It's All About the Story

>> Tuesday, March 7, 2017

I love writing. I might have mentioned that a time or two along the way.

But, much more than that, I love telling stories. I love imagining situations that demonstrate points I want to make, imagining characters that people can understand, can feel for and with, and can identify with, and having them make mistakes and smart moves, learn and grow.

If you ever have a one-on-one conversation with me (it could happen), you'll realize that I'm always tossing out anecdotes, either of things that happened to me, things that happened to people I know, or situations I concocted to make the point I'm trying to make. Because, hey, I love telling stories.

I have a good reputation for communicating with people and perhaps that story telling is part of it, according to this article ("The Science of Storytelling: Why Telling a Story Is the Most Effective Way to Activate Our Brains") that talks about studies that scientifically demonstrate what I've always instinctively known.

In the article, they delve into the physical reasons of why, the genetic usefulness of the story, but I, personally (and with no science backing) think it's easy to explain.

The intent of a story is to allow you to live something vicariously. I don't have to have a child out of wedlock to feel sympathy and understanding for someone in that plight. It is possible for a very sympathetic person to feel that way with a bullet point, but a story, were we're put in her shoes, where we come to terms with parents that disown us, with a workplace world that certainly doesn't want us, with societal norms that make us into monsters, tell us we can't abort the children that will change (possibly disastrously) our futures, but then treat us as pariahs indefinitely for doing so. Juno is an excellent example of a story that doesn't preach, but tells us a whole host of important truths.

Stories, well-told stories, make abstract notions alive, where we can taste the bitter bile of despair or the frothy sweetness of "innocent love," we can itch with the sweat of determination and futility and feel the totally badass thrill of slicing through the enemies that threaten us. We have the opportunities to see things from perspectives we never knew or find comfort in relationships with loved ones, with pets, with friends long gone, relived through someone else's similar story.

That emotional response, in my opinion, comes from it becoming real for you, hearing the various vernaculars in James Herriot's stories, feeling the wuthering wind of desolation in Wuthering Heights,  wondering what it really would be like to find you had power you didn't know about like Harry Potter. That's why so many people (including myself) become passionate about characters and worlds that never existed. That's why nonfiction that pulls out examples that demonstrate the impact of  political decisions or historical facts or scientific discoveries are far more compelling than just description, no matter how erudite the language.

Because, stories make people, situations, facts, history, philosophy come alive.

And once something you've read or heard some story, have absorbed and lived that story, it becomes a part of you and created an emotional response in you. Your memory of reading/hearing it because an episode of you living it as if it's your own memory and affects how you see the world, how you see people, what matters to you. Not because the point was hammered over and over -- in fact, don't do that; people don't respond to that unless they're already believers--but because the lessons are part and parcel of the story. I don't have to hammer a point if it comes as part of a story, intrinsic. It helps, of course, if the contrivance for the story is not obvious and--please, please-the writer took the effort to make it entertaining, too. And if you think you can't have both, you really have been indoctrinated.

Few examples leap to mind like M*A*S*H. I loved that show and I know, for a fact, much of the philosophy and mindset "preached" by that show, most often through example, shapes my views on war and people even today. Some of it got a bit heavyhanded toward the end, but, for the most part, they took characters we cared about and made them deal with things that people really shouldn't have to deal with--without forgetting the humor or the humanity.

So, writing for me--storytelling for me--is about communicating, telling you how I see the world, how I want to see it, what I want to strive for built in, part and parcel, with stories with people I hope you can enjoy and situations that stir the imagination, perspectives that might be different than you expected.

And, with luck, you'll have a great time at the same time.

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So, some actual BLOG news for a change

>> Sunday, March 5, 2017

First, let's talk blog. For those of you hardy souls still following this blog, you're probably wondering why I still have it. Well, it's because I haven't actually given up on it. And I'm going to prove it by getting back in gear and writing blog posts. I like writing blog posts and interacting with those that get on my blog and comment back. So, though it's been languishing for far longer than I like to think about, expect to see me talking about writing again, right here.

And, yeah, that will still involve new releases, but also chatting about works in progress and what I think makes good writing  and the like, just like always. Only, hopefully in the future, not identical to what I did in the past. You know what I mean. I won't be posting daily--got three blogs and a girl's gotta sleep--but I'll try to post something at least weekly.

For those who are still deeply interested in the writing itself, but don't like checking back on blogs and stuff, I'm starting a monthly newsletter. You can sign up on the right.

You'll get notifications of new releases and the single monthly newsletter and that's IT, but only to people who signed up, who actually want to know all that.

