I don’t think I’m the first person to establish that blogging and physical condition training are interrelated. What they have in common is that it’s so much more fun to do something else. A blog entry’s no more than exchanging a few words with friendly people. PT training’s just being sure you’re in good enough shape for physical effort, be it work or play. I always enjoy shooting the breeze with folks. I enjoy physical stuff. Why do I dislike working out and/or spending time typing a conversation? I hope it’s just human nature. I need all the human I can get.

Which brings me around to mood status, a segue that only an intensely human person could execute. I was reading a thriller a few days ago (so much easier than writing a blog entry) when it came to me that the scene was as flat as yesterday’s open beer. There was plenty of action and good tension (both between characters and the situation ) and enough suspense to keep a reader zipping through the pages – but there was something missing. Sort of like a silent movie – one’s never in doubt about what’s going on, but it’s weird to watch all that jittering around and not hear a thing. It took me a minute to link that sense of silence with the use of music in film. Moviemakers have access to the finest mood-seting mechanism we’ve invented – music. Writers don’t have that luxury. Still, we can set mood other ways. They have to be subtle and they have to be so well-designed that their effect is cumulative, not single shot. We have to think about the psychological effect of color; we choose them to underline feelings of excitement or calm. We have language; for example, strong verbs accentuate vigorous activity. We have to think through how we describe the simplest things, i.e., “He roared with laughter,” as opposed to “He laughed loudly.” A laugh’s just a laugh, but when you determine how the reader hears it in his/her mind, you’re contributing to the mood – and thus the effectiveness – of the entire scene.

Your novel’s not just interesting things happening to interesting people. It’s making the reader part of the story. We have to create that sense of engagement and when we create the proper mood, your reader’s step from reader to participant in the story is no longer a leap of faith. It’s a dance into your party.

Look out! Here it is. First weekend of the New Year. Fiscal cliffs and Mayan hobgoblins averted. For a while, anyhow. And isn’t that how it always works out?
“Doom! Doom! The apocalypse is on us!”
“What? Where?”
“Too late, pal; came and left while you were stuttering.”
Happens all the time. So many people are running around pumping us up for imminent destruction that when we get broadsided by honest bad news, we’re caught with our thumb in our ear and a mouthful of dumb question. Or, better yet, wailing to the world that “I trusted him.” Or her – your call. And wise up, while you’re choosing if it was a him or her. If you didn’t trust the louse that busted you up, he or she couldn’t have gotten to you, right?

So 2013’s the same world we had yesterday. And last week, month, etc. We keep on keeping on. And ain’t it grand? Life’s good. It’s a test, a challenge, and sometimes a solid mess, but we’re still here and we’re handling anything it throws at us. I mean, come on – I’m sitting here looking out the window at a day as grim as a marked deck, but I can get off my butt, tell Carol to bundle up, yell for the Terrible dog and we can head for the beach. We’ll get some fresh air, watch all manner of birds. laugh at the Terrible dog trying to inhale every scent in western Washington, and just be glad we’re here together.

It ain’t much, but it’s way enough.

I was reading about asking folks for reviews. Lots of negatives and positives, mostly about asking family and friends. Really, for someone breaking into the game, there’s not much choice. Since Amazon pays a lot of attention to the number of reviews, rather than the identity of the reviewers, it devolves into something of a numbers game. That fact notwithstanding, what I’ve noticed is that a great many beginning writers confuse a posted review with a critique. A review from a reader implies an amateur who’s responding to the book. A review from an established author or a professional (or semi-professional) reviewer implies a much deeper evaluation. When an author asks friends and family for a review, it’s almost certainly going to be a cautious evaluation – and glowing. Still and all, in the world of self-publishing and audience-driven electronic reviews, that numbers game fact won’t go away. 

The other option is to pay for reviews. I don’t know, but I’d assume that means generally favorable comments. After all, who pays to be insulted? Newspaper and magazines that review books – and I’ve done the work  – get a nominal fee. And the author gets a serious evaluation. The services that’ll review your self-published book for a price may or may not know what they’re talking about.

In the end, it’s a matter of self-promotion and your willingness to ask for help in the matter. A review’s not a critique. At bottom, the whole idea of a review’s so subjective it boggles the mind. My suggestion? Scuffle for the reviews you feel you need any way you can. And never forget two things – we’re caught up in a chase for numbers and you’re the only person who’s allowed to change anything you write. I don’t care who reads the work and says otherwise.    

