Before This

There were ice ages.

Dinosaurs.

Neanderthals.

Bone and stone tools.

Woolly mammoths.

Saber tooth tigers.

Tribes.

Hunters and gatherers.

Simple farmers.

Rising religions.

Emerging civilizations.

Slavery.

Cities.

States.

 

Steel swords.

Castles and knights.

Powerful rulers.

Empires and kings.

Bows and arrows.

Wooden sailing ships.

Daring explorers.

Wars and victories.

Death and plagues.

Nations.

NASDAQ.

Repeating rifles.

Gunslingers.

Horse and buggies.

 

Covered bridges.

Joseph Horne’s.

Sears, Roebucks and company.

The Model T.

Mom and pop stores.

Five and dime stores.

Movie theaters.

Nuclear power.

Pizza joints.

Record players.

Cable TV.

Shopping malls.

Sock hops.

Howard Johnson’s.

FM radio.

Men on the moon.

VCRs.

CDs.

DVDs.

The Internet.

Satellite TV.

WalMart.

Cell phones.

Organic foods.

 

 

 

 

Bird by Bird: Book, Blurb & Collage

I think most writers I’ve encountered have discovered Bird by Bird. It’s a powerful book, and helpful to struggling new writers. I recommend it to other writers. It may not resonate with you, but give it a shot. You never know which book holds the key that helps you move forward, and if you dismiss them without reading them, you may never find your key.

Corey Truax's avatarCorey Truax

bird by bird, Anne Lamott.jpg

This is a quote collage I tossed together to highlight some of the content from the book.  Clicking the image will send you over to Flickr where you can view it in high-res.  This is free to share and use however you would like.

I finished reading Anne Lamott’s, Bird by Bird, a couple weeks ago and am happy to share it with all of you today.  This is a call-to-action book about writing that I would highly recommend.  It was suggested to me by someone here on the blog, but despite my best efforts, I couldn’t find the comment.  Regardless, it was a great suggestion (thank you nameless person!).

bird by bird.jpgIf you’re unfamiliar with Lamott’s voice and style, it’s witty and has some kick to it.  For me, that’s always a plus.  What she does amazingly well is talk from the heart about the struggles most writers face (more…

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The Pirates

I’m at a point in the novel, Long Summer (sequel to Returnee) where the pirates are about to enter.

Yes, this is science fiction. Yes, these are space pirates (cue dramatic music). Or cue a Monty Python moment.

I always like ‘fly in the ointment’ tales. That’s the pirates’ role in Long Summer. They’re naturally a plot trigger to cause the stories to bank sharply into another direction, bringing the three disparate story lines into contact with one another at last, thirty-five thousand words into the novel. Creating  the pirates enabled me to embark on my favorite fiction writing activity: making things up. In this case, I was given permission to make up the pirate ship and crew. Who are they, why are the pirates, where did they come from and how did they come to have this ship?

The ship is the CSC Narwhal. CSC is Castle Corp Security, a spin-off from the original Castle Corporation that dominates the Returnee series as one a major part of the setting. (The corporation is constantly restructuring, re-organizing, acquiring and divesting.) As Castle Corporation was originally an Anglo-American effort when they first formed on Earth (with roots in 3D printing, with specific focus on home security devices…from there to space), the company sometimes invokes its heritage when naming ships. This was strongly evidenced in the naming of the security ships (the preferred nomenclature over warship). I’d remembered Narwhal from my history lessons, so I looked up Narwhal and confirmed its role in England’s maritime history, confirming it was part of the Arctic Fleet. Two Brit submarines were then named the same, along with a US sub. So, sweet, that worked out.

(I had to refer back to my Returnee notes a little as I worked out that naming, confirming corporations and financial consortiums led the way into space. Governments had little to do with it.)

I then needed to further define my new vessel’s manning, which is complementary to its role. As a security vessel, Narwhal is small, with three squadrons of droid fighters. Why droid fighters? I started with manned weaponry and realized that robots dominate my future. It would be weird to have manned fighters. But humans maintain control….

Essentially, I evolved the Droid Commander. Droid Commanders remotely oversee the flying of four droid fighters simultaneously from pods on the Narwhal. Yes, we have the sophisticated technology to do that in my future. Likewise, Droid Techs remotely manage maintenance/software/hardware, keeping the fighters armed and flying, repairing them via nano-bots, droids and automation.

