Jonathan Janz's Blog, page 25

Writing Advice #2: Some Wisdom from RATATOUILLE

Last week, after making the foolhardy decision to open my mouth and share some advice about writing and publishing, I wrote this post about The Danger of Knowing Everything. While my intent is never to discourage, I want these posts to match my personality and my mindset. I’ve always been an optimistic realist. I have a can-do attitude and more tenacity than I probably need, but I’m a realistic person too. So if anything I say disheartens you, please know that my intent isn’t to inflict any sort of psychological damage on you. But there are many ways to lead folks astray, and blithely telling everyone on the planet that they (incorrect grammar used on purpose) should try to be published authors and money-making writers is just as irresponsible as discouraging them.

Remy’s Shot

Having said all that, let’s examine a passage from Ratatouille. This flick is one of my very favorites, and it contains all sorts of wisdom. There’s a great exchange between Remy the Rat and Chef Gusteau that goes like this:

Gusteau: What do I always say? Anyone can cook!

Remy: Well, yeah, anyone can. That doesn’t mean that anyone should.

What should we take from this? Frankly, I think both parties are correct. What Remy’s saying is true—not everyone belongs in a five-star kitchen preparing food for others. But Chef Gusteau’s attitude is the more useful one, at least for the aspiring chef—anyone can cook. If the folks in Ratatouille didn’t end up buying into this idea, the movie wouldn’t have ended as beautifully as it did. The transformed critic Anton Ego later says, “Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere.”

The Joy of Discovery

To which you probably shrug your shoulders, frown, and say, “Okay. How does that help me?”

My answer? Maybe it doesn’t help you…but then again it might.

Let me tell you some things I know…

1. I know that no one can write like you.

2. I know that no one has lived your exact life.

3. I know that writing is a beautiful thing even if no one ever sees what you write. It can enrich you and help you become happier. It can also lead you to feel miserable and crabby. It all depends on how you approach it.

Optimism. Enthusiasm. Necessary Ingredients Both.

4. I know that taking a shot at a dream is never harmful as long as you do so with your eyes wide open and you don’t hurt others in the process.

5. I know that you miss one hundred percent of the shots you never take. Being paralyzed by fear is no way to live.

6. I know that you might fail to be published, and the odds are very likely that you’ll fail to make money with your writing. But someone has to be published, right? Someone has to make money at it. And it’s possible that you’ll do one or both of those things.

7. I know that if you know these truths going in, you’ll enjoy the process of writing and getting better at writing, which is indeed a reward. That probably sounds cheesy to you, but I find the cheesy ideas are often the truest. So get over it and stop acting like a thirteen-year-old kid who’s too embarrassed to sit in the front seat next to his mom for fear his friends won’t think he’s cool. I have no time to worry about being cool. I’m thoroughly uncool and I couldn’t be happier.

Dreams

8. I know that if you approach writing with an open mind, a healthy dose of humility, a stalwart work ethic, and an unshakeable belief in your ability to improve, you will improve. How much you improve is partially dependent on what is already in you, but it also correlates directly to what you do.

9. I know that you should never bet against yourself.

10. I know that others might want you to fail, but truthfully, they don’t matter. They can’t stop you if you want to improve. Again, you might never rise to the level that you dream of rising to in your secret heart, but you will certainly rise higher if you focus on what you want and replace negative energy with positive energy.

11. I know that determination isn’t the only thing that matters, but it is the thing that matters most.

And those are the things I take from Ratatouille. You have to know you might not get everything you want out of writing. But with the right attitude, you will get something out of writing. And you might become the next Remy. How will you know if you don’t try?

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to work on my latest novel.

The Right Attitude

Jonathan Janz ‘Savage Species Part Four: The Arena’ Review

Reblogged from Horror Novel Reviews:

Written by: Joe Hempel (of Top of the Heap Reviews)

The action packed end of Dark Zone left you wondering what was going to happen with Frank Red Elk and Jesse as they took a ride with the Night Flyers.

Suspense is the name of the game to start this one.  The two are trapped with only a stick of dynamite and who knows what on the other side of the walls.

Read more… 245 more words

NEW review of the soon-to-be-released fourth installment of my serial novel SAVAGE SPECIES. This one's called The Arena. Check out what Mr. Joe Hempel writing for Horror Novel Reviews has to say!

