Darrell Case's Blog, page 2
June 15, 2019
Writers are readers
Do you desire to write? To wave a world where readers can visit and forget their troubles if only for a short time? Then read and read and read.
I have a friend who has spoken several times of the book he is going to write. Yet by his own admission, he doesn’t read. In fact, he finds it difficult to read. Unfortunately, I fear he will never write the book he desires to pen. Writing a book fiction or nonfiction is a very difficult challenge. Some start and never finish while others never began, but speak of their aspirations.
In a recent interview I was asks for suggestions for others who aspire to become an author. One suggestion I gave was to read, writers are readers. In reading, you can see how the writer kept the thread of story weaving throughout the novel. The author’s plot and character development. How the different elements the story come together to form the entire story and the satisfying ending. For me, I enjoy libraries. Small ones, big ones it makes no difference. At yard sales or in seconded handed stores I gravitate to books. To find a book by a favorite author or discover a new one is a tremendous treasure. Sometimes I will purchase a book just for the year of the copyright the older the better. To find what did this author say in bygone days.
Curling up in bed with a good book is magnificent. If the book is well written, I become lost in the story. Also I will remember this book long after I had closed the pages. Do you desire to write? To weave a world where readers can visit and forget their troubles if only for a short time? Then read and read and read.
I have a friend who has spoken several times of the book he is going to write. Yet by his own admission, he doesn’t read. In fact, he finds it difficult to read. Unfortunately, I fear he will never write the book he desires to pen. Writing a book fiction or nonfiction is a very difficult challenge. Some start and never finish while others never began, but speak of their aspirations.
In a recent interview I was asks for suggestions for others who aspire to become an author. One suggestion I gave was to read, writers are readers. In reading, you can see how the writer kept the thread of story weaving throughout the novel. The author’s plot and character development. How the different elements the story come together to form the entire story and the satisfying ending. For me, I enjoy libraries. Small ones, big ones it makes no difference. At yard sales or in seconded handed stores I gravitate to books. To find a book by a favorite author or discover a new one is a tremendous treasure. Sometimes I will purchase a book just for the year of the copyright the older the better. To find what did this author say in bygone days.
Curling up in bed with a good book is magnificent. If the book is well written, I become lost in the story. Also I will remember this book long after I had closed the pages. Do you desire to write? To weave a world where readers can visit and forget their troubles if only for a short time? Then read and read and read.
December 16, 2018
The life of a book
A book is an amazing thing. It can live many years, sometimes decades or centuries beyond the life of the author. If written for The Lord it becomes a vehicle for change in those we never meet. It may travel next door or around the world. Folks may argue and debate the qualities of becoming a Christian with another human. They can dispute its contents, however, they can try to rewrite it the printed word remains. It can become an ambassador passed from hand to hand.
At times it lays on a shelve untouched for years the message remains the same. A tract or pamphlet may be tossed away seldom is a book thrown out unless it's beyond repair. A well-written book can be a missionary for generations to come. A companion in time of loneliness or a help in need. A book can bring you closer to God. Fiction or nonfiction the Christian writer is a missionary a purveyor all that is good. An extension of themselves extolling the name of Christ. Toiling not for wealth or fame but furtherance the kingdom of God. And someday many years after the author is gone the book that he writes, will still speak for The Lord.
At times it lays on a shelve untouched for years the message remains the same. A tract or pamphlet may be tossed away seldom is a book thrown out unless it's beyond repair. A well-written book can be a missionary for generations to come. A companion in time of loneliness or a help in need. A book can bring you closer to God. Fiction or nonfiction the Christian writer is a missionary a purveyor all that is good. An extension of themselves extolling the name of Christ. Toiling not for wealth or fame but furtherance the kingdom of God. And someday many years after the author is gone the book that he writes, will still speak for The Lord.
