Inventive Ideas and Thoughts

March 18, 2013 1:07 am / Leave a Comment /

So tonight I have been outlining one of my novels. It started as an idea for a hard boiled mystery novel, but during the course of so many idea revisions and revises, it’s become more of a thriller, less of a mystery. I’ve decided to focus more on the relationships between my characters, and how they interact and the ripple effect of their relationships.

With that, I’ve also been graced with a very difficult choice: How to write my story. This story could be written a few ways, switching points of view with each scene, with each chapter, but I realized that this story has three very distinct plot lines. To get the full effect of the story, I need to amplify those. So, I’ve started this story with a single plot, and once it reaches a point I am calling the “merger point,” where the two main plot lines combine and all four of my main characters come together, I will rewind the timeline and the reader will start down the second plot line, up to that same merger point, from the second set of protag and antagonists points of view. It’s a unique way of handling things, for sure, but I think if I pull it off, it could be the best thing I’ve ever written.

Have you ever written anything with a unique timeline? Have you ever read anything with one? Do you think it worked, or could it work?

Posted in: Writing Craft

To You – The Last Letter (Letter #7)

March 17, 2013 8:00 am / Leave a Comment /

To You,

I don’t know what today is, but I’m betting it’s a happy one. I don’t know how old you are, but if you’re doing this, I’m sure you’re old enough. What I do know is that you might be thinking of me today. If you are, know that I’m standing beside you, hand on your shoulder, hoping for you to be happy. This is your day, and I want you to make the best of it, because if you are my son this will be the only time you ever do this.

Weddings aren’t for the woman, we just let them think that. You’ll look back on your wedding down the road, and you’ll remember how beautiful she looked in her dress, how much you wanted to run and kiss her right there in the aisle, how difficult it was to stand your ground and watch the most beautiful woman in the world coming towards you. And you’ll tear up every single time you do, because that’s what is supposed to happen. You’re supposed to get those emotions built up, you’re supposed to have those feelings of love, tenderness, and excitement whenever you think of your wife.

Make the most of this, my son, you’ve had a hard life, you have done many things that I never thought you would when we watched you in the hospital fighting cancer. But there you are, the answer to the prayers I made for God to take me instead. Just know that I am happy for you, and if it rains today, it is only because I cannot hold back my tears of joy to see my baby boy grown into such a man.

I love you.

Love,

Dad

Posted in: Short Stories, To You / Tagged: , , ,

FREE STORY: Daddy and Daddy

March 16, 2013 10:33 am / Leave a Comment /

            When he asked me why his friend had two dads, I’ll admit I was stumped. The way children talk, the way they present themselves, it’s very disarming to an adult; especially when it’s your own child. When I look at him, I don’t see the 7 year old boy he is today, I see the 7 second old new born, still covered in various undiscussables, crying, but looking so beautiful. He’s my boy, and I get that pride of a father every time I look at him.

 

Read the full story on it’s story page.

Posted in: Short Stories

Frustration in the wake of realization

March 16, 2013 9:28 am / Leave a Comment /

I realized last night that my current WIP was, how should I put it, doomed to failure. This was 6,000 words into it, and it just didn’t feel right, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. After a couple hours of re-reading it, and asking for input from my closest pre-readers, it became apparent to me that I’d screwed up the timeline of the story quite heavily, made some things too obvious where they shouldn’t be (though, that would have been easy enough to fix in edits) and not included all the main characters where I should have.

Basically, I have 6,000 words of a novel, but they’re not in the proper spots right now. It’s a bit frustrating seeing that, and a couple years ago I would have simply walked away from the piece (I know, because I’ve done it.) Instead, I went back to my drawing board, which happens to be XMind, a mind-mapping software, where I’m currently outlining the book.

The problem is that I create such convoluted ideas. This novel, for instance, has 4 main characters–2 protags and 2 antags–and 2 main-sub-plot lines, which combine around the middle (which is where I’d started the story) to create a single main plot line. To handle all this without an outline of some kind is insane, and I realize this now.

Basically, my working rule at this point in time is to write without outlining, but the minute it starts to feel like it might be a novel-length work, to stop, and really ask myself where this story is going, and start outlining the basic skeleton. I try to start with a raw outline, for example in my historical fiction novel I started the outline knowing that I had 4 distinct sections of the book which would encompass a time period, so I wrote a description for each section about what I wanted to happen. From there, I broke it down by scene, until I had an extremely detailed outline. This was good, since that book relied heavily on historical accuracy.

