Life moves on and so do I. I’ve had to deal with family issues, putting my mom into a nursing home and taking care of her house. It’s been a stressful and disruptive time for me. But, I resolved the difficult bits and I can now try to get back to normality.

I’ve not written much new apart from free-writing. I have finished editing “The Game Is Afoot”, which I’ll send to anyone that signs up to my new mailing list. 

I’ve also reworked my personal website http://auteureist.com.  All my future posts will be on my personal site. I’ll be moving off of Tumblr, but will leave this site up and provide a link on my site back to here.

I’m going to finish editing my noir novel and publish it this month (October), before I dive into NaNoWriMo. I’ll start writing my Holmesian novel which now has a title, “The Singular Case of the Dead Cowboy” during November. 

This year has been a mess, but I’m back in my flow again.

My Backlog

I’ve been busy and life got in the way, but I’ve been able to keep up with my writing and editing. I have, however, been remiss in posting on here.

My backlog is growing. This is my current workload:

- Finish my song-based story which has grown beyond a short story.

- Finish transcribing (handwriting to type) my satire.

- Finish editing my noir, and publish it this year.

- Finish editing my thriller.

- Finish transcribing/editing “The Man With All the Cards” short story collection.

- Start writing my Holmesian mystery. This may have to wait until NaNoWriMo this year–it’s coming fast.

- I’m doing final edits on the short story I posted here, “The Game is Afoot”.

- NaNoWriMo, of course. I have no idea what I’ll write.

I’ve finally gotten around to generating ePub versions of my “Roland Targus” saga and put them up on sale. (http://auteureist.com). The only excuse I have, is I’m not big on marketing or selling my writing. I write for myself, but perhaps others may find what I produce of some entertainment value.

I’m going to set up a mailing list and release the final edit of the short story “The Game Is Afoot” for free. It has really grown on me as a story as the edits have improved it.

I’m still busy redesigning/rewriting my app. This is a long process.

I’m slowly making my way through my To Be Read pile of books. You can join me on Goodreads (Serg Koren).

And, of course, there is the normal life stuff.

See you next time.

The Game Is Afoot - 1st Pass Editing

I’ve done my first editing pass through the short story that I posted. I addressed all of the issues I laid out in the previous post and am feeling better about the result. All of the plot holes and continuity issues have been resolved and there is more context and cohesion. The story now holds up as a story and is less of a rambling stream-of-consciousness.

There are still issues I want to address. I will do a second read-through and, as before, make a list of the things that need to be fixed. I also want to take each scene and make sure it works as a scene that contributes to the overall story. I’m going to use Dwight Swain’s Scene/Sequel method as described in Techniques of the Selling Writer.

A Scene has:

1. A goal

2. A Conflict

3. A Disaster

A Sequel has:

1. A reaction to the disaster

2. A dilemma

3. A decision.

These alternate throughout a story or book to produce the proper amount of tension from scene to scene.

This second pass will be more rigorous and time-consuming, but I’ve found that it improves my writing, even if I occasionally break the cycle of Scene/Sequel.

Word up!

I’ve done my first read-through of the short story I posted. This is when I just read what I have written and make notes about things that I need to fix, add, delete, and otherwise edit in upcoming passes. 

As part of the read-through I ignore:

• Fix Tense
• Fix Grammar
• Fix Spelling 

and just focus on the story.  I make notes as I read. Here is what I need to fix in upcoming edits organized by scene:

Holmes

• Motive
• Add early references to strange odor
• Add early references to cats
• Rework discussion starting with “The victim had he hit his head…
• Remove reference to struggle. Justify flattened grass a different way.

Who Is it

• Expand on the victim’s appearance and differences.

Evidence

• Blakeslee needs to limp at some point. (This is the red-herring. Need to explain it at the end.)

Randolf Blakeslee

• Need to mention the Niles’ walker.
• Blakeslee needs to accuse Niles of being condescending

New Clue 

• Niles needs to look at Watson indicating he has a clue.

Evidence

Discovery

• Corroborate the DNA info.

Plans

• Mention strange odor.

Family 

The Plan

• Blakeslee needs to mention he’s tired of telling Niles to get rid of the rocks.

The Trap

The Confrontation

• Need to make more clearly why they rush in. “Door standing open” isn’t enough.
• More gun clarification needed

The Fight

• Set the scene: night, dark, etc.
• Change assailant to intruder
• Clarify there are at least two pillows.
• More sound cues.
• More about property values from Blakeslee
• Change platoon to file.

