Crickets and the Muse

By Molly Field

We were told this month to set out to offend someone (anyone) in our posts for the sake of engagement. This is a desperate attempt to get you, someone who's never commented on this blog before, to do the seemingly impossible: tell us what you think.

click here to hear some of your previous comments.

So I'm just going for it; this is totally full of non-sequiturs, so enjoy the ... whatever.

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In an effort to prove to us that you have a pulse, working eyes, hands that can type, and that you're not a Chinese hacker and that you might disagree with anything I might say, I'm going to entice your wrath and write about the most devious of codependencies: how my writing benefits when someone's life is in the crapper.

If it's your life: I need it to stay there so I can write a story based on it without your permission. Because the more you stay asleep to the desperate existence you're hanging onto by a diaphanous thread, the better my content, the richer my dialogue, the tighter my story. The more asleep and blasé you are all the time, the better for sociopaths opportunists creatives like me.

I have someone in my life whom I've decided likes loves to feel sorry for itself. I'm going write in a  gender neutral fashion or ich können sogar auf Deutsch und Sie benutzen das dritte Geschlecht, aber nein, ich will nicht*.

"Lesley's" rants are exhausting. This perforated, yo-yo height, hermaphrodite, Slavic cat dresser friend of mine likes to fixate on the bad, drink too much, dress in charcoal gray, talk about death and sadness, and listen to The Cure, Nickelback, and Laura Branigan songs and also watch John Waters movies in the dark.

It's bad. "Lesley" needs help. And the name is all of it, the quotations included; its parents were new to the country when they adopted it from Illinois.

But I'm so torn!

"Lesley" is my muse for my main character, Chester Feltentooth! S/he's the pro/pre/ant-agonist (emphasis on agony) in my upcoming novel, People Who Should Have Stopped Trying: The Story of Potters in the Rain, out this summer by Too Bad So Sad press, a joint venture imprint of Cosmopolitan Magazine and Penzoil. Illustrations by Charles Addams and "The Family Circus" are blatantly stolen without any regard to copyright laws whatsoever.

Why so venom on poor "Lesley," Molly? Because I'm in a mood.

But I'm also in a tight spot... I mean, if "Lesley" wakes up and changes and improves its life, then where goes my muse? My fodder for my book? My manna for my novel? It's like this: I want "Lesley" to be just bad off enough to continue to live so I can steal its life for my story, but that's it. Any somatic improvement will knock this book off the best-seller's list.

So I tell this person "Lesley," "You need help! You should take better care of yourself!" (While I walk it back into its dark house, inspect its mail for cash, throw away its bills, and guide it back to its cage. As its back is turned, I rest a case of Mad Dog 20/20 with bendy straws on its cage-side table, where I've tactfully replaced its clock and lamp with a carton of unfiltered Lucky Strikes next to my a sad clown Zippo lighter and play Carole King songs on repeat shuffle.)

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Why? Because I'm a selfish, craven, unimaginative deviant who needs content and my brain is too jacked up on antibiotics from my gonorrhea strep throat, that's why.

I asked our fearless leader Carrie earlier,

"Are you serious about wanting to offend our readers? Because I'm about to let the snarling, scratching, feral, hissing, and rabid backwater cat out of its tattered burlap sack outside a Kinder Care," 

and she said this (after calling her lawyer):

Ultimately, you've got to decide what you want your name on. Don't worry about the site's reputation. If you feel that it would be helpful, write a foreword to the article that serves as a sort of disclaimer to prepare the readers for a change in tone and give it some context. 

How does that sound?  

How does that sound?! I'll tell you. It sounds like a cop out. (Just kidding, Carrie, I love you.)

So to all you mayonnaise chocolate cake eaters in your three-day-old pajamas, by all means: keep it up. I need you to maintain or elevate the lachrymose in your life so that I can finish my book. Hang out more with your toddler-pageant judges and repo friends! But if you suddenly run out of 20/20, call me you do want progress, and you really mean it -- give me the names and addresses of your toddler-pageant judges and repo friends because I need them. But think about the arts first. We need you.

