The Confabulator Cafe

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  • Rewriting the Past

    I have a soft spot for ancient civilizations. I find their history fascinating. If money and time were not an issue, I would learn as much as I could about these ancient civilizations and write texts about them. Is this strictly non-fiction? No.

    One of the reasons I love ancient history so much is because there is so much of it that is unknown. So much that can never be known. Every writer on the subject writes with their own agenda, utilizing the limited primary sources to envision what they think society was like. I suppose in a sense writing about ancient history is like writing a novel. You build from a few small details and use those details to create a larger picture. If you do it right, you end up with a believable backdrop. (more…)

  • Depressing Non-fiction

    I have a short attention span when it comes to non-fiction.

    I feel like I could tackle just about any non-fiction topic, but then I remind myself that it’s probably impossible for me to write a whole book about anything. I love to do research for my novels, but to write a whole non-fiction book, I know I’d really have to dive into a topic, stay dedicated to it, and not drop it when I had the most basic understanding of it.

    That’s why I like the Confabulator Café posts. Perfect little 300-500 word bites of knowledge imparted from my brain to you. Short, concise, and no need of extensive (if any) research. I can handle that. I could probably talk about myself for a whole novel. So perhaps that’s what my non-fiction book would be. I did write a memoir once. Memoirs can be my non-fiction. (more…)

  • Literature and History

    It was just a few years ago that I was writing non-fiction every month for school. Throughout my college experience, I was enrolled in several high-level English classes which often required study and commentary on works of literature. One of my favorite assignments was the analytical research paper.

    I enjoy arguing and a research paper is arguing in a controlled format. You make a point, and back it up with facts, anticipating criticism and opening debates. As an English student, I took a lot of literature classes, and my best arguments were on the writings of the English Renaissance.

    Shakespeare, Spenser, and Marlowe were (and are) my favorite, along with a healthy appreciation for other noteworthy works like the King James Version of the Holy Bible or the plays of Ben Johnson. For some people, these are nearly in another language, nearly incomprehensible. I find that with a little bit of study, what looks nearly incomprehensible becomes beautiful, expressive verse that cannot be matched by anything else.
    (more…)

  • Boring But Necessary: My Nonfiction Life

    I’ve already got a whole lot of nonfiction in my life, but none of it’s the fun kind.

    I am a freelance technical writer by trade, and depending on whether I’m in the feast or famine portion of my employment cycle, I spend large portions of my days working on behalf of companies that build cell phone towers. It involves a lot of research and letter writing and watching the calendar to see if anyone has gone beyond their FCC-mandated response times.

    Roughly 90 days after I’ve been assigned a project, I get to cobble together a report that either says “Go for it. No one cares if you build it there” or “Run, don’t walk, from this location. Do it! Do it now!”

    Whoever coined the phrase “thrill a minute” obviously had this very specific profession in mind.

    (more…)

  • An Assembly of Greys

    Sometimes, I wonder if there is such a thing as non-fiction.

    A professor of creative writing at Iowa State used to tell the story of a non-fiction class she taught. She had a student whose insane life kept her captivated throughout the semester. He was the son of a single mother and a man who had worked for the mafia in Chicago. His father had disgraced the family and spent a majority of his son’s childhood in prison. The subsequent shame haunted him and his writing detailed the life of a young man trying to climb out of his father’s dark shadows. His stories haunted the professor.

    A couple of semesters later, the student’s girlfriend enrolled in the class. The professor pulled her aside one day and asked how the student was doing. The girlfriend was confused and informed the professor that his dad was a farmer and his parents were still married. Later, going over the former student’s writing, she found an essay he had written at the end of the class. It said “true or not, all stories come out fiction in the end.” (more…)

  • Keeping It Real (week of 27 January 2013)

    If you’ve been around the Cafe, you know that we like to tell stories. Here’s a bit from the Wikipedia entry on ‘confabulation’:

    Confabulation is considered “honest lying,” but is distinct from lying because there is typically no intent to deceive and the individual is unaware that their information is false.

    So you can see we stretched it a bit, by definition. The Cafe is not any of the regulars’ primary job, though. All of us have square jobs we work at that pay the bills. Some of us work in various fields where we write for a living, but the work is such that the truth must be told accurately and within certain (sometimes frustrating) parameters.

    Our special this week is to challenge the regulars to tell you what sort of non-fiction each would write if given the chance. The answers may surprise you given what we write in terms of fiction. Don’t expect a confessional, but you may be enlightened as to what interests us outside of what you may already know. Or think you know. There’s no ‘honest lying’ here this week.

    Your table’s ready. Cocoa, tea, and coffee on request as long as you serve yourself.

  • Ephemera – What’s your favorite fairytale?

    This week at the Confabulator Cafe, we all wrote our own versions of fairytales: whether well-know, obscure, or invented from our own minds. Did you recognize any of them? We thought it only fitting, after writing fairytales this week, that we share what our favorites are.