The Goodbye

• More details after he starts to gurgle.
• Move last sentence to the end.

End

• Actually this is 2 scenes. Split.
• What does Blakeslee hoard?

Conclusion

• Change the gun to being in the litter

Epilogue

In the next pass, I will go through each item in the list and rewrite or fix the scene based on the above.

The Game Is Afoot - 1st Draft

As promised in the last post, here is the 1st draft. Again note, this is awful, as most 1st drafts are. This is even worse than most of my first attempts because writing sprints are about writing fast, not well. 

Also note that this is not the Holmesian novel I’ve been working on.

The § is the scene marker my app uses.

The Without further ado, here is “The Game Is Afoot” 

The Game Is Afoot

©2020 by S.Koren.

All rights reserved.

about 9000 words

§ - HOLMES -

“Watson, the game is afoot!”

“What do you want, Niles?” I rolled over in my bed, my cell phone at my ear. I’d been in the middle of a nice dream when the phone rang shattering the beach to shards. My mind was still groggy as I focused on the frail British voice in my ear.

“The game is afoot! We’re needed!”

Niles, my neighbor was a harmless soul, but calling me out of a sound slumber was unusual. “What foot? What are you talking about, Niles?” I glanced at the clock by my bedside. Five in the morning. I groaned.

“Are you alright, Watson?”

“I’m fine,” I mumble. “And don’t call me Watson. My name is, Katelyn…Katelyn Alden. Now what are you going on about a foot?”

“Watson, there is a dead body on my front lawn.”

I yawn and sit up. It’s too early for this nonsense. “What is it this time? A squirrel? Or maybe a deer?”

“No, Watson. A man!”

“Is he cutting your lawn, by chance?”

“No, of course not. Don’t be silly. He’s lying face down on the grass.”

I rub the grit out of my eyes. “You’re not imagining things again are you, Niles? You know the last time you imagined someone was trying to poison Mrs. Hudgeon. It turned out to be someone selling Girl Scout cookies.”

“I’m not imaging this–and I still think that girl was up to no good. Mrs. Hudson would have died, had I not eaten those biscuits.”

I yawn again. “Listen, Niles, I’m tired. I got back late from the hospital. I’ll come over once I get a few more hours of sleep. OK?” I drop back down onto my bed.

“No, Watson. This is important. There is no time to waste. We must ascertain the identity of the victim and apprehend the foul perpetrator before he can enact his plans.”

“What plans?” I realize I’m far too wide awake now to go back to sleep. I curse.

“What did you say, Watson?”

“Nothing. I just asked, what plans?”

“Why, the nefarious plans the murderer has of course.”

“Of course.”

“Come, Watson. You know I need your level headed ness and objective point of view. I’m too interred in my own studies to know much about the way of the common people.”

I grumble and admit I’ll never get back to sleep now. “Ok, Niles. Just give me a few minutes to shower and throw some clothes on.”

“Good lad. And stop calling me Niles, you know my name is Holmes, Sherlock Holmes.”

The line went dead. I cursed.

Half an hour later I was standing next to Niles Jewell on his front lawn. There was indeed a dead body lying face down on the grass in a brownish pool of blood. It took me a long moment to register that this was not some sort of prank. Then my training kicked in. I knelt by the man and felt for a pulse on his neck. I glanced up at Niles. “He’s dead. Did you call anyone?”

“I called you, of course,” was the thin balding man’s reply. He wore a plaid bathrobe which was his usual attire. His shoes were his bedroom slippers. He held a pipe in his hand. I’d tried to get him to stop the vile habit, but he’d just waved me off arguing it steadied the nerves and focused his faculties. I question his faculties.

“I meant did you call the police?”

“No. No disrespect Scotland Yard, or Inspector Lestrade, but they are not up to this.”

“We’re in America. This is Philadelphia. There is no Scotland Yard.” I knew Niles wasn’t dangerous and just had a fixation on Sherlock Holmes. “You should call the police, Niles.” He stood there gazing at the body. “Holmes, call the Yard,” I commanded.

“Ah! Good idea, Watson. I’ll do that. But first, what do you make of the crime scene?”

I stood and to humor my neighbor I glanced down at the body. He was beyond anyone’s help at this point, and I was curious. “Well, given the blood flowing out of his head and the white ornamental stones along your curb,” I point, “and that one has blood on it, I’d say he tripped and hit his head on the stone. Simple accident.”