Each Narwhal squadron has three Droid Commanders, each flying four droid fighters. So each squadron is twelve fighters. Three squadrons, thirty-six fighters, nine each Droid Commanders and techs. A squadron commander coordinates their activities with the ship and mission briefs.

Narwhal is structured to run silent, fast, launching quick strikes and then bailing. Their defensive systems are lightweight and automated. They’re not going to bombard a planet or take on a battleship. They’re more likely to run escort and interdiction missions.

Once I had those things in place, what did I need for manning for the actual ship, the Narwhal? Well, again, it’s automated, and lightly manned. I ended up with three defensive coordinators. Commander, DO, pilots to fly it (in the event of worst case situations), navigator (overseeing the droids and systems), intel officer, techs to treat it.

Shuttles? Escape pods? Logistics? Medical? All done by droids, except I decided the three shuttles would have human pilots. Ten techs oversee droids that do the repairs.

So there it was, forty-seven humans crewing the Narwhal and its squadrons.

Since it’s going head to head with River Styx, the stasis pod ship, I went through the  same exercise for the Styx (which has only light defensive systems). Then I mentally plotted the sequence of events as I walked over here to write today. The twists arose on their own, pleasing and exciting me, further evolving my sketchy plot.

(Quite deliberately, because the pirates are out to disrupt corporate domination of space and human activities, Castle Corporation also owns the River Styx. The pirates love the irony of a ship they appropriated from the Castle Corporation, stretching the truth, as the Castle Corp had spun off the division that owns and operates Narwhal,  attacking another Castle Corp vessel.)

This summarizes my basic writing approach. I begin with a concept or a character. In this case, three ideas came together. That gives me a bare structure. As an analogy, if my novel is a car trip, I’m getting in and pointing the vehicle in the general direction of a horizon I see, with the vaguest idea of what’s over that horizon, and what’s between here and there. That works for each chapter, story line and character arc.

Reflecting on all of this today, I recognize how much my writing approach parallels my other methodologies. As a senior NCO in the USAF, I was always imposing and maintaining order and discipline, but also loved instilling vision in my people about how to improve ourselves and our operations. To do that, I’d simply seize a direction and go for it, correcting as I went. Likewise, in my last position as a data scientist with IBM, when given a challenge, I mentally played with it until something formed, and then I launched myself into it. And in my youth, when I was taking art classes, painting and drawing, sudden inspirations would seize and carry me.

The confrontation between River Styx and Narwhal awaits. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

The Cat Crew

The cat crew continues growing.

In the beginning…there was Quinn the Black Paw (a Quintessential cat), Lady and Scheckter. The latter two passed away. Arriving in that same period was Tucker, a tired, wounded and hungry black and white stray who exhibits some Maine Coon traits.

Meanwhile, Meep (aka, the Prince or the Little Price, the Orange Blade or Blade, Doppelganger or Doppel (because he so resembled a miniature version of Scheckter that we were sometimes confused)) is fed two or three times a day and given shelter. He is supposed to be Garfield (of course, other than being orange, he is not a Garfield) and belong to other people but they don’t let him into their home and he seems to prefer our company. He and Tucker have loud, angry clashes.

Living in the master bedroom and backyard (because he and Tucker have had a few skirmishes and are still adjusting) is Boo Radley, a big black cat with a small white cirrus cloud on his chest and belly, and no tail. Boo has behavior issues of his own. An older and intelligent fellow, he also has arthritis in one of his back legs.

Pepper is a brown and black calico. She’s lived next door to us for ten years. Yet, in 2015, she took up residence on our front porch, often staying there day into night into day, begging food whenever the op arises. She’s given the other cats’ leftovers.

That’s the primary stable of five. New to the program are Buddy and Princess.

Buddy lives across the street. A small, black, vocal and social male, he’s recently taken to begging food a few times a day. We accommodate him with kibble but more than anything else, Buddy just wants someone to talk to him, and pet and scratch him. So we do this.

Next and newest is a gorgeous little sweet gray and white kitty, Princess. Princess is supposed to own some people in the Ashlanders Apartment complex, located about a football throw away. But she started coming around with matted fur, begging for sustenance, and sigh, we could not say no.  Now she’s out there every morning in the 40 degree chill, and every night, at about seven PM, just as the sun descends.