The newsletter will include some insight into my writing, why I love it, what I think about it and what I like or don't like, a handy reference for all my existing books and news about forthcoming events, and an original short story so my "fans" can get a first look on my stories. I want it to be fun and hope it will be because, though I hate "marketing" I love interacting with people and sharing things I hope they'll like.


If you're one of the people interested, sign up. I will not be using your email for any other purpose.

First Newsletter will go on next Friday, March 10.

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Saving Tessa: Now it's Science Fiction!

>> Thursday, February 9, 2017

I have reworked Saving Tessa to be a science fiction YA adventure (though it was close to that already).


In the year 2045, smart tech is everywhere, much of it devised by the teenage prodigy Dylan Chroz. But being at the top of the technical world means being in demand. Sometimes, by people who should be looking out for you. Sometimes, by people who won't take no for an answer.

Tessa alone makes Dylan's life more than schematics and computers, a spot of vibrant color and irrepressible life in a dreary world of users and frauds. 

So what do you do when someone steals your girl to make you perform your technical wizardry on their sketchy hardware? Do you curl up and cry? Do what they want? Defy them? Or do you outsmart them and do your damnedest to smoke out every one of them so they never can do this again?


That is, if Tessa doesn't beat you to it.
Also, as with Curse of the Jenri, I'm going to make it available in book form. Proof is on it's way to me now and I'll announce it when it's available. Eventually, I'll do this with all my books, but I'm excited about this one because I have a character frighteningly like me there.

Thanks for the gorgeous cover by Ryn Katryn.

Amazon

Smashwords

One of the things I did with this story when I moved it to 2045 is work on a post-Trumpian recovery. I found it therapeutic.

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Curse of the Jenri Is OUT!

>> Saturday, February 4, 2017

Curse of the Jenri is now OUT, out in ebook and, for the first time, I'm going to be putting it out in print as well. I got the proof, my first ever, today! I'm so excited (so no print now but soon; I'll keep you posted). You can find it on amazon and smashwords and it should soon be available at Barnes and Nobles, Kobo and the iStore. Links for Amazon and Smashwords are available now

.

Finally, a Sword & Sorcery epic like it ought to be: manly hero who swings a massive sword and stumbles into spells, lovely wife who can kick his ass, a fleet of fiery and fierce compatriots, dastardly villains with vile intents, even griffons, all that and a dragonet. Oh, and six kittens. Because every manly man needs kittens, right?

RIGHT?!?

Or, alternatively,

The world of the Jenri is a dangerous, primitive world, where women are prized as chattel, but the Jenri women, every one from the eldest archivist to the smallest babe, strike fear into battle-hardened mercenary hearts. It is a world where battle steeds are mythical beasts and magic is as deadly a weapon as a sword. Those who wield both are doubly dangerous and those who cross them are thrice damned. The Jenri are mistresses of all these things. If you love one of these marvelous women, you must best her in a contest of her choosing to win her love in return.

These were women who needed no one to take care of them. Until now.

It wasn’t enough that Jenri women had been stolen, including his wife, Layla It wasn't enough that those who had stolen them had nefarious plans. And phenomenal magic powers. And could escape in seconds. And an underground fortress in the midst of frozen mountains so cold Tander was afraid he’d shatter if he stumbled one more time. It wasn’t enough that he was surrounded by angry husbands worried about their wives and willing to take their tempers out on him if he was leading them in the wrong direction. It wasn’t enough that he was also surrounded by the remaining women from his tribe who were equally angry and more than capable of kicking his butt.

No, on top of all those little issues, he discovered he's no longer “just” an extraordinary swordsman, but also a great and powerful sorcerer with absolutely no idea how to use his powers. He was not just any sorcerer, either, but one chosen by six tiny kitten familiars who did know how to use his powers and who had no problem telling him. All the time. While they demanded to be carried all over his person, purring and taking inopportune naps. He didn’t want these powers or a flock of noisy but helpful kittens, but he was going to need them. He'd need all the skills and talents he and his companions possess in order to save their women—and Layla.

But we love you, Tander! Solace insisted, purring and licking his neck.

Things have got to get better soon.

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The Dark Side of Show Don't Tell

>> Friday, December 9, 2016

The other day, I was caught by surprise by some feedback on a short story. Not because it was uncomplimentary--that happens, I think, to all writers at some point--but because what she did (and didn't) get out of it was almost exactly the opposite of (a) what I intended and (b) what my other readers of this story have gotten out of it. Now let me be clear, I'm very grateful when anyone not only reads something I've written but takes the time to comment and the more detail the better. I was certainly not shortchanged in that regard. I love hearing an honest response because I want my writing to be the best it can be. That does not mean I have to follow all advice I get (or, technically, any of it) because it's my name on it.  

