Roland Yeomans's Blog, page 63

Have We Lost the MEANING of MEMORIAL DAY?

We enjoy lovely videos of Memorial Day with graves draped in colorful American flags

as lovely music plays in the background.


We watch and listen to stirring Memorial Day parades, 


flags snapping in the breeze and bands playing stirringly as they march in unison.



People in our country's neighborhoods will be having the biggest and best barbecues, 


but the forgotten spirits of those slain upon a thousand distant foreign fields would take us to the cemeteries on Memorial Day.


Would they tell us that we could eat all the barbecue we want on the Fourth of July 


and to just murmur a small thanks over their graves today?


No one sets out to be a hero, and certainly no one wants to die a bloody, violent death.



But thousands upon thousands found themselves in terrible situations where they needed a hero, 


so that is what they became.

They died so that we would have a chance to live as best we could.


 We couldn’t enjoy sun-drenched summer days like today without their sacrifice.

Living in the world today is a challenge unlike one that has ever been seen in the past. 


But as thousands rose to the occasion when all seemed dark, we, too, can rise to tackle the obstacles facing us.


Yes, today is a day where we mourn the loss of precious lives and innocence.
  

But today is also a day where we celebrate the victory of the human spirit over darkness ...

and this gives us hope.

FOR MEMORIAL DAY_THE DOG WHO COULD FLY

http://www.amazon.com/Dog-Who-Could-Fly-Four-Legged-ebook/dp/B00GEEB7QM/
Czech airman Robert Bozdech found himself shot down with his wounded pilot in a grim no-man's land, 

between German and French forces at the beginning of World War II. 

It is January 1940 and the German army is shortly to begin its surge across the rest of continental Europe.

 In an abandoned farmhouse where Robert and his French pilot take shelter, 

he finds a starving puppy amid the rubble. 

Not weaned yet, the emaciated dog is able to suckle warmed-up chocolate from Robert's finger.

But a puppy left behind would make noise that would alert their Nazi hunters. 

Robert takes out his knife and lowers it to the puppy's throat. 

He looks into trusting brown eyes.  

He puts the knife away and the puppy inside his bomber jacket.


Along with the pilot, he and the puppy make the terrifying and arduous journey to safety.  

But that is just it: 

there is no safety with the Nazis butchering their way across all of France.

So Robert & the puppy, along with six other Czech airmen, 

eventually escape to Britain to serve in the Royal Air Force, 

along the way facing not only a saga of obstacles and dangers 

but the added challenge of smuggling along a dog Robert names Ant ... 

later changing it to Antis for a reason I leave for you to find out.

 Long before Robert and his mates are welcomed into the RAF, Antis wins Robert's heart. 

His loyalty, courage, and intelligence, even as a puppy, 

create a bond of love, one that survives some of the most challenging circumstances.


 Antis was awarded the Dickin Medal, the animal equivalent to the Victoria Cross
Before France capitulates, Robert returns to fly with the French Air Force 

in a last-ditch effort to slow the advance of the Germans, joined by Antis. 

(Later Antis would fly with Robert in the RAF.)

"It seemed almost the most natural thing ... for Ant to leap onto the wing of the aircraft and climb in beside him ... 

The perils of the mission didn't seem to worry him ... His ears pricked up a little as the punching percussions of machine-gun fire filled the gun turret,

his nose twitched at the thick cordite fumes that drifted all around him, 

but other than that he didn't ... stir from his laid-back position prone on the metal floor."


 During the course of the war, Antis saves lives by hearing, and warning his master of, 

the approach of German bombers long before they could be detected by air defense. 

And after one horrific attack, 

he becomes a rescuer, sniffing out survivors in the rubble of a building.  

Even being buried by a falling wall could not stop the bleeding, crawling Antis 

from digging out his last rescue: 

a young girl who would have died but for Antis.

You will laugh, sigh, cry, and ultimately cheer this warm loving story torn from the bloody history of WWII.


You will be cheered by the ingenuity and never-say-die spirit of both man and dog.  
I am currently listening to the audio version of this wonderful book.

