Prince Ombra
Just a marvelous, marvelous book. Prince Ombra by Roderick MacLeish, a novel I read over twenty years ago, certainly stands the test of time.
What a wondrous story about Good vs. Evil, destiny vs. free will and in the end, a parable about overcoming self-doubt and passiveness.
If fantasy or classic YA literature floats your boat, Prince Ombra is the cat’s meow.
I, dear reader, have the first edition hardcover. I love my library. I cannot wait until my children suddenly realize their old playroom is a treasure trove of fiction goodness.
The Day the Wife Unit was not Amused
One day I came home and there was The Wife Unit, glaring at me. No one, and I mean no one, can out-glare Southern Girl Blonde.
Wrut wro.
“I found some of YOUR magazines under our son’s bed!” she said in an accusatory tone.
I wrack my brain. Did Thing One find some ancient porno mags, of which I did not even remember purchasing, in some forgotten box in the closet in the library?
She waves the offending magazines at me, most likely repressing an urge to smack with them:
Magazine #1: NRA’s American Rifleman
Magazine #2: FMG’s American Handgunner
At that moment, I was a satisfied, smug, proud father. Thing One, I knew, would turn into a great man, a caring, protective husband and father.
Thing One is not feeling well today. No writing this Friday, he’s going to want his Daddy. After he goes to bed, I’m reading a book.
No more blogging today either! You 7.3 readers, you come back tomorrow!
More Show, Less Talk
As pointed out, my older writing was somewhat talky in need of revision.
I loves loves loves me revision. What I don’t particularly enjoy is revising a 140k manuscript. A wonderful incentive to avoid that length when possible!
Here is Prelude in C revised. I did this during my small lunch break in between sips of tea and nibbling on food too spicy for my own good. It took me (fifteen?) minutes.
Prelude in C
The Gaterunner was reading a book in his right hand while holding his sword in the ready position in his left. At any moment, a Reader could burst through the door and interrupt his reading. If it was one thing that bothered the Gaterunner, it was rudeness. Hence the sharp metal pokey thing, poised, ready to take umbrage at a disruption.
The book he was currently reading was not the one he was looking for, of course, but it did have an oh-so-faint glimmer of… not exactly magic, more like a unique proto version of the stuff. It was enough to keep him reading. Sentience was hard to come by on this world, and he would take what he could get.
Next novel?
In 2006 I started a Young Adult Fantasy novel but stopped because my writing ability sucked. Now that I understand so much more about The Craft, I am tempted to pick it back up again.
Tell me what you think. Be gentle, I wrote it in my “Void Years”. I will admit, it is calling me. Be honest though: if you read this, would you keep reading? Or would you shake your head in amusement at The Hack Writer and his good intentions?
Edit: This is the original version. My 15ish minute revision can be found here.
Edit 2: I talk about my official next secret squirrel novel here.
Prelude in C
The Gaterunner was reading a book in his right hand while holding his sword in the ready position in his left.
This was a not comfortable way to read a book. Indeed, after awhile his arm felt like it was going to fall off, muscles screaming and sweat eventually breaking out over his body. If he was particularly tired his sword arm would start to shake, more of a small tremble really, but for a sword master any uncontrollable vibration was a glaring fault. It was a good way to do two things at once, and when the pain became too intense, he would simply switch hands.
Draft Two
I finished my readability pass. Only, it was more of a “cut the fat” pass thus pushing the entire effort into Draft Two territory. Having read the new draft from front to back, I am very pleased with the story. I hope other people like it, because I have two to three other Bunny Trouble books stacked behind it just waiting to be written. There is Bunny Magic, Killer Bunny and who could resist Universal Bunny?
Now I am waiting on The Wife Unit’s feedback. Once I have that, we’ll see if I just need to make proofreading changes or if I need to get out the knife again. Then the manuscript is off to my Beta Readers.
I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. Can I transcend a hobby, walk into a book store and see my book on the shelf?
I will try, I will try. God willing, I will try. If I fail at this endevor, well, my friends certainly get to enjoy free novels specifically tailored to their tastes. Now that is a great benifit to being a writer’s friend.