So, as sevencatsandcounting would say, we’re taking care of seven cats in one way or another. Only three are ‘officially’ ours, but when a cat selects you to join their clowder, what choice exists? I have yet to learn how to gracefully abdicate that position.

Old Gangs

Found some of the old gang this week.

Well, one of one ‘old gangs’, this one from my early teen years. I’ve had many old gangs as I traveled the world in a twenty-one year military career, and a few other old gangs as I pursued civilian careers after my military retirement.

This old gang is one of my earliest, formed in formed in Penn Hills, outside of Pittsburgh, PA. We attended school together there at Washington Elementary School, Penn Junior, and John H. Linton, riding the bus, sitting in classrooms, playing baseball and football on fields and streets. I knew them from fifth grade through ninth, and then I left the area. Although I returned, they and I changed, and we never enjoyed the same dynamics and relationships.

I always held them as young people alongside my young self in my mind’s crawl spaces, like home decor that was once loved and used, now set aside, but saved, because someday, I’ll pull that out again. I have tools like that, too. I used to change my cars’ oil, spark plugs, etc, what we used to call ‘giving the car a tune-up.’ These chores had specialized tools. The Porsche used one tool for its oil filter, the Audi, Camaro, Firebird and BMW used other ones. Every time I bought a new previously owned car, I bought a new shop manual and the correct tools. And I never released them back to the wild.

Likewise, I have wires for everything computer and stereo. Printer parallel and serial cables, RCA plugs and jacks in full size and mini, adapters, splits, cable wires, and now, zip drives, mice, keyboards, and fire wires. I guess I’m a collector.

I’ve been looking for my old friends through my family connections, Facebook, Google and other search engines and social media. I wanted to know what each did with their existence, talents and skills, see what they’ve become, what they’ve experienced and accomplished. One finally turned up this week, through his father’s obituary. Astonishingly, that took me directly to my friend’s FB page.

I studied what was shared for a while, confirming it was him. He’d now fifty-nine, but I saw my childhood friend in the hold of his head and the gaze in his eyes. He’d once been a huge comedy fan, outgoing with his inner circle of friends but otherwise shy and withdrawn.

Then he got a puppy, Charlie. Charlie was a small, shaggy black and brown mutt. He loved that dog, and the dog loved him, each exhibiting shining proof in their eyes. Unfortunately, heart worms brought the relationship to an early end, devastating my friend more than Katrina did to New Orleans. He was forced too early to deal with pain and loss, and it fundamentally changed him, something I think about as I watch children cope with historic natural disasters and war zones. Not all react the same to adversity but my friend’s reaction opened a chasm that was never bridged. We came to forks in the road, took different ways, and never saw or heard of one another again.

Until now. It’s nice reaching out to him, and lovely that he’s accepted my FB friend request, but I’ve escaped illusions that we’ll ever be the buddies of childhood. I’ve seen too many changes in myself and other gangs of friends. But my memory of him and our fun and growth in classrooms and summer streets and parks are part of my touchstone of being, so I reach out, to catch a firefly of youth, and watch it glow once more, however briefly it might be.

Mail Call

  • I want to know what mailing list I’m on that I received personalized advertising for cremation services. Have I just reached ‘a certain age’. I think that’s preferable to believing they have inside information, like foretelling people’s demise.
  • Speaking of being a certain age…I’m sixty now, and I receive a lot less junk mail, other than cremation services. It’s nice, as a ‘younger baby-boomer’ (52-61, according to a recent survey) to finally have the credit card, personal loan et al quite circling like waiting buzzards. Or maybe they have access to the same information, that I’m due to die soon, so they’re taken me off their mailing lists.
  • Isn’t it better to have cremation services junk mail rather than dead skunks and raccoons? A coaching candidate didn’t get the job. He mailed dead skunks and raccoons to the rival that won the job to be a fourth grade teacher and basketball coach. I’m making a snap judgement but if he’s such a sore loser, perhaps it’s better that he’s not coaching fourth graders.
  • Fan mail is always fun, especially when they ooze praise for your writing, how a novel ended, or for general creativity. I don’t get much of this stuff and to receive three in one day, from different people, and they didn’t know me, nor were related, is an astronomical high.
  • One of the weirdest recent developments is using FB to send personal messages. People have email addresses but prefer to go to FB and just click and send via that app, rather than using the more tedious method of typing in names or email addresses. I know, because that’s what I do, given the option. It is easier.
  • Speaking of FB, you can always friend me on Facebook. I admittedly tend to FB much less in recent months. It just became too much of the same thing, whether it’s because of the groups I subscribe to, or FB’s tailoring or privacy and security settings. Either way, I’m tired of dealing with their changing settings. So Friend me! Please. Hah.