But, if I want my writing to be more than an exercise in self-gratification, I have to remember that communication involves two interested parties, not just one. I can snicker away all day at my character's banter or antics, but, if I don't communicate them effectively to a reader, I'm snickering alone. Which is fine if that's all I want, but not if I want to actually touch people.

But, by that same token, as a reader, I have some responsibilities, too. I, as a reader, am going to have to see beyond the surface words and look for inferences and inflection, make connections, listen for nuance and tone in conversations and small actions. If I must have every relationship and detail explained, I should stick to reading medicine bottles and skip fiction altogether, because good writing is as much about what the author doesn't overtly say as what she does say.

One of the most pervasive mantras in any writing venue is "Show, don't tell." And it's damn good advice which is why it's ubiquitous. There are several reasons for this, including, (a) it's boring as hell to hear a litany of data instead of seeing things happen and people grow, (b) if you're not careful, the very descriptions you provide on a character's intelligence or kindness doesn't play out in the words and actions of said character, which is a good way to crucify him with a reader, and (c) it's often the difference between someone telling you a story and you living it. Most writers I know strive for having their readers immersed and a part of it.

But, like most things in a subjective media, it's not a binary proposition. Not being subtle enough (telling not showing) is insulting to a perceptive reader. Being too subtle or oblique is frustrating and confusing and insulting in a different way. But readers are not the same. Some readers may pick up on lots of clues and delight in putting them together. Others may prefer only a modicum of subtleties or a certain type and find themselves readily baffled when confronted with a layered story. In part, that drives choosing an audience, but it also means that you as a writer, need to find the right level of subtlety and clarity to convey what you want to convey to your target audience. And there will be misses: some you can fix with a little more/less clarity, some you can't without corrupting what you want to say or losing the bulk of your audience.

Bottom line, though, this whole exercise reminded me that this communication of story, of characters, of action, of what I wanted to say, wasn't just about me, and that I should check once in a while with my target audience to make sure what I was saying was coming through as I intended, because I hate to snicker alone. And I think it's worthwhile to talk about critical reading skills because the same skills that let you pick up on context and subtleties in fiction are useful in the real "nonfiction" world of Main Stream Media where spin is king and emotional manipulation (usually toward outrage) is the name of the game. Being wary of inflammatory subtleties and overt manipulation is useful when trying to get at the kernels of truth, or identifying a source with an agenda. Critical reading, like critical thinking, helps separate the chaff from the wheat, so get those reading glasses on and let's have fun like it's fourth grade and we're doing those silly inane passages for reading comprehension except this one is fun and at higher than a fourth grade level, because, hey, you wouldn't be reading this blog if you were still reading on that level.

Note, since blogger puts everything in italics, the "bolded" bits are actually italics.


"Can you believe that guy, K'Ti?" Darma ranted, her ready rage giving her voice real carrying power. She towered over her petite brown companion, a slim blonde beauty as supple and sharp as her laser blue eyes. "Hemming and hawing and desperate for any excuse to stop us from going out to collect plants in broad daylight when he and his shapeshifting buddies—even his non-shape-shifting buddies—go out hunting every night. Hell, last time he went hunting, he came back with a hole in his ass so big, I had to give him blood half a dozen times so he didn't die. And then—then—he gets this uptight look on his face, and tells me I need to be careful but he'll let us go by ourselves against his better judgement. Let us!

Wouldn't getting a hole in my ass argue how dangerous it is, you crazy girl? Laren fumed, from his hiding place in the tree behind them.

Her companion, K'Ti, in that tight voice she used just before she went after a body with a wooden spoon, said "I noticed. It's not as if you could have been any clearer when he tried to bull his way onto our expedition."

"I know, right? Getting all bossy with me. Damn it, I'm three years older than he is," Darma kicked the underbrush. "You're lucky you have Xander. At least he respected you enough not to try to talk you out of it."

"Xander was only wise enough to lose an argument in a way no one else could hear," K'Ti corrected, her voice grim. K'Ti had a prodigious temper, too, and Laren had been on the receiving end a time or two. Laren felt an edge of respect for his foster brother, Xander, going toe-to-toe with the formidable healer even if only in their minds.

"Oh, right, Xander's a telepath even in his human form," Darma said, with a touch of envy. "Didn't think about that. Must be convenient."

