Kevin Sterling's Blog, page 2

Writer's Block

One thing I promised when I started this blog was to give people a look into my personal process of writing novels. And for those of you who are also writers, perhaps there's a trick or two I've learned that might help your craft, and no doubt vice versa.

One phenomenon everyone has either heard about or experienced is writer's block. It's something every writer suffers through from time to time, especially those of us who create fiction. It’s like hitting a roadblock in the middle of a story with no clue as to which way it should go, the frustration building and building as we rattle our brains for the answers. And if there’s an impending deadline involved, we feel like throwing in the towel and shamefully admitting our failure to responsibly meet the reasonable due dates we were given.

I think the mistake most of us make is relentlessly pushing ourselves to keep going, which just makes the situation worse. What we need to do is step back, realign our thinking, and move forward anew.

How does one do that? Here are a few suggestions.

1. Breathing. I’m not just talking about taking a few deep breaths, although that never hurts. I’m suggesting to follow the advice of Andrew Weil, MD, who says we transform our mind and body into optimum functionality when our breathing is deeper, slower, quieter, and more regular. The goal is to actually make this a lifelong practice by transforming our breathing whenever it crosses our mind, like when we’re driving, standing in line, watching TV, waiting for an appointment, etc. The idea is, if we do it often enough, our bodies will eventually start functioning that way automatically. But to get us past this CURRENT mind fog, we should treat it more like meditation. I usually close my eyes, focus entirely on my breath, and slowly count to five with each deep breath in and out, keeping the pace regular and soft. If my thoughts get distracted from my breath, I gently bring them back. Do this for 10 to 15 minutes straight, and you’ll be in a completely different frame of mind. I swear.

2. Questions and Answers. The nature of writer’s block is getting disconnected from one's storyline and characters, right? So I think it's important to open up the lines of communication and reconnect by whipping out a legal pad and hand-writing questions and answers about what’s stumping me (no computers for this exercise). If it’s a plot issue, I write something about “how could this incident have happened despite these conditions?” If I'm having trouble with a character, I start a conversation. I'll ask them why they’re so mad, or can’t figure out what to do, or don’t want to follow my storyline. I find that my characters bloom into their own, real personalities, and sometimes they have to do what’s right for them, whether I like it or not. So it’s important for me to take steps to understand them better, and sometimes I have to adjust my story accordingly.

3. Images. If a picture is worth a thousand words, a half dozen should easily get a writer through a chapter or two, wouldn’t you think? Before I start each book, I find a picture of someone who personifies each main character, and sometimes it helps to pull them up on one of my screens and stare at or talk to them when I’m looking for answers. The same is true for settings. If a scene is going on in Paris, and I don’t know where it’s headed, I’ll pull up some images of Paris and see what they inspire. If I need more stimulation, I'll try a video that resembles where I am in my book. For example, if I’m having trouble writing a car chase, I might put on that scene in “The Rock” where Sean Connery steals the German guy’s Humvee, and Nicolas Cage chases him all over San Francisco in a Ferrari. If that doesn’t get my motor running (no pun intended), I don’t know what will.

4. Theme Music. Do you know why Hollywood pays so much money to composers to score the perfect background music for a motion picture? Because it evokes emotion and immerses us in the moment. So I'll occasionally hop onto iTunes and buy the soundtrack for a movie that has similarities to my book, and it always gets me in the right mood. Since I write action, mystery & suspense novels, I'll often listen to music from James Bond, Mission Impossible and Simpson & Bruckheimer films.

5. Distraction. Everyone knows it’s occasionally necessary to take our mind off whatever we're working on to get more clarity. But I think mindless activities don’t help because a portion of our brain is still actively trying to solve the problem. I suggest truly engaging our consciousness elsewhere, thereby blocking our thoughts from the issue so we can come back fresh. For me, this is a good time to work on other book-related activities like marketing, blogging, tweeting, cover designs and book trailer concepts. It all has to be done, so I can’t possibly feel like I'm spinning my wheels.

Not everything works for everyone, nor does anything work all the time. But these practices often work for me, and I'm curious what works for YOU. So if you have a chance, please let me know!

Happy reading and writing!

Yes, I Write Sex

If you've read any of my Jack Lazar novels, you may (or may not) have been surprised to come across sex scenes that left very little to the imagination, not to mention a few that were downright outrageous. It all depends on how much you looked into the series beforehand, and/or whether you read the disclaimer on the title page!

But why, you might ask, would an author in the action, mystery & suspense genre include sex in his novels? Is it to stand out from the crowd, sell more books a la Fifty Shades of Grey, or what?

Well, it's not such an easy answer.

While sex may be a taboo subject for some, the reality is that it plays a significant part of our lives. In fact, men think about sex A LOT, whether they admit it or not. And as we all know, sex can be a wonderful if not soul-enriching experience to boot. So how can I ignore something so vital to our very existence and happiness?

