Excerpt from "An Echo Remains"

I have not written a piece of flash this Friday as I'm slightly behind on my NaNoWriMo project. Anyways, I decided to post a quick scene from my NaNoWriMo project, "An Echo Remains" for your enjoyment (hopefully.)





The gray brick building sat in the middle of an old industrial park, surrounded by rusted barbed wire fencing. Old grain towers next to the rail yard loomed overhead, covered in graffiti up to the point where humans with spray paint could reach. Thom stepped out of Mark’s car and said. “Looks about like what I expected.”

“What do you mean?”

“For some reason I figured it would be in some abandoned industrial park with all kinds of rusted crap all over.”

Mark glanced over his shoulders at the grain towers. “You know they still use those right? Just because something’s been tagged a couple times and all the metal work isn’t freshly painted, doesn’t mean it’s abandoned.”

“I suppose.” Thom reached into the car and fetched his notebook and pen. “Shall we?”

Inside, the building was no less impressive. The oak-like laminated front desk showed its years in the fading of its color and many chips. Behind it, a woman sharply descending into her early 50s sat at a computer. She looked up from the screen and said, “You here to see Leonard?” Mark nodded. “Have a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Mark remained standing as the couple ripped leather chairs didn’t succeed in luring him in. The walls were painted a faded yellow and there were no framed gold records on the wall like he had imagined. A couple old newspapers sat on a small end-table. Him and Thom traded glances for a moment until Leonard emerged from the back.

“Hey guys.” said the large, balding man wearing a wrinkled polo shirt. “So I hear you’re looking to record your first record. Well, I think you’ve come to the right place.”

He motioned for them to follow him into the back. Mark and Thom hesitated for a moment before reluctantly . Lingering behind Leonard, Thom whispered into Mark’s ear, “I have a bad feeling we’re about to be taken into a basement, tortured, and never seen again.”

“You’ve been watching too many horror movies.”

“Still, this shit’s creepy. I don’t care how good they are. I couldn’t play well in this place. My anxiety is already spiked.”

They caught up to Leonard who stopped at their mixing board. It was slightly older looking than the other ones they saw that morning, but at least it didn’t look as dated as the waiting room. Through the glass, a moderately sized recording space was filled with guitars and amps for some band that must have been taking a break.

“So this is it. We’ve got this space, a big drum room with a twenty foot ceiling, and an isolation room. The acoustics we have here can’t be beat. Now, we may not have every bell and whistle that you may have seen downtown, but all our equipment is top notch, plus I’ve been doing this since the early 70s. And one thing I have learned in that time, is that having a good, experience engineer is the most important thing you can do to make sure your sound is solid.

“Our mastering engineer Teddy isn’t here either, but he’s been doing this with me for just as long, and he’s just as good. I know when you see our hourly prices are a bit steep, but me and Teddy, believe me, we’re worth it.”

He sat down on his chair at the console and clicked a couple buttons. “All I ask is that you listen to the last thing Teddy and I finished from a local metal band. Now, I know it’s not your style exactly, but I always want to show guys like you our latest stuff so you know just what we will typically do.”

The studio monitors came alive with the crunch of the heavily distorted guitars and pounding drums. But the sound was solid and full. After the opening bars of the song, the singer came screaming in with such ferocity that the hairs on Mark’s arm stood on end.

After the song finished, Leonard turned around and explained what they had done with that particular band to get their sound, the microphones they used, the signal processing they did to extract every bit of crunch that they could out of their guitars.

“So now what can I do for you guys?” said Leonard, before answering his own question. “I’ve got a selection of high quality microphones that goes back since I started this business that can give you just about every imaginable sound you want. And if you don’t like what your amps or even guitars are doing, I’ve got my own equipment that, again can allow us to do whatever you want. Do you have any questions?”

Mark scooted forward in his chair. “I’m going to state the obvious here. Your location and waiting room don’t exactly inspire a lot of confidence in me that you guys are very successful. So why should we put this much trust in you?”

“Wow, you’re direct. To answer that, Studios that pander to your creature comforts over sound quality disgust me. I’m all about sound here, not fancy leather couches and cappuccino machines.”

