No More Contests

   Today's blog is part whining and part frustration. Several years ago, I entered a couple writing contests on the suggestion of my daughter. I received some recognition from both contests which spurred me on to continue writing. I knew nothing at the time, and those stories were unedited, first drafts. After I learned that you're not supposed to submit your writing that way, I figured if I polished the stories and had them edited, I would do better in future contests.
   During the last couple of years, I've written a number of short stories, run them past two critique groups, posted online for feedback, and had them professionally edited. They've all been entered in contests and accomplished nothing. I tried different genres, including literary fiction, and still no luck.
   I hadn't paid much attention to the winning entries before, but decided to read a few to see what I was missing. I couldn't believe what I found. Oh, they were obviously well written with flawless grammar and perfect punctuation, but the stories themselves were meaningless.
   One story was about how this person made numerous bad decisions that ended up with him in serious trouble, and he blamed it all on someone he met in school. Another one was just filled with name dropping of famous people the writer had met. None of the stories held the least bit of interest for me. If these are the kind of stories the judges are looking for, then I won't bother entering anymore contests. I have better things to do than write meaningless stories in an attempt to win a contest.
   My focus will be, and probably should have been all along, to write entertaining stories I enjoy writing and hopefully others will enjoy reading.
   If you are interested in what I'm writing now, check out #saturdayscenes every Saturday on Google Plus and let me know what you think.

   Thanks for reading, and Happy Halloween!

Selling Books Locally

   This is a follow-up to a post from several months ago. Myself and four other writers got together and rented a small space at a local bazaar. The bazaar is located inside the largest mall in the area that sees a lot of traffic, especially with the holidays coming up.
   This was never intended as a money making venture, but more of an attempt to promote name recognition. Although it is nice that I've actually sold a number of books. I have to believe that some positives are happening as a number of people have approached the owner asking if and when we will have a book signing in the mall so they can meet us. I've also had two requests from folks who bought my book to meet them at the mall to personally sign their copy.
   I have been talking with the owner about the book signing, and we have tentatively scheduled it for next spring after all the holiday buzz has worn off. I'm also trying to work things out with a friend of mine, who is a local independent publisher, to have her give a presentation on e-book publishing. We think that will draw a lot of folks just to hear the presentation.
   Like I said in the earlier post, the space only costs us $25 a month, so between the five of us, that's only $5 each. Not a bad deal for getting our books out in front of the thousands of people who visit the mall every month.
   Sickness and pain the last couple of months has severely hampered my writing efforts, but I still hope to have my epic fantasy published in time for our book signing. Since I've had a number of folks ask me about the next novella in the series I started, I began writing the second book for that also. It would be great if I can get both done in time, but I'm not holding my breath.
   The picture is of our display in the mall. It sits just inside the door, and can be seen by those walking by.
   Thanks for reading!

The Temptation to Complain

   When I sat down to write this blog, I thought about complaining because I've been under the burden of depression again for quite a while. I began to take an inventory of my life and realized I have absolutely nothing to complain about. Sure, things could be better, but they could also be a whole lot worse.
   I have a roof over my head, food on the table, and I'm in fairly good health for my age. I can no longer do the things I used to enjoy, but have found something new to fill my time and a number of new friends as a result. Writing stories has opened up a whole new world for me.
   While it is impossible to enjoy anything while depressed, at least I've avoided the temptation to zone out in front of the TV or game console. I force myself to sit down and think about my stories and struggle to put something down on paper. I may fill only a single page with words, but it does give me a slight sense of accomplishment.
   I've gotten involved with Saturdayscenes again in an effort to pressure myself into creating something new every week for the second book of the series I started. The experiment in writing scenes out of sequence is working so far as I've made some progress there as well. It remains to be seen how much trouble I'll have later on arranging all these scenes in the proper order, but at least they'll be written.
   For my friends who I know also have to deal with depression, you have my sympathy and understanding. Who knows, we might wake tomorrow, the dark cloud will have dissipated, and we can live life again.
   Thanks for reading.

