 26, when I found this missive in my inbox from Mary Anne X:

I liked Stealth Attack right up until chapter 17, where Gilstrap once again revealed his proTrump mentality and his anti gun control stance. If he wants his protagonists to fight real corruption, he should have Jonathan Graves take on the Oath Keepers, or the Proud Boys, or the Trump administration itself. I don’t care if Gilstrap personally supports those criminals, but he’ll lose readers and profits if he doesn’t leave politics out of his novels. I’m done with his projecting such ignorance onto his fictional heroes. There’s better stuff to read. Can’t wait to write a review.

Okaay . . .

Stealth Attack hit the stands in July, 2020, which means I wrote it in 2019. When I read the email, I was confused. I couldn’t remember anything in that book that resembled anything that Mary Anne found so offensive. Recognizing that I am getting no younger, and that my memory isn’t necessarily as acute as it used to be, I pulled the book from my shelf and re-read Chapter 17.

To set the scene, Roman Alexander, a young man who’s very close to Jonathan Grave, has been kidnapped from El Paso by members of a drug cartel and spirited back across the border for reasons as-yet unknown in the story, though evidence is pointing toward human trafficking and child prostitution. Chapter 17 sees Jonathan and his team confronting cartel monsters in a bar in Sinaloa.

Best I could tell, this must have been the offending passage. As Jonathan muses about the challenge they face:

The U.S. State Department had had a travel advisory in place against most of the northern half of Mexico for the better part of a year now. Local gun laws were so draconian that possession of even a single bullet could get you put away for most of a lifetime, so no one was able to defend themselves against the gangsters who terrorized the country. The cartels owned the cops and the politicians, who cooperated by making sure that the populace was unable to resist or defend themselves.

By the time the chapter ends, a child prostitute’s pimp has a very, very bad day.

Let me stipulate from the beginning that every reader is 100% entitled to his or her own opinion. I read every email I receive and every review I can find. I never take offense from the bad ones and I try not to let the effusive ones swell my head. If someone feels passionate enough to share their opinion, I’ve at least made an impression.

The reason I bring this email to the fore at all is the underlying meanness it carries. Mary Anne’s intent, as implied in her concluding sentence, is to harm my career. It’s not that my writing is bad, it’s that I’m a bad person for writing it. It’s reflective of the times, I suppose. Oath Keepers and Proud Boys? I have no idea where that came from.

Here’s my big concern. I’ve been doing this a long time, and I’ve built a following that trusts me to do my best to write a thriller that thrills. The one-off review like this gets counter-balanced by lots of others, so its impact on my career as a writer is negligible (at least I hope it is). For beginning writers, however, a screed like Mary Anne’s could be devastating. It’s mean spirited. I don’t understand the mindset.

I do think it’s interesting that in referring to “Gilstrap” in the body of her email, Mary Anne clearly doesn’t realize that she’s writing to me directly. I wonder if that bit of knowledge would have affected the tone of her missive. I’ll wager $100 that she would not have spoken that way to my face (no implied threat there from me, only suspected cowardice from her).

Now for my next challenge. While I never–NEVER!!!–respond to negative reviews, I promise on my website to always respond to every email. So . . . what to do? Here’s my response:

Hi, Mary Anne.

Thanks for your note. I promise on my website that I respond to every email, and I confess that most are more pleasing to address than yours. Sorry to push you away. I wrote Stealth Attack back in 2019, so I confess that you drove me to take another look at Chapter 17. You probably won’t be surprised that I don’t see what you saw, but that’s the nature of books. Once they’re launched, readers’ impressions are all that matters.
In today’s hyper-partisan climate, I think it can be too easy to project politics into places where they don’t exist. Fiction can cut close to reality, but at the end of the day, it’s still fiction. In Jonathan Grave’s world, Tony Darmond has been president for 14 years, and I don’t even know how long Irene Rivers has been director of the FBI. I don’t report on real government corruption, but rather create corruption that gives my cast of characters a reason to do what they do.
I intend to give my readers a thrill ride that may keep them up  at night, but I never intend to anger them. In your case, I seem to have dropped the ball.
I wish you a happy New Year.
If only you could read the first two drafts of that response–the ones that felt good to write but could never be sent.
Here’s to a terrific 2023!