Sometimes….

Sometimes, you want an outlet. Or a second opinion. For me, this usually comes when computer and connectivity issues crash my plans activities.

Because I’m left wondering, is it me? What is causing this? Is it Google, Chrome, OS, the Internet connection, the web site, computer security, plug in failures, or one of the add-ons, or some misplaced value, or an update running ‘transparently’ in the background? And then I go through each of those, looking for answers about why this is happening, but not finding any. I track to sites like isitdownrightnow.com. By the third incident on one -day, exasperation is spilling over into my tranquil writing-like-crazy processes. Worse, this is the third day in a row….

My evil twin whispers, “Yes, but wasn’t this week of the monthly updates?”

Yes, yes, my evil twin is correct. Update Tuesday, when Microsoft unleashes its fixes and updates and sometimes called Patch Tuesday (please don’t confuse it with Patch Adams) was this week. Microsoft’s updates trigger a tsunami of other fixes, which often include a software entity whose updates or fixes don’t work. Or, some organization doesn’t update its software and now is out of compliance, aka, broken.

Of course, as Wednesday follows Tuesday, Exploits follow Updates. The released updates reveal what needed to be fixed. As all systems and orgs don’t immediately update their systems or launch a corollary fix to address the revealed issues, exploits are quickly developed and deployed.

Yep, anything can happen after Update Tuesday. It drives me mad because here I am, alone on my desert island of computer use, wondering, WTF is going on?

What I’m Following

I try to follow the news and escape the echo chambers. Demoralizing as so many American newspapers essentially offer the same take on every story. So vanilla. Meanwhile, columnists along the political spectrum are generally predictable about what they’ll claim, reducing their value. I like jumping out of the US and checking the news on BBC America, and British, Canadian and Australian newspapers for coverage of American events. I still dance through WaPo, SFGate, NYTimes, Boston.com, Forbes and a few others on a regular daily/weekly basis.

I’m following theSkimm because a friend recommended it. They read so I can skim. I wanted to see how they read and interpret.

Longreads take me into places I wouldn’t otherwise know. Longreads offer compelling, vivid stories. They take a lot of time to read. Yes, I read the Nation, the Atlantic, and Rolling Stone, which also have long articles. Oi.

Haven’t seen anything on theSkimm or Longreads about Lionel Shriver’s opening address at the Brisbane Writers Festival regarding cultural appropriation, but there’s an eruption of blog posts, newspaper columns and editorials about the complex, challenging situation. Wow.

Trying to drift into a different direction, I’ve been checking out Merry Jane’s website. Marijuana is morphing into a large and legitimate business in Oregon, with signs like ‘Exit here for the BEST marijuana’ emerging alongside Interstate 5, right beside signs claiming to have the world’s BEST pie.

I delve into Pinterest, FB and Instagram to see what’s bouncing around those places. I still check Flipboard and BillMoyers daily, and read an overabundance of writing blogs and newsletters, along with Wired, Popular Mechanics, the SmithsonianUnion of Concerned ScientistsDelancey Place and EPI when their newsletters arrive.

What are you reading out there? You have any sites that you recommend?

 

Pounding the Rock

I’m pounding the rock, you know?

Maintainin’.

Chillin’.

Keeping it real. Staying cool.

Tuning out distractions.

Focusing.

Staying the course.

That’s what’s needed sometimes. Sometimes it’s not a piece of cake, a day at the office, easy come, easy go. Sometimes the words are cold iron on the anvil. It’s like rowing up stream. Pushing a boulder up a mountain. One step forward, two steps back.

But I’m going the distance. The whole nine yards.

The whole shebang.

Playing for keeps.

I got my eye set on the prize. I’m ready to seize the brass ring.

I’m not just making promises. I’m here for the long haul.