However, change is hard. So if that second hour without a crisis in your life is too much, definitely consider dwelling in the past, do moan over things you can't change, and keep on licking those wounds, because as we all know: no wound gets better unless you fester over it and lick the hell out of it, just ask my coonhound "Gunther," who's now on his fifth round of antibiotics and steroid injections.

And don't even consider trying to write your own book. Only losers write their own books; here's a white zinfandel slushy, give your story to me. Want some pork rinds? Well, I just so happen to have some... right next to the VCR. Do you smoke? Is it me or is it too bright in here?

I can't say this any better than veteran New Yorker cartoonist, Roz Chast in the April 15, 2013, issue:

So... do you have any comments for me? Who's your muse? Want some 20/20?

*I can even go German on you and use the third gender, but no, I won't.

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Where To Start? How About The End?

by Rob Hines

When a recent BoingBoing.net article about Pixar’s Rules for Storytelling floated through the Peevish Penman Twittersphere, one rule in particular hit home especially as I've been thinking about springtime and New Beginnings:

#7: Come up with your ending before you figure out your middle. Seriously. Endings are hard, get yours working up front.

The article also reminded me of a TED Talks presentation about storytelling delivered by Andrew Stanton, a Pixar writer who worked on mega-ultra-hits like Toy Story and Finding Nemo. In his speech, Stanton says very simply, “Storytelling is joke telling. It's knowing your punchline, your ending, knowing that everything you're saying, from the first sentence to the last, is leading to a singular goal, and ideally confirming some truth that deepens our understandings of who we are as human beings.”

Is that my time in that bag?

He’s right. Having a solid and well crafted ending will ensure that your entire story means something and your audience will be engaged throughout, just like telling a joke. We've all been the victim of a horrible joke teller who goes through a long, drawn-out set-up only to bomb at the end. Not only is everyone in the room suddenly uncomfortable, but you've all lost precious minutes of your lives. It’s thievery, I tell you! Well Writers, I hate to dump this on you, but we’re just as guilty of Grand Theft Time when we pull people into a story only to disappoint with a lackluster finish. Never fear! The brilliant minds at Pixar are guiding us to the answer. 

Start at The End.

Just as Andrew Stanton says, everything you write has to move you closer to a certain point, so why not start by establishing that destination? If I know I want my character to have a major cathartic moment at the end of my story, I can better determine who he or she is at the beginning. While I usually have no problem coming up with some basic traits of my characters (snarky, charming, naive, etc.), I often start writing them a bit wishy-washy because I’m too timid about where the characters may or may not go as the story proceeds. Long story short, I don’t have the cajones to push the envelope because I don’t have a clue where the story is going. By establishing where I want to see the character and/or situation end up, I can feel okay with getting a little crazy as I write.

A perfect example (and the one that’s imprinted in my brain now, thanks to my son) is Lightning McQueen from the Pixar movie Cars. If you haven’t seen this flick for a while, or ever, find it. It’s not bad. It’s not my favorite Pixar movie (see The Incredibles) but I've warmed to it after about a hundred viewings. In fact, watching the movie several times helped me see this strategy come to life.

Of course, I probably could have figured it out with just 3 or 4, but I think it really hit home after 89 or so.

Anyway, watch Cars a couple times start to finish, then skip ahead and just watch the last half-hour before going back to watch the beginning. You’ll see the vast difference between the brash, arrogant, and selfish Lighting McQueen in the opening scenes and the humble and considerate McQueen that has learned the value of friendship and teamwork.

Yeah, it’s hokey, but this is Disney we’re talking about. I’m sure your writing will be a bit more edgy and a little less “Barney and Friends.” Regardless, the lesson is still the same. Pixar could have been much more conservative in how they presented Lightning at the beginning of the movie, especially considering he’s the protagonist that the audience is supposed to adore. As we know, it’s hard to make your hero a jerk, but they knew where he was going. They knew he’d be making a dramatic shift that would bring the audience on board. This knowledge gave them the confidence to make Lightning a pretty distasteful dude for nearly all of the movie. He doesn't totally reveal his character change until just minutes before the film ends, when he helps the veteran racer cross the finish line, giving up fame and fortune in the process. Starting at the end has helped Pixar make movies that engage adults as much as our children, if not more, because they can present truly dynamic characters in a way we’re not used to seeing in traditional family movies. Billions of dollars in sales proves that it’s a solid storytelling device.

