Archive for March, 2009

A few thoughts on Amazon’s Kindle 2 and electronic media in general, and their impact on publishing writers.

Short version: I’m not hiding beneath my bed in panic (at least, not from the Kindle).

Here’s the deal as I see it. Yes, the Kindle 2 does appear to be the first electronic reader deserving of notice by writers. And that’s all it deserves, notice, like a possible penny on the sidewalk. Whether that penny turns out to be a quarter (wahoo!) or a dome of dried gum (lesshoo), it probably isn’t going to dictate my financial plans for the rest of the fiscal year. I don’t see any electronic platform acting the lethal meteor to good old-fashioned books, at least not in the foreseeable future. Kindle certainly ain’t it. The novel reading public has not transitioned to acceptance of electronic readers; to the contrary, such a transition is in its infant stage. It’ll take a while, and even as people acclimate and explore this new medium, they won’t abandon the old standard. That won’t happen until (or unless) proficiency with the new technology becomes comfort, and comfort becomes preference. We’re decades away from that, at least (I’ve seen this in my crystal ball, which is jet black, so you know it works).

Now, I’m not saying the Kindle won’t have an impact on the market. It will carve it’s own niche, just as audiobooks have. But that niche isn’t going to kill the established body of distribution for published fiction. It’ll just change the shape a bit. In fact, I suspect this is a good thing for all of us writers. Electronic reading will initially be adopted by techies more than lit junkies and recreational readers, so in some ways the Kindle will broaden most authors’ market exposure, not shift established readers from book to electronic format. Book people will be likely to buy our work in book format, so electronic media represents a chance to expand our audience. And a wider readership can only be good. If a few people do transition from book (comparatively profitable for writers) to electronic form (comparatively unprofitable for writers), it won’t break the bank. And the additional readership is likely to generate additional word of mouth, which is the great god at whose table we all wish to feed. Now, if too many readers switch transition to electronic format… Well, ain’t going to happen. I’ll cover that in a moment.

Before I move on from the Kindle to electronic readers and media in general, here’s my two cents on Kindle’s text-to-speech option. Having a machine read a story with all the performative skill of Stephen Hawking in the middle of an electromagnetic storm doesn’t count as infringing audio copyright. An audiobook is a performance, distinctive even from reading the text (and less pleasant, in my opinion). A linguistic annunciation of prose is more akin to a well-worn mathematical formula or proof—the answer may make sense, but nobody cares. I’m not certain it even counts as story. I’ve worked with a few students who are blind using the Jaws reading program and trust me, machines will never threaten storytellers with their oratory. Besides, if I buy a book there’s no copyright against my reading it out loud to a friend. Why should a machine doing so in a far inferior manner do so? For those who disagree with me, know that I agree with Neil Gaiman, which settles the argument. If you still wish to debate, do so with him here.

Okay, so why won’t electronic media’s narrative take over the world and save forests everywhere from paper production? Because electronic media, from web journalism to the Kindle, is about ease of access and convenience. We hear all the time how these things are coming to dominate our culture, and in many spheres this is true. But you know what? Some things just can’t be made into a sound bite. Some communicative genres don’t fit certain media well. Try memorizing a phone book as an oral tradition. It wouldn’t work unless you provided mnemonic devices so frequently as to reinvent the genre itself. (For other examples, written alphabets and media development such as papyrus and paper played a part in the separation of poetry from prose. For most of human history they were, by necessity, the same, because the rhyme and meter were needed to aid in memory of the narrative.)

Long narrative is not an especially accessible form, nor are the genre’s contained therein. By necessity, it demands prolonged dedication of time and sustained concentration to read. Generally speaking, such attributes are not dominant characteristics of cutting-edge electronic media consumers. Congruently, such readers are usually not traditional novel readers or purchasers. A book person isn’t likely to simply be a fan of long narrative; they’re likely to be a fan of books–old, familiar, tangible, feel-their-weight-and-substance-in-your-hands books. It is unlikely a computer can match this expectation, no matter how light, or readable, or simple to operate. The media’s strengths do not match the character of the narrative form, and I don’t think that dissonance is going away any time soon.

