I haven't blogged in the last few days because I've been writing. I don't have anything to share yet; besides I have to keep some things back. I'll want you to buy my book after all.
I've been finishing up my prologue, which I mistakenly referred to as Chapter 1 in my last posting. I'm also beginning Chapter 1. It's still slow going but I'm getting used to the rhythm. Writing is becoming a more natural feeling process for me. I suppose that's what happens when you do anything repeatedly and over time. You just become more comfortable doing it. What was once outside of your comfort zone becomes a part of your comfort zone. This is happening with writing for me.
I'm also re-reading some of my favorite mystery authors. I just started (for the second time) Robert Crais' L.A. Requiem. Crais is one of my favority mystery writers. His Elvis Cole character is engaging and funny (OMG, I sound like a book critic) and his dialogue is spot on and snappy. Crais seems to have picked up the wise-cracking detective genre where Robert B. Parker left off when Parker's Spenser novels went from fun to formula. After L.A. Requiem I'll be re-reading Parker's Looking for Rachel Wallace. This is one of my favorite Spenser novels and arguably the best of the series.
I'm trying to get on a regular blogging schedule every day. I've been writing every day, which is good. Because of that however, I've been neglecting my blog. Hopefully I'll get that straightened out soon.
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Bill Browning writing from Starbucks, Ansley Mall. Wednesday, 31 March 2010.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Back to Writing
Where have I been the last five days? Learning a couple of new tours; did I mention I give tours of historical homes/areas in Atlanta? Odd thing for a New Yorker to be doing but I've been in Atlanta for twenty years and now know it much better than the city I was born in. So that's how I make my living...giving tours. Anyway I have not been able to write due to the fact that I've had to memorize two fairly complex tours in a short period of time. This is where my acting skills come in handy; did I mention I trained as an actor?
The good news is I'm now close to having those two tours down and it's back to writing. So there isn't much blog tonight. Just wanted to let you all know I'm still alive, kicking and writing. More tomorrow.
Bill Browning, writing from Starbucks at Ansley Mall, Atlanta, GA. Thursday, 25 March 2010.
The good news is I'm now close to having those two tours down and it's back to writing. So there isn't much blog tonight. Just wanted to let you all know I'm still alive, kicking and writing. More tomorrow.
Bill Browning, writing from Starbucks at Ansley Mall, Atlanta, GA. Thursday, 25 March 2010.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
First Chapter Redux
I've completely reworked the opening chapter for my book. I'm posting an excerpt below. It is the murder set up in much the same way that Law and Order shows you the crime in the first few minutes and then tells the story of the detectives solving the case. The commission of the crime itself is not in my my posting (you can read that in the published version, hopefully) but you will read what happens just befor the murder. It is not really a full chapter but more a lead in to Chapter One. I welcome any feedback you are inclined to give.
Monday, February 9th, 11 PM
John Reinke was walking his date home down 2nd Ave. past bars with solitary drinkers and couples
coming and going, convenience stores with Asian shopkeepers sitting behind counters overcrowded
with items you didn't need, an all-night diner or two, closed laundromats and the entrances to second
and third floor apartments.
There was the usual army of homeless asking for handouts. Some of their stories were elaborate and
well-thought out backed up by “documentation” that almost looked real but wasn't. Like the fake
minister who had done great things for the needy of his church and proved it to you by opening up
the cheap fake leather notebook he was carrying and showed off the photo copies of the newspaper
articles written about him. If you looked closely you could see the lines where the banner from the
New York Times (or the Post or Newsday) was pasted over a photo of him and a fake article about his
good deeds. If you could put on a good show like this and could tell a good story as well you made
money. Others who did not have the talent, the patience, the intelligence or were just too strung out to
put together an act that would draw you in usually went away empty handed. Panhandling, like
anything else in the great city, was highly competitive. Only the strongest survived.
John and Molly tried to ignore them all. That was what you did if you wanted to retain your sanity
and get anywhere close to on time. They had both learned this quickly after moving to the City a few
years ago, he from North Carolina wanting to become a successful actor, she from Westchester County,
geographically close but culturally light years from where she now lived.