To give equal time to kittens:

COVID-19 is a Harsh Mistress

Weekends nearly do me in these days.  Sunday I worked from 8 A.M. to 5 A.M. the following day!

And words tend to dry up when writing at 5 A.M.

On Mother's Day, I was going to post on 
singular mothers with sharp edges, but blood runs kept me from doing that.

And Midnight and I slept most of Monday





But I did awaken to find that somehow over the weekend, I had sold 64 copies of my 3 Native American audio books!

A nice surprise, right?
Another one is this riveting Netflix seriesI discovered.

You might try and check it out.

What have all of you been doing these past days?

ACROSS THE OCEAN, INTO THE SEA_IWSG post

“A single event can awaken within us a stranger totally unknown to us. 

To live is to be slowly born.”
― Antoine de Saint-Exuper 


Image by Dark Work 

With COVID-19, doctors have no textbook from which to judge their treatments. 
It is a novel virus with no proven course of treatment.

Authors know all about motivation. 

 FOLLOW THE MONEY does it for me with the search for treatments to this virus.

Hydroxychloroquine has shown promising results worldwide 

though it seems the WHO and the CDC are downplaying it.


 You know, those organizations that parroted China's initial assurances 
that there was no human to human transmissions and air flights with the confined air space and contaminated arm rests were perfectly safe.
(While China's own doctors were sounding the alarm at the expense of freedom and life.)
The very people who at first said mask wearing and social distancing were not necessary. 

  Yeah, those people
Hydroxychloroquine is a proven generic drug.  
Pharmaceutical companies could not charge large dollars for it.
Remdesivir failed as a drug for Ebola and hepatitis.  
In recent studies, the placebo's effective response was close to the drug itself.
But pharmaceutical companies could charge large dollars for it.
Guess who paid for those discrediting studies?

Remember JAWS?
When the mayor was more concernedwith beach money than public safety?

Despite the horrific examples of China, Italy, Spain, the UK, Seattle and New York --
 all prior to the Mardi Gras parades...
the mayor and the city fathers refused to close them down.
New Orleans became a new epicenter for COVID-19.
Lake Charles kept its Mardi Gras parades and our parish has the highest death totals for SW Louisiana. 
All of which has me delivering rare blood and Convalescent Plasma 
down germ-infested hospital halls and past coughing patients and staff.

WHY AM I MENTIONING THIS IN A WRITERS BLOG HOP?
We as authors are witnessing a once in a generation worldwide crucible.
 Crucible?
A situation of severe trial,
in which different elements interact, leading to the creation of something new.

You will never get a better chance to view humanity at its worst and its best.
Ask questions of what you see locally, nationally, and world wide.

WHY DOES THE WORLD SEEM BLIND TO ITS DOUBLE STANDARDS?

HOW DOES OUR ISOLATION AFFECT HOW WE VIEW THE WORLD?

WHAT ARE WE HERE FOR?

A QUESTION FOR YOU:

ARE YOU GETTING ANY WRITING DONE?
Me, not so much.

My own Matrix has been one of weariness.  
Sunday I did blood runs from 6 A.M. to a quarter past midnight.
Ouch!

I slept most of Monday.

I am still writing NIGHT SEASONS set in 1947 with an Asian ghost ship,
murderous Swiss bankers who want to keep the Nazi war loot in their vaults for themselves,
and murder, mystery, and mayhem in Vienna with the supernatural filming of THE THIRD MAN with Jimmy Stewart 
instead of Joseph Cotton in the lead.
(The director actually wanted Stewart for the part by the way.)

I am trying to get out a paperback edition of THE RIVAL
where all the profits from the print, Kindle, and Audio versions
will go the Covid-19 Relief Fund set up by the Salvation Army.
So, my friends, what are you doing these unsettling days?

Oh, Midnight's T-Shirt came in today, though I think he has a feline take on social distancing!