[caption id="attachment_1363" align="alignnone" width="432"] There's no escaping...[/caption]

World War Z: An Incredibly Short Review

This is going to be short. Why? Because I’m tired and I want to go read. Enough of a reason for ya?

Either way, here goes…

I liked it. I haven’t read the novel, so I didn’t have my teeth clenched going into the film (How dare they change the book?! Hollywood NEVER does that!). I also like Brad Pitt. I know some folks don’t, but ever since I saw him in True Romance (minor, but awesome role and performance) and in Johnny Suede (yep, I was one of fourteen people to have seen that film), I’ve really been a fan. So that’s probably why I liked the film. I’m also a sucker for the whole father-protecting-his-family trope. Because I would protect my family from zombies. I’d soil myself in the process, but I’d certainly protect them. In fact…has anyone tried accidental defecation as a zombie deterrent yet? Or uncontrolled urination?

*hustles over to notebook and scribbles idea for zombie story*

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“If they can smell fecal matter, they won’t hurt you!”

Anyway…

No, the film wasn’t earth-shattering, and sure, it would’ve been twenty times better had it been rated R, but the zombies-on-a-plane scene was cool, as was the first zombie attack (which I found genuinely frightening).

There were problems, plot holes, and some silliness mixed in, but perhaps because my expectations were somewhere beneath the theatre basement for the picture, I ended up liking it. My favorite part, by far, was a wordless confrontation Pitt had with the chattering zombie. I can’t find a screen cap of it, but Pitt did a great job in the scene, and the zombie makeup was good.

So…yeah, World War Z wasn’t a great movie, but it was worth my time.

Johnny Suede. No caption necessary.

Have a good night, Friends. I’m going to read me some Elmore Leonard. Bandits. It’s awesome so far.

Writing Advice: The Danger of Knowing Everything

As promised last night, I’m going to begin including bits and pieces of…well, I dare not call it wisdom about writing and publishing, so I’ll just call it my thoughts on writing and publishing. You down with that?

Well even if you’re not, here goes. My first “thought” on writing…

As with many of the ideas I’ll share, this one is a thought you can apply not only to writing but to life as well. So what’s my profound thought?

Never believe you know everything.

Now that might sound simplistic to some of you, and perhaps it is, but if it’s such a simple concept why do so many folks not grasp it? There are probably millions of writers out there, and quite a few of them believe they know everything. You ever meet someone like that? Maybe it’s the mechanic who, because he knows how many RPMs it takes to lube a crankshaft (and yes, that was nonsensical on purpose), he is somehow the profoundest creature in the universe. Or maybe it’s the little league hitter who stinks at hitting, and no matter how hard you try to get him to get his front foot to stop pointing at the pitcher, the little whipper snapper won’t listen to you. I mean, it’s so freaking aggravating! If he’d just listen, he might not strike out every stinking…

*clears throat* Okay, those were just hypotheticals, of course, but you all know what I mean. Know-it-alls. We’ve all met them.

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“Yep, gotcha some loose ball bearings in your woozer valve…”

And writing seems to attract know-it-alls in great number. I figure that’s because many of them were the smartest kids in their classes, or at least they fancied themselves the smartest, and this stunning lack of self-awareness has continued on into adulthood.

But folks, being a know-it-all can be fatal for a writer. Granted, I’m sure there are instances of famous writers who are absolute egotists. Jerks of the highest order. Paragons of pomposity.

But most great writers aren’t. Over the course of the last several years, I’ve interacted (online) with Jack Ketchum, Peter Straub, David Morrell, Ramsey Campbell, Joe R. Lansdale, and Mandy Patinkin (since he’s a Facebook friend, I’m obligated to drop his name whenever I get the opportunity). What do these six men have in common? Coolness? Sure. Suavity? Perhaps. Braided armpit hair? Not sure about that one. But what I do know is that each of the six has been gracious, kind, and most of all humble when talking to me. This will be a post for a later date, because it really is a different can of worms, but I can tell you that these people all share something else too: curiosity. Now that’s also another blog post for another day, but I mention it because it’s a symptom of their shared humility—a humility born of the knowledge that they don’t know everything.

Mandy Patinkin: Actor, Singer, and My Dear Facebook Friend

And if they don’t know everything, I think to myself, how much is there that I don’t know?