"I think it's cheating. It is much harder to speak forcefully when you can't speak."

Darma laughed at that, ""Shoulda just yelled at him anyway, made him look foolish."

K'Ti sighed. "Or I would have looked so. I've been with him on this same route to gather plants two dozen times without problems. There's no reason to think I would not be safe with you. But, in the end, he did promise not to come unless we called for him."

"Will he do it?"

K'Ti appeared surprised. "Of course he will," she said as if that were almost insulting, then added, "I will know if he doesn't keep to his word. There is no hiding it from me."

Darma laughed again, her temper subsiding as it usually did as quickly as it came. "Empath and a telepath hooking up. No one can escape. Is Xander off the suppressant? He hasn't had a fever in three days. I mean, he can change into a dragon if he needs to, right?"

 So 501 words, no overt action so far, but have we wasted our time or have we learned something?

For instance, who is Darma mad at (name is not required but extra points if you guess it): (a) Father, (b) Head honcho, (c) overprotective boyfriend?

Are these folks, as a whole, normal humans or do they have special abilities. If the latter, can you name some of the abilities possible? Does everyone have the same set of abilities?

Is Laren part of the conversation? If not, what is he doing?

What connection does Xander (referenced but not included here) have to the other characters? What powers do we know he has? Extra credit if you can identify one of K'Ti's capabilities as well.

Whose POV (Point of View) is this story written in?

I tried to put clues to answer all these questions (and more) in here, but, and I can't stress it enough, you're not "wrong" if you answer differently than I intended or you can't answer a question. That just means I need to work a little harder. But isn't it fun to fathom out a story? Or maybe it's just me.

I would LOVE it if people wrote down their responses to this.

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Amazing Changes on the Writing Frontier

>> Tuesday, September 6, 2016

Many of you have likely noted my large repertoire of self-published novels and anthologies. I had a good reason for doing it, namely, I couldn't seem to connect with a publisher who appreciated my writing like, let's face it, I do.

And there's no merit in a story that sits forever in a virtual drawer. So I put them out there, where, they were mostly ignored, but nowhere near as ignored as they were on my computer alone. And, I maintain, that was largely because my marketing skills are not impressive. But the books...

This past year, I've dallied in a field I haven't dallied in in decades, short stories. Prompted first by contests, then a great friend, Chuck Larlham, who enjoyed reading my work and kept finding new opportunities to check out and, ultimately, write a story for. So, after a year, I've got more than a dozen new stories, mostly fantasy science fiction and fantasy, but several that are also in different genres I haven't tried before or, at least, not in a long time.

As I've been rediscovering my writing talent, Chuck's also been key to my sending it out there. I got in JAMM magazine (as I noted previously), have a story accepted in an anthology meant for book club type parties, and another short story in charity anthology to support a charity that works with domestic abuse (Dove).

The publisher for the Dove anthology specializes in science fiction and fantasy and the name could not have been more perfect for me: The Dragon's Rocketship Publishing. They're relatively new and small, which is fine with me, and also accept short stories. So, a story that didn't make any waves in a contest (I seem to do more poorly in those than straight marketing) seemed like something to try because I *liked* it. So did they. They in fact gushed in the way I've been dreaming of a publisher gushing since time immemorial and wanted to know if I could make it into a novel. Well, no, I hadn't intended to make it into a novel, but, oddly enough, I'd written two side short stories that were related to a novel I'd already written (Curse of the Jenri) and was weeks away from self-publishing.

Not the final cover, just my own concept

Well, they liked those stories and then the novel. So, here we are, a few weeks later and I have signed contracts on seven short stories (plus the anthology story) and a novel.

Am I happy?

I, who am never at a loss for words, can't even find a word to describe how fantastic I feel to find people who *get* what I'm writing ans saying.

If you're on facebook, feel free to go by their facebook page and give 'em some love.

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New Story Published!

>> Tuesday, May 24, 2016

My new story, "Second Life," is out in the e-zine "Just a Minor Malfunction" available now for a limited time at $0.99!

My story, "Second Life," is set aboard a space station so I get to use actual rocket science expertise and I allow a little bit of sleuthing for the biologically minded. With people trapped forever in space, finding yourself confronted with what might be an epidemic has got to be terrifying, especially since insanity comes with it. I hope you'll check it out

Chuck Larlham
is in there, too, and a number of other awesome science fiction stories. In fact, it's one of the best collections of hard science fiction I've read in a long long time, so I'm proud to be part of it. Something for everyone, folks!

