Hellos and Goodbyes…

It’s been awhile since we’ve visited the Swamp and her inhabitants. Today I thought you might like to take a peek into our little farewell get together for Mighty, who shall remain with us via the technology gods until her return, and meet our newest member…

Wicked: *shoving Might’s duffle on to the back of the lopsided jackass*  Why the hell are you going to the Windy City? Between the Werewolf Monks and Eerie’s Free Range Zombies, I would’ve thought we had enough drama for you.

Mighty:*stashing her Staff of Bull Shark Repellent*  You know how it is, money’s a little tight and those Bull Sharks aren’t going to leave the lake any time soon. I’m just going to make sure they don’t pass beyond where they’re allowed.

Snarky: *lazily curling and uncurling her whip*  I can whip them into shape.

Mighty: *look of indulgent disdain*  Your whip is not going to reach.

*Overhead Mischievous calls out*:  Hey Mighty, you ready to lose a few fingers and toes?  The temps over there will keep you in deep freeze.  *He cackles at his lame attempt at humor*

Mighty: *rolling her eyes across the road. Picks them up and puts them back in*:  That bird would be great fried.

Wicked: *grinning in agreement, even as the Prankster Duo comment on Mighty’s gory trick*  Yeah, but I think Eerie might take exception to our meal plans.

Eerie: *taking his Free Range Zombies for a walk with chains and a pointy stick*  What meal plans? The Werewolf Monks have been promising me a new vintage, I could pester them for it.

*A cloud of smoke drifts over* Smokey: “Just took down a mastodon over by Swamp Thing’s place. It’s been smoking nicely for the last few days. I’ll have my Spicy Bit bring it over. We don’t want you heading off without a full belly, Mighty.

Quirky: *practicing knots with some newly purchased ropes*  The Muses headed out a few hours ago, so we could probably hang over at Filet Your Own Deli without worrying about another knock down drag out argument over the use of details or lack thereof.

Dreamer *arms full of colorful blooms and Angel Boy fluttering around her ankles*  What about your cabin, Mighty? Do you need someone to pop in and keep an eye on things for you?

Mighty: *the smirk we all know and love but have learned to be wary of appears* Nah, I forgot to mention I found someone to cabin sit while I’m gone.  That way it’ll still be standing, Zombie Free, when I get back.

Dreamer *beatific smile appears* It’s so nice to have new blood in the community.  So much to play with…*a small blush*  I mean, perhaps they’ll have new playmates for Angel Boy.  *Turns to Wicked and Snarky*  No offense girls, but I believe your progeny may be perhaps a bit too adventurous for mine right now.

Wicked & Snarky exchange high fives.  

Wicked: None taken…

Snarky:  So this new peep.  What’s the deal? Who are they? Where are they from? Most importantly, can they pass the Swamp Entry Exam?

*A loud pop and a blue telephone booth appears and settles in the road. Red Dwarf steps out* 

Red: Good eve, all, I thought I’d pop in before tea to bid Mighty adieu.  

*A small blond races from behind Red and joins forces with the Prankster Duo, where upon a discussion of how Yoda took down Darth in this year’s Star Wars March Madness*

Red: Did I hear something about an entrance exam? I thought we’d straightened that out months ago.  Besides, I don’t see any dead bodies lying around. Everyone’s here–Snarky, Wicked, Smokey, Quirky, Eerie, Dreamer, Mighty, myself…doesn’t that put us one over?

Eerie *capturing a wondering single hand and wrestling it back in line*  Even though you’re over the Pond and Mighty will soon be in the Land of Winds and You-betchas, we’ve decided to allow one more individual into the group.

Quirky:  We did? When?

Wicked: It was during the brawl over at the Kilted Ferret pub when we had to hold off that damn Molly and her two henchboys from Eerie’s Three Misfiteers.  

Quirky: *flying fingers and rope pause before continuing their dizzy dance*  Oh yeah.  So, who is the new person?

Mighty: *tossing another package on top of the lopsided jackass* I’d introduce you all, but she’s been here the whole time, so I ‘ll let her do the honors.

*All seven dwarves start checking out their surroundings*

Eerie: Short? Tall? Gnome? Troll? What exactly are we looking for here? And a name would be good.

*Mighty smiles and continues to finish her packing*

*From behind him a shadow separates and forms into a petite, lithe form*  Names are not to be given lightly, small man.

Eerie: *huffs up to his full three foot one inch height* Who you calling small?

Wicked: *arms folded so knives are in easy reach* Nice move there, I need to introduce you to Raine.