I would love to entertain you. It’s what I do.
so blogging that
heatherpa [12:50 PM]:
you and that book… going to accomplish nothing today I think
Tony [12:50 PM]:
What?
(blink blink)
heatherpa [12:50 PM]:
LoL
heatherpa [12:51 PM]:
must keep reading to find out what the evil murderer is all about
tease!
oppressive isolation
One of the best fantasy stories I had ever come across was not from a book. It was a video game.
Myst, in fact.
Myst was the very first fantasy experience that made me feel… alone. How could a video game capture or cause those feelings? You’re walking around, looking, looking and the isolation is oppressive, both visually, but more importantly, through the plot you have to pull up, bit-by-bit, puzzle-by-puzzle. It was magical and it was sinister. There were no monsters, there was a void. The crashing waves. The silence of non-talking. A library of books with more questions than answers.
I played Myst and vowed that I would capture the essence of that aloneness in a novel. Could I use oppressive isolation as conflict? Could I create a compelling protagonist that could grow out of the comforts of silence?
I am not talking about plot, mostly, I am referring to atmosphere and setting (no, not a “marooned on a island” story). I have a character in mind. Now all I need is a plot.
Sorry Dad
Let’s just chalk this one up to overwork. My father-in-law loves books. He has a fondness for the trashy military techno-thriller that I do not share (some MTTs are really good and some are bad), but our tastes are pretty similar and more importantly we actually discuss the books we are reading when we visit. How cool of a father-in-law is that?
Did not mean to leave you off the Beta List, Ed!
RAWHIDE!
Editing editing editing, get that editing going, editing editing editing, RAWHIDE!
Hey, you edit a 140k manuscript. Then look at a mistake and go “WTF?” and then realize “oh, I did that” followed by “need more scotch!”
In random news, two of my Beta readers are primed and ready to go. Soon my pretties, soon. Both are well-read in general lit and my genre. We’ve had literary disagreements before (not over my writing), but nothing that has come to blows. Yet.
I ked I ked! We share a love of books, and have been good friends for many years.
Now I just need to find two more critical readers and I am good to go. And I can start writing again! Yeeeessssssssssss!
Blood
Draft 2: 216 out of 345 pages down. I have cut 10,262 words since I started.
Editing. Is. Driving. Me. Crazy.
I have sworn off writing anything new until I am done with this revision pass which includes incorporating Grammatically Correct Wife Unit’s editing suggestions. Why?
If I did not, I would never finish. It is not a painful process, more like jogging in the loose sand at the beach. A labor of love, if you will.
Except blogging of course, because I love my 7.3 readers!
Brenda over the shark tank
I must have 10,000 6,000 words around a very interesting news reporter, Brenda Doe of KORI Seattle. Only, she is not vital to the plot. The story works without her, and it tightens considerably in my imagined edits.
Damn it all! I was liking Brenda. She lent a certain city sophistication to the country bumpkins. She was fun, nosy and fundamentally a good person. I thought she moved the plot along several places, but absent her efforts, the plot moves along without her.
Here I go. Sorry Brenda. I love you, but not as much as I love (spoiler deleted).
Edit: That was a 6,000 word CHOMP. I saved Brenda to my cuts.docx file. She would make a great chick-lit main character, if I knew anything about broadcast news reporting. Maybe I can stick her somewhere out of broadcast. With guns. And an attitude. Brenda Doe, ex-KORI Investigative Reporter… who, um… takes her ex-husbands guns in the divorce settlement… and… decides to keep them! Little does she know that hidden in the stock of one of the old civil war rifles is a…
Can guys actually write chick-lit crime mysteries?
Probably not.
Snip
Since finishing Bunny Trouble, I have cut 5,269 words! I am on page 166/360 of my readability pass, at exactly 149,000 words.
Literary nom nom nom nom…
Major edits to one of my key action scenes. It is less graphic, but strangely those edits made it darker, more edgy. Creepier, even.
Thwack!