November 18, 2018
I' m a country writer
I' m a country writer
After I’ve made that statement you might be inclined to think all I write about are country themes. I am in fact a novelist writing thrillers, mysteries are my major genres. https://www.darrellcase.com/ Creating characters out of nothing but my imagination. Yet farming is in my background and in my blood. I grew up on the farm with milk cows, chickens (actually hens) and pigs. In the spring, my father would plant corn or soybeans in the fields north and south of the house. Some of my favorite memories were accompanying him to the feed mill to have corn ground into feed for the hogs. We fed the cows ears of corn. My grandparents on both sides were farmers. I spent my younger years roaming the woods fishing and learning to love nature. Building forts and cabins out of discarded 10-gallon milk cans and pieces of tin. Later I learned the hard things like digging a post hole in August in clay soil. Chasing the cows out of the corn with stocks so high you went by the sound of their movement. Putting up hay when the bales weighted almost as much as I did. At least it seemed that way. Riding the school bus with a driver named Jolly. Remembering the last day of school one year when one of the boys rode his white horse. I had always dreamed of having a white horse or any horse for that matter. The closest I came was riding one of the cows out of the lot after the milking. It was not the same. I didn’t care for it and neither did she. Today my wife and I live on land my parents purchased in 1948. 40 acres for $1,000.00 nothing in modern day prices, but a hefty amount in those times. My office is located 200 feet from the house. Several years before Lowe’s install a full glass door overlooking the stream and woods South through the large windows is a young forest and to the west a path leading to the catfish pond. The writing studio is equipped with a heater, and an eclectic fireplace. A small refrigerator, microwave and of course a computer. Many mornings deer graze at the edge of the woods. At times squirrels eat from the bird feeders . In the summer hummingbirds, fly into the office through the open window. I interrupt my writing to open the door if they can't find their way out. The wind chimes, the sound of the birds are only distraction . Visitors are few unless you count the animals. Or my dog Abby, who lies at my feet as I write. So there you have it. I hope this explains the way I call myself a country writer.
After I’ve made that statement you might be inclined to think all I write about are country themes. I am in fact a novelist writing thrillers, mysteries are my major genres. https://www.darrellcase.com/ Creating characters out of nothing but my imagination. Yet farming is in my background and in my blood. I grew up on the farm with milk cows, chickens (actually hens) and pigs. In the spring, my father would plant corn or soybeans in the fields north and south of the house. Some of my favorite memories were accompanying him to the feed mill to have corn ground into feed for the hogs. We fed the cows ears of corn. My grandparents on both sides were farmers. I spent my younger years roaming the woods fishing and learning to love nature. Building forts and cabins out of discarded 10-gallon milk cans and pieces of tin. Later I learned the hard things like digging a post hole in August in clay soil. Chasing the cows out of the corn with stocks so high you went by the sound of their movement. Putting up hay when the bales weighted almost as much as I did. At least it seemed that way. Riding the school bus with a driver named Jolly. Remembering the last day of school one year when one of the boys rode his white horse. I had always dreamed of having a white horse or any horse for that matter. The closest I came was riding one of the cows out of the lot after the milking. It was not the same. I didn’t care for it and neither did she. Today my wife and I live on land my parents purchased in 1948. 40 acres for $1,000.00 nothing in modern day prices, but a hefty amount in those times. My office is located 200 feet from the house. Several years before Lowe’s install a full glass door overlooking the stream and woods South through the large windows is a young forest and to the west a path leading to the catfish pond. The writing studio is equipped with a heater, and an eclectic fireplace. A small refrigerator, microwave and of course a computer. Many mornings deer graze at the edge of the woods. At times squirrels eat from the bird feeders . In the summer hummingbirds, fly into the office through the open window. I interrupt my writing to open the door if they can't find their way out. The wind chimes, the sound of the birds are only distraction . Visitors are few unless you count the animals. Or my dog Abby, who lies at my feet as I write. So there you have it. I hope this explains the way I call myself a country writer.
October 18, 2018
Letter to my son
Today I give you away. Yet in giving you away, I gain more than I will ever lose. Today you will be wed to the love of your life.
I can’t tell you how proud I am of you. A young man starting out to build your own family and legacy. As I stand watching, you at the altar waiting for your bride memories flood my soul.
Fresh from the womb I held you in my hands so tiny so full of life. An extension of myself. You looked at me and a bond was formed a bond that cannot be broken a bond between a father and his son. These first few weeks of life, you woke in the middle of the night. Letting your mother sleep, I would tend to your needs. After which I stood by your crib in wonder watching you sleep. This tiny human being that harbored so much love.
Your first steps falling, getting right back up. You would take many falls in life. I wanted to shield you from them. From all the heartaches the pain. But I knew I couldn’t and if by some miracle I could, you would never grow into the man God desired for you to be. So I watched you stumble to make mistakes and learning. You became stronger because you overcame them. You learned to succeed through failures. When you discovered girls, I took you aside and taught you the gentleness and the strength of being a real man. To treat women as a wonderful gift from God. To always, show them honor and respect.