Snarky: *lets her whip snap, crackle and pop*  And you would be…

*Shadow girl drops a very elegant bow* I am called Ninja Dwarf.

Quirky: *looking intrigues*  Wow! Totally cool, we get our very own ninja!

Troll Mountain Retreat

Greetings and salutations loyal readers of the blog,

I’m glad you all made the effort to meet us on Troll Mountain. As you can see the vistas are spectacular. You’ll have to pardon me if I’m inattentive. Sleep is a rare commodity, because our hosts hunt us every night. Mischievous Raven and I must keep on the move. Mischievous is sleeping, he has to keep his wits sharp in case we encounter trolls at night. It’s his job to out riddle them. Trolls are fond of riddles, but they don’t like it when they get out riddled. Last night, the biggest troll I’ve seen on this trip cornered us. He was grayish-green with a large snot bubble that kept inflating and deflating with each rattling breath.

He snatched me up in his filthy hand. “Not a whole meal but you do for starters.”

I nearly blacked from the stench emanating from his mouth.

Mischievous flapped his wings yelling obscenities before he threw down the gauntlet.” That is my dinner, thank you very much. Give him back.”

“How can it be so when I’m holding him?” The snot bubble coming ever closer to me as I dangle in mid-air.

“Perhaps a game of riddles will decide the rightful owner,” Mischievous challenged.

“What does a bird know of riddling?”

Mischievous starts. “I am the beginning of the end, and the end of time and space. I am essential to creation, and I surround every place. What am I?”

Snotty Troll laughed, bursting his snot bubble, “That’s EEEasy. It’s the letter E. It walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon and three legs in the evening. What is it?”

“Is that all you got? Man or dwarves if you prefer the current example.” Pointing a wing in my direction. “ I never was, am always to be. No one ever saw me, nor ever will. And yet I am the confidence of all, to live and breathe on this terrestrial ball. What am I?”

“The future.” A new snot bubble is reforming, but his grip slackened slightly. “What always runs but never walks, often murmurs, never talks, has a bed but never sleeps, has a mouth but never eats?”

Mischievous paused scratching his head. “A river, yes that’s it.” Strutting around doing his Mick Jagger impersonation. “At night they come without being fetched. By day they are lost without being stolen. What are they?”

This time Troll scratches himself, I won’t mention where in mixed company. “Give me another.”

“If you can’t answer I win.” Mischievous strutted about again. “I’ll take my dinner now, if you please.”

“Not so. You started, so I get ask you one.”  Troll frowned in concentration. “The more you have of it, the less you see. What is it?”

“Tricky one indeed” … Mischievous hummed.”

“Your answer bird, now,” Troll growled.

“All right all right. It is darkness. I win I win.”

“You must give me one more.”

“Do not.”

“Do so!”

“Not.”

“Yes you must.” Troll yelled, dropping me in the process of reaching for Mischievous.

I ran as fast as my short legs would carry me, this was not going the way I’d expected. Mischievous performed and inverted roll in mid air.

“The person who makes it, sells it. The person who buys it never uses it and the person who uses it doesn’t know they are using it. What is it?” Mischievous said as he led Troll in the other direction. Allowing me to escape we rendezvoused eary this morning.

Well enough of my adventures here in the land of the Trolls. We were going to talk about fictional characters this week. Since the sun is low on the horizon indicating our time is at hand I will be brief and we can pick this up again next week. In E. A. Poe’s The Tell-Tale Heart, the main character is never named. The story, told in the first person starts with his denial of his own madness. Instead he claims a clarity, or a sharpening of his own senses. In three pages we see this madman go completely off his rocker. Killing the old man and hiding his dismembered body below the floor boards. All the while crying his sanity, claiming that the old mans evil eye drove him to it. His denial of his own madness continues right to the end when he admits his crime to the officials. The man with no name tells a story of madness so intense and personal you can’t, not be drawn into the tale by him.

I’ve clearly run too long here, so have a great week and please tell me who your favorite fictional characters are in the comment box. We’ll talk about them next week.

This weeks quote comes from Cindy Williams.

“Dreams are the souls pantry. Keep it well stocked and your soul will never hunger.”

Write On,

Eerie Dwarf

Free Range Organic Zombies are Afoot

Greetings and Salutations loyal readers of the blog,

As reported last week the herd of zombies my friend Mischievous Raven and I were raising to supply various industries with Free Range Organic Zombies (trademarked) escaped.  I mentioned that some companies were suing us because of breach of contract.  The entertainment industry is especially blood thirsty it seems when you don’t deliver your product on time.  To add insult to loss of income there are rumors of all the Kings men and all the Kings horses heading our way because some people have lost loved ones to a zombie feeding frenzy.  Now, while I am responsible for the afore mentioned  shamblers escaping, no one can convince me that they can discern one of my Free Range Organic Zombies (trademarked) from the more common feral dead heads that populate the realm.