Then there's the essence of my lead character, Jack Lazar. Like most men his age, Jack is heavily influenced by his primal urges, which means he can be easily manipulated by women. It is a very real phenomenon, so how much authenticity and depth could I give Jack Lazar if I carved out that integral part of his character?

If I did, it would spoil the intimate relationship my female readers have with Jack, which I believe is a big part of their experience. It's more than just imagining being the woman in his strong arms. It's about getting inside his head, experiencing his emotions, seeing what he sees, and (as one Amazon reviewer pointed out) getting a glimpse of the male psyche. They're actually able to be part of his world instead of standing outside and looking in.

After all, without knowing the intimate thoughts of the person you're with, how close can you really get?

I am also fully aware that women long to be desired, and that's exactly what Jack Lazar does. He truly DESIRES them, and my female readers love that. They also understand that it's in no uncertain terms.

Men, on the other hand, are quite visual, which is why they enjoy explicit descriptions. But one doesn't have to cheapen the experience with unsavory words, and I simply refuse to use them. Besides, I don't think women want to read that stuff, and I want everyone to be happy!

All of that being said, I realize some people don't want to get so personal, and I authentically respect that. But for those with an open mind, I hope they see these scenes as a lot of fun and a path into the character depths of Jack Lazar.

Bears, Oh My!

I know, I know. What happened to the lions and tigers? Well, we DO have mountain lions around here, but they're not the king-of-the-beast variety one normally associates with the expression, and the closest tiger is sequestered at the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo in Colorado Springs. So it's just bears. But isn't that enough?

We've had quite a few bear experiences at the ranch, but thankfully nothing life-threatening. That's because there aren't any grizzlies in this part of Colorado, and black bears usually don't like to tangle with humans, so it's not as dangerous as you'd think. You just don't want to take food away from them or get near their cubs.

Oh wait. I've already done the latter boneheaded maneuver, which I brilliantly documented in the following YouTube video: Baby Bear Video

We've noticed that younger bears are the bravest, as the aforementioned video demonstrates. In contrast, there's an older, absolutely huge black bear that visits from time to time, but all you have to do is whisper something like "hey honey, check out the bear", and he/she takes off like you actually announced your intentions to saturation bomb the property.

One day, we heard our dog barking like crazy behind the house, and when we went out to investigate we discovered she had chased a medium-sized cinnamon-colored bear up a ponderosa pine tree. He was hanging on for dear life, looking quite put out by the foul, raucous creature beneath him, and he looked toward us as if pleading for assistance.

It took some effort, but we managed to get our dog inside, and we continued to watch out the window as the bear climbed down the tree, walked about 20 feet, and climbed up another one. Great.

The problem with that is we don't want the guy to get comfortable hanging around here, so I went outside with our BB air rifle and just shot him in the butt to make him less comfortable with the idea (no physical harm done, I assure you). But to our surprise, he stood up on the branch of the tree, raised his paws in the air, and let out a huge, "I'm going to kill you with my bear paws" roar with his mouth gaped open and snarling, his impressive collection of teeth on display.

At that point, I announced to my wife that it was probably a good time to go inside for a little while. And when we returned an hour later, he was gone. But where?

Thankfully, we never found out.

Writing in the Mountains

I know what you're thinking. It must be a cakewalk to sit way up here in the mountains and write books. No hustle and bustle, no distractions, beautiful scenery, fresh air, delightful creatures romping about for the sole purpose of providing us with endless amusement, etc.

Well...yes and no.

Admittedly, it's gorgeous here, and mountains in general are mysteriously inspirational, just like the ocean. All I have to do is walk out to the patio from my study, look at the panoramic view of the Sangre de Cristos, and I'm ready to start making things up. Add a glass of Scotch to that scenario, and we're really talking. Some of my best (and worst) work is done AFTER cocktail hour!

But the environment inside our house is no different than a home in the big city. And because of my obsession with technology, it's probably worse than most. For starters, my computer workstation has four screens (not counting the TV), thereby allowing me to have my manuscript, outline, stock-trading software, email, Internet and social media conveniently segregated on my desktop.

Wait a minute. If you did the math, you just figured out that I'm two screens short. Well, I'm afraid it's going to stay that way because I told my wife I was tossing around the idea of wiring up a couple more, and her response was not exactly enthusiastic. Apparently, she's already worried I'll go blind from the massive barrage of synthetic light in my face all day, so adding to that problem is not her idea of a rational decision. Okay, maybe she's right.

I treat my writing like a business, which includes a regimented 45-hour base work week, Monday through Friday, with extra hours and/or weekends added as needed - just like a regular job. So, as you might imagine, most of my work time is full of distractions like the stock market, emails, tweets, Facebook posts, phone calls and texts.