Apparently, I don’t need a proofreader now. Seems The Wife Unit takes great umbrage at grammatical errors. Here’s how I know:
Hack Writer: The Big Green Writing Chair
Wife Unit: The Couch, reading my manuscript
Suddenly The Wife Unit bolts from the couch, rolls up chapters one and two and smacks me with it.
“It is”
(Thwack!)
“Latter”
(Thwack!)
“Not”
(Thwack!)
“Later”
(Thwack!)
“As in”
(Thwack!)
“The former or the latter!“
(Thwack! Thwack Thwack!)
True story.
Cats explained
The cat is a killing machine.
Wife saw a bobcat today. It looked like a very large domestic cat with spots, a nifty tail and a fuzzy face. We actually have a pixie bob as a house cat, so said lynx looked like a larger version of Tigger (said pixie bob).
Q: What’s the difference between a bobcat and a cougar?
A: The reclusive cougar thinks you’re tasty.
Seeing a bobcat is a special treat out here in the boonies. If you ever see a wild cougar, well, she’s just taunting you before ripping you to pieces after stalking you for several hours.
Thankfully, cougars are very reclusive. The next time one complains about the behavior of the common house cat, just remember: little fluffy is the descendant of a shark with fur.
This public service announcement has been brought to you by Anthony Pacheco, The Hack Writer. No need to thank me, that’s just the kind of guy I am.
Girl Power
Girl Power
Up goes the windmill
The most amazing thing
We have ever done
The blades cut their air
In clear ownership
Of the dream of all
Practical dreams
Now we have to dig
For the wire that goes
From the windmill
To the other power thingie
Where the house is
Dig, pipe, wire
Dig, pipe, wire
Now we hate dirt.
We get in the truck
We rent a machine
It digs the rest of the
Way in a single hour
“We’ll let that be a lesson to us!” she says.
I agree. My hands have blisters.
“What’s next?” I ask.
“The septic tank!”
“Nooooo!” I shouldn’t have asked.
“Power and Poop little girl, power and poop.”
She smiles. “If we can control those, we can control anything!”
Hardcore creativity is a learned process
Nicole reminded me that hardcore creativity is a learned process.
You can read endless musings and books on this concept, even so many forget this truism. The necessity of understanding the inner child that wonders, and putting this thinking to paper, is so vital it almost defies description.
Here’s how The Hack works on creativity following the rule of three:
Write everyday
Hang with Writers (virtually, in person, wherever)
Read
Write everyday
It is not just a habit. It increases my writing talent. I become better at writing because I frequently write. A part of that is the self-encouragement of creativity. Such a simple concept really. I’m a simple man.
Hang with Writers
When I was young…er I would read books and flip to the author bio. Many of the books I enjoyed went like this:
…blah blah blah, currently lives in New York…
…lives in upstate New York…
…resides in New Your with his family…
…New York…
…New York…
What gives? As I got older, I contributed that to laziness and elitism. That’s where the publishers and agents were, that’s where you had to be. While there is a small smidgen of truth to that, that assumption was grossly unfair. These authors congregated geographically like the thirsty to the well. Creative people are drawn to other creative people in a glorious feedback loop of critique, improvement and revision.
Their friends, lovers, associates, co-workers, etc., all lent to the creative process. They were learning, and it made them better writers by being in the writing environment. What a golden age that must have been! How exciting to live in that time!
Globalization of information, of course, killed this era, but that is a different story. Let’s consider, however, this imaginary NY exchange:
Writer #1: “Hey Frank, how is the new novel coming?”
Writer #2: “Bloody awful. Just can’t seem to push past this one plot point.”
“When’s the last time you sat down and banged away at it?”
“Last week.”
“Well fuck, Frank, how the hell is the book going to write itself?”
“I know, I know…”
“Let’s go. Let’s down a few martinis and get you laid.”
“Oh, twist my arm!”
Now tell me, is this exchange that imaginary? Frank is a creative person at his core, but Writer #1 (a true friend) is feeding his creativity and not just by being a supportive, but helping Frank in his quest to put to words something magical. Frank is not experiencing life–he is learning. He’s not going to magically forget how he pushed through to continue his writing.