All this comes, not from reading sports and political news, but from getting beached in a chapter. My head screams, “You’ve lost the plot,” but my tail shouts, “Stay the course.” I’m at a point where I need to go or get off the pot, know what I’m saying? I need to make the opportunities count.

So, after drifting through a QSM and an one point five hours of writing time, and editing, revising and polishing the chapter in progress to the point where I’m trapped, a decision is finally accepted.

It ain’t happening today.

Accepted, with a deep breath. The breath is not of relief nor regret, but simple acceptance that I want to move forward and I need some way around this obstacle.

So —

I write a note at the break: <TK: Bridge required.> That’s highlighted in yellow so I don’t overlook it. I use the <TK> format for convenience for anything that needs addressing. I write like crazy. In essence, that means that while I’m mildly mindful, I’m more interested in capturing lightning in a bottle and writing down the bones. I basically don’t want to be slowed down at that point, so I’ll set it up to be done later. Sometimes it’s research, or the scene needs to be cleaned up for clarification, pacing or continuity. Once in a while, I can’t remember a minor character’s name or someone’s hair color, or other small detail that I think I want to include. I put a note beginning with <TK and explain why it’s there. I also date these entries. Then, when the first draft is finished, I search for <TK, find them and fix them. I’ve usually fixed them before the first draft is completed because I hunt back and forth through the manuscript as I work, tearing out cliches and passive writing, looking for sharper and crisper descriptions, expanding on and subtracting from passages to better fit the narrative that has emerged and to accommodate the characters’ arcs. That’s necessary because my vision of the narrative changes as the story clarifies and evolves. As Bob Muslim noted in his post, “Edit Mode, Anyone?”, “As I write and the story comes alive, things change.” Right on.

This point today is a weird misery for me. A failure. It’s not the first time it’s happened but it’s not common. I don’t care if it happens to everyone, either. It’s personal.

I’ve been fortunate to be able to dial up a scene’s framework, sit down and beginning hammering it out, then shaping and re-shaping it later. It’s not always been that way, but this is what comes from establishing a discipline of writing, writing, writing, writing. Naturally, that’s what I attempted to do today — and yesterday, actually.

Some of this obstacle today is from impatience. I know how other scenes and action spreads out. They excite me, and I’m eager to get to it because that’s the fun part of fiction writing. This writing slowdown is also caused by real life bleedover. Personal matters, issues and problems arose that absorbed time, energy and thought, leaving the writer a little depleted in those areas. Hence the mock pep talk of cliches that began this post.

The thing about these moments is to not let them consume me. Andrea Lundgren had a post, “Do You Write Chronologically?” over on Ryan Lanz’s site, “A Writer’s Path” (which I highly recommend). Overall, I’m comfortable with jumping out of chronological sequence (especially in this novel, which has a, ahem, interesting chronological pattern). I think of it like other projects, like painting a room. The order that I write is only important as part of completing the entire project to my satisfaction.

Yet, yet, it’s not easy to decide, sometimes, to jump out of order. And this is because this scene is not quite coming to me, not in its entirety. And that vexes me.

So, let it go, for now. Let it go. Come back to it later. Maybe later, by the time the entire novel is completed, this scene will be overcome by events and therefore unnecessary. Maybe, even now, I know that, but I’m too intimate with it to say good-bye.

Whatever. When you’re given lemons, you make lemonade.

Or so I’ve been told.

 

 

 

Edit Mode, Anyone?

Editing and revising modes are vastly different than conceiving, creating, writing and polishing modes. Every writer ends up with a different approach, which is one of the hardest points to grasp. You have to find your own batting stance, your own formula, your own look. Part of that for me was learning to love editing mode, but it remains a trying relationship.

gridleyfires's avatarGridley Fires- The Blog

Yesterday, I finished a first draft of a novel I’ve been working on for something like a year and about the ‘Sixties. Okay, I’ll quote David Crosby on that subject again.

“If you remember the ‘Sixties, you weren’t there.”

That quote sometimes confuses me; I often feel I remember too much of that era.

So I had done something in preparing to write that novel I rarely do: I’d outlined it in great detail. Usually I scratch out a few ideas and characters on a pad of paper, just to keep from going too far afield as I write. But a more formal outline for this one seemed necessary because I planned a number of characters and over a span of time, 1968-1970. It’s important in semi-historical writing to at least keep the chronological sequences right. Not that I stick religiously to an outline. As I write and the story comes…

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