 

 

On Tutus, Right Tackles
And Writing In Obscurity

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By PJ Parrish

Was perusing the New York Times over the holidays, lingering at my two favorite stops: sports and arts. In sports, I read about the Kansas City Chiefs offensive line (for you non-sports types, that’s the big fellows up front who form a pocket around the quarterback). In the arts section, I read a review of The Nutcracker that zeroed in on the corps de ballet (that’s the group of dancers who form a circle around the ballerina).

Patrick Mahomes being protected

I’ve been watching football since the 1950s, slogging with my Dad through the sad history of the Detroit Lions. I’m now a long-suffering Dolphins fan as well. I’ve been going to The Nutcracker since the 1980s, when I became dance critic. I think I have seen The Nutcracker over 400 times, every version from the dazzling (New York City Ballet, Miami City Ballet, Bolshoi) to the amateur and heartfelt (in hot gymnasiums with many parents in the audience).

On Christmas day, I watched the Lions and Packers. That night, I saw the Tallahassee Ballet dance The Nutcracker. I often focus on the play of the offensive line because they work hard in unison to showcase the quarterback. I focus on the corps dancers because they work in sync to showcase the ballerina. Until now, it never struck me how similar their jobs are.

 They both depend on teamwork

“Sometimes I’m blocking with a blind side and one of the other linemen literally has my back. We must rely on each other. We have to know each other’s personalities to coexist out there, and we have to know each other’s tendencies. — right tackle Kareem McKenzie.

“Sometimes you feel like you are just part of the scenery…the military aspect — the discipline, the straight lines, doing everything at the same time, the lack of individuality.”– Cécile Sciaux, Paris Opera Ballet.

2. They will never be the stars but without them, the show doesn’t go on.

“When you first get into the company, you don’t think you’re going to spend your life in the corps. Your dream is to be the lead, and at one level that never goes away.” — Dena Abergel, New York City Ballet.

“As kids, we all started out as quarterbacks or receivers, but then we got fat and slow so we became offensive linemen. We might try harder now, but who is going to notice a bunch of big guys blocking? — Center Shaun O’Hara.

Well, you don’t really notice them — until they screw up. If a Chiefs lineman misses a block, Patrick Mahomes gets sacked. If a corps girl’s leg goes too high in arabesque during the Shades entrance of La Bayadere, she shatters the whole lovely illusion.

So, if you watch the playoffs this week, pay attention to the chunky guys up front. And next time you go to the ballet, watch the girls in the back. There’s artistry in their obscurity.

Which is a long ways around to get to my point, crime dogs. Many of us tell great stories. Some of us get published. Some of us work hard and publish ourselves. Very very few of us become stars. Most of us will work in obscurity and quiet hopefulness. All of us have our special fears about that.

We fear we don’t have enough talent or the stamina needed to go the distance. We fear we will never connect with an agent or editor. We fear the churning changes in publishing will crush our dreams. We fear our work will get lost in the cacophony of self-publishing. We fear we’re too old for this, or that it’s too late to even start.

We fear obscurity.

What can I say? I’ve been there, believe me. I’ve been published by the biggest houses in New York, small presses, twelve foreign houses and by my own little self. I can tell you it has never gone away, the fear of sliding into nothingness. I’m battling another round of it of late. But I’m plugging on. So here, modestly, is what I can tell you as you start anew in this new year:

Don’t stop. Face the blank screen every day. I suggest doing so after you’ve gone back and read something you’ve already written. If it’s good, you can find great solace in your genius. If it’s not so good, you’re strong enough to admit it, hit delete and try again.

Stay connected. Try to write every day because the string between you and the imagined world of your story is fragile. You have to stay connected. If you stay away too long, you forget the language, lose your place, and find your characters have drifted away. Here’s Walter Mosley on the subject:

Writing a novel is like taking a journey by boat. You have to continuously set yourself on course. If you get distracted or allow yourself to drift, you will never make it to the destination. It’s not like highly defined train tracks or a highway; this is a path that you are creating discovering. The journey is your narrative. Keep to it and a tale will be told. Nothing we create is art at first. It’s simply a collection of notions that may never be understood. Returning every day thickens the atmosphere. Images appear. Connections are made. But even these clearer notions will fade if you stay away more than a day.