Thom asked a couple more questions about the amps and microphones he had, plus some of the processing effects. Mark got a list of references and a couple high-profile bands that he had worked with and they left after about an hour.

Back in the car, Mark threw his head back on the headrest and said, “So, what do you think?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t know if I’d be comfortable there, and their rates, holy shit. I don’t drink it, but for that price I would want access to a fucking cappuccino machine.”

Keep the Creativity Flowing

Some quick and (as always) free advice while you’re out editing your WIP. Make sure you make time to write something new.

This is crucial for any writer, but especially a novelist. As I’ve found, you can spend many months on the editing process; and if I find myself ignoring my advice, my edits start to get dull. Why is this? I’m not writing.

Writing something new keeps those creative juices flowing. It’s almost like creativity is a muscle. If you exercise and train it a lot, it will get stronger. But as soon as you neglect it, take it out of training, it will start to regress. The cure for that is to make sure you have a project you can work on while you are editing.

If you’re a novelist, then have another novel that you are working on. Before you sit down with your red pen, take 20, 30 min or so and just type away. You will find that not only will you have another novel done pretty quickly, but you will also be all warmed up for your edits! It’s a win win.

So, I need to make sure I keep heeding my own advice, and hopefully it will work for you as well.

Tell me, what experiences do you have with writing while you are mired in stacks of edits? Does it seem to help you?

I'm Putting my Foot Down

I’ve been very busy lately polishing my current WIP novel, Bleed Well. I think I’m on about the 7th revision right now, and I’ve come to the realization that I will never ever be completely happy with it. I think that I need to put my foot down and say I’m done.

As writers, we have to know that we will never be perfect, and chasing perfection will just take you further and further away from your audience. To grow and become better, we don’t need to constantly go back and forth as to whether or not to keep that adverb or that line of dialogue. We need to get it to a point where we can live with it, and then let it sink or swim on its own merits.

A short story I recently read, “In the Reign of Harad IV” by Steven Millhauser in the April 10, 2006 issue of the New Yorker. It’s about an artist that strives for perfection, and while eventually he reaches a point where he is satisfied with himself, he has lost his audience, respect, and any type of productive career. Basically chasing perfection is a fool’s errand.

So in that spirit I encourage all of you to put down that red pen and evaluate your work, not on if it’s perfect, but on if you think you have reached a level of professionalism that would leave you satisfied.

Friday Flash: “Empathy”

This is something that I was able to write and put a little editing into. As a side note I’ve realized two things: First, that while in person I’m a very happy-go-lucky guy. I smile a lot, I whistle tunes I made up as I walk through stores, I have conversations with complete strangers. But put me in front of a computer keyboard and I morph into this dark and twisted writer…very strange. Perhaps there is a side of my trying to claw its way out. Second, I need to put pictures on this blog so I did. Anyways, enjoy.

The coffee table was covered in old mail: advertisements, credit applications, and bills hid the wooden veneer surface. Plates littered with old food sat on top of the papers, and fruit flies were making themselves at home. On the corner of the table was an empty ashtray.

Behind the table was a couch where she sat next to him. He was crying again. It seemed like he was always crying.

“Is there anything that I can get you? How about a glass of juice?” He shook his head. She shrugged her shoulders and turned back towards the television where she flipped through the channels. There was really nothing much to watch on a Saturday afternoon.

“I know you were close to her, but come on, you’re gonna to have to get over it at some point. It’s been what, three months?” He shook his head and buried it under the blankets. “Jesus Christ, look outside. It’s beautiful and we’re stuck in here watching…a home re-modeling show. We don’t even own our own place.”

He poked his head out and stared into her eyes. His face was red and the skin around his eyes were puffy and swollen. “You don’t get it do you?”

She leaned over and gave him a hug. “I’m sorry, but you’re right. I just don’t get why this is so hard for you. But I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

“I need you to understand, and I don’t think you do.”

She watched as his breathing turned staccato; his was heaving up and down with each dis-jointed breath. “Ok, take deep breaths. I’m here for you.” She pulled him in tighter. “Take deep breaths.” She could feel him trying to fill his lungs with short, shallow, breaths; but every time he tried, his diaphragm shot up and blasted the air out of his chest, creating a void inside.

