Author: tboone

  • F’ing Insufficient

    When I initially started thinking about this week’s post, I had every intention of writing about the same mundane roadblocks that many writer’s face: the distractions of television and the internet, the necessity of work, keeping up with household chores, taking care of kids/pets/whatever, etc. It would have been quite the exciting post, let me tell you!

    Then I wrote my Worry Wart post, discussing what topics inspire my writing. And I realized while writing that post that Fear is not only a common theme for my writing, it’s also the most common theme for my not-writing. I write about things that worry me, but I worry that what I write isn’t good enough, and that prevents me from writing. Ugh.

    Then, fortuitously, I read a post over at Penny Arcade from Jerry Holkins that seemed to crystalize my thoughts on this topic perfectly. The post wasn’t necessarily about writing, but about any creative venture (in this particular case, DMing a role-playing tabletop game). In the post, Holkins notes that, when soliciting public opinion on your creative works, there is always the worry that the author, “Does not have it. The suspicion. There’s a way to find out, of course, but this carries with it the danger of verification.”

    And there it is.

    How do you find out if you’re writing is good enough? You put it out there and let people be the judge. Unfortunately, there is always the risk that, as you’ve secretly feared, your writing is NOT good enough. And rather than face harsh, soul-crushing judgment, sometimes it feels easier to not submit anything for evaluation in the first place. (more…)

  • Worry Wart

    I write about things that worry me.

    When I think about the stories I’ve written over the years, the common theme is:

    • Flawed characters
    • Struggling to overcome a societal issue
      • usually caused by overreliance or abuse of technology
      • sometimes caused by scientific hubris
      • often compounded by environmental collapse
      • often a result of overcrowding and/or overuse of natural resources

    Why do I write stories that deal with these types of issues? Because these questions and concerns are the ones that plague me every day. How can humankind sustain itself given the rapid depletion of natural resources we’re currently experiencing? Can technology provide solutions? If so, can it do so quickly enough to halt or reverse the damage we’ve done already? And will there be unintended consequences to our corrective actions? As a teacher of technology, I’m constantly bombarded by the wonderful advancements we’re making in science and industry. I’m also constantly struck by how much harm many of those advancements can cause, either directly or tangentially. And it worries me.

    I love science fiction, and one of the major reasons why is that, as an author, I can choose to answer the questions above any way I see fit. I can (and usually do) choose to provide salvation for my characters and the planet on which they reside – a light at the end of the tunnel. Usually that light is much too faint for my characters to see at the beginning of their journey, hidden in the far distance behind many twists and turns. And more often than not when they return from their subterranean adventures, blinking and confused, they’re nowhere near where they expected to be. But sometimes, just making it back to the surface and breathing fresh air again is enough.

    Because, frankly, sometimes I feel like the real world’s not going to be so lucky.

    As for whether or not any particular people I know make it into my stories, the short answer is: sure. Not exact copies, but caricatures of friends, family, and coworkers sneak into my stories all the time. More telling is that my protagonists are almost always some shade of myself. Given that my main characters are often trying to save the world from imminent destruction, who wouldn’t want to be cast in that role, at least in some small part? I’m guessing that’s true of most authors, and authors that deny it aren’t being completely truthful.

    So, returning to a common writing mantra: I write what I know. What I know is what worries me, how I feel about it, and what I wish I could do about it. That’s what (and why) I write.

  • Do as I say, not as I do

    I’m a bad boy, apparently (In the world of NaNoWriMo. Which doesn’t make the “bad boy” title all that interesting. It’s like being the coolest kid at the comic book store: there isn’t that much competition). I do things during November that are frowned upon by the NaNo Powers-That-Be (myself included). I’m a rule-breaker. Who woulda thunk it?

    What’s my crime? I edit while I write.

    It’s a terrible example to set for my fellow November novelists. Editing during the writing process only serves to slow you down, and that’s not what NaNo is about. But I do it anyway. I can’t help it. I tweak, I twist, I tinker. I worry over words, and turns of phrase, and paragraph structure. Every day I re-read the previous day’s work and make adjustments. Sometime I go back even further to add, remove, and rearrange. While some people write linearly, my process is constantly looping and evolving as I progress through the story.

    The result, luckily for me, is a pretty bad-ass first draft.