Read good books. I’ve posted about this before, but it’s vital to your momentum. When my own work is rough-sailing, I take a break and go read another chapter of Jess Walter’s Cold Millions. To paraphrase Jerry Maguire, he makes me want to be a better writer.

Clean yourself up. When I feel like I’m becoming engulfed by what Virginia Woolf called “the mist of obscurity” I think about that Marie Kondo lady. She’s the one who  preaches about decluttering your den or underwear drawer. Declutter the junk that prevents you from writing. Get off Facebook or whatever your social drug is. During writing time, turn off your phone’s text alerts and let your calls go to voice mail. Lock the kids out of your writing space, or decamp to a coffee house. And for heaven’s sake, clean up your office and your C-drives. Like those skinny jeans hiding in your closet, that lousy romantic suspense manuscript you whiffed on will only make you angry if you keep getting it out and looking at it.

Talk to someone. You probably don’t need a mentor, but a trusted beta-reader is good. Keep coming here to TKZ because we know what it feels like. Ditto critique groups, but stay away from pity parties where wine and whine is the only offerings.

Get some exercise. The science proves it: physical movement helps get the brain, bowels, biceps and everything going, including creative energy. I don’t recommend joining a gym. Wait until February when the crowds thin out. Walk the dog, even if you don’t have one.

Good grief. I just re-read this. I apologize for yet another extended metaphor, that bit about ballet and football. And I didn’t mean this to sound like a rah-rah-get-off-your-ass New Year’s resolution thing. I hate resolutions. Never make ’em.

But I do wish this for you as you go on into 2023: Try to embrace the idea of obscurity. Think of it merely as a state of being, a transition. Understand that writing is, at its essence, aloneness. You can’t write amid noise; embrace the quietude. Obscurity can be freeing. It releases you from your fear of failure, because who’s gonna hear you singing off-key if you’re doing it in the shower? This is what third and tenth drafts are for — whispering in the dark as you hone voice and craft until you’re ready to face the audience.

I leave you with a thought from Susan Orleans: “We are all whispering in a tin can on a string, but we are heard, so we whisper the message into the next tin can and the next string. Writing a book is an act of sheer defiance.”

And if you’re so inclined to watch, here is the Bolshoi corps in five of the most beautiful minutes in all of ballet. Good writing in the new year, friends.

Postscript: For technical reason, I am having trouble posting in our comments section today. If I don’t answer in a timely fashion, please be patient. I have to use our back door.

 

Story Structure in Humans

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As I tell this story, think back over your life. We’ve all gone through hard times, some worse than others. Humor me, and if you’re struggling with story structure, you’ll at least begin to grasp it by the time you’ve read this post. That’s my hope, anyway.

Humans have structure — flesh, organs, tissue, arteries, veins, water, and muscle all have their place. No matter what race, religion, or creed, we are the same. What braces up our bodies is our skeleton — story structure.

We may look different on the outside — some have big noses, full lips, different skin and eye color — but we all started the same way…

As an egg — story idea.

Once fertilized, the egg grew in the womb, but still hadn’t fully formed yet — concept.

We evolved into a living, breathing human and entered the world — character.

We each grew to think and feel differently, have different world views, religions, heart, and soul — theme.

And we lived our lives, our story — premise.

Some people are more giving, outwardly loving. Some are more reserved. But it’s all because of how our parents raised us, or because a tragedy changed us — backstory.

So, we’ve been born and we’re growing up, maturing or have already matured. Whichever applies to that specific time in your life.

We scored a job. Perhaps married and had children. But we retained our inner demons, our flaws — Act I — 1st quartile: Set Up << which begins character arc, introduces characters, sets up FPP, foreshadows future events, etc. 

And then something happened to throw our lives out of balance. This defining moment demanded that we act. We could not hide from it. It forced us to do something — First Plot Point, at 20-25%.