Just the same Mischievous and I are planning a retreat to Troll Mountain We’ll wait until the public clammer for our heads on a pike to settle down.  You laugh–I tell you they were combing the swamp with torches and pitch forks last night.  It was a scene right out the famous documentary, Young Frankinstien.  Not so funny when it’s your head they have in mind for the end of the pike.  Plus as you may know dwarves are not fond of heights, and that pike is very long.  I’m afraid my head would get dizzy.

Of course the Trolls are no treat to deal with either.  My hope is that we will be able to out riddle them until such time that we can make our way home.  Mischievous is particularlly adept at riddles and his wise cracking nature should keep us safe for a time anyway.  I’m happy to report that The Three Misfiteers have been appeased by my most recent efforts to get their story published.  That at least is a little good news.

And I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the extraordinary Lynn Rush.  She was gracious enough to vist our steamy swamp yesterday and answer all Wicked’s questions and autograph books for fans.  My muse was impressed with her speedy transportation although he prefers bulk over speed. His fully armored and armed HUM-V are proof of that.  His love of all things mechanical had him drooling over the speed she could squeeze out of two wheels.  He tried to hide it from me, but rumor has it he made Mischievous Raven get Lynn’s new release Violet Dawn autographed for him.  Sorry Lynn, but my muse has a tough guy reputation to maintain.

Next week we’ll pick up our talk about characters and what makes them click for you the reader.  I will be asking for you to contribute one of your favorite fictional characters so start thinking about now.  As usual I’ll leave you with a quotation.

This one come from the movie Silence Of The Lambs in honor of yesterdays guest Lynn Rush.

“Hannibal Lecter: A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti.”

Write On,

Eerie Dwarf

Two Out The Three Rs, Reading and Writing

Greetings and Salutations Loyal readers of the blog,

If you stopped by yesterday you got to meet Faith Hunter.  She managed to reduce my friend Mischievous Raven to a blubbering mass of black feathers.  He was acting like a teenage girl at a boy band concert.  I’ve never seen him quite so overcome.  He kept calling out Jane , J-a-n-e, Jaaaaannnnnne.  I’m pretty sure he was confusing Ms. Hunter with her fictional character Jane Yellowrock.  Of course as he pointed out last week, fictional characters can take on a life all their own.  Which is the topic of my absolute favorite Stephen King novel The Dark Half.  Of course when I meet Mr. King I won’t become an incoherent stumbling fool.  Okay maybe I will.  All right, I’m sure I will. But I won’t start calling him Thad Beaumont or worse George Stark.  I’m pretty sure.

The mention of The Dark Half had me going into the shrine and pulling it off the shelf.  Lately I’ve been rereading some of my favorite books, most of them from my childhood.  There are so many books to read, it’s overwhelming when you consider.  Most of them are quite good and certainly worthy of my time.  The fact that I will never be able to read them all may be my only regret.  I enjoy a diverse or some may say eclectic list.  Old Classics, Science Fiction, Literary, Humor, and even the occasional Romance, but Horror is where my heart lies.  When the world as we know it, is reflected back to us from a fun house mirror our view gets distorted.

What Stephen King and his contemporaries do so well is present us regular Joes, or the girls next door, in a way that we identify with.  We either know these characters or, in some cases, we are these characters.  They do regular things, in a regular world, in the regular way.  They covet what they don’t have, some take the moral high ground and some are content to justify the means with the end.  Characters we know and love, or in some cases love to hate.

Then they put these regular Joes in situations that are irregular.  They imagine them into predicaments that in some cases could happen to us all and in some cases (Thank God) cannot.  But because we identify with them from the outset we go along for the ride.  Deeply imbedded into this impossible situation we struggle right along with them.  When their car overheats and they stroll up to that farmhouse that is all to conveniently near by.  We are glad they won’t have to spend the night on a deserted road.  At the same time we want to scream, tell them no.  This is a bad idea.  And when a little old lady answers the door and invites them in for tea we are relieved.  Her deformed middle-aged son who lives in the basement sharpening scythes all day won’t be up until later.  Not until it’s TOO LATE, for them anyway.

Authors who can pull us into the mundane world and turn it ever so slightly.  Just enough to raise the hair on the back of our neck, but not so much that it is unrecognizable, these are the masters of horror.  These are the men and women who cause me to regret I have but one lifetime to read all there is to read.  This is the joy of reading.  And of course these are the authors who I emulate in my own writing.