The answer? Lots.

In fact, the more I live, the more I realize I don’t know. And that’s a good thing. No one is as humble as a truly curious author. Because a curious and humble author will open his mind to learning about things he knows nothing about. He will admit that there are others who know more than he does. About everything. And he will also know that his writing is not perfect. And it will never be perfect.

If David Morrell is humble–and he is–then you sure as heck should be too

I’m sorry to break that to some of you. If you’re harboring the notion that you’re a completely finished product as a writer, please tell me your name. That way I can make sure not to buy your books. Because smugness shows in one’s writing. So does the belief that everything a writer writes is perfect. Because when a writer sees himself as too big or too perfect for criticism, that writer has ceased to grow. That writer, in his own inflated mind, has arrived.

Folks, let me tell you something. I haven’t arrived. If I get a ten-book deal worth a hundred million bucks, I won’t have arrived. Heck, if I win the Pulitzer, co-write a book with Stephen King, and receive a commendation from the American Medical Association for my contributions to creative literary disembowelments, I’ll still not have made it. Though getting that commendation would be pretty cool.

The fact is, you don’t know everything. Neither do I. So we darn well better respect those who know more than we do. That’s not to say we should treat them as gods or ultimate authorities (yet another blog post for yet another day), but yes, it does mean we should realize that most great writers are able to say these three words:

I don’t know.

They’re easy for me. I say ‘em every day.

Q: Daddy, what’s the distance between Denver and Egypt?

A: I don’t know. I’ll look it up.

Q: Daddy, why do you only have two chest hairs?

A: I don’t know. I’ll read up on chest hair growth in perplexed fathers.

Q: Daddy, why do I feel funny whenever I see a pretty girl?

A: (smiling) Well, I do know a little something about that…

You get the picture. I don’t consider myself an ignorant person, but if you put the things I know in one bowl and the things I don’t know in another, the “know bowl” would look like one of those paltry meals you get at an expensive restaurant. You know the kind? Where you’re supposed to act like eighty bucks for a sprig of parsley thrown on top of something that looks like it was regurgitated by a drunken antelope is a fair price?

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“That’ll be eighty dollars. One-thirty with tip”

So the “know bowl” would be pretty empty. And the “don’t know bowl”? It would be so full the weight would reduce it to powder. Instantly.

And I’d wager that, no matter how smart you are, it’s the same ratio for you.

So stop pretending you know everything. You don’t. And better still, you don’t have to. What would be the fun in that? Where would be the discovery in that? In the vast scheme of things, you know very little, and that’s a wonderful thing. A beautiful thing. A thing full of potential and the possibility for growth.

That’s all for now. Sorry for rambling.

Take care, Friends.

And grow.

A Decision about Giving Writing Advice

My wife and I’ve had the following conversation about a dozen times since I started this blog:

Wife: Why don’t you ever post about writing?

Me: I do. I talk about The Sorrows, House of Skin, The Darkest—

Wife: That’s not what I mean. I mean writing. I mean how to write and how to get published. That’s what a lot of people want to know.

Me: Yeah, but who am I to talk about that stuff?

And around we go. Basically, the reason I haven’t shared any of my thoughts about writing and getting published is primarily that I don’t want it to seem like I think I’m an expert. Because I don’t. At all.

Jack Ketchum. Yep, you should listen to him.

Stephen King is qualified to talk about writing. Jack Ketchum is qualified too. Joe R. Lansdale, Larry McMurtry, and Joyce Carol Oates are incredible authors as well, so I’d definitely consider them qualified. I’d listen to Cormac McCarthy give advice about writing. I’d sit in awestruck joy while J.K. Rowling talked about…well, anything. And hearing Elmore Leonard explain his thoughts on the craft would be like hearing Greg Maddux talk about how to outsmart a hitter.

Yeah, those people I’d listen to. But me? Are you nuts? Wifey, are you reading this?

Having said all those things, I’m about to break my silence on the aforementioned topics. No, this isn’t going to transform into a how-to blog or a so-called blueprint for how to get published. But yeah, I’ve got a few thoughts on those matters, and I’ve decided to share them from time to time.

J.K. Rowling? Yeah, you BETTER listen to her.

But there’s only one condition. Are you ready?