    Unfortunately, it’s also where the brakes typically engage, completely interrupting the creative process. My first draft, while good, is never perfect (wouldn’t that be something?) and yet I find it very challenging to tear it down and build it back up. It’s like remodeling a perfectly functional house because the flow’s not quite right: some people could easily do that, knocking down walls and rearranging the kitchen appliances. I, however, see a functional house first, and can usually only bring myself to slap a new coat of paint on it (spelling and grammar, or word choice tweaking), or, occasionally, and with great reluctance, removing extraneous stuff. Actual structural changes? Like reframing a character or altering the plotline? Nuh uh. Not up for that.

    It’s perverse, actually, that having an effective process for writing a first draft is actually a handicap when I move on to the editing process. One would think I would learn from previous years, and realize that perhaps I should spend less time editing during my writing, and save it for the actual editing stage.

    One would be wrong, of course.

    Though, actually, thinking about it, things may be looking up with this year’s manuscript. I think it’s a function of a) being incredibly busy during the initial writing process, and b) never really feeling all that attached to the story. At the time of the initial draft, I was disappointed by both of those factors: I didn’t really love my story, and I didn’t have enough time to dedicate to it to get it to a loveable state. Now, however, I feel more free to make the drastic changes that drafts deserve. Need to nix a scene or two? No problem. Character attitude needs a one-eighty? You betcha.

    So, something new. An opportunity for structural editing, due to indifference about the initial process. Odd. All that said, I’m still not done with either the initial draft or the first edit, which are happening in a hodge-podge whenever I can spare the time. But I’m hopeful that, with time, I might end up with a more polished and saleable product at the end of the day. Time will tell.

  • Gibson (Flash Fiction)

    The guitar was a gift on my fifteenth birthday. It was my only gift. Mother, a proper Parisian matron, didn’t approve. A frivolous request, she called it. Her view was justified—I could barely play guitar, and my historical commitment to investing in any singular hobby had proven ephemeral, at best. But my mother’s dismissiveness only served to further encourage my desire to possess the guitar, and with stubbornness only an adolescent can possess, I insisted that no other gift would suffice. So I devised a plan.

    Normally, I would have expected my father’s response to my birthday request to have been a flat no, his lack of emotional involvement providing none the same traction as my mother’s disgusted denial. Lately, however, my father was willing to adopt contrarian positions with my mother for no other reason than the power play that would inevitably ensue. I knew this, and I used it. I played up the universal need of men to possess beautiful tools and machines. And I emphasized how mother couldn’t possibly sympathize with our shared primal instincts. My father, unable to resist the opportunity to exert his parochial control, convinced my mother to let him purchase the guitar for me, despite her strenuous objections.

    It was the best birthday gift I ever received.

    Two weeks later, my parents announced their divorce.

    I wasn’t surprised by their separation. But I felt responsible for accelerating their inescapable end. I was incapable of admitting my guilt to either of them. Instead, I radiated palpable waves of anger and resentment, and walled myself off from the world with music. I plugged in my headphones into my guitar amp and plucked my new Les Paul from dusk to dawn, letting my blossoming ability as a guitarist ease my guilt and pain.

    My father left without ever speaking another word to me. His silence wasn’t a measure of blame, necessarily, but that’s how I took it. It took me years to forgive him. By then, it was too late to reconcile. He’d passed away.

    My mother never let me forget my part in their end. And the guitar I clung to with increasing desperation was a clear, physical symbol of my selfish, manipulative nature. Like a dowsing rod, the instrument kept tugging me towards the door, away from the relentless blame. Just weeks after my father left, I’d had enough as well. In the middle of the night I packed a bag with my tiny amp and a few changes of clothes. I slung the bag over one shoulder and my guitar across the other, and I left.

    Those first years on the roads of the French countryside were hard, but simple. I traveled lightly, begging for whatever food, shelter, and company I could find. The guitar strapped to my back served as a badge of sorts, automatically affording me entry to a cabal of like-minded bohemian musicians spending their time on the road. Visiting with these folks, my ability with my guitar quickly grew, and I began to use my music as a means to earn a living. There were still many long winter nights spent strumming power chords through my tiny amp, waiting for enough money to be tossed into my case so I could afford a baguette and a train ticket to the next town. But sometimes my skills earned me a spot playing backup for a local band or playing at a neighborhood coffee shop. Those days I could afford a bed at a hostel and a warm meal.