It was a crisp,clear late winter night. The kind of cold that focuses you and makes you more aware
of everything around you. The people, the lights, the City itself were more sharply defined and John
loved it. John loved the weather, the City, it's people and places in a way that natives usually don't. His
love for New York was the kind of love that only people from someplace else experience. He had
arrived two years earlier and had sworn, after having been in New York for only a few weeks, that he would never leave, never live anywhere else. New York was the most exciting place he had ever been
or could imagine ever being. His acting career was just taking off so there was no reason for him to
leave. He would be here forever. Forever, for John Reinke, was not to be too much longer.
More tomorrow.
Bill Browning, writing from Starbucks, Ansley Mall, Saturday, 20 March 2010.
Monday, February 9th, 11 PM
John Reinke was walking his date home down 2nd Ave. past bars with solitary drinkers and couples
coming and going, convenience stores with Asian shopkeepers sitting behind counters overcrowded
with items you didn't need, an all-night diner or two, closed laundromats and the entrances to second
and third floor apartments.
There was the usual army of homeless asking for handouts. Some of their stories were elaborate and
well-thought out backed up by “documentation” that almost looked real but wasn't. Like the fake
minister who had done great things for the needy of his church and proved it to you by opening up
the cheap fake leather notebook he was carrying and showed off the photo copies of the newspaper
articles written about him. If you looked closely you could see the lines where the banner from the
New York Times (or the Post or Newsday) was pasted over a photo of him and a fake article about his
good deeds. If you could put on a good show like this and could tell a good story as well you made
money. Others who did not have the talent, the patience, the intelligence or were just too strung out to
put together an act that would draw you in usually went away empty handed. Panhandling, like
anything else in the great city, was highly competitive. Only the strongest survived.
John and Molly tried to ignore them all. That was what you did if you wanted to retain your sanity
and get anywhere close to on time. They had both learned this quickly after moving to the City a few
years ago, he from North Carolina wanting to become a successful actor, she from Westchester County,
geographically close but culturally light years from where she now lived.
It was a crisp,clear late winter night. The kind of cold that focuses you and makes you more aware
of everything around you. The people, the lights, the City itself were more sharply defined and John
loved it. John loved the weather, the City, it's people and places in a way that natives usually don't. His
love for New York was the kind of love that only people from someplace else experience. He had
arrived two years earlier and had sworn, after having been in New York for only a few weeks, that he would never leave, never live anywhere else. New York was the most exciting place he had ever been
or could imagine ever being. His acting career was just taking off so there was no reason for him to
leave. He would be here forever. Forever, for John Reinke, was not to be too much longer.
More tomorrow.
Bill Browning, writing from Starbucks, Ansley Mall, Saturday, 20 March 2010.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
First Chapter Breakdown
I've spent the last three days writing my first chapter. Finished around 1 AM this morning. I woke up and decided to reread it with a fresh eye. OMG, it's terrible. I've read some bad writing in the past but my first chapter was really bad. I scrapped it and am starting over. It's going to be a long haul.
I never realized that writing fiction could be so difficult. I write fairly intelligible and fluent non-fiction (yes, that was a pat on my own back). Fiction writing, however, is not even close to being the same discipline. I'll keep going however, putting one word after another until I have a novel...or just a long string of words.
Bill Browning, writing from Starbucks in the Ansley Mall, Atlanta. Sunday, 14 March 2010.
I never realized that writing fiction could be so difficult. I write fairly intelligible and fluent non-fiction (yes, that was a pat on my own back). Fiction writing, however, is not even close to being the same discipline. I'll keep going however, putting one word after another until I have a novel...or just a long string of words.
Bill Browning, writing from Starbucks in the Ansley Mall, Atlanta. Sunday, 14 March 2010.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Three New Back Stories
I have three more back stories for my characters.
Stanley (Stan) Sarnicki
47 years old, born on August 19, 1962. Street smart. Went to high school on Long Island with Tom McDermott. U.S. Marines after high school, no college. Never married, but lots of girlfriends. No children.
Alcoholic and wildman. Stan always has one foot out the door of the NYPD due to his unorthodox detective methods and off-duty behavior that is potentially embarrasing to the police department.