I was going to add a short list of my favorites here and realized that it would not–could not ever be short.  In fact the longer I write this blog more great books come to mind.  Books that seized me by the imagination and never have let go.  I still know the names of characters I read long ago.  Why?  Because they impacted me in way that refuses to slacken their grip.  From the black-hearted Montresor in E. A. Poe’s, The Cask Of The Amontillado, and young Jim Hawkins of Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, to Joe Hill’s Judas Coyne of A Heart Shaped Box and Christopher Moore’s Charlie Asher of It’s A Dirty Job, all these characters have rented rooms in my memory and there they stay.  The fictional character boarding house is getting crowded.  But I’ll put on an addition, if need be, to accommodate the next wave of great characters surely to come into my life.

Thanks to all those authors who willingly wear their hearts on their sleeves and sleep with the lights on.

Don’t forget Blood Trade Faith Hunter’s newest Jane Yellowrock novel is available now at Amazon and Barnes and Noble. 

Today were traveling with Mr. Peabody in the Way Back Machine for this weeks quotation.(If you know this pop culture reference you’re old, just saying)

“The level of our success is limited only by our imagination”  Aesop

Write On,

Eerie Dwarf

Good characters make writing easier

Greetings and Salutations loyal readers of the blog,

As you can see my Pain and Torture Therapist has taken away my wheel chair and given me a cane in its place.  While I like the suave look of a stylish cane, it does nothing to help me get around in the swamp.  When I put any weight on it, the cane simply sinks into the squishy mud we call home.  On the up side I am feeling better.  Although the first few days after my luncheon with The Three Mifiteers I was feeling no pain.  I later found out the muses have kept a secret garden of Dreamers flowers growing somewhere in the Swamp and Mischievous Raven was brewing me tea from the pedals.

We’ve been talking for several weeks about characters and what makes them tick.  And as writers, how do we learn about them.  Case in point last week I was summoned to lunch by The Three Misfiteers.  Their motive as a group was to get me off my butt and do what is necessary to get their book published.

Let’s review a few of the things we learned about them as a group and as individuals.

Molly Houlihan is clearly the leader of the group and she steers them to do her bidding.  She is an in your face, confrontational, no excuses kind of gal. Her motivations are not completely selfish.  She wants what is best for The Three Misfiteers and even for me.  She is not diplomatic or apologetic.  She calls you on your bullshit and won’t accept no, I can’t, or I tried.  In short she is results oriented.  The perfect CEO.

Frank Blase, on the other hand is extremely intelligent.  He will weigh both sides of the argument, take into account strengths and weaknesses, and find a solution.  Unlike Molly he is not results oriented.  He will provide the best and worse scenarios and wait for someone else to make the final decision.  He will beat you in a debate because he is informed and can present his argument in a logical and comprehensible way.  He’s the thinker in the group and his opinion is held in high regard by Molly who ultimately will be making the decision.

Billy Hashberger is spontaneous.  He’s a doer.  His motto is do something, even if it’s wrong.  He’s impatient, flippant and reckless.  When fools rush in Billy will be in the lead.  It’s often his actions that get the Three Misfiteers into predicaments that Frank and Molly have to get them out of. On the flip side Billy will do anything for his friends with no regard for himself.  Loyal to a fault and anxious to act. Things are rarely boring when Billy’s in the vicinity.

These are the most obvious of the groups traits.  Below these are layers of complexity that it is harder to wring out.  But the more you know about the inner workings of your character the easier it is to move them through a scene, making decisions and keeping them true to themselves and the reader.

A flutter of shiny black feathers interrupts my chain of thought.  My onyx feathered friend lands in front of me.

“Eerie, are you almost done?  Don’t forget you promised to get me an advanced copy of  Faith Hunter’s new book Blood Trade before she visits next week,” Mischievous Raven blurts out.

“I’m a little busy here.”

“She coming next Thursday and you promised.”

“What’s the big deal?  It’ll be released April 2. You can get it then.”

“Jane Yellowrock is the big deal.  And I was going to ask Ms. Hunter to sign it for me.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to Wicked as soon as I’m done here.  I promise we’ll get you an autographed copy.”

“Do you think she would mind signing the other five, while she’s at it?”

“I’m sure she’s very nice and will sign all your books if your polite.  But I’ll give Wicked a heads up that you have the whole Jane Yellowrock series.”

“Good.  That’s good.”  Mischievous says between breaths.

“Slow down.  Take a deep breath.”