LIVE AS IF YOU WERE KISSING LIFE FOR THE LAST TIME

“At the end of the day, let there be  no excuses,  no explanations,  no regrets.”
― Steve Maraboli



I NHALE THE FUTURE; EXHALE THE PAST
The joy of being able to breathe deeply and often most of us take for granted.  Not so much anymore, right?
I had double pneumonia 3 times as a child in Detroit.  Moving with my parents to Louisiana probably saved my life.
Take in a deep breath now and let it out slowly.  Covid-19 may take that away from you.
Enjoy the ability while you can.




GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD
"There are people in the world so hungry, that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread.”  - Mark Twain
If the full page ad Tyson ran in THE NEW YORK TIMES Sunday is any indication, Americans may become like those people.
As famines of "biblical proportions" loom, the UN Security Council urged its members to "act fast."
I hope you have prepared your pantry for hard times.



AULD LANG SINGE 
"Being taken for granted is an unpleasant but sincere form of praise, don't you know? 
Ironically, the more reliable you are, and the less you complain, the more likely you are to be taken for granted."   - Mark Twain
How many good friends have you allowed life to tug from your everyday thoughts?
How hard would it hit you if you heard they were dying in a hospital with Covid-19 and you could not even visit them for a last goodbye due to regulations?




I CAN'T FEEL YOU
  “There’s power in the touch of another person’s hand. We acknowledge it in little ways, all the time. 
There’s a reason human beings shake hands, hold hands, slap hands, bump hands. 
 It comes from our very earliest memories, when we all come into the world blinded by light and color. 
And what changes that first horror, that original state of terror? 
  The touch of another person’s hands. 
Hands that wrap us in warmth, that hold us close. 
Hands that guide us to shelter, to comfort, to food. 
Hands that hold and touch and reassure us through our very first crisis, and guide us into our very first shelter from pain. 
The first thing we ever learn is that the touch of someone else’s hand can ease pain and make things better."  - Jim Butcher
Now, Covid-19 has taken that balm of touch from everyday life.
When, if ever, will it return?


I keep Survivor Duck on my mantel to remind me that laughter and life can survive even the strongest storms ... 

like this little rubber duck survived Katrina and waited for me to come back to the rear door of our battered blood center.

Appreciate the little things you have before they become large by their absence.

Stay Well, my friends ... Roland

INSECURITY in this TIME OF PLAGUE

We never saw this coming, did we?
This is something completelynew for us.
We have to become our ownIndiana Jonesmaking it as we go along.
Insecure is the least of whatwe feel, right?  

INSECURITY 
doesn't feel GOOD.
Out of the discomfort of it,you may strive to growso that you do not feel it
as deeply.



Life is a balancing act.

Our dreams always seem to be in
danger of toppling us over

when Life insists on tugging
on the tight-rope.


INSECURITY is that inner demonic voice that murmurs you are not good enough.

So you strive to grow in your ability to put wisdom in your actions

to  put prose on paper, 
to see beneath the masks that all people wear, 
to view life from a perspective that will make the commonplace the magic that it truly is.

Insecurity can spark growth. 
Insecurity can prompt our desire for self-improvement. 
It can jolt us into action and push us toward higher goals.  
Insecurity is only harmful when we compare our weakest link to someone's strongest link.

 It’s time to tell the truth
 so that everyone can relax a bit and know they’re not alone in wondering if they’re okay. 

  You’re not flawed or defective. 

You’re experiencing this thing we call Life. 
There will be times you’ll feel on top of the world and times you’ll doubt your worth. 

This is normal. 
It’s a part of our forward movement as we take stock of who we are, in transit to who we’re becoming. 

How is your journey  with INSECURITY coming along?

WHAT DO WE LEAVE IN?

We all know what to leave out:
1.) It’s Open Season on anything ending in –ly.

2.) Clunky sentences and long paragraphs that dull the readers’ mind and attention-span.

3.) Any word that you wouldn’t pay a quarter to keep in your manuscript. Ernest Hemingway learned to write lean when a foreign correspondent. EVERY WORD cost his employers money.