    Kevin Wohler

    My favorite fairy tale is a modern classic called The King With Six Friends by Jay Williams. It’s the story of a king on his quest for fortune who befriends six strangers. In turn, his new friends help the king with their special abilities. As fairy tales go, it’s got everything: a quest, people with magical powers, and a young king who learns a valuable lesson.

    Ashely M. Poland

    We were kids raised on Disney VHS tapes, so for me, fairy tales and Disney are so twined together that its hard to tell them apart. It’s definitely The Little Mermaid, but I like Beauty & the Beast almost as much. But The Little Mermaid. Ariel was my homegirl. We had watched my grandma’s copy of the tape so much that the beginning skips. Now I own that tape. Every time I watch it, I’m convinced the tape is going to snap during those first four minutes.

    Christie Holland

    In my mind, there’s a huge divide between Proper fairy tales, the originals that often end in death and/or violence, and Disney fairy tales. Disney’s Beauty and the Beast is one of my favorite stories of all time. There are few adaptations of it that I haven’t loved. But if you want to know what Proper fairy tale I love, it’s probably The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen. Whenever the mermaid walks on land, it feels as if knives are being driven through her feet. I love that there’s a horrible consequence for wanting to change who she fundamentally is.

    Sara Lundberg

    I’ve always been particularly haunted by the folk tale Bluebeard. It re-iterates the whole adage “curiosity killed the cat” and demonstrates that human nature will always desire that which has been forbidden. I tell myself that I never would have been so stupid as to go into the room I was explicitly told not to go into, but I know my curiosity would have eventually gotten the better of me anyway. Even though the protagonist goes against the wishes of the husband forced on her, she is still manages to survive, so I think in that time she was considered a strong female lead. I’ve just always been morbidly fascinated by serial killers and horror, so this one definitely stuck with me. I love also Beauty and the Beast for its similar themes (not to mention, out of all Disney princesses, I related to Belle the most).

    Jack Campbell, Jr.

    I have a soft spot for Rumpelstiltskin. I always felt bad for the guy. He spent all that time and energy spinning straw into gold, and the chick didn’t live up to her part of the bargain. It wasn’t like he asked for her first born…oh, right. t’s going to serve her right with the king beheads her for deceiving him into thinking she did all that work. A lot of fairy tales have an obvious meaning and beat you over the head repeatedly with it. Rumpelstiltskin can be read a few different ways, which I think is part of its charm.

  • The Waves Greet Us Home (Flash Fiction)

    Dr. Koldun’s office is like a living room, decorated with wide windows and soft lights. The other patients in the waiting room are a mixture of gorgeous and unfortunate. Every one of them stares down at a phone or book, utterly oblivious to her curious glances. What brings them to this place?

    “Muirgen Brady?”

    Gen winces at the mangled pronunciation — another bit of family history she tries to hide. Unfortunate family names, unfortunate family looks. None of the other patients even blink. She stands and crosses the room to shake Dr. Koldun’s hand. “Gen, please.”

    The doctor’s appraising glance is a bit too intense, her hand too tight — then she nods and releases Gen’s hand. “Of course. Follow me, please.”

    (more…)

  • Broken Contract

    http://www.cnn.com/2009/TECH/space/11/05/space.elevator/index.htmlZhoq threw the switch which closed with a bang. The last of the couplings hummed to life and magnetically locked into place. “All right,” he said, shielding his eyes, “let ‘em know we’re good, Beanie.”

    The mooring cable connected to the coupling extended as far as he could see and was as big around as him. Zhoq stepped just beyond the safe distance ring and turned. “Beanie? You hear me?”

    “Roger, Zhoq.” The voice in his ear was amiable. “They’re advised.”

    He shook his head. Beanie was likable, a character by any definition, but he damned well better be doing his job. “Good. Let me know when they’re close.”

    (more…)

  • The Maiden’s Heart

    Once upon a time, there was a maiden. She was young and fair, and according to the custom in the kingdom, as she grew her parents gave her a heart. This heart was made of blown glass in a rich, deep ruby color, bound with silver wire and hung from a silver chain. She filled its hollow with her hopes and dreams.

    In the same town there lived a young man. He was witty and charming, clever and handsome, and knew how to make people laugh, and he flirted with many of the young women of the town. The maiden caught his eye with her sweet ways and generous nature, her beauty and her lovely heart. Together they would walk along a river path, or dance in the town square, or sit under a tree and talk for hours. She felt fortunate to have such a handsome suitor.

    When she offered him her heart, she told him, “This is the most precious thing I have, and you must promise to take very good care of it.”

    He promised most solemnly, and she hung her heart around his neck for everyone to see. He gave her his own heart, and she thought her happiness was complete. But his heart was a false one, made of cardboard and cheap sequins, and filled with cigarette ash and high fructose corn syrup.

    (more…)