Elmore Leonard said something like, If you pick up a book and it starts with someone talking about the weather, put it down. That may not be one of the million or so Golden Rules applied to writing, but it’s a good thing to remember. Many of us (Guilty, Your Honor) work hard to set a scene and a tone in the first lines of a novel. Unfortunately, we’re seeing it and involved in it and not many readers care. Climate and environment may influence a character, but the reader’s interest will always demand character, not necessarily those things that contribute to his or her mannerisms. In fact, it’s the writer’s job to illustrate what makes a character  – and in such a way that the reader is attracted or repelled. Weather and environment, in general, are poor carriers of that need unless they contribute to the tension and suspense of the novel. In those cases where they do that, they can become key. We have Erik Larsen’s Isaac’s Storm to exemplify the point. The characters in the novel who frustrate the protagonist are practically subordinate to the hurricane itself – which remains offstage most of the time. Anyone can learn from his work how to weave an external element into a story so seamlessly that it becomes a living creature. Check it out.

So, as writers, it becomes pretty obvious that we can, indeed, do something about the weather. Just as we can warp time to suit our story, so can we wave briskly and bring on tide, storm, or spring zephyr. The thing is, we have to remember that not many readers are tuned in to our work to read rhapsodic descriptions that don’t serve the purpose of the story. It’s too bad we can’t actually do something about this global warming thing. Unless we can write stories that bring to life the hardships that change is going to inflict on the world. Maybe then someone will take the political and economic steps to eliminate or alleviate it. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Every writer I know has a different approach to how to get the job done. What that tells me is what everyone already knows; writers are the very definition of individual. I see no reason to pursue the notion that “eccentric” and “individual” suggest a common basis. Anyway, as Ellen DeGeneris says, I need some signs of life around me while I work. I never tried the coffee-shop gig. Between drinking and un-drinking (if you will), I don’t see how I’d get much done. And I need a window so I can see outside. Without looking outside at least occasionally, how can you be sure you haven’t actually created a world? And you’re actually living in it? Think about that for a while. And then there’s sound. That coffee shop’s going to explode from time to time. That guy with the wheezing laugh that sounds like bad comedy Heimlich time. Or the lady on the cell with the schmuck boyfriend. Yeah, her – the one who deserves it. What could be more disruptive?

Enter Pandora. Not only do I get great white noise to blot out my dog barking or the neighbor’s leaf blower, chain saw, lawnmower, hedge trimmer, patio-block saw (If it plugs in or burns gasoline, my neighbor has one. Maybe two.). Pandora brings me artists who aren’t that readily available. I speak, of course, of R. Crumb and His Cheap Suit Serenaders. Or the inimitable Leon Redbone. And where else can you expect to catch Snooks Eglin wailing St. James Infirmary Blues?  Or what about Pink Anderson?  “…got a house full of chillun ain’t none of ’em mine” If that can’t spur you to tales of pathos and woe, what’s it take? Ah, but the instrumentalists, who totally blot out everything but rhythm, syncopation, melody. Maybe they won’t always contribute to mood, but they’ll sure hold out anything that might intrude on the one you’ve created. As I said, we’re all different – perhaps in more telling ways than we’ll admit – and ain’t it grand?

Scanning through the FB stuff the other day and noticed that Terry Brooks has an anniversary re-release coming. It’s the 35th  anniversary of The Sword of Shannara’s first appearance. It’s an annotated volume, and I couldn’t help thinking it’s a gotta-have for Terry’s fans. The thing is, it’s plenty more than that. It’s affirmation of a grand career. The commercial aspect of that career sort of goes without saying; trainloads of books are involved. What many people don’t know, however, is how Terry’s used his success to mentor others. He’s worked at more writers conferences than I can count. He doesn’t go there to push the product. He goes there because he wants to help aspiring writers reach their goals. Because he constantly pushes himself to improve, he’s a taskmaster. Everyone who’s watched him work has learned to anticipate the Terrybomb. When things don’t go right, he’ll let you know. Clearly. To all of you who read his work, never forget he’s a fine teacher, a man who reaches out to others. When you know that, as I do, it adds a warmth to his writing that makes it so much the better.

Check out the anniversary issue. Add it to your collection. I will.

Incidentally – that FB posting I mentioned? It was put up by Shawn Speakman, a fine writer in his own right. If you like Terry’s work, you might want to check out The Dark Thorn. First rate.

I looked at a blog site yesterday that featured a writer’s comments about submitting work to agents and editors. The writer said many of them seemed testy about things like grammar and punctuation.

Doh!