After this crucial moment occurred, an antagonist force entered our lives, or it was there all along and only now revealed itself — 1st Pinch Point, at 3/8th mark or 37.5%.

We reeled, flailed, resisted, and failed — Act II — 2nd quartile: Response 

We either did something to fix the problem, or the problem worsened. All the while we kept thinking things could not get much worse. Or we believed we’d finally solved the problem. But it was a false victory or a false defeat — Midpoint, at 50%.

photo-1433424007598-bd5d102e8597

So, we needed to attack the problem head on, because it’s wasn’t going away — Act III — 3rd quartile: Attack << our true character changes again and we become a warrior.

We stopped our pity party because it wasn’t doing us any good. Besides, we’re stronger now than when we started this quest.

And then, the antagonist force emerged again. Only now, it was more terrifying than ever because it too had upped its game — 2nd Pinch Point, at 5/8th mark or 62.5%. Learn more about Pinch Points.

We realized we hadn’t actually solved the problem. We’d only made it worse. Or the victory was short-lived because we didn’t realize X,Y,Z was around the corner, waiting to explode. Things looked bleak. Could this situation get any worse? — All Is Lost Moment.

But how did we really feel about this? What sort of impact did it have on us? — Dark Night of the Soul.

Then something changed. Or we discovered something new that helped us see a glimmer at the end of a dark road — 2nd Plot Point, at 75%.

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In fact, there was a way we could fix our lives — Act IV — 4th quartile: Resolution << this act completes character arc

The only way to defeat the antagonist was to overcome our fears, inner demons, flaws, and meet this force head on. We had to fight this battle (not be a bystander), with everything we’d learned in life thus far, about ourselves and the world around us — Climax.

After which, we lived happily ever after, or as happy as we could be in our new world. We grew as individuals, faced our fears, and had come out stronger for the effort. We’d settled into our new lives — Resolution.

Boom. The end. Obviously, we need a compelling hook first, but that’s it in a nutshell.

Could you think of a time in your life when this applied to you? Hold tight to that memory, and you’ll never forget story structure at its basic level.

“The more Shawnee digs, she ends up with more questions than answers and then add bloody body parts showing up on her doorstep, crows stalking her every move, unreachable friends, a serial killer on her heels, harrowing situations, and she’s just really not sure she’s up to the task at hand. Lines blur with truth and lies, deceptions and facts, and everything about her past will come into question. I loved everything about this book!” — Denise H, book reviewer

On sale for 99c on Amazon

Reaching for the Brass Ring

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

In the good old days of carousels, there was a little item called the brass ring. According to one source:

Brass ring devices were introduced during the heyday of the carousel in the United States – about 1880 to 1920 – as a way of creating interest in the ride. Some rings were made of steel, some made of brass; if you grabbed the brass ring, you got a free ride.

Then the lawyers stepped in.

Today, reaching out and grabbing for the brass ring has been deemed an insurance risk, so very few carousels allow them anymore.

Ah, lawyers. But I digress.

The term has come into our language to mean gaining a prestigious outcome. “His book became a runaway bestseller. He got the brass ring!” It was also something hard to come by; most people missed the brass ring…and some fell off their wooden horse trying to grab it.

I almost got one during my acting days.

My agent sent me to audition for a new TV series. So off I went to MGM Studios in Culver City. I was directed to a sound stage and given “sides”—a portion of a script to go over. I sat down with several other actors of the “young leading man” type. We all gave each other the side-eye, knowing we were competitors.

The part was for the son of a steel mill foreman. The originator of this series, Skag, was none other than Abby Mann, Academy Award winner for his screenplay for Judgment at Nuremberg (1961). He went to a career in TV creating, among other shows, Kojak.

One by one the actors were called into another room, where a camera was set up. Behind a table sat three people to assess the talent.

My turn came and I read my part with one of the casting folks reading the part of the father.

You never know how you do in those things. But at least I’d made it onto the MGM lot!

Gable!

Tracy!

Bell?

As I was walking toward my car, I heard one of the casting people calling my name. She told me to come back inside. They wanted me to read again.