Overweight but you still wouldn't want to face him in a fight. 6',2" tall. Brown eyes, blond hair. Raised Catholic but has not practiced since childhood. Mother still alive and living in Brooklyn. Father ran off when he was eight years old. Has the unfortunate habit of dating unstable women. He entered the police academy the same year Tom McDermott did.
He lives in the Polish section of Brooklyn (not with his mother). Even though he is a wild card he is extremely loyal. If you're his friend he will always have your back.
Lieutenant Randall Griffin, Head of Detectives, 6th Precinct
Tom and Stan's commanding officer. Born on February 5th, 1975. Comes from a rich family. Always trying to prove that his family background does not prevent him from understanding "the street." 5' 9" tall. Dark brown hair, brown eyes. Can be a little too strict with the rules; tries as much as possible to play it by the book. This is partially due to his fear of getting into trouble with the NYPD heirarchy.
Philip Constanzo, aka "Philly No Knees", aka "The Butcher of Bensonhurst."
40 years old. Black hair, blue eyes. 5', 6" tall, built like a tank. Extremely powerful physically. Don't underestimate his intelligence however. There is very little that he misses. Thinking he's dumb can prove fatal. Picked up the mob nick name "Philly No Knees" because he was knee capped by three members of a rival gang when he was twenty five. He now walks with the assistance of artificial knees. He picked up the nickname "The Butcher of Bensonhurst" because of his engineering of the extermination of a rival gang in Bensonhurst (Brooklyn) when he was twenty seven. Has a reputation for extreme violence. He was a hit man and is now in control of his own sub mob.
He's married with three children, a son and two daughters.
I'm not planning on writing any more back stories for my novel unless one of my other characters turns into a major character.
Bill Browning, 9 March 2010, writing from Starbucks, Midtown Atlanta.
Stanley (Stan) Sarnicki
47 years old, born on August 19, 1962. Street smart. Went to high school on Long Island with Tom McDermott. U.S. Marines after high school, no college. Never married, but lots of girlfriends. No children.
Alcoholic and wildman. Stan always has one foot out the door of the NYPD due to his unorthodox detective methods and off-duty behavior that is potentially embarrasing to the police department.
Overweight but you still wouldn't want to face him in a fight. 6',2" tall. Brown eyes, blond hair. Raised Catholic but has not practiced since childhood. Mother still alive and living in Brooklyn. Father ran off when he was eight years old. Has the unfortunate habit of dating unstable women. He entered the police academy the same year Tom McDermott did.
He lives in the Polish section of Brooklyn (not with his mother). Even though he is a wild card he is extremely loyal. If you're his friend he will always have your back.
Lieutenant Randall Griffin, Head of Detectives, 6th Precinct
Tom and Stan's commanding officer. Born on February 5th, 1975. Comes from a rich family. Always trying to prove that his family background does not prevent him from understanding "the street." 5' 9" tall. Dark brown hair, brown eyes. Can be a little too strict with the rules; tries as much as possible to play it by the book. This is partially due to his fear of getting into trouble with the NYPD heirarchy.
Philip Constanzo, aka "Philly No Knees", aka "The Butcher of Bensonhurst."
40 years old. Black hair, blue eyes. 5', 6" tall, built like a tank. Extremely powerful physically. Don't underestimate his intelligence however. There is very little that he misses. Thinking he's dumb can prove fatal. Picked up the mob nick name "Philly No Knees" because he was knee capped by three members of a rival gang when he was twenty five. He now walks with the assistance of artificial knees. He picked up the nickname "The Butcher of Bensonhurst" because of his engineering of the extermination of a rival gang in Bensonhurst (Brooklyn) when he was twenty seven. Has a reputation for extreme violence. He was a hit man and is now in control of his own sub mob.
He's married with three children, a son and two daughters.
I'm not planning on writing any more back stories for my novel unless one of my other characters turns into a major character.
Bill Browning, 9 March 2010, writing from Starbucks, Midtown Atlanta.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
A Few Thoughts
No writing notes today, just some ruminations on a fairly famous writer.
Sometimes I think I'm the only person of my generation (I was born in 1952) who has never read Jack Kerouac's On the Road. I know that this is undoubtedly not true but whenever I speak to one of my other writer friends or just people of my age who read a lot, it seems that if the subject of Kerouac comes up, they've read him.