“Come on. Big deep breath, ready?” She breathed in slowly, exaggerating the sound of air passing through her lips. He followed her and he began to stabilize.

“There you go. See, doesn’t that feel better.” He nodded his head. “Do you want anything? Perhaps some juice.” He shook his head from side to side.

A week later she was returning home from work; the door to the bathroom was closed and the light on. She put her bag on the table, plopped down on the couch, and turned on the TV, dropping the day’s mail on the coffee table. That’s when she noticed the note.

Honey,

I love you, but I’ve decided to end it…

She took off towards the bathroom and flung open the door. He was lying on the floor in a pool of blood.

Later that year she gathered the strength to read the rest of the note:

…You wanted to help me so badly. You said you would do whatever I wanted you to do. But what I wanted you to do was to understand. I wanted you to say, “Yes, cry. You deserve to cry. Let it all out.” Instead all you seemed able to do was get me juice. I love you, I just wish you could have given me more empathy.

Friday Flash: “Broken Record” Revised

There really wasn’t that much I found here that I really wanted to edit which is pretty odd for me. There were a couple word choices here and there and fixing up of some grammatical things. I probably wouldn’t have bothered even posting this since it’s so much like the original but I promised it last week, so I aim to deliver. Enjoy

Mandy stared at the crack running down the compact disk that sat on her dresser. What does this mean? She looked at her face in the smudged, silver, surface of the disk. Is this how he sees me? She turned it over and ran her fingers across the screen-printed label. It was an album of love standards by her and Jake’s favorite artist.

It was just a week ago that Jake had given this to her on their one year anniversary. It was an event significant not only on the calendar but also marked the occasion of her longest relationship. He gave it to her early that magical evening, and they listened to it on their drive to and from the restaurant. That night she went to bed, looking out of her window at the stars, thanking them for her luck.

Her fingers became rigid as they dropped the disk back onto the dresser. She sat on her bed, staring at it; her body was too stiff to do anything else. What will Jake think? He’ll think I did it on purpose. She looked at her nightstand where her phone lay next to an empty box of tissues. They had talked for two hours last night. What does this mean?

She strained her arm towards her phone then pulled it back. No, I’m not going to talk to him. Not now. I can’t. She again reached out towards the phone. I need to tell him. He deserves to know.

“Hello Jake…Yes I know, I’m sorry about last night too…Well that’s sweet of you.” She smiled as he apologized to her. She didn’t remember what they fought about. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you like that.”

Mandy turned her attention back towards her dresser, and again, her body became rigid. What will he think if he ever finds out? She walked over to the dresser and picked the disk back up, looking at her reflection. The crack split her face down the middle with the smudge blurring her left half.

“You know Jake, I really like you. You’re cute, you’re nice. But I just don’t know if this can work out…Well when you put it like that it sounds bad. I just don’t think we’re right for each other in the long-term…I just think we’re wasting each other’s time if we know it’ll never work…No I don’t care about what you think…Fine then. Goodbye.”

Mandy threw her phone to the other side of the room and laid down on her bed. She held the disk to her body as she curled up into a ball. She squeezed herself tighter to shut out the pain coming from inside her chest.The longest relationship she had ever had was over. At least he doesn’t have to know. At least he’ll never find out. It doesn’t mean anything anymore.

Yes, I’m still around

I must apologize for the lack of posts lately. My wife just had a change in her employment situation, and that means we have the same work schedule. This has resulted in much needed time with my wife, but has meant I either had to put off blogging, reading, or writing until I could find a routine that allowed for all three. I choose to put blogging on hold.

But before I get back into my series of game theory for writers posts, I want to give a quick update again on where I am with my current WIP, Bleed Well.

I have officially put down the red pen as I have made all the major changes on my rough draft that I wanted to. Now I just have to transport those revisions to the computer. But that itself is essentially another revision, so I’m getting this novel pretty tuned up. In those revisions, I am about 60% done, and hope to have that set of revisions done by September 15th.

Once that is done I will be re-reading the whole work for continuity, send it off to the betas, and work on the query/synopsis.

I also have another WIP that I am in the draft stage with. It has not gotten the attention it craves as of late, but I’m about 25,000 words in and I really like what I have so far.