Only this time I was going to read with the star of the series.

A few minutes later I was standing in front of another camera getting ready to read with Mr. Karl Malden.

Karl Malden as Skag.

Karl Malden! Academy Award Winner (Best Supporting Actor for A Streetcar Named Desire) and a man with so many incredible credits.

Here was my brass ring!

I gave it my best shot and floated on air back to my grungy Ford Maverick, dreaming of being able to replace it with a sporty Corvette.

About a week later I got a call from my agent. He brought me down to earth with the news that I didn’t get the part. It had come down to me and another actor. Only this actor had been in a couple of movies, and thus had “a name.” He had copped my brass ring!

That’s an actor’s life for you.

Skag had a cast member I knew personally—Powers Boothe. I’d been in a New York production of Othello with Powers, who snagged his own brass ring when he was cast as Jim Jones in a miniseries about that madman. Powers went on to a great career, including a memorable turn in Tombstone (1993).

The part I was to play went to Craig Wasson, who’s had a nice career of his own.

And what of the actor James Scott Bell? A few months after his miss he snagged a brass ring of another kind when he met a beautiful actress at a friend’s birthday party and wed her six months later.

Figuring a young family needed one steady income, I changed course and went to law school.

Some years later, I walked from my law office in Woodland Hills to grab lunch at Chipotle. Inside, sitting alone and munching, was Craig Wasson.

“Craig?”

He looked up.

I said, “We were up for the same part in Skag. I came in second.”

“Wow,” he said. “You still acting?”

“Nah, I’m a lawyer now.”

“Good choice,” he said with a rueful smile. We exchanged a few pleasantries—nice fellow—and that was the bookend to my brass ring miss.

But here’s the thing. I had at least at least touched the brass ring. My fingertip skimmed across it. That is something. And it may even be a healthy thing. A recent study found that “prioritizing goals emphasizing … personal growth, and striving for meaning in life may have positive biological correlates.”

What’s the brass ring for you? Is it to make the NYT bestseller list? To get a #1 category rank on Amazon? Or maybe just to get more than a handful of readers for the books you self publish?

Whatever it is for you, reaching for the brass ring is a positive aspiration…as long as you don’t miss the ride! The ride is the main thing, after all—the carousel, the up-and-down of your horse, the music playing, the lights flashing, people laughing.

Writing is a carousel. Enjoy it while you can.

So what if you miss the brass ring? If you haven’t fallen off your horse, you’re still on the ride. And as the old ad man Leo Burnett once put it, “When you reach for the stars you may not quite get one, but you won’t come up with a handful of mud, either.”

What’s your brass ring?

More important: are you enjoying the ride?

That Amazing Word, and other Vocabulary Issues

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I fear the English language is in trouble.

My old daddy likely said the same thing when us kids used such words as cool, far out, gnarly, bummer, or any number of late 1960s slang.

He didn’t like The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, or Led Zeppelin, either.

But I’m not talking about just kids here at the beginning of this new year. Those old saws about 2023 resolutions are all I’ve seen on television this week. I’m glad they won’t go on for months like those slanted political ads that don’t provide all the real information, just the sound bites they want you to remember.

I don’t make resolutions, because I don’t intend to fail. What I do pledge each January, is to do my best in whatever I do, and to never give up.

There are a few things I wish would fade away here in this new year, and the first is my biggest irritation, the abominable word amazing. Unlike the abovementioned slang, this word crosses all ages and genders, and is annoying no matter where it comes from.

A couple of morning ago, I was half-listening to an inane TV talk show and ginning around the house without paying any real attention to the program. Those people with starry eyes and unnaturally white teeth were talking about nothing. But That Word was used a dozen times in less than thirty minutes, referring to makeup, someone’s appearance, a pair of shoes, a movie, a fake celebrity who’s done nothing in her life but be in the news, and the weather.

Annoyed to no end, I switched it to HGTV for background noise. I have an architectural background, and am a serial home renovator, always working on some project around the house, so I occasionally enjoy watching a few of those home improvement shows to get ideas.