“Okay, I’m breathing now.  Oh boy, oh boy oh, boy, Jane Yellowrock, right here in the Swamp.”

“You know Jane Yellowrock is a fictional character, right?”

“Oh yeah, I’ll tell that to Molly the next time she wants to know where you are.”

“Good point.”

I’m going to have to leave you all here so I can talk with Wicked about Mischievous’ request.  We’ll close with a quotation from Jungleland By Bruce Springsteen

“And the poets down here
Don’t write nothing at all
They just stand back and let it all be
And in the quick of the night
They reach for their moment
And try to make an honest stand
But they wind up wounded
Not even dead
Tonight in Jungleland”

Write On,

Eerie Dwarf

Writing The Hard Stuff

Greetings and Salutations loyal readers of the blog,

Sorry I’m late but this wheel chair is not good swamp transportation.  Which brings me to how I find myself in this particular contraption.  You may remember that I was invited to lunch by The Three Misfiteers.  Their choice of restaurant was not by chance.  They chose the famous Torture Room at The Four Demons Hotel and Spa.  It seems they are dissatisfied with the progress I’ve been making in getting their book published.

First Molly Houlihan grilled me on what steps I’ve taken.  Then Frank Blase pointed out that a person with my limited intellect should have been able to accomplish all these things in a more timely manner.  ”Even Billy could have done it faster.”  Frank pointed out.  Billy Hashberger simple waited for them to finish.  When the desert tray came around Billy selected The Rack for me.  The staff had to make some adjustments to accommodate the shortened height of a dwarf, but this was quickly accomplished and I was installed on this infernal machine.

I repeated the new pitch or blurb as wicked called yesterday in attempt to win their approval but they were not impressed.  They pointed to the success of Wicked and Snarky.  And they asked why I wasn’t able to do the same.  Billy even had an advance copy of yesterdays post by Wicked about how easy it is to write the query letter.  ”Where is the query letter for our book,” he yelled in to my sweating face.

As a dwarf I often considered doing something to improve my vertical profile, but I was thinking lifts in my shoes or some other painless technique, The Rack never came to mind.  For the obvious reason.  Molly cranked the wheel one more notch, my vision swam into blackness and I heard her exclaim, “I guess we shouldn’t kill him…yet.”

The next thing I remember is waking up in my pad with Mischievous Raven fussing over me.  Needless to say, I’ve had to set my zombie novel aside for a time so that I can show real progress on getting The Three Misfiteers out before the public eye.  This includes the perfect pitch, hook line, query letter, platform from which to launch the book when it’s published and some serious pain killers.  The Rack is toughest on knees and shoulders.

Sitting here working I’m reminded of Paul Sheldon, who fell into the hands of Annie Wilkes (his number one fan) from Misery by Stephen King.  Paul’s task was to bring Misery Chastain (the character in his romance series) back to life.  Mine is to give The Three Misfiteers an opportunity at life.  While it may appear that I have freedom, it is only an illusion, Molly, Frank and Billy can show up at any time and any place to take me back into custody and have their way with me.  And so it’s back to work for me.  Until next week then.

This weeks quote comes from a poem by Maggie Mae titled This Wild Death.  you can read the entire poem at her link http://maggiemaeijustsaythis.wordpress.com

“I am sitting in a mirror,

hurrying truth faster than it has time
to find itself,”

Write On,

Eerie Dwarf

Characters take on a life of their own

 

 

Greetings and Salutations loyal readers of the blog,

I’m still hanging with the ghosts at the unconsecrated cemetery.  Mischievous Raven had to return to quell a Zombie uprising.  He’s taking the muses along for muscle because one raven, no matter how obnoxious, is no match for a bunch of disgruntled Zombies.  The Ghosts here, have been very hospitable if not the most uplifting group to hang with.  In truth melancholy is about the best I can hope for.  They have been entertaining though and their stories around the tombstones each night are a lot of fun.  If you define fun as having your spleen shrivel up and hide out of sheer fright.  When the sun rises they all go back to where ever they spend their days and I and my spleen get some rest.

If you’re a regular you know in the past week, we’ve talked about the characters that drive your story.  Red Dwarf mentioned the pattern for the Gang of Four and I went on about how to get to know your characters.  We’ve talked about a series bible so that your characters stay true to who they are as well as where they are.  Thanks Wicked.  Getting outside your comfort zone and writing something hard for you was Dreamer Dwarf.  She’s the one who brought this ugly little scar to light.  Of course we all want to write what makes us happy, because it’s easier.  Then Wicked brought up the dreaded Synopsis.  I don’t know if you noticed, but her moniker comes to her honestly, because a series bible and a synopsis are wicked hard to do well.