I began thinking of Kerouac yesterday while doing my laundry. The laundromat I was in had an old issue of Smithsonian magazine (September 2007) in which there was a piece about Kerouac written by Joyce Johnson who, at the time On the Road was published, had a relationship with Kerouac. He was an interesting character. He achieved astounding literary fame and then retreated from the literary life and his friends. Not long after his famous book was published he moved into a home in Northport, New York (not too far from Huntington, NY where I once worked in a bookstore) to care for his mother. He was also hiding from his celebrity status. It's strange that so many successful authors have done this, J.D. Salinger being the name that immediately comes to mind. Kerouac also drank heavily and passed away on October 21, 1969 from an internal hemorrhage which was the end result of the cirrhosis he had developed. He was living in St. Petersburg, FL at the time of his death.
Kerouac's story makes me wonder about the nature of the creative process and how it relates to the personality of the writer. In what part of the personality does creativity come from and what makes someone retreat from literary success, or any other kind of creative success, after it is achieved? I don't have anything to add in terms of understanding this process, at the moment, or Kerouac. I should just go ahead and read him. I'll start with On the Road and move on to Dharma Bums from there.
Bill Browning, Atlanta, GA, Sunday, 7 March 2010.
Sometimes I think I'm the only person of my generation (I was born in 1952) who has never read Jack Kerouac's On the Road. I know that this is undoubtedly not true but whenever I speak to one of my other writer friends or just people of my age who read a lot, it seems that if the subject of Kerouac comes up, they've read him.
I began thinking of Kerouac yesterday while doing my laundry. The laundromat I was in had an old issue of Smithsonian magazine (September 2007) in which there was a piece about Kerouac written by Joyce Johnson who, at the time On the Road was published, had a relationship with Kerouac. He was an interesting character. He achieved astounding literary fame and then retreated from the literary life and his friends. Not long after his famous book was published he moved into a home in Northport, New York (not too far from Huntington, NY where I once worked in a bookstore) to care for his mother. He was also hiding from his celebrity status. It's strange that so many successful authors have done this, J.D. Salinger being the name that immediately comes to mind. Kerouac also drank heavily and passed away on October 21, 1969 from an internal hemorrhage which was the end result of the cirrhosis he had developed. He was living in St. Petersburg, FL at the time of his death.
Kerouac's story makes me wonder about the nature of the creative process and how it relates to the personality of the writer. In what part of the personality does creativity come from and what makes someone retreat from literary success, or any other kind of creative success, after it is achieved? I don't have anything to add in terms of understanding this process, at the moment, or Kerouac. I should just go ahead and read him. I'll start with On the Road and move on to Dharma Bums from there.
Bill Browning, Atlanta, GA, Sunday, 7 March 2010.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Back Stories
I did not get up early this morning to write. Sigh! I was just too tired and slept through my alarm.
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Below is what I have so far in terms of back story for my characters. I had more than this one back story written but was not happy with most of them and am in the process of rewriting.
Thomas (Tom) McDermott.
47 years old; born on November 12, 1962. Intelligent, streetwise, 5', 11". Dark brown hair just beginning to gray, blue eyes. NYPD Detective assigned to the 6th Precinct, Greenwich Village, Manhattan. 48 years old. Raised Catholic, now on the fence about it. Entertained the thought of entering the priesthood earlier in life. Explored the seminary but ultimately decided against it. He now attends mass occasionally but can't decide to either leave the church completely or get back into it. His ambivalence about his religion is a direct result of what he has seen and had to do as a policeman.
He was raised on Long Island in Smithtown. He now lives alone in an apartment in Queens. Tom is separated but not divorced. His wife is Lisa, a practicing Catholic. Two daughters, Margaret, 16, rebellious, in high school and Barbara, 19, away at college, more conservative than her sister, also a practicing Catholic like her mother.
Tom served four years in the Army directly out of high school. He then attended SUNY Stony Brook (the State University of New York at Stony Brook); earned a bachelor's degree in history. Tom entered the police academy at 28 years old.