Hopefully I will find a way to finish my second post on game theory for writers by the end of this week. Until then may the words flow out of your head and onto the paper.

First update on my novel/chopping names

Right now I have two novels that I am writing. The first one, titled Bleed Well, is in the re-write/revise phase right now. The other one is in the draft stage and it is as of yet untitled. The new draft does not get a lot of attention as I find I’m really liking the revision process.

But anyways, Bleed Well has taught me a lot about revision; and the main thing I want to discuss with this post again deals with characters: specifically merging minor characters together.

Now I don’t know how many of you have read War and Peace, but for those of you who have (and even those who’ve just heard some horror stories) you know what I’m talking about when I say that too many characters can bog down a story to a crawl.

God bless you Leo Tolstoy, but in War and Peace you introduce SEVEN characters on the first page! This kind of character machine-gunning riddles the reader full of holes; and instead of flying through your book because it’s so beautifully written, they limp through, thinking of nothing but the difficulty of trying to figure out who is who; which characters matter; and why does it seem like this character has three names. Now Tolstoy could get away with this in the age that he wrote in, but not today.

So what do you do if you find yourself faced with your own War and Peace? Well if you’re written the next War and Pace by all means get it published! But for those of you who just have a novel with a cast of characters the size of the New York phone book, my answer would be to merge some of your minor characters together and eliminate many more.

What do I mean by this?

Each character has a specific purpose for being in the book. One character might be there for comedy relief, another to save the princess, and yet another to solve the riddle. Why not merge some of these responsibilities? Make the character that saves the princess funny. He can journey to the castle where she’s being kept, trying to solve the riddle. Then when he reaches her tells a funny joke and tells her of the riddle. Then have the princess solve the riddle. You’ve just taken four characters and condensed them into two.

I know I know that’s a pretty basic example, but look at your work carefully and scrutinize each character. Pretend you’re holding a delete key up to their head demanding that you tell them why they deserve to live; make them justify their existence. You’d be surprised just how many characters you can eliminate without losing anything.

Now an example pulled straight from my work would be this: I have a main character named Fredrick, who talks with his mother, gets some ‘motherly’ advice and moves on. Then another character, Susan, gives Fredrick some grief then dies. Does that already seem like too many characters? Yea I thought so too.

So here’s what I did. I did away with the main character’s mother. (Yes, you can do that. Nepotism is bad in both life and novels.) I then made Susan Fredrick’s aunt, who raised him after his mother died. So she’s kinda like a disliked but loved step-mother. Well Fredrick gets his ‘motherly’ advice from his aunt, who also gives Fredrick some grief. Susan dies and we move on with the story. (The mother did not do much of anything later on so she was just written out).

Another thing that I think every writer should be on the lookout for are naming insignificant characters. I won’t go into too much detail here, but no reader wants to read or cares about the six men sitting at the poker table in the back of the room. If they don’t directly contribute significant action to the story DON’T NAME THEM! But that does not mean name everybody who does something to affect the plot.

Even if one of those men at the poker table needs to break a beer bottle over your character’s head to move the plot forward, then are forgotten, just describe them as, “The man with the brown shirt who was playing poker in the back.” Yes it’s more words than just saying “Dave who was playing poker in the back.” but the word ‘Dave’ slows the reader down more than “The man with the brown shirt.” because the reader now has to create room in their mind for Dave, thinking they are an important character.

Now I don’t recommend that you keep referring to him as that in his scene. You can shorten it down to “the man” or something like that, but resist the temptation to name him. Yes it’s likely one of his buddies would say “Hey Dave, whatcha doin?” BUT DON’T DO IT HERE. Named characters need to be involved deeply in the story. They need to be 3D. Do you have time to develop Dave? Do you really have enough spare words to make him really come to life? I didn’t think so.

So as I’ve learned, by chopping down insignificant named characters and merging other characters together; you can really tighten up your writing and make your writing seem smoother and effortless.

As a side note, a blog that I read, Anne Mini’s Author! Author!, did a three part episode on names recently. I guess great minds think alike as I’ve had this in draft for the last couple days. But I just wanted to mention this so nobody thinks I’m stealing info (although I did read the articles and was probably influenced by them a little in my revisions.)