Also, as Kindle keeps racking up more available titles, writers and publishers in the technological know are most likely to have their work available in this format early. This will define Kindle’s early consumer base, and thus its primary readership and discourse community. Not all genres will thrive equally well on Kindle. As previously said, it will change the market by shaping it, bubbling off its own niche and accreting to the already established cluster that is modern publishing.

For these reasons, among others, I anticipate that most people, at least for the foreseeable future, when they go looking for a good long story are likely to seek out a book.

Someone asked about how to access the essays I’m posting. I guess all those dysfunctional email membership cells littering the site are confusing some people. Apparently.

Sorry about that, folks. The idea was good: you just put in your email address and the rest of the work is basically done for you in a message emailed to your account. Only the god of the internet (I imagine him to be a mixture of Loki and Pan, only wearing a tri-corner hat and with a top of the line pocket protector) refuses to spit out the membership messages as planned. So if you’re interested in joining the membership section of the site, here’s what you do:

Pray to this fickle being and ask him to give you a password.

OR…

1) Click “Login” on the navigation bar above OR go to the Home Page and at the bottom left of the page you’ll see a section called Why Join? Ignore the cell at the bottom and instead click the “register here” in gold.

2) Click “Register”

3) Put in your user name and email address.

4) You should receive instructions about where to go from there in the email account you gave.

By the way, I strongly suggest you indicate that you want your computer to remember you whenever you come to the site so you don’t have to log on every time. I’m afraid the passwords are automatically formulated and so they’re impossible to remember. Once you’re a member you’ll find that other areas of the site exist that you’ve never seen before (just like magic!). So far, the only one of these that’s up and going is the essay section (there’s some good stuff here, though). But as soon as my book releases I’ll start posting annotated chapters in another section. This should be interesting for anyone who wants particulars on how and why I wrote a real manuscript the way I did. I’ll have comments about where ideas originated, particulars on the drafting and revision process, as well as pointers about my own compositional choices and why I write the way I do. It should provide a more specific and intimate glimpse of my writing methodology than anything else, and some people have expressed interest in this. Again, look for it as soon as Green Dragon Codex releases on June 9th.

In the future, I’ll continue to post essays on writing and publishing (as long as people keep asking questions) as well as additional chapter annotations on GDC and future books.

Oh, for anyone who didn’t know, there is a writing sample from GDC available on the site for free. If you’re interested, just go to “Clint’s Work”>>”Green Dragon Codex”>>”Chapter 1″, or you can click here. It’ll give you an idea of what the book has in store.

Does that help everyone who’d like to join the site but has been confused by all the things I’ve put around here that don’t work? Yeah, um, ignore that stuff please. I’m still hoping that one day the Loki-Pan god of the web can be cajoled to stop hoarding those membership messages and make my life simpler.

L.T., and anyone else who may be interested, the first part of the point of view essay is now available. Sorry I didn’t finish, but the basics are there. It should be enough for an initial read. Next Saturday I’ll post the next installment. (Maybe the last, maybe the second of three. We’ll have to see.)

Whenever I update or add an essay, I’ll make a quick post here on the blog so you guys know. As always, if you have any questions or requests, please ask. Happy weekend, everyone.

A few days ago Scarlet Knight (now to be known as Carolyn, who is a very nice lady I met in person last week) asked this:

Okay, Clint I have a question for you, and you can answer it any time. You mentioned that you focus in on a writing area you want to improve on and then work on it until it is better. I am curious about the whole process you take with this. As a writer, I want to improve upon my writing and am wondering the best way to do this. Thanks! =)

This doesn’t seem to need an entire essay, so I’ll answer you here on this post, Carolyn (and who says that’s less rocking than Scarlet?).  So, my basic methodology for improving my writing.  Hmm.  I guess it would go something like this…

I just wrote the methodology I used to improve my writing skill and deleted it.  Really, I got to step seven and realized that what I’d written, while perhaps witty, wouldn’t do anyone reading this the least amount of good whatsoever.  So instead of telling you things I’ve tried, I will tell you what I eventually found worked for me and what I suggest others do.