    I met Marie during one of my jaunts across the Channel into London. I heard her reciting poetry at an open mic night at a bookstore, and afterwards waited outside for her to leave. She didn’t. Turned out she owned the shop and lived upstairs. She found me asleep on the stoop the next morning and took pity on me. Two cups of coffee later, I was in love. Marie seemed intrigued by the idea of rescuing me, much like a stray alley cat.

    I spent three years in London. Marie and I had a beautiful baby girl, Josephine. I retired from my guitar-slinging days and tried my hand at settling down, working in the bookstore with Marie and taking care of our daughter. It was a good time in my life. But eventually the restlessness that had begun with my flight from home began tugging at me once more. I found myself drawn once more to the Gibson I’d stored in the closet. I’d sneak down the hallway at night to take out the Gibson, and I’d strum it softly for Josephine while she slept. But I always made sure to put it away before the night was through.

    Until one night I didn’t. Marie woke up to find me sitting at the kitchen table, the guitar and its case propped up in the seat next to me.

    “Go,” was all Marie said. She might’ve smiled. I’ve never been sure.

    It’s been many long years since my fifteenth birthday. Mama’s still alive. She frets away her final days in a tiny apartment just outside Paris. I stop in on her sometimes when I’m playing in the city or I’m in between jobs, but my visits seem to confuse and upset her. I don’t know if she always recognizes me. She may think I’m a scam artist there to steal from her.

    Not much has changed since my first days on the road. I’ve got a few more wrinkles, but no more wisdom.

    Sometimes, late at night, I peer along the frets and headstock of the guitar, as if looking across the bow of a great ship, and wonder where it will lead me. But I know better. It’s merely a musical instrument. There is no rudder of fate to guide my travels. I point myself in any direction, and off I go, my instrument slung carelessly across my back.

    Just an instrument. A vessel. Nothing more.

  • Plot > Character (But both matter. A lot.)

    Plot is more important to me than character. Without a plot, there is no story. Without a story, what the heck are we doing? Character sketches are well and good, but I’m more interested in the voyage, not the people traveling with me.

    That said, terrible characters can ruin a good plot, while interesting characters can totally save a horrible plot. You definitely need a good mix of both to have a successful story.

    As a SF guy, I’m probably more tolerant of plot-driven, character-poor stories. If the story uses lots of
    whiz-bang technology that bends (or breaks) the laws of physics, and those plot points are illustrated to me, the reader, via wooden, two-dimensional characters…I’ll still probably dig it. I’m in it for the pseudo-science as much as anything else. Other genres may not allow for the level of forgiveness I sometimes mete out to the books I read.

    That said, the truly memorable, interesting, recommend-to-everyone-you-know stories are the ones
    with whiz-bang technology wielded by kick-ass characters. So, Permutation City by Greg Egan manages to bend my noodle with its technology, but its characters are only “meh.” On the other hand, Altered Carbon by Richard K. Morgan manages to wed far-future tech with a hard-as-nails detective Takeshi Kovacs, and the combination results in a story I’ve shared with anyone that’ll listen. Likewise, John Scalzi’s Old Man’s War combines neato tech with a fascinating set of characters, and the final product is nearly perfect.

    So, Plot comes first for me. But Character is almost as important, especially when you want to elevate a good story into a great story.

  • What’s taboo? What’s bannable? What’s in good taste?

    I am behind schedule for this week’s blog post, so instead of wrapping my ideas in a clever structure, I’m just going to address this week’s questions head-on. I know, it’s a bold choice. That’s just how I roll.

    Commence the Answering of Questions!

    What’s taboo in literature:

    Nothing. I denounce censorship in almost every form, and I welcome authors to write about any subject. That doesn’t mean that I won’t personally find certain topics to be uninteresting, or distasteful, or downright abhorrent. However, I learned a long time ago, even without the advantage of Middle Ages Tech Support, that if I don’t like a book, I CAN STOP READING IT. Just like I’m able to turn off the television (or, even better, change the channel) when I don’t like a program.

    Is banning books ever appropriate?

    I can’t think of a single scenario where a book should be banned. Researching this question, I discovered that the American Library Association notes, “Books are usually banned with the best intentions—to protect others, frequently children, from difficult ideas and information” (see this site for more info).

    Should children be guided through (or steered away from) certain materials? Absolutely! That’s the job of parents, teachers, and other mentors. Should books be banned? Absolutely not.

    Who are the tastemakers and why do they matter?