For my mystery novel I’m trying to form a basic skeleton, understanding exactly what clues I require for the outcome to be honest and real, and then find points in the story where that clue would come to light naturally. Maybe I’ll keep outlining after that, maybe not. I don’t subscribe to the theory that outlines restrict your creativity. I feel the outline itself is creative, it’s the start of things, you’re building the shell, and then you flesh that shell out with each pass. A lot of my outlines could be considered first drafts, simply because I write such details. Snippets of dialog, scenery, things that pop into my head when I think of each scene. I note it so I don’t forget it. Sometimes the outline changes, and that’s fine. That’s why I keep an outline, so I can manipulate it, and follow the ripple through the rest of the story.

My question to you is, do you outline, and if so, how deeply do you outline, and for what things?

Posted in: Writing Craft / Tagged:

To You – Letter #6

March 16, 2013 8:00 am / Leave a Comment /

January 23rd, 2007

 

To You,

You’re a man now. 20 years old. You’ve most likely graduated, and are in college now. If not, what the hell do you think you’re doing? I want more for you than I could have. I want you to get a degree. Make something of yourself. I don’t care what in, make it something you love, make it something you’ll enjoy doing for the rest of your life, but do it. Even if you never use the degree, at least  you’ll have the experience.

But don’t spend your entire life working. Find someone, skip class, take fewer hours at work, work enough to survive, but then do something with that life. You’ve been granted a gift, and you should make the most of it. God didn’t let you stay on this earth for nothing. You’re meant for great things.

I hope you see that.

 

Love,

Dad

Posted in: Short Stories, To You / Tagged: , , ,

To You – Letter #5

March 15, 2013 8:00 am / Leave a Comment /

January 23rd, 2000

 

To You,

You’re my teenager now. Here I sit, my eyes closed, picturing you as a teenager, seeing you as no longer a boy, but a young man. I can’t imagine not being able to see you, I can’t imagine missing you. It happened way too soon, and I want to apologize for that. It was my fault, it was all my fault, and your mother was right the entire time. She knew my smoking would ruin our family. I should have listened to her.

I imagine by now she’s moved on, found someone else. I want you to know that whoever it is, no matter what you’re feeling towards him, give him a chance. It’s not easy stepping into the role of a father, I’ve been there, I know. I was horrible at it, and it’s even harder when the child is already grown. I’m gone, and she has every right to be happy. I want her to find someone she can love, someone to make her happy.

As I write these letters to you, it amuses me that here I am dieing, and you were the one with cancer. God granted me my wish. The wish I wished the first day we found out. The day I hit my knees, the day I prayed for us to switch places, for God to take me instead. I meant every word of that prayer, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I love you, my son. I love you more than anything in this world, and you need to know that.

I may be dead, but that doesn’t mean I’m gone. I live forever for you in each of these letters, and in everything I ever told you. I live forever within the heart of your mother, and your own heart. Whenever you need me, just think of me, and I will be there.

 

Love,

Dad

Posted in: Short Stories, To You / Tagged: , , ,

To You – Letter #4

March 14, 2013 8:00 am / Leave a Comment /

January 23rd, 1997

 

To You,

Your tenth birthday. I miss you. I wish I could hold you right now, hold you tight and tell you that everything will be fine, that you’re growing into such a stunning young man, that you’ve just hit double digits and you’re closer to being a teenager than you are to being a baby, but I can’t.

Death is an odd thing, it reaches in and pulls at your heart. It takes you whenever it feels like it, wherever it wants. It’s the only constant in a world of changes. Things change so rapidly, I don’t know what you’d be interested in, I don’t know what I would buy you, or what you would enjoy. You’re mother was always the better one for that. I was the disciplinarian. I guess that’s how you see me, the mean Dad, the guy yelling at you all the time.

That’s not how it was, though, that’s not it at all. The things I wish I’d let you know, the things I always wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t find the words to say them to you, or didn’t feel you could fully understand them even if I did say them. I regret it, but I do love you. That’s why I would watch you as you slept, watch you from the doorway as you lay on your bed, quietly breathing, peacefully. I wish I could see that more, but I can’t.

I love you.

 

Love,

Dad

Posted in: Short Stories, To You / Tagged: , , ,
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