Writing Scenes Out Of Sequence

   This will be something new for me. As I've noted in previous posts, I write scenes in my head, over and over, until I'm satisfied and then put it down on paper. Now that I'm approaching the end of my story and the conjunction of several time lines, numerous key scenes are going through my head at the same time. A couple of those scenes are complete, but occur at the end of the story. I normally write each scene in sequence, so I've tried to put them off until I reach that point.
   Unfortunately, earlier scenes aren't ready yet, and I'm having trouble concentrating on them with all the other scenes already in my mind. Nothing is being put down on paper, so I'll attempt something I've never tried before, and write those ending scenes first. Hopefully, once I get them out of my head and on paper, I'll be able to concentrate on the earlier scenes.
   I'm a little leery of this approach since it will require a lot of 'copy & paste' later on to put every scene into the proper order, and it's easy for me to get confused when I'm moving files around. I know others sometimes write the ending of their story first, and then fill in the beginning, so I know it can be done. I'd like to finish this by the end of the year, and this is the only way I'll be able to do that.
   I thought I would share an example of what I talked about last month. This is a scene I wrote down, typed into the computer, and submitted to my writing partners and our critique group. This is exactly as I wrote it, and other than a few edits needed, both groups loved it. Is this as good as they say, or are they just trying to make me feel good?

   This scene involves Marcus, an overly ambitious Duke who is planning to take over the monarchy, but has become the puppet of the Scarred Mage. The evil mage has only one purpose in life, and that is the complete destruction of the Elder Races. He also has a personal grudge against Sebastion, the ogre.

After the council meeting, Duke d’Lorange spent the rest of the day half-heartedly attending to the needs of the Capitol, his mind elsewhere. By late afternoon, his work finally done, Marcus strode purposefully through the halls of the Palace on his way to the family mansion across the square. Oblivious to the nods of the guards now loyal to him, the events of this morning’s council meeting replayed over and over in his thoughts. While the results from his announcement that the Princess had been attacked were exactly what he’d planned, his thoughts kept returning to the ogre.

Damn that meddlesome Prince Mathias for countermanding his orders to the guard, and allowing that animal into the Capitol. The message to him was clear, regardless of what the ogre actually said, the Ancient One was aware of the Duke’s plans and the presence of the ogre was a warning. Why wouldn’t the old man just die and leave the world of men to those with the power and ambition to rule it?

His thoughts scattered when he opened the door and was greeted enthusiastically by his son.

“Father! Is it true?”

“What?”

“Rumors are all over the city that an ogre spoke at the council meeting this morning. Did it actually speak? What did it say?”

The Duke turned away to pour himself a glass of wine which he quickly downed before pouring another. What else did the rumors say? He shook off the sudden unease and turned back to his son.

“What the ogre had to say was meaningless. He’s just an animal taught to mimic the speech of men. Forget about him.”

Rafael grabbed his favorite history book from the table where he’d been reading, and held it up like a shield. “But Father, an ogre’s honesty and loyalty are legendary. Their intelligence has never been questioned, only their ability to learn to speak properly. According to this, they were instrumental in winning the war against the Dark Lord.”

“Nonsense,” Marcus retorted and tossed back the second glass of wine. “Men made up the back-bone of that army while the animals were just in the way. Whoever wrote that book must have believed the Deluti lies.”

Recognizing the look in his son’s eyes, he decided to put an end to the argument before it even began. He didn’t have time for this. “And to prevent you from getting any ideas, I expressly forbid you talking to that ogre. Now tell your mother and sister I am not to be disturbed. Is that understood?”

Marcus sighed as his son stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him. Tempted to pour another glass of wine, he refrained, knowing that no amount of alcohol would diminish the pain he was likely to experience from what he had to do.

Fumbling with the lock on the door to his study, Marcus took a deep breath and turned to face the tapestry on the wall and what was hidden behind it. Even without the cloth covering, it would take more than a casual inspection to discover the near invisible seam outlining the door. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he stepped behind the tapestry and lightly touched the wall with his fingertips. A section of wall, barely wide enough, swung open soundlessly and then returned after he’d stepped through.

He’d learned long ago not to assume what his master knew or didn’t know, and just reported the events as he saw them. By the time he’d mustered enough courage to speak the words of calling and watched the great eye in the mirror disappear, beads of sweat once again covered his brow.