1) Read.  It seems simple, but this is where you have to start.  You read not so much to acquire skill with language (though that’s vital too) but because reading trains your mind into the method of story and communication.  It also lets you into particular discourse communities.  What I mean by this is that different groups have different versions of language; a teenage daughter and her middle-aged father both speak English (or Dinka or whatever), but they don’t speak the same English.  Similarly, readers of traditional romance novels speak a different language (a symbolic system for communicating thought and concept) than readers of epic fantasy.  It is only by reading within a genre, contemporarily and classically, than we as writers can become fluent in the ideas, values, and shared meanings of our readers.  If you don’t read (and engage in other forms of story consumption), you never acquire the storyteller’s taste.  If you don’t read in the genre in which you’ll write, you do not understand your reader, so you can’t create a meaningful experience for her.  (This all stems from reader response literary theory, which isn’t all that complicated but I don’t have time to cover it here.  Just remember this: your reader will take your text and build their own version of the story.  If the pieces you give them are too alien or old hat, they cannot build a treasured final product.  You need to know your reader to give them narrative material they can build with.)

2) Write.  This seems as simple as #1, but it’s just as important.  To develop skill writing, you can’t spend all your time researching or reading books on technique and composition, or reading, or revising past works.  The fact is, every one of us has a lot of bad writing in us before we reach the well of good stuff.  The only way to get through the bad is to spew it out.  Writing lets you find your voice, which essentially means the style that most effectively communicates your perspective to others in a meaningful way.  You have to search to find this, and so any writing that communicates to others is helpful.  Write letters, and journal entries, and essays, and short stories, and poetry, and anything else you might conceivably show another person.  Any time you write something with the intent of being read, you develop your skill.  With that established, here are some sub-points about writing:

• 2a) Write the form you most want to write.  Mostly, this means novels, as far more writers aspire to be novelists than essayists of short story writers.  You’d be surprised, then, how many spend little or no time writing in the form they aspire to make their career in.  If you want to write novels, write novels and finish them.  Perfecting three chapters can’t make you a novel writer.  Writing one crappy novel, beginning to end, is far better.  Likewise, if you want to write short stories, write them.  Or essays, or poetry, or whatever.  Write what you want to publish, and devote as much time as possible to writing in this form.
• 2b) Write in other forms.  If you want to be a novelist, don’t avoid writing short stories.  Try poetry.  Write in a number of different forms, from 100,000 novels to 250 flash pieces to on-the-fly blog posts.  Write in a number of different rhetorical situations and you’ll learn that each demands something a little—or a lot—different.  This will hammer into you the consideration of your audience and awareness of writing for rhetorical effect. 
• 2c) Use short works to experiment.  Novels are huge investments of time, so I encourage people to try new tactics and compositional choices in short works, such as stories or essays.  Another benefit of this is that a short work can be composed according to Poe’s “Unity of Effect,” meaning everything in the entire piece is in unified service to a single overriding principle or theme.  Thus, if you wanted to explore the potential of short, choppy sentences of description delivered in bunches (as I did in my short story “Modern Woman”), that choice becomes the dominant technique of the whole piece.  This makes it really easy to explore the possibilities of any one compositional element.  By writing a number of short works specifically designed to develop techniques, you can focus greatly on each tool in the toolbox (King’s metaphor), improve it, and then adopt it into your ever-evolving skill, style, and voice.
• 2d) However you experiment with your voice and style, make sure you consciously develop the following techniques: writing across the point of view spectrum (especially in first and third person, present and past tense, with third person close as well as more distant, and with a narrator of some sort—not omniscient); writing with little or no exposition; writing exposition in a way that is enjoyable (much harder to do than most think); writing from the perspective of adults and children, and people of different genders, classes, nationalities, etc.; writing the same scene from multiple points of view; writing a plot in a single point of view where the character is aware of things happening “off screen” as it were; writing a story that cannot be told from a single point of view; write in every different genre you’ve read in and has interested you; write fiction and non-fiction; write primarily dialogue; write primarily word-for-word thought; write primarily action; write both what is going to happen stories (dramas) and why/how did this happen stories (mysteries); write alliteratively; write without using alliteration; write using dialect; write in different time periods; finally, write anything you’ve never written before if it seems different, interesting, or intimidating. 
• 2e) Finally, write in imitation when you are starting out.  If you read someone whose writing you adore, copy it.  Really, word for word if you like.  I liked to try to write as much like them as I could, from diction to theme.  For example, most formally educated creative writers have a Hemmingway/Carver story somewhere in their history (including me, though I’m not a model of advanced education).  I also have Austin and Dickens stories, and even one Joyce story.  What draws you to writers is their strengths, and imitating them will change you in these areas.  You’ll never write like they do—though you may end up writing just as well or better.  You’ll find that as time goes on, you’ll find less and less of other people’s writing so fresh and new that you want to imitate it.  This isn’t because the writers out there are losing their touch; it’s because you’re gaining your’s, and you’re not as easy to impress as you once were.  At this point, your own style will be mature enough that it isn’t affected by the gravity of the larger planets in the system of literature. 
• 2f) Most importantly, don’t ever be satisfied with your writing before you’ve agonized over it.  If you write without really caring about producing your best work, it doesn’t sharpen your skill.  This is the difference between most aspiring writers and those who are destined to make it: whether or not they waste time.  If you write five books, always straining for your very best, your fifth book will be vastly better than your first.  I promise.  If you write fifty books in satisfaction, the fiftieth will, for all intents and purposes, be the first book.  Demand that you improve your skills.