    Today, some of the tastemakers fall into broad categories. Apparently we can thank thirteen-year-old girls for bad books like Twilight and good books like The Hunger Games. There are plenty of middle-aged housewives (or housedivorcees?) that devour trashy romance novels by the dozen every month. Teenage boys manage to poison the internet and online gaming services with vitriol that makes my hair smoke if I even think about participating.

    Sure, those are insulting, pigeonholing stereotypes. And yet, they seem to be steering many big dollar books, movies, games, and musicians. So do they matter? Of course! As an author, do I consider my (potential) audience? Some, sure. But at the end of the day, I know next to nothing about being a prepubescent girl or a middle-aged woman. Writing for those audiences would pose a challenge for me. I have a vague recollection of being a hormone-swamped teenager. I do my best to ignore those recollections, however.

    So, I follow the mantra, “Write what you know,” (which means something quite different than what most people think), and I hope that, by staying true to my own vision, I create stories that avoid the taboo, are unbannable, and meet with the approval of the tastemakers.

  • POV Corrupts

    Here’s my new saying: “POV corrupts. Omniscient POV corrupts absolutely.”

    Alright, I’m butchering the popular euphemism about power and corruption, but I think I can use my new quote to make a fair point. Bear with me.

    When writing fiction, I only have a few choices for point of view. I’m going to ignore the bizarre (e.g. second person view, or even weirder, first person plural) and focus upon the most common choices in modern fiction: third person limited, third person omniscient, and first-person.

    (more…)

  • Writers aren’t what they eat

    Unlike the clever mantra told to children to get them to eat their fruits and veggies, writers are not a product of their nutritional intake. Instead, we are an amalgamation of visual and aural stimuli. We collect these inputs like hoarders, stuffing our minds to the rafters with scenes, characters, stories, dialogues, and anything else we can find. Then we mix everything together into a slurry of deliciousness and spew the whole mess onto the page for our readers to…enjoy? Somewhere this analogy went terribly awry. Oh well. Onwards!

    Visual Influences
    Movies and television shows definitely impact my writing style. I often think very hard about the scenes in my stories and specifically try to address how they would translate to television or the big screen. Usually, though not always, I try to rewrite passages that would prove difficult to film. My reasoning is that anything that won’t translate to a visual medium means I’m doing too much telling, and not enough showing in my writing.

    That said, I still like leaving a lot of room for my reader’s imagination, so I tend to focus on television shows and movies where the actors and directors apply a subtle approach. I pay attention to conversations with lots of unspoken dialogue that’s communicated instead through body language and subtle nuanced behavior.

    Some examples of media that has specifically impacted me would be movies like Ocean’s Eleven and Inception, as well as the television series Battlestar Galactica. In Ocean’s Eleven, many of the dialogue scenes are starkly brief and snappy. Characters speak to one another in clipped phrases, leaving the audience to figure out the undercurrent of the conversation. In Inception, each character displays a clear archetype in the story, and each set piece is incredibly distinct and necessary to the story. Again, conversations are kept short and to the point, and plenty of room is left for the viewer to interpret events as they see fit.

    My favorite aspect of Battlestar Galactica was the complicated yet believable romantic dilemmas many of the characters faced. In particular, the love triangle of Starbuck, Apollo, and Anders. Starbuck, who was once engaged to Apollo’s brother, has an on-again, off-again affair with her almost-brother-in-law. She’s torn between her love for Anders and her irresistible physical and emotional attraction to Apollo. Self-loathing and bitterness cause each of the three characters to constantly try to extinguish and then rekindle the bonds that bind them together, and the resulting emotional orbits are incredibly rewarding to watch. Again, I’m drawn by the subtle way some of these scenes played out. The things that weren’t said, or weren’t shown on screen, were just as interesting as the things we got to watch on-screen.

    When I’m watching a movie or show that I like while I’m writing, I pay particular attention to certain details. I try to pay attention to different conversation styles, and the dynamics that arise between characters. I like to think about why something works in the visual media, and how it would translate (or not translate) to written media.

    Aural influences

    Music also plays a vital role in my writing process, but it’s not quite as direct as the visual. I use music primarily as background noise to drown out the real world and let me submerge myself into my writing. When I’m working, the music I listen to is almost always instrumental and low-key. That said, I will choose certain musical styles to inform certain scenes. Sometimes I want light, classical music to influence my tone, while other times I need dark, complex melodies to color my writing. Recently, I’ve listened to modern music from Hans Zimmer, Jonny Greenwood, Christopher O’Riley, and Philip Glass, as well as the classics like Bach, Beethoven, Bartok, and Grieg.

