My Needle’s Down on Your Groove

As I travel through this world, I take note of interesting rules and laws of life I come across:

Baby animals are adorable.

Cats eat weird shit.

Emo sucks.

Sometimes, West is not the direction you think it is.

I enjoy Scotch and fine whiskey on the rocks (but no more than three rocks).

If a beer costs me less than $4, and it is not “Good beer is cheap” night, I will not like it.

Country music excites me about as much as the areas it comes from.

Then there are the simple observances that one comes across while compiling lists like this. Such as the fact that nobody looks good in those “skinny” jeans (or whatever they’re called – the 14 year old girl ones). Another interesting fact I’ve learned is that city life is not for everyone. In fact, city life is only for people who enjoy city life. And even then, it depends on the city.

Those of you who have not travelled much or do not live in cities might not quite get that (I’m not calling you stupid, you just haven’t experienced it). Each city has its own vibe: its own style of apartments, of streets, of people wandering through them. Its own styles of government, of enforcing the law, of resistance to that law. Its own styles of art, of culture, of food (BBQ is better in the South, you can only get Stuffies in RI, etc). Hell, even down to the way people style themselves and the way they dress (LA is the Silicone Capital of the US, Boston is full of shamrocks and Red Sox jerseys, Miami is all old people, etc). I think it’s possible for a person to become in tune with a city over time, but in reality, travel enough and you’ll find at least one that resonates with you. Maybe you only have to go an hour (by car) North, like I did. Maybe you have to fly cross country, like my girlfriend. Maybe you have to leave the country (like a variety of people I know). But there is a city, or a town, or a village out there that you will resonate with.

That’s what happiness is. It’s finding a place that fits your lifestyle, your wants, your moods. You feel like things fit just right, like you understand where you are. It’s an intrinsic thing. You may not even be able to define it or explain it, but you’ll feel it through and through. This probably isn’t only where homesickness can come from, but it plays a part. I’ve never felt home sick for the town I grew up in, but then, I wasn’t in tune with it. I know my frequency, and I know where I resonate.

Here, have a couple pictures of my town.

Boston Skyline

Over the Charles

Tom

A Notice to All New Writers

Don’t give up.

I could probably just stop right there, but I have a suspicion that if I do, I might be mocked for a one-line post (even if it is a poignant line).  So I guess a little dissertation is in order (but I’ll try to keep it short, since I need to wrap up the ZSN post that’s in the works).

When I first started doing stories, it was for a Fiction Writing Workshop in college. Since I had a grade riding on my writing, I was naturally predisposed to wanting to finish everything I started, and quickly. However, ever since, I haven’t really had much of a deadline in my mind. Yes, there are tons of writing contests with submission deadlines, but…so? Oversaturation is a problem there – if you miss one deadline, there’s always another. That’s one of the reasons I love Nano Wrimo so much: you have one month, and that’s that. If you want your winner goodies, you have one shot at them, and one goal to reach (an insane goal, but one I strive for nonetheless).

However, deadlines don’t mean jack if you don’t have a good story, right? After all, what’s the point of writing if you don’t have deep characters with meanginful relationships, sincerely instrospective moments, and a story that makes people sit up and say “wow”? Well..actually, the point of writing should, ultimately, be to write. Getting the story out is its own reward, and if you can’t see that, you probably shouldn’t be writing.

What the hell’s the point of a first draft, except to kind of suck? The beauty of first drafts is that if you have flat characters, or a story that takes too long to get to where it’s going (or not long enough, for that matter), or weird descriptions, or words that aren’t technically actual words, it doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t matter because it’s a damned first draft. I’m currently in the process of having my last Nano novel read, and it’s a bit of an eye-opener. The main character’s flatter than a limp pancake, the background explanations have holes large enough to drive a Optimus Prime through, and I’m pretty sure I wrote in a total nun stereotype. On the other hand, the story seems to be engaging, and the friends I’ve had read it all say they really like the supporting characters and the story itself.

First drafts, you see, are all about experimenting. Just get the story out there. Who cares how bare bones it is? Your characters are doing things, keep up with them. When the second draft comes around, clean it up a bit. Focus here and there, and make it better. Shrink the holes, pump some air into that pancake (is that even possible?), and then pat yourself on the back. No writer in his or her right mind would ever try to publish their first draft. That’s just insane! All first drafts suck, and that’s why revisions exist.