3) Learn at the theoretical level.  Whether you take classes at colleges and universities (where you must promise never to let anyone dictate to you what is or is not “good writing”) or read books on writing (this is how I learned), take the experience of others and learn from it.  Try to develop a keen understanding of writing, and language, and story, and the business of publishing.  All of these will one day evolve into active knowledge or the knowledge of practice, but understanding the theory and concept is helpful as well.  Don’t every take anything you hear as law.  The only writing rules (with a few exceptions) that are truly sacrosanct are the ones that work for you.  Thus drink deeply of the methodology you hear from others, but only adopt and internalize what you find works for you through experimentation and your own sense of objective.

4) Critique other writers.  While being critiqued is helpful, especially when you start out, training your critical eye is most important.  When you are in a critique group, learn to be honest and astute in your feedback without being overtly critical.  Learn to recognize the difference between what isn’t working and what isn’t your favored style or voice.  When you find something that isn’t working for you, demand that you figure out why.  Don’t take the position that certain things are just bad or good; think in terms of effect.  What compositional choice in the writing produced an undesirable result?

5) Join writing groups.  Associating with people with the same interests is important for reinforcement, encouragement, and networking.  Often these groups sponsor lectures and workshops that can be very helpful.  The more interconnected your approach to developing your writing skill (meaning the more ways you approach your evolution as a writer), the more likely you are to develop.

6) Don’t attach yourself too greatly to any one piece of writing.  Your objective should be to become a master writer and storyteller (even if we never reach this level, it must always be the ultimate goal), not to write the next great American novel.  Never, ever conceptualize your skill and identity in terms of a single work.  Your foremost goal should always be developing yourself and your skill, which will mean moving on from one project to the next.  Don’t devote ten years to perfecting one manuscript, because it won’t happen.  Write ten good manuscripts in ten years, and I promise you the tenth will be better than the first ever could have been, no matter how much work you put in.

7) Set your goals.  Decide what it is you want from your writing.  Then look at all the other options that this will cost you.  You want to publish and make money?  You’ve given up your right to total control of your creative endeavors.  Want to write a niche subject that fascinates you?  Understand that your chances of living off your writing, no matter its quality, is almost nil.  Whenever we truly make up our minds on something we discard other options.  Ours is a culture that values having many options, and likes to pretend that they all are equal.  You cannot do this if you want to truly develop as a writer.  You need to decide what it is you really want, accept that you’ll have to give up some things to get this, and then pursue it with all your vigor and ability. 

Lastly) Defy discouragement and complacency.  The only way we ever stop developing is to give up, either entirely or abandoning the rigor that refines us from a lesser ability to greater advancement.  The moment writing becomes easy, in any aspect, you can be certain you’ve stopped developing.  Don’t aspire to comfort; seek improvement.  Satisfaction in writing should always be “this is as good as I can do right now, so I’ll move on to a new challenge and new learning experience.”  In short, never lose the need to be and do better.   

