The Middle of the Dark

The first rule of writing is there are no rules of writing.  That's clever, but not exactly true.  The word I probably hear the most from other writers is 'rules.'  It's also the most political aspect of writing as well; usually the subject falls along one of three lines: There are no rules. There are, and these are the ones you never break (Show, don't tell). You have to know the rules before you can break them. This article over a io9 last week spoke to 10 generally well known rules about sci-fi/fantasy fiction; rules in writing generally being not what you should do, but what you shouldn't.  The article makes a case for breaking every single one of them.  I thought it would be fun to talk about each one in turn as I'm facing some of these decisions now in writing the new novel. 1) No third-person omniscient. I'll be honest - I'm not sure if this is actually a rule.  As the article points out, the omniscient perspective has long been th

Usually when people ask me why I write books, I tell them because I have to. It's a pretty good answer and I can't think of any other way to describe it.  For whatever reason, there is this narrative engine within me that compells me to try and tell stories.  This engine is missing a belt or two sometimes, but you know what I mean.  There is a very interesting article in the NY Times this morning that poses the question in general: why write novels at all?  In the face of more popular entertainment, specifically movies, why the novel and not a screenplay?  What motivates a writer to write?  A reader to read?  The novel faces the same challenge that the play did when the novel took over the mainstream consciousness.  I don't think the novel or literature is in any danger - more people read now than have ever read.  The book will be fine.  In fact, the book is experiencing something of a revolution.  The e-reader and digital publishing hasn't so much changed the way

“From the midst of this darkness, a sudden light broke in upon me—a light so brilliant and wondrous.” - Victor Frankenstein So after about a week of solid panic and lamenting the ruin of my art, I put it out of mind for a day.  Then I did what Anne Lamott did in Bird by Bird .  I sat down and just thought about what I liked in the story.  What the story was, not necessarily what I wanted it to be, or what others might want it to be.  I wrote down the characters, the places, the scenes, all of it in the journal there on the left, and I discovered something: all the pieces I liked, all the varying aspects of the story I tried to view it through, they all existed within the draft I had been writing.  They co-existed rather well.  This story - it's not fair to call it a story, really - this world has always been bigger than what I could get my arms around.  So many lenses existed to view the world through that I tried one at a time, certain this was it, and then finding out it

I think back to the scene in Bird by Bird , where Anne Lamott finds out her editor doesn't think the book she has invested everything in and depends on for her livelihood will not be published. He tells her he thinks it's competent, it's... capable, but what's it about? Why did you do this? She stages a passionate defense of the book (after some drinking) and in her rant, discovers the book in her heart is not the one that came out of her head. That's how I feel right now. I am disgusted with myself and the book at this point.  I went from feeling lightheaded with the tipping point a few weeks ago to the stark realization the other day that I am probably on the wrong track with this.  Again.  What's worse is I feel I was on the right track before.  Day after day I chip away at the book, and I feel, this is it, this is progress; this is the end finally for this story which has hounded me for 10 years.  The book radiates this fatigue, let's say; this n

I thought I'd update on where I'm at in my writing on a couple different pieces since I haven't really done that here in awhile.  Twitter seems to have taken over my daily updates on my progress. Novel In Progress aka GhostofBigDamnEpic aka ThatWhichRefusesToDie: Actually pretty good progress here.  252 pages as of today.  I expect the novel will be close to 400 at that end.  What's it about?  It's about a man alive at what appears to be the cosmological end of the earth - not the end, like OMG, it's the Mayan apocalypse - THE END end.  He has seen the world floruish and freeze.  He has seen every trace of humanity in the world and in him expire.  When he decides to meet his own end, he discovers the story of man - his story - is not yet over.  I hope for this to be ready for the fall. Story Collection: This is done, more or less, in the sense I've settled on the content.  Sort of.  I've debated on the Elizabeth story in it, because it has become