He drinks regularly but not heavily. He is in moderate to good physical shape but not great shape. He could lose a few pounds. He has just started lifting weights and running but does not do it regularly.
He is reserved but not too much so. He likes Italian and Mexican food best. He enjoys older, i.e.: 1940s and 1950s, movies. He also likes modern horror movies but will pretty much see anything. He will also see any movie with Sandra Bullock. When he reads he reads history. He can't stand reading police mysteries; he thinks they are not very accurate. Besides he lives that life everyday. His favorite music is Jazz. His mother is dead and he is estranged from his father, a hard drinking Irishman.
He does not want to go any further up the chain of command in the NYPD and is happy where he is. He believes that too much compromise is involved in becoming a "boss" and prefers to do detective work.
I'll have more tomorrow.
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Bill Browning blogging from Starbucks in Midtown Atlanta, Friday, 5 March 2010.
_______________________________________
Below is what I have so far in terms of back story for my characters. I had more than this one back story written but was not happy with most of them and am in the process of rewriting.
Thomas (Tom) McDermott.
47 years old; born on November 12, 1962. Intelligent, streetwise, 5', 11". Dark brown hair just beginning to gray, blue eyes. NYPD Detective assigned to the 6th Precinct, Greenwich Village, Manhattan. 48 years old. Raised Catholic, now on the fence about it. Entertained the thought of entering the priesthood earlier in life. Explored the seminary but ultimately decided against it. He now attends mass occasionally but can't decide to either leave the church completely or get back into it. His ambivalence about his religion is a direct result of what he has seen and had to do as a policeman.
He was raised on Long Island in Smithtown. He now lives alone in an apartment in Queens. Tom is separated but not divorced. His wife is Lisa, a practicing Catholic. Two daughters, Margaret, 16, rebellious, in high school and Barbara, 19, away at college, more conservative than her sister, also a practicing Catholic like her mother.
Tom served four years in the Army directly out of high school. He then attended SUNY Stony Brook (the State University of New York at Stony Brook); earned a bachelor's degree in history. Tom entered the police academy at 28 years old.
He drinks regularly but not heavily. He is in moderate to good physical shape but not great shape. He could lose a few pounds. He has just started lifting weights and running but does not do it regularly.
He is reserved but not too much so. He likes Italian and Mexican food best. He enjoys older, i.e.: 1940s and 1950s, movies. He also likes modern horror movies but will pretty much see anything. He will also see any movie with Sandra Bullock. When he reads he reads history. He can't stand reading police mysteries; he thinks they are not very accurate. Besides he lives that life everyday. His favorite music is Jazz. His mother is dead and he is estranged from his father, a hard drinking Irishman.
He does not want to go any further up the chain of command in the NYPD and is happy where he is. He believes that too much compromise is involved in becoming a "boss" and prefers to do detective work.
I'll have more tomorrow.
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Bill Browning blogging from Starbucks in Midtown Atlanta, Friday, 5 March 2010.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
What I'm Thinking
Just a few thoughts on writing tonight. Writing is hard work, it's difficult and it's frustrating. There are times I sit staring at this laptop screen wondering what I'm going to write next. I wonder how I'm going to write something that will make sense and help my novel move forward. I want to scream, I want to cry (well maybe that's a slight exagerration), I wonder why I continue writing. At the same time writing is extremely rewarding when it is flowing smoothly. Getting a good dialogue down on paper is a great high. Putting together a few good paragraphs is a feeling that I can't aqdequately describe (yet); it's one of the best feelings that I have ever had. I think, "hey, I've written something that really is good." So that keeps me going. That keeps me waking up every morning before I have to get ready for work so that I can write.
And yes, I wake up early every morning to write. I get this from Brett Easton Ellis. I read an interview he gave once where he stated that he woke up at 4 AM in the morning to work on his first novel. He had to do this because he still had to hold on to a regular job. I try to do the same thing. I'm afraid, however, that I don't always manage to get myself out of bed at 4 AM. But I try.