The scarred face of his master soon appeared in the mirror. Those hate filled eyes always made him feel like he had to confess something, anything. But he would not soon forget the consequences of speaking before being given permission, and used every bit of his resolve to keep his mouth firmly closed.

After an eternity, the Dark Lord’s lips twisted into a parody of a smile as his eyes froze the blood in the Duke’s veins.

“Listen very carefully, my little Duke. Plans have changed. I am aware of the attack on Princess Sofia, and her sister will pay dearly for attempting to cross me, but none of that matters to you. What matters to you is that Princess Sofia now belongs to me. If by chance she makes it to the Capitol and you discover her, do nothing except contact me. She is not to be touched. Is that understood?”

“Understood, my Lord,” Marcus answered, but worried about his own plans, asked without thinking, “What of the betrothal?”

Slammed up against the wall, every bone on the verge of shattering, the Duke stared in horror as the scarred visage of his master appeared to emerge from the mirror just inches from his own.

“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear, my pathetic would-be King. There is no more betrothal. Sofia belongs to me. Now, do you have anything more to say?”

Released from the wall, and unable to control the tremors that wracked his body, Marcus struggled to remain upright. Afraid to speak, but afraid not to, he forced a word passed the tightness of his throat.

“Ogre.”

“What did you say?”

“An ogre addressed the council this morning,” he gasped. “He claimed to have been sent by the Ancient One and issued a warning.”

“Didn’t I order you to ban all non-humans from the Capitol?”

“Yes,” the Duke rushed to explain. “I gave specific orders to the guard, but that meddlesome Prince Mathias intercepted the ogre at the gate and reversed my orders. The Prince welcomed the ogre to the Capitol and accepted full responsibility for Sebastian’s saf …”

The tiny room plunged into darkness as Marcus held his breath. What did he say? Faint blue tendrils of power surrounding the mirror were the only things visible. He soon realized he couldn’t draw a breath even if he’d wanted to, but no longer had the capacity to care.

Slowly the Duke became aware of the returning light and his body had resumed the process of breathing. His master’s face had returned to the mirror, and Marcus didn’t miss the splatters of blood caught in the hideous scars. The voice that hissed from those twisted lips was barely recognizable.

“Kill the ogre.”

“But …”

Once again, that face hovered inches from his own.

“Find a way, human. Your life depends on it.”

The Duke collapsed to his knees as the face was replaced by the eye in the mirror and the door opened on its own. He managed to crawl out of the room and onto the chair at his desk, his master’s last command consuming his thoughts. Once able to stand and fortify himself with another glass of wine, he unlocked the door and pulled the servants rope. A plan began to form as he waited for his personal servant to arrive.

“How may I serve you, my Lord?”

“Set someone to watch the ogre that arrived at the Palace today. I want to know where he sleeps, who he talks to, and every move he makes.”

  “It will be done as you say, my Lord.”

Less Science, More Fiction, Please

   I remember, as a young man, reading some of the early, great Science Fiction writers of our time. This was long before we actually put a man in space, but the idea of space travel was always taken for granted. The stories were about the experiences of the characters, and how they dealt with the situations they encountered in their travels. It was rarely about the science involved.
   Even in later stories such as Star Trek and others like it, Warp drive, transporters, etc, were just means of travel, not the point of the story. You never saw an episode where Spock goes into a long discussion on how transporters work, or Scotty explaining the physics of Warp drive.
   Someone writing a modern murder mystery doesn't go into an explanation of how jets fly or how the internet works. These things are part of the world and accepted by the people involved. While some may understand the science behind flight, the majority of the population doesn't give it a second thought, it just works. Why do some writers feel it's necessary to fill up their story with scientific discussions of how everything works in the world they've created? Is it important to the characters and their journey, or is the author trying to impress me with their technical knowledge?
   This applies to Fantasy stories as well. I don't need, nor am I interested in all the discussions about how a particular magic system works and why. What is important to me is how the characters with this special ability use it. Do they use this power to help others, or help themselves? How do others without this power perceive those who do?
   Also, a fantasy doesn't need hordes of magical creatures to make it a creative story. I've recently read a fantasy without fiercesome beasts or an all powerful wizard. Transportation was by horse or wagon, weapons were swords, and a small portion of the population had the power to heal with their mind. The story was about relationships, political power and greed. The power to heal was an important part of the story, but not the focus. It was one of the most engaging stories I've read in a long time.
   Personally, don't try to impress me with your knowledge of physics or your ability to create outrageous creatures. Tell me a story about the human experience. How do your characters handle their emotions, strengths and weaknesses, compared to others in your world? Technical advances are expected in science fiction, and so is magic in fantasy, but they shouldn't be the focus of the story.
   Maybe I'm just a simple man, but less science and more fiction works best for me.
   Thanks for reading.  