Elmore Leonard suggests: “Leave out the boring stuff.”

In reverse logic: 

we leave in the riveting stuff:

1.) Primal is riveting

THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA is riveting. 

Why? 

Because the fish means more to the old man than just something to keep hunger at bay. Catching the fish would say to those who jeer at him that he is not old and useless, 

that he is still a man.

2.) Sex is riveting

Without it, the species would end. 

 But we don’t live for abstractions. We live for attractions. 

Flirting is only verbal fondling. 

The act doesn’t have to be literally on the page, blow by blow. Still, the sparks should be seen.

3.) Danger is riveting

But only if we care for the characters at risk. 

And the danger must flow out of the natural development of the narrative – not just be thrown in for spice out of nowhere.

4.) Empathy is magnetic

We care for characters to whom we can relate. 

So we leave in those prose strokes that resonate with the pains, the dreams, the struggles of our readers – 

the search for love, the endurance of loneliness, the tragedy of being misunderstood.

5.) Great dialogue sparkles

No clichés – even for teenagers, for clichés or even modern slang has a very short shelf-life.
 
Think of your favorite movies.
 
Each one had snippets of dialogue that had you repeating them to your friends. 

Try to make your novel someone’s favorite in a like manner.

6.) Poetry in prose

Ernest Hemingway said the secret to writing great novels was that they contained poetry in prose.

Make each first sentence on a page memorable by use of metaphor, dialogue, or simply tilting an image on its ear.

Each of us must do that in our way. Read a page of Hemingway or Zelazny at random to see how they did it.

“She gave him a look that should have left bruises.”
 
“The sea was harsher than granite.”

*) I hope this has helped in some small way. Roland

Here is the video of Adiemus which Victor hears within his mind as he struggles to make it through a mystic ordeal for the sake of innocents depending upon him in END OF DAYS:

How to WOW the Reader With YOUR BOOK

We all want to write a best-seller.  Not for fame nor for fortune.  

Just to be able to support ourselves living out our dream.

But how to do that?


I could date Gal Gadot, of course, but I think her husband might object.  

And he looks mean! 



No.  

We will have to do it the old-fashioned way: by using the tools at hand the best way we know how.

HOW TO ULYSSES YOUR WAY  TO NOVEL SUCCESS

1.) SUCKER PUNCH YOUR READER WITH THE FIRST SENTENCE
The thinking behind the studio's thinking on making movie trailers of late is 

TO MAKE IT SO COMPELLING THAT PEOPLE HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO BUY A TICKET 

no matter what the critics say.


The first sentence to my story in TALES TO BE TOLD AT MIDNIGHT is

"The rape had been the best thing to have happened to her."

How could you not want to read on?  

And remember the FIRST LOOK option on Amazon will hook your reader 

if you just set the bait correctly.



2.) LEARN FROM THE MOST POPULAR GIRL IN HIGH SCHOOL
BE FAST.  

Not free.  People value what they pay for.

But put out ... as quickly as you can with quality one after another.  

 You want to have other books to offer should lightning strike and you gain a fan.

Which leads me into the next point:




3.) BRAND YOURSELF WITH A SERIES

It won't hurt much, 

but it will give a new fan certainty 

of enjoying more adventures with the characters she or he has grown to love.

Readers who like one novel will confidently buy the next.

And the series name will draw the eye of past readers browsing thumbnails of your book covers.

Which leads me to my next point:



4.) LET YOUR TITLE BE LIKE THE SKIRTS OF THAT POPULAR GIRL
BE SHORT
Choose a brief emotive title. Pack it with meaning, menace and drama.

 Why short? 

Your cover will shrink to a fingernail on Kindle and other mobile devices. 

So make it legible!

James Patterson uses such titles: 

ZOO, THE FIRE, WITCH & WIZARD, THE QUICKIE

Which, of course, leads me to the next point as well


  
4.) ATTENTION SPANS HAVE CHANGED
TV sound bites, Twitter feeds, Buzz feeds, Facebook posts ...