The interwebs is a wonderful tool to connect with likeminded people. For the creative process, it is a spooky level of reinforced feedback approaching ecstasy.
Read
I’m a sucker for a good, creative story. Reading to improve The Craft, Can Not Be Denied. It’s not just a hobby now, it makes me a better author of fiction! How awesome is that?
Best Novel Ending Evah!
James Blish, Cities in Flight.
When I was a teen, I read that and it was like walking on stars.
Whew
The Wife Unit says she could not put down my manuscript today. This is a good sign. I was out of fingernail trim.
mah prosey prose prose
Finished post-outlining and deleted the fluff. CHOMP. Added a few bits at the end.
I am on page 23 out of 360 (1.5 line space is what I edit at) of my grammar check/readability pass. This consists of fixing glaring errors and tightening, turning my word smiting into my prose. At the end of this process is officially Draft 2.
Now I am at 149,997 words. The word count has nowhere to go except down.
I also printed chapters one and two for The Wife Unit to read tomorrow. She reads my blog, and informs me she does not necessarily agree with my open door sex policy. This is from the woman who said the Meyers vampire books did not have any steamy vamp sex scenes (pout). At least she said she would keep an open mind about it, and what more could a man want out of a wife?
Done for the evening. Beer now.
I can hear my mother now…
…”so if Ken jumped off a bridge, would you do it to?”
A Question of Ethics
The man knew he was a murderer. He objectively viewed his evilness on a scale between “drunken man killing his wife’s lover” and “psycho-torturer serial killer”. He was leaning firmly towards the latter. His road to Hell was paved with both good and bad intentions, and here he was, at the apex of his vileness.
Motivate this!
Q: What motivates your minor characters?
A: Not getting shot.
I got your minor character motivation, Baby. I got it covered.
Sorry Megan
No sooner than I started my post-draft outline then I found over 2000 words to cut. Many of the plot points to a minor character, Megan, had to go.
As a reader, I love novels with multiple plot points that explode from a single point and radiate outward, connecting infrequently if not at all until the last portion of the book where they intersect and fall back to a single point like some literary singularity.
As a writer, I try to uphold to that plot style while remaining as tight as I can to the main story. Megan’s story, while very interesting to me, seemed like I was enamored of Megan and was more interested in exploring just the person she was instead of providing her with a motivation that the reader could relate with and sympathize. Her story exploded outwards and kept on going, never to circle back. That was not good.
Deleting 2000 words from Megan did not hurt her one bit. In fact, she became more… mysterious. Why does it not bother her that her B&B is seemingly haunted? How is it possible that she is able to make these huge intuitive leaps to a conclusion, while the main character has to use logic and analysis to arrive at the same place? Why is the Catholic Priest so very interested in what she has to say?
Ah, the details and answers I leave for another time. They are interesting, but not as interesting as the rest of the story.
Draft Uno
First draft, finished.
I wrote the epilogue during my lunch break and am quite enamored with it. It is a heartfelt and a depressing bit of writing, true to the theme of my novel and ultimately a great tie-end to the next part of the story. I don’t coddle my readers, and at that point they shouldn’t be surprised if I take the darker path.
I started Bunny Trouble a little under six months ago, it took me twice as long to write it as my first novel, not too shabby for a 152,000 word manuscript. As my first draft, I am very pleased with the way it turned out.
My next steps:
**I am going to proofread Bunny Trouble for glaring grammatical errors.
**Then I give a copy to my wife and wait for feedback. Can it pass The Wife Unit?
Assuming she likes the book and doesn’t beat me over the head with own manuscript, I will then outline the book. It is one thing to have an outline in your head and write a novel, quite another to see if after the fact I can assemble a coherent outline. It is a trick I leaned and suits my writing style perfectly, a great way to expose logic issues and unnecessary plotting. Then I am off to:
**Tighten the book
**Expanding my feedback circle to five of my friends
**Find an editor
Those things don’t have to happen in that order. I’m a man who likes efficiency after all. Some tasks were designed to run in parallel.
Wow. What a fun and interesting journey this has been. What should I write next? The choices, it hurts!
Weeeeeeee!