So what really motivates me to write, to want to be published? Those are two different questions and I'm still exploring my motivations so I don't yet have complete answers. Here's what I have so far. I have always had a talent for writing. When I was younger I found it much easier to explain myself through writing rather than through verbal communication. So I like to write. I seem to have some talent for non-fiction writing. Fiction writing is a little harder but I still am fairly good at some aspects of it as well, dialogue for instance. I seem to have a good ear for natural sounding dialogue and can put it to paper fairly easily. Other aspects of fiction writing don't come as easily to me, story structure and plot for instance. I'll speak of those some other time. So writing fulfills a need I have to communicate well. Possibly also to tell stories and communicate information: while I was employed as a bank fraud analyst I regularly had to explain via email, clearly and concisely, how I arrived at certain conclusions regarding fraud, missing deposits, etc. And I was pretty good at it.
To be honest I also like to hear people tell me how they liked something I've written. And that brings me to why I want to be published. I want to not only write for myself, or a small group of readers, I want to tell stories that thousands of people want to read. That's the real high. Knowing that you've written a novel, a novelette, a short story that readers like and relate to and want more of.
I think I should stop here. This post is a little more unfocused than I like. Tonight most of it is coming off the top of my head. I also want to put in a little more work on my book.
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Tomorrow I'll post some of my character's back stories.
Bill Browning, writing from Starbucks in Midtown Atlanta, Thursday, 4 March 2010.
And yes, I wake up early every morning to write. I get this from Brett Easton Ellis. I read an interview he gave once where he stated that he woke up at 4 AM in the morning to work on his first novel. He had to do this because he still had to hold on to a regular job. I try to do the same thing. I'm afraid, however, that I don't always manage to get myself out of bed at 4 AM. But I try.
So what really motivates me to write, to want to be published? Those are two different questions and I'm still exploring my motivations so I don't yet have complete answers. Here's what I have so far. I have always had a talent for writing. When I was younger I found it much easier to explain myself through writing rather than through verbal communication. So I like to write. I seem to have some talent for non-fiction writing. Fiction writing is a little harder but I still am fairly good at some aspects of it as well, dialogue for instance. I seem to have a good ear for natural sounding dialogue and can put it to paper fairly easily. Other aspects of fiction writing don't come as easily to me, story structure and plot for instance. I'll speak of those some other time. So writing fulfills a need I have to communicate well. Possibly also to tell stories and communicate information: while I was employed as a bank fraud analyst I regularly had to explain via email, clearly and concisely, how I arrived at certain conclusions regarding fraud, missing deposits, etc. And I was pretty good at it.
To be honest I also like to hear people tell me how they liked something I've written. And that brings me to why I want to be published. I want to not only write for myself, or a small group of readers, I want to tell stories that thousands of people want to read. That's the real high. Knowing that you've written a novel, a novelette, a short story that readers like and relate to and want more of.
I think I should stop here. This post is a little more unfocused than I like. Tonight most of it is coming off the top of my head. I also want to put in a little more work on my book.
___________________________________
Tomorrow I'll post some of my character's back stories.
Bill Browning, writing from Starbucks in Midtown Atlanta, Thursday, 4 March 2010.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
What I'm Doing...and a Few Thoughts on Writing
Tonight I'm working on back stories for my main characters. I should be done in a few days and will post them this coming Friday, or at least those I've finished. Back stories are fun...and easy. You don't have to worry about style or grammar since they won't make it into your novel. I'm having a good time with this.
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Writing, I think, is a lot like cooking. Cooking is my hobby. Having some knowledge of what foods go together or training in cooking usually helps. And by training I don't necessarily mean going to a cooking school. Few of us can afford that. Mom, aunts, older siblings can all teach you how to cook, assuming they know how themselves. In my case I learned some things by watching my dad cook. His repertoire was limited but what he cooked was good.
In cooking you get your ingredients, mix them together and hopefully come up with something tasty. If you mix together mismatched ingredients however you get something that sucks. I've done that lots of times.
Writing, at least fiction writing, is similar. You get your ingredients, i.e.: characters, settings, plot, and mix them together. Hopefully you've chosen your "ingredients" wisely. If you have you will end up with a well written story that people want to read. However, if you choose those ingredients badly, and there are lots of bad, boring or terribly written stories out there, than you get a bad short story, novelette, novel, etc. And like cooking a little training, self or otherwise, doesn't hurt. I've taken writing classes taught by published authors and have also read lots of books about writing. Writer's Digest is a good source for those books. Some folks have a natural ability to write fiction. Most of us, however, need a little guidance and training. Enough of that before I get boring.