Niles stood in silence a moment pondering my brilliant, but simple deduction. “No, Watson. This was no accident. The man was murdered.”

I glanced from the victim to Niles. “How can you say that? All the evidence shows an accident.”

“No, my dear fellow.” I wince. “The victim, had he hit his head on the stone, would have died on his back and not face down on the earth.”

“Maybe he was alive after he hit his head and rolled over before he died. And if it was murder, what about the blood on the stone?”

“It’s possible, but unlikely he could have made it that far from the stone. The amount of blood on his head points to an almost instantaneous death. As to the blood on the stone…” Niles steps closer and peers at the whitewashed rock that had smears of red-brown on it. “As to the stone…the murderer smeared his hands on it while making his escape. If you will note there are smudges of blood on the grass between the body and the stone. Also note the grass, which has not been mowed all week, is flattened in a large area. There was a struggle here. The murderer killed the victim and in his haste to escape stumbled and grabbed at the rock smearing it with the victim’s blood.”

I stood there with my mouth agape as I examined the scene and the clues Niles had laid out. “You should really call the police.”

§ - WHO IS IT -

A short time later Niles front yard was cordened off and several officers were investigating the scene. The photographer had done his job and the EMTs were standing by to take possession of the body. Niles and I stood off to the side. An officer walks over to us. “Well it looks like an accident. The man must have been a burglar, tripped over one of the rocks during the night and hit his head on another. The bloody rock points to that.” My eyebrows go up.

Niles peers at the man’s badge. It read “Lewis”. “Inspector Lestrade, it’s obviously murder to anyone with a bit of wit about them.”

The officer blinks in confusion. “The name is Lewis, and I’m a Sargeant, not an Inspector. And what makes you think this was murder?” Niles repeats the observation he made to me. Sargeant Lewis rubs his chin before speaking. “Well, the matted grass isn’t really conclusive. I’m sure the Coroner will have something to say about the loss of blood and cause of death. We’ll let the experts tell us what happened. The photographer walks by us. “All yours Sarge.” The Sargeant nods then turns back to us. “We’re going to take the body to get it autopsied. Before that, I want you tell me if you recognize the deceased. He pulls the yellow tape up and lets us into the secured area of the yard. The EMTs are loading the gurney with the cloth covered body onto the ambulance. The Sargeant pulls the cloth down to reveal the face Niles.

My jaw drops. Nile’s eyes narrow to mere slits, his mouth a thin line. He peers at the body. His one eyebrow goes up. “Interesting.”

“Is he a relative?” The Sargeant asks. “He looks like your brother.”

“I have no brothers–or sisters.”

“Are you sure?” I recover from the surprise.

“Certainly. I know him. It’s me. Well, a younger version of me, that is. Note the small birthmark on the left side of the neck.” One hand points to the body on the gurney, his other hand the spot on his neck.”

My mind scrambles to make sense of this announcement. “You? How is that possible? What were you–he doing here? Who killed him?”

“Good questions all. I have some studying to do.” Niles turns and marches toward the back door of the small house. He turns back at the porch. “Oh, and Watson, see if you can find out if there were any reports of him–me in the area last night.”

“My name is Katelyn,” I grumble.

§ - EVIDENCE -

“Well, what did you discover?” Niles asks the next morning.

“One of the home security cameras across the street at the convenience store picked up the murder. Unfortunately, the video is grainy and I couldn’t make out much about the killer. It was definitely a murder. I’m surprised the police haven’t checked around for home survellaince.”

“They’ll get around to it, I’m sure. Too bad about the video quality. What can you tell me about the murderer?”

“Well it was a man. About 5’7” judging by the size of you–your–the victim,” I stumble.

“So, an inch shorter than me.” I relax as Niles ignores my slip. “Clothes? Anything unique about him?”

“No. It was hard making out any details. Just jeans and a t-shirt from what I could tell.” Niles nods. I pause as I replay the video in my mind. “Wait! There was something. He walked with a limp. He was favoring his left leg. I’m sure of it.” Niles drops into the plush arm chair and lights his pipe. He takes several puffs, deep in thought as he stares at the wisps of smoke curl their way toward the ceiling. He looks at me. “How was the murder committed?”

“He used the rock. The victim was walking across the yard toward the front door. The murderer came into the frame from the left and grabbed the white rock with the blood stains on it. He bludgeoned the victim before the victim even had a chance to turn around. You were right about death being instantaneous. He just collapsed onto his face right there and then.” I didn’t bother mentioning the fact that Niles was wrong about how the rock had gotten blood on it.