It's a steal right now. If you like science fiction or just being entertained, well worth your dollar.

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So, I sold a short story to a new e-zine of hard science fiction

>> Saturday, April 30, 2016

That's independent to an unusual degree. But, you know, I'm pretty avant garde myself. Looks like I'll be in the first issue of Just A Minor Malfunction along with my good writing buddy, R. C. Larlham. So, fun will be had for everyone.

I'm actually rather excited as it's set in a science fiction setting I'd been planning (and am still planning) to write a novel in, only this is more a prequel. Thing is, I'm so in love with my characters in this new short story, Second Life, I may have to make room for them in the novel.

But then, I do love a challenge. If you're interested in reading my story, Chuck's or any of the other stories gathered, check it out.

https://www.indiegogo.com/…/just-a-minor-malfunction-sci-fi…

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"Poetic Justice" - another excerpt from Conjuring Dreams

>> Friday, August 21, 2015

So, with our political climate and the talk about sexism and the roles of women, seems only fitting I dust off one of my short stories from Conjuring Dreams.


Poetic Justice

    The secretary barely lifted his head as the door slid open, just glancing at the slim figure in the doorway. A glance was enough. He saw pilot leathers, scuffed and ill-fitting on the gangly body, close-fitting comm-cap and a mask across the face. Some of the pilots had taken to wearing the masks on the ground, unhappy, the secretary supposed with the unfiltered air of what they called "dirtside." Affectation, if you asked him.
    Apparently consumed by his screen again, the secretary said, "No one sees Prime Kaladan without an appointment. If you need an appointment," and the secretary paused as if that seemed unlikely, "you'll have to go through proper channels."
    "I have an appointment." The voice was absurdly youthful and the secretary looked up again at the large eyes and smooth skin. Why he was just a boy!
    "You're Pilot M. Cremden out of Pandora's Box? Lord Admiral and Prime of Havern?"
    "My father was Admiral and Prime," the boy answered. "But I am pilot of Pandora's Box, I am from Havern and here on her business. And I do have an appointment."
    "Is this a joke? Where's your father?"
    "My father is dead, sirrah. Faladian Plague, two years past."
    The secretary leaned back in his chair, instinctively giving the pilot extra room. He squinted at the youthful eyes, large and dark, above the mask. That was certainly plausible.
    Faladian Plague was a menace, wiping out whole populations with a particular genetic trait, that changed with time and venue. Once it was hemophiliacs. Another it was anyone with blue eyes. Three times, whole clans had been eradicated because the mutating disease chose something peculiar to their genetic makeup. It was postulated that it never quite faded despite its devastation and the efforts made to combat it because it would mutate into a form benign to existing genetic gene-maps and stay resident, sometimes for generations. But, when it attacked, it was virulent, it had a 100% mortality rate and the several year incubation meant that people were infected and infectious without ever knowing they were already dead or spreading death to others. Or both. Some of the planets in the Federation would never recover.  The secretary found himself grateful for the pilot's mask. Still...
    "ID?"
    Wordlessly, the boy slid it under the laser. Pilot First Class, M. Cremden, certified pilot for four standard years, attested to by the father. Well, that was normal. Pilots learned father to son, of course, or apprenticed as the guild demanded. 22 standards old. Odd. He looked younger, his eyes...
    The secretary waved him to a seat. "You're early. You'll have to wait a few minutes."
    The boy tucked the card back in a pocket and sat in the chair indicated. The eyes were calm, but the fingers twitched and fidgeted, belying the outward calm. The secretary double-checked the scans from the boy's walk in. No, no weapons. Still, something was making the secretary uneasy. Something was just not right.
    "Havern, eh? I haven't heard of pilots from Havern for months, nor other word. Price of Latvium was starting to climb rapidly without fresh shipments. I hope you brought a big one."
    The boy shook his head. "Only a little. It's a one-man ship with only minimal cargo space, 22 metric tons. And some of that I needed for extra logistics. She wasn't made for long hauls and it's a sizable trip from Havern. Nine jumps."
    "One man? Why did you come alone? You're just a strapling! Why didn't you bring more ships or a crew? Bring us a real shipment. Your arrival will probably jack up prices even further..." The secretary squinted his eyes suspiciously. "Or was that the plan? The Federation takes price gouging very seriously."
    "We're not trying to manipulate the market," the boy said defensively. "As for why I came as I did, that's a discussion I came here to have with the Prime, not with you." There was an air of bravado on the last sally, underwritten by fear, as if the boy expected to get slapped back down for his effrontery.
    The secretary was more than happy to oblige and would have done so if the intercom hadn't buzzed. "Deeb, send Pilot Cremden."
    "But, sir—!"
    "Now." The word was implacable.
    "At once, sir."
    Secretary Deeb rose and touched the palmplate to release the door, then held it open with a bow. That bastard pilot waltzed through without so much as a head nod. Damn, Deeb thought, I hate those damn pilots! Deeb closed the door, careful not to slam it. Too bad a temper tantrum was not worth losing his job.
    Mina Cremden breathed out a sigh of relief as the door closed, trying to do so unobtrusively. Everything depended on Prime Kaladan's reaction to what happened on Havern.
    You think that, because you believe the lie, Linette said in Mina's head. You risk yourself for nothing.