And now it’s Friday again.  Excuse me that’s the swamp line, I’ve got to take this.  Hey Molly what’s up?

I know I haven’t been submitting your book, but you know I’ve been busy and all.

Sure lunch would be great, where and when…  The Torture Room at The Four Demons.  Sounds rather ominous, I mean expensive… Okay then noon tomorrow.

Sorry about that, it would seem that I’ve been summoned by The Three Misfiteers to lunch tomorrow.  I don’t think this is a good omen for me, the last time they got inpatient with my progress on getting their story published they kidnapped my friend Mischievous Raven.  He’s still in therapy. I’m not sure if it’s because his doc is a leggy brunette, who looks good in tight jeans and boots or if he is still suffering from the trauma.

Taking a break from the writing routine today I’m going to talk about what I’ve been reading.  First of course I have to mention In The Tall Grass, a short story by the master, Stephen King and none other than Joe Hill.  You may remember Joe from my blog about A Heart Shaped Box, a novel the still chills my blood when I think back to the night I read it.  In the Tall Grass, surprised me (A constant reader as SK refers to his fans).  It takes a dark turn and just when I thought I had it figured out, well, I couldn’t have been more wrong.  I love the short fiction format.  After a day of work, nothing gives me more pleasure than starting a story when I crawl under the sheets and finishing it before my conscious brain clocks out for the day.  Then I can turn the light out and have pleasant dreams (or not so pleasant nightmares in this case) about getting lost In The Tall Grass.

Next I went on reread I Am Legend by Richard Matheson.  Mr. Matheson is a writer who, and I quote Stephen King here from an introduction from Nightmare At 20,000 Feet, “Asks no quarter and gives none.”  He is another master of short fiction.  I read this story when I was much younger and still remember how the end impacted me.  Reading it again as an adult was no different.  It is creepy.  I mean that in a good way.

Prior to these I stumbled onto Jonathan Maberry’s Pine Deep Trilogy, Ghost Road Blues, Dead Man’s Song, and Bad Moon Rising.  “What evil lurks in the hearts of man?”  Jonathan knows.  Jonathan’s telling, of the terrors that haunt the small rural town of Pine Deep kept me turning pages.  And the evil that lives beneath the surface is disquieting.  If you like Werewoves, Vampires, fathomless evil and courage.  This is a great series.  Jonathan will challenge your concepts of the afore-mentioned evil creatures, using folklore for his understanding rather than the modern-day Hollywood versions.  His current Zombie series is on my bookshelf, but I must complete my own zombie novel before I delve into it.  (I want my zombies to remain my zombies and not be influenced by Jonathan’s.

That’s all the time we have for this week.  If you like the content here at the 7evildwarves.wordpress.com click on the subscribe button or leave a comment. Your feedback is the only measure we have of knowing who’s out there.  Thanks again for stopping by.  As is the custom on Friday I shall leave you with a quotation.  This comes from the song Mr. Siegal by musician/poet Tom Waits.

“How do the Angels get to sleep  

When the Devil leaves the porch light on”

Write On,

Eerie

Characters must have character

Greetings and Salutations loyal readers of the blog,

I promised to fill you in on my ghostly interviews.  At first I thought I’d hit a gold mine of information.  It seems that the few who were willing to talk to me have died dreadful and violent deaths at their own hands, either on purpose or by excesses of one thing or another.   The  famous people who came to chat me up, died tragic deaths.  George Eastman (shot himself), Sid Vicious(overdose), Arshile Gorky (hung himself), Ernest Hemingway (shot himself), Diane Arbus (slit her wrists).  I was struck by the one thing they all had in common.  Their own powerlessness, some wanted to change the world, some just wanted to change their own little corner of the world.  They all suffered at the hands of their own internal demons.  Their souls were tortured beyond our ability to comprehend.  As a writer I am neither comfortable or capable of doing their stories justice at this time.  Listening to them seemed to provide then with some peace, if only temporarily.  I can’t say.  The unconsecrated cemetery is full of stories of talented people who could not find a way live in the world.  We can not change the past, but we should not blind ourselves to it either.  Listen to living, do not judge, just offer a different perspective.

On that soulful note I’d like to talk about character development today.  In my humble opinion it is the character of your characters that drives the story.  It has been said, there are only a few original plots in the world and they have been done over and over.  What makes each story original are the characters, or combination of characters, you choose to walk us through yours.