I hope there’s something in here that helps, Carolyn—and anyone else reading this.  If you have questions or want clarification, please comment.  I can’t stress this enough: I believe almost every single person has the capacity to publish.  Writing skill is learned through work and dedication; it isn’t a matter of raw talent.  I know Stephen King disagrees with me.  Many others do as well.  But I am confident that through good old hard work, the people who read this can develop professional level writing skills.  That’s a promise.  I take comfort in this is because, in the long run, I control my own destiny.  The reason I’ll be successful is I can outwork my competition.  Any of you that can do the same will have success as well.  It’ll be nice to meet and share old stories from the top of the hill.  See you there.

We’re all dying.  That should not come as a revelation to anyone–if so, sorry to be your “disillusioner,” to use a Mullism.  (Mullism: n.  1. A word spawned by children’s fantasy author Brandon Mull; 2. A childish linguistic distortion that is by circumstance accepted when reason suggests it should not be; 3. The act of making up words and getting away with it (see phrase “Pulled a Shakespeare”); 4. Buying a house above a prison, realizing this may not be the very best residence, and then moving when you become a NYT best-seller OR Being or having the bearing of Brandon Mull.)  Harold Bloom has theorized that all our artistic endeavors are, at their root, an attempt to confront and deal with our own mortality.  Put more eloquently, “I can feel this body dying all around me!” (qtd. in Beagle, “The Last Unicorn”, Pg. one or the other). 

It’s either great fortune or a merciful kindness that we generally don’t feel ourselves dying (unlike unicorns turned into human princesses).  Barring terrible disease or a horrible accident, we’re able to keep the illusion that because I exist this moment I will certain exist in the next and all following as well.  Doing stuff helps us maintain this illusion.  It doesn’t matter much what stuff we do, as long as it’s distracting and keeps us busy.  Even TV can work (though it speeds up the pace of cerebral death).  In fact, there’s only one thing that makes our own continual passing away tangible: waiting.  Waiting is, by definition, a lack of distracting stuff in the present, and thus makes us aware of our slow degeneration.

This is perhaps the toughest thing about being a writer and seeking to publish.  Even a mediocre writer who’s serious about breaking into print will have to become a master waiter.  And the better you are at waiting, the more aware you become of your own decaying state.  To be blunt, if you want to be a writer, you’d better be okay with the idea that a lot of your life is going to be spent twiddling your thumbs while waiting for something you really want to happen (that probably won’t happen), during which time you’ll become painfully aware of how said life is ticking away with every single twiddle of your digits.    

I hate waiting.  (As does Inigo, right, ForeverTeal?) 

In my case, I am waiting to hear about a proposal I sent out nearly four months ago.  The publisher who is considering it lists a response time of six to eight weeks.  I’m now going on fifteen.  Exceeding a publisher’s response time is good.  It doesn’t take long to send a form rejection or quickly scribble, “This stinks, and we would greatly appreciate not being afflicted by your prose in the future.  We did not relish the dry heaves that accompanied our reading of this catastrophe.”  Not hearing back quickly (assuming they received your manuscript) means, at the least, you’ve earned respect and, likely, legitimate consideration by someone in the house.  The longer the wait, the more respect you’re probably accumulating.  All this is good.

The waiting itself is not good, unless you find dying nice and slow good.  I do not.  As I sit around twiddling my thumbs and fighting the urge to bite them off, I remind myself, “Yes, you’re waiting, and yes, you’re dying, and yes, you feel it…but it means they like your book!” 

If they like it enough to publish it, the waiting (and dying) will be worth it.  If not, my wait is over and I’ll submit it to new places, petitioning once more for the privilege of waiting.

Life bites.

Sorry for the morbid post.  You have to do these things occasionally as a professional author.  Contractual obligations, you understand.

Tomorrow, something constructive: an answer to Scarlet Knight’s question.

Life is odd.  (At least, my life is odd.)  Bad news from Sri Lanka yesterday, a wonderful surprise via Turkmenistan and through Chicago today.  Oh, yes, explanations.