Convinced? If not, here’s another benefit to starting at the end. How many times have you started writing a story, only to get frustrated because you hit a wall and can’t figure out where it’s going?

1...2...3...4... Sorry, I was counting the times that’s happened to me, but I don’t have time to count them all so I’ll continue my thought.

If you’re able to write your ending first (even it needs to change later) you don’t have that burden hanging over your head later. You have a goal and you’re simply pushing closer to that ending with every page. Even writing this paragraph just made me feel better.

Feeling giddy yet? I know I am. When I think about the freedom of writing a story with an ending waiting for me, it makes me so much more excited about the writing process. As long as I keep moving closer to that destination, I can take fun and exciting risks along the way, and isn't that why we all love writing in the first place?

The End

(or is it the beginning?)

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End of The Year: Decide! Execute! Finish! ... Start?

By Molly Field

The cleaning ladies are here. Which means I can't really think because they're being generally awesome and vacuuming my lair.

No matter, we will press ahead and see how this post turns out, right? Steady on your horses, friends, there's unknown territory ahead. 

I am having an issue (God, that vacuum is reeeeeally loud, I think it's got a Lego loaf or my kid's Millennium Falcon in its rotors) with perspective and point of view in the book that I have decided to go back to writing. This decision is almost a 180˚ (I'd like to think of it more as a 168.5˚) turn from my previous stance of believing that all my written works must be authentic, real and not fiction. Well, if politicians can lie (the vacuum is right behind me now, the floor is humming and this is hard to write) so can I; I can lie too. 

My former boss, and current friend, Liam Callanan, wrote a book, All Saints, from the point of view as a former teacher (I almost wrote 'former female nun,' now that would've cranked up some editors' eyebrows now wouldn't it've? How many more times can I say 'now' in the same sentence? And 'it've'?? Who talks like that?!) at a beachfront Catholic school. It was a brilliant book and I absolutely loved it. And Liam's a man; always has been. He was never a former female or a nun, so I've got room here, to y'know, do what I want. 

The problem is: the first, oh, 75,000 words all of this book I'm going to get back to very soon (and I'm not saying 'real soon' as if I mean 'oh, y'know after I win the lottery and build my parents a ficus tree terrarium made of sapphires...' 'cause I've already said that) are all written in 3rd person narrative, interrupted at times with 1st person thoughts and observations from the protagonist. I swear I've seen this whole 1st person interruptus done before... where was it? ... Oh, yes, I don't recall never. So, maybe because I've not taken a writing class since college (that was last year, I'm 23 - FIRST LIE! hooyeah, this feels good!) it's not the best technique? But this is the 21st century, baby... it's all good. Recreational use of pot is legal in two states now.

I've got this. 

Not really. 

What I do 'got' is 195 pages of perhaps the wrong perspective. I say 'wrong' because I'm finally OK with writing this book as a mostly fictionalized memoir  (is 'fictionalized memoir' even a genre? Did I just create a new genre? Well... this is the age of do whatever you want) and if I really want to be authentic, I could just crank it out as a book from me about me by me for both of me. What to do... what to do...? I have plans...

I plan to get back to the book within a few days to get a jump on the new year. I'm waiting until 12/12/12 ends so that my efforts won't be a complete waste of time if the Mayans are right about that end of the world thing. Oh, you can joke all you want... but isn't just one teensy bit of you curious if they're right?

I think they're wrong: I have Egg Nog that is good until 12/12/12 (but look at the time stamp... that's hedging it awfully close, don't you think?) next to whole milk which just y'know, GOES for it and doesn't expire until the 17th. That whole milk has cojones; it knows who it is.