Don’t believe me? When Robert Louis Stevenson wrote The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, he did it in three days and handed it to his wife. She said, “You rather missed the point though, didn’t you?” So he took it, looked at it, threw it in the fire, and re-wrote.

Even better: the original script for Ghostbusters II was actually more along the line of Ghostbusters in Hell. Seriously.

Thank god for second drafts.

Tom

Kids With Guns

So you have your character, you have a force of nature for them to battle against. You’ve got quirks, tics, and a searing plot twist. So you begin to write. Right?

No. Hold on a second, there’s still one thing you need to keep in mind, lest your story accidentally sucks more than woman of the night during shore leave. What is it, precisely, that could sink this story of your’s? Dialogue.

Now, I hated dialogue for the longest time. I outright despised it, because I couldn’t just write prose. I always felt that was the weakest of my writing, and with good reason: for a long time, I never understood it. Maybe it was reading so much Dickens and Faulkner in high school, but I just could not wrap my mind around writing good dialogue. Then, one day, it clicked: write it like two people talking.

I realize that sounds blindingly obvious, but so does the principle behind Post-Its, and it took until 1968 for them to even be invented. The thing is, as blindingly obvious as the principle is, it can be tough to put into practice. After all, you spent thousands and thousands of words trying to weave beautiful scenes, making images dance in the reader’s mind while more or less adhering to proper grammar (because otherwise, it won’t make any damn sense). But speaking…speaking is a world of its own. There is exactly one group of people who will use proper English (I’m not talking dialects or Queen’s English vs American English, but let’s say American English for any nitpickers out there). That group? People who had to learn it as a second language.

See, when you actively learn a language – classroom, computer programs, etc – you’re learning the proper version of the language. Dialects are that language broken down and filtered through quick talking, nicknames, and acronyms (who says People for the Ethical Treatement of Animals? It’s PETA. Just to pull something out of the air)(“Those assfaces” is also an acceptable pronounciation of their name, but that’s neither here nor there). For instance, have you ever seen King of the Hill? Hank Hill is great for this…whenever his son Bobby screws up or weirds him out, Hank’s response is always the same:

“That boy ain’t right.”

Notice: that sentence should send your 8th grade English teacher into convulsions. Proper English would be more akin to “There is something wrong with my son’s mind.” But nobody speaks like that. That’s one of the big pitfalls of authors like Orson Scott Card, Dan Brown, and the Dan Brown knockoffs: nobody speaks the way people in those books speak. You don’t need to retain your notes from grammar class to know when something’s wrong, either. A reader will invariably pick up on it immediately, and it will bug them. They might not be able to quite put their finger on it, but each time it bothers them, they’ll be that much closer to putting the story down.

So how does a person write proper dialogue? A trick I use is to say it out loud. Again, sounds so obvious that I  should be smacked for even bothering to mention it, but the obvious can get missed sometimes. When you write something a character’s supposed to be saying, and you’re not sure, read it out loud. If it feels awkward, it’s wrong (keep dialects in mind, though…if you’re writing a Texan accent, and you’re from Boston, it’ll feel a little awkward anyway, so make an allowance). If you want to get some practice on figuring dialogue out, go to a bar, or a college campus, or the park, or anywhere you can find groups of people. Eavesdrop a little, and you’ll begin to pick up on major similarities and differences. Work those into your characters, and you’ll be on the right track.

Alternatively, just mimic William Shatner. If science fiction has taught me anything, you can’t go wrong with the Shat.

Tom

Transform

So it’s been well over a month since I last wrote here. I sort of just fell out of the habit, I guess. I apologize for that.

I’ve been invited to join a blog group thinger. Basically, someone updates, and the rest update within 24 hours of that first person. I will be having my own site shortly for that, but in the interim, I’m going to use this as my launching pad.

I’m still willing to do the haikus/ruminations thing as well, though. If you want me to, just comment and let me know. If enough people say yes, I’ll pick up where I left off (albeit it a month and a week later). For now, though, welcome to a slightly different Time With Tom!