First, on behalf of Upul, I’d like to thank everyone who expressed concerns.  As for the situation, it stands thusly: some emergency called him back to Sri Lanka and, as I can ascertain, his visa lapsed while he was out of the country.  Now, if a student visa lapses in country while the possessor is still enrolled in school, they get to finish their studies.  If they are out of the country, though, it appears they have to go through the entire application process again.  I think this irritating situation is less about fairness or unfairness than it is the standard bureaucratic morass government so diligently perpetuates.  That means things are just as messy, only there’s no single person to blame for everything for their jerkiness. 

What?  Yes, I did do something other than complain, I’ll have you know.  Wrote and sent Upul the letter of recommendation yesterday, actually.  He liked it enough to request that I sign a copy and give it to his girlfriend, which I will do in the next few days.  Hopefully, once he jumps through the hoops he’ll be back asking me about the metaphorical orientation of the American color pallet (cowardice is yellow, envy green, and so on).  So I hope that yesterday’s bad news will become good news preceded by a time of skin-itching but ultimately temporary frustration.

Now to the good news.  Today a lovely young lady, Shemshat, came into the Writing Center.  For those who know me, that alone constitutes good news.  (Meeting with too many guys puts me in a kind of funk.)  It just so happens that this young lady looked familiar in a subtle, doubt-your-senses kind of way.  Assuming I was making things up, I asked how I could help her and so on.  In the process I learned she is from Turkmenistan, which piqued my interest as in about three years of tutoring I could only remember one other Turkmen I’d taught.  A Turkwoman, actually.  I then told Shemshat about my former student (one of my favorites).  Shemshat asked that student’s name and, to my distress, I could only remember her last name.  When I said this name, Shemshat showed me an assignment with it in the heading.  Turns out, Shemshat is my favored student’s little sister come all the way to the US to study, where she bumped into me. 

Lachin (how could I have forgotten her name!) is now, apparently, happily married and living in Chicago.  I told Shemshat to tell her sister hi for me when possible, and to let her know she is still one of my favorite students ever.  Then I worked with Shemshat on her writing, and found her to be just as sweet and smart as her sister.  (How smart?  How many people do you know who speak four languages fluently?  I know one language, and spend most of my time trying not to mangle it.)

So a strange couple of days.  Helping a friend in Sri Lanka what little I can; meeting a student from Turkmenistan related to a former student I wished good luck and sent off back to Turkmenistan two years ago.  I’ll tell you, this world may be far larger than even I have the pretension to comprehend, but in spite of that it’s a pretty small place.  And there are good people all over it.  I’m privileged and fortunate to be able to meet a few of them.

I have officially received my first requested essay topic: point of view.  Great choice, L.T.!  You’ve heard me say that conflict is story.  Well, if I were to be a bit more particular I’d expand this to conflict communicated through POV is story.  I’m pretty sure I mentioned this at last week’s workshop, but story is not plot, but the way a particular POV character or narrator responds to the events of the plot.  I’ll outline this fully, as well as address perspective and tense issues and the strengths and weaknesses of each.  I may even touch on narrators, effective multi-POV usage, and why omniscient POV is the bane of story (almost always).  Give me a few days and I’ll have the essay posted (I’ll shoot for Saturday, but we’ll see).

As long as I’m doing this, I’ll welcome specific questions people may have about POV, if there are any.  If such come, I’ll be sure to address them directly in the essay.

*****

I apologize for the brief post today, but something came up that’s just more important.  His name is Upul, he is a nursing student from Sri Lanka, and some emergency has resulted in the loss of his Student Visa.  Upul was a student of mine the past two semesters at Salt Lake Community College (where I tutor students in one on one sessions), where he demonstrated an admirable work ethic and natural talent for figurative language and expressive detail in his writing.  And no, he isn’t a Tamil Tiger.  He was a pastry chef (award winning while in the United Arab Emirates); he wants to be a nurse here in the US, where, by the way, his girlfriend of several years still lives.  Maybe it’s just me, but because he is a very nice man willing to earn his way while he’s here (who didn’t marry his girlfriend for the right to “siphon off the system” when he very well could have), I have no problem with this.  In fact, I believe we would be a bit better off as a nation with Upul being here among us.  For some reason, Uncle Sam disagrees.

