A Writer Discovers the Famous Dundee Cemetery

A Writer Discovers the Famous Dundee Cemetery

by Kate Laity

The Dundee Dragon (picture by Kate Laity)

I have a lot of New England friends who enjoy exploring the graveyards of the northeast and probing the histories behind them, so it’s a treat to be able to visit an even older cemetery here in Dundee where I am spending Christmas. Of course the big holiday in Scotland is Hogmanay, but I have to be back in Ireland this year, so I’m going to miss it. Dundee also has a famous dragon as well, though it’s best known for the three Js: jute, jam and journalism. The jute mills once employed much of the population, until jute production was outsourced to India in the 1920s. Orange marmalade continues to be a staple of British tables. And Dundee remains the home of DC Thomson, creator of The Beano, The Dandy and The Sunday Post.

In the Howff (picture by Kate Laity)

The most famous old graveyard in Dundee is the Howff which lies in the centre of town.The land once belonged to the Greyfriars Monastery, founded in the thirteenth century. When the monasteries were dissolved in the sixteenth century, the land was given to the city by Mary, Queen of Scots, for a burial ground. Monuments from this time dot the space.

"Afternoon light" (picture by Kate Laity)

While its primary purpose was to welcome the dead, the Howff also became the meeting place for the Nine Trades of Dundee, a sort of affiliation of skilled trades including bakers, shoemakers, glovers and tailors. The peaceful surroundings of the beautiful setting with its trees and green lawn offered a neutral territory as well as  pleasant space. The trades would often gather around the gravesite of one of their departed elders.

"In memorium" (picture by Kate Laity)

The Howff is a wonderfully picturesque graveyard; it was already full up in the 19th century, so there haven’t been any new inhabitants since then. While most old burial grounds have a multitude of spooky stories about restless dwellers, there seems to be a shortage of such tales for Dundee’s most famous cemetery. Maybe it’s just the straightforward attitude of the Scots, but the only spirits that seem to roam at night come from a bottle!

Kate Laity is a NEHW member

5 Secrets an 8-year old Natalie Wood Can Teach You About Persuasive Writing

This article originally appeared on the Copyblogger website.

5 Secrets an 8-year old Natalie Wood Can Teach You About Persuasive Writing

by Susan Daffron

Like a lot of people, every year my husband and I watch Miracle on 34th Street during the holiday season.

One of my favorite scenes in the movie is right at the end when Natalie Wood is riding in the car with her mom and Fred Gailey.

The camera focuses in on Natalie sitting in the back seat of the car staring out the window looking bored and kind of annoyed, mumbling “I believe, I believe …”

Then, there’s a moment where the camera closes in a bit on her eyes as they widen in shock.

She shrieks, “Stop, Uncle Fred! Stop! Stop! Stop!”

The camera angle switches and you see Natalie running up the hill to the house that she had asked Santa Claus to give her.

Persuasive writing is like that.

When it works, the writing takes someone from a neutral state of bored indifference to excitement.

I think of that split-second transition as the “magic moment.”

Considering Natalie Wood was only 8 years old when the movie was made, she does an amazing job of conveying just what happens during that magic moment when suddenly something that seemed impossible becomes real.

To reach that magic moment in your copywriting, here are a 5 secrets you can learn from an 8-year old Natalie.

1. You need a big story

People don’t respond to boring. In fact, one of the worst insults an 8-year old can throw at you is “that’s boring.”

A story like, “What if Santa were real?” gets the attention of pretty much everyone, even those with short attention spans.

It gets people talking.

In Miracle on 34th Street, even the grandkids of the district attorney knew about the legal case. (And thought grandpa had a whole lot of nerve picking on Santa.)

Is your message something worth sharing? Could it be?

2. You need a big vision

Unlike most kids, instead of asking for a toy, Natalie Wood asks Santa for a house. She hands Kris Kringle a magazine photograph of a house and explains that she doesn’t want a dollhouse. She wants a REAL house.

She says, “If you’re really Santa Claus, you can get it for me. And if you can’t, you’re only a nice man with a white beard, like mother said.”

Natalie had a big vision for what life would be like living in a house in the suburbs versus living in an apartment in the city.

She doesn’t like her Manhattan apartment, and explains that her house would have a back yard with a big tree to put a swing on. She had a clear picture of exactly what she wanted.

With your writing, can you paint a transformative picture that inspires people to fill in the rest using their own imagination?

3. You need a big emotion

People do almost everything for emotional, not rational reasons.

It’s been said that Santa Claus doesn’t need a marketing department. What’s not to love about free gifts for boys and girls around the world? And the “spirit of Christmas” embodies noble emotions like generosity, love, and compassion.

As Kris Kringle says, “Christmas isn’t just a day, it’s a frame of mind.”

In your writing, you need to tap into emotions, whether they are noble like generosity or more negative like fear, greed, and vanity.

After all, there’s no logical reason to believe in Santa Claus or ever eat M&Ms, cookies or doughnuts. Yet people do. Krispy Kreme and Mrs. Fields are ample proof of that.

Why do people continue to buy fat-laden doughnuts and cookies? Because they taste yummy and eating them makes you feel good.

What are your reader’s biggest pain points? What make him feel good?

4. You need big proof

Natalie Wood wants to believe that Kris Kringle is really Santa and looks for proof. At Macy’s she sees him speak Dutch to a little girl and is thrilled to discover he’s not wearing fake padding on his jolly tummy. Then when she tugs on his beard, it doesn’t come off!

She’s excited to tell her mom what she’s learned, but mom raises objections. “Many men have long beards like that” and “I speak French, but I’m not Joan of Arc.”

Many types of proof exist. For example, you might include testimonials in your copy, but that might not be enough. You may need something bigger.

In the movie, the ultimate proof is the existence of the house. (And the real magic is finding the cane tucked into a corner.)

Are you giving people enough reasons to have faith in what you offer? (“Faith is believing in things when common sense tells you not to.”)

5. You need to believe

People want to believe a lot of things they think they can’t do. They might secretly want to travel around the world or write a book.

Generally, there’s no real reason why these people couldn’t travel or write; they just think they can’t.

Good copywriting taps into the emotions and dreams people want to believe anyway. Natalie Wood wanted to believe that Santa would bring her a house, but “common sense” kept telling her it would never happen.

Until it did.

She says, “You were right, Mommy! Mommy said if things don’t turn out right at first…you’ve still got to believe. I kept believing. You were right, Mommy!”

Does your writing give people the joy of realizing a dream they want to believe is possible? Could it?

Of course, in the movie, the logistics of actually buying the house, mom and Fred getting married, moving, and so forth work themselves out. By then, it’s just details.

That’s true of great copy too.

Once the magic moment happens, there’s no turning back.

About the Author: Susan Daffron, aka The Book Consultant owns a book and software publishing company. In addition to teaching aspiring authors about book publishing and putting on the Self-Publishers Online Conference every May, she also just relaunched and is the editor of ComputorCompanion.com, which offers ideas and advice to grow your business.

The NEHW Creeps into Sci-Fi Saturday Night

The NEHW Creeps into Sci-Fi Saturday Night

by Stacey Longo

Several New England Horror Writer members have been appearing or are scheduled to appear on Sci-Fi Saturday Night.

Craig D. B. Patton’s short story “Aftershocks” was spotlighted on the site’s Fiction Friday entry for 12/10/11. Bob Bois had a flash fiction piece appear on the site on 12/16/11, taken from his blog.

Kristi Petersen Schoonover was featured on the podcast dated 12/17/11, talking about Skeletons in the Swimming Hole and her upcoming novel, Bad Apple. You can download her interview here.

NEHW members on the slate to appear on the Sci-Fi Saturday Night podcast before the end of the year are Kasey Shoemaker, who will be interviewed on the 12/24/11 show, and Rob Watts, scheduled for 12/31/11.

Editor’s note: Stacey Longo is a NEHW member and part of the Publicity Committee.

Author’s Take on Holiday Classic

This entry originally appeared on NEHW member Stacey Longo’s blog.

Here Comes the Sun

by Stacey Longo

I’m not crazy about The Year Without a Santa Claus, and as you know, I despise Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, but the one holiday cartoon that I hate more than a root canal is Frosty The Snowman. Just hearing this self-centered, nihilistic boob’s voice gives me the dry heaves. Sometimes the wet heaves, too.

This cartoon starts off with a bunch of ably-challenged children being let out of school on Christmas Eve. I’m assuming they’re challenged, because one of them actually says “snow is good” when they’re let out of class, which is, of course, crazy. They decide to build a snowman, and one of these special kids wants to name their creation “Oatmeal,” which further proves my case that these kids are challenged. But I digress.

The magician who was hired to entertain these kids on the last day of school before winter break tosses out his hat, which lands on Frosty’s head, bringing him to life. The first thing he says is “Happy Birthday!” which would be nice if he was remembering what Christmas is actually celebrating. But no, the selfish sacrilegious snowball is talking about his own birthday, which he clearly feels is more important than, say, the birthday of the son of God. What a pompous egomaniac!

As soon as this numbskull is born, he immediately starts complaining that it is so hot he’s melting. Hey, stupid. Maybe you should have thought about that before coming to life in a temperate climate.

Frosty leads a parade through the center of town, scaring the bejeepers out of the townspeople. One poor policeman is so alarmed by the walking, talking snow abomination that he swallows his own traffic whistle, causing (I am sure) permanent damage to the man’s trachea. Frosty (I am sure) doesn’t care.

Frosty now reveals his true nature. Instead of buying a train ticket to the North Pole like a decent snowman, he kidnaps a little girl, Karen, and hops in to a refrigerated boxcar, which, might I remind you, is illegal. Of course, the little girl that is stuck freight-hopping with Frosty starts to suffer from hypothermia and frostbite. Good job, Frosty. He bullies some woodland creatures into making her a fire, but then the magician, who simply wants the hat Frosty stole from him back, blows out the fire. Apparently this scrawny magician has the lung capacity of the wolf from the Three Little Pigs, which I never would have guessed from looking at him.

The highlight of this nauseating cartoon is when Frosty and Karen find a greenhouse in the middle of the frozen tundra…as you do. Inside the greenhouse, Frosty melts to a puddle in what I like to think of as a slow, agonizing death. Then Santa comes along and, proving he is looooong overdue to retire, brings him back to life. Really, Santa, what are you thinking? Frosty just kidnapped a kid and tried to freeze her to death! Also, I was taught that only one being was ever able to die and then rise from the grave, but I believe we’ve already established that this cartoon was written by a bunch of atheists. And really, who needs Jesus when you’ve got a self-centered, parading snow terrorist to worship?

The only nice thing that I can say about this cartoon is that at least it ends before Frosty can insist that Christmas be renamed in his honor. I say, bring on the sun!

Editor’s note: Stacey Longo also has an entry about Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer on her blog.

Have You Heard of Santa’s Traveling Companion, the Krampus?

Have You Heard of Santa’s Traveling Companion, the Krampus?

by Bracken MacLeod

Being more of an every-day-is-Halloween kind of guy, you’d be correct in assuming that I’m not a big fan of Christmas. The enforced cheer, expected gift-giving, and seeming endlessness of the season all leave me feeling colder than a winter Nor’easter. With the renewed interest in an Alpine figure who used to be associated with the holidays, however, some of the cheer of the season has crept into my spirit.

We’re all aware that during this time of year Santa Claus is the figure held up as the arbiter of who has been naughty and nice. Where Santa used to leave bad little children a lump of coal in their stockings instead of presents, his role in children’s programming and as a spokesmodel for a variety of wholesome family products has left him toothless and passive-aggressive (the jolly old elf today simply rebukes unruly children for their wickedness by failing to stop at their houses on Christmas Eve). It wasn’t always so, however. For centuries in Europe, St. Nicholas (the precursor to Santa Claus) has been known to have had a variety of traveling companions entrusted with making sure evil children got their just desserts. In recent years, one in particular is standing head and shoulders above the rest, having made his way to Twenty-First Century America and into my heart.

Picture courtesy of the Pushed Buttons Burning-in website

The Krampus is the ancient embodiment of accountability for wickedness balanced against St. Nicholas’ reward for virtue. He appears as a wild, bestial, goat-like figure wearing chains and bells that foretell his coming. As jolly old St. Nick is out leaving good children gifts and treats as a reward for good behavior, Krampus is prowling the night dishing out punishment for those who have fallen short of his exacting moral standards. He carries with him two fearsome instruments that should quicken the pulse of anyone who has been naughty more often than nice. First is a tied bundle of birch branches known as a “ruten” that he uses to whip naughty children (the beating is euphemistically called a “birching”). Second is a sack or a wooden tub that he wears on his back. Truly rotten children are stuffed in the sack to be taken away for further punishments that may include drowning in a river and/or inclusion in Krampus’ own Christmas dinner.

Unlike the modern Kris Kringle who doles out a half-assed punishment by failing to reward naughty kids (ostensibly making Christmas morning like any ordinary day), the Krampus does twice the work he needs to do just in case you were thinking of doing something bad later. Unwilling to let anyone become too comfortable with their own piety, Krampus still visits good families during the holidays, leaving them small gold-colored rutenas a reminder to remain morally upright. Krampus visits the good and bad alike — the holiday version of Scared Straight.

Although Krampusnacht is typically celebrated in parts of Europe on December 5 (the night before the Feast of St. Nicholas) with parades, elaborate Krampus costumes, and public birchings, I am as happy as a little school child to find that he has started to infiltrate the whole of the holiday season. Being a horror writer and fan, it really brings opens up the splendor and joy of the season to have my own Christmas demon waiting in the wings to inject a little horror into the holidays and scare the bejeepers out of everyone whether they need an attitude adjustment or not.

Gruβ vom Krampus!

Bracken MacLeod is a member of the NEHW.

Thoughts on Revising Versus Redrafting

This entry originally appeared on NEHW member Craig D.B. Patton’s blog.

On Starting Again

by Craig D.B. Patton

Revising vs. redrafting. Tinkering with what you wrote the first time vs. tossing all of it in the (virtual) bin because you realize you just plain whiffed on the first attempt. I think I’ve had a habit of resisting the latter. It’s harder, emotionally, for me to accept the fact that I invested time and energy and didn’t actually create something worth keeping. I like it much better when the lightning bolt flies straight and true and fries something with a really solid BOOM!

(picture courtesy of Wikipedia)

But it doesn’t always. And I’ve missed enough times now to be better at recognizing and accepting it. It’s also become one of the times when I remember what bands go through in the studio. I’ve never been in a band, but I’ve read enough articles and books to have a sense of how some of them work and how bumpy and long and curving the road to creating some of my favorite music was. Take after take after take. Experiment after experiment that seems great conceptually and then just lies there on the floor when tried. Songs that have no chorus. Choruses that have no verses. Bits of instrumentation that don’t work until combined, which happens sometimes by design and sometimes accidentally. Hours and hours of horrible music before the good stuff arrives, if it does at all.

But the seed idea, if it’s good enough, survives through all that.

Which is the same with stories. A good idea is a good idea. The problems come when trying to tell the story. And sometimes it takes a while.

I have a song/story like that now. The first take/draft was fun while I was doing it. There are some good images and moments, particularly in the second half of it. But it wound up…meh. And meh doesn’t get fixed by cutting a few paragraphs and rewriting a few more. So I’ve marched back into the studio. Changed a few effects pedals. Reworked some instrumentation. The red light is on.

Time for another take.

What To Do After Writing Your First Novel

What To Do After Writing Your First Novel

by David Price

This is all new to me. I finished writing my first novel just five months ago. It’s been a long time coming. There’s been so much to do since I finished the first draft, more than I ever imagined. I knew I’d have to edit it, but I never guessed how much work that would be, because I’d only written short stories before. I found out I needed to have a website, start a blog, as well as get active on facebook and twitter. Last and not least, I needed to network. As far as networking goes, the best thing I have done to date was join the New England Horror Writers.

The NEHW seemed like a good, solid group, right away. I immediately got involved in the facebook discussions and tried to help by contributing to the website. I had a chance to meet some of the members at Rock and Shock, and then about a month later at Anthocon. Those two events were great places to start and meet a few people, but the best chance to really get to know some people was going to be the Christmas party at John McIlveen’s.

Driving there was a bit of an adventure for me. I had trouble following the mapquest directions, and found myself wishing I had taken the GPS from my wife’s car. Overall, Haverhill is not that far from my home city of Peabody (pronounced Peebuddy, Jason), but once I got past Georgetown, I was in unfamiliar territory. It probably took me about a half hour longer to get there than it should have, because I turned around and backtracked so many times. In the end, I made it though.

From left to right: Scott Goudsward and David Price playing pool (picture courtesy of John M. McIlveen)

Now, I’ve been an introvert all my life, so meeting new people isn’t really my specialty. I’m sure a lot of you other writer types out there can relate to this. I walked into the conference room where the party was being held and all those old anxieties came to the surface. All the seats at the table were taken, which didn’t make it any easier to blend in. Luckily, Dan Keohane got up from the food table and asked in anyone wanted to play pool. A few of us teamed up and we played some pool. This gave me a chance to mingle with just a couple people to start and break the ice. As an added bonus, our host John McIlveen brought down enough alcohol to supply a frat party. I’ve been in enough social situations to know the lubricating powers of alcohol, so I grabbed a beer and tried to relax.

People came and went, but I had the chance to talk to Paul McMahon, Scott Goudsward, John McIlveen and Tracy Carbone during the day. Eventually, Stacy Longo and Jason Harris showed up, the two people who I’ve had the most contact up until now. I’m not so good at mingling that I had the chance to meet everybody, but hopefully I’ll get there eventually. I’m learning more all the time. Everybody had their own experiences and their own advice to share. The NEHW is a very friendly, supportive community, and I’m glad I can be a part of it. As day turned to night, the partygoers dwindled to a level I was more naturally comfortable with.

At eight o’clock, those of us who had stuck it out that long, gathered around the television so we could check out Tracy Carbone’s appearance on Animal Planet. This was the best time for me. We all got a kick out of Tracy’s appearance on some show that had to do with exotic pets. It lightened the mood up for a fun conversation. At that point, Scott Woolridge and Gardner Goldsmith were telling stories about convention experiences, other writers they have met, and the British sci-fi comedy, Red Dwarf, a show I had never seen before. Gardner really had some great stories to share about Red Dwarf and what the show meant to him. Gardner and a friend of his even flew over to England one year, just to watch the show on tv.

As Gardner was telling us this story, he described his big, burly friend who went with him. He looked around the room, reached over and tapped me on the shoulder, “Kind of like this guy,” he said. I have to chuckle about this. I have been part of a few different social circles over my life, such as hockey players, construction workers, Boy Scout fathers and now writers. Everything being relative, I seem to be some sort of hybrid. When I am around the athletes and construction workers, I am generally one of the smaller guys, but when I hang out with Boy Scout dads and other writers, it goes the other way.

Anyway, it was a fun day filled with interesting people. I’ve never completely fit in with the athletes and construction workers. Nothing against them, mind you, I’ve been part of that crowd for over twenty-five years. Still, it’s nice to finally find a group of people who can sit around all day talking about H. P. Lovecraft, Star Wars, the next Stephen King mini-series and the zombie apocalypse. I hope I get the chance to get to know more of this group over the coming year. Maybe by the 2012 Christmas party I’ll even know the names of the others that I didn’t get a chance to meet. I guess I’ll wrap this up now. I think I’ll watch one more episode of Red Dwarf on Netflix before bed.

Editor’s Note: Along with being a NEHW member, David Price is part of the NEHW Publicity Committee.

The Mirroring of Life and Fiction

This entry originally appeared on NEHW member Inanna Arthen’s blog.

Hey, how did that fiction get in my real life?

by Inanna Arthen

Peter Coyote (picture courtesy of texasgoldmovie.com)

There has always been a consistent pattern in my life whereby my fiction and my actual experiences echo and mirror each other in the weirdest ways.The first time I encountered actor Peter Coyote was in Steven Spielberg’s E.T., in which he played the mysterious scientist tracking the little alien. I’d never heard of Mr. Coyote before. But I confess: it was a case of crush at first sight. I’m not prone to fannish excesses–I won’t even collect autographs–so I didn’t look up Mr. Coyote’s biography or read gossip magazines or anything like that. Probably almost any other fan of his knew a lot more about his background than I did. But I loved him in E.T.,and I watched for him in other things. Many years ago, I went to a Red Cross blood drive to donate blood. I can no longer pinpoint exactly when this was, except that I’m fairly sure it was between 1982 and 1989, and I think the blood drive was in Acton, Massachusetts, where I lived in the 80s. It wouldn’t have been far from there, anyway. I had taken some film magazines with me to read – Premiere, I think. This was during my efforts to break into film acting locally. I even read Variety.After I finished with the donation and was resting, the way the Red Cross always makes you do so you won’t just jump up, barf and pass out, I was reading the magazines, and one of the blood drive volunteers came by see how I was doing. I said I was doing great, and then she picked up one of the magazines and said, “Oh, could I just look at these?” I said of course, and as she flipped through them she said, “I have a brother who’s an actor, and I always like to see if they say anything about him.”“Oh, really?” I said, pricking up my ears for a possible industry contact. “What’s his name?”

“Peter Coyote.”

I didn’t respond very politely, because to me, this was like saying she was related to Justin Bieber. It’s amazing that I didn’t jump up and pass out. “Oh, you can’t be, you’re making that up!” I said, or something like it. (In my defense, I was running a pint low at that moment.)

She looked a bit offended and said, “No, I’m not, why would I make that up? Most people have never heard of him.”

“Of course I’ve heard of him! He was in E.T.! He’s a doll!” (I’m sure they took a bit more than a pint, actually.)

She seemed rather pleased at that, so I hope I redeemed myself. “He is a doll,” she said, laughing.

That was the gist of our discussion – she had other donors to see to – and I didn’t even think to ask her own name, or look at her badge if she was wearing one. (I think it just said, “Volunteer” or whatever the term is they use.) I always wondered if she was really on the level. Why would a movie actor’s sister be volunteering at a blood drive in Acton, Massachusetts, fer gosh sakes?

But then, why wouldn’t she be? Actors come from all over the place. I lived in Acton and I was trying to be one.

But now it’s the 2010s and I’m trying to be a novelist. My third book, All the Shadows of the Rainbow, is set during the 1960s, plus a few years on either side. I lived through the 1960s, but just as I did with the 1950s and The Longer the Fall, I’ve been doing what I call “total immersion research.” I’m reading as much contemporary material as I can find, and watching raw film footage from that era, and generally working to enfold myself in the zeitgeist of the times, so I can, not just write it, but live it from the inside out.

(courtesy of Peter Coyote's website)

By complete happenstance, I discovered that Peter Coyote had been deeply involved in the 1960s counterculture –he was a member of the Diggers and the Free Family, lived on several communes, worked with the San Francisco Mime Troupe, and was at the center of a lot of things that happened in those years. He’s written a memoir about it all, called Sleeping Where I Fall. I learned about it from a random reference on the Red Room website, which I rarely visit, but I just happened to click over there on the day when this book was mentioned. I instantly located a copy. I’ve been reading it for the past week or so.

I’ve been enthralled with the book, because I hadn’t known any of this about Peter Coyote’s personal history. It helps explain why, the instant I saw him onscreen, I just felt this “click.” I’ve been relating strongly to so much that he says in his book. I knew I liked him as an actor, but I never realized that he was what I think of as, “one of us.” He does have a younger sister, although he doesn’t give any clues as to her life or whereabouts. Sleeping Where I Fall was published in 1998, and I’d love to hear what Mr. Coyote thinks about the social and political developments of the last 13 years. I’d guess we share similar views.

Sleeping Where I Fall is going to be one of the most helpful resource books I read, and I’ve got a stack of them. But I’d be enjoying it even if I wasn’t writing All the Shadows of the Rainbow. To add yet more synchronicity to the mix, I found a documentary called Commune by running keyword searches on Blockbuster. When it arrived, it turned out to be about Black Bear Ranch, one of the Free Family communes that Peter Coyote lived with, and Mr. Coyote appears in the film.

It’s just strange how themes and people can weave in and out of our lives in violation of all probability or logic. Over and over again, I’ve been downright spooked by the way things that I’m writing tie into my real life in completely unexpected and inexplicable ways. It’s part of the reason that I’m one of those writers who feel that their fictional universes and characters have wills of their own. I don’t calculate and control the stories I tell, or the people who inhabit them. My characters tell me what’s going to happen and I simply record it … and sometimes, I feel like I’m living it with them. Every once in a while, I feel like I’m living out my fiction in the (so-called) real world.

You might think I’d be more nervous about blowing things up in my novels, in that case! But what good is art if it doesn’t shake you up sometimes?

Run into a Wall, Crawl Through the Nearest Window

This post originally appeared on Benjamin Roesch’s blog, the almost right words.

Post #17: Crawling Through the Nearest Window

Doing National Novel Writing Month is exhilarating. I think this is mostly because I’ve never written, outside of education, for a capital “D” Deadline and the need to complete X quantity by Y date is a utilitarian sort of enterprise that’s added a different timbre to this writing experience than others whose end point hinges on a self-imposed deadline.

I’ve decided that NANOWRIMO is more about stamina than it is about creativity. Not to shit on creativity. Not at all. But the truth is that the writers who have the best chance of starting and finishing a task like NANOWRIMO are those not necessarily with the keenest imaginations, but with the deepest well of endurance. Those who can follow that sage piece of writing advice that I sometimes think is the only truly useful one: ass in chair.

Writing on a deadline makes you solve problems quickly. My analogy is that when your story runs into a wall, find and crawl through the nearest window. Can’t find a window? Tough. Invent one. I’m writing a sci-fi/horror mash-up because it sounded like a novel (pun so very much intended) change to my usual subject matter (realistic literary fiction) that would breathe enough fresh wind into my sails to make it to the finish line. What I failed to realize is that genre writing is a lot harder than I thought it was.

Of course, all kinds of writing are difficult in their own way, but what I’m talking about is closer to the necessity in genre to respect the beginning-middle-end story structure. I’m not writing a book about an existential crisis that doesn’t need to have an ending to be considered successful. The plot is front and center this time out and the plot needs to, perhaps above all things, make sense to the reader. And not sense as in “real,” but sense as in “consistent” and “logical.” There’s a difference.

(picture courtesy of Wikipedia)

Consider The Catcher in the Rye. In Salinger’s classic, one need not believe that the things that Holden does are the only things that could have happened. For instance, after Holden’s conversation with the nuns in the diner, we don’t feel the need to make the meet-up logical or the basis to judge what happens next. It may affect the next action, but it doesn’t have to. Nor does the book have to really go anywhere, to end up someplace in order to be a great book, which is, of course, why it doesn’t. For Christ’s Sake, the book’s final image is a kid on a merry go round! In many ways this is exactly what makes a book like Catcher so great and so lasting–it prizes emotion and character above action. And, quite frankly, character is more interesting.

But it all depends on how you look at it. Seen through certain eyes, too large an emphasis on character could be a liability. Most people I know who don’t like Catcher don’t like it because they don’t like Holden, not because “nothing happens.” And if they don’t like it because nothing happens, well, they should probably put down Salinger and read Blue Dot, my NANOWRIMO book. Because, let me tell you, all kinds of things are “happening” in my book.

But, of course, making things happen is its own kind of problem. One problem being that the “happenings” have different rules in a plot driven piece than in a character driven piece. Not dramatically different, but different all the same. In genre, the cause and effect sequence needs to be cleaner, leaner, and ultimately, more satisfying to the reader. After all, that’s what you’re selling them. No one wants to buy tickets to the circus only to find, after the lights have dimmed and the curtains have closed, that they’re actually at an antique show. It’s false

(picture courtesy of Wikipedia)

advertising. In filmic parlance, you might compare the ending of Die Hard to the ending of the last season of The Sopranos. If Die Hard had ended with a long, slow fade out on the bloodied face of John Mclaine before his final show down with Hans and his reunion with his wife, and we were given no closure, no sense that the good guy had prevailed or that the estranged couple had re-united, myself, and a lot of other late 80′s Bruce Willis fans, would have wanted their money back. The Sopranos could get away with such an ambiguous ending because the show was always more about Tony than it was about what Tony was doing. Die Hard is about a guy too, but for that story to make sense to us, that guy needs to always be doing things that lead places.

I guess what I’m saying is that I choose a genre piece for NANOWRIMO because I thought it would liberating, and perhaps easier, to write. But I’m realizing now this was a false assumption. Genre isn’t harder, but it sure as hell isn’t much easier. Which leads back to the earlier point that all kinds of writing are hard.

A problem for me is that I’m not used to writing plots that need to add up so neatly and my characters keep trying to stop my story and let themselves come front and center. Part of me feels like they’re stalling because they don’t know what to do next. I’m on track to finish my book on time, or at least get to 50,000 words on time, but right now the ending keeps getting further away. And the further away it gets, the more I’m getting the feeling that Blue Dot may just be the world’s first alien invasion story that ends with a kid on a merry go round.