All of them have conditioned those who still read to bore easily.

A bored reader is more dangerous to us than any lion, for you will lose them as customers.

Keep your sentences as short as models' skirts.

James Patterson is the expert here. 

His sentences average just six words. 

His paragraphs are typically no longer than five lines and often just one line.

Tell your story your way, but if it is to make an impact there is a model to follow.



 5.) WE ARE A LONELY SOCIETY 
Give your MC a foil character with whom to talk ... even if it is only the moon.

Even Tom Hanks had Wilson, the basketball, 

with whom to share his innermost thoughts and fears on that island.

Conversations with the buddy character can introduce conflict to keep a scene alive, 

give the main character a plausible sounding board for their woes and triumphs, 

and also prompt the protagonist to reveal  information.

 Foil characters also furnish sub-plots. 

Get them into troubles of their own. Make them victims.
  
Use a foil as a series character in your every novel as I do with Mark Twain 

in my NOT-SO-INNOCENTS series and in my Egyptian Victorian fantasies.



6.) A PLOT WORTHY OF A MOVIE


Dueling vampire empires, alien evil clashing with ancient darkness, 

Mark Twain, Oscar Wilde, Nikola Tesla -- 

all worrying less about saving the world than 

saving their friend who is married to a demon-empress,

poised to set all the world ablaze with her dark ambition.

Outlandish but so was SHE and LORD OF THE RINGS.

You must strive to craft a riveting plot worthy of your reader.



7.) WATER COOLER DIALOGUE
My blood center still has a water cooler and coffee maker where workers chat a bit during the day.

Work to have your dialogue be quoted at the water cooler of today's culture:

Twitter, Facebook, Buzz Feeds, personal blogs.

There is a reason NIKE sells ball caps and T-shirts with their logo.

Be as smart as NIKE, have your fans advertise for you.

I HOPE THIS HELPS  IN SOME SMALL WAY,  ROLAND

The YEOMANS BRAND

“Style is knowing who you are,  what you want to say,  and not giving a damn.” - Gore Vidal

Like you, I have a brand.
Like you, I think I know what it is.
Like you, I am wrong.


Most authors do not know what personal branding is.  
We see big corporations and celebrities botch it all the time. 
We reach out and almost touch the fabric of what others see in our stories, but we never quite make it.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1519375794/
Your brand isn’t your book cover,
 and it isn’t what you say about yourself. 
Your brand is your characters' values and how they act on those valueson every page. 

What do you think your brand is? 

CHARACTER

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0670894567/

"Oh, Great Spirit, whose voice I hear  in the winds,  Whose breath gives life to the world,  hear me, 
I come to you as one of your many children, 
I am small and weak,  I need your strength and wisdom. 
May I walk in beauty
Make my eyes ever behold  the red and purple sunset.
Make my hands respect the things  you have made
And my ears sharp to your voice.
  Make me wise  so that I may know the things  you have taught your children.  The lessons you have written  in every leaf and rock,
Make me strong! 
Not to be superior to my brothers,  but to fight my greatest enemy... myself 
Make me ever ready to come to you  with straight eyes,
 So that when life fades  as the fading sunset,
My spirit may come to you  without shame."
Translated by Chief Yellow Lark - 1887


"The true measure  of character  is the smile on a friend's face  when the person  approaches."  - Ingrid Durtz


WHAT ISCHARACTERTO YOU?


https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E2RXHT8/
A deep rumbling voice awakened me, "Hey, kid. Kid! Roland!"
 Midnight growled his "Not another ghost" growl ...

which was rather funny since he spends most of the time I am gone curled up on the lap of the ghost of Mark Twain.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1580892736/
Though he maddens Midnight by calling him Bambino.

I pried open my eyes. And shot right up.

John D. MacDonald.

Sitting in his ghost chair, spectral smoke trailing up from his pipe into the mists of the night.

"You underlined passages in my book you were reading before you fell asleep tonight. It called out to me in the ShadowLands."