Today, Upul called me from Sri Lanka and told me his Student Visa had been revoked and he needed to reapply.  I am thus going to write him a letter of recommendation that, hopefully, will help him earn his way back into this country, which had become his home before we, for some reason, decided to kick him out.  There may be a very good, reasonable explanation for this.  There had better be a very good, reasonable explanation for this.  Either way, you may perceive that I am mad.

Very mad.

Very, very mad.    

To keep that from coloring the letter of recommendation, I’ve vented it here.  Sorry for the furious torrent.     

Okay, as promised, some basics on my SCBWI workshop on May 6th from 7:00-9:00 P.M. The SCBWI (Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators) holds a local group meeting on the first Wednesday of every month at the Downtown Library in Salt Lake City. Attendance is free for members and non-members alike. (On that note, if you write for children you really should join. The organization has different membership levels for published and unpublished writers, and it’s a great way to network and start traveling in serious writing circles. I believe they even have a mentoring program, where aspiring writers can be paired up with pros to work on their material. Not sure if they’re still doing that, but it’s worth checking. If you’re interested, go here.)

The workshop I’ll be presenting is on Conflict and the Narrative Mechanism. Basically, I cover why conflict IS story, and how different narrative elements (characterization, plot, POV, etc.) work together to form a complex, well-functioning machine. All too often, we storytellers conceptualize our work in partition; we sculpt our compositions element by isolated element. That’s like trying to build a car based solely on knowledge of how a piston works or the function of a spark plug. Specializing on a component can’t create a powerful machine; you have to understand the whole. Most writers, even published writers, don’t understand the whole narrative machine very well. Here are a few questions to help you determine if this workshop will be helpful:

1) What is story? I mean exactly that–what is story and why does it exist?

2) How does a story function? There is a specific blueprint to narrative, so what is it?

3) Why is story conflict–not narrative contains conflict, but narrative IS conflict?

If you know the answer to these questions then there’s no reason for you to come to my workshop (other than to experience my ebullient charm in person). If not, come. Really. Writing stories is, when you get down to the nuts and bolts, very simple. Not easy, but simple. In this two hour session, I can teach you the tools that comprise probably 80% of my own writing methodology. If you master the concepts of this workshop, you can write publishable stories. Period. Anyone looking for an undergraduate-level storytelling foundation will find this workshop useful–at least, I do my best to make sure this is so.

*****

If anyone tried to find Hasting’s on Saturday and discovered (as I did) that they’d moved the store on us, I’m so sorry about the mix up.  It truly wasn’t my fault, though.  Blame Google maps.  Or Hastings.  (Or Stanley’s no-good-dirty-rotten-pig-stealing-great-great-grandfather, if you’re a Sachar fan–and you should be.)  The store did not ask my opinion before deciding to move, darned ambitious retailer aspiring to impersonate a Barnes and Noble.  If they’d been satisfied with the hole-in-the-wall original location, I would not now be so put out. 

Despite the confusion, I think we made it (at least most of us).  L.T. Elliot, Scarlet Knight, my friend Sherry, and I enjoyed talking writing and critiquing each others’ work for a few hours after the workshop.  It was a very fun time.  As for the workshop, I think it went well.  Tried a group storytelling exercise or three, and we ended up with the following: a horror story about a demonic icon seeking to hide its own murderous sentience by misleading an investigation; a comedic satire about an arrogant writer who, rather than writing, acts like a total ass to “provide fodder for other ambitious writers who aspire to be like him”; and a paranormal romance about a woman torn between her spectral husband–confined to a particular window in a bed and breakfast–and a new suitor while she endures the matchmaking of her interfering aunt.  It was my first time working with Josi, which was great.  Walt wrote a book about a neighbor’s wife leaving him for a polygamist, which reminded me that I did, indeed, know Walt and it merely took that to remind me.  (So if I meet you some time and later can’t remember you, please understand that it’s because you haven’t written a book on polygamy, or cannibalism, or something else sufficiently jarring.  This is how I differentiate individuals, which may explain why I think there are only about fifty people in the world–though there are billions of models of these fifty people.  In fact, the only person who is a unique person and not a casting of a person is Neil Gaiman.)  