    I have to try, Mina told her.
    You are too stubborn.
    "Well, Pilot Cremden, you have my attention. Did you plan to spend my valuable time staring at nothing?"
    "Pray forgive me, Prime Kaladan," Mina said, with a bow.
    The man behind the desk was older than Mina's father had been, but his green eyes were razor sharp. He studied Mina for a moment, then indicated a chair. "Kindly have a seat, young Pilot, and tell me why Havern has not been making shipments of Latvium. My secretary is right to be concerned, as am I. It is always interesting how a substance no one knew about thirty years ago can become indispensable. Your failure to keep up shipments is...disturbing."
    "It was the plague."
    "The Faladian Plague? Yes, I heard you mention it to Deeb. That is unfortunate. It's a wonder that no one on your planet sent any word."
    "It happened very quickly, within weeks. Every expert, every pilot, every communication technician, every doctor . . . everyone who knew how to do anything—gone. I'm the only pilot remaining."
    Prime Kaladan's eyebrows rose. "Everyone? That seems implausible even for the Faladian. What possible genetic trait did it target?"
    Mina took a deep breath before removing helmet and mask. "Y chromosome."
    She was prepared for shock, had steeled herself against it, but still she felt it like a blow. "A woman!" he gasped, rage warring with disbelief. "How dare you! How dare you enter this office under false pretenses!" He had leapt to his feet as if glavanized and stalked around the desk to glare down at her.
    "I had no choice," Mina said firmly, fighting the urge to prostrate herself. "I'm the only pilot left." She knew what she looked like. Dark eyes in a pointed face, hair cut close to her head. No artifice, no effort to be beautiful, which was a woman's duty, but she knew her face was unmistakably female.
    "You should never have been a pilot. Your father, he taught you? If he were not dead, I would kill him myself for the blasphemy! Women are forbidden from becoming pilots."
    "Yes, and miners and managers and technicians. Aren't you listening? There is no one else. We need help."
    "You thought you could come here and be heard? You have no right—," he hissed.
    "We are desperate, Prime Kaladan. We have done only what we had no choice but to do." Mina tightened her lips to try to keep the words back, but failed. "Once, women did the same as men, were pilots and technicians and engineers and even scientists. My father told me, before the first Faladian Plague when women were all but eradicated, women and men worked side by side. He said it was just—."
    He cut her off with an impatient gesture. "Your father was a damned fool! He should never revealed such things but to another Prime, let alone a woman. He did not deserve the title of Prime. And you come here as if we are equal . . . "
    "I came because there was no one else to come. Help us. There are none but women and a tiny number of men left. Send us experts and leaders. We are so vulnerable. If you would send . . . "
    "I send men and you women will just toddle back into your rightful place? You flew a spaceship here and you expect me to believe you'll return blithely back to your proper place? How will unlearn what you had no right to learn?"
    He bent over her menacingly and she slid from the chair to kneel at his feet, head bowed. "Forgive me, Prime. My father had no sons . . . "
    "Then he should have adopted, like a reasonable man! You have tied my hands, left me no choice."
    "We came for help," she despaired.
    "Oh, we will come for Havern, make no mistake. Latvium is too valuable to lie fallow nor can we count on the Havern survivors to die out naturally. Who knows if this poison that your father spawned has spread. What else to women take upon themselves to do there? No, it is too dangerous to leave things as they are." He tipped her head up and regarded her sorrowfully. "Pity. Despite your hair, you could have been beautiful, good skin, good bones, a fine addition to a respectable man's household. A possession to be treasured. Gone to waste." His fingers lingered at her chin. "I'm sorry."
    She never saw the blade that slashed across her throat.
    Linette gasped, her own throat seizing as her twin's throat was cut. Her fingers touched her neck, tears starting in her eyes. Mina!
    It was inevitable. She'd known what Mina would bring on her own head, just as she knew Prime Kaladan would call on other Prime and would build an armada to attack them, as anxious to eradicate any hint that women could be more than chattel as they were to help themselves to the Latvium. Still, it grieved her, just as Mina's death sliced her to the core.
    Prime Kaladan was right about one thing. The women on Havern would not return to their former roles. Thirty years under Prime Mendel Cremden had as much to do with that as the plague. Once they realized they could be what they chose to be, there was no going back.
    Oh, some still struggled with it, as Mina had. Linette's mother still cowered in her robes and mourned a world where she knew her role. But others had come forward to do what needed to be done, when the men were gone. They would survive until the next generation. And then things would be different.
    As for the Prime and his plans, they were as futile as Mina's had been. Her father had known how to build a defense matrix, and Mina lied about there being only one pilot. Linette was also a pilot. There was a sizable number of very serviceable spacecraft at the Havern port. And a likely looking group of pilots-in-training.
    Nor could Kaladan see past the threat he thought existed in the women to the real risk of the Faladian Plague he had exposed himself to and would expose those he called to his aid. He'd risk a galaxy-wide deadly scourge to put an isolated handful of women in their place. Fool.
    But then, as her father had always said, one couldn't help but be a fool if one deliberately devalued half the populace.