It’s hard to imagine where some of these people live. Or how. Let’s get something striaght, however. If you write so well that a professional evaluator of writing and storytelling is willing to slog through unprofessional wreckage to find out how the story ends, you’ll be recognized. In time. In spite of your determination to add to your undoubtedly impressive pile of rejections. Consider: If you hired someone to repair your sickly tv and he or she opened a toolbox and pulled out a tire iron and a hacksaw, would you consider waiting to see how that story ended? If you want to see your work published – or if you want to have people read your self-published work – you have to be as professional as possible. It’s not a question of people being forgiving. The point is, you owe it to any reader to provide an experience they’ll enjoy. I can’t believe that anyone who has the talent and tenacity to create a story can’t learn how to punctuate it. Similarly, you can argue that grammar changes; all language does. But if you don’t write language that engages your readers, you’ll lose them. This is particularly true of narrative, and it can absolutely destroy first-person narrative. Some readers will tolerate or even welcome dialogue that butchers the language because it fits the character. When that character holds center stage throughout the book, you may be in trouble. And you’ll always be in trouble if you don’t take the time to proofread and change “your” to “you’re” where necessary. It’s true the devil’s in the details. If your writing ignores the details, be assured, you’ve got a devil of a problem.

I got an email from a friend a while back, a fine writer, who was worried about burnout. It scared me. This was a person who kicked on publishing’s door for years. The perseverance, hard work, and accumulated craftsmanship finally paid off – big time. With that came what we can call the penalties of success. The pressure of deadlines, the constant need to hustle sales, the everyday demands on one’s time that cut into writing production – all those things and more are a constant presence. They drain one’s resources, both physical and psychological. I know, I know – every unpublished author dreams of having those problems. I certainly did. So what can we do about it? My friend simply buckled down and got back to work. A couple of weeks after the disturbing email the ship was righted, back on course, and making excellent headway.

That’s it.

As a writer – or an artist of any other description – you’re the ultimate entrepreneur. The whole shebang starts and ends in that gray goo between your ears. That takes courage. I honestly don’t believe there’s a better word for it. You condition yourself to confront the world on your own terms to express your own thoughts. Sure, we need editors and supporters and, if we’re self-confident enough, we learn from our critics and detractors. But you’re the final arbiter. You’re the initiator and you’re the only one who can bring the project to a satisfactory conclusion. If you break down under the weight of demands, disappointments, distractions, and the inevitable rejection that comes with our craft, you can’t win. Be like my friend; get back to work. The sign in the locker room says Winners never quit, Quitters never win. You can pay a shrink a fortune and not get any better advice.

Made a couple of pies yesterday – one plum, one pear. Used a store-bought crust, but intend to learn to make my own. We had a huge plum crop this year. This is the second pie. I didn’t even know you could make pies with them. All those wasted years. Turns out they’re delicious. And making the pie’s simplicity itself. Now we’ll see about the next menu item – I’ve got a recipe for mashed beans and rice in pita bread. I don’t do a lot of veg dinners. When I do I tend to feature beans. Love ’em. I could live a long time on Boston Baked Beans and Cuban Black Bean Soup. How come it’s the ordinary stuff that keeps calling us back to the table?

My place. Everyone needs a place to just sound off. Vent, if you prefer. Or muse. Cogitate’s a nice six-bit word. As near as I can tell, it means to sit back, unwind, think deep, cosmic thoughts. Like who invented chunky peanut butter. And why? Or what makes spinach stick to your teeth? How does spinach know how to fasten onto front teeth and ignore all the others? Does it think? Are we in danger?

Sometimes I’m going to get on some serious stuff. I’m so wound up about our continuing involvement in all things Middle East I can spit like a welding torch. I’m sick of a Wall Street culture that steals money through phony “instruments” so they can buy even phonier Congressman. I’m tired of reading labels on my food because I know people are putting stuff in there that’ll kill cancer if you’ve got it and give it to you if you don’t. I’m up to my limit with political correctness: It’s a manhole cover, people. Own it.

I don’t argue religion. Or politics.

Mostly I’ll be talking about writing. Writing’s what I do. It’s my passion. I’ll be posting tips and gems from other authors, as well as links to author pages. I’ll be digging into any site I think is interesting or helpful to folks like me. What’s that mean? Who are those folks? Those who write because it’s a need. I really don’t care about defining success. The approval of others is fine. It’s not a necessity. Personal satisfaction is.

There are probably a couple million blogs out there. If you find your way onto this one, I hope we’ll get acquainted, shoot the breeze a bit. Can’t offer you a cup of coffee, but I’m sure the tech wizards are on it. Cream and sugar?