So to anyone who went to the workshop, I hope it was worth your time and effort.  As always, I love to hear from people about my teaching.  If you think the Spring Workshop was the most edifying experience of your life, please comment and tell me so.  Maybe comment twice, or three times.  If you found it vomit- or labor-inducingly painful, tell me that (though once is enough for comments of this variety).  Suggestions and requests for future workshops on similar topics are always welcome, as are follow up questions not answered Saturday.  So bring it on!            

Okay everyone who wants to get together after tomorrow’s workshop, I found an alternative to the B&N in Layton. (Actually, the event organizer, Natalie Pace, informed me of it. I’m simply taking the credit.) Turns out there’s a Hastings less than five miles from where the workshop is being held, and they have officially welcomed us into their cafe area. Should be much more convenient, so this is where we’ll meet. (Still, come up and see me after the workshop to get to know those who are going.)

Here are directions: leave Bella’s and turn right at W 2700 N. About a mile on this will hit US-89 where you’ll turn right. Follow that for a little less than four miles and you’ll see Hastings on the right. Here’s the address: 83 N. Narrisville Rd.

This little shindig is just for friends and writers here on the site, so I won’t be announcing this tomorrow. However, if any of you see old acquaintances or make good friends at the workshop that you’d like to invite, please do. (If you make a really good friend, though, I assume you’d prefer a little privacy.) Can’t wait to see you all there–and be ready for at least one exercise I’ve never tried before.

Sorry, more about the newly scheduled workshop I’ll be doing for the SCBWI next week. It’s my classic “conflict” presentation, which I know several of you have been waiting for.

Scarlet Knight, I’m not pretentious enough (despite my best efforts) to assume that I’ll ever understand even that one right woman.  But there are happy mysteries out there as well as unhappy, and I’m confident the “right one” will be an adventure of discovery that keeps me blissful and greatly improved as a person, despite my state of continual perplexity.  To be honest, I’m not certain I’d want someone I could ever figure out.  There’s a lot to say for the girl who will always be an exciting horizon.

Shoes are an entirely different matter.  Shoes are a fine example of just how alien you women really are.  Women, you see, live in a big, huge, sweeping world cluttered with relevant stuff; men live in an unadorned hallway as empty as we can keep it.  For guys, material things (meaning things that matter, not corporeal items) are extremely limited: things that fill our bellies, things that wear summer dresses and smell of exotic lotions (mostly these things turn out to be people, but just the dress and the odor can distract us), and things that might kill us.  Anything that doesn’t fall into these categories is, ultimately, irrelevant (and when our team loses, that counts as a mini death).  It’s a good thing we’re so simple, too.  Look at the men you know and how greatly they have life figured out.  Now imagine if we had more stuff to deal with.  Yeah, it’s a good thing we’ve got blinders on.

Women, on the other hand, live in this perpetual chaos where EVERYTHING matters: shoes, and this week’s hair color (as apposed to last week’s), and three week anniversaries, and the distinction between blue-green and green-blue (which I maintain are the same color, Bethany), and nice smells, and nasty smells, and little bits of hair that must be plucked or shaved or waxed or sculpted, and Pampered Chef (what is that?), and seasonal wardrobes, and pack etiquette when you head to the ladies’ room (it is physiologically impossible for a man to imagine this), and there’s no end!    I tell you, if we men lived in this world of excessive relevance we wouldn’t last long.  Something would distract us from one of those things that can make us dead, and we’d be hit by a train or step into an empty elevator shaft or something.

The writing connection?  Um, okay, give me a moment… Ladies, you know that blank look you see so often on men’s faces, whether husbands and boyfriends, or sons, or brothers, or just friends?  Yeah, that one you must get at least five times a day.  When the guy in your story displays this expression, be a little generous and don’t assume he’s a moron.  Just remember that he lives in a hallway where the term “accessories” just doesn’t have the same meaning–as do your male readers.

Tomorrow: More about the new SCBWI event on my schedule where I’ll be giving the same workshop I conducted at LTUE this year, for any who may have missed it.