    When I’m not writing, but I’m in the midst of the writing process, I tend to listen to music with lots of interesting, poetic lyrics, or weird, mind-bending melodies. Bjork, Radiohead, Cocorosie, The Cure, and Peter Gabriel come to mind, but there are plenty of others. What I’m seeking is music that captures simplistic themes using sparse, beautiful phrases in both tone and vocabulary. My hope is that when I return to writing, the poetry of the music will act like a mild seasoning for my own writing, giving it a slightly higher level of artistic writing without drowning the reader in flowery prose.

    Sundry Influences

    What else influences me during writing? Let’s see: lots of sugar, lots of caffeine, and lots of not-sleep. I’m a sprinter, so my writing efforts are always bursts of creativity spurred by the frantic pace of NaNoWriMo or some other artificial deadline drawn in the sand. I envy folks that write methodically and regularly, but I don’t see that in my future.

    Last, but far from least, is the writing of my fellow writers. During November, nothing gets me more excited to write than seeing the most recent passages being crafted by my fellow authors. Every year I feel humbled, and challenged, and inspired by the incredible creativity of the small group of writers I’ve come to know and love in my local community and on the internet. They play an absolutely critical role in motivating me and inspiring my writing.

  • Hulk Smash!

    This one’s going to be a short one, folks, because my methods for developing characters are reasonably simple, albeit brutal:

    1. Take a Ken/Barbie Doll. This is your character template.
    2. Smash it multiple times with a hammer. This is your new and improved character template.
    3. Describe the physical/emotional damage you have inflicted.
    4. Explore how Ken/Barbie tries to put themselves back together.
    5. Throw still-mostly-broken Ken/Barbie down the stairs, then set them on fire.
    6. Rinse and repeat.

    The End

    Well, no, not really. I am a writer. I can elaborate just a little bit more than that, I guess.

    Physical Characteristics

    Much like my approach to scenes, I believe that less is more when it comes to describing my characters. Physical characteristics are generally ignored unless they’re particularly distinct (ala the result of a hammer smash) or affect the action in a scene. For instance, I may have a meek character huddling in the corner hiding her face behind her long hair. Or perhaps my brash protagonist brandishes his livid facial scars as he stares down the bad guys. The only details I provide for my reader are the ones that differentiate a character from the generic norm. Everything else is left for the reader’s mind to fill in for themselves.

    Behavioral Characteristics

    The key word here is “Damage.” It’s even more important when tackling behavioral characteristics than addressing physical features. Flaws are interesting. The more glaring the flaw, the more interesting the character. I tend to overemphasize key personality defects and play them up. I like my characters to fit recognizable archetypes, at least initially. Readers can then easily frame the characters in their mind and feel like they know them and what to expect from them.

    This, of course, is merely a lure. A clever ruse. The truly interesting character is one that surprises the reader without acting completely out of context. An interesting character possesses a deeper layer, running cross-hatched to the shallow surface behaviors that were originally presented. The blending of the stereotypical with the unpredictable makes for memorable, believable characters. The trick is making sure both layers still play out in a believable way.

    Progression

    Every character should have the opportunity to change during the story. The main characters should be forced to change, whether for better or worse. It’s their journey that propels the reader through the story. So in addition to crosshatching shallow archetypes with deeper troubles, I try my best to interject a strong counter-current for each main character, forcing them to reevaluate their worldview during the story and adjust accordingly. Sometimes the counter-current is simple, like unrequited love. Sometimes it’s bigger, like, “You just invented a technology that’s going to destroy mankind. Good luck with the guilt.” Usually it’s somewhere in the middle. It’s my hammer, and I wield it with brutal efficiency.

    Final Thoughts

    When in doubt as to how to make a character more interesting for the audience, think “Hulk Smash!” You can’t go wrong.

  • Modern Thinking vs. an Antiquated Notion

    I’ve always thought of self-publication as a fallback option. My own plan has always been to pursue the traditional route of sending queries to agents and publication houses, and to only resort to self-publication as a last resort. As time goes by, however, I’m slowly coming to realize that my plan may be faulty. The problem with my reasoning comes down to answer two questions:

    • Agents and publishers provide something of value to the author. Are the services they provide worth the price of admission?
    • Have e-books and the internet changed the answer to the first question?

    Rather than answer these yes/no questions directly, I’d like to break them down into their components and discuss them in more detail.

    (more…)