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I just finished reading Henning Mankell's Faceless Killers. I spoke of this book a few days ago. Mankell is a pretty good Swedish mystery novelist. His novels are published in the U.S. in translation from the original Swedish. They were also translated by someone who speaks British English and not American English. Even so if you can get past all that reading Mankell is a treat that any reader of hard boiled detective fiction will like. I recommend him highly. You can get his books at any major (or minor) bookseller. And that brings me to my digression for the evening. I like the chains. In fact I worked for several years at Barnes & Noble in New York City; it was a great job. The reason I like the big chain stores is because they can carry midlist authors that the smaller stores can't simply because of space and financial limitations. They have a selection unparalleled by independent booksellers. There are plenty of authors who probably would not have made it without the chains to stock and sell their books. That being said I also like independents and have a great deal of respect for anyone with the guts to open an independent bookstore, especially in the current economy. In addition independent booksellers can usually provide a service that chains usually don't. That service is knowledgeable booksellers, people who can recommend titles better than most chain store employees.
I know it sounds like I'm riding the fence on this issue but I'm not. I think there are many positives to both chain and independent booksellers. I'm sure there are plenty of folks who disagree with me on that. I'ld love to hear from you if you want to comment.
That's all for tonight. I'll be back tomorrow with more.
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Writing, I think, is a lot like cooking. Cooking is my hobby. Having some knowledge of what foods go together or training in cooking usually helps. And by training I don't necessarily mean going to a cooking school. Few of us can afford that. Mom, aunts, older siblings can all teach you how to cook, assuming they know how themselves. In my case I learned some things by watching my dad cook. His repertoire was limited but what he cooked was good.
In cooking you get your ingredients, mix them together and hopefully come up with something tasty. If you mix together mismatched ingredients however you get something that sucks. I've done that lots of times.
Writing, at least fiction writing, is similar. You get your ingredients, i.e.: characters, settings, plot, and mix them together. Hopefully you've chosen your "ingredients" wisely. If you have you will end up with a well written story that people want to read. However, if you choose those ingredients badly, and there are lots of bad, boring or terribly written stories out there, than you get a bad short story, novelette, novel, etc. And like cooking a little training, self or otherwise, doesn't hurt. I've taken writing classes taught by published authors and have also read lots of books about writing. Writer's Digest is a good source for those books. Some folks have a natural ability to write fiction. Most of us, however, need a little guidance and training. Enough of that before I get boring.
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I just finished reading Henning Mankell's Faceless Killers. I spoke of this book a few days ago. Mankell is a pretty good Swedish mystery novelist. His novels are published in the U.S. in translation from the original Swedish. They were also translated by someone who speaks British English and not American English. Even so if you can get past all that reading Mankell is a treat that any reader of hard boiled detective fiction will like. I recommend him highly. You can get his books at any major (or minor) bookseller. And that brings me to my digression for the evening. I like the chains. In fact I worked for several years at Barnes & Noble in New York City; it was a great job. The reason I like the big chain stores is because they can carry midlist authors that the smaller stores can't simply because of space and financial limitations. They have a selection unparalleled by independent booksellers. There are plenty of authors who probably would not have made it without the chains to stock and sell their books. That being said I also like independents and have a great deal of respect for anyone with the guts to open an independent bookstore, especially in the current economy. In addition independent booksellers can usually provide a service that chains usually don't. That service is knowledgeable booksellers, people who can recommend titles better than most chain store employees.
I know it sounds like I'm riding the fence on this issue but I'm not. I think there are many positives to both chain and independent booksellers. I'm sure there are plenty of folks who disagree with me on that. I'ld love to hear from you if you want to comment.
That's all for tonight. I'll be back tomorrow with more.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Not a Day for Writing
I just finished moving furniture and I'm exhausted. If I were to write anything, other than this short post that is, it undoubtedly would not make a lot of sense. To be honest not making sense had never stopped me in the past but for tonight anyway it will. More tomorrow.
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