"You're a master, sir. I learn so much from your prose even after re-reading it for the tenth time."

His eyes gazed out over my shoulder to realms he looked like he wanted to forget but couldn't.

"I feel pretty much forgotten, son."

"Not to me, sir."




He nodded. "And because of that I wanted to drop by personally and give you a few pointers on how to write. I wanted you to learn the truth behind my words."

"What truth, sir?" 

"Integrity. 


Integrity is not a conditional word. It doesn't blow in the wind or change with the weather. It is your inner image of yourself,

and if you look in there and see a man who won't cheat, then you know you never will. Integrity is not a search for the rewards of integrity.

Maybe all you ever get for it is the largest kick in the ass the world can provide. It is not supposed to be a productive asset.”

I whispered, "That's what you wrote in THE TURQUOISE LAMENT."


He nodded. "But nonetheless true. At times it seems as if arranging to have no commitment of any kind to anyone would be a special freedom.

But in fact the whole idea works in reverse. The most deadly commitment of all is to be committed only to one's self. Some come to realize this only after they are in the nursing home.”

He sighed. "There are people who try to look as if they are doing a good and thorough job, and then there are the people who actually damn well do it, for its own sake. You are a writer of the later sort.”

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "The only thing in the world worth a damn is the strange, touching, pathetic, awesome nobility of the individual human spirit."

He put them back on and nudged them up his nose. "I know just enough about myself to know I cannot settle for one of those simplifications which indignant people seize upon to make understandable a world too complex for their comprehension.

Astrology, health food, flag waving, bible thumping, Zen, nudism, nihilism --

all of these are grotesque simplifications which small dreary people adopt in the hope of thereby finding The Answer,

because the very concept that maybe there is no answer, never has been, never will be, terrifies them."

I said softly, "I think there is some kind of divine order in the universe. Every leaf on every tree in the world is unique.

As far as we can see, there are other galaxies, all slowly spinning, numerous as the leaves in the forest.

In an infinite number of planets, there has to be an infinite number with life forms on them. Maybe this planet is one of the discarded mistakes. Maybe it's one of the victories. We'll never know."

MacDonald husked, "Not on your side of the grave."



He blew out his cheeks. "But I came here to talk on how to write better not to speak of the damned. Speaking of which, I wrote THE DAMNED because I knew the locale.

I was interested in what would happen if a lot of people got jammed in the crossing. I knew a lot of things would happen."

He smiled crooked, "And that, son, is the definition of a story."

His smile dropped from his lips like the weight of sin. "I found living it in the ShadowLands is the definition of Hell."

He looked back to me. "Now, for writing characters:

We're all children. We invent the adult facade and don it and try to keep the buttons and the medals polished.

We're all trying to give such a good imitation of being an adult that the real adults in the world won't catch on.

Each of us takes up the shticks that compose the adult image we seek."

He brooded a look at me. "Which leads me to what character should drive the actions of your novel. I think that most of us have a greater liking for strong and solid people than we have for the wimps of the world.

With strong people you can tell where you stand. Nobody, of course, is too strong never to be broken.

And that is my protagonist's, Travis McGee, forte, helping the strong broken ones mend."

He put out a forefinger.

"One, people want to spend time reading about someone they would like to be, doing the things they would love to do if they could.

And getting away with it.

No one wants to pay to be depressed and defeated, Roland. That comes for free in life."

He put out a second finger. "Two, writing is an adventure in and of itself:

I remember when I first started out --

I had four months of terminal leave pay at lieutenant colonel rates starting in September of 1945, ending in January 1946.

I wrote eight hundred thousand words of short stories in those four months, tried to keep thirty of them in the mail at all times, slept about six hours a night and lost twenty pounds.

I finally had to break down and take a job, but then the stories began to sell. I was sustained by a kind of stubborn arrogance.

Those bastards out there had bought one story “Interlude in India,”

and I was going to force them to buy more by making every one of them better than the previous one. I had the nerves of a gambler and an understanding wife."

He looked off into the shadows. "Mostly, an understanding wife."