Hey, just because we're remote doesn't mean we live like the Beverly Hillbillies - before they moved to Californ-I-A, that is.

Then you have to add the time-consuming aspects of living on a remote mountaintop, not to mention being entirely off-the-grid. Thank God for satellite Internet and DIRECTV with NFL Sunday Ticket.

For example, running to the store takes an hour. Getting packages and picking up the mail can be a fiasco (see my last blog), and chipmunks need to be thoughtfully relocated. And when one of the many systems around here that duplicate city services goes down, who knows how long it will take yours truly to fix it, especially considering that it's anywhere from one to five hours just to run out and get the parts I need.

Take water, for example. The last time it went out, the problem was reported by my wife without her saying a word. She just showed up at my study with her hands on her hips and white facial wash covering her face. Like a crack detective, I promptly deduced what was wrong.

I swear, this actually happened a couple of weeks ago, and I had no choice but to drop everything and get on the job.

Seriously, when you live way up here, you can't exactly get a tradesman to pop over to the house for a quick repair, so I've had to learn how to do pretty much everything myself. I just draw the line at servicing the septic tank.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. I just can't help but dispel any illusions people might have about life up here.

That being said, I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Shelby

If you've read my bio, you know that Shelby is our Golden Retriever, and she really enjoys romping around our mountain ranch.

Shelby was a rescue dog, and we adopted her at about one and a half years of age with a litany of issues that others weren't willing to deal with. For example, she's an escape artist who can open kennels and leap over a six-foot fence with no respect whatsoever for why someone put it there in the first place. Fortunately, we have 70 unfenced acres up here backed up to wilderness land, so we just let her run around to her heart's content, and she always comes back. No problem there.

The main reason she comes back is because she is emotionally incapable of living without me for any extended period of time. She is clearly MY dog, which became immediately apparent when she walked right up to me at the rescue place and started licking my face - something she had reportedly never done before. In fact, she is so desperate to be near me at all times that it is often challenging to go to the bathroom or take a shower, but I'm quite firm about protecting my privacy these days, especially after she lunged for my equipment the one and only time I actually let her see me naked. Thankfully, I was able to shield myself in time. Whew!

But her general attitude was the thing that got me at first - or more specifically, her audacious belief that anything you told her to do was just a "suggestion". She thought it was well within her right to veto anything we said and go on with whatever interested her more, like looking out the window or lying on the floor. When we called her, she would just look at us in an aloof manner, and you could see the wheels turning in her head as she mulled over her options. Fortunately, we have just about cured her of all that, but it took a clicker, 200 pounds of doggie treats, and capitalizing on the quintessential Golden Retriever's desire to please. I just don't understand why we have to get so animated about being displeased. It's like a Shakespeare tragedy around here sometimes.

Shelby's number one "job" when she leaves the house is to check the chipmunk traps (see my earlier blog about our leading-edge chipmunk relocation program). If one of them is full, she will start barking like crazy and nose the trap around while the poor chipmunk inside holds on for dear life. That's my queue to run outside and move the trap to the bed of our ranch truck while Shelby tries to tackle me and the trap to the ground, clearly with a mind toward getting the most out of her entertainment dollar.

Once the critter has been relocated down the mountain, I return with the trap, refill it with peanut butter and put it back out. But Shelby doesn't understand what's going on because she'll bark and paw at the trap for hours if I let her, which inevitably causes the trap door to close, meaning that I have to reset it again and again. She can clearly see the critter is gone, so I can only assume she's ready for another one to appear, apparently out of thin air. How else do they get in there, anyway?

We were also warned by the rescue people that Shelby is a counter-terrorist. And while we have pretty much cured her of that, I DID lose a third of my grilled salmon last night by temporarily setting my plate too close to the edge while I poured myself another glass of Pinot Noir.

We live, we learn.

I Got Your Package Right Here

One of the most interesting challenges with living on the top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere is receiving packages from UPS, FedEx and the Post Office. And let me tell you, between my wife and I, we get A LOT of them, every single day, especially since I order everything humanly possible from Amazon.

The crux is that we live on the far edge of a huge private community, leaving these delivery people with a 20-minute uphill battle from the county road to get up here, so it's not a slam dunk that things will show up on our doorstep.

For starters, the Post Office won't come up here at all, but we've worked out a deal with our mail carrier (Michele) to wrap our packages in plastic bags and leave them behind our enormous mailbox, which is - you guessed it - on the county road. That's 40 minutes of driving for me to go get them. Imagine how much writing I could get done in that time!

Then there's FedEx.

The Ground guy (John) comes up here all the time, no questions asked, even though it's clear he doesn't want to. He usually leaves packages on our doorstep, rings the bell and runs like crazy in escape mode back to his truck. But if I hear his truck pull up, I'll go outside and chat with him because he sounds EXACTLY like Adam Sandler. No kidding. It's hilarious.