To keep yourself pure for that one special lady the one who you were destined to share your life. Tears come to my eyes as I remember the night you came home from a date weeping because your girlfriend broke up with you. The pain I felt in my heart for you wishing I could take it away but knowing I couldn’t. All I could do was put my arm around you and weep with you. Slowly, over the next few weeks, you recovered.
Than that day at church the morning you met that special someone. Over the next few months, you grew closer as you learned more about each other. You grew to trust, to love each other to laugh together.
The night you came home so excited. You woke us up and told your mother and I you had asked her to marry you. The way your face shined as you told us her answer.
Then the months of preparation for this wonderful day. This day you two will become one. One in body, mind and spirit. In the years to come you and your wife will have many problems. Never let them tear you apart but let them bind you together. Let The Lord guide you through all your heartaches and you will discover joy comes after the darkest night.
Share your love with those around you, but always reserve time for each other. Bring up your children in the nurture and admonition of The Lord. Teach them as I have, you the love of God.
One day when you and your wife are at the end of your lives, it is my prayer you will look back with no regrets but joy. May God bless you on this wonderful day and may you always remember your father loves you.
Dad
I can’t tell you how proud I am of you. A young man starting out to build your own family and legacy. As I stand watching, you at the altar waiting for your bride memories flood my soul.
Fresh from the womb I held you in my hands so tiny so full of life. An extension of myself. You looked at me and a bond was formed a bond that cannot be broken a bond between a father and his son. These first few weeks of life, you woke in the middle of the night. Letting your mother sleep, I would tend to your needs. After which I stood by your crib in wonder watching you sleep. This tiny human being that harbored so much love.
Your first steps falling, getting right back up. You would take many falls in life. I wanted to shield you from them. From all the heartaches the pain. But I knew I couldn’t and if by some miracle I could, you would never grow into the man God desired for you to be. So I watched you stumble to make mistakes and learning. You became stronger because you overcame them. You learned to succeed through failures. When you discovered girls, I took you aside and taught you the gentleness and the strength of being a real man. To treat women as a wonderful gift from God. To always, show them honor and respect.
To keep yourself pure for that one special lady the one who you were destined to share your life. Tears come to my eyes as I remember the night you came home from a date weeping because your girlfriend broke up with you. The pain I felt in my heart for you wishing I could take it away but knowing I couldn’t. All I could do was put my arm around you and weep with you. Slowly, over the next few weeks, you recovered.
Than that day at church the morning you met that special someone. Over the next few months, you grew closer as you learned more about each other. You grew to trust, to love each other to laugh together.
The night you came home so excited. You woke us up and told your mother and I you had asked her to marry you. The way your face shined as you told us her answer.
Then the months of preparation for this wonderful day. This day you two will become one. One in body, mind and spirit. In the years to come you and your wife will have many problems. Never let them tear you apart but let them bind you together. Let The Lord guide you through all your heartaches and you will discover joy comes after the darkest night.
Share your love with those around you, but always reserve time for each other. Bring up your children in the nurture and admonition of The Lord. Teach them as I have, you the love of God.
One day when you and your wife are at the end of your lives, it is my prayer you will look back with no regrets but joy. May God bless you on this wonderful day and may you always remember your father loves you.
Dad
February 21, 2015
Creating believable villains
We have all seen movies where the villain is unbelievable. Perhaps its poor acting ability. Or possibly the writer didn’t convey it correctly on the script. Sometimes it is the fault of the other actors. Maybe the director was inexperienced. Whatever the problem is the film is destroyed and the audience disappointed. Also the actors, director and the movie company receives a bad reputation.
As writers, we have a responsibility to our readers to make every character realistic. Therefore we must ask ourselves what makes him or her a bad person? How did they become this way. They didn’t come out of the womb as a villain. What kind of childhood did they have? Was there something in their upbringing that changed their life? Where they the bully or the bullied?
Do they have any redeeming qualities? Are they kind to children and animals? Are they married and have a loving family? Are their friends and neighbors shocked when their secret life is exposed?
If we as writers are able to create lifelike characters, we must ask ourselves these questions.
This kind of writing is not easy. It takes extra effort and time. It is, however, rewarding for us and our readers.
