On Taking Advice

Everyone knows that assholes are like opinions, but you can only flush the product of one of them. The other–that ripe, stinky opinion–sticks to you like…well, you know.

Only you know what direction your story is headed, so only you can decide how to build it. If you allow others too much freedom to tell you the “write way” to write your piece, you’re asking for trouble. Working with many fine writers in C.C. (Critique Circle), I’ve noticed a pattern that seems to develop as writers begin receiving critiques for their submitted work:

Critters tend to nit-pick small details and not the larger, more important story-line.

Sometimes, they do this innocently, not meaning to do anything more than fill a critique with words–and look smart doing so. I myself hate this.

Some critters spend so much time away between chapters–critting other works by other authors, or writing, or living life–that when they return, they don’t really have a good feel for where they left off and are too lazy to reread the last chapter to get back into your story. Then they question everything, asking all manner of asinine questions, and report to you on a story that they can barely recall. This is very frustrating. An idle comment, something they mention as a change you should make–that would call for a major rewrite–is formed from a faulty memory. Not cool.

This post really doesn’t have a point, but I just wanted to have a post here on the subject. I might add to this post, or toss in a part II that has a point, . Don’t dwell on an opinion you can’t find merit in, and never, ever, be the guy that gives stupid advice. That makes a person an asshole. And that’s my opinion on that.

The Dumbest Advice Ever

Write what you know.

“Creative writing teachers should be purged until every last instructor who has uttered the words “Write what you know” is confined to a labor camp. Please, talented scribblers, write what you don’t. The blind guy with the funny little harp who composed The Iliad , how much combat do you think he saw?”
–P.J. O’Rourke

Get over yourself. You’re not that interesting. Those ten or twelve maniacs scatching and clawing to get out of your head may be, but not you. But you can tell us about them.

I can only speak for myself, but unless your name is Hugh Hefner or Stephen Hawking, I have no interest in knowing what you know. I may want to know you, but not which direction you comb your back hair or build statues from ear wax and snot. (Well, I might be slightly interested–in a “wha..?” kind of way, but nothing more.)

It’s my belief that you should write what you want to read. The authors I like to read–with the exception of Dean Koontz–can’t seem to pound the pulp out fast enough for me. Tom Robbins, in my opinion, is a genius. He should write four books a year. But the down-side to that would rival the state of the present NHL: volume would dilute the talent, and bring about the slow and steady march toward mediocrity.

Don’t get me wrong, though. You should write what you like, but you’re never going to get away from the fact that you’re writing it from YOUR point of view, giving it YOUR slanted perspective. Given your view on the death penalty, say, you’d probably be a tad more sentimental in constructing a story of an inmate with less than two weeks left to go before he is dragged down that last long corridor.

Project yourself. Be the villain. Be the saint. Be a little girl with a missing tooth and sticky fingers with an all-encompassing love of pink unicorns. Maybe you’ve never pasted a whole book of pretty ponies and colourful doggie stickers to the surface of your daddy’s oak desk, but you can regress yourself back to a time in your life when something like that might have been your cup of cocoa–then write about it. Writers are actually quite boring. And whiney. And verbose (about subjects that normal folk couldn’t give a rat’s ass to know about). Don’t be you, be them; any of those voices struggling for control in your head would be more than glad to take the reins for a while. If you don’t know enough about “them” to pull it off without guessing at most of what you want to write, then do some research, feel creepy and hang out in a chat-room frequented by your target character. I did this very thing for a couple of teen characters from my novel, “Dropcloth Angels”.

The only thing you “know” that should be in your writing is your talent and boundless curiosity, nothing more.

A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To 3000 Words…

Whoever said that writing a short story was easier than writing a novel length manuscript can kiss my patootie. And I’ll tell you why:

Recently, a friend said to me, “Gerry, you should put a short story or two up on your site in the off chance an agent or publisher is interested and wants to get a feel for your style.”

Damn fine idea, I thought. Now all I need to do is do it. Being that this is the Christmas season, I decided to write a quaint little ditty about a young divorcee named Christmas who was–you guessed it–born on Christmas day. Turns out, young Chrissie is having a hell of a time just getting herself alone with her cats and wine. If it’s not a neighbor across the hall and his poem-quoting parrot (named Poe), then she’s on the phone with a burly Mexican named Jesus, who only calls her at Christmas–something that wouldn’t bother her so much if he didn’t breathe so heavily and grunt before saying, “Thanks, chica. I needed that.” Rounding the cast out, I have a mysterious man who seems more than moderately curious as to the whereabouts of the neighbor across the hall–who, by the way, dropped the care of his Parrot, Poe, into Chrissie’s lap before leaving his apartment in a hurry. Did I mention that she has four cats?

See?

I humbly submit that writing a short story is as tough or tougher than writing a much larger story. As it stands, I’m hoping to keep this 3000 word story under 15,000. This isn’t a bad thing, really–unless I was limited to those 3000 words by an editor or contest that stated I COULD NOT EXCEED 3000 WORDS. With that in mind, I asked my buddy, Google, for a hand. There are many sites out there tailored to writers of short fiction–more than I could likely state here. If you’re curious, and want to look for yourself, do it, but I took the best ideas (in my opinion) and pooled them together to make my own version of a “How To.” Of all the ideas out there, the pyramid was the most comprehensive and easily implemented, so that’s the type I’m going to show you here.