First Draft - Edit - Done

   For the past several years I have attempted to emulate the writing style of others, and it's been nothing but frustration. So many writers talk about daily, or weekly word counts, and write multiple drafts, I thought I needed to do the same. I've finally accepted the fact I can not write that way.
   I write in my head. Where others do draft after draft on paper, (or on the computer), I go over each scene in my mind as many times as it takes until I'm satisfied. Part of that is because of my ability to envision the scene like a movie. I continuously hit replay, changing the characters voice, interactions and actions, the setting, etc, until everything fits together correctly and I can put it on paper.
   I have to thank my writing partners who convinced me this was okay. I felt bad only submitting maybe 8-10 pages for critique while they had written 20-30. They pointed out that they would end up re-writing those pages three or four times, where as mine, after little or no changes, was done.
   I'll never be able to pump out a story every couple of months, but I've already got many of the important scenes for the next two books set in my head. Like one of my partners said, "Even when you're not writing, you're still writing." The closer I get to the end of this book, the easier it is to write since I've been developing these scenes in my head for over a year. Whoever said you should know the end before you start, had it right. It's so much easier to put in foreshadowing and gauge the progress of your characters when you know where they need to be at the end.
   Hopefully this means I'll have this book ready to publish before the end of the year. I still have to find the time to sit down and write what's in my head into a notebook and then into the computer. Sometimes that can be a challenge with the way my life is.
   I can't imagine I'm the only one who writes like this. If this is similar to your writing style, I would love to hear from you.
   Thanks for reading.

Is Quality Writing A Thing Of The Past?

   Not long ago, a fellow writer lamented the lack of quality books available either traditionally published or indie. Personally, I believe that person has become a little too critical, but I also believe the quality of writing has steadily declined over the years. I will try to explain what I mean.
   Years ago, when there were many publishing houses, the competition for quality writing was extremely high. Not only did the story have to be nearly perfect just to be accepted, the publishers had an army of editors who would help the authors polish their work to an even higher standard. Obviously, the idea being the best books got the best reviews, sell the most copies, and make the most money for the publisher.
   With the advent of e-books and self- publishing, it feels like the emphasis has shifted from quality to quantity. Where before, the expectation for the author was to sell a large number of one quality book, the reality now is the hope to sell a mediocre number of many different books. Profits have dropped, forcing the publishing houses to reduce the number of editors, yet increase the number of books. The small number of editors no longer have the time to ensure the quality of the books being offered.
   Some self-published authors understand that to have any success, they have to make sure their stories are at the highest level of quality and will hire several different editors to help that happen. Unfortunately, without a large advertising budget, these authors are hard to find. The only thing on their side is time and word of mouth.
   The other problem I see is with the ability of the average reader. It's a sad fact that reading comprehension has been on the decline. The last report I read claimed the majority of high school graduates are functionally illiterate. This is reinforced by the fact that most popular books are written at a lower grade level than ever before.
   Having decided to become a writer myself and learn the proper mechanics for creating a quality story, it's easy to spot many of the mistakes made in today's books. However, as someone who is more interested in story telling than perfect grammar, I can forgive a multitude of errors if the story pulls me in and takes me for a ride.
   Whether this is a bad thing, I have no idea. I'm certainly no expert, and these are just some of my observations. I would love to hear your thoughts or opinions on the subject.
   Thanks for reading.