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Why I Break a Lot of Rules

>> Friday, July 3, 2015

When it comes to writing, there a lot of rules. When to bring the plot to the forefront. What's important early on. Only use "said" not other identifiers. Avoid adverbs. Show don't tell. Don't write in dialect. Use complete sentences. Yada yada yada.

I'm not saying yada yada yada because the rules aren't important; I'm saying it because I don't think the rules are ALL important. So let me make it clear.

It is important to know the rules. For one thing, many of these are fine practices to follow especially (a) if you're just learning your craft and (b) if you are trying to write professionally - i.e. you'll be writing for markets where the editors are looking to see, first off, if you know your craft.

And, although I'm going to explain why I break many of these rules, there's a huge difference between breaking rules because you don't know any better and making a conscious decision to do something different. If you don't know the basics, don't understand how to communicate well, while you're figuring out how to do that and probably before you find your voice, you want to be very cognizant of things that will make you look like an amateur--and will adversely affect your writing.

Because, and I think this is true for most of us, writing is more than talent. Writing requires skills and you develop those skills over time. The rules provide a way to avoid many pitfalls you might otherwise fall into while you make the mistakes and learn from those aspects of writing the rules don't cover, because, that's the other half. Following the rules alone doesn't make you a good writer. Talent is part of it, too. Saying something compelling, descriptive, wrenching, thought-provoking - you don't get there by using the rules and nothing more. The rules are tools you can use to build your great work, but they aren't enough by themselves. And, if you want to know "The Rules," there are literally thousands of books out there with writing rules in them, some the same, others variations on each other and some unique to each author. I'd look for books that seem in keeping with authors you like so you can find a set of rules that work best for what you want to write. I won't recommend any because I literally haven't read one in decades.

I am, you see, a freak. I am self-taught, teaching myself writing by (a) reading both authors I found compelling (and trying to understand why I loved them) and authors I didn't like or even hated (and trying to understand why I hated them so I could avoid doing the same) as well as (b) writing - lots and lots of writing. Writing let me find out what I liked writing, what I liked reading of my own, what did work for me and what didn't. It let me find out what wasn't working for me and what was. Poetry, short stories, novels - each type taught me different things with some things I learned writing poetry spilling over to make my short stories better, more emotionally gripping, more powerful and from my short stories to my novels to make my characterizations more vivid faster and adding drama when required.

From reading and writing, many of the big rules out there I soaked up by osmosis. Others I had pointed out by readers and fellow writers. There may still be some I don't know, but I think I've got a handle on most of them. And, most of them I follow, though there are a few notable ones I don't. And here's why:

Sentence fragments - when I write dialog, you'll see a great many fragments. That's because normal people (other than myself) tend to speak in fragments rather than complete sentences. If all of your characters speak in complete sentences, they'll all sound like English professors and that's not natural. So I don't, though I usually have one character at least that speaks that way (a) because I do (so it's often a protagonist) and (b) differences in syntax, grammar and sentence structure can help differentiate different characters, can make them seem more individual and vivid.