I also like to see the results after they bring in a thirty-man crew to work eighteen hours a day for six weeks to finish a three-month project during a one-hour television program.

When the married hosts took their clients through the completed project during the final segment known as “the reveal,” everything was That Word again, only to excess. Someone should have written a better script for these reality clients who feigned excitement and surprise about everything.

They had a limited vocabulary, mostly limited to amazing. The exterior of the house was amazing, the plants were amazing, the living room was amazing.

“This kitchen is amazing!”

“This table is amazing!”

“These chairs are amazing!”

“The fireplace is amazing!”

“This wallpaper is amazing!”

“You two are amazing!”

Tired of reading That Word? You can’t imagine how it makes me feel, and as I like to point out to the eye-rolling dismay of my Bride, if everything is amazing, then nothing is.

How about we lift our vocabulary this year in both writing and conversation, and find another way to express ourselves, or even think about a different way to say something.

The Grand Canyon is stunning, magnificent.

The Grand Tetons in Wyoming are spectacular.

Arches National Park is impressive.

A bright silver color of a 43-pound salmon caught on a flyrod is exquisite.

In my opinion, the overuse of That Word is due to laziness, and society’s increasing inability to think for themselves. It’s watering down the English language.

Oh, and the overused phrase, “You look amazing” means nothing, because when the speaker can’t think of anything original, the result is as familiar as air. It’s reminiscent of an unprepared speaker addressing an audience.

“I, um, well, um, this is great, um, my amazing boss came in the other day and um, he said that preparation is the key to performance and, um, well, that’s amazing, isn’t it?”

Um. Amazing. Is the word filler, or an overused adjective defined as “causing great surprise or wonder? Why don’t we say it’s astonishing?

That tie is astonishing? Or, this room is astonishing.

Is a new paint scheme on a house astonishing? Do the contrasting colors cause a feeling or great surprise or wonder? I doubt it. The viewer may like the colors, but I can’t imagine them making a person giddy.

People say amazing because it requires no thought. For example, during a conversation a couple of months ago a young man felt the need to fill in a pause in conversation by saying, “It’s amazing.”

I couldn’t help myself. “What’s amazing?”

The blank look on his face was explanation enough. The words meant nothing.

Good lord, maybe my daughters are right. Maybe I am a curmudgeon.

While we’re at it, young folks, let’s eliminate the word, literally.

“I literally died laughing.”

No you didn’t.

To be fair, I don’t see “amazing” or “literally” used in print that often, it’s mostly in speech, but there are a few words we can eliminate in print. They’re words that creep in early drafts, and somehow duck, bob, and weave to avoid extraction during re-writes or proofing.

They’re mostly adverbs, but a few that crop up in my own first drafts have no business being there.

Very, just, and really are the worst, in my opinion. And again, properly edited novels usually don’t include these three weeds, but I’ve heard them from newscasters this new year and it drives me crazy. My question, did someone write this copy?

“It was a very terrible accident.”

“In a really horrible incident today…”

Some adjectives are non-gradable. You can’t be a bit dead, or very dead. Something is either finished, or it’s not. It can’t be a bit finished or very finished. A woman is either pregnant or not, she’s not a little bit pregnant.

I know these are usually spoken issues and not written, but when writers develop an ear for misused words or tragically constructed sentences, (as Pee Wee Herman said, “I meant to do that.”) they can improve their own works.

Again, simply choosing the right word is the best medicine.

There are more, but today I’m easily distracted and this discussion reminded me of homophones, which crop up all the time. Thankfully we don’t find them in many released novels, but there are those times when we see:

Here/Hear.

They’re/their/there.

Cite/sight.

It’s/its’/its.

Peak/peek/pique.

Bored/board.

Principal/principle

The old folks here in Northeast Texas used to say that what you do on the first day of a new year is what you’ll be doing for the next 364 days, and it looks like I’m a little crabby, but I write this on January 4, so I missed that blessing…or curse.

So with that rant over, I hope y’all have a safe, fun, happy, and profitable new year.

Reader Friday: Keep On Writing?