As writers, we have a responsibility to our readers to make every character realistic. Therefore we must ask ourselves what makes him or her a bad person? How did they become this way. They didn’t come out of the womb as a villain. What kind of childhood did they have? Was there something in their upbringing that changed their life? Where they the bully or the bullied?
Do they have any redeeming qualities? Are they kind to children and animals? Are they married and have a loving family? Are their friends and neighbors shocked when their secret life is exposed?
If we as writers are able to create lifelike characters, we must ask ourselves these questions.
This kind of writing is not easy. It takes extra effort and time. It is, however, rewarding for us and our readers.
January 8, 2015
Is it too late?
We have a tenancy to believe when a person reaches a certain age they are useless. They are no longer productive. Consequently in their field of expertise they should retire and let a younger person take their place.
Yet in the field of creativity, many have not reached their peak until older age. A good example is Frank McCourt, who passed in 2009. Frank didn’t publish his first book until he was 66 years old. After Angela’s Ashes, he went on to win the Pulitzer, National Book Critics Circle Award, and L.A. Times Book Award. “You might be poor, your shoes might be broken, but your mind is a palace.”
Can we imagine a world without Little House on the Prairie Yet Laura Ingalls Wilder was 64 when she put pen to paper. The result was Little House In The Big Woods. Her books are still in print and among some of best sellers in children’s books and been translated into forty languages. “The real things haven't changed. It is still best to be honest and truthful; to make the most of what we have; to be happy with simple pleasures; and have courage when things go wrong.”
Bram Stoker was 50 years old when he wrote Dracula. He went on to write seven more novels before his death at age of 64.
Mary Wesley didn’t publish her first novel until she was in her seventies. By the time of her death at 90 her books sells were in the millions.
“Looking back, I understand that I was teaching myself to write”.
I began my writing career in 1994. In the early days, I wrote a few magazine articles and devotions for a daily devotional. It was not until 2010 at age 65 I published my first book Live Life to the Fullest.
This year my seventh book is to be published and I will pass my seventieth birthday. Deadly Justice is a thriller in this novel an active serial killer is elected as president of the Untied States. Is this the end? Has my creativity come to an end? I think not. Later this year God willing I will start my eighth. I plan to write until The Lord takes me home.
Yet in the field of creativity, many have not reached their peak until older age. A good example is Frank McCourt, who passed in 2009. Frank didn’t publish his first book until he was 66 years old. After Angela’s Ashes, he went on to win the Pulitzer, National Book Critics Circle Award, and L.A. Times Book Award. “You might be poor, your shoes might be broken, but your mind is a palace.”
Can we imagine a world without Little House on the Prairie Yet Laura Ingalls Wilder was 64 when she put pen to paper. The result was Little House In The Big Woods. Her books are still in print and among some of best sellers in children’s books and been translated into forty languages. “The real things haven't changed. It is still best to be honest and truthful; to make the most of what we have; to be happy with simple pleasures; and have courage when things go wrong.”
Bram Stoker was 50 years old when he wrote Dracula. He went on to write seven more novels before his death at age of 64.
Mary Wesley didn’t publish her first novel until she was in her seventies. By the time of her death at 90 her books sells were in the millions.
“Looking back, I understand that I was teaching myself to write”.
I began my writing career in 1994. In the early days, I wrote a few magazine articles and devotions for a daily devotional. It was not until 2010 at age 65 I published my first book Live Life to the Fullest.
This year my seventh book is to be published and I will pass my seventieth birthday. Deadly Justice is a thriller in this novel an active serial killer is elected as president of the Untied States. Is this the end? Has my creativity come to an end? I think not. Later this year God willing I will start my eighth. I plan to write until The Lord takes me home.
September 5, 2014
Paper dolls
Paper dolls
Remember when you, your sister, or a friend played with paper dolls. Their clothes changed depending on the task or activity. However, their expression always remained the same. They were always happy, smiling no matter what the circumstances. They were never worried, sad or fearful. They were fun to play with. No sorrow affected them. No tragedy touched them. You could leave a paper doll for a day, a month or a year. When you decided to play with them, again they always had the same expression.