The definitive Pyramid Scheme For Short Stories

1. First off, you need to choose a narrative point of view. You probably already have an idea in your head how you want to do this, but here are some examples. You can write your story as if you were one of the characters (first person–seems a sound choice for a short story), as a detached narrator who presents just one character’s thoughts and observations (third-person limited–my personal fav), or as a narrator who is fully removed from the actions within the story, but presents the thoughts and observations of all the characters (third-person omniscient–not much of a fan of this one, but some people can pull it off nicely). A first-person point of view will refer to the central character as “I” instead of “he” or “she.”
2. Create a protagonist, or main character. This should be the most developed and usually the most sympathetic character in your story.
3. Create a problem, or conflict (or a progressive series of them), for your protagonist. The conflict of your story should take one of five basic forms: person vs. person, person vs. himself or herself, person vs. nature, person vs. society, or person vs. God or fate. If you choose a person vs. person conflict, create an antagonist to serve as the person your protagonist must contend with.
4. Establish believable characters and settings, with vivid descriptions and dialogue, to create a story that your readers will care about. I don’t need to tell you that, with a SHORT STORY, every word counts as one that may possibly put you over said word limit (if there is one).
5. Build the story’s tension by having the protagonist make several failed attempts to solve or overcome the problem. (You may want to skip this step for shorter stories.)
6. Create a crisis that serves as the last chance for the protagonist to solve his or her problem.
7. Resolve the tension by having the protagonist succeed through his or her own intelligence, creativity, courage or other positive attributes. This is usually referred to as the story’s climax.
8. Extend this resolution phase, if you like, by reflecting on the action of the story and its significance to the characters or society. In a thimble, this means: Tie a bow in its hair and slap it on the ass. Your story is done.

So there you have it. Now go and do it.

Inspiration and The Muse…

I am now a blogger (and she helped me via a chat bubble). Thanks Court. I’d still be…well…not here if not for her knowledge.

Now on to my muse. I find inspiration in everything: A word, a look from a stranger, a single song lyric. Hell, I wrote a 160k word manuscript based on two lines from a song.

But.

Ever have those days when the sceen mocks you, stares back at you with that same vacant expression you get from the pimpled teen who bags your groceries? Me, too. But that never lasts very long, my friend. During times like that, I reach into my magic bag of lame and pull out my one-fingered response to the contemptuous little cursive line that connects all (and preceeds THE WORD by a hair).

You wanna brainstorm? Start on your desk. On it, you’ll find that used tissue (not yours), hardened and wrapped into a lopsided badminton birdie–waiting only for you to toss it the rest of the way to the trash can. Beside that–or, stuck to it–you’ll find three spent rifle rounds…um. You’ll find a blank disc that you have never seen before, and wonder from where it came, who placed it there, and why they hadn’t taken it along with them. As your eyes wander across the desk, you see several copied pages of some forgotten Web site with a walkthru for some Poke-what’s-it that one of your kids downloaded and read, didn’t understand, then left discarded–one foot away from that trash can. A puddle of staples, left for you like the nail clippings of some rude robot (who obviously didn’t see the trash can right over there). 

You lift your coffee mug and see more rings than a four-thousand year old tree.

Under the desk, you find yesterday’s feeble attempt to hit said garbage can…

And it’s right then you realise that your desk is such a mess that you should probably put that chapter off until you’ve had a chance to tidy things up a bit.

Sound familiar?

The Muse hates a mess. She won’t come home with some slob who shoves his pizza boxes under the cushions of his couch, or hides the dirty dishes in the front hall closet. Fill the trash can, empty it, and then come back.

Now take a look at your desk. Nice and clean? Good, now when you stare at the top your desk–as the reflection of the overhead pot-light glares back at you with the radiance of a dwarf-star–there is nothing there to distract you from the nothing you’re trying to find. It is right here in this moment, when there is nothing of the outside world there to press its snotty nose up against your reality, and say, “Whatcha doing?”

All canvases start as a blank white cloth. They do not begin as something you need to scrape algae from before commencing to lay down a work of art that will tremble the very foundations of the known Universe.

I probably could’ve told you to stare at a wall until being goosed by the Muse, but where’s the fun in that? Just be bored–it works for me.

A little about myself and this Blog

Welcome to my Blog. I’ve written one novel length manuscript, “Dropcloth Angels,” and have two others on the go as I speak. I have yet to shop the first story around; if I don’t send it, they won’t reject it.
Here, you’ll find links and fixes that have aided me immensely, and some sage advice from a man who has no right to give it. But, if you want proper, go back to school. If you want interesting, well, I think I might have some of that.
I will be posting short stories, exerpts from works in progress, and tid-bits that didn’t make the final cut (for whatever reason) of any novel of mine. Oh, and a little poetry–just so you might get the misguided impression that I’m deeper than a gutter puddle.
This blog is a work under construction and the foreman is an idiot, so please come back if you find nothing here now. He may get it right eventually.
G

I write, but am I right?

Take any and all you see here as how I perceive, or believe an edict or direction in the craft of writing, to be the correct solution or practice. After all, I’m only god-like, and not God Himself.

Okay. Now, after reading that piece of crap, know this: I know absolutely nothing about the craft of writing, but I know what I like. And I also know where to go to find the answers to most of my questions: (Smarter people)and there are a few (billion). When that fails, or I’m too lazy to google, I make s#!t up. I’m damn good at that last part, so take any advice from yours truly with a cup ‘o syrup and three or four crackers.

Gerry Johnston 12/09/09