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“With every sentence you write, you have learned something. It has stretched your understanding. I know that. Even if I knew for certain that I would never have anything published again, [or] would never make another cent from it, I would keep on writing.” – Brenda Ueland, If You Want to Write

Would you?

NOTE: This was one of the books I read early in my writing journey, and found it inspiring. As of this writing the Kindle version is just 49¢.

The World’s Deadliest Fish

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Most folks think great white, tiger, and mako sharks are the world’s deadliest fish. They’re dangerous all right, but the deep’s deadliest distinction goes to the cute little pufferfish you remember from Disney’s Little Mermaid. Also called blowfish and sunfish, these sashimi delicacies known as fugu kill 10 times more people per year than sharks. And they do it a lot slower and far more viciously.

Shark attack deaths are super rare. Sharks kill an average of 5 people each year worldwide, although statistics show at least 80 violent human-to-shark encounters happen annually. Most shark victims are seriously injured like having an arm or leg torn apart, yet somehow survive. Not so with pufferfish poisoning.

Pufferfish death statistics are hard to nail down, but the World Health Organization and an article in National Geographic confirm at least 50 people expire every year after ingesting neurotoxins found in pufferfish livers, ovaries, testicles, intestines, and skin. Hundreds more become seriously ill and only bounce back through immediate medical intervention.

What makes pufferfish so toxic is tetrodotoxin. It’s 1,200 times more powerful than potassium cyanide which the Nazis used in their poison pills. Tetrodotoxin is the world’s deadliest substance by volume next to anthrax and a chemical inside the tropical cone snail. In fact, tetrodotoxin is far more lethal than venom found in the common death adder and the notorious taipan snake. Injecting 1 microdot of pure tetrodotoxin will kill the average-sized human. That’s equivalent to 10 nanograms, which is an amount impossible to see with the naked eye.

So why are powerfully poisonous pufferfish such a preferred palatable pleasure?

It’s because specialized fugu chefs know how to safely filet this culinary delight. In Japan, where fugu is so popular, chefs undergo a state-required licensing program. Apprentice fugu chefs train for 3 years before taking a written, oral, and practical exam on the 30 prescribed steps for properly preparing pufferfish. Only a third pass.

Fugu chefs are extremely cautious about processing their pufferfish. They meticulously remove the toxic parts and treat the offal like nuclear waste. Pufferfish flesh is delicate and exceptionally tasty. The Japanese have a high demand for this sashimi dish, but it’s popular all through the warm water world where pufferfish naturally occur.

There are over 120 different pufferfish or tetrodontiforme sub-species. An adult dwarf blowfish is only an inch long and too small for a meal. But the largest fugu fish reach two feet in length and weigh up to five pounds. Pufferfish get their common name from a defensive ability to swallow water and expand their stomachs up to four times. Blowing into a ball shape makes pufferfish hard to grip by predators’ teeth. Many sub-species have sharp, poisonous spikes on the skin surface which lay flat when uninflated. However, when alarmed and expanded, pufferfish turn into deadly mines.

Pufferfish don’t manufacture tetrodotoxin within a body system.

Rather, tetrodotoxin is a by-product made by invasive bacteria that pufferfish ingest in their food. Snails are the main part of pufferfish diet. These subtle sea creatures contain a combination of alteromona, shewanella, and vibrio bacteria which react with pufferfish innards to isolate tetrodotoxin. Evolution created a pufferfish immunity to the toxin where sodium channels are mutated. This is why the bacterial doesn’t kill its host.

But tetrodotoxin certainly tries to kill anything trying to eat a pufferfish, particularly human beings. It does this by molecularly bonding to cells and blocking the sodium channels which allow neurological information instructing cells to be elastic. When sodium channels are blocked, cells remain neutral or paralyzed. If enough tetrodotoxin is taken, the victim suffers total paralysis including the diaphragm’s ability to move. There’s no lung inhaling or exhaling and the stricken person smothers while remaining totally conscious.

It’s a nasty way to die—lying there with eyes open and knowing the end is near. But not all pufferfish poisoning patients die. It greatly depends on the amount or dose of tetrodotoxin consumed. It also depends on having medical assistance present. Standard treatment for tetrodotoxin cases is keeping the ailing victim on mechanical ventilation while the person metabolizes the toxin and excretes it. This can be several days or even weeks if a person becomes comatose. There’s no known antidote.