Sometimes we as writers have a problem creating believable characters. The ones creative in our writing can be paper dolls or cardboard character. Having no depth no real feelings. A person’s childhood colors how they react to a situation. Past failures made them cautious of making decisions. They ache for love yet are fearful of rejection. Are they driven by a desire for wealth or power? How does this affect their family life? Are they addicted to drugs and long to be free? Are they hiding something in their past, terrified this indiscretion will be exposed. Do they weep in the middle of the night when no one hears. If they are fired, lose a child or go through a divorce do they react with the same feelings as your next-door neighbor. As you write, do their emotions touch you? Do tears come to your eyes as they weep at the casket of their loved one? Do you rejoice with them as they are united in marriage? As they face danger, does their fear touch your heart? As you write an action scene does your heart beat faster? Do you feel the excitement of the chase? Are you the hunter or the hunted? Do you lose track of time? Do you get lost in the story?
What about the villain? What kind of person are they? What made them the person they are? What is behind their actions? Are they mentally unstable? If so, why? Can your reader hate them yet also feel sad for them? No person is born with hatred in their heart, something has happened to make your villain this way. Find out what it is. Even the villain is human and has those who love them.
If your characters live and breathe, weep and laugh your novel will come alive. If we as the authors do not feel the emotions of our characters neither will the reader.
Remember when you, your sister, or a friend played with paper dolls. Their clothes changed depending on the task or activity. However, their expression always remained the same. They were always happy, smiling no matter what the circumstances. They were never worried, sad or fearful. They were fun to play with. No sorrow affected them. No tragedy touched them. You could leave a paper doll for a day, a month or a year. When you decided to play with them, again they always had the same expression.
Sometimes we as writers have a problem creating believable characters. The ones creative in our writing can be paper dolls or cardboard character. Having no depth no real feelings. A person’s childhood colors how they react to a situation. Past failures made them cautious of making decisions. They ache for love yet are fearful of rejection. Are they driven by a desire for wealth or power? How does this affect their family life? Are they addicted to drugs and long to be free? Are they hiding something in their past, terrified this indiscretion will be exposed. Do they weep in the middle of the night when no one hears. If they are fired, lose a child or go through a divorce do they react with the same feelings as your next-door neighbor. As you write, do their emotions touch you? Do tears come to your eyes as they weep at the casket of their loved one? Do you rejoice with them as they are united in marriage? As they face danger, does their fear touch your heart? As you write an action scene does your heart beat faster? Do you feel the excitement of the chase? Are you the hunter or the hunted? Do you lose track of time? Do you get lost in the story?
What about the villain? What kind of person are they? What made them the person they are? What is behind their actions? Are they mentally unstable? If so, why? Can your reader hate them yet also feel sad for them? No person is born with hatred in their heart, something has happened to make your villain this way. Find out what it is. Even the villain is human and has those who love them.
If your characters live and breathe, weep and laugh your novel will come alive. If we as the authors do not feel the emotions of our characters neither will the reader.
October 25, 2013
The thread that runs so true
Some of the best novels I read were confusing in the beginning. They seemed to be disjointed. They started in different locations perhaps years or generations apart. The characters appeared to have no relationship to each other. If this is a new author or an unfamiliar one you may be tempted to put the book aside. Yet you persist. You wade through the pages wondering where the author is going. What was the writer thinking as he or she wrote this narrative’
It may be on page 50 or 100 you start to see a coalition in the parts of the novel that before appear to have no connection. Now the author weaves together the different threads until they become one.
As the story nears a conclusion it becomes clearer and more evident what was thought to be rambling was the true story in separate parts. All the threads are now one and stronger and perceptible.
The author like an artist paints the picture with assorted colors looking as if they are no part of the whole painting. Yet as with the artist when the book is complete it becomes a representation of what the writer saw in his or her mind in the beginning.
As authors we must keep in mind the true thread of the story. There are plots and subplots. Various threads run throughout the novel. However we hold them in our hands weaving them into the one true thread and with this we tell the story.
It may be on page 50 or 100 you start to see a coalition in the parts of the novel that before appear to have no connection. Now the author weaves together the different threads until they become one.
As the story nears a conclusion it becomes clearer and more evident what was thought to be rambling was the true story in separate parts. All the threads are now one and stronger and perceptible.
The author like an artist paints the picture with assorted colors looking as if they are no part of the whole painting. Yet as with the artist when the book is complete it becomes a representation of what the writer saw in his or her mind in the beginning.
As authors we must keep in mind the true thread of the story. There are plots and subplots. Various threads run throughout the novel. However we hold them in our hands weaving them into the one true thread and with this we tell the story.