But Lori, the FedEx Express lady, is another story, and it's anyone's guess what she'll do. Sometimes she actually shows up, after which we usually pop open a bottle of Champagne. But at other times, she'll sneak things (usually FedEx letters and pouches) into our mailbox without letting us know. And by 9:00pm, with crickets chirping outside, we figure out she's not coming. So it's a 40-minute trek the next morning to go get them.

On a few occasions, Lori has called us to ask that we come buy her HOUSE (a delightful mobile home off the county road) to retrieve them. "You have to pick up your mail anyway, don't you?" she'll ask. She doesn't understand that the reason we purchased a mailbox the size of Cowboys Stadium is so we could pick up the mail just once or twice a week.

One time Lori left me a voicemail saying she had placed the important package I was looking for in the passenger seat of the Chevy Blazer parked at her house, and I could go get it there. Classic!

But the best delivery service up here is UPS. Seriously.

When we finished this house in 2000, I decided to just order a DVD from Amazon and see if it actually showed up. And lo and behold, a couple of days later, we saw a UPS van coming up the mountain with a trail of dust flying behind it. And when the driver arrived, he introduced himself as Henry, gave me his cell number, and told me we could coordinate whenever the roads were covered in snow or mud, as his one-wheel-drive van wouldn't make it up these steep roads, especially the last half a mile to our house.

Now, that hasn't stopped Henry from TRYING to make it up here, and I've had to use our ranch truck (4WD with big honkin' mud tires) to tow his van out of the mud, snow or ice. You gotta love him for the effort!

Henry is such a great guy, in fact, that he often collects packages from one or both of the FedEx carriers and brings them up here along with his own. They owe him big time.

Then there was the occasion, five years ago, when Henry invited me to join his fantasy football league, and I accepted the offer. Good thing because it's the most fun FFL group I've ever been a part of. In fact, I just now picked up a couple of players off the waiver wire!

Anyway, the moral of the story is: if you're going to send me a package, please go UPS. I'll be thinking about you quite fondly afterwards.

Cheers!

Chipmunks

Let's kick off this new blog by diving right into a story about life on the mountain.

As the blog summary says, my wife and I live in the middle of nowhere, on top of a mountain in Colorado with our Golden Retriever, Shelby. Don't get me wrong, it's absolutely beautiful up here, but there are many more challenges than these two city slickers would have expected.

For example, chipmunks. Evil chipmunks. Who steal things.

A little background on this. We hired some local guys a couple of years ago to build my wife a huge vegetable garden - about the size of a Boeing 747 - and it is surrounded by an 8-foot fence to keep critters out...which we ultimately discovered just means deer. Bears can climb over the fence and have a feast, bunnies can tunnel under the gates to have their own little dinner party, and chipmunks can miraculously squeeze through the wire grates to do whatever they please. Just lovely.

By the way, chipmunks adore all sorts of fruits and vegetables, and their favorite time to purloin these treasures is about half an hour before we go out to harvest them. Probably because they're perfectly ripe and delicious. At least they have good taste.

A great example was a tomato plant (prior to building the garden) that we planted at the top of a set of stone steps. One morning, we looked out the kitchen window to see a well-planned heist going on with one chipmunk in the middle of the plant, plucking off red ripe tomatoes and passing them down to his buddies below. They, in turn, began batting the tomatoes down the steps with reckless abandon, jumping into the air from one step to the next with such enthusiasm that it looked like a tequila-fueled Cinco de Mayo parade.

Chipmunks also like to drink water by sinking their teeth into irrigation drip hoses, which admittedly creates the most beautiful fountains amidst our landscaping. But really, we were shooting for less Bellagio and more Ritz Carlton Bachelor Gulch. They particularly like to build homes in gas grills, giving one the rare, heart-stopping experience of a chipmunk flying past your head on its escape launch as you open the lid. Seriously, I could go on and on.

So, back to the garden. We can't do anything about the bears other than rely on Shelby to bark at them (which works quite well, I must say), but we fixed the bunny problem by installing concrete stones under the gates. Check. The chipmunk solution was a little more labor intensive.

Are you ready for this?

We relocated them. All of them. Using humane traps filled with peanut butter. I set out two traps every morning, and by cocktail hour they would both be full, at which time I loaded them into the back of one of the ATV's, carted them about 2 miles down the mountain, and let them go. At last count, I had relocated almost 70 of the little rascals, and they appear (fingers crossed) to be all gone. We've had lots of veggies to eat this year, that's for sure.

My wife thought the image of me driving away every evening in an ATV with two bouncing chipmunk cages in the back was hilarious, and she ultimately named my chosen release area "The Chipmunk Cotillion". We drive past it on our way to and from town, and I'll be damned if the little critters aren't zooming all over the place down there.

One of these days I'll blog about Shelby and her take on the chipmunk traps. Dogs' minds work in mysterious ways...