He turned to me. "I can't find her in the ShadowLands, Roland. And it's killing me."

I cleared my closing throat. "I'll ask Samuel McCord ...."

He shook his head. "He's already tried, son. No luck."

He sniffed sharp and drew in a breath. "Where was I? Oh, yes."


He stuck out a third finger. "Three, series and first-person narrative. You're doing that with your Sam McCord, Victor Standish, and Dark Hollywood series.

Remember a series is only confining if you let it be so. If your imagination is large scope so will be your series.

As for first person narrative -

First-person fiction is restrictive only in that you can’t cheat. The viewpoint must be maintained with flawless precision.

You can’t get into anyone else’s head. The whole world is colored by the prejudices and ignorances of your hero.

Remember the child in your hero.

Adult pretenses are never a perfect fit for the child underneath,

and when there is the presentiment of death, like a hard black light making panther eyes glow in the back of the cave,

the cry is, "Mommy, mommy, mommy, it's so dark out there, so dark and so forever."

He rose and slapped his upper thighs, "If you forget what I've just said, remember this --

If you want to write, you write.

Unlike with brain surgery, the only way to learn to write is by writing. Take Stephen King --


Stephen King always wanted to write and so he writes --

books and fragments and poems and essays and other unclassifiable things, most of them too wretched to ever be published.

Because that is the way it is done.

Because there is no other way to do it. Not one other way.

Compulsive diligence is almost enough. But not quite.

You have to have a taste for words. Gluttony. You have to want to roll in them. You have to read millions of them written by other people.

You read everything with grinding envy or a weary contempt.

You save the most contempt for the people who conceal ineptitude with long words, Germanic sentence structure, obtrusive symbols, and no sense of story, pace, or character.

Then you have to start knowing yourself so well that you begin to know other people. A piece of us is in every person we can ever meet.

Okay, then. Stupendous diligence, plus word-love, plus empathy, and out of that can come, painfully, some objectivity.

Never total objectivity.

It comes so painfully and so slowly.

You send books out into the world and it is very hard to shuck them out of the spirit.

They are tangled children, trying to make their way in spite of the handicaps you have imposed on them.

I would give a pretty penny to get them all back home and take one last good swing at every one of them. Page by page. Digging and cleaning, brushing and furbishing. Tidying up.

Are you and I all together so far?

Diligence, word-lust, empathy equal growing objectivity and then what?
Story.


Story. Dammit, story!

Story is something happening to someone you have been led to care about.

It can happen in any dimension -physical, mental, spiritual – and in combinations of those dimensions.

Without author intrusion.

Author intrusion is: ‘My God, Mama, look how nice I’m writing!’

Another kind of intrusion is a grotesquerie. Here is one of my favourites, culled from a Big Best Seller of yesteryear: ‘His eyes slid down the front of her dress.’

Author intrusion is a phrase so inept the reader suddenly realizes he is reading, and he backs out of the story. He is shocked back out of the story.

Another author intrusion is the mini-lecture embedded in the story. This is one of my most grievous failings.

An image can be neatly done, be unexpected, and not break the spell. In a Stephen King story called ‘Trucks,’

Stephen King is writing about a tense scene of waiting in a truck shop, describing the people:

‘He was a salesman and he kept his display bag close to him, like a pet dog that had gone to sleep.’

I find that neat.

Nice. It looks so simple. Just like brain surgery. The knife has an edge. You hold it so. And cut.

The main thing is story.

One is led to care.

Note this. Two of the most difficult areas to write in are humour and the occult. In clumsy hands the humour turns to dirge and the occult turns funny.

But once you know how, you can write in any area.

Write to please yourself. I wrote to please myself. When that happens, you will like the work too."

His deep eyes locked onto mine. "Life is a coin, Roland. You can spend it any way you want. But you can only spend it once."

And with those words, he was gone. His wisdom stayed. I thought I'd pass it on.



Midnight just wants his undisturbed sleep back.
***
Here is a tune that John D. MacDonald likes: