Humble Fiction Cafe

Supernatural Webseries: Silverweed

2010-10-21T06:56:00.003-06:00

Silverweed by Dorlana Vann is a supernatural fairy tale. This Little Red Riding Hood inspired werewolf dark fantasy is being serialized on Supernatural Fairy Tales blog. (It will also be available in eBook at all major online distributors in Dec 2010.) Here's the blurb:

Once upon a time Granny was attacked by a werewolf. Eighteen years later her grandson, Aiden Young, arrives in Indiana for his aunt’s funeral, and his unfortunate discovery of the family secret leads to a fatal mistake. Before the weekend is over, he’s trapped by a blizzard along with his superstitious cousin, Diesel, and Scarlet, Diesel’s manipulative girlfriend. In his grandmother’s spooky, old house in the middle of the woods, the teen faces life and death decisions: who can be trusted, and who needs to be saved? However, he must first figure out what the true monster is… werewolf or fear. Because in this Little Red Riding Hood-inspired supernatural fairy tale, the roles of prey and predator become interchangeable.

You can read more about it, here: http://www.supernaturalfairytales.net/p/silverweed-serialized-supernatural.html

The Ghosts of Christmas

2009-12-23T07:31:00.003-06:00

Hi Friends!

This month a few HFC members took the challenge of capturing the spirit of Scrooges’ ghosts and using them as inspiration for our own short stories. They are posted on Supernatural Fairy Tales Blogazine. Here are the links:

The Ghost of Christmas Past: The Gift by Dorlana Vann

The Ghost of Christmas Present: And All of Their Degree by Gary Denton

The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come: Strangers Both Merciful and Horrifying
by Sharolyn Gales - Part I ( Part II is um... yet to come)

Book Review - A Cup of Comfort for Dog Lovers II by Colleen Sell

2009-11-29T16:14:00.000-06:00

by Sheryl Tuttle

Check out my book review of A Cup of Comfort for Dog Lovers II by Colleen Sell, WordProverb: Book Review - A Cup of Comfort for Dog Lovers II by Colleen Sell. Our very own Humble Fiction Cafe writer, Susan H. Miller, contributed a moving story not to be missed about a sassy Dachshund named Baron von Muttleheimer.

Short Story: Body by Dorlana Vann

2009-10-15T12:26:00.014-06:00

Body
by Dorlana Vann

I watched as a guy in a dark suit dug up Beatrice Beaumont Virgil, April 5, 1965 – August 19, 1998. Funeral flowers still fresh, dirt still moist, Until we meet again, her epitaph.

I stood in the shadows and dared to watch a moment longer before deciding I would just make note of his car license on my way out. If I had to say, I would guess his height as six feet and give him a generous build of medium. And I would only use this information if there were questions. Otherwise, I’d rather my secret after-hours visits stayed my secret.

As I turned to leave, the moody clouds drifted, allowing the full moon to tattle. I limped away as fast as I could, but my bad knee had started acting up again. I could only hope I was far enough to seem a ghost. Just as I began to breathe, I heard the man shout, “Hey you... stop!”

A gun fired; the bullet ricocheted off the tombstone next to me. I stopped.

“Now get over here,” he said. “Slowly.”

As I approached the gravesite, I could see that he had dug about halfway down into the grave. He held a shovel in his right hand and a gun in his left. “You’re not going to run are you?” he asked. His appearance seemed rather ordinary— until our eyes met. I’m not easily spooked, but his keen stare alarmed the hair on the back of my neck.

“No,” I said.

He tucked the gun in his pants and then threw me the shovel. “Start digging.”

I dropped the shovel down into the thigh-deep hole and grunted as I followed it inside.

“What are you doing out here this time of night?” he said as he sat down and wiped his brow.

“I’m the groundskeeper.”

“That’s strange. I did my homework; there are no employees at night.”

“I’m not supposed to be here either.” The shovel sank into the dirt easily enough, but my muscles complained when I started shoveling it out of the hole.
“Hmm,” he said. “So, what are you doing here?”

“It’s peaceful at night.”

“So you work here... and come here to hang out? Kind of an eerie guy. But I suppose the right kind... if one has to exhume a body.”

I kept digging, and the man kept watching until the shovel caused a clunking noise.

“All right,” he said. He sat with his legs dangling over the side of the hole. “Now start digging on the sides so we can open my treasure chest.”

When I had finished my task, the man jumped in beside me. It took quite a few hard pushes before we finally had the lid all the way open.

I generally have to be content with a mental image of my residents—unless their loved ones are kind enough to leave me a picture—I couldn’t help but comb my hair with my fingers to tidy up a bit before I met her.

Her long blonde hair flowed gracefully over her petite shoulders. Rosy cheeks and ruby lips highlighted powdered fair skin. “Beautiful.”

POW! I felt the deafening discharge from my fingers to my toes. Beatrice received a bullet hole in the middle of her forehead. I had stopped breathing.
“Hmm,” the grave robber said. “Grab her arms.”

“What?”

It took him aiming his weapon at me before I comprehended the instructions.
“Grab her arms. I’ll get her feet.”

Heavier than she looked, the first attempts at getting her out of the grave were grotesque. I wanted to lay her back in her bed, fold her arms back across her body... smooth her hair.

Finally, we had her in a somewhat normal position lying in the grass next to her assumed final resting place.

My dilated eyes absorbed a sudden explosion of light. When I regained my vision, I realized the man was snapping pictures.

I couldn’t withhold my curiosity a moment longer. It had fused together with fear and sympathy for Beatrice and formed a knot in the pit of my stomach. “I do realize that this is none of my business, and I really shouldn’t be asking you anything, but...”

“I don’t off chicks,” he said. His chest heaved in and out, just like mine.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s why I’m doing this. That was your question... right?”

I nodded.

He pulled a flask out of his jacket, put it to his mouth, and took a drink. Surprisingly, he handed it to me. As the unexpected bland taste of the pure water quenched my dry tongue, he spoke, “Some asshole hired me to kill a woman. This is just what I do when I’m put in the situation.”

I swallowed hard. The liquid felt like a tank going down my throat. The man standing beside me murdered people for money. And I was the creepy one. “So you’re going to pretend that Beatrice is the woman you were supposed to kill?”

“Beatrice,” he said and stared down at her. “They don’t want them at their doorstep. All I need is proof. I did a lot of obituary searching to find her. Same facial features, hair color, age.”

“What about the real girl?”

“She’s on a plane as we move our lips.”

We stood there for a moment: the atmosphere thick with the smell of death and the moonlight animating tree shadows across Beatrice’s face.

“So, why did someone want her dead?” I asked.

“Don’t know... didn’t ask.”

I nodded.

“Let’s get her back down,” he said.

The chore of replacing her didn’t take as long as excavating her had, but I hated our method. We just dropped her in.

We climbed in after and put her back in the casket. Except for the bullet hole and the dirt in her hair, she looked like she did before we disturbed her. I said my goodbyes and shut the lid.

When I looked up at the assassin, his jaw was tense and his eyes and gun were focused on me. He said, “You know, I have to kill you now.”

I stopped to inhale the earthy air, to scratch my nose, and to think about my new home with Beatrice Virgil’s address. Until we meet again, my epitaph. “Yeah,” I said. “I know.”

The End

Body is one of the short stories from the dichotomy/opposites anthology Split -by The Humble Fiction Cafe.
Read the second half of this story here: Hell's Kitchen

Dorlana's website: http://www.dorlanavann.com/

Dorlana's blog: Supernatural Fairy Tales

Happy Halloween!

Episode 85, In Which Donna Chrissa Again Tilts at Twittermills

2009-09-30T11:25:00.002-06:00

Manuscripts are eating holes in my peaceful afternoon, like moths in an untended closet. My brother requested that I finish a short story begun several years ago (and that I restrain my language to an 8th grade level--not sure what that would be) and there is always The Novel About The Dog or a poem or the pulp-influenced short story...a nebulous galaxy of work whose gravitational pull has tossed me unexpectedly straight into the 'net, where time approximates work without every actually becoming work. Am I, therefore, being entertained?

And what about you? Are you reading this at a time when you could be reading a novel (or watching TV or training for the Iditarod)? Will the next several minutes at your computer turn into hours down a YouTube/blogosphere/e-mail rabbit hole in which images and ideas flash past and you grow indignant, happy, worried, relieved with every click? Are you entertained or informed or unable to tell whether there might be a difference?

We've discussed New Media somewhat in our group and I'm continually struck by the way we struggle for control of platform and content, both in terms of creation and in use. I'm particularly leery of the ideas promulgated by people who believe that interactivity (e.g. blogs, twitter feeds) is necessary. Really? Do you automatically check the website of potential authors the way you might for plumbers or business contacts? Do you buy the books or read the available chapters and move on? Have you ever purchased a self-published book? Does the unedited blog post or book bother you? What do you 'expect' from the authors you follow and (bonus question) why do you expect anything other than a good story? Have you every read a novel on your computer?

Perhaps I should alter my reading material from cranky essays on the decline of standards and thought and switch to more cheerful fare this afternoon, before I earn the title Resident Humbug. On the other hand, one always felt Statler and Waldorf had the most fun. :)

-- Chrissa

September 11, 2001

2009-09-07T14:19:00.002-06:00

It is the time of the year again when we are reminded of that awful day eight years ago that shook all of us old enough to remember to the absolute core.

Even without mention on the television news, "Where They Are Now" articles in magazines and the tragic, heart-wrenching pictures, I would not - could not - forget.

We all remember exactly where we were and what we were doing when the plane hit the first tower. I was driving to work with a colleague and we were laughing about our failed attempt to try a new "short-cut" to downtown Houston.

The announcement broke into our music program, and we both became silent, shocked and saddened by the horrible "accident." It never entered either of our minds that it was anything but a terrible tragedy.

It was on the elevator in our office building that someone told us the second tower had just been struck. That was when a cold chill ran through my entire body. Because I knew now that this was no random happening.

Then came United Flight 93.

As the rest of the day wore on, and the news worstened, I was reminded of the events surrounding John F. Kennedy's assasination from the fatal bullets to the capture of the shooter to his death by an obscure nightclub owner.

Numbness. The T.V. set in the conference room was one, and the entire staff was drawn to it again and again. Finally, it felt like my mind could take in no more horror.

The next few days - the ones in which no sleek, proud jets soared gracefully over our beautiful America - were surreal. Being the wife of a career Air Force flight engineer-turned commerical pilot instructor, flying was an integrel part of my life. I found myself staring into the still blue skies with the feeling that time had somehow become suspended.

Everybody was touched by 9/11. Everybody. I lost a cousin-by-marriage I had never met. Many people suffered far closer pain.

It was a little over two years later when I found myself both at Ground Zero, and the place in Somerset County, Pennsylvania where 93 went down.

Just before Christmas, I was visiting New York and ventured over to the site in blustery cold winds. Severe damage of some neighboring buildings was still evident, like the scars of someone gravely injured but alive. A crude hole had been carved out of the fence surrounding the spot where the twin towers had stood. Inside was a huge gaping hole that bore little semblance to the sights and sounds of that day. Inside an adjacent building were scale models of the proposed memorial. The building itself was full of busy New Yorkers at work. Life had to go on! I applaud those people who continued on with their lives.

It was the next fall when my husband and I were visiting his brother who lived in Somerset County. Of course we wanted to go to the site of Flight 93's crash. As if it could make sense of things when Ground Zero could not.

Again, the wind blew mercilessly but it did not dull the beauty of the place. Soft, green rolling hills were surrounded by the oranges and browns of the turning leaves. The site itself could be seen only from a distance, as befitted the sacred cemetary that it is.

The temporary "mounument" was only a flat space with several stone benches, bearing the names of those who died that September day, facing the final resting place of the brave people on that airplane. The benches silently lure you to sit and remember. The many people who were there that day with us spoke in reverent terms, as if they were in church.

There is a large bulletin board behind the benches which is filled on both sides with every type of memorabilia imaginable. But not one stroke of graffiti. There was military squadron patches, fraternity symbols, photos, notes, crude drawings by school children, poems, religious cards. Some feel this display was tacky. It will be gone when the new, lofty permanent momument is dedicated on the 10th anniversary of 9/11.

But I like it the way it was. Closure is an overworked word. And who am I, who had only the slightest connection to anybody who died that day, to deserve "closure."

It's just that there, on that breezy hill with the cluttered bulletin board, the silent benches and the peaceful view, I finally feel like some sense that something grand happened that day among the horror.

Sue Miller

An Author Event Not to be Missed!

2009-09-04T17:32:00.007-06:00

You are invited!

Members of Humble Fiction Cafe' will be at Good Books in the Woods on Saturday, September 19, from 12:00-3:00 p.m. We hope you will join us for author readings, giveaways, refreshments and more. Plus, we will be signing and selling copies of our books.

Did I mention giveaways??? Hope to see you there!

Split by Humble Fiction Cafe

Come into a world of love-struck fish and super-intelligent bugs; of the ordinary and bizarre; of then and now; of this world and the next; of people you know and folks you hope never to meet. These twenty-seven original stories and poems have but one thing in common: they all show two halves of an idea, two sides of a coin. They show what happens when a concept becomes SPLIT.

Various authors will be on hand to discuss their story contributions and sign copies of the book.

Death by Dorlana Vann

Death is a two-in-one paranormal novel (Jaclyn's Ghost and Passage to Mesentia) which represent the Death Card in Tease Publication's Dark Tarot Series.

Jaclyn's Ghost: After recovering from the shock of seeing her own dead body (still dressed to kill from last night's party), fashion model Jaclyn Jade discovers she has a choice. If she finds the reason she fell short of grace, she will be able to redeem herself and go to Heaven. Since she was murdered, she hopes her killer will lead to the truth behind her fate. With the help of a psychic who can speak to the dead and the ghost of an intriguing man from the roaring twenties, her search for answers initiates a quirky journey of self-discovery. Personalities, eras, and worlds collide as the mismatched trio race to solve the mystery of Jaclyn's death.

Passage to Mesentia: Wade and Bella's lives have been turned upside down since the murder of Bella's archaeologist parents and the arrival of a mysterious stranger named Ben. They decide to form a partnership with Ben in order to search for an ancient Egyptian artifact that they hope will reveal the secret to her parents' deaths. Tension mounts when Ben's supernatural identity and romantically tragic love story begins to lure Bella towards him. Will Wade and Bella's love endure, or will Bella be drawn in by the dangerous quest and find Ben too intense to resist?

A Cup of Comfort for Dog Lovers II
HFC contributing author, Susan H. Miller

Everyone loves a good dog story. In this moving collection, readers will enjoy fifty great dog stories that will have them laughing and crying as they enjoy this tender and touching volume with their own dogs at their feet. Following the success of the original edition, readers will be thrilled with this follow-up edition. In it, they will find new stories that are just waiting to be discovered and adored—from a new puppy bringing renewed energy into his elderly owner’s home to a walk down memory lane for a visit with a dog who made her owner’s childhood an adventure. This story collection will bring love, joy, and a sense of companionship into every reader’s heart.

Pdf versions of the following are available.

Bring Me to Life by Theresa Laws

In certain places, the veil between the living world and the other side is thin, and time means nothing. Hattie has waited for seventy years to be brought to life and set the past straight. Darren fins himself a reluctant partner in her resurrection.

More Than a Lifetime by Theresa Laws

All her life, Brooke has felt out of place, unlucky with men and empty inside except for her very real fear of water. The only place she feels at home is in Old Sacramento, where her love/hate relationship with the river puzzles her.

When she meets the mysterious Evan, her mind begins to reveal images and intimate encounters that are so much more than dreams or imagination. Could they be memories? Is it possible that both she and Evan have lived before? Her journey to find the truth about herself takes her underground and back in time to a lover who has waited more than a lifetime.

Reading the book or seeing the movie first?

2009-08-10T21:12:00.009-06:00

The Time Traveler’s Wife is coming out and I really want to see the movie. However, as an avid reader, I also want to read the book. My concern is which I should do first: see the movie or read the book. For me doing both is not a problem. The problem is while I prefer to have read the book before the movie; it makes me enjoy the movie less.

I love reading. To me, what makes a good story is when I see the movie play out in my head as I devour each word. I cast characters. I envision locations. I do everything that movie producers do, but in my head. Then, when I go to see the movie I always try to prepare myself. One, I know that the story, in plot and dialogue, will not be told exactly as in the book. Two, the characters will most definitely not look as I have envisioned them. Three, the scenes or moments that I think are critical will not be the same ones the writers and directors see as critical and therefore included in the film. And so on, and so on…

But even with all of my preparations the best reaction I have had to date is, “It wasn’t the fiasco I was expecting (Twilight, Stephenie Meyer).” The worst reaction I have had was, “That was such a horrible adaptation it makes me not want to read the writer again (Needful Things, Stephen King)." But there are some adaptations that differ from the books on which they are based but are still very good. The example for this is the Trueblood series on HBO based on the Southern Vampire series or Sookie Stackhouse novels by Charlaine Harris.

After watching the first season I proceeded to buy and read all of the books she has written. While my feelings about the books actually fluctuate (some I love and some I read just to get to the next one) so far, I do love the TV show better.

And maybe that’s the secret. Part of the problem of adapting a novel into a movie is that you have to force the story into something that’s told in roughly 110 minutes. Therefore many of the small subtleties are left out or butchered. Whereas with television, you have at least twelve to thirteen sixty-minute episodes over which to tell the story on HBO and other pay channels; on network TV you usually have a minimum of twenty episodes.

Well, I guess the verdict is when the adaptation is a movie, watch the movie first to minimize disappointment. If the adaptation is a television series, reading the book first is safe.

Sharolyn

Steampunk

2009-07-31T14:34:00.006-06:00

HFC member - Dorlana Vann

Have you heard of steampunk? I was familiar with the term but really didn’t know much about it. Steampunk is a subgenre of fantasy and science fiction that is set in the steam powered era (19th century) but includes today’s technology, as if it were invented back in Victorian days. I just realized that a new television show I’m watching, Warehouse 13, is actually steampunk inspired. And beyond fiction, there is a huge steampunk world of fashion, music, etc.

What has brought this intriguing genre to my attention is Gypsy Thornton’s short story, Cages. It is a steampunk retelling of Grimm's fairy tale, Jorinde and Joringel. I will be posting the story, plus a podcast, on my blog, Supernatural Fairy Tales, in 5 parts starting Aug. 1, 2009.

If you get a chance, stop by and read or listen to her short story. Also, Gypsy Thornton interviewed me for her blog, Fairy Tales News.

Upcoming Book Reviews and Contest!

2009-07-12T22:31:00.002-06:00

by Sheryl Tuttle

To help celebrate the success of two of our Humble Fiction Cafe writers, I will be giving away their newly published books on my blog, WordProverb. To enter to win the free books, just post a comment on the following blog post. It's that easy!

Upcoming Book Reviews and Contest!

Please visit and enter. You may be the lucky winner of a great new book! Good luck!

Posted using ShareThis

A Woman Hanging in the Waves

2009-06-27T19:06:00.003-06:00

We shall begin this episode of Heat Advisory Theatre with a brief word from our sponsors, SunSpot Artists International. Please adjust your a/c at this time and remove sensitive plants, pets, and children from direct southern exposure...

I capsize in time, ego overblown.
I hang over the invisible,
Muddy obscure years beneath.
I would have been no captain
On those drowned low seas.
Wife, worshipper, or dead
Willing, wise, or dumb;
My longest upward stare
Scattered by the bright sun silt
That sifts in darkness below
A woman hanging in the waves.

Well now, I am slightly dizzy and seeing little dots right now! What a perfect evocation of too much heat from our sponsors. Shall we get on with the blogisode?

Yep, probably shouldn't have begun this post under the influence of too much sun and too much caffeine. Now that the summer is here in all its brazen glory, though, I'm finding that my writing has taken on a different cast. I don't want to linger in fairy lands, but I am willing to pull out and gut last year's NaNo novel. The novel takes place both planetside and in a space station--neither setting based on any familiar landscapes (at least not right here right now landscapes).

It seems that my fantasy stories are somehow tied more closely to where I live or at least how I experience where I live, to the extent that being at least partially comfortable outdoors is necessary to being able to write them. Part of that is that details of color and smell and feel are borrowed from personal experience. This heat crushes my senses against my own skin, pushing my eyelids down against glare and filling my nose with a hot blankness. I walk outside and I am stunned.

Couple the sensory deprivation of summer with the increasing number of times phrases will flash through my thoughts while I'm driving on the freeway, and you have a seasonal change in the way that I write. Never would have guessed that this would be the case, but I would be very interested to know if others experience a similar link between seasons or time of day and subject matter or type of story.

-- Chrissa

2009-06-22T19:02:00.000-06:00

MAKING A “HOME” FOR OURSELVES

Where is home? Do you think of it as where you live now, or is it where you grew up? Most of us have a warm, nostalgic feeling for that place where we were raised and consider it a somewhat different version of “home.”
My childhood home was a small town in Kansas. Picture perfect. Complete with town square and band stand, ice cream socials and Fourth of July parades.
I knew every crack in the sidewalks, all the peoples’ faces and everyone’s cars, what churches they attended, who hung out at which beer joint and which doctor they saw. Everyone knew everyone’s business. It was a great place to grow up and I couldn’t wait to leave. When I did, I was excited, lonesome and lost. Every face I saw reminded me of someone I knew from “home.” Now, I’m thoroughly convinced there are only about fifteen or twenty basic “faces.”
Small towns are great if you can stand the cliques and the slow pace, but beneath the surface, there’s plenty going on and lots of stories to be told.
Humble Fiction Café has a new project. Our second anthology of short stories is now in its first stages of development. While the finished product is months away, we’re excited about it. The working title is “Ravel” and all the stories will have a common thread – the town of Moot and its many characters.
What will we learn about the people and the town? Whose secrets will be revealed? Where are the cracks? Even we don’t know yet, but that’s the fun of it – making it up as we go along…

ESCAPE

Nadia glanced once again in her rear view mirror. There was only the horizon framed on either side by tight canyon walls. Only five minutes ago, she had been able to see Moot small and getting smaller as she drove West away from town.
The highway was narrow, with sweeping curves, but the car was easy to handle. The solid rock walls came nearly to the pavement’s edge giving her a feeling of shooting through a tunnel. Her long, slender fingers curved around the steering wheel a little tighter. She had never cared for tight spaces. The sooner through the canyon, the better.
When she glanced in the mirror again, she blinked and had to look twice. Impossible, but there they were, the unmistakable red and blue flashing lights of a police car.
“It can’t be,” she thought. “It hasn’t been long enough. No one could possibly have found out so soon.”
Her foot pressed the accelerator. Beneath the hood, the car’s engine moved a little faster and the Maserati surged ahead…

Theresa Laws

Death by Dorlana Vann now in paperback

2009-06-10T08:34:00.000-06:00

Death

Dorlana Vann

I have fun news to share; my 2-in-1 supernatural novel, Death (Passage to Mesentia & Jaclyn’s Ghost), is now in paperback!

Jaclyn's Ghost and Passage to Mesentia represent the Death Card in Tease Publication's Dark Tarot Series.

Jaclyn’s Ghost a novel: After recovering from the shock of seeing her own dead body (still dressed to kill from last night's party), fashion model Jaclyn Jade discovers she has a choice. If she finds the reason she fell short of grace, she will be able to redeem herself and go to Heaven. Since she was murdered, she hopes her killer will lead to the truth behind her fate. With the help of a psychic who can speak to the dead and the ghost of an intriguing man from the roaring twenties, her search for answers initiates a quirky journey of self-discovery. Personalities, eras, and worlds collide as the mismatched trio race to solve the mystery of Jaclyn's death.

Passage to Mesentia a novella: Wade and Bella’s lives have been turned upside down since the murder of Bella’s archaeologist parents and the arrival of a mysterious stranger named Ben. They decide to form a partnership with Ben in order to search for an ancient Egyptian artifact that they hope will reveal the secret to her parents’ deaths. Tension mounts when Ben’s supernatural identity and romantically tragic love story begins to lure Bella towards him. Will Wade and Bella’s love endure, or will Bella be drawn in by the dangerous quest and find Ben too intense to resist?

Available now at Barnes and Noble and Amazon or visit my website: http://www.dorlanavann.com/ to read the first chapters.

Have a great day!

Dorlana :)

Can You Stand The Pressure?

2009-06-07T21:25:00.003-06:00

Amid my excitement about the publication of a book containing a story of mine, I was honored to be asked to speak at a yearly event the local library holds.

"Now, is public speaking a problem for you," the head librarian asked.

A fair question. I was able to reply quite honestly that the fear of making a fool of myself never troubles me anymore.

You see, some years back, I had an epiphany in an elevator of a high-rise office building in Houston, Texas.

I had just walked into the building, dressed in the most Conservative of gray suits when my ankle gave way, and I sprawled on the floor of the foyer like a beached whale, skirt hiked up in a most un-ladylike manner. Two businessmen got to witness the whole sorry scene. They hauled me to my feet, and, as luck would have it, entered the same elevator as I did. I waited for the floor to swallow me; I waited for my face to turn red. But neither of these things happened.

And suddenly I realized that this was not the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to me.Probably wasn't even in the top ten. It wasn't as bad as when I tripped and fell over a bale of hay at a county fair, taking a small Asian woman out on my way down; and it certainly wasn't as bad as when I inadvertently typed an "S" where the "W" should have been in a letter to a Mr. Whittaker.

Maybe it was just a part of growing older: that little things just don't bother me that much anymore. Or maybe it's because of George Bush,senior. After he threw up on his plate at that state dinner, I figure nobody could ever top that in terms of embarassing things to do. I owe him a debt of gratitude!
By the way, the book is "A Cup of Comfort for Dog Lovers II" and my story is "The Dashchund That (Almost) Conquered the World."

Susan H. Miller

What Makes a Successful Writers Group?

2009-06-05T08:21:00.006-06:00

by Sheryl Tuttle

Do you ever wonder what makes a writers group tick? Why some groups come together and stick, while others dissolve over time?

One of the keys to a successful group is communication. For example, with the Humble Fiction Café (HFC), we have easy, frequent, and honest communication between our members.

Easy communication

One email sends to the whole group
Yahoo group for uploading files; this is where we post stories, chapters, or poems for critique, as well as a place to share other information

Frequent communication

Weekly meetings; approximately every other week the meetings are open to the public
Regular email; emails are used for communications between meetings

Honest communication

Written and/or verbal critique is offered highlighting strengths and weaknesses
Critique is offered on the written piece, not the writer, and is intended to help the writer improve in the craft

Recently, members of HFC participated in an interview by John E. Murray, III with Story Institute. In the interview, we discuss the dynamics of our group and what it is we believe makes it work so well. We also talk about some of our projects, including the writing of Split. You can listen to the interview in its entirety at the Story Institute Rambling Verser – Episode 16.

What are some other characteristics of a good writers group? How and where do you go about finding one? Please share your thoughts in the comments.

New Post on Endings

2009-05-26T09:16:00.003-06:00

by Sheryl Tuttle

Please visit my novel blog, Hope and Faith, where I've posted Six Common Types Endings, the information gleaned from an endings class given by Linda Lindsey of HFC. It was an outstanding class full of valuable insight, too good not to share!

Fairy Tale Reviewer

2009-05-01T08:56:00.001-06:00

Stop by and say hello to Humble Fiction Café’s Chrissa Sandlin who will be Supernatural Fairy Tales blog new book reviewer! She will be reviewing fairy tale inspired, fantasy, dark fantasy and paranormal novels. You can also find out how to get your book reviewed by Chrissa.

Have a great day,

Dorlana

Short story published

2009-04-06T15:42:00.003-06:00

You can read my latest published story, "A Simple Matter", on-line for free at Crossed Genres all this month. It's a humorous story about an unemployed fairy godmother.

Linda Lindsey

Check Out An Award-Winning Horror Story by HFC Member Kelli D. Meyer!

2009-04-06T12:57:00.005-06:00

HFC Member Kelli D. Meyer has added her award-winning horror story, "Terrible Twos", to her blog/website at www.kellidmeyer.com, and she invites you to stop by and take a look. "Terrible Twos" is a super-creepy story about zombies, toddlers, and a mother's love, with twists you won't see coming. And while you're there, don't forget to subscribe; Kelli posts new stories on a regular basis, and that way you won't miss one!

What I Still Don't Know In March of 2009

2009-03-26T10:59:00.004-06:00

....As much as I'd like to think about computers. That's what I still don't know.

This past Monday morning, I wrote about my trip down nostalgia lane in Charleston, S.C., but neglected to sign my name. Which leaves the Humble Fiction Cafe readers in the dark.

Fortunately, my fellow writers are kind enough to gently nudge me. Since this has happened twice in a row, however, I think the nudge might turn into an outright kick the next time.

But a bigger concern has arisen. What if, when I reach the Pearly Gates, there is a computer competency test included on the checklist before one can be admitted? After all, I already know that God has us filed by our social security numbers. (I found this out many years ago while trying to obtain a copy of the baptismal certificate of one my children who had been baptised at a military chapel.)

If computer expertise does indeed count heavily on the final score, all's I can say is I'd beeter ramp up my clothing the naked, visiting the imprisioned thing.

Oh, this is Susan H. Miller writing.

Things That Change And Things That Never Do

2009-03-23T12:09:00.003-06:00

If you've never been to Charleston, South Carolina, you must put it on your "bucket list." If you have the least bit of interest in history. In haunted places. Battles. The ocean. Gracious living. Tradition.

I had the good fortune to live in a small town twenty minutes away from the city proper about t22 years ago. So, it seemed to make sense for my husband and me to detour a bit on our way home to Texas from North Carolina, where we were visiting our youngest daughter and her family.

We, of course had to check out where we used to live. This actually involved two stops, as we had moved into a larger house about a year before we left with the expectation of making it our permanent home after my husband's retirement from the Air Force. But it didn't turn out that way. We had to go with the city that held the most promising job - and that was Houston, Texas.

Our lazy, lovely little town was nearly unrecognizable! Instead of uninterrupted avenues of pine trees, we were assaulted with car washes, fast food restaurants, auto parts stores. The verdict one house number one: good. The current owners were keeping it up nicely, had a new fence and had painted the wood part an acceptable color.

We moved on to the second house. Not so good here. Parts of the wood rail on the long front porch were missing, making the house's front look somewhat like a face whose mouth was missing some teeth.

It was a relief to move on to Charleston, proper. On the way, we encountered new roads, some "depressed" areas that looked even worse than when we had lived there before. A few high-rises.

But Charleston, itself? Still the same, wonderfully proud lady!

It was no surprise to us. After all, wasn't this the city that painted the spire of St. Michael's (or is it St. Philip's? I can never keep that straight) black during the revolutionary war to camouflage it from the Brits?

Even the devastation inflicted by Hugo several years back barely scarred Charleston's centuries old homes. Hurricanes were nothing new, and there were huge bolts that went through houses from front to back to strengthen them for just such an event.

And the open market is still there, just as it was in Rhett Butler's day. Now, where there used to be a plethora of homegrown produce and hand-crafted tools, there is largely merchandise seen at any flea market throughout the country.

But you can still get some of the good stuff, if you look hard enough. One example of this is the hand-made baskets woven on site by the Gullah-descendant woman who learned this craft from their mothers, who had in turn learned it from their mothers. What makes them so special is that the designs on the baskets are not created dye, but rather by the weaving itself. So no two are ever alike. I was given one as a parting gift when I left South Carolina years ago, and it is still proudly in evidence in my present home.

Now, I am back to the area where medical research makes amazing strides on a regular basis, and the hub of space travel touches the stars every day. I'm glad there are wonderful changes going on in this world.

But I'm also happy to know I can always be sure to find a few places where I can count on things staying the same.

The Proof is in the Pudding

2009-03-19T21:24:00.001-06:00

by Sheryl Tuttle

The other day I found myself sitting on a bench with my youngest daughter’s BFF (Best Friend Forever). We were watching my daughter take a karate lesson, which gave the BFF and me plenty of time to talk. First we talked about karate. The BFF asked about the progression of the karate belt colors, getting tips placed on the belts, and preparing for belt tests. Then, we talked about gymnastics and other activities. Eventually, I found myself telling BFF that you can do anything you want if you just practice, and that the only way to get better with something IS to practice.

Hmm. Sounds like good advice for a 40-something year old wanna-be writer too. Actually, good advice for a writer at any age.

You may be familiar with National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), where participating authors from all over write a 50,000-word novel in one month. For me last November, it translated into a lot of writing, much more than my usual daily quota. It provided an opportunity for a lot of writing practice.

Shortly after NaNoWriMo, I wrote a short story that had been a plague to me for some time. Calling the story a struggle is like calling a tiger tame, but nevertheless, I finally got the story down and finished. Fairly pleased with the story, I put it out for feedback.

As always, I received some great suggestions from my writers’ group friends on ways to improve the story. But the most memorable comment was from my mom. She simply said that she liked the story very much, and she could see my improvement from when I first started writing.

Wow. It felt so good to hear that my ability at this craft of writing was improving!

It’s true in writing, as in everything else of life, the more we do something – the more we practice – the better we get. After a full month of dedicated writing on my novel, the short story I completed afterwards WAS better than my previous work. The proof is in the pudding.

Armed with this knowledge, I look forward to writing more and better stories. Keep practicing!

When is your story not your story?

2009-03-12T18:54:00.003-06:00

by Kelli D. Meyer

When you can't post it on your own web site, that's when.

I am extremely annoyed by an "accepted fact" in the modern world of publishing. It's a fact that publishers won't buy your work as unpublished if it's already appeared online in any form, including on your own blog. It doesn't matter whether ten people read it or ten thousand. Once it's been online, they'll only buy it as a reprint, if they'll buy it at all.

In my opinion, this is a case of throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Publishers have made this decision to protect themselves from buying a story that's already been read by a large percentage of its potential audience. It's a decision that makes sense in some very specific cases. If you're Dean Koontz or Stephen King, and you post a novel on your web site for a year or so, the number of people who will buy that novel when it comes out in hardback may diminish. (Although even this is debatable.) In those cases, the publisher might be justified in paying a lower -- a.k.a. reprint -- rate for the work.

But what if you're not Koontz or King? What if you're me, or a member of my writing group, or just about any unknown writer in the world? How many people are really going to seek out and read stories we post on our own blogs or web sites? Enough to damage the story's money-earning potential if it's published? I don't think so.

So the result of this ridiculous rule is that writers have to leave their best stories hidden in file folders in order to have any hope of getting them published. Meanwhile, they're trying to establish a following, a readership, without sharing their best work.

My suggestion to publishers, should any of you out there be interested, is to change the "no reprints" rule to exclude publishing or posting on the authors' own web sites or blogs. Let authors show their stories off. Let readers discover new authors. Once they do, they'll spend more money on your books and magazines. Everybody wins.

The Lost Art of the Sail Makers

2009-03-02T02:03:00.005-06:00

Our featured writer for this week is HFC founding member Gary Denton, who's many interest include digital music, producing short films, and novel writing. He is currently editing Good Hope, a 2007 National Novel Writing Month project that he hopes to forge into a publishable manuscript by July.

Last September, hurricane Ike, the third most destructive storm to make landfall in US history, devoured Galveston Island. Ike’s twelve foot storm surge raised the iron-hulled sailing ship Elissa, moored at pier 21 on the northwest side of the island, nearly level with the concrete sidewalk that leads to her visitor’s center. 110 mph winds tore at her for twelve hours, but never managed to find a grip on her lines or mast. However, one of her most important sails, the fore lower topsail, (ironically referred to as the “storm sail”) was shredded like a formal dress shirt ripped apart by a pack of snarling wild dogs.

Nearly five months later, Sail maker Jim Brink has traveled from San Diego to Galveston to create a new storm sail for Elissa. Since there is no available building large enough to act as a sail loft in Galveston, this skilled craftsman, who has designed and constructed sails for movies such as Pirates of the Caribbean, is using the grand ballroom of the Ashton Villa, a historic 1859 residence, to spread out the required 630 square feet of sailcloth.

I have to admit, after all the research I did on Elissa’s history for my novel Good Hope, including walking her decks and interviewing her crew, it never occurred to me that there are only six people in the nation with the skills necessary to refit her sails. That’s right- six. Skills that were once considered essential to our seafaring heritage are now almost lost to antiquity.

So what does this have to do with writing, you ask.

Let me tie it in for you.

Recently, a friend and fellow member of the Humble Fiction Café sold a short story. All of the members of the HFC feel a sense of kinship when someone makes a sale because many of us contribute to the early development of these stories with suggestions, critiques and editing. So, we were somewhat surprised when the publisher returned the story with some proposed corrections for “grammatical and punctuation errors.” Now here’s the rub. Not only were the suggested corrections wrong, the publisher’s letter proposing the changes contained punctuation and grammar flaws. Any English major could see it.

Now don’t get me wrong, most of the HFC members are not qualified, professional editors- but the writer who submitted the story is. She is an editor for a local Houston magazine and has seventeen years experience in the industry. We sometimes refer to her as the “Comma Queen” for her ability to turn our drafts into red-streaked pages that look like they came from the floor of a Victorian barber shop.
Our author was ready to pull her submission if the publisher insisted on printing it with their changes. She prevailed, and I’m glad to say that everything turned out for the best, but the incident makes me wonder about the current literary culture and the vanishing trade of the copy-editor.

Right now in Japan, the largest growing market for literature is called the “cell phone novel.” These stories are not only read on cell phones, they are written on cell phones, and mostly by amateurs who use text shortcuts and questionable grammar. Even with glaring flaws that tradition publishers would reject after reading the first paragraph, the demand for cell phone novels is booming. Granted- they’re free, so there isn’t a huge demand for them to contain expertly polished prose, but consider this: three of 2007’s top five bestselling Japanese novels were written on cell phones.
The closest thing America has to this type of market is fan fiction, and while it still carries the stigma of being written by hacks and amateurs, the number of Harry Potter inspired stories at Fanfiction.net is nearly 400,000, and the demand continues. I won’t even speculate on how long it will take for Twilight inspired fan fiction to surpass that total - okay, maybe fifteen minutes, but again, most of these free-to-read short stories, novels and novellas are full of punctuation, grammatical, and stylistic errors.
So how are publishing companies responding to this trend?
They are laying off editors by the hundreds.
After all, if the public is willing to pay for novels that editor’s at publishing companies previously rejected, like the current bestseller Still Alice, then why retain those services? I’m sure Still Alice contains easy to read sentences, and is relatively free of punctuation errors, but the point is, author Lisa Genova had to edit the novel herself, or in much the same way that Jim Brink was hired to shape the sails of Elissa, maybe Ms. Genova hired a free-lance editor to help shape the prose of her manuscript.

Fast-forward.

Imagine a celebrated fiction writer in the year 2150 who desires to create a late twentieth century hardbound copy of his current masterpiece - just for nostalgia. The plot, characters and story may be novel for the time, as the word implies, but where will he find someone with the skills to make his prose flow from the pages like a refreshing stream? Who will help edit the text so his readers won’t be yanked out of his beautifully created world by jarring sentence constructions and gross misspellings? And how many practitioners of that ancient skill will be left in the world? Twenty? A dozen? Six?

I’m afraid it will be a lost art by then. My editor friend and those like her may become tomorrow’s sail makers.

I only hope somewhere in that rapidly approaching future, the Elissa will still be sailing, and when someone in the Galveston Historical Foundation gift shop hands visitors a copy of my book, it won’t be titled Gud Hop.

Are there any real Geeks left anymore?

2009-02-23T21:12:00.005-06:00

The movie Fanboys opened in theaters February 6th. Now, it didn’t break any box office records; and most people have probably not even heard of it. The reason I talk about it is because the movie was made. There have been lots of movies about geeks in the past, but this one is like a celebration of all that is geekdom.

I remember when being a geek was something you tried to hide from your friends and relatives. As one that spent most of high school in the outcast protection program I remember passing others that were living a double life like me in the halls and secretly signaling to one another about Star Trek, or Quantum Leap, Comics or Japanese Anime. Yes, it was a difficult existence, but at least you could trust your fellow geeks to be authentic.

Now that fanboys has become an actual word listed in the Merriam-Webster dictionary, what does it mean? Are geeks, nerds, and the other formerly socially unaccepted finding a sort of acceptance through their ostracism? I know that this makes life easier for the younger generation of geeks that follow me; and I definitely want them to thrive and continue. But, when you get an officially recognized name in Webster’s and a Movie, is that the beginning of the end.

Lynn

Hell's Kitchen - Short Story from Split

2009-02-11T07:48:00.010-06:00

Short story excerpt from the dichotomy/opposites anthology Split -by The Humble Fiction Cafe.

Hot of Hot/Cold

Hell’s Kitchen

by Dorlana Vann

John knew the old saying: Revenge is a dish best served cold. But he had to disagree. Because this time, his revenge would be cooked and served sizzling hot.

Being the cook for the Beaumont family had definitely been hell, and it seemed as if he had already worked for them an eternity. When he saw his murderer, standing there on the auction block, another saying seemed right on: What goes around comes around.

New arrivals went straight to the auction house. Both demon and H.S.L. (Human Soul Laborers) bought souls for a variety of reasons — the juicier the more they cost. John’s assassin was already up to a stellar price.

The red demon auctioneer had the whole house animated with energy. He was saying, “This soul here has no moral backbone. He killed over fifty men. He’s a thief, a cheater, and a murderer. Do I hear seventy-five....”

When John held up his auction paddle, his assassin looked him in the eyes. John remembered the last time their eyes met. The next thing he knew, he was in hell, standing exactly where this guy stood now. John had committed minor sins in comparison to murder, so buying him to eat would have been like buying a sickly, skinny cow. Not worth eating.

John had been purchased as an H.S.L. by one of the more prestigious demon families. Some souls were bought for pulling wagons, for building roads, for housewives, for... dinner. He understood how lucky he had been that he knew how to cook. His duties included buying groceries at the auction house.

He didn’t win the bid on his murderer just for pleasure; he would also make a fine meal. The Beaumonts planned to have a dinner party for twenty guests. John purchased two other plump souls as well.

When John arrived back at his kitchen, he put the three men into his tall, refrigerated cage. They needed to be fresh. Much longer out in the heat, and they would have been tough. He himself had developed skin close to the texture of leather. He hadn’t lived in Hell long enough to figure it all out, but he reckoned all the demons started out looking the way the human souls did, but in time they adapted to the atmosphere, causing their crimson, rutted skin.
Once John shut the cage, the hit man said, “Funny meeting you here.”

“So, you do remember me.”

“I never forget a face.”

“Of someone you killed or just in general?” John reached in a drawer and pulled out his knife sharpener. He wanted to give this guy the full treatment. At that moment, if he had ever wondered before, he recognized one of the major reasons for his descent. He kept deep hatred in his heart. Hmmm. He began to grind the knife across the sharpener.

His murderer said, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m about to make dinner.”

“I mean, in the hole. I never characterized you for a sinner.”

“We all have our sins. It’s the people who realize it too late that end up down here.”

At this, the hit man nodded his head. “So, what are you making?”

The two other men in the cage looked downright terrified. John looked down at his knife. No matter what kind of show he put on for his murderer, this wouldn’t be any easier than any other meal.

He inhaled and then nodded his head over to the man standing to the right of the murderer.

“Leg of Sam,” he said. He glanced at the next guy, “Barbecued ribs.” He looked directly into the hit man’s eyes. “And roasted pig.”

“You don’t have to be so nasty. Just making conversation.”

“Perhaps we should save the small talk for the guests.” Meals had always just stood in the cage awaiting their fate. Once in awhile one would sing or one would cry, but never did he actually have to talk to one before he prepared it.

“For what it’s worth,” his murderer said. “I apologize. I was just doing my job.”

John thought about this for a moment. He wondered if he would have repented if given more time. If he had not been killed at that moment, would it have caused a different finale? He doubted it. Just doing my job. “All right,” he finally said. “I’ll accept your apology. I have an apology of my own.”

“I suppose you do,” the man said.

John said, “You know, I have to cook you now.”

“Yeah,” the hit man said, “I know.”

The End

http://www.dorlanavann.com/

Humble Fiction Cafe Presents

Split

A dichotomy/opposites anthology
Purchase paperback

Doers of the Word

2009-02-02T15:04:00.005-06:00

This post is for you fellow bloggers out there!

A few friends sent me a link to an application that analyzes the writing style of your blog post and gives you a profile based on the Myers-Briggs personality standards.
It's a cool little app. Here is what it says about my blog:

"ESTP - The Doers

The active and playful type. They are especially attuned to people and things around them and often full of energy, talking, joking and engaging in physical out-door activities. The Doers are happiest with action-filled work which craves their full attention and focus. They might be very impulsive and more keen on starting something new than following it through. They might have a problem with sitting still or remaining inactive for any period of time. "

Interesting evaluation. It also gave me the cute little picture in the corner. I have no idea if all the little pictures you get are male or female, but maybe that is just my insecurity kicking in.

But overall, I'd say it's a good fit. I do have issues on follow through, so that is why keeping me focused on the rewrite of Good Hope is something I'm encouraging everyone who reads my blog to do. Post a comment, send an e-mail, or just shout at me through your computer. I'm sure I'll get the message.

If you'd like to try the analyzer for your personal blog, or for blogs that you follow, here is the link:

http://www.typealyzer.com/

Enjoy!

Musing along

2009-01-29T14:19:00.001-06:00

Almost every writer I know has a muse. Most of them even know what their muse looks like. The classical figure of a man or woman in early Greek clothing is popular as are fairies. Some are more entertaining. I know one author who imagines her muse to be a tiny winged cat and another whose muse looks an awful lot like her ex husband.

Each “muse” helps their writer, more or less, in different ways. Some chat happily in their writer’s head, some argue, some sing and dance, and most of them pout. Of course few of us believe that there is really a little creature residing in our heads giving us ideas, but it shouldn’t strike anyone odd that writers anthropomorphize their muse. We are a creative lot that must work alone. The cats, dogs, and spouse tend to just stare at us uncomprehendingly when we try to talk about our ideas. We need someone to listen to our breathless prose.

Remember those commercials for some insurance company that had some little tiny people who kind of looked like the Borrowers who would cause vehicle accidents? One was a tiny woman with short pigtails sticking up off her head. She always looked so wicked. Yep, that’s her. That’s my muse. Wicked little thing. Instead of lovingly bestowing inspiration upon me, she wields it like an angry young man hiding just around the dark corner with a broken board scavenged from a construction site trash pile.

At least I don’t get a broken nose out of the encounter.

What’s your muse like?

Linda Lindsey

What I Learned From Daddy

2009-01-11T13:50:00.001-06:00

MEALS AND WHEELS, ALWAYS AND NEVER
By
Theresa Laws

The trouble started the moment I was born. Daddy wanted a boy. Being blessed with me instead, he gave me a name with his initials, then retreated into silence. He became a man of few words and me being well, me, I became a person of many, prattling on about everything and nothing, determined to fill all the empty spots in our relationship.
There were no discussions between us about how the world should run while we were together in his work shop. Only grumblings about how I had squashed walnuts in his vice.
We never mused about what women really want while on a fishing trip to the lake. There was only a terse reminder to be quiet because I was scaring the fish.
He never taught me how to drive, shoot a gun, or skin a catfish. What he did teach me was it was OK to break the rules. I know he never intended that with his message, but it worked out that way.
Eventually I gave up on Daddy and moved on to having other men in my life. Before long, I was engaged. Daddy said little about it until, I think, the night before the wedding.
All those years when he would have been imparting the wisdom of the ages to a son, he must have been pondering this worthwhile advice for his daughter.
He gazed up from his recliner, pale blue eyes steely, as usual. The best advice I could never follow came right after the speech about coming home if things didn’t work out, and about how there would be rules if I did…blah, blah, blah. Daddy blurted out all that pent up man to man advice and said:
“Always have meat for dinner and never buy retread tires.”
For once in my life, I was speechless. Always and never are two very tall orders. Being a dutiful daughter, I considered his instructions, and tried very hard to carry them out.
Moral obligations make some “always” and “nevers” easy, but most of life isn’t structured that way. Surprisingly, I’ve found that to be the case in my writing life as well – the one place we’re taught to follow strict rules. Sentence structure must be - just so. Punctuation goes - here. Spell words - this way.
When I first decided to become a writer, all the books I read and the prose I wrote followed the rules. Then, in a rebellious streak, I switched from classic works to popular (read BLOCK BUSTER SALES) and realized that those writers who broke the rules were wonderful.
I also realized that I would have many occasions in my life when I just couldn’t follow Daddy’s advice. By choice, sometimes there wasn’t meat for dinner. By necessity, sometimes retreads would have to do.
So, when I write, by choice I chose fragmented sentences to make a point. You know? Perhaps I use an unusual punctuation to help my reader understand exactly what I want to convey. Pause here, trail away… Maybe it’s necessary to misspell a word to impart personality in a character’s speech. Do ya think? And, I’ve discovered something else. Breaking the rule of always and never has made me a better writer. If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it. Always.

Another year... another step closer to the future.

2009-01-08T23:12:00.002-06:00

Posted by Victor

Over the past year, I've gone through a major transformation in how I view media. As I've written elsewhere, I'm at the point where I no longer have the urge to hoard and own media that can sit on my shelves. This past week, I took a dozen hardbacks to Half-Price Books. Many of these were books I've been hauling around for years and years. I felt a pang of regret upon letting them go, but that passed quickly. I am now preparing to sell almost my entire music CD collection and another batch of books.

One of the reasons I'm feeling less anxious about parting with these books is the rumor of a 9-inch touchscreen iPod. Already, a regular iPod and iPhone are gaining significant ground on the Amazon Kindle and the Sony eReader. If the reading experience on a regular iPod is pleasant enough, a 9-inch touchscreen iPod will be the killer app that drives a stake in a large percentage of the paper book industry.

This 9-inch iPod won't be the ultra-portable device like a phone, but I really believe it can become the all-in-one media device we (well, I'VE) been waiting for. One device that easily play music and movies, display e-books and pdfs and word documents, surf the web, and play hundreds of games... what's not to love?

But you're saying, "I've already got that! It's called my laptop computer!"

But this will be different. This will be the lightweight ultra-cool device that you carry around with you as easy as a notebook. It won't be as powerful as a laptop, but it will be infinitely more fun. You'll be able to use it anywhere at any time and have all your media available to you at moment's notice.

One industry that I think will especially benefit from a device like this is the rapidly dying comic book industry. Already, you can't get most comic books anywhere except comic specialty stores. And the prices on a single comic is about to jump up to nearly five dollars an issue. Even considering potential collectability, it's not worth it. The best comics are usually the independent publishers, or the self-publishers, and the cost for them to produce even small runs of an issue aren't financially viable. But something like this large-format iPod will completely level the comic book playing field and make them a viable mainstream form of media. If the only hard cost a comic creator has is for the art supplies, then they can lower the purchase cost for a digital issue to a reasonable rate, maybe even as low as 50 or 25 cents. The upside is, the creator no longer has a finite number of issues he or she can sell (which is based on how many they can afford to publish). Now, they can sell as many copies as people want to download. Combine this with an iTunes-like store, and you have the rebirth of a new medium.

And not just traditional stand-alone comics, but comics with varying degrees of interactivity or motion. I can easily envision a format where you at first only see the art, then advance the page or panel and it reveals each word or thought balloon in succession rather than having to have all of them crammed into the frame right from the top.

The one thing I think that will ultimately be the tipping point for a device like this 9-inch iPod isn't comic books or videos. It's schools. The first time a school or college makes their schoolbooks available digitally, it will be all over. Imagine only having to carry one slim touchscreen around all day, rather than fifty pounds of books. Once Apple worms its way back into the educational market (where it once was king, back in the 80's and 90's), the paper book industry as we know it today will be no more. Raise kids on reading books and comics using a digital device, and they'll never get that connection to having to own a physical book. Just like all of us no longer care about owning CD's or albums. I've got my music on my iPod, and I could care less about the physical object.

Okay... I'm done rambling. I predict that by this time two years from now, the big buzz topic will be how much the act of reading (for pleasure) has taken hold among our youth, because it will be cool and fun and convenient.

And for all of us that fancy ourselves writers, that's something to look forward to.

Another Christmas for the Books

2008-12-28T14:39:00.005-06:00

It's December 28, and my spouse and I are recovering in separate rooms on separate floors in our home. I am sure we are reliving, each in our own special way,the events of the past week. There were the low points: Daughter #3's in-laws, who usually board said daughter and son-in-law's huge dogs have a new puppy. Puppy did not get along with dogs, so they stayed with us and our four terrified cats. We thought we handeled it well, except for one cats being up a tree for several hours (after which she disappeared for a day or so), two close encounters of the devouring kind, the dogs taking off after a stray, and the bonding experience of all the cats, their food, water and litter box sharing our room. We had two grandchildren to care for while their parents went to work the day after Christmas, and ended up having them an extra day when dad had car trouble and couldn't pick them up for the 2 hour ride back home. Daughter #2's feelings were hurt by "1 and #3's husbands, and her back was strained on Christmas day by picking up a nephew, and she required a trip to the doctor's and a day off work. #3 and her husband were upset with her in-laws,his parents. My brother sent a little boy's size 12 month outfit to the baby, who is a girl and size 18 months. A gift certificate was lost. Daughter #1, with her family, arrived late as usual and delayed gift unwrapping and eating. We cooked and did dishes unceasingly.
The high points: they were all here with us on Christmas Day. Every last child with spouse, and all seven grandchildren. We had a roof over our heads, and good food to eat. Except for the back sprain, and ear infection (#3's husband), all were healthy.I got to sing a solo at Christmas Eve Mass in our small, welcoming church. There were hours for me to hold the baby, stroke her impossibly soft skin, marvel at how perfect she is, and just breath in the joy of her.
And then, there's also the fact that I will never again want for bath salts or body lotion.
I hope everyone is having a similarly special holiday season.

Split is Positively Rejected!

2008-12-21T21:35:00.002-06:00

Happy holidays to all! 2008 has been an exciting year, and one of my highlights was having Split published. It provided a vast array of learning experience and even more exciting…

Split is Positively Rejected!

Recently, Humble Fiction Café entered our book, Split, into the 16th annual Writer’s Digest International Self-Published Book Awards. We did not win. I am happy to report however, that we received some fantastic scoring and commentary.

On a scale of 1 to 5, with 5 being excellent, Split received outstanding marks as follows:

Plot – 5
Grammar – 5
Character Development – 4
Cover Design – 5

Wow – I’m still excited by those impressive marks. The judge went on to comment that he liked the overall theme of the book, as well as the variety of voices and writers. He mentioned a few stories by name where he particularly liked the ending, and said all the stories were good reads! Additionally, he found value in the end of story explanations. The judge complimented Humble Fiction Café saying that through our writing he felt we liked one another and he sensed good will.

Equally beneficial, the judge also mentioned areas that could improve the book, such as stronger character development, and less focus on plot twists that occasionally resulted in sudden, sometimes violent endings. The judge felt there were too many stories with the character Beatrice, but also said they were all good so he wouldn’t know which stories to cut.

Overall, I think the commentary and our scores were outstanding. As writers, we value this kind of feedback because it helps us know what we did well, and how we can do better in the future.

If you haven’t yet read Split, I invite you to do so. If you’ve read Split, I would love to hear from you. What did you like best about the book? How do you think the book could be improved?

Happy Holidays!

2008-12-08T01:36:00.002-06:00

Welcome back to the Cafe'!

If you haven't visited in a while, then let me introduce myself. I'm Gary Denton, a member of the HFC and a contributing author to our group publishing project SPLIT.
I'm also famous in the group and elsewhere for my attempts to achieve something other than SECOND PLACE in a writing competition.

Second Place (Shudder).

It's not first. And as the famous Ricky Bobby once remarked, "If you ain't first- your last."

So, I wanted to stop by and undo some of that bad karma, because I finally WON something!

I officially participated in National Novel Writing Month in November and I WON!

That's right! And I have the cute little web picture to show for it.

It even has a ship on it.

I like ships.

Now, some of you may know very well that several thousand authors participated in NaNoWriMo this year, and a good portion of them also won by typing the requested fifty-thousand words in thirty-one days. Yes, that is 50,000 words in one month.
50K.

Some of them didn't make it, but a lot of them did.

And I'm one.

The Humble Fiction Cafe can boast of several NaNoWriMo winners both past and present in their ranks, and I'd like to invite them to post comments to this entry just to show off. They deserve it. It is an amazingly crazy thing to do, and an even more amazingly crazy thing to actually accomplish it.

So there. I won. I came in "Finished."

And that is better than Second any day.

Gary

"Twilight", the movie - Joy Vyoral

2008-11-23T20:56:00.003-06:00

I attended an opening day screening of Catherine Hardwicke’s film, “Twilight”, based on the Stephenie Meyers novel of the same name. That screening was attended by a theater full of teenage girls, a scattering of teenage boys and quite a few adult women.

Before the lights went down, the audience as a whole was very noisy with occasional outbursts of hysterical laughter and even shrieking. Remembering a discussion overheard in the crowd entering the theatre about the hotness factor of the young actor playing the film’s character, Edward, I wondered if we were in for nothing more than a fan-fest and I’d end up having to rent the movie when it came out on video in order to really see it. Save a couple of shrieks when the actor Robert Pattinson first appeared on screen, the crowd settled down to be very mannerly and attentive.

The film moved very quickly through the events of the first book seeming to attempt to cover most of the major points of the story. Unfortunately, it gave a quick nod only to the character of Bella’s friend, Jacob, and failed to even hint of his importance in the over-all story-line. Since Jacob is a major factor in the first book, setting up his place in the later books, I found it odd. I felt the director could have left out some of the time devoted to Edward’s vampire gifts which served only to cause the audience to laugh, something I feel certain the director hadn’t intended. The time would have been better used to set up Jacob’s character.

I also believe the characters of Edward and Jacob were miscast. Pattinson didn’t come close to the “beautiful Edward with the marble smooth skin” of Bella’s constant rhapsodizing in the novel. Taylor Lautner, as Jacob Black, though very attractive, is not physically large enough to portray the hulking 15-year old who eventually becomes the Alpha male wolf and the third side of Twilight’s romantic triangle.

Distracting to me also was the amateurish look of the vampire make-up of the characters. This was especially problematic on the character of Carlisle, Edward’s adoptive father, but startling also on the other male vampires. In the extreme close-ups of Bella and Edward, Edward seemed to have on more lip color than Bella.

I was disappointed in the special effect that was Edward’s “sparkling skin” when he was exposed to direct sunlight. On the screen, it was barely anything to see, totally unlike the description in the book of reflected light dancing in the meadow. Really, it should have been more dramatic.

In spite of my disappointments in the movie version of “Twilight”, I have to say it was very interesting to see the interpretation from the book. Seldom is a movie able to do justice to the book and this one probably didn’t do any worse than most. Factor in the record-breaking (opening weekend for a movie with a female director) $70.6 million ticket sales and you have to figure this movie is absolutely done a great deal right. I’m very interested to see how subsequent film versions turn out.

Superstitions - by HFC member Dorlana

2008-11-17T08:56:00.006-06:00

One of the themes I’m using for my novel this National Novel Writing Month is superstitions. I’ve never really been that superstitious except for doing things like throwing salt over my shoulders, just in case. (Yes, both because I didn’t know which one. BTW it’s the left.) However, my interest sparked after my mom told me how my grandpa often reminisced about growing up in Alabama. One of the stories he told was how his mother (pictured on the left) died when he was just five years old; it happened right after she told him not to shoo the birds away that had landed on their front porch because it meant death.

Around the same time my mom was telling me her memories of her dad, I had begun the rough draft of one of my very first supernatural fairy tale (Little Red Riding Hood) inspired short stories. It set the entire mood, and “Silverweed Muffins” was born. Now I’m taking that short story and using it to inspire the novel.

In researching superstitions, I discovered a few interesting sites on the internet (listed below) and finally found a reference book I really like, Dictionary of Superstitions by David Pickering. Even if you don’t need the book for reference, it's interesting to see how our lives today are influenced by these superstitions from the past.

Here is a good list of superstitions I found at bored.com http://www.bored.com/oldsuperstitions/

And this site list superstitions from Europe - http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/superstition.html

There are 72 superstitions in this really awesome print - Superstitions by artist James C Christensen - http://www.swoyersart.com/james_christensen/superstitions.htm

So how about you? Are you superstitious?

Supernatural Fairy Tales

Socializing Media (Stripping Down part two)

2008-10-24T08:35:00.001-06:00

posted by: Victor

No, not THAT kind of socialization! You hyper-sensitive Republicans... relax!

In part one, I talked about how I'm on the verge of transitioning over to an all-digital entertainment lifestyle. Today, I posit the question of how it will affect those of us that aspire to create entertainment content (and hopefully make money at it one day).

Right now, we still live in a world that is mostly dominated by physical entertainment goods. DVD's, books, magazines, CD's. You can still go and purchase something and hold it in your hands and lend it to someone or eventually sell it in a garage sale for 50 cents. We're still in a world where to be an author or a musician or a filmmaker, you are assumed to have produced some sort of tangible object that can be bought and sold. But those days are quickly evaporating.

Already, we don't think twice about music as a purely digital product. When was the last time you purchased a CD and actually listened to that CD (as opposed to immediately digitizing it and burying the CD in a box with other CD's)? The same is becoming more and more true with cable on-demand downloads, Netflix downloads, Hulu.com, Fancast.com (a great sites that collects all the free TV and movies that are available online) and on and on. The only thing we're waiting on is the one uber-device that makes all of this seamless.

And when that device or technology arrives (in the next few years, at most), what's next for the content creators?

While the works you create will be instantly available to ANYONE in the world, how do you put your work in front of them? And by the same token, EVERYONE's books and movies and music will be similarly available to everyone in the world. How does one stand out in this new world of media democratization? As many of us here on Humble Fiction Cafe have learned, it's HARD to make yourself heard when everyone else is squawking at roughly the same volume. It's a lot of work. And it's by no means foolproof. It takes a lot to convince someone to part with their hard-earned money for whatever article of entertainment you have created.

One solution is pricing I think. I think twice about purchasing something for three dollars. Five dollars. Twenty dollars. The fifteen to twenty-five dollar range is reserved only for the best of the best. Those authors or artists who I will buy sight unseen. But how much am I willing to risk on someone I've never heard of or that doesn't have any sort of track record? Ten dollars? Nope. Five dollars? Still too risky. A dollar? Maaaaybe. Fifty cents? Now we're talking. A quarter? Sure! At that price, even if it's the stinker of all time, I haven't made an investment that I'll regret. I'm sure most people would fall into this category.

So with that in mind, how many of you would be willing to sell a digital copy of your book or song at ten cents? A nickel? Who wouldn't be willing to buy a book for a nickel or a dime? What if selling it at that price point gets a million people to try it? That's $50,000 or $100,000. How many of us would be satisfied with $10,000? That's selling your book for just a PENNY. Granted, you have to find a way to get your book in front of a million people, but with the internet, this sort of thing isn't impossible.

The record companies and movie studios are still hung up on the big price points for their products. 99 cents per song is a nice price point, but it's still only going to be songs that I WANT. I'm still reluctant to just try out new music at that price. But for a nickel per song? I'd happily by a new band's album. I'd buy a bunch of new artists albums.

The key to all of this is the socializing of all this content. We're already a good chunk of the way there, with the explosion of social websites like Facebook and Myspace. There are tons of other niche social websites, like Goodreads, and Flickr and YouTube. These are all great at what they do, but the sticking point is that for the most part, these sites still don't talk to each other. It's not yet a seamless experience. I have to leave Facebook (where I have dozens of friends) to go to Goodreads, where I have a much smaller circle of friends, who are unlikely to be on the site at the same time I am. While I can post a review of a book on Goodreads, or attempt to start a discussion about it, it will usually go unseen for the most part by the vast majority of my online-capable friends. Unless I post a link to my Goodreads review, no one on Facebook or Myspace even knows I did so.

So the key is all of these sites talking to each other constantly. When a friend posts something in Facebook, for instance, it shows up in my 'friendfeed' almost immediately. Nearly every item is clickable or able to have a comment posted on it. This feature makes a simple posting able to become a discussion thread. And now, not just me and that one friend, but me and everyone else I know will be able to see that discussion and also contribute to it. It's always fascinating when a friend from one of my social groups interacts with a friend from another group, such as when an old school friend from grade school in Canada responds to a comment that a recent filmmaking friend made.

In the same vein, social networking will become the new shopping mall. We are all influenced by the items our friends buy or recommend. Things like postings and comments in Facebook will soon become (I believe) the greatest form of word-of-mouth advertising ever created.

Already on Goodreads, it's possible to immediately click on any reviewed or recommended book and purchase it from Amazon.com. But like I said earlier, at the current price points, I balk. But if when reading that review, (and even if it only kind of sounded like something I might be interested in), if it only cost a nickel or a dime or a quarter, I don't think I'd hesitate to click BUY. I may never actually read it, but it didn't hurt my wallet to purchase it. If it only cost me a quarter or so to immediately get in on whatever all my friends were suddenly talking about or downloading, I'd be crazy not to.

We're still a few years away from the final seismic media shift, but it's coming. The whole pricing and distribution structure for media will collapse on itself and then be reborn. Instead of studios and publishers telling us what to watch or listen to or read, we'll be telling each other. And the media we recommend to each other will be entirely different than what those corporations would be shilling.

And I believe that's when all of us will finally have a chance to be on equal ground with the 'big boys.'

Stripping Down (part one)

2008-10-22T06:48:00.002-06:00

Submitted by Victor

No.. it's not that kind of post. Get your head out of the gutter!

What I'm talking about it stripping down and streamlining one's life. Reducing the clutter.

This has been on my mind increasingly over the past few months and lately it's directly intersected with the realm of entertainment, including reading and writing. Specifically, I wonder if we NEED to have all of these books, DVD's, comics, CD's etc in our physical possession.

We are pretty close to realizing all-digital experience. For me, it started with my music collection. I digitized it years ago and haven't seen one of my actual CD's since (I've got upward of 500 CD's). I used to love putting the CD's on shelves in my media room and just LOOKING at them. I loved seeing the vast collection. But... I haven't seen those CD's in years. And I have to say, I don't miss them even remotely. I have all my music on my computer and my Ipod, every single song is available to me at a moment's notice.

A good friend of mine is in the process of setting up a home media server at his house, with one central computer that holds all the music and photos, and allows for the digitization of DVD's, and the recording of TV shows. And then through his home network, any computer or XBOX can access any of that media content in any room, and even remotely through the internet. If you have enough hard drive space, ALL of your movies, CD's and photos can be captured digitally, allowing you to dispense with having your physical DVD's or CD's take up any space.

Likewise, I've discovered digital versions of my entire comic book collection. As much as I have always loved looking at the physical comics, and flipping through my longboxes, I have to say that the experience of reading the comics on my laptop computer (on a screen that's actually significantly bigger than a comic book) is a superior experience. I've been looking askance at my comic book collection lately, which is taking up a lot of space in my "library", and wondering if it's time to pack them up and put them in storage, or more extreme yet, SELL them all.

So now we come to where this intersects with this blog's primary focus, books. I love my books. More than CD's or DVD's or comics, I love seeing my book collection on my shelves. I love seeing entire series with matching covers all lined up. But I've got a lot of books (not as many as SOME members of Humble Fiction Cafe, you know who you are), and unless I find room for more bookcases, I'm going to have to start going two deep on some shelves. And that, of course, is bringing me to the question:

Is it time to get rid of my book collection?

Again, make no mistake. I love my books. But the allure of streamlining and no longer having to own and store and haul hundreds of books is becoming almost too tempting to ignore.

The recent advent of book-readers like the Amazon Kindle is making the need for having a physical book in your hands almost obsolete. That technology isn't entirely there yet, but it's close. And for that matter, reading a book on my laptop isn't the headache it once would have been. I've already got dozens of great free books that publishers have made available and they are releasing more and more free e-books every day.

One of the rationales for owning and collecting so many books is to be able to have them at one's fingertips should one suddenly need to read them or flip through them. Or perhaps because of the fear that if we don't keep this copy, that we might never see another copy of it again. These were all reasonable concerns back in the day, but now, thanks to EBay and Amazon and all the myriad online booksellers, I challenge you to go to any book in your collection and not be able to find a copy available online. If you REALLY need a book, it can be in your hands overnight.

And if the internet still scares you, there's always the library. With its system of inter-library book loaning, there's hardly any book that's not available to you with only a minimal wait. For FREE!

So DO we need to own books (or any media for that matter)? If, like me, you're about at overload with clutter and STUFF, the thought of totally streamlining and going all-digital with one's media collection is so so so tempting. As I've found with my CD collection, I ultimately don't miss SEEING them.

So where does this lead for those of us that desire to CREATE content? I'll discuss that in part two later this week.

Daybreak

2008-10-12T20:27:00.006-06:00

Good Morning!

You may be reading this at any time of the day, but I want to temporarily beam you to an eastern shoreline as the sun breaks over the wide Atlantic.

I have added a new musical composition to my Magix music files, so look for the link to my Blog (Gary Denton) on the right. There is a link on that page for my Magix Music page. Look in the files for Daybreak. You''ll find two different files. One with the sound of wind and surf (my wife's preference) and one without- just in case you want to enjoy a sunrise without getting sand in your imagination.

I'm posting about it here because my Humble Fiction Cafe friend Linda, challenged me to compose this piece. I mentioned to her that I was working on a sunset piece, but she said that I should consider a sunrise; everybody does sunset stuff. And I have to admit- this was more challenging than I would have thought.

I hope you all enjoy the music, and the sentiments of a blessed beginning to your day- anytime you should desire to start it.

Enjoy!

Gary

Writer Blogs

2008-10-10T20:07:00.004-06:00

by Sheryl Tuttle

I enjoy blogging. As a writer, it's only natural that blogging would easily become one of my favorite pastimes. It's an opportunity to practice the art of creative writing – and in my opinion, all writing is creative – in a quick, digestible format for my blogger readers. But, is a blog necessary for a writer?

The viewpoints certainly vary. On the one camp, writers are encouraged to maintain a blog and build a reader base. The theory is that for each new book the writer authors, they will have an immediate fan base of people that will rush out to buy the new book. Sounds logical.

But what constitutes a "good" blog for a writer?

The blogs I most enjoy seem to have a theme, i.e. they are about something. Take for instance Supernatural Fairy Tales, the blog of Humble Fiction Café member Dorlana Vann. In her blog, Dorlana posts a monthly short story of a modernized fairy tale with an added supernatural element. She also posts articles about mythical creatures, such as elves, fairies and mermaids. In addition to her own stories and articles, Dorlana features guest bloggers. But in the end, everything relates back to fairy tales with a paranormal twist.

Another example of a writer blog with a clear topic is Eavesdrop Writer Blog. Read What I Hear. by Vivienne. This creative blog describes situations and conversations overheard by the author. They are entertaining observations of true life that spark the imagination.

Having a theme works especially well for non-fiction writers who typically have a specialty or particular subject matter about which they write. These authors' blogs capture readers with similar interests and enable the author to position themselves as experts.

For writers such as myself, who haven't quite yet found their writing niche, it isn't so easy. Many writers blog about writing. Interesting, yes, but the problem … and this leads to the opposing viewpoint of whether or not all writers should have blogs… is that there are so many. With hundreds, probably thousands, of writer blogs out there, what can you possibly do to make yours stand out?

A central idea is good, but equally important is that the blogger writes about what most interests him or her. This gives the blog a more personal feel. Regular updates are also vital, but daily are much too frequent. Once or twice a week seems to work well. Finally, unless it is a subject near and dear, and the author has done an outstanding job writing about it, I personally prefer shorter posts. Ones that don't take too much time to read.

My own blog contains book reviews, viewpoints of current events, and snippets of what's happening in my writer life. While I love my blog WordProverb, I'm not so sure it has mass appeal.

What's your opinion? For the blogs you frequent and read, do they have a theme? How often are they updated and what is it that draws you back?

Writers Block and Hurricanes: When Natural Disasters Hit

2008-09-29T17:10:00.001-06:00

By Kelli D. Meyer

A little over two weeks ago hurricane Ike hit Houston. Hard. And while I was lucky enough to escape with my family, my animals, and most of my house intact, the storm did do a whammy on me in another way. The storm took out my electricity, and it stayed out for 13 days.

That meant no lights, no septic system (yes, I'm a country mouse), no air conditioning, and no television. It meant no fresh food. It meant no nighttime reading except by flashlight. It also meant no computer.

Which led me to a moment of self discovery: I can't write without a computer. Well, maybe "can't" is putting it a bit strongly. I suppose if someone threatened my life I could put pen to paper and produce some prose. But barring that eventuality, it just ain't gonna happen. There's some basic disconnect between my brain and my hand when my fingers are grasping a pen instead of pounding a keyboard. My favorite theory is that my thoughts flow faster than ink can follow. It's a theory I find immensely flattering. But the reality may be a bit less complimentary. It could be that I'm just plain scared of that blank paper.

For some reason, a blank computer screen doesn't frighten me. I feel no compunction about filling up that pristine white space with first-draft silliness that may never see the light of day. But paper? Whoa. That's the real world. That's where finished—or at least proofread—drafts belong. It's no place for free-flow writing that makes no sense. There's no delete key when you're writing on paper. There's no "cut and paste". What you write is what you have, in all its ugliness, and there's no taking it back.

So, despite picking up pen and paper several times post-Ike, I accomplished exactly nothing.

Until today.

Today, for the first time in more than two weeks, I rejoined my writing partner for our daily "eat breakfast, drink coffee, talk and, oh yeah, write" meeting at Panera Bread. And, wonder of wonders, I wrote! Words absolutely flew from my fingers. And they weren't half bad. Just for the record, this wasn't happening pre-Ike. Not only weren't words flying, they hadn't even crawled in quite a while.

So it seems something about the hurricane helped my writing. I don't know if it was the time off, the excessive heat to my brain, or the diet of nothing but chips and chocolate, and I don't care. When it comes to writing inspiration, I'll take it any way I can get it.

Thanks, Ike.

Is Music the Kiss of Death? by HFC member, Dorlana

2008-09-03T07:01:00.005-06:00

Recently I was reading a discussion over at BlogCatalog about things people hate to see on blogs. One of the things mentioned was music. Someone said, “It is the kiss of death.”

This made me a little upset because I have music on my blog, Supernatural Fairy Tales I really like the music, but I don't want to annoy readers.

So my question is… Do you think music on a blog or website is annoying or enjoyable?

Saying "No" Nicely

2008-08-07T08:05:00.002-06:00

Rejection hurts. There's just no way around it. There's also no way around the fact that if you're a writer – and you're brave enough to send your writing out for publication – you're going to get rejections. So following that logic to its obvious conclusion: if you write, you're going to get hurt.

I thought I was ready for this. I knew I was going to get rejection letters. I'd steeled myself. I'd psyched myself up. I was indestructible.

Then I got my very first rejection, and it was… MEAN!

No, I'm not just whining. And it's not just my opinion. I've asked friends, family, fellow writers and uninvolved strangers, and the consensus is that the unnamed agent who wrote this rejection was having a really bad day and wanted to share it.

What did he say? To protect the guilty, I've decided not to share the entire text of the e-mail, but I will give you the key phrases:

"…the writing quality and character development are decent…"

"…the plot line and supernatural aspects of the work come off as sloppy and at times, silly…"

Ouch!

Decent? Sloppy? Silly? Could he possibly have chosen more demeaning, inflammatory words?

Needless to say, I was wishing heartily for one of those impersonal form rejections. If this was what you got when agents took the time to get personal, I'd just pass, thank you very much.

Then, within a couple of weeks, my respect for agents was restored when I received the world's nicest rejection. This time I will share names, because Andrea Somberg deserves praise and recognition for this one. Ms. Somberg managed to say "no, thank you" to my manuscript in a way that was kind, helpful and left me with an uninjured ego. Here is an excerpt from her e-mail:

"…there's some good, smooth prose in these pages, as well as a good narrative pace. Great tension throughout! It's with regret, then, that I must admit that I didn't fall in love with these chapters as much as I had hoped. Perhaps part of the problem is that Anne and Philip felt overly familiar to me. I couldn't help but feel they lacked that extra spark, that extra development that would mark them as particularly compelling, unique protagonists - which is so important in order to convince editors that this book would stand out from the crowd. Kelli, in spite of these chapters' strengths, I'd better pass. I suspect that, based on my above reservations, I just wouldn't be the best advocate for the project…"

Wow. Now *that's* the kind of rejection you don't mind receiving. Not only was she as complimentary as someone turning you down can be, she also gave me some solid critique information to work with. Ms. Somberg, if you ever happen to read this, thank you.

As for that other agent, and any others who may be tempted to relieve their stress at the expense of a hopeful writer, I have a quote for you. In the immortal words of Thumper in Bambi:

"If you can't say something nice… don't say nothing at all."

I'm an INFJ - What about You?

2008-07-27T19:21:00.003-06:00

by Sheryl Tuttle
HFC member

When I tell people I’m an INFJ, almost everyone asks what I mean. INFJ is my Myers Briggs personality profile, and the letters stand for Introversion, iNtuitive, Feeling, Judging. While I won’t go into the details of each of these “types,” I’ll summarize as follows.

I – Downtime, or reflection, is my energy source
N – With less interest in details, I tend to look for the “big picture”
F – I empathize when making decisions
J – My preference is for order and structure, and for things to be settled

Great news! According to Do What You Are: Discover the Perfect Career for You Through the Secrets of Personality Type by Paul D. Tieger & Barbara Barron-Tieger, good “arts” careers for INFJs include Playwright, Novelist, and Poet. So at least I’ve confirmed writing is a good fit for my personality type!

But that’s not what’s prompted me to write about personality type.

At a writers’ group meeting several weeks ago, we talked about our great chemistry and how each member contributes a different skill set. Gary talked about Dorlana’s ability to see where the story should start, Chrissa’s capacity at florid description, Theresa’s skill of natural dialog, and Kelli’s passion with punctuation, just to name a few. Then he mentioned my ability to see the details.

Wow. Imagine that. Me – see the details!

What a surprise that was. You see, my “N” is real strong in my INFJ. Strong to a fault. I see the forest, but rarely notice the trees. I couldn’t tell you what color shirt my husband was wearing when I dropped him off at work this morning. Nor could I tell you the color or type car that most of my neighbors drive, although I do know a few. I may not even notice when a family member gets a new haircut. I just don’t pay attention to those details.

Yet here I was receiving what I feel is a terrific complement. Thank you, Gary! Which got me to thinking… do I really see the details while reading the work of my colleague writers?

Knowing your strengths and weaknesses helps. Since I am so aware of my inattentiveness to detail, I think when I’m tasked to look at or read something, I pay particular attention. And while I read chapters of novels or short stories for the group, I typically have the “big picture” in mind and usually will have read through the selection more than once. So as I read, I look at those details to see if they fit with the whole picture. Anyway, that’s what I’m guessing.

Now I’m curious – do you know your Myers Briggs personality profile? If you do, please share it in the comments section and I’ll bet we see a truly diverse group of personality types from our contributing writers and our readers.

Whether it’s our writers’ group, or any group for that matter, Gary is right. It’s all our differences that make us so great; and together, we’re all pretty awesome!

The Three Types of Writing (In My Book, At Least)

2008-07-19T11:51:00.000-06:00

Or maybe more accurately, the Three Types of Reading.

Over the past couple of years, as I have been examining the craft of writing a lot more intensely, I've also been taking a much closer look at HOW I read a book. For myself, I've realized I'm able to classify the way I read books into three categories:

I love the characters and just enjoy spending time with them. These types of stories are almost review-proof in that I'm not remotely looking for, or expecting, a work of art. A book I'm reading now (and enjoying) is "His Majesty's Dragon" by Naomi Novik. It's a very clever story imagining that dragons are a common part of the world and have been integrated into the military. This series takes place during the Napoleonic Wars, and the dragons basically act as the Air Force. The main character is a former Navy captain who discovers a dragon's egg and when it hatches, they bond, forcing them to become a dragon/pilot pair. The story is interesting and clever, but early on I realized that the plot was secondary to the joy I felt from spending time with Lawrence and the dragon, Temeraire. They are both such interesting characters that I'd like to know personally. There are lots of logic issues that make you scratch your head when you really think about them ("How could the world have dragons and yet end up in exactly the same situation, historically, in the early 1800's that it was in without dragons? Surely there would have been massive historical changes prior to that, right?"), but again these don't matter because the characters are so compelling. And this fact surprises me because I'm nornally such a stickler for logic within the books I read and films I watch.
Sometimes it's just the World of the books that I love, and I don't care what characters are used to tell those stories. Fantasy series are good for this, obviously. I'll read any story set in George R.R. Martin's "A Song of Ice and Fire" world. The world and setting are what make the plot and characters compelling. However, this can backfire horribly when an author sets too many stories within the same world and uses the same characters to tell those stories over and over. I can handle one or maybe two major world-altering events that utilize the same characters. But when we're on our third or fourth or tenth trilogy where the same characters are having to save the day, it makes all the stories, past and present, seem like they were wastes of time. ("If that last thing didn't wipe out the Dark Lord, then what was the point of that entire five book series I read?"). A series that did great at telling a variety of stories within the same universe, but didn't overuse any characters was Julian May's "Pliocene Exile" series. It told what turned out to be a brilliant looping story over the course of many many generations and across millions of years. Once a main character had had his or her story told, they were moved off the stage for the next figure to grab the spotlight.
The third type of book I read is Author-based. I read these books because I just like how the author writes, and don't care what the story is initially about or who the characters are or if it's in a world I know I'll likely enjoy. There aren't many authors that I'll read whatever they come out with next. Robert Charles Wilson is one. He writes brilliant science fiction, with so far only one of his books being a sequel to a previous one. I enjoy his writing style (even though it changes radically from book to book) and the ideas he comes up with. A writer that I don't personally like, but one who seems to fit this same bill is Stephen King. There are dozens of other major authors who fall into this category for people, but for me, there aren't many that I'll buy their next book sight unseen. On the flipside, two of the authors I listed above, George R.R. Martin and Julian May have written many books outside of their 'universes'. But I have zero desire to sample any of those. I want these authors to just write within the worlds I've come to be fascinated with. Likewise, I'm not overly interested to see what Naomi Novik does after her Temeraire books. I wonder how the world will embrace J.K. Rowlings' non-Harry Potter books she writes in the future? To me, it seems like the world fell in love with her characters and her world, and unless she writes more stories set in that world, I can't imagine her fans will be interested. A book I'm reading right now, Carlos Ruiz Zafon's "The Shadow of the Wind" is perhaps the most beautifully written book I've come across in a long time. It's a joy just to read, regardless of what's going on with the plot, or what character is currently on stage. I can't wait to read what he comes up with next, regardless of what it's about.

As a writer, is it possible to PREDICT how your book will be perceived? How many authors set out to write something meaninful or filled with epic ideas, but come to discover that the reader could care less about those ideas and instead just love the characters, regardless of the story they are being surrounded by? I know there are some writers that have gotten stranded within the series' they've created and have to stay there if they want to keep being able to write for a living. No one cares about their other stuff.

Obviously some authors get away with different combinations of these.

What about you? What if you ended up achieving incredible success with one of your first stories and it turned into a career of writing successful sequels? Would you be happy continuing to write within that universe, using those same characters, for the next twenty or thirty years? What if you wanted to tell other types of stories, in other genres with other characters, but your fans turned a blind eye to anything else you wrote? Would you continue to write stuff no one wanted to read, or would you go back to the tired characters and world and tell yet another story set there?

I don't know if I could do what some of these writers do. I've got so many story ideas and so many characters that I think it would feel like the worst kind of prison to have to stay confined within such a narrow range of storytelling, regardless of how lucrative it might be. As much as Rowling has benefitted from Harry Potter, I can only imagine that she's thankful to be rid of him for at least a little while.

But... I guess I'll cross that bridge if I'm ever able to find it.

- Victor DiGiovanni

The Plot Thickens

2008-07-12T19:18:00.003-06:00

THE PLOT THICKENS
By
Theresa Laws
HFC Member

Recently I heard a discussion among writers about what constitutes a story. According to some judges in a recent contest I entered, a “story” has a plot and if it doesn’t have plot, then it is just a “slice of life.” Okay. So, if I write a piece about what I did today, then I can’t call it a story. Plot is the all important thing.
So, what is plot?
Seventh grade English class was one of my favorite classes because it was easy. There was the required reading of novels that were way too long and stuffy poetry, all written by old men. Oh, I remember it fondly. I actually enjoyed reading “Treasure Island” and to this day I can still recite lines by Robert Frost.
Between discovering that Mary Kay, the most popular girl in class, had pimples on the back of her neck, and Randy, the budding teenage heartthrob, wore jeans that were too short, I learned something about literature and the art of creating it.
There was a lot of fluff that went on in that class, but my teacher uttered one sentence that I’ve remembered all these years. That one sentence has taught me so much about writing and helped me focus when I get lost. He said –
“Plot is getting your characters in trouble and getting them out again.”
There it is in a nutshell. Everything you need to know to tell a story.
But wait! What kind of trouble? What does the word “trouble” mean? Conflict! It takes conflict to make a real story. It there is no conflict (trouble) in your story, then you don’t have a story. You may have an interesting setting, and you may even have some engaging characters, but if they don’t have a conflict of some kind, inward or outward, then all you have is a slice of nice character’s lives in a really cool place.
Conflict is about need. When people need something, want something, and can’t get it then there is usually conflict. For example, take the age old conflict between parents and teenagers. The teen needs to have some freedom, they want to go somewhere, or dress a certain way, or they don’t do well in school. The parent needs to know their child is safe, that they are learning to make their way in the world, that they are well thought of. This is an instant recipe for conflict. It’s all about characters needing something.
A husband needs space and male companionship after a hard week. His wife needs some attention and a romantic dinner. Pow! Conflict. A story just waiting to be told. Any conflict between characters. or inside a single character, can create plot. When you write a story, be sure your characters want or need something and then put roadblocks in their way.
Now, the second part of that sentence I learned so long ago is “getting them out again.”
Resolution. Stories must have some kind of resolution in order to be satisfying for the reader. Your characters must make a change, either they change, or the situation does. Figuring out what that is, is your job as a writer.
So, when you sit down to write a story, think of conflict and need. Trouble and getting out of it. C’mon. I know you can. You were a teenager once, right?

Conferences - by Linda

2008-06-24T09:46:00.003-06:00

This past weekend, Kelli and I attended an authors and agents conference in Austin. I was a little concerned about spending that much money, and wondered if it would really be worth it. Now that it's over, I have to say that it was worth every penny. I learned a lot, and I'm not just talking about from the workshops. We had several opportunities to informally meet and pitch to agents and editors. In those circumstances, the agents were very patient and guided us through the process of pitching. And they were encouraging.

The formal pitch session was still terrifying for me, but I made it through. The agent I had was kind and led the session until I quit being a wreck. Then we got down to talking about my book.

So, here's my advice for you if you want to attend a conference:

Make sure it's a good one.
Check out the agents before you go and know which ones you want to approach.
Pay attention to the dress code or at least go for business casual. This is not the time to get your freak on.
Don't get so drunk at the cocktail hours that the agents are more interested in your antics than your book.
Know your book well; plot, characters, subplots....
Polish your pitch. Practice it. Then practice your informal one. Keep it short and as uncomplicated as possible. If you make your friends' eyes glaze over while talking about your book chances are the same thing will happen with an agent.
Listen to what different agents tell you.
Don't take it personal. It's just business.
Meet as many of the other authors as possible. Ask about their books, how their interviews went, what different agents are like. Exchange business cards.
Most of all, enjoy the experience and remember what you learned for the next one.

Even though I was nervous, I will probably attend next year. I don't think the experience can be beaten.

Linda Lindsey

The winner of our Split book and candle giveaway!

2008-06-21T07:44:00.003-06:00

Thanks everyone for your comments and/or your email entries. We have our winner…

Congratulations Kat! Please email HFC with your mailing address to claim your signed Split anthology and a Studio 3B created split candle.

"Split" Book and Candle Giveaway!

2008-06-04T14:44:00.014-06:00

Humble Fiction Cafe is pleased to announce our first giveaway! Enter to win a signed copy of our dichotomy/opposites anthology SPLIT and a rich Cappuccino Brule' scented 3x4 pillar Candle, created by Studio 3B.

How to Enter/Rules

There are two ways to enter. Either comment on this post, using your profile (sorry no anonymous entries), or by clicking here to send an email—Split Giveaway in the subject line (Email addresses will not be used for any other purpose.)

We will be taking entries until midnight, June 20th.

One winner will be chosen by drawing.

Winner’s name will be posted on Humble Fiction Cafe blog on June 21, 2008. We will need the winner to email HFC with their postal address by July 21, 2008.

Only residents of the continental U.S. and APO/FPO addresses are eligible.

Good Luck!

Split
by Humble Fiction Cafe

Come into a world of love-struck fish and super-intelligent bugs; of the ordinary and the bizarre; of then and now; of this world and the next; of people you know and folks you hope never to meet. These twenty-seven original stories and poems have but one thing in common: they all show two halves of an idea, two sides of a coin. They show what happens when a concept becomes SPLIT.

My Big Fat New Life

2008-05-25T23:52:00.006-06:00

2008 has been a year of many firsts for me (like this is my first blog entry ever). In January I embarked on a journey to change several things in my life at once. While this may sound exciting, it’s actually quite exhausting. So, here are a few tips for anyone thinking of remaking his or her life.

1) Don’t – Seriously, once you start you won’t want to give up. Then you start trying to bend the laws of physics to squeeze 24 hours and 3.95 minutes out of every day. Those extra 3.95 minutes come from dividing the extra 24 hours we have this leap year by 365.

2) Make sure you have lots of support – Every hair-brained scheme needs at least one supporter to tell you that, in spite of reality, you can do it. I have like 5 or more so I’m really in trouble.

3) Overestimate your ability or underestimate the resources that it will take – I think if I really knew what it would take to accomplish the goals that I set for 2008 I probably would have kept procrastinating for many more years.

4) Be willing to fail and start over – Go big or go home is the 2008 motto. I’ve never been one to go home early so big it is.

5) Enjoy the ride – Not knowing where my changes are leading me has been the biggest adventure I’ve had in a long time. Regardless of the outcome I think I’ll learn a lot about myself. Who could ask for more than that? That, and sleep, and time.

Lynn

Most helpful writing books - Linda

2008-05-07T10:32:00.003-06:00

There has been much talk within the group and in some writing blogs lately about helpful writing books. There are thousands of them out there, so what is a wannabe writer to do other than wade through them spending lots of cash? Why, ask other writers for their opinions, of course.

Here's my list of four must haves:

1) "On Writing" by Stephen King - Beyond being rather inspiring, the book is full of advice on "how to be a writer." Mr. King is pretty blunt in this book about what it takes to be successful. His advice is sensible, his examples of his own failures are encouraging, his examples of his successes are inspiring. He explains that writers have to read and write. You need to read in the genre you want to write in constantly. You need to sit down every day and put words on a page. He discusses his personal writing schedule and setup and talks about how different it is now than when he started out with a typewriter in a corner of the laundry room. He talks about his collection of rejection letters and how he almost threw one of his biggest novels away. And, he talks about how valuable his wife is to his writing career. Every wannabe writer should read this book and think about whether or not they can do what it takes to succeed.

2) "The Writer's Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers" by Christopher Vogler - I almost left this book off the list. It's valuable, but damn it's long. This book spells out the steps in the heroes journey. Every story, no matter what length, is about the journey the main character embarks on. The journey may be physical, emotional, mental or a combination. Most people write these journeys without understanding what they are doing. This book explains it, gives examples from modern and classic movies, and breaks everything down into easy to find/easy to understand sections. It's a long read, but it's one of those "aha!" books where you read along and recognize the elements the author is talking about. Definitely worth the time.

3) "Writing the Breakout Novel" and the associated workbook by Donald Maas - I warn you now, keep a notebook by your side as you read the main book. Every page has something on it that you will want to include in your novel. I suggest reading the main book before or as you are writing your novel and then break out the workbook before you begin revising. This is probably the book that I consider most valuable to me as a writer. It goes beyond things like, "make sure you include all four senses in your scenes," or, "don't let the middle of the book fall flat." This book shows you how to do that by using examples from real books and stuff he makes up on the fly. He takes you through every element required in a story and shows you how to pump them up. It will take a plain story and turn it into a phenomenal one.

4) "The Elements of Style" by Strunk and White - Okay, this one could compete for most valuable book. It's small, easy to navigate, easy to understand, and include just about any grammar or punctuation issue you will come across in general writing. Yes, "The Chicago Manual of Style" contains more, but chances are you won't need most of it. This simple, inexpensive, little book will save you much embarrassment.

My writing library contain probably twenty books or so, but these are the four that are most worn. I constantly go back to them. You know that scene in "The Time Machine" where the main character jumps out of his machine, runs into his library and grabs a couple of books before jumping back on his machine? If I could only grab four writing books, these would be the four I would grab.

Linda Lindsey

Reading

2008-04-29T08:12:00.004-06:00

Thank goodness there is no commandment regarding blogging at work. The office dog is barking sharply and apparently has not chewed enough sticks this morning. I am craving Starbucks, more so every time there is a yip. Yip. Frappucino. Yip. Frappucino. Despite finding the fluffy little ankle-biter (only too literal) adorable, I'm going to need caffeine to get through this morning.

Why? Well...I've been on a reading kick. Suddenly, I'm finding book after book that might be interesting. Instead of loitering past the SFF section and daydreaming about writing, I'm finding myself susceptible to small press book ads and genres that I would ordinarily skip. Instead of (er...in addition to) reading the how-to books, I'm reading "why" books. Books on the theory behind fairy tales (are they truly all about Oedipus?) and books on the transcendence of certain types of journeys. Mysteries and romances and natural history and, of course, classic SFF. I'm hoping that this means that my mental studio is being re-fitted for a more productive rest of the year, but I'll settle for having a cheery spring full of good books.

Now, if only I could find that perfect "70's" book (or "80's" book) to fill out my books-summarizing-the-decade reading list. Any suggestions?

Chrissa

"Boomer Lit"

2008-04-20T23:27:00.006-06:00

Jordan E. Rosenfeld’s On the Edge column in Writers Digest magazine this month is titled “Boomer Lit”. The subject of this article is the emergence of the over-50 female book buyer and the kind of fiction and non-fiction this group is reading. The article notes the Boomer demographic is interested in and increasingly demanding age-relevant material tailored to mature women and closely mirroring the lives and life-styles of this age group. The article pronounces this a “trend” and calls it “Boomer Lit”.

The premise is that the female Boomer reader wants stories that address the realities of her life set in familiar settings. I cannot embrace that premise. I do not subscribe to the premise that a large portion of my demographic is most interested in stories built around illness, second romances, unpleasant relatives and the politics of the PTA life. While I’m sure there is a segment of the group that is interested in those things, I know there are many more who still read mystery and adventure, fantasy and the mystic. And as important to writers, they are still buying those books.

The most polite thing I can say is I’m not sure “Boomer Lit” is a term with any lasting relevance. The women of the Boomer generation line up with everyone else to buy the latest Harry Potter book and to purchase non-fiction like Tipping Point and Beautiful Boy. They continue to read the classics and great historical works. Magnifying a narrow branch of reading interest in an enormous demographic does not make a trend.

Joy Vyoral

EXPERIENCING LIFE- OR HOW TO MURDER YOUR WIFE

2008-04-13T22:10:00.003-06:00

Theresa Laws

HFC Member

Please don't panic. This is a blog about writing, not a recipe for committing a crime!

One piece of advice that comes early to every writer is: "Write what you know." So, let me think now, I know how to - what? I've done - what? I'm an expert at - what? When you think about it, most of us are average people living average lives. We're not kidnappers, bank robbers, or murderers. We don't dive into the ocean depths or climb Mr. Everest. We couldn't begin to know how. We haven't lived in the distant past and we have absolutely no knowledge of what things will be like in the distant future. We haven't had a hundred lovers, we haven't experienced abject poverty, lived through a harrowing event. And the list goes on.

Back in 1965, Jack Lemmon starred in the movie "How To Murder Your Wife" I was 14 and newly introduced to the magic of the big screen. Every time the movie changed at the theatre in my little home town, I was there with my dollar. Sixty cents for the ticket, forty cents for snacks. The thrill I got when I drew back that heavy, dark red velvet curtain and entered the theatre was electrifying. I loved the movies. Even in high school when my boyfriend and I went to the drive in, we parked on the front row and actually watched the show!

In 1965, the sensibilities were a little (OK, a lot) different than they are today, and in 2008 "How To Murder Your Wife" would certainly be seen as sexist and offensive, but for the 60's, it was acceptable.

Jack Lemmon played a party-hardy bachelor who drew a popular cartoon about a party-hardy bachelor. His big deal was that his character never did anything that he, the writer, had never done himself, and his readers knew it. Well, one morning the writer wakes up after a particularly wild night, to find himself married to a beautiful woman who he doesn't know and who can't even speak English. Now, in order to be true to his fans, he must write this faux pas into the comic strip. Fearing the end of his alter ego's popularity and his own livelihood, he plots to have the character murder the wife. He devises a plan and goes through all the physical motions in real life to be sure that his character can actually do the deed and dispose of the body. And, in the comic strip, it does appear that the wife is indeed gone.

As luck would have it, the real wife finds the comic drawings, believes he is really going to kill her, and disappears. Now our hero is charged with her murder and as they said in the movie review jargon of the day - high jinx ensue. In the end, after being put on trial and the whole nine yards, all is well and the story has a happy, if somewhat sappy, ending.

The character in this movie takes "write what you know" literally and to a whole other level.

How much do we, as writers, need to do this? We struggle with this every time we sit down to craft a story. We worry if Mom or Dad, Sis, or Aunt Edna will see themselves. Will they be pleased, or will they never speak to us again? If we are truthful, probably the latter.

Life isn't pretty, at least not when we are telling the truth, and most of us just have average life experiences to draw from. But that's what makes it so compelling. Part of the job of a writer is to draw her reader into the story, to put them at the heart of the action and conflict. To make the reader say, "Wow, I know just how that feels," Or, "Ive been there, I've seen that, I know just what I would do if I were faced with this dilemma" We want to make the reader look into their own lives, pull out the emotions there and connect with us. And, we can't do that if we don't reach inside ourselves and "write what we know."

In our writer's group, we often talk about what makes a story. We're fond of saying "A story is a story, is a story," which means a story can be set anywhere, in any time period, with any given set of characters, but it has to have conflict, believable people and emotions. That's where writing about what we know comes from. We've all experienced emotions like love and hate. We've all been frightened, worried, tempted. We've seen family member's and friend's strengths and weaknesses.We've been confronted by the mean guy with road rage, the conniving bum on the street. In short, we've seen it all and as writers we've stored it all away. When we sit down to write a story, then we pull it out and write about it. Writing can and should be very emotional work.

So, it isn't necessary to experience every little thing in order to write about it. We don't really need to go out and rob a bank to experience greed, fear, triumph. We don't have to jump off a cliff or drive a race car. We just need to tap into what we've already felt and witnessed. And, we don't have to murder a spouse to write about it.

Second to None

2008-04-08T14:36:00.007-06:00

This week's post comes from HFC member and SPLIT contributing author, Gary Denton. Please do not send him money. No matter what he says, we don't have a treasurer.

I have great luck with the number two.

I have two children. I have two dogs. I have worked in Medical Imaging for two decades, and, for some cosmic reason, I have an amazing ability to come in second in writing competitions.

If you look back through my previous post, or read Sheltered Path, my short story in the Humble Fiction Café anthology Split, you will find that I entered the Fort Bend Writer’s Guild Spring Short Story contest last year, and came in second place.

This year, I entered a novel, and guess what?
I came in second.
Again.

It wasn’t an ordinary novel, mind you. No, it only contained six words.

Here is the back-story: Ernest Hemmingway, the master of brief, short, terse sentences, was once challenged to write a novel in only six words. He considered it for a moment, and produced the following gem: “For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.”

As far as I’m concerned, he nailed it. In short, (literally) he created all of the wonder, strangeness, comedy, tragedy, and conflict found in almost any novel, and only used six little words.

I'm no Hemmingway, and, if I needed proof, here it is in the form of my award winning, second place entry in the Fort Bend Writer's Guild Srping 2008 six word novel contest: “Read Road Less Traveled. Now lost.”
For those of you who’ve read M. Scott Peck’s classic, I apologize.

In hindsight, I decided that my entry was flawed, and should have been edited to read thusly: “Took road less traveled. Now lost.”

I think that works better. Heck, it may even have won first place.

So, I’m out five bucks for the top prize.

But I’m still second, and surprisingly- consistent.

Gary Denton

Family ties

2008-03-26T13:09:00.003-06:00

With the completion of Split, our Humble Fiction Café anthology, I found myself faced with a difficult task: letting my family read it. Not that my family – namely my mother, grandmother, and grandfather – aren’t supportive of my writing. They think I hung the moon, and I can’t imagine them thinking anything I wrote is less than brilliant.

Well, almost anything.

The problem is that for one of my stories, “Fade to Gray”, the story that ended up being the very first one in the book (no chance of hiding it), I borrowed liberally from my own family and life experiences for two of the characters and part of the plot. And these are not admirable characters, nor a cheerful plot.

In actual fact, the mother in the story, the “villain,” is neither my mother nor my grandmother. Thank heavens. She does, however, have some not-so-nice characteristics taken from each of them. And my grandfather, a recovered alcoholic, could possibly be seen in the father who is, you guessed it, another villain.

Now, I love, and I mean absolutely adore, my three “parents”. They did a fine, if somewhat unconventional, job of raising me, and we remain almost pathologically close to this day. Which is why I never let them read “Fade to Gray.” I didn’t want to hurt their feelings. And, to be honest, I just didn’t want to open up that can of worms. Why ask for trouble?

However, this is one of the best stories I’ve ever written, and I wasn’t willing to pull it from the book. If I wanted them to see the book (and I did), I’d have to let them read the story. So a couple of weeks after the book came out (I’d told them nothing about the book project because I wasn’t sure I could actually let them read it), I faced the music and showed them the story. It wasn’t pretty. My mother cried. My grandmother and grandfather had a huge fight, each convinced the other had ruined my life. It was traumatic for all concerned.

And yet we survived it. They all seem to have forgiven me, although my grandmother now refuses to touch things in my house without asking first because the mother in the story is – to put it mildly – meddlesome, and my mother keeps looking at me sideways and saying, “you better never,” because the daughter in the story ends up killing herself. My grandfather is maintaining absolute silence on the subject, although he has praised the book in general.

All of which is a long-winded way of musing about whether or not you should borrow from your own life for your writing. All the books say “write about what you know,” but I think there should be a disclaimer saying “don’t write about WHO you know… unless you’re willing to face the music.” I think any time we borrow from real-life people and situations to create our fiction – unless we’re sickeningly sweet about it – we are taking the risk of hurting people. And we have to weigh that risk against the emotional power it gives our writing. Is it worth it?

I think every writer has to answer that for herself. Are you using real-life people and situations because they’re vital to the story, or are you just taking jabs at people? Is the story compelling enough, and are you compelled enough to write it, to make it worth the damage it might do? Is this story important enough to you that you’re willing to live with the consequences?

At the end of the day, I don’t regret the story. It’s good, even if I do say so myself, and I’m proud of it. But I do wish I could have done it without hurting the people I love.

-- Kelli D. Meyer

Split and the Lessons Learned

2008-03-19T06:17:00.007-06:00

by HFC member Sheryl

I’ll never forget the day that Split arrived and I was able to hold our newly published book in my hands. Up until then, I knew we had all written and contributed stories and poems for an anthology of dichotomies. We had worked on it for months. We had read and critiqued each other’s work, watching the stories become more cohesive with each re-write. We had shared back-story and helped one another capture it in an appropriate format. We had labored over each of our stories. Yet it was when I held Split in my hand, that it all felt real.

For those of you new to this blog, Split is a book of 27 short stories and poems, each reflecting a whole or one-half of a dichotomy, or two mutually exclusive or contradictory ideas. The contributing authors belong to my writer’s group, Humble Fiction Café (HFC), a diverse mix of extremely talented writers at various stages in their writing careers.

I don’t remember the month, but in 2007 we decided to challenge ourselves to write a book and selected the theme of dichotomies. There is war/peace, hot/cold, guilt/innocence, create/destroy, and many more dichotomies reflected in our stories. Some of us worked hard to contribute just one story to the book, while other (more prolific) writers provided more. We all hope you read the book and let us know your favorite(s).

There were many lessons learned throughout the process, which is exactly why we undertook this project (HFC does not receive any profit from the sale of this book). I learned, for one, that as many times as you re-write and edit a story, there is more that can be done. Until you put it away and declare it “finished,” it isn’t done!

I discovered that there is a lot of work that goes into editing and cover design. Our group was fortunate enough to have the talent of Kelli Meyer and Victor DiGiovanni respectively for these tasks, and for that, we are all truly grateful.

But wait, there is more. A book introduction had to be written, a back cover synopsis, bio's for each author, and even descriptions to follow each story embodying the dichotomy. Then the book had to be organized. Whose story would appear first, second, last? And what organization would make the most sense. After all, some of the stories written were by-products of another author’s story, borrowing characters or locations or some other common thread. Everyone within HFC contributed magnificently to these tasks.

Finally, while we are the Humble Fiction Café, I know I for one experienced pride in the completed product. For days, Split was all I could think about or talk about, and the smile would not wipe off my face. It’s not about how many copies are sold or whether or not a book makes a best-seller list (although wouldn’t that be grand?). It’s all about the enormity of the project, the completeness, the giving forth of all your efforts that provides the satisfaction.

Participating in the creation of Split was hugely rewarding. What an outstanding group of individuals to have pulled this off and with a remarkably good book to boot. Kudos to the HFC!

Ten Ways You Know a Story was Written By Me - by HFC member Dorlana

2008-03-05T08:08:00.004-06:00

Last month I was out blog visiting and came across a post on Dr. John’s Fortress blog. I went back and tried to find the exact post, but I couldn’t, so the idea of this post is the same, but the title may be a little off. And I’m going to add a little bit. I’ve decided to play a little game of blog tag.

If you have been tagged:
1.) Write a post about ten ways you know a story was written by you on your blog.
2.) Then comment to this post with the link to your post.
3.) Tag six more blogging writers with links.

That’s it. Ok… Here are the ten ways you know a story was written by me.

1.) It was usually inspired by a fairy tale.
2.) It has a supernatural element.
3.) There is a romantic undertone.
4.) There is a lot of dialogue.
5.) Very little description is used.
6.) A tree is mentioned somewhere. (I have no idea how this happened…)
7.) Use of symbolism.
8.) Someone usually dies, or there is a death of some kind. (See #6)
9.) The humor is dry.
10.) There are several hidden references.

I’m tagging
Sheryl
Manictastic
Linda
Gary
Victor
JD

P.S. I was tagged this week on my blog Supernatural Fairy Tales. I had to write a 6 word memoir!

Inspirations, inhibitions and fluff - Linda

2008-02-22T08:45:00.002-06:00

A couple months ago, the group was sitting around talking about what we each do and don’t write. It became clear that we were all in self-imposed ruts. We each had one or two genres that we were comfortable writing in and several that we were just a little bit intimidated by.

That’s when Theresa came up with the idea for a letter exchange. Each of us would write a letter and put it in a pot. Then everyone would draw one of the letters and write a story inspired by it. The suggestion was that the member would choose a genre or style that was outside their comfort zone.

I had decided that the genres outside my comfort zone were spy novels/thrillers, mysteries, sweet romance, and science fiction. I decided to give science fiction a try. It’s my favorite genre to read, so why not try to write it? I had visions of space battles, star ships and terraforming in my head.

Then I got my letter. It was a birthday card from a child to her father. A little note tucked inside made it obvious that the parents were not married or on good terms. And it inspired absolutely nothing in the way of science fiction for me. So, I put it on my desk where I had to look at it every time I sat down.

It was very frustrating. I just could not figure out how to turn that letter into a space opera. I tried and tossed away several ideas. I came up with a great idea for a science fiction novel, but that didn’t help me with this project, and I realized I’m nowhere near ready to tackle a novel.

Slowly but surely, my mind dredged up some advice that I’d read somewhere. Stories, no matter what the genre, are about relationships. The relationship could be between a girl and her blind pony, a teen and his hotrod car, a young couple, a mother and her children, a man and his fellow soldiers. Science fiction stories aren’t about space ships, FTL drives or aliens. They, just like every other story, are about the relationships between the characters. The rest is just fluff.

I had an idea.

Then I had to decide whose point of view to tell the story from: the dad, the mother, or the child? For over a week, I was stuck. None of them seemed to work. Every idea felt horribly contrived. Then one afternoon I realized that relationships are never limited to just the immediate suspects. There was someone else involved in this story, and that’s who was telling it. And a new plot unraveled before me.

The dad is a Marine in the not so distant future. He’s a young guy who hasn’t figured out how to be a dad or a husband yet. But that’s not the important part. The important part is that he has these buddies, especially his Sergeant. And the sergeant is sitting beside the unconscious dad’s hospital bed, reading the card out loud. But why? Because the sergeant, his best buddy, feels horribly guilty.

The first draft showed me that I have a very good idea, but that I’m no where near done with the story. Writing science fiction is very intimidating. On my five bookcases, all stacked double deep, I have more science fiction than anything else. Just glancing in that direction fills your eyes with the names of masters and mistresses from the days of pulp to today. I have worshiped these authors since I was eleven years old. They are my heroes. How could I possibly think to attempt to keep their company?

This is way outside my comfort zone, and I don’t like that. It shouldn’t be. I love this genre. It’s what I read. And I can tell a story. I can make readers feel things about characters and care what happens to them. All the rest is just fluff.

Upon Becoming a Goblin

2008-02-10T08:36:00.001-06:00

Now in this group, there was a writer of little patience. And she had demonstrated her lack of patience by taking her few rejections hard and shutting the gates down around her writing enclosure and locking the door with a heavy padlock. Having shut the gates and locked them with the padlock she proceeded to cry out among the streets that she had been a writer, but had come upon some hard times and her writing enclosure was barred against her.
The other scribes heard this cry, but they withdrew further into their own enclosures and continued to write. Some received rejections, some received acceptances, but none shuttered their gates, nor padlocked their doors. Still, the writer of little patience continued to roam the streets and talk about stories that vanished into the pages of notebooks, half-written. Glittering landscapes arose before her and melted in the distance and she wished for a notebook in which to record them, but she had none. She cursed that all of her notebooks and writing implements were locked away in her writing enclosure, padlocked against her use.
At this point, one of the other scribes who had been writing a lengthy parable on the turtle who sleeps safe through the dry winter decided to toss the spent reeds from this endeavor into the street, where they would degrade in a natural fashion and return to the dust from which all written things come and go. These reeds were sharp and cracked and this scribe lived several stories up.
Below this scribe’s window, the writer of little patience was reclined in the shade, having tired of bemoaning her fate and, having given in to a further indulgence of laziness, was watching the activity on the street, which was like unto a reality show.
As the writer of little patience twirled the key to her writing enclosure on its chain and watched people walk by, she was pierced by a battery of old reeds that fell from the sky and pinned her where she lay. The writer of the parable of the turtle thus became the first writer to gain fame as a writer whose effort defeated a goblin of despair and laziness.
As to who wrote that fairy tale or whether the lazy writer of little patience did indeed become a goblin after being pierced by the reeds…well, I can’t really say. Laziness and impatience are scarcely the path to success, so why not the path to goblinhood?

Chrissa (who had better start writing again or who will be well on her way to goblinhood...)

"Blame It On Jimmy Buffett" - Joy Vyoral, HFC Member

2008-02-03T19:56:00.005-06:00

Blame it on Jimmy Buffett. Yes, Mr. Margaritaville himself. He’s finally done with his book A Salty Piece of Land something a parade of less-than-gifted fiction writers haven’t been able to do. I officially gave up on a book for which I had paid my own hard-earned money. After reading almost nine chapters of his 2004 novel about Tully Mars and his trek to the tropics from Wyoming, I can’t force myself to go any further. I’ve cried “Uncle!” and tossed the book into my holding box destined for resale at Half Price Books.

I wish I could justify my having been disappointed in this book by saying it is the first of the King Parrothead’s books I’ve read. It’s not! Four or five years ago I read Where Is Joe Merchant?. Early on, I became disillusioned with the pace of the novel and the lazy meanderings of Buffett’s storytelling style. I kept telling myself he would pick up the pace and get to the point soon. It didn’t happen. I slogged onward to the end, doggedly adhering to my personal standard of never giving up on a book I’d started.

A Salty Piece of Land landed on my http://www.goodreads.com/ ‘to-read” reading list at a time when I’m pressed for time in all areas of my life. Work, family obligations and an on fire need to write leaves me with little time for reading, a pleasure that I’ve enjoyed since I was a child. Thanks to Jimmy Buffett’s book, I’m no longer an official member of the Finish What You Start Book Club.

I feel so liberated!

AND MUSIC IS HER NAME - by Theresa Laws HFC Member

2008-01-27T21:55:00.001-06:00

AND MUSIC IS HER NAME
By
Theresa Laws
HFC Member

When last I blogged, the subject was the origin of ideas: “What if?” and “How come?”
My writing also has a sound track. My CD wallets hold Dvorak’s Symphony #9 and Kid Rock, Garth Brooks and Il Divo, but the bulk of the spaces are taken up with Rock and Roll. I admit it- that’s the music that makes me smile and gives me ideas. The lyrics, the tunes, even the delivery conjure up so many pictures in my mind, and as Rod Stewart says – “Every picture tells a story.”
Listening to music for me is all consuming. When I listen, I give it my full attention. I cannot work to music, clean house to music, or even write to music, but when I do write, I use the images and emotions I’ve felt to create my story.
I think it started with the Country Western videos. While it’s not my favorite genre of music, I will admit that I’m impressed with the stories. Rock videos tend to feature the bands, but the Country Western ones tell a good story and that got me thinking.
At first, I thought about the older rock songs, the ones satellite radio calls “Classic Vinyl”. I thought, “Wouldn’t it be neat to do music videos with those songs and tell those stories?” The more I thought of it, the more I listened, the more I built on those stories in my head. I shaped them, filled in back story, and plotted endings.
Of course, some songs are just songs. “In a Gada Da Vida” is just a tune, but “Bring Me To Life” by Evanescence, inspired me to write an entire novel. I heard the lyrics “Save me from the nothing I’ve become” and I had a story about righting a past wrong.
Another great lyric is from Pink Floyd’s “Sorrow”. “He’s chained forever to a world that departed. It’s not enough, it’s not enough.” I’m still working on another novel inspired by those words about a lost love.
And, here’s what I see when Alan Jackson sings “She’s Gone Country” - Pink, pointy toed boots. But now you play along with me on this one and help me out with my character. What kind of jeans do you see with those boots? Dark denim, creased and starched? Faded and frayed around the bottoms? Or…Daisy Dukes? Think carefully. It will define your character and steer the direction of your story. What fun.
I can’t play an instrument, and my singing makes animals restless, but I can picture a story to almost any song. I’m just glad there are musicians out there who send me their stories and feelings through their tunes.
Theresa

...Like a Bad Penny - by HFC Member, Gary Denton

2008-01-23T15:28:00.001-06:00

“See a penny, pick it up, and all the day you’ll have good luck.”

I left my clinic to get some lunch Monday afternoon. It was one of those unusually cool days here in Houston, and I had neglected to bring a jacket. I shoved my hands into the deep pockets on the front of my smock/scrubs and stepped into the spittle of rain. A flash of amber light caught my eye and I looked down to see a scared and battered penny on the ground. It only flashed the dim light back at me because the scratches across the face of it were deep enough to reveal thin coppery lines of clean metal. There was a sudden urge to pick it up and that old familiar rhyme echoed in my head. Instead, I shoved my hands deeper in my pockets and quickly ran to my car, but, as soon as I got inside and closed the door, I felt a pang of guilt and sadness.

The poor neglected penny lay on the smooth blacktop, and I could almost hear its shocked cry for attention:

“Hey! Here I am! You forgot to pick me up! Don’t you want to have good luck today? Well, okay then, but wouldn’t you like to be a penny richer? No? Why not? I mean, I have value, don’t I? Yeah, not as much as I used to, but hey, I still count! At least- I think I do. Uhm, then how about an engraving of our 16th president? Come on! Abe Lincoln! He still matters to you, right? Hey, aren’t you coming back?”

The truth is I didn’t pick up the penny because it was lying on a dirty parking lot, and certainly had seen its better days. With the gloomy weather, and my occupational exposure to people who are coughing and sneezing, I can’t take the chance of getting sick, especially from whatever germs were still clinging to that penny. And, as far as luck goes, I guess I stopped believing in luck a long time ago. After all, it was just a penny. If it had been a quarter, then sure, I would have picked it up. That at least had some practical use on the toll way.

I pulled out of the parking space, and as I passed the spot where it lay, I couldn’t help but glance in the general direction. I didn’t see it. Had someone else picked it up, or was the shine that made it stand out the first time, now gone in a puddle of dirty oil-streaked water?

So much has changed since I was a young boy, but I do remember stopping to pick up a penny as I came out of a grocery store with my mom. “See a penny, pick it up…” I began.
“And all the day you’ll have good luck!” she finished.

I kept the penny in a box where I squirled away other boyhood treasures: rocks, string, a broken guitar pick. I don’t know if that penny ever brought me luck, but I do know that, at the time, I was much more willing to believe in a simple rhyme, a simple truth, and a simpler way of living.

After lunch, I paid for my meal with a debit card, but then I saw a box of mints on the counter.

“How much for the mints?” I asked.
“Ten cents,” replied the cashier.
I searched my pockets. Nope, no change at all. So, I gave her a dollar and bought five mints. She gave me two quarters in change, and I left. On my way back to the car, in the parking lot, I dropped one of the quarters. I quickly turned to pick it up, saw its silver surface shining up at me, and then drew my hand back.

Maybe there is a new rhyme I don’t know about. Maybe a mother and her young son or daughter will leave the restaurant in a few minutes and he or she will look on the ground and say “Hey mom! See a quarter, pick it up…”

“Put that nasty thing down!” She’ll say. “Do you want to get sick?”

Gary Denton

Make 8 Great!

2008-01-06T01:16:00.001-06:00

8 as in 2008.

For me, 2007 seems in many ways to have just been a build-up to, or preview of, what 2008 will offer. I spent the last few days of 07 seriously ramping up for this year, getting into an ambitious, yet practical, mindset. No weight-loss or exercise goals. No "stop doing this" goals, or "start doing that" goals. I gave myself just one directive entering 2008:

Make this the Non-Stop Year. Make 8 Great!

No more wasting time. No more randomly surfing the net for hours at a time. No more turning on the TV just to "see what's on" (and then turning it off hours later.) No more avoiding the most agonizing projects. No more avoiding the projects I'm actually excited about. Just DOING something. Anything, so long as it's something that moves me forward either personally, spiritually, creatively, healthily, or whatever.

Seven days into the new year, I'm shocked at just how absolutely energized I still am. I've yet to allow myself to have an idle moment, and rather than the mind-numbing exhaustion I was expecting, I find it's just the opposite. Everything seems like a bright opportunity, even the things I normally dread on a daily basis.

I could bore you with more details (which I had, before highlighting it all and hitting the delete key), but already this year, I've accomplished more on all levels than I did the entire first two months of last year.

From an Humble Fiction Cafe perspective, the next big event on our horizon is the actual (self)publication of our "Split" anthology. It's taken a lot longer than any of us expected, but I think it's going to turn out a lot better than any of us expected, as well. My contribution was one of the stories, Spirit, as well as the cover and layout of the book. It's been exhausting, but incredibly rewarding. Kelli had the (in my opinion) far more arduous task of making our little book LOOK professional. Without her input and editing, this book would have looked a lot more amateurish. I've seen a good deal of sloppy, rushed, and dull self-published work, and I'm proud to say that on a technical level, "Split" is going to be pretty slick. All the members of Humble Fiction Cafe will be able to present this book to friends and family (and strangers) with confidence and pride.

While the professional merits of self-published work is debatable, the effect that having this tangible product in our writing group's hands cannot be underestimated. It makes this hobby REAL. Even though the book hasn't been produced (yet), I believe the effort that has gone into it has pushed all the members of Humble Fiction Cafe into a new level of belief that they aren't just playing around at writing, or spinning their wheels. Everyone has upped their game, and the results are already starting to show. 2007 has already seen several members win awards for their work, and others are finding success with their novels being accepted for inclusion in a series of books to be released starting in 2008. And success gets contagious.

There has been some debate about whether or not we should do a Big Project for 08, and while I was at first firmly in favor of a new end-of-year book collecting our efforts, I'm now thinking we don't need it anymore. "Split" showed us what we are capable of. It showed us the bare minimum of what we should expect of ourselves. Now's the time to take the training wheels off and WRITE that novel or screenplay or memoir we've been holding inside for our whole lives.

"Split" was a good warm-up. But that's all it is. I can't wait for the day in the (not-so-distant) future where we all look back on "Split" and groan at how comparatively bad our writing is compared to what we will be doing then.

So get off your butt! Get started on whatever it is you passionately want to do. The time is now!

Make 8 Great!

Setting the Tone

2008-01-01T10:54:00.002-06:00

The New Year’s holiday has always held special meaning for me. Steeped in tradition, in contemplation and hope, I’ve always held the belief that New Year’s Day sets the tone for the upcoming year. Gads, I may be in trouble this year. It’s still early, so certainly no need to despair, but I think I’d better eat lots of black-eyed peas and cabbage, you know the good luck foods that require immense creativity to make palatable.

Let me explain how my New Year’s Day began. My dog, yes, faithful companion and best friend of man, started out the New Year on the wrong note. A lovely dog by all means, an Australian Shepherd breed, he is the biggest extrovert of a dog you would ever hope to meet. He can’t bear to be alone for even a minute. When he is alone, he gets mad. And then he gets even by hiking his leg and marking his spot, usually on the nearest and most available house plant.

We learned early on that to correct this “situation” we shut the dog and his loving sister, the cat, in the laundry room together when we are about to leave the house. It has worked beautifully! The cat and dog have further bonded, and the dog, God bless his heart, hasn’t peed on anything in the laundry room. Of course, we don’t have any house plants in the laundry room either.

As you may already know, at midnight in Texas on New Year’s Eve, the loudest and brightest fireworks spew across the skies. I went outside to share in the excitement last night with my husband in tow. Oooh. Aaah. We marveled at the brightly lit sky. We wished our daughters a happy New Year, and then quickly returned back to the warmth inside. Last night was cold, even by New England standards.

Five minutes, tops. That’s how long we might have been outside at the maximum. And neither of us gave thought to locking the dog (and cat) in their chambers while we walked outside for just a minute. Big mistake. He showed us. Oh the agony of starting the year cleaning dog spray, aka urine, from the carpet. My husband is so mad at the dog; he hasn’t yet said a word to him! Let’s hope this isn’t a reflection of the year ahead.

All that being said, I still have a full day in front of me. And on a positive note (I do like to end on a positive note), I spent the first hour of my day writing. Let’s hope this IS a reflection of the year ahead!

Here’s wishing you a Happy New Year! May all your resolutions hold true, and may all your blank pages be filled with interesting muse, engaging stories, fascinating description, and proverbial good words!

Sheryl

nanowrimo cheat sheet

2007-12-12T05:45:00.001-06:00

I participated November, along with 900,000 others, in National Novel Writing Month, finishing with 50,255 words. Yay! I think the biggest problem for most participating writers is being able to just write and not make changes until the end. However, for me the challenge was the word count, because just getting the story line out of my head is my usual route for writing anything. If anyone read my rough drafts, including my grocery lists, I’m sure they would think it was written by my son… he’s three.
That pesky main reason for the NANOWRIMO was to accomplish writing 50,000 words in one month. This makes it difficult for me since my rough drafts usually include the lines, look this up and write description here. I wrote “THE END”, at around 45,000 (and that was really pushing it!) words. I had been writing at a pretty steady pace for most of the month — most days a little under 1700 words. I wasn’t going to give up, so I went back to the beginning and started editing. I managed to get that last 5,000 words in about 20 hours. Keep in mind it probably took 50 hours for 45,000 words. (These are rough estimates)
If, and that is a BIG if, I take the challenge next year, at least I have learned a couple of lesson when it comes to getting enough words: use lots of descriptions, and even if I don’t think it will stay in the story but it jumps in my head, write it down anyway. Or I can take all the creative advice I received from family and writing friends on how to get my word count up. Here’s a few just in case I, or anyone else, needs them for next year.

Write the character’s first and last name every time, or give your character 2 names – Bobbi Sue.
Do not use contractions.
Write passages like, She went to bed and slept, and slept, and slept, and…
Start a new story at the end of the story.
Start the sequel.
Write an epilogue or a prologue.
Have a character remember something that happened earlier in the story and cut and paste.
Have the character go to bed and dream every night. (Doesn’t matter what the dream is about.)

Have anymore word count stretching ideas?

Dorlana

Novels or not?

2007-11-27T11:25:00.000-06:00

November is almost over. Along with it NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month, comes to a close. Some people completed it, some did not. Some people completed their stories before reaching 50,000 words. I think that counts as success.

I participated in NaNo this year for the first time and broke several rules before I even got started. I was surprised to discover that memoirs are not considered novels, since the definition of a novel includes a specification for fiction, and therefore not eligible for verification at the end of the month. However, I was far more shocked to discover that most fiction writers on the forums at NaNo thought that writing a memoir would be easier than writing fiction and was therefore cheating.

My immediate reaction was, "Honey, you have obviously never tried writing a 50,000 word memoir about an emotionally intense period of your life."

I had thought that writing about my time in Iraq would be emotional, but fairly easy. After all, I was a civilian and not in actual combat. I was not prepared for hours spent in front of my computer with tears running down my face, for flashbacks that had me sitting there staring off into my own past, the return of nightmares and anxiety attacks that upset my husband, or the gut wrenching nausea. Most of all I wasn't prepared for how hard it would be to put the desolation, devastation, wonder, beauty and joy into words. I had most of it written down in my blog and just needed to copy it, right? Not even close.

There are two reasons I can think of to write a memoir such as mine. One is as a means of therapy which you may choose not to share. That can be written very matter of factly and held at a distance. The other is because you need to share your story. That one must suck the reader in and give him no choice but to see those events through your eyes and heart. You have to choose words and feel those things again. That one is physically draining and emotionally exhausting. At some points you just have to get up and walk away. Eventually, you just get the facts into the manuscript and promise to add feeling later.

So, I finished the first draft and used NaNo to do it. I didn't follow their rules, but I did it, and I feel accomplished. The attitude that life writing is easier than writing fiction (or visa versa) is akin to the attitude of non-writers who think that anyone can write. As a crotchety old man used to say, "Shut your mouth, kid. You look simple."

The Excusinator

2007-11-06T20:39:00.002-06:00

Something is gnawing at me. It’s November. The month of NaNoWriMo, and like last year, I’m not participating.

As a writer, it seems I have a history of holdups. I remember well at a very young age handwriting the start of stories in notebooks. I still have many of those story beginnings. And all the while I would think, if only I had a typewriter, then I could really write.

Then my parents gave me an old manual typewriter, one that actually used to belong to my grandparents. Man, that thing was old. Clack, clack, clack. I can still hear the keys as I typed away more unfinished new stories thinking, now if I just had an electric typewriter, one with a correction key, then I would have everything I needed to be a writer.

What do you suppose happened? You’ve probably guessed...I received an electric typewriter as a gift. Beautiful thing it was, it had a semi-word processor built in and you could type a limited amount of text into it, modify or correct the text, then push a button for it to type. And type it did. That machine was fast as the blazes, and yes, it had a correction key. I marveled at the invention as I wrote more stories, albeit unfinished, and thought, wouldn’t it be great to have a word processor, one that will store my stories so that I don’t have to re-type them with every change?

My first one was a DEC (Digital Equipment Corporation) model, and I bought it from the company I worked for. Now everything was in place for me to become a writer. The stories grew longer, even journal entries became word processed, and I was happy. Until I got to thinking how nice it would be to have the ability to do research, look up words, and other activities on a home computer, better known as a PC. Yes, I thought, if I had a PC, then I would be all set to write magnificent stories, even novels.

I’ve lost count of how many PC’s I’ve owned. I currently have two in my home, neither is more than 4 years old. Both have Word from Microsoft Office, both share a high-speed connection to the internet, both have plenty of memory and hard disk space. They are both technologically in the now, certainly sufficient for any writing career or hobby.

So what’s the holdup now you must be thinking? What’s left to need in order to write as I’ve so desired what feels like all my life? Well, this one’s a hard one and unfortunately can’t be bought at a store. It’s time. I’m thinking, time is what I need most now.

I realize at this point, I’m not just a procrastinator…I’m also an excusinator! Every time I turn around I have an excuse why I’m not able to succeed at writing and finishing all the wonderful stories that pop into my mind. While each one of these stumbling blocks has been real, they have also not been something that should delay my writing. In fact, many a great novel was written before the advent of computers, even before typewriters.

So what does all this mean? Other than I do wish great success for my colleagues participating in NaNoWriMo, I also know it’s time for me to quit waiting for everything to be perfect. I’m going to start that novel (again), but better yet, I’m going to finish it. Does this mean I’m jumping in to NaNoWriMo mid-month? No. If I thought I hadn’t the time to finish a novel in the whole month, how crazy would I be to think I could write it in a partial month? I’ll start with baby steps, setting some realistic and attainable goals, and write one chapter at a time.

Now to end on a very positive note, always before when I’ve created these obstacles in my mind, a solution has always presented itself. I can’t wait to see how I can find more time in my days to spend working on my writing.

Sheryl

The Unbearable Lightness of Tolerance

2007-10-30T12:35:00.001-06:00

We have a great group of people in the Humble Fiction Café. We come from many different walks, many different perspectives, and many different life experiences. Some of us are religiously affiliated, some of us are spiritually in tune, and some of us are citizens of the world. Well, actually we all are, but you get my point.

We appear to send out some interesting vibes while we sit in our little circle of chairs, sipping our coffee and talking about subjects like the edible possibilities of human digits (Thank you, Joy, for that one). It’s not for everybody- and some people are understandably not in tune with our eclectic group dynamic.

This kind of thing pops up from time to time. Someone will approach our little table, sit for a while, share introductions, and then either nod along and participate in the discussion, or excuse themselves and impulsively check to make sure their purse and/or wallet isn’t missing as they head for the door.
Yes, it’s true- sometimes they just don’t click with the assembled group and it can lead to occasional awkward moments.
But sometimes, we get an entirely different sort of interaction. Sometimes a visitor comes along and proffers advice or criticisms on subjects that have nothing to do with writing, editing, or the creation of fiction. .

The reason I decided to write about this interesting clash of personalities is because of a recent visitor who, during a discussion, told one of our members that she should not argue with her husband because that isn’t her role as a wife. This visitor made it very clear that she was of a specific religious belief system, and I believe her comment stemmed from either her strong personal convictions, or an overwhelming need to apply those convictions to anyone who happened to present an opposing viewpoint.

Now, maybe I’m totally off the beam here, but I’m sure we have all encountered similar situations and personalities. Anyway, that whole incident got me thinking about my own spiritual convictions and how committed I am to them, and how willing I am to share the particulars of my spiritual understandings with a stranger sitting next to me in a coffee shop. You know- just in case a situation like that presents itself.

Here is a brief synopsis:

I worked for several years as a facilitator in a men’s adiction recovery program. The program specifically dealt with sexual issues and abuse. As a member of this group, I had my own personal baggage to work with, but I also had the opportunity to help others with theirs. Some of the stories these men shared with me shocked me into an awareness of human depravity that no author, no matter how brutally imaginative, could have dared dream up. They linger with me to this day.
Aside from the violence and lawlessness of the stories and the common thread of abuse and neglect that we suffered, the one thing that held us together in those small often smoke- filled rooms was a voice, or an idea, or a God, which offered a way out.

Some of them got it, - some of them did not.
Some of them left the group because it was just too much to face; to hard to change, and they never came back, while still others did not return because their liberty to do so was taken from them by incarceration, illness, or even death.

I’ve never written about this chapter of my life and I think tonight may be the only time I ever put words on a page that come near to what I went through, but I want you to know that I did it all for a title. A contract is what we called it: a counter to all the other names, labels, and indictments spoken against us. It became our identity and was as closely related to us as our own name.
Here is mine:
I am a Strong, Courageous, Righteous Man.

I fought for that, and no one is going to take that from me either by might, principality, or law. But am I willing to sit next to someone I don’t know, and pass that story on to them? Uhh…well, I guess in a certain manner- I just did. But more to the point- am I going to let someone who doesn’t know me, hasn’t spent time with me, doesn’t know my life experience, sit next to me and judge me based on some casual conversation I’m having with my friends at a writer’s group?

To answer that, I can tell you that the most important thing I leaned during my time as a facilitator was not to judge someone based on casual understanding- be they convicted rapist, clergyman, or both.

Time, the elements, religion, relationships- they all leave their mark- and some go well past the bone. I know that each of us is heading down the same road to some type of eternity: either in the grave or somewhere else, and along that path, we pick up, and sometimes cause, many wounds.

So when someone comes to our meetings and professes faith, I welcome them. And when someone comes to our meetings and professes no particular faith, I welcome them. And when someone strolls by and makes an offhanded judgment against another person in our group, well- I quietly seethe and burn inside. Then I remember those rooms, and those men who fought valiantly for the right to be called something other than the names that society and their offenders placed on them, and I try to understand that all of us are wounded- even those who pass judgment.
And I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t one of them.

However, there are occasions when someone comes to our group, and we get to know them, and we talk about our fears and ideas and share our experiences and sometimes the façade we all wear gets pulled back and we see that these people are wounded, and we can almost feel their spirit leaking from them in torrents of pain, shame, and confusion.

And we welcome them.

Because we would be liars if we said we weren’t one of them.

Gary Denton

Writing's Not a Game...

2007-10-19T17:58:00.000-06:00

My name is Justin Denton, and this is my second blog.

If you missed last month’s episode, I’ll fill you in. I’m 14 years old, one of the two youngest members of the writer’s group (Darah is the second, she’s also 14), and I enjoy writing, and playing video games. And sports.

Currently, my latest fascination is a little game called “Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney”. It’s a game for the Nintendo DS and features a lawyer trying to find five defendants not guilty.

What I love most about the game is its storytelling. Being a lawyer simulation, you’ll know that there is no flying blood and the ‘Bzzzzt, tat-tat-tat-tat-tat’ of blazing machine guns. Both of which I prefer specifically from all of my games. No, Phoenix Wright is a simple puzzle-solving game that requires you to cross-examine weird witnesses to find the real killer. But the characters are so believable, even though they can be caught-up in otherworldly circumstances, and even then, they react the way you’d expect a real person to react, with hilarious dialogue.

But I’m not here to advertise; although I recommend the game if you have a DS. I wanted to take a leaf out of this wonderfully written book. The game is essentially a visual novel, and is full of dialogue and interior narration, which is what I’d like to emphasize.

The game doesn’t come at you strait with character descriptions like ‘She’s a girl. She wears this stuff, and this is how she acts and responds to most things.’ The game let’s you get to know the characters by experience. This makes me feel superior when I press or present something in court that makes the witness act strangely. This is essential for writing a good story, even a short one. Don’t interrupt the story with your irrelevant quibbling; let the reader think that quibbling in his/her head.

‘He twitched his fingers suspiciously.’

This ‘suspiciously’ isn’t needed. Just the very fact that this man’s fingers are twitching brings about suspicion in your reader. Outright telling them is more of an insult to their intelligence.

‘His fingers twitched.’

See? Well, you can’t really tell the difference with a line of text, but rest-assured, any story would read smoother with this style of writing.

I try to keep this advice as well when I’m writing something. What I’ve been working on recently is a short story (really more of a novella now…) about a defense attorney named Gordon Truth. You could probably tell by my last sentence that this story was inspired by Phoenix Wright, but don’t call it a fan-fiction. It has completely different characters with different personalities and an original story. Plus, the rather surreal court system from the game is not present here. I like realism in my realistic-fiction.

Anyway, the 3rd Phoenix Wright DS game is coming out very soon, and I want it SOOOOO BAD! I’ll be heading to Gamestop later in the month to pick it up. But keep in mind what I’ve said here. I literally think this could make-or-break a good story.

Just thought you ought to know, what with some of the modern literature I’ve been reading these days.

See you next month.
-Justin

WHERE DOES IT COME FROM?

2007-09-30T16:46:00.000-06:00

At a recent meeting of our writer's group the conversation turned toward a question.
"Where do your ideas come from?" My initial reaction was, "Gee, I wish I knew. My muse doesn't visit nearly often enough," but later I began to contemplate the question and mix it in with all I've read and heard and learned about writing over the years. I know the answer for me at least. Mom and Dad.

My mother lives in a perpetual state of "what if?" That sometimes upsets me because in her later years she has lots of time on her hands and focuses on minutiae. "What if the neighbor's tree falls on my fence?" "What if it rains when I need to go to Wal-Mart?" "What if no one likes the potato salad I'm taking to the church dinner?"
Nothing much has changed for her. She's always been a what-ifer. When I was a teenager it was "What if you fail algebra?" "What if you don't find a husband to take care of you?" and on and on. Some of that has certainly rubbed off on me, but I try to use it to my advantage. It is a remarkable tool for planning ahead, and for getting ideas for stories.

What if I'm stranded on a desert island? What if there really are aliens? What if all my friends turn into werewolves? I could go on, but I'm sure you get the point. "What if" can be a good place to start a story.

My Dad, on the other hand, was a "how come" man. Daddy was smart, but he lacked much formal education, so it surprised me one day when, after sitting quietly for a while with a bemused look on his face, he annouonced, "I've always wondered about the words 'how come'. Now I've figured it out. It means 'how did that come to be?'" And believe you me, Daddy was always asking me "how come?"
"How did it come to be that you failed algebra?" "How did it come to be that you were thirty minutes past your curfew last night?" See? Daddy asked the tough questions and I had to think fast and on my feet to come up with some kind of story. Now I use those questions to help me find something to write about.

How did it come to be that that man is homeless? How did it come to be than an innocent man is in prison? And when driving on a lonely highway and you see the glimmer of lights from a tiny farm house you wonder, how did it come to be that there is a house out there, and who are the people who live in it?

What if? How come? Those are two powerful story starters for me.

Thanks, Mom and Dad!

Theresa

Out there in the darkness

2007-09-19T16:16:00.000-06:00

I’ve read all sorts of quotes intended to inspire writers, but I keep coming back to one favorite:

“Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”

- E. L. Doctorow

This resounds with truth. I believe it absolutely. So why is it I often feel paralyzed, unable to write a word, until I have at least an inkling of where the story is going? Why do I feel such a driving need to know what’s lurking just beyond the illumination of my headlights?

My compulsion to know the whole story before I write any of it isn’t such a horrible thing when I’m writing short stories. These I can and often do work out in my head before putting pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard. But to write something longer, say, the mythical great American novel, I have to be willing to keep driving into the darkness, not knowing what what’s hiding out there. I have to, at some point, trust that I’ll keep putting one sentence after another and they will, somehow, turn into an intelligible whole. I have to take that leap of faith.

So far, I haven’t been able to do it. I’ve written some darned fine short stories, but nothing over several thousand words. At least, nothing complete. This past January, I belatedly took part in National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo, as it’s known to those masochists who have participated. The premise is simple: write a novel, a 50,000 word novel, in 30 days. At first glance it seems ridiculous. Who would want to do that? Who could do that? Amazingly, thousands and thousands of people both want to and can, including several people in this very writers group. Unfortunately, I’m not among them. My stab at NaNoWriMo ended somewhere near the middle of the month and near 30,000 words. And they weren’t bad words, in the quality sense. In fact, there were some pretty good chapters in there.

So why did I quit? It wasn’t the time commitment; I’d discovered early on that I could churn out the requisite 1,667 words a day without undo pain and suffering. Instead, it was the simple fact that I ran into the dark point beyond which my headlights couldn’t penetrate. I ran out of story, the story in my head that had been, if not fully formed, at least somewhat mapped out up to that point. And then I discovered I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t follow the NaNoWriMo premise of slapping words down no matter how crappy they may be and trusting that the story will create itself as you go along. It was too scary. I gave up.

Yes, I’m pretty irked at myself about that.

But I’m going to redeem myself. NaNoWriMo is coming up again in November, and this time I’m going to do it right. I’m going to do it during the right month, and I’m going to do it with the right attitude. It’s all about quantity, not quality, baby, and my inner editor can just take a flying leap. Which is exactly what I’ll be doing: taking a flying leap to that great unknown beyond the headlights. Scary or not, I’m ready to find out what’s out there. --Kelli

Inspiration and Fairy Tales

2007-09-03T08:51:00.000-06:00

If you are a writer and want to be encouraged and inspired, I recommend you join a writers group. I really believe that I have grown a great deal over this past year as a writer. Plus, it is good to know that I’m not the only crazy person out there who breathes writing and never tires of discussing it as much as I do.
I’m really happy to be a part of this group’s writing project. Everyone’s involvement and creativity is so impressive. If you have read the other post you know that our anthology, Split, is based on dichotomies/opposites. It’s interesting to see how the other writers use this little bit of inspiration, put their unique spin on it, and develop their stories. I am contributing three stories to the book. The first one is part of the trichotomy body/soul/spirit.
When I was first faced with the word body, I panicked. But I thought about what a body is without the soul and spirit...a dead body (duh). That’s how I began my thought process. Next, I asked myself—and anybody else who would listen—Why would someone want to dig up a dead body? Then, I thought it would be fun to see how many body parts I could squeeze into the short story. I believe I am at 27.
After I finished the first draft of body, I fumbled around with a couple more different story ideas, trashing one story altogether, until I settled on another opposite combination: hot and cold. The hot story is a continuation of Body and the cold story was inspired by the Russian fairy tale, Morozko.

Once upon a time...

I had an evil stepmother and three evil stepsisters...
Wait, O.K. that’s not me. My life’s not exactly a fairy tale, although I have been married to my handsome prince for 22 years, but most my writing life does revolve around them.
For as long as I can remember, I have enjoyed writing. But I never really sat down and tried to write a true story until I was in my early twenties. At that time, I began writing my first novel, STORMDROPS. Over the next ten years I worked infrequently on my book, and also wrote several short stories. I never finished the book to my satisfaction and have since put it down, but one of the short stories that I wrote during that time, PHONE CALLS AND DRAWFS, sparked nine more fairy tale inspired stories, fourteen poems, and a blog.

Okay, enough about me, let’s talk about my novel.
(I have this cartoon clipping somewhere)

My mom gave me the Steven King book, ON WRITING, for my 35th birthday. One of the things King suggests in his book is that writers should try to write a certain amount of words per day. I think he suggested 2,000 words, but I did like 1,000. And also to write about what you like to read.
I had my first draft/outline of my second novel, JACLYN’S GHOST, written in three months. After 3 ½ years, I have a complete novel that I’m really happy with and might have stopped with, if it wasn't for the Humble Fiction Cafe.

The group introduced me to NaNoWriMo – which basically has the same ideas as King. Last January I completed the 1st draft/outline of my third novel, Isabella’s Dark Night. I didn’t exactly follow their suggested rules, because I was already six chapters into it, but it did get me off my butt to finish it in a month. I haven't finished the editing, but it is there.
This November, I’m going to participate officially in the NaNoWriMo quest with several of the Humble Fiction Cafe members. I’ll be attempting to write my first fairy tale inspired novel. I'm really look forward to writing with the group.

Dorlana

A Lifetime Sentenced to Hard Labor

2007-08-26T11:18:00.000-06:00

Writing is hard work. Don’t let anybody tell you different. When we pick up a book, whether it is an old favorite or a new discovery, ideas and images flow from the words on the page to our minds so effortlessly. But I’ve learned something. They didn’t get on the page without effort.
Stephen King says writing is like telepathy; an image or idea born in one mind and transferred to another through words. Well, Stephen, that’s easy for you to say!
So, when did this life of hard literary labor start for me? And what really IS the beginning of my story? And, by the way, don’t use the word ‘really’ too much! See? It’s enough to make a writer crazy!
When I was a child, so young that I don’t remember I had three clowns as imaginary friends. Not so very unusual until the day I announced to my mother that all three had been shot. That was the end of the clowns and the beginning of my life-long fascination with stories that are, shall we say, not exactly mainstream.
My first attempt at writing anything was a puppet play, written, produced and directed by me in the second grade that had a decidedly “Twilight Zone” content. Since then, I’ve been writing.
I’ve had the good fortune to have three stage plays produced during my adult life and one of those has been published. Of course, someone would actually have to BUY it from the catalogue in order for me to receive royalties, but, hey, it’s out there anyway.
About a year ago I found this writer’s group. We are a diverse group of what I like to think of as very talented people. What a great thing this has been. My fellow laborers, um, I mean writers, have critiqued, encouraged, and generally pushed me forward in my efforts.
We are presently working on an anthology of collected short stories and poems called “Split”. The theme of the stories is dichotomies, or opposites. I have chosen War/Peace for mine.

Okay, now, I’ve let that little tid-bit sink in. War and Peace. Wow. What a huge subject. Isn’t that the truth? It is because of this, that I have come to learn that writing is such hard work! And to top all that off, I’ve written not one, not two, but four, yes count them FOUR stories for the book that deal with the subject and take characters from one story on to another, beginning with the Civil War and ending with our present War with Iraq.
The first of the quadriliogy has really been a huge challenge to me, and the editing, changing, re-writing has been very public with the group. They have had to suffer along with me as I struggled with what the story was really about, whose point of view it was and what details were nice, but, Theresa, you might not need this in order to tell the story.
What a great bunch of fellow writers. If they groaned about having to read yet another version of it, they did it quietly and amongst themselves. And, I have learned so much about writing and about myself as a writer, which brings me to another story that ties in with this. (I promise)

I grew up in Kansas, a farming state, and way back then a kid could get a driver’s license at the age of fourteen. The summer I was that age, I took driver’s ed classes. We had morning classroom study and one hour of driving in the afternoons. Each of the four students in the car got fifteen minutes to rip and tear around the dirt roads out in the country.
The classroom work was a snap, and I watched other people driving and it looked easy. But – the actual driving part was terrifying. Lucky for the townspeople there weren’t any freeways or even one-way streets in town, because my considerable lack of driving ability was unleashed on the unsuspecting population.
When the course was over, we were to receive our permits. Coach Gilman called each of us up to his desk. He had a long, sad face most of the time anyway, so I wasn’t particularly alarmed when he turned his big, droopy eyes my way. What followed next has stayed with me for the rest of my life.
“Theresa,” he said slowly. “You are a really bad driver.” My heart sank, not to mention how embarrassed I felt in front of the entire freshman class. “But, I’m giving you your permit anyway. Only,” and he stressed ‘only’, “because without it, you won’t be able to drive and the only way you’re going to get any better is to practice.”

See? I told you this little side story had relevance. Reading about writing is easy, reading a book someone else wrote is easy, but the actual process of writing a book is terrifying and difficult. The only way I can get better as a writer is with practice. It doesn’t come naturally for me and I dare say that it doesn’t come all that naturally for some of the greatest.
Because of joining this writer’s group and because we have decided to put together “Split” something magical has happened to me. I’ve become a real writer and with that a lifelong sentence to the hard labor of writing.

Theresa

The Garden by the Highway

2007-08-21T07:48:00.000-06:00

There is someone edging next door, sounding like he or she might be able to take off given a good long running start. This is what I thought I had with my dichotomy story for Split, originally planned to be faithful/unfaithful and written in plenty of time to make all the deadlines. Unfortunately, it never really took off the way I hoped it would, but led instead, by somewhat devious pathways, to my current one, which I began as a way to blow off steam from a series of jobs in tiny companies in a suburb not too far from where I live. Not unlike my neighborhood, that suburb has its share of wandering gardeners, restlessly edging the lawns and blowing away the detritus, speaking only amongst themselves, and, for the most part, invisible unless you are stuck behind one on the highway.

From this came the idea of an exclusive nursery that provided maintenance services and baubles that enhanced the appearance of the community – bugs bred for beauty and grace, not for the combat of pollination. Non-native bugs. Bred by non-native nurserymen in the made-over bedrooms of a house in unincorporated land, a reclaimed house on the edge of a freeway. A house once left to rot when the freeway was put through and then widened. This was the closest home for the fairies who came from the Underpasses, crept out from Underhill and decided to reclaim a bit of property for themselves on the edge of the freeway, not far from the entrance to the place they had abandoned, close enough to scavenge the produce that fell from the trucks that raced out from Underhill. Close enough to share those fruits with the insects tangled in the old house.

The deals of a corrupt neighborhood association allow the creatures in the house access to a neighborhood, which they slowly displace. The current working title is Welcome Infestation and the dichotomy could be natural/artificial or it could be native/invasive (think kudzu). The story has proved to be as difficult to manage as my drowned and rotten garden in this wet and humid summer. What should be an even mix of creation and revision is, instead, a touch of work followed by a spate of revision, then drowned in days of avoiding writing. I have no discipline. Rather, I have only the discipline of opposites—the desire to do laundry when I should be writing, the ability to focus on work only when I have brought my writing materials, writing as a way to avoid sleeping.

One of the best things to come from this writing group, for me, is the imposition of a discipline of completing projects, either because one is entering a new contest or working toward publication. This may have consisted of dragging me from being a writer in idea only, forcing me to shrug off the “hobby” status and to finish things. Then read them again. Then think about them and write them again. I may not ever be able to survive off the one pot of yet-to-set tomatoes that I’ve got in the backyard, nor will I ever get to serve up my mutant golf-ball carrots (drowned in June); however, I have a small side dish of story that will be served up this December. Might have sprouted from a half-rotten pith of fairy fruit just along the highway. Might have been nurtured through drought and flood. Might have survived the Lazies, which have eaten so many summer afternoons that they swell up like ticks and glow like honey jars on a windowsill.

Best wishes,
Chrissa

Drowning In Doubt

2007-08-15T22:53:00.000-06:00

Our current project, the anthology we call “Split”, has been a huge challenge for me. I still lag seriously behind in completion of my contribution, Henri’s Companion. I’ve struggled to find the time and inspiration to write based on the project’s dichotomy theme.

With several false starts, I found time running out. Putting a set of rigid parameters on my story setting and limiting the cast of characters, an idea for Henri’s Companion came out of left field… a very dark and disturbing left field. It surprised no one more than me. The response from my long-time, ever-faithful readers was basically positive as was the response from my HFC friends. Still, I was immediately paralyzed by doubt in the value of the story as I’d originally conceived it.

I’ve spent a month casting first in one direction, and then another, trying to salvage what I felt was an extremely thin story premise. I’ve wallowed in self-doubt, second-guessed myself and considered lopping off various body parts in wholesale frustration at failure to magically cure this little exercise of its mediocrity. I’m happy to announce I am done with trying to make Henri’s Companion any more or any less than what it was born to be.

Henri’s Companion will retain its basic storyline. I will firm up my details, submit it for final critiques and shove it out of the nest. I have other stories to birth.

‘Children, can you spell angst?’

Joy

Writers Group - A Good Thing?

2007-08-06T21:53:00.002-06:00

You bet! But there are people out there, writers I should say, that are not big proponents of participating in writers’ groups. Some say it will stifle your creativity and that you will be so busy critiquing and reading the work of your fellow group members that there won’t be time left to let your own creative juices flow.

Others say you will receive so much critique of your own work that you will be immobilized and afraid to write another word for fear of unkind comments. Some writers, they say, are forever looking for the “bad” in your work, perhaps even to elevate their own writings and musings.

Still others say it is impossible to find a group truly dedicated to writing, and that they are comprised of “wanna-be” writers that are not totally focused. That they won’t provide honest feedback, advice and suggestions that will be helpful simply because it is too part-time for each member.

And still there are other arguments.

But as many arguments as there are against writers’ groups, there are as many or more for writers’ groups. I’m here to say that writers' groups are wonderful!

I personally have participated in a number of groups...o.k., this is my third. But they have all been full of delightfully colorful characters and enriching conversations. Never, however, have I found such a diverse group of dedicated professionals as I have with the Humble Fiction Café.

Where to start...well, talent is a word that comes to mind. Members of our group have published articles, won contests, self-published books, held book-signings and some have written novels. One novel I read (unpublished as of now, but I believe just a matter of getting the book in front of the right person) is as good, and in many cases much better, than many of the books you will find available in any bookstore. We have inspired individuals in our group that can write a short story that makes you say “Wow!” Some are poetic and gifted at finding the exact right words to convey their message perfectly.

Through my experience with the Humble Fiction Café, there have been times I have felt overwhelmed with the talent in our group. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one in the group that can’t get the right words on paper to express what’s in my heart. That my words don’t convey the image in my mind. That I am completely inefficient and a blundering storyteller.

Then I go to a meeting and learn that I’m not the only one experiencing writer’s block. I’m not the only one feeling less talented. I’m not the only one having difficulty in finding the time to write. I go to a meeting and learn that this is all a common thread.

Sometimes I refer to my writers group as group therapy. It certainly feels like that at times, and it has helped me through numerous difficulties, if nothing more than to be around pleasant adults with a common interest sharing stories and tales over coffee and tea. What a fantastic thing writers group is. Not only do I get valuable feedback from outstanding writers that I truly respect and enjoy, but I also get to hear stories and share laughter with an interesting and great group of friends.

My mom has frequently told me I need to go through a 12-step program (long story, and not for here). She’s probably correct in that I would benefit from the meetings, the sharing, and from learning and applying the 12-steps. But I get a great deal from within my group. No, not the 12-steps. But with the belief in a higher power (I call mine God) and the support and encouragement of a terrific group, I am able to forge ahead, remain optimistic, and continually improve my skill at writing.

If nothing else, the Humble Fiction Café motivates, encourages, supports and shares. It is a wonderful writers’ group, and I am proud to be a member. I am sure that each and every one of us will remember with fondness the work poured into our eventually published first book, Split, and I look forward to many more group and individual successes.

My name is Sheryl, and I am a writer.

And me, I'm Bennett

2007-07-23T22:03:00.000-06:00

I don't really know about what I should write, I am afterall a pretty boring guy. I guess I could always start with the simple, such as my name, but you all probably know that already, and if in case you don't, fear not for I am bad with names. I'm a student of SFASU, which is why I disappeared once and will vanish once again while the Texas summer is just starting to mature.

As a writer, I would have to say that I've always had entertaining imagination, being that I would often write or play out stories. This is of course was when I was but a wee lad, running a yard high with my friends in the summer heat. I remember playing with various toys, mostly Legos for those were my favorite, and acting out long drawn out stories, which to me seemed nothing short of epics. Each on of these playtime stories had a unique history and a dramatic future, while I was only along for the ride. Slowly and in the most inconspicuous ways, the urge to write and live these stories I was always creating. It seemed like the ever impending future had taken precedent. I certainly could not worry about some silly hobby when the whole world was changing because of something so simple as numbers.

I believe it was in the 7th grade that I had renewed my interest in writing. The book In the Forest of the Night, was the spark that drove the engine. It was this book that made me want to become a writer, which is kind of sad since I did not enjoy the book much. A few years, during a long car ride, I would reread the book thinking the my distaste for it must have been caused by one simple facet I had previously missed. I was dissapointed.

Anyways, to rewind just a bit, I had purchased the book and one of out schools book fairs, the kind sponsored by Scholastics and are designed to encourage apathatic youths to read. During those times I was bored with the lackluster of everday. I was probably too much of a philosopher for my own understanding to comprehend. Everyday followed the same routine and I ached to do something new, some new stories to read and watch. It is hard to say but every where I turned it seemed to be the same dull story. And life during those days was nothing more than a story being read with a monotone voice I have come to adopt. The solution to break this cycle was simple, I must create these new stories that I so desired. And so, I came to write a few things during that time, though none of it was any good, and not just because I am critical of my work. Sure those writings had the heart but lacked structure. Sure they got the creative process moving but they also challenged my ability to become a true writer.

Over the years I would write a few small things, nothing serious, just some fun experiments. Which of course brings us up to speed with the current times. During the last semester of classes I took my first creative writing class. Even though I did get to meet a few nice people and overall enjoyed the class, it did very little to actually help my writing. I guess if I want to advance I will need to take more advance classes, that seems only reasonable. When it comes to "Split," I have the one story already submitted with the possibility of another, under which I just need to file a dichotomy. For the second, I would not hold my breath. I will probably keep editing my 'for sure' story up until the deadline makes an appearance.

Anyway, here I am finishing this at about 1:30 AM, give or take a few minutes, because I could not think of what to write.

Confidence Game

2007-07-09T20:28:00.000-06:00

This is an essay provided by one of our Humble Fiction Cafe writers, Gary Denton. The management takes little or no responsibility for Gary, or in the things he writes, says, or scribbles onto tiny bits of colored paper in the dark. Gary decided not to write an autobiographical entry, but instead hopes that you get to know him by reading his entries and his fiction stories in the upcomming HFC debut book "SPLIT." He also likes to write about himself in third person which he is doing ...right..now...

“Do you feel like you have enough confidence?” my wife asked in the waning hours of the afternoon as we lay on our two-person hammock.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” I replied. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t have enough, and sometimes I have too much, but it all evens out.”

“Do you ever think it comes across as arrogance, or self-righteousness?”

“Of course not,” I said looking down at her from a great height. “No one would ever say that about me, and by the way, you’re not fanning me fast enough with that palm frond. Could you speed it up a little?”

Well, no- I didn’t actually say that. If I had, then I wouldn’t be sitting here writing this. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t be sitting at all.
But, even more absurd than my possible list of smart-aleck replies is the question of why my wife has an issue with confidence in the first place.

Our fifteenth wedding anniversary is next week. That alone should convince her that she is an amazing woman. I did the math a few days ago- my mother was married twice and both relationships lasted just over ten years. My wife’s parents were married about ten years before they split up, and while both of them have remarried, they are still only twenty years into their second relationships. We’ve almost caught up to them, but this is our FIRST marriage. I’d say that gives us a good five year handicap so the next time any of our parents decide to dish out marital advice I’m going to ask to see their counselor’s license and a list of references.

Then there is the issue of being married to me for fifteen years, which is its own accomplishment. No matter what perspective I come from, my wife is an amazing woman.

She graduated from college, has two beautiful well behaved children, mentors women is substance abuse programs, and works outside the home. She is well respected in her church, she is considering going back to work on her masters degree, and, if I may say so- she’s a hot babe. I mean it.
Gorgeous.
So what reason does she have to lack confidence?

I stayed outside on the hammock by myself longer than I should have, and as I entered the house a little groggy from “resting my eyes” my wife was sitting on the couch combing our eight-year old daughter’s hair. The TV was on and I realized they were watching “Age of Love,” the new reality show where a group of young women compete against a group of “seasoned” older women for the affections of some dashing bachelor with a weird Kathleen Turner accent. I watched as the women competitors ran a grueling race that ended with them paddling a surfboard out to a yacht were their suitor stood waiting at the railing to give them a hand as they crawled aboard.

“There it is,” I thought. No wonder women like my wife lack confidence in themselves and their abilities. Reduced to cheep circus entertainment, these women deserve to be kicked in their silicone enhanced backsides. And while that statement doesn’t even make proper medical sense, I know that they are not totally to blame. Media is part of the problem, but it appears to me that many of the women I know lack confidence in themselves and their abilities. Those that do have confidence and some sense of pride are often thought of in very negative terms by their female peers. I can't fathom the depths of this paradox. For one- it is too complex an issue, and for another reason, I'm a guy and I'm easily distracted by...oh look- the glass face of my watch is reflecting the setting sun...ohhh....shiny.

Seriously, I do not pretend to have the ability to shift through the last century of cultural flotsam and jetsam to present to you the single defining moment of the female inferiority complex, but doggone it- this kind of television program can’t be helping. And then part of me takes a step back and wonders if I am the problem. If I think less of these women for making fools out of themselves, then am I contributing to the overall decline in feminine confidence? Am I?

Nah, never mind that, I am going to judge them. In two words-
How pathetic.
And that may come across as arrogant or self-righteous, but I’m okay with that. As I told my wife today after rattling off a list of the things she has accomplished that make me so very proud of her, maybe I have too much confidence because she has so little.

“But isn’t that co-dependant?” she asked.

Remind me to find the person who invented that phase. More backsides need a good kicking-surgically enhanced or not.

Justin's blog.

2007-07-01T16:05:00.000-06:00

My name is Justin Michael Denton.

From what I’ve seen, read, and heard this group is unique and one of the most diverse fellowships of writers I’ve ever seen. Remember the Inklings? You know; the group C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien helped create. Those two turned out to be the most accomplished writers of their time, and I can only hope some members of our group will have the same success.

I am 14 years old and going to high school next year. English was always my favorite subject because I could write in those classes. I remember every time the teacher would put my story on a projector and read it aloud for us; I was always so proud. Even though the other kids hated the teacher, I respected her opinion.

I am currently writing a book that I give to many friends at school one chapter at a time. I even have some quotes!

‘Man, this dude can WRITE’ – Chris Lopez, 8th grade.

‘It’s like a professional wrote it’ – Zach Crenshaw, 8th grade.

‘I can’t wait for the next chapter’ – C.D. (Carry), 7th grade.

What I’m working on is a twelve-book series (gasp!) about an underground society called Ka no Sekai, which is roughly Japanese for ‘World of Fire’. I’m really trying to make this first book fantastic to get an audience for the rest of the series.

Now, let me tell you how much of a joy it has been to be part of the writer’s group. I think every member adds some spice to the brew, and the outcome can only become more and more delicious.

At first I thought I was the only member under 18 until Darah showed up. I was SPECIAL. I was UNIQUE. I STILL AM. But now there are two of us 14 year-olds.
She killed it.

Ignoring my last comment, Darah and I have been working together on some projects for the dichotomy book. Or at least we were, until I got bored with everything and began making up stories on the fly. She can write some opposites of mine if she wants, but now I’ve just lost interest in the whole thing. Now she sits next to me and bullies me. I mean it. Make her stop.

Don’t get me wrong. The ‘Split’ thing is a good idea (although I’m not so keen on the rather simplistic title). I just can’t be put under the strain of a deadline that puts limitations on my work. It must be that ‘wild and free’ spirit I have. I’ve written a few things for the dichotomy, most of them I’m not so proud of, but they work, and that’s fine.

I used to get my ideas for stories from dreams. That was a mistake. On one side I can never manage to have dreams anymore. And the dreams I do have that are mildly interesting are too muddled.

I really have no idea how Ka no Sekai was created. It was an idea that was growing very slowly. So far, many people seem to like it, and that inspires me to finish it. The first book is about a not-so-regular boy named Jordan who has a past so mysterious even he can’t figure it out. He stumbles into a world-wide clan that houses people that have unlocked their inner abilities and gives them a place to live and study.

I am a fan of all sorts of writing (as long as it’s fiction), and so far I’ve seen our group produce inspirational writing, horror, poetry, speculative fiction, and almost anything else you might think of.

Alas, since I am on vacation in Ohio, this entry was a little late. Sorry if I made anyone in the group worry. But hopefully this is a worthwhile addition.

Thank you for reading.

No matter whether I win or lose, I'm always the Victor

2007-06-17T11:41:00.002-06:00

I have a tendency to get long-winded, so I’ll attempt to make this short (I failed). My name is Victor and I’m a writer. (Hi, Victor!) In reality what this means is that I’ve mastered the art of doing everything BUT writing, and have developed an amazing assortment of activities to do when I theoretically want to be writing. But I’m getting better. My output of actual writing is increasing, and the quality of it is (I hope) getting better.

Joining this writing group last September has been one the best decisions I’ve made. I’ve made more than a dozen new friends and I’m involved in a variety of fantastic new creative endeavors that I never would have imagined otherwise. I hope everyone else in our writing group enjoys it as much as I do, and if you’re not a member of a writing group, I highly encourage you to join one (unless you don’t like to write, that is…)

I’ve always been a creative person from my earliest memories. After devouring almost all of the Hardy Boys books as an eight or nine year-old, I started writing stories to amuse myself. My first ‘series’ was called “The Trail Boys”, and it was about me and my friends and the adventures we had riding the trails in the woods near our neighborhood. Sadly, that series never clicked with the general public and I abandoned it. Anyway, throughout my life since then, I’ve always had some sort of writing project going. I’ve entered a few writing contests in my school days, and won a couple. Winning something is always good for perpetuating a passion.

My creative energies ultimately followed the path of video production, and since 1987 I’ve been involved in this industry in some capacity. I’ve been a general operations person at a TV station, I’ve been the lead producer for a TV station’s 6pm and 10pm newscast (worst job I ever had), and over the past decade or so, I’ve been owner or co-owner of an independent video production company, first in Louisiana, and for the past three years here in Houston. A big part of this career has involved writing, and I’d venture to say that I’ve written maybe 300 commercials and a few dozen long-form videos. But as anyone that HAS to write stuff knows, this kind of writing sucks all the joy out of writing. So my ‘fun’ writing had to come from another source.

About fifteen years ago, I started writing my magnum opus Star Wars fan fiction epic. Well, not WRITING, but “working on”. I have about 300 pages of notes and histories and all the sorts of stuff you’d find for any sci-fi/fantasy epic. I never looked on it as a waste of time (which most fan fiction ultimately is, if the goal is to ever write something that might see the light of day outside of fan fiction circles) because I absolutely enjoyed every last minute of writing it and plotting and everything else. I learned a lot and to this day still think my story is a solid piece of work. I doubt I’ll ever get around to finishing it, but I still have the massive binder to remind me of what I’m capable of when I put my mind to something. But the main reason I kept on working on this story was that I didn’t have any other stories to tell. This all changed in 2005

My Star Wars epic (“Shattered Force”) met its untimely end as a result of a CGI movie called “Robots” that came out in 2005. You might have seen it. This movie was so cookie cutter, so by-the-books in terms of plotting, scripting and presentation, so uninspired, that it ANGERED me. Hard to explain exactly what it was, but a switch was flipped in me, and from that moment, I’ve had a completely different outlook on the sorts of things I was going to be spending my valuable creative energy on. Combined with modern technologies, such as (relatively) inexpensive production gear and new distribution methods, like youtube and NetFlix, I decided in that moment that I was going to pursue a filmmaking career. I began devouring any info on producing independent films, and writing screenplays. While I’ve written and produced hundreds of commercials over the years, it’s not quite the same as venturing into films. It’s two years later, and I’m STILL devouring information and trying to learn how best to approach producing a film. But the good news is that I’ve made significant progress.

I’ve directed and edited a few short films over the past couple of years and have the beginnings of at least a dozen screenplays, with the germs of ideas for a dozen more. The ideas keep flooding in and it’s the most exciting feeling. There are a couple of these projects that are actually looking like they might bear fruit and I’m really trying to kick that into high gear. One is a project with one of the Humble Fiction Café members, Gary. It’s a film project that will incorporate a strong Christian message into it, which makes it an even more attractive project for me.

But it was in the midst of this creative renaissance that the Humble Fiction Café started up at our Barnes and Noble in the summer of 2006. It was a tentative group at first, all of us very nice and supportive but afraid to give brutally honest feedback on each others’ writing. But we kept on meeting and getting more and more comfortable with each other and one meeting, I’m not sure when or by who now, exactly, the idea for our anthology book project, “Split”, was proposed. It’s gained more and more steam with each passing day until now it’s something that I think the majority of us are working on in some capacity just about every day (at least judging by the dozens of emails that circulate each day). It’s fascinating to see how we manage to creatively tie our stories together more and more. It’s becoming a very rich ‘world’ we’re creating for this anthology.

My entry into this anthology (well, the first of what I hope is three or four) is called, simply, “Spirit” and is a part of a ‘tri-chotomy’ consisting of Body, Soul, and Spirit. Dorlana had already started working on her “Body” story and had offered someone that opportunity to do the “Spirit” part of her and Darah’s (“Soul”) trio. An idea instantly came to mind and it just started flooding out. The basic idea for my story came from my wondering how the Holy Spirit (of Christianity fame) might view the soul He’s co-existing with. It quickly turned into an exploration of my own view of God and trying to reconcile all the different aspects of God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit, and the seeming contradictions.

For my own sake, writing this story has really helped me to solidify my own faith and to straighten out some inconsistencies in my own understanding. All of this is embedded within the story that, on the surface, is simply the sad final journey of what could be any Christian that has gotten caught up in something that has led them astray. The culprit in this story is drugs, but it could be anything; alcohol, pornography, a marital affair, criminal activity. "We all sin and fall short of the glory of God." How we do that is different from person to person. In the end, the most important distinction I wanted to make was between how WE view ourselves and the world around us (and in our mind what constitutes success or failure), and how God views those same things. I opted to tell a dark, bleak, horror story that from an earthly standpoint ends horribly, but from God’s standpoint, has a far different outcome. I enjoyed writing it, and I hope people get something out of reading it. One trivia note: They are buried deeply within the story, but there are numerous references to “Dante’s Inferno”, some more obvious than others. I used the story as a VERY rough template for the structure of “Spirit”.

I can’t express how excited I am about this project and about belonging to this fantastic group of writers who are all in the early stages of their writing careers. I can’t wait to see where this leads and to chart our growth as writers.

Victor

How I got here

2007-06-12T08:36:00.001-06:00

The reminder that just hit my mailbox says it's my turn to post to the blog. Oh dear. I suppose I should start with some background.

I've always had quite an active imagination. In grade school, back in the '70s, I started this game out on the playground that began with two of us pretending that the fallen tree was part of a wagon train. Within a week or so we had a complex story line and about thirty kids playing. Then the school got worried that we would get hurt and had our wagon hauled off.

Our next game, which lasted all year involved a bunch of small toys and a little city we created using the roots and hollows of another tree. I always played pretend. I guess that means I've always been a storyteller.

When I got into high school I learned about creative writing. I loved it. I read and wrote all the time. My teachers were encouraging. Then I grew up and life kind of pushed all that to the side. I joined the US Air Force and didn't have time for much of anything. After I got out my then husband didn't think I should waste my time on something as frivolous as writing, so I gave up on that dream. Notice he is my "ex" husband.

Then a few years ago something amazing happened. (How many tales of success start out that way?) I came home from overseas and a good friend told me I should read the Harry Potter books. I told her I had no interest in reading a "children's book" and laughed. She held out the first book -- there were three published at the time -- and told me to just read the first chapter. If I didn't like it I could bring it back to her the next day. The next morning at 8am I was knocking on her door begging for the second book.

After finishing all three, I was hungry for more. Someone told me about this weird thing called Harry Potter fanfiction. I looked it up. I read some. I said to myself, "This is very cool. You could do this." So, I did. After a couple of years doing that, someone in the fanfiction community said, "Hey, there's this publisher looking for some original fiction if any of you want to try your hand at it." I thought about it and cranked out a little story. They accepted it and a couple
months later accepted a more complex one from me.

With that I was hooked on getting paid to write out what my imagination produces. I had to take a break when I went to work overseas again, but now I'm back and trying hard.

Writing isn't easy for me. I come up with ideas all the time, but sitting down and putting them on paper is a lot of work and I have trouble remembering grammar rules. I'm proud of what I write, but have gotten pretty thick skinned after having stuff edited and critiqued for the past several years. I've learned that my first draft is never going to be as good as I think it will be and will change dramatically by the time I'm ready to submit it to a publisher. But, I love it!
I joined this writing group in the hopes that they would be able to help me discipline myself to writing. So far, so good.

I'm also finding that when I'm stuck on a story all I have to do is shout out and half a dozen people will pop up and offer ideas and alternatives.

I plan to participate in NaNoWriMo this year along with several other members of this group. I have an idea for a little werewolf story. It came out of a fanfic that I started but never finished. As I was writing it I realized that, with significant changes, it had enough potential to be a "real" novel. I can't wait to begin.

As for the Dichotomy Story, I'm writing Above/Below. I wasn't going to write one at all because I thought there wasn't enough time. (Remember that discipline problem I have?) When I got home from the group meeting I was hit by an idea and just had to give it a try. I was a little worried about it fitting in the book because it is set in the 13th Century. But the group thinks it's a good idea and has found ways to tie other stories into it.

Speaking of that story... I really should be finishing the first draft instead of posting.

Linda

A Post from the Mind of Darah....

2007-06-06T15:08:00.001-06:00

I. [Biography]

Okie Dokie..I suppose I should start by saying that my name is Darah Vann,that's Sarah with a "d","VAN" not "VAUGHN", I'm 14 and next year I'll be in the 9Th grade. I'm a straight "A" student [with the exception of that one 89 in 7Th grade math], and was the President of the White Oak Chapter of the National Junior Honor Society. Last school year [about two weeks ago] I was a victim of bullying from someone who used to be my best friend, but I won't go into the boring details. I also learned that I had spondyloarthritis [just a milder form of arthritis that originates at the spine and affects my knees, elbows, hip, and jaw joints] on top of all the emotional stress....it was great to have this writers group during that time, because it was a place of refuge where I was accepted and not treated like the 14-year-old I am...

-ANYWAYS- I spend most of my time online playing games [such as Tradewinds:Legends [TM]]or reading. My favorite books are The Celestine Prophecy, Fun house, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, The Wizard of Oz, and Hideaway. I'll listen to pretty much any kind of music, except country, and I get runs on artists/bands often, with my newest obsessions being Cheyenne Kimball and Lindsey Lohan... I don't watch much TV, but I do like Law and Order [the original stuff], America's Next Top Model, and cartoons on Nickelodeon..tehe. =^..^=

II.[ Dichotomies and What-not ]

At the moment, I'm trying to find something else to contribute to the dichotomy book. So far I have a short story ["paranoia" of the set "paranoia/trusting"] and a poem ["soul" of the TRIchotomy "body/soul/spirit"]. I think me and my mom [Dorlana Vann] are going to do "cool/uncool," which ought to be pretty...cool...Anywho, here's my poem "Soul," so you can see I'm not "all talk and no type"::

Into his soul I looked
Past the corridors of emptiness;
Down into the deepness
That no mortal dare look.

Stared straight into his eyes
So that I could really understand him.
And everything that happens within
Was obvious below his eyes.

A twisted life he held inside
He hoped no one would know
All the pain he never shows
But tucks away inside.

Though a smile on his face
There are tears he holds back
Sitting, waiting for the fact
That one day his fears he’ll have to face.

Where no mortal dare look-
Down into the deepness;
Past the corridors of emptiness-
I looked into his soul.

So yeah, unlike my mom's poems that are always structured, I just kind of made up my own [I think] where the end of the two inside lines rhyme and the ends of the outside lines are the same.... moving right along..

III.[ NaNoWriMo Plans? ]

Last year I wasn't part of our Writer's Group for the NaNoWriMo month, but this year I'm going to be, so here's what to expect for my story:

Three and a half billion years into the future, all of the continents are
again Pangaea, and are separated as the world's 4 strongest countries: Japan,
Russia, USA, and Brazil. Instead of the countries having their original names,
they are called by their element: fire, water/ice, darkness , and earth/jungle,
respectively.The inhabitants are less than human; they are mutated, and
classified as 4 different species pertaining to their country,
and 20 subspecies pertaining to their clan (5 in each
country.) They have many fighting contests as well as
being able to have "wars" for glory and gold, but not for land. Whenever
Japan breaks the rules and starts taking over Russia, their leader must
sacrifice himself to save his country. Instead of gold or glory, Japan is
shamed...The story begins when the main character, Aeribellah Pushkin, is
fighting in a contest to become the new leader.

-Darah

The making of a Create/Destroy dichotomy

2007-05-28T13:42:00.001-06:00

I’m not sure I believe there are things that are meant to be, but I do know that sometimes things just click. The book project we’re working on is one of those things. The concept of creating a book centered around dichotomies – opposites, divisions, contrasts, two parts of a whole – captured our group’s collective imagination, but each of us has taken off with the idea in our his or her unique way. Watching the book unfold is fascinating. Watching how all the different people in our group, people with diverse interests and writing styles, approach the concept and create their contributions is like getting a peek behind the curtain before the world premiere of a play. I’m seeing the secrets behind the scenes, and it’s a wonderful, mysterious world.

For me, writing my as-yet-unnamed contribution was another lesson in things that just click. I first chose the two opposite meanings of ravel (to weave or become entangled and to unweave or become disentangled) as the dichotomy I would write about. It seemed like such an interesting and, I admit, clever choice of dichotomies. But, as has happened to me many times in my life, being clever didn’t quite work out as planned. My (overly ambitious?) idea was to write two short stories, one illustrating one definition of ravel and one illustrating the other. I managed to write an adequate, but not great, story about a woman taking advantage of a very unusual opportunity to disentangle herself from an unhappy marriage. I was fairly happy, although not utterly thrilled, with this story. Then I stalled out. The second half of the dichotomy just wouldn’t come. And one half of a dichotomy, for this project, is about as useful as teats on a bull – to use an old Texas-ism.

In frustration, I went back to the drawing board. As I almost always do in times of need, I sought solace in my journal. I made sprawling lists of dichotomies, waiting for one to jump out and scream, “Me! Write about ME!” And, amazingly, one did. When I wrote down create/destroy, the idea for a story came to me in the same instant. Not just the germ of an idea, the outline of the entire story, from beginning to end, popped into my mind fully formed. Rarely does this happen, and I’m not so much a fool that I turn my back on a gift from the muse, so seconds later I pulled up a blank screen on my computer and started typing. Within two hours, I had a 3,400-word first draft of my still-unnamed contribution to our dichotomy book.

Sometimes things just click.

Following is an excerpt from the first, and very rough, draft of my create/destroy story. I hope you enjoy it. If it peaks your interest, join our e-mail list and you’ll receive updates as we post more works in progress and news of the book as the publishing date nears.

As always, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Thanks!

--Kelli

Excerpt from a short story on the dichotomy of Create and Destroy:

After opening the hatbox and discovering the notebooks, Joyce’s mother hesitated only a moment before picking up the first one. She glanced at the bedside clock. 3:30. It would be at least three hours before Joyce got home, so she was in no danger of being caught, and it was her motherly duty to find out what troubled her girl so much that she needed to write it down in all these notebooks. Her mind went back decades ago to the little journals Joyce had kept when she was in junior high and high school. It had been her duty to read those, too, and they’d helped her keep her daughter from making more than one stupid adolescent mistake. Like that Rodney. If it hadn’t been for her reading her daughter’s journals, who knows what would have happened there. But, instead, she was able to send Joyce away to a girl’s summer camp, and by the time she came back Rodney was with another poor girl and had forgotten all about Joyce. Joyce had thought she had a broken heart, of course, but it was all for the best.

She opened the first notebook in the stack, a red one, and began to read.

*****

The girl’s father was drunk again. That was like saying the sun had set again, and normally she’d give it about the same amount of notice. But this time it was different. This time, both she and her father had company. It was a potentially disastrous combination.

Oh, please, she thought, please don’t let them do anything embarrassing. But, of course, she knew that was exactly what would happen. Unless she could keep her father, his friend Fred and her friend Janice apart, something embarrassing was inevitable. If only her mother were home! Her mother was never home. Endless volunteer meetings, each of which was more important than her daughter, kept her away from home almost every evening.

“You girls are growing up fast,” Fred leered from her bedroom doorway, weaving slightly and reaching out a hand, the one not holding a glass half-full of scotch, to steady himself. Fred had been her father’s friend for as long as Joyce could remember, and she’d hated him for at least that long.

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” she said. Her friend Janice, sitting next to her on the bed where they’d been thumbing through a magazine, looked at her sideways, blushing and unsure what to do in the presence of a drunken man. Gee, Joyce thought, I guess she hasn’t had as much practice as I have. “Just ignore him,” she whispered to Janice under her breath. “Don’t worry, he’s harmless.” Janice giggled nervously at this blasphemy against an adult.

“Yes, filling out those sweaters real nice now,” Fred continued, taking an unstable step into the bedroom and sloshing scotch onto the gold-colored carpet. Janice giggled again and blushed crimson. Joyce gave Fred a dirty look. He really was harmless, but he said things he shouldn’t, and he tried to hug her too long. It was disgusting. Over his shoulder, she saw her father listing down the hall. Great. Two of them. Mom, where are you?

“Watcha doin’, buddy?” Joyce’s father asked, then took a sizeable gulp of his own glass of scotch.

“Just sayin’ hi to the girlies,” Fred replied. “You got a real fine-lookin’ daughter there, Fred.”

“Yeah, don’t I know it,” Joyce’s father said, then gave her a melodramatic drunk’s wink. “And her little friends spruce up the place, too, don’t they? ‘Specially when they wear those little plaid skirts!” With this, he elbowed his friend in the ribs conspiratorially and almost knocked him flat, which sent them both into guffaws of laughter until they were leaning on each others’ shoulders to hold themselves up. Joyce and Janice ducked their heads and looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes, wishing the ground would open up and swallow them.

Humble Fiction Cafe Members

2007-05-23T06:55:00.000-06:00

Darah Vann
Linda Lindsey
Justin Denton
Sunny Johnson
Sheryl Tuttle
Theresa Laws
Kelli Meyer
Bennett Durkam
Victor DiGiovanni
Gary Denton
Dorlana Vann
Joy N. Vyoral
Susan Miller
Chrissa Sandlin

Susan Miller's Bio

2007-05-23T06:17:00.000-06:00

The middle child of three, I was born and rasied by
wonderful parents in Columbus, Ohio.

After my dad died suddenly when I was 16, I found that
the volunteer work I was doing at a children's
hospital gave me the most comfort. This coupled with
the wish to be doing something definite for my sick
grandmother cemented my desire to become a nurse.
Over the years, this choice has deeply affected my
life. I have always said nursing has given much more
to me than I to it.

But even before then, I knew I wanted to write. I
think I was making up bedtime stories to tell my
little brother (now 6'3" tall, and a former magazine
writer/editor himself)when I was nine. A few years
later, I was typing a novel on my great aunt's old
manual. I got up to about 60 single-spaced impassioned
words before abandoning it to the new found pleasures
of the pre-teeny bopper years.

Not much writing over decades of my adult life, as I
followed my career military husband from base to base,
had children, and worked parat-time in every type of
nursing job imaginable - including being substitute
jail nurse in California!

After the children were grown up enough, I went back
to work full-time, and my writing outlets were
confined to the occasional educational offering or
newsletter.

But the desire never left me. And now, working only
sporatically, I have the luxury of time.

Like every other writer, putting words down on "paper"
is as natural a need as breathing.

My genre? Am I thinking today about my family, my
ancestors? Did something funny happen in my life? Is
there a memorable patient in the past begging me to
write her story?

And that's the beauty of it.

Susan Miller