My condition is that you don’t start seeing me as a pompous know-it-all. What do you mean, you already do?! Then get the hell out of here!

Kidding. Mostly. But I do want everyone to know that I offer my thoughts humbly, unaffectedly, and that I don’t consider myself a master of anything. Except maybe Thomas the Train voices. I do rock those. And I fully intend—if I get famous someday—to join Alec Baldwin, George Carlin, and Ringo Starr in the illustrious line of Sodorian narrators. You just wait until I drop my Gordon impression on you. You think you’ve heard Gordon before? I’ll show you Gordon.

And I’ll share some thoughts on writing and publishing. Soon.

And Elmore Leonard. If you don’t listen to him, I might drive to your house. With Elmore riding shotgun.

Have a good night!

 

Is Man a Savage Species?

Hey, Friends! I blogged today at the Samhain Horror website about the most savage and most loving species of all: man.

Check it out here. And stay safe, Friends. There are a lot of, well, people out there.

Fireflies and Savage Species

I love fireflies. I always call them lightning bugs, but fireflies sounds more like Bradbury, which means it’s lovelier. We’re starting to see a few fireflies in our yard and will be spotting more as July continues.

My Glowing-Rumped Friend

It’s one of my favorite parts of July. That and Lil Kim‘s birthday.

Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you don’t already have something big lined up for the eleventh. We’re all friends here. Right?

A-hem. So the other order if business is my periodical check-in with you about Samhain Horror’s first serialized novel SAVAGE SPECIES. The first installment is free and can be filched just about anywhere. Okay, downloaded just about anywhere—I just wanted to use “filched” in a blog post.

Free, Friends. Read it today.

 

The second installment can be gotten right here. Or anywhere else.

They’re ALIIIIIIIIVE!!!!!

And the third here. Or anywhere else.

In which things get even darker…

That’s all for tonight, Friends. If you need me, I’ll be watching a Downton Abbey rerun with my wife. Or standing gape-mouthed on the lawn watching the firefly show.

 

Blogging from the E.R. on the Fourth of July

Hey, Pals. Short post today because, well, I can’t see. At least not well. My left eye is a throbbing blur, and my right eye has decided to become watery and light sensitive.

How the world looks right now

Allow me to explain.

I was buckling my two-year-old into her carseat today to take her and my five-year-old daughter to the mall. After I buckled my two-year-old, as I often do I kissed her on the leg. She’s in a mischievous state of mind these days and is given to biting and scratching to see what my response will be. And no, please don’t make any Linda Blair jokes about her—she’s as sweet and wonderful and amazing as any daughter could be.

But man, those thumbnails are sharp.

Artist’s depiction of my daughter’s right thumbnail

 

One moment I’m bent over kissing her chubby knee, and the next she’s plunging that hard blade of thumbnail into my left eye and then jerking down.

Yeah…that sort of hurt. I feel like a putz for going to the E.R., but one of my relatives who works in the eye field demanded I be seen today because corneal abrasions can sometimes lead to even worse things. Like loss of eyesight in the eye. And that wouldn’t be my ideal way to celebrate our nation’s independence.

So I’m here. I’ve been trying to write, but my eyes keep watering up, and the screen is a blearily glowing rectangle.

Have a great Fourth, Friends. I’ll be wrestling with my daughters and my son this afternoon and then lighting fireworks later. With safety goggles on.

A Goggly Fourth of July!

 

Musical Brilliance: AC/DC’s “Back in Black”

I love this song. It’s one of those songs that gets better every time you listen to it. I could wax poetic for hours about why I love it or torture you with my own rendition (in which I make my voice sound like an old lady with her pinkie caught in a paper shredder), but instead of subjecting you to those horrors, I’ll give you three reasons why I love “Back in Black” so dearly:

Angus

1. Brian Johnson‘s Instrument* 

I’ve made a great many mistakes in my life, and it’s time for me to come clean about one of them: I used to watch American Idol. Religiously.

…

…

…

…

Wait a minute. You’re still here?

Okay, I’m a bit surprised you didn’t bail on me, but since you haven’t run screaming from the blog yet, I’ll go ahead and tell you one thing I did like about the show. I’d never before thought of a voice as an instrument. But when I heard people like Chris Daughtry, the dude named Cook who rocked out a version of a Mariah Carey song, and my all-time American Idol favorite—Elliott Yamin—I understood for the first time that a voice could be an instrument just as much as a flute, a tuba, or the cowbell (you knew I had to include that, right?).