This is what the end of the year world year thing does to me. I'm not big on the hype of New Year's resolutions, so I think I'm beating myself to the punch and causing as much angst about the whole thing before I even get started. I need to be like that whole milk: just go for it. 

Readers: what do you think about in terms of reading a book from its point of view? Do you like to hear from "me" or from "him" or "she" or ... "thems"? (Jusssst checking to see if you're still with me.) 

A couple friends have vocally stated they prefer 1st person and I see their point: they feel it's more relatable, more intimate and they get sucked in (like a vacuum). But then there's this part of me that says, 'No, write as a detached observer'; but then I'm nervous that the whole thing I've got going on with my character's thoughts and observations is like a giant vacuum in the room: distracting, loud, fantastical, awesome and hot...

I'm re-reading Life of Pi right now and I find the whole experience -- from the author's notes in the beginning to the entire structure of the book -- to be slightly off-putting in that it's so in-your-face fiction. All of it: I'm caught in that familiar, yet ancient place from "The Wizard of Oz" - where Dorothy wakes up and the child in me believes what she did: that she went on a yellow brick road with a talking lion and living tin man and scare crow to see a floating head, aw c'mon... who am I kidding?; and the adult in me believes what the adults did: that she was smokin' crack. It was Judy Garland... 

But when it first came out, I loved Life of Pi. So the problem is me. I need to stop being such a realist. I love fiction. I think my problem... is guilt. More of that next time. Maybe.  

Serve The Story

by Clark Brooks

Clark delivers this advice to writers with the speed, wit, and candor of the stand up comic and demonstrates the impact of a defined writer's voice.

The best advice I ever got for writing was actually given to me as an actor and that is to SERVE THE STORY. Don't waste your readers time with clever phrasing and flowery speech that doesn't move things along. That's not clever and flowery. It's self-indulgent and annoying. It's like a crop duster doing aerial loops. It might be fun for you but you're getting pesticide all over the place.

Okay, maybe not, but you get the idea. Respect your readers; you come to them with a story to tell and they've given you their attention so you can tell it. So dust the damn crops already.

Here's an example. It's from acting, but I think you'll see the relevance. I was in a community theatre production of a Neil Simon play with a guy who decided he was going to incorporate some business into a scene, a shout-out to his favorite college football team. If you're trying to think of a Neil Simon play that has anything at all to do with college football, don't bother because there aren't any. "Why would you do that?", I asked. "Because I have some buddies coming tonight and they'll get a kick out of it", he said. "That is a terrible idea. There's going to be a couple hundred people here and you're going to take them all out of the story so you can get a laugh out of a couple of your drinking buddies?" "Well, nobody said anything when Tanya added that bit where she has trouble sitting in a chair." "That's because it's funny. Her character is an idiot. Struggling to figure out how to sit in a chair illustrates that point. And everybody gets that. On stage in front of an audience is exactly not the place to share inside jokes with your pals." "Well, I'm doing it anyway." I knew he would. And he did. And if you've ever wondered what it sounds like when 200 people who are laughing at a Neil Simon romantic comedy are suddenly force-fed a line from the University of Michigan fight song for no reason whatsoever, it sounds a lot like the kind of complete silence you imagine exists in deep space. Cold, empty and dead. Nobody laughed, including the boob's buddies, who might have left early...if they even showed up.

So SERVE THE STORY. Get rid of anything that doesn't fit that credo. It doesn't mean you have to boil everything down to the point that it reads like a police report of a minor traffic accident. Your audience wants to be entertained. By all means, take time in describing environments in great detail. Give your characters quirky habits. Even make one of them a University of Michigan fan...as long as you SERVE THE STORY. If you come up with something that doesn't, even if you think it's the greatest thing you or anybody else has ever written, get rid of it. This will require you to be honest about your work, but that's a discipline you'll want to develop anyway and this is as good a way as any to do so.

SERVE THE STORY!

Visit Clark Brooks at the Ridiculously Inconsistent Trickle of Consciousness