Even the slightest amount of tetrodotoxin will cause discomfort and distress.

First, the lips and face feel tingly. Similarly, the finger and toes tips are affected. Headache, nausea, and vomiting follow. Then total muscular paralysis occurs along with the inability to breathe. Respiratory failure causes a loss of oxygenated blood to the heart and the patient suffers cardiac arrest.

Tetrodotoxin is non-soluble in water and heat resistant. A chef can’t flush tetrodotoxin from pufferfish sashimi flesh. Nor can they cook it out. But tetrodotoxin never occurs naturally in pufferfish flesh. It’s only introduced when an organ is punctured. Once the flesh is contaminated by a leaky liver, gut, bladder, or reproductive organ, it’s impossible to rid. It’s also impossible for the untrained eye to spot a leak as the toxin is colorless.

Despite pufferfish being so dangerous, there’s no hesitation to eat the stuff.

Japan is the largest fugu-consuming country. It’s an important part of their culinary culture. Fugu is a seasonal commodity as the fish’s toxicity is directly related to water temperature. Even though pufferfish require warm, sub-tropical water, tetrodotoxin intensity stays relatively low during the fall and winter when waters are cooler. Once the spring and summer heat hits, the bacteria blooms and pufferfish become far too toxic to risk handling. Even pufferfish urine absorbed through the skin can be lethal.

The finest fugu pufferfish come from the Shimonoseki region in southern Japan. It’s a city of 250,000 and boasts 500 licensed fugu chefs. Shimonoseki’s fish market is a Mecca for fugu aficionados. It’s world renown in fugu circles, having a giant brass pufferfish statue outside. Live and processed pufferfish are shipped worldwide every day from Shimonoseki and command the industry’s highest price.

The fugu fishing industry is tightly regulated with a restriction on licenses. Fishing openings are on a lottery base and apply daily. Shimonoseki’s fugu market processes over 300 tons of pufferfish yearly. Every day, the market hosts a pufferfish auction where buyers secretly bid with the auctioneer by hand signals concealed in a black cloth bag. This way, no one knows the current price except the successful bidder and auctioneer. This allows fluctuating market prices which is considered healthy for the fugu industry.

Fugu dining isn’t just a palatial experience.

The Japanese have fugu down to an art form. Not only are fugu chefs trained not to poison customers, they’re skilled at delighting guests who will pay $200-300 USD for a fugu dinner. Most fugu is sliced as ultra-thin shimini wafers and accompanied with sushi rice rolls and sauces. This is expected, but the presentation can be breathtaking.

Top fugu chefs take enormous pride and enjoy tremendous recognition for preparing and presenting their pufferfish. Commonly, fugu platters are laid out in traditional Japanese patterns representing swans and chrysanthemums. They’re a thing of beauty and so is how a fugu dinner unfolds.

Most fugu dinners run from five to seven courses eaten over several hours. The best fugu restaurants have live tanks where guests pick their personal pufferfish. It’s then prepared in front of the table with the fugu-master fileting the fish and plucking the poison. Guests are progressively served raw or shimini-style fugu followed by cooked fugu in soups, stews and hot sake.

But for every honorable and noble fugu establishment, there are always those pushing the rules.

Believe it or not, there’s a flourishing fugu black market where patrons seek seedy sushi saloons. Some fugu daredevils thrive on devouring fugu tainted with tetrodotoxin. They claim it gives them an incredible high found nowhere else. And where there’s a buck to be made, someone will take it.

Finally, there’s a fugu subculture with its own rules and regulations. For instance, it’s considered bad manners to ask someone else to first try a fugu serving in fine restaurants. It’s also considered crude to take a fugu bite, then mockingly grasp the throat and recoil in agony. And no patron should ever appear shocked when presented their fugu bill.

Kill Zoners: Have you ever used poison (the weapon of women) in your stories? If so, tell us about it and how it turned out. Also, has anyone out there tried fugu?