With that in mind, how do we get to know our characters so we can be true to them throughout our piece, be it flash fiction or a great literary tome.  There are many ways to do this, but one of the most interesting I’ve found is this.  Write your character into a scene that has nothing to do with what you’re working on.  For instance let them take you to lunch.  Where would they choose to meet you?  What would they order?  What do you talk about over lunch?  The SOB that is keeping them from achieving their goals, or maybe what a slug you are when it comes to writing down how they really feel.  Are there cocktails?  Do they pick up the check or leave it for you?  Are they generous tippers?  How do they treat the wait staff?  Do they order from the menu or do they have to dissect the ingredients leaving half of them off and the other half totally unrelated to what was ordered.

I’m thinking of the scene from Five Easy Pieces, when Jack Nicholson tries to order toast in a diner.  When the waitress says he can’t order toast he orders a chicken salad sandwich on toasted wheat.  He then tells the waitress to hold the lettuce, hold the tomato, hold the mayo and finally hold the chicken.  This short scene is insignificant in the overall story arc, but it tells you reams about the character.  For one he is someone used to getting what he wants, and will go to great extremes to get it.  You have to watch the entire scene for yourself to get all the character nuances.

I’ve also found this exercise can help when you’ve written yourself into a corner.  Go shopping with your protagonist, where would they shop Rodeo Drive, Wal-mart or REI Outfitters.  Have your antagonist write a letter.  What would he/she say to a friend?  What would they say about another character in your piece.  Or apply to an exclusive club or college, what assets would he/she emphasize, even more telling is what they wouldn’t say.

Sounds like great fun, no.  Of course if your like me you’ll say, but I hardly have enough time to write now.  This will only pull me away from the important stuff, IE that great literary novel the world is waiting for.  My experience is this, when my characters voice comes easy, the writing goes faster and is painless.  When I’m searching for the right word for my character the writing trudges along a dreary path that never seems to change.  So change the scenery maybe it will help.  With that I leave you with a quotation from Jim Morrison.

“People fear death even more than pain. It’s strange that they fear death. Life hurts a lot more than death. At the point of death, the pain is over. Yeah, I guess it is a friend.“

write On,

Eerie Dwarf

A WRITER’S WORK IS NEVER DONE

Greetings and Salutations loyal readers of the blog,

Since we are all here, it’s safe to say that we made it through the Impenetrable Forest without too many incidents.  Just before we set off with all our gear in place, Mischievous Raven suggested we take some of our Free Range, Organic Zombies (Trade marked) with us.  I laughed at the idea of the zombies as protection, but once again Mischievous proved to be resourceful.  As it turned out the zombies provided us with a sort of extra camouflage.  The rancid odor of rotting flesh hid us from the creatures in the forest who rely on smell to hunt.  The biggest threat came when a flock of Piranha Hummingbirds swarmed in.  They were content to pick clean the bones of our zombie escort until they could barely fly.  We are down three dozen zombies and I don’t know how we’re going to get back yet.  I’m sure Mischievous has something under his onyx wing.

In other news around The Swamp, C. Rock Adile came out of hiding just long enough to learn that Swamp Thing has not forgotten his prediction of the end of the world based on the Myan calendar.  The last time I saw him he was swimming for all he’s worth, closely followed by Swamp Thing who was leaving quite a wake of her own.  It’s been pretty quiet other than that.  The rest of the Evil Seven all have their noses firmly against the grindstone.  That also helps to keep the muses out of trouble as their services are being pressed into action as well.

I’ll fill you in on my interviews with the ghosts next week.  Let’s get down to work shall we?

I attended The second annual Indie Author Publishing Conference and Pitchapalooza last week.  The event was put together by the folks at Changing Hands Book Store and The Phoenix Public Library.  I was overwhelmed with the amount of great content that was presented.  How to pitch your book presided over by David Henry Sterry and his beautiful wife Arielle Eckstut, was my favorite.  They are very optimistic about the future of publishing, and they said, this is the best time ever to be an author.  (Or something to that effect.)

Building your web presence, orchestrated by Evo Terra and his not quite as beautiful business partner Jeff Moriarty, is a close second.  Their energetic presentation was engaging and fun.  (Plus Jeff called me a genius because I use Srcivener to write and edit my work)

Here is the biggest thing I learned at the conference.  Drum roll please.  If you’ve completed your novel, your work has only just begun.  As it turns out literary agents and publishers are not going to come hammering on my front door and start a bidding war to publish my novel.  Okay even I’m not that foolish.  What I actually thought was, getting published is a mixture of  perseverance and luck.  The truth is, as in everything else I’ve ever applied myself to, luck is a direct result of hard work.