The Instrument at Work

So if we’re considering the voice an instrument, how about the instrument on Brian Johnson*? That voice of his is a lethal weapon, a strident, screechy, volcanic instrument. And in “Back in Black,” that instrument is as sharp as a gleaming scalpel and as powerful as a six-year-old’s breath after a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. Johnson owns “Back in Black,” and even if he sang it a cappella, I’d listen to him belt it out with a stupefied grin on my face.

 

2. The Beginning of the Second Verse

Before I tell you why I love it, why don’t you check out the words themselves…

Back in the back

Of a Cadillac

Number one with a bullet, I’m a power pack

You hear the rhythm? The cadence? Do you feel the internal vortex the words themselves create? Many songs fall apart after the first sounding of the chorus. Not “Back in Black.” No, what the rhythms and the words at the beginning of the second verse do is herald in an even stronger phase of the song. A “You think that was great? Well, just wait for this…” attitude that proves more than mere bravado; it’s a promise that AC/DC makes good on and then some. Which brings me to…

 

3. “It’s all about the story”

The above quote is one I’ve heard my main editor, the incredible Don D’Auria of Samhain Horror, utter often. It’s a mantra I happen to agree with—everything a writer does, be it characterization, word choice, tone, pace, structure, time expansion, symbolism, foreshadowing…whatever—every single word must serve the story. It’s that way in fiction, it’s that way in television, it’s that way in movies.

And it’s that way in music.

Don D’Auria: Fabulous Editor and Former Bassist for the Turkish Speed Metal Band CANAVAR

No, I’m not suggesting that “Back in Black” tells some amazing story in the traditional, literary sense because not all songs aspire to become short stories or masterpieces of flash fiction. But a song is like a story in the sense that every note from Angus Young’s blazing guitar, every single drum beat, every single pause, every single everything in a song needs to serve that song. And in “Back in Black” it does. And in some magical way, that unity of effect (to quote Poe) makes the song universal.

I’d never claim to be a music expert; my wife, however, is. And though she can’t stand hard rock (yep, I married her anyway), she loves “Back in Black.” Perhaps even m0re tellingly, my two-year-old daughter clamors for it every time we get in the van. Does that make me an irresponsible parent? Perhaps. But I can tell you one thing: My kids and I rock out whenever “Back in Black” comes on.

So in case you have a hankering for it, here’s the brilliant piece of music about which I just wrote over 700 words.

*Get your minds out of the gutter!

Another Awesome Singer: Elliott Yamin

Oh, and in case you haven’t checked out my new serial novel SAVAGE SPECIES, you can get the first installment for free right here (NIGHT TERRORS), the second installment (THE CHILDREN) for a buck fifty here, and the third part (DARK ZONE) here for $1.05. That’s over three hundred pages of rip-roaring horror for $2.55. Not bad, huh?

Now go order my books and jam to some AC/DC.

Unleashed!

 

DARK ZONE is here!

Hey, Friends. Shortish post today because…well, because I’m itching to write. Is that okay? I mean, it’s sort of a good thing, isn’t it?

Okay. Today marks the release of the third installment of my new serial novel SAVAGE SPECIES. This part is called DARK ZONE, partially because it takes place completely underground, but also because of what’s happening to some of the characters. You see…they’re changing. Some of them for the better, but some of them in frightening and appalling ways. This section is more character-driven than the first two sections (though I’d argue all my stuff is character-driven), so if you’re anxious to learn more about Charly, Sam, and the rest, you’re going to eat this up.

Subterranean Terror

Here’s where you can purchase DARK ZONE for a measly buck and a nickel. Elsewhere you’ll find DARK ZONE for a buck fifty (which is still pretty measly, considering what you get for that loot).

So climb on board with the free first installment NIGHT TERRORS if you haven’t yet. Then check out Part Two: THE CHILDREN. And once you’ve knocked those novella-sized installments out, you can descend underground with the monsters in DARK ZONE. You fans of the films THE DESCENT and ALIENS are really going to dig this part. I think the rest of you will too.

Take care, Friends. And savor the light.