Now, that would be fine if I only did so in dialog but I don't. However, since I tend toward third person POV, I'm often inside someone's head and the tone and phrasing are in keeping with the head I'm in. Also, fragments can be used very effectively for impact and for humor, both things I strive for in my books. Which is why this is most likely to happen in moments of tension or humor or stress.

So, although I prefer generally to write in complete sentences, there are times when I knowingly and deliberately use fragments.


Head-hopping - this is the pet peeve of many an excellent writer and I don't blame them. Now that I'm cognizant of this issue (and I didn't know much about it for years), I can often find it irritating myself. But, yes, I still do it. Here's why.

First, I didn't know about the whole POV third person because I mostly wrote in what I considered third person omniscient which is, apparently, very passé. I have since made an effort to understand who's head I'm in, to control my transitions and, in some cases, keep them from happening. I have at least one book from all one point of view (which is the preferred method) and another where it's almost all limited to two viewpoints and generally has nice clear transitions.

My other three novels, however, are largely ensemble pieces where two viewpoints aren't enough to get the whole story and, while there tends to be a couple viewpoints that get precedence, more are needed, even in close succession. For a purist, it can be pretty wrenching. I tried to limit the viewpoints consciously, but, when it detracted from the story, and there were places where it made things awkward or confusing, I didn't limit myself.

Identifier - He said, she said. If you've written things well, the dialog itself should describe the specifics, the muttering, the yelling, the whispering, the begging, the insisting - it should be clear. Overuse of identifiers (especially severe overuse) can be very distracting and clumsy. Many a newbie writer uses them like candy so flagrantly, they look desperate, though not as desperate as when someone with less than a stellar grasp of language misuses them where the dialog clearly is saying one thing and the identifier (possibly from a ill-fated thesaurus hunt) says something contradictory. So, yeah, this rule has a reason.

I'm not bragging when I say I write pretty good dialog - but I still sometimes (sometimes frequently) use identifiers.Why? Well, a couple of reasons. (a) First, descriptive identifiers weren't always off limits and I read a lot of (1) old stuff and (2) British stuff. And the truth is, the identifiers were often part of the humor, part of the voice of the author and, when the dialog wasn't strong (and some old stuff is pretty stilted), they were used to good effect. There are passages where the identifiers made it much better for me, added to my delight in a passage. It's a potential tool, particularly when you need exposition (to liven up someone's data download) or when the dialog itself isn't exciting because, hey, sometimes exciting dialog doesn't fit the circumstances. I don't throw a tool away unless I have no choice. My point is I've seen them used effectively and I know it can be done.


(b) It can be useful in conveying emotions and reactions economically. If I said "I'm fine," he groaned, I know he's in pain or otherwise stressed. I don't have to explain his face is creased or sweat is beading on his face, that his hands are shaking with pain. Within the context of what I've written, I've conveyed a great deal with that one word that could take me several other sentences to convey otherwise. Same with if I said, "I'm fine," she hissed or "I'm fine," she chuckled. Same words, but I've conveyed more and I don't have to explain it. I can just move on with my story. 


(c) Identifiers can be hilarious. I've both seen and used them to comic effect and they can totally be icing on the cake. They can also be used to reinforce your particular voice. I especially like to use them on throw-away side characters who we don't get to know but provide humor through their antics.

Last and not least on this particular list...

Adverbs, particularly -ly ones (you see what I did there?) - -Ly adverbs are a problem for the same reason that identifiers can be a problem. They can be used lazily when more effective verbs or adjectives could do the job. I can't tell you the number of times I've closed a book myself as redundancy and overly ornate descriptions and piled on adverbs (often poorly chosen) and other descriptors swamped me.  On page one of one recommended book, our hero was riding over the verdant green grass. Since verdant means green that was pretty redundant. Not to mention that, as a general rule, the green is implied with "grass" anyway. But I digress.

Do I still use more than the recommended dose of -ly and other adverbs? Yep and I'm not apologizing. You know why?

Well, I like them and use them for much the same reasons I use diverse identifiers: I've seen it in authors I admire, it's a tool like any other, they can convey things easily and without awkwardness (and I've seen people do some pretty awkward things to avoid them), and they can be indispensable when it comes to humor. One of my favorite authors, who is also one of the funniest I've ever read, used them comically to great advantage. I STILL can't think of the passages where she used them without breaking up and wiping tears of laughter from my eyes. Not saying I'm as skilled as she, but there are times when my particular wording using an -ly adverb tickles me because it reminds me of her, almost like an homage. And when that happens, or when I feel like the wording reflects my writer's voice, my humor or just sounds better (ah, those years as a poet), I'll leave it if it works for me.

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