When I was much younger, I said to guy who had just sold his company for a lot of money,  ”You’re lucky.”  He replied, “Yeah, the harder I work the luckier I get.”  I’ve never forgotten that.  And so now I’m lacing up my work boots.  It’s going to get ugly because the things I have to do are things I’m not comfortable doing.  The issue here is, my characters have the right to be heard and it’s up to me to give them that opportunity.

Thanks one and all for stopping by, as is our custom here on Fridays I’ll leave you with a quotation.  This one comes from, Ursala K. Guin.

“The unread story is not a story; it is little black marks on wood pulp.  The reader, reading it, makes it live: a live thing, a story.”

Write On,

Eerie Dwarf

Cliche’s are Tabu

Greetings and Salutations loyal readers of the blog,

Mischievous and I are preparing to visit the old unconsecrated catholic graveyard.  I need to do some research on ghosts and who better to ask than ghosts.  We’ll be hiking through the Impenetrable Forrest to get there.   The shortcut puts us at risk while we’re in the forest, but it cuts days off the trip.  It’s worth the risk unless, of course, we get attacked by Killer Koalas, Piranha Hummingbirds, or Vampire Tarantulas.  You may ask again, why?  My friend, Mischievous Raven is picking up some survival gear from his friends over at A to Z AMMO.  He assures me we can make the trip safely.

“Hey Eerie.  A little help.”

Glancing up I see what appears at first sight to be the regurgitation of debris from an Army surplus store that has somehow been animated into a moving heap of junk.  Then an ebony wing waves frantically from under the moving pile.  Mischievous, is that you?

“Yeah, who else?  Now, can you get this stuff off me?”

Sure.  I pick off bandoliers of ammunition, automatic weapons, a selection of swords and camouflage everything.  Finally a familiar face pears out.  Is all this stuff really necessary?

“When I told my buddy at A to Z where we were going he through in a bunch of stuff he wants us to test.”

I’m afraid to ask.

“Check it out Vampire Tarantula repellent.  Apply this to any exposed skin and breathe easy.”

Peuu.  Breath easy, I can’t breathe at all.

“Don’t use it.  I promise to drag your dehydrated husk out of the forest after they’ve sucked you dry.”

Okay okay.  What else you got.

“Killer Koala pheromones.  We’re supposed to leave a trail of this as we go.  It makes the Koalas horny and they forget all about eating.”

Hmmm.

“Next we have this camouflage gear.  This will keep away the Piranha Hummingbirds.  And finally, a digital camera that will upload any pictures we take directly to A to Z’s server.”

How is that supposed to help?

“Since no one has ever seen a Black Tiger and lived, they asked if you would take a picture for them.”

This would be my last act on the planet, to send your buddies a picture of a Black Tiger.

“Yeah you know for science and all.”

Fine let’s get started.

At the bi-weekly gathering of Dwarves, the topic of clichés came up, again.  So I decided to repost this blog.

 From November 12, 2010.  You know all those clichés about ‘time’? Like: time is fleeting, time heels all wounds, only time will tell, time is of the essence, time waits for no man, in the nick of time, time after time, a stitch in time saves nine, time is money, in due time, at a time like this, there is no time like the present, the times they are a changing.  

We have; good time, bad time, due time, on time, in time, only time, no time, spare time, same time, next time, big time, first time, full-time, part-time, easy time, closing time, save time, waste time, hard time, hot time, kill time, borrowed time, long time, short time, lost time, mark time. 

I could go on and on because, I’ve got time on my hands, but time is running out, so let’s make time. Making time; what the hell does that even mean?

For writers, clichés are the quicksand of language. (I’m going somewhere with this I promise) Time and again, (there’s another one) writers are cautioned not to use clichés and yet you can’t put time in a sentence without risking the use of a cliché and yet that is the job of any writer worthy of the title. Do we falter? Continuously. But try we must, not to fall into the quicksand. Among the Evil Dwarves I admit I am the guiltiest of this infraction. So for this I throw myself on the mercy of the court and ask for lenience. My point here is (I told you this was going somewhere) that writers are not perfect, but we do our best to spin a worthy tail and follow the thousands of mind numbing rules that the industry imposes. So forgive us our indiscretions, allow for the misplaced comma or the occasional cliché and instead enjoy the story. Because in the end the story is what it’s all about.

I think I’ve wasted enough time. It’s about time I get on with this. If you can think of any notable ‘times’ I’ve missed, please chastise me in the comment box.   

As you know by this time, I always leave you with a quotation.

“Everything changed the day he figured out there was just enough time for the important things in life.”  D. Andreas 

Write On,

Eerie