Niles sprung up from the chair and pushed his walker over to the front door. “Come, Watson! We must confront the perpetrator.”

“You know who did it?”

“Of course.”

§ - Randolf Blakeslee -

We stand a few doors in front of a house two doors down from Nile’s. I had followed Niles, trying to get him to tell me who he thought had killed his doppelgänger, but the old man had remained silent. Now, he pounded on the door.

“I–I think you should call the police if you think you know who did it.”

Niles turns to me. “Of course I know. Have you ever known me to be wrong?” I remained silent. My friend had always idolized Sherlock Holmes to the point of taking on the persona as part of his onset dimentia, but had never had to deal with a real murder. “What if you’re wrong?”

Before Niles could respond, the door swung open under his fist. The face of the man who opened the door flashed through a spectrum of emotions. Anger at the pounding on his door gave way to shock then to controlled annoyance. “Well, what do you want Jewell?”

Niles Jewell stood a moment trying to comprehend the question. “Holmes. Sherlock Holmes. You must have me confused with someone else. You sir are Randolf Blakeslee, are you not?”

The house owner’s expression turned to anger. “What are you going on about? Of course I’m Randolf Blakeslee. You know who I am. Now why are you pounding on my door?”

“We are investigating a murder,” Niles announced. Randolf’s expression doesn’t change. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“No. Of course not. Why would you think I would?”

“No need to get bent out of shape. I was just wondering if you had, by chance, seen anything unusual over the past twenty four hours.”

“No. I was busy with my practice.”

“Ah, yes. Your violin practice. Well, sorry to have bothered you. We must keep looking.”

The door slams in our face.

“Not a friendly neighbor, is he?” I ask rhetorically.

“He is our murderer–or at least my doppelgänger’s. Did you notice he didn’t ask why we were asking around? That’s something the police would be doing. He wasn’t a bit surprised except when he first saw me.”

“Yes, I did notice that. He covered it well, however.”

“Not well enough, Watson. He is our killer. I’m sure of it. Now the problem is, how to prove it to the satisfaction of the Yard. Let’s get back to the scene of the crime.” Niles peers up at the sky. “A storm is coming and I want to check the site for clues before they are washed away.

§ - NEW CLUE -

“Look here, Watson.” I cringe at Nile’s call. I should be used to his idosynchrosies by now. I walk over to stand by his walker. He’s pointing to a small object laying among the blades of tall grass. “See what is is, would you?”

I kneel down and retrieve the thing Niles has spotted. I hand it to Niles who stands with hand outstretched.

“Ah. Interesting. This appears to be button.”

“It is a button.” I know he means well, but the poor soul does have a way of stating the obvious. “From a man’s shirt,” I add so as not to sound condescending.

Niles nods. “That it is. That’s why I so enjoy your companionship. You have a knack for stating the obvious.” I flinch. Was he reading my mind? “When you get a chance, could you use your computer thing and see if I have any relatives I may not be aware of. Also, stop by the Yard and see if they have been able to identify the victim.” He moves toward the door to his home.

“Wait!” I call. “I have an idea. Can I take a blood sample from you?”

His eyebrow goes up. “Why?”

“I want to see if your blood matches the blood of the victim. That would prove definitively if you two are related. I can also get a DNA sequence comparison done.”

“That would be [something]. But I assure you we are not related. I have no living relatives.”

“None that you know of,” I correct.

§ - EVIDENCE -

The next day I find Niles rummaging through his neighbor’s garbage. “What in the world are you doing?”, I ask.

Niles looks up from his messy task. “Ah, Watson. I’m looking for evidence.”

“Have you found any? I came by to tell you what I’ve discovered.”

“No. Nothing yet. Give me a minute, won’t you?” He dives head-first into the recycling bin. Grunting and scraping sounds accompany the rocking back and forth of the large plastic bin. A moment later, Niles emerges with a stray piece of paper stuck to his shirt and a triumphant grin on his face. He drops back to the pavement and grasps his walker. His breath is fast and shallow. Despite his expression, he looks tired and older than I’ve ever seen him. He holds a cloth aloft in his bony fist the way a soldier would display a won banner or trophy. “Here! Here it is! This is the shirt. Note the blood stains. Note the missing button,” he pants, then adds, “We have the proof.”

“Are you OK?” I walk up to my friend as he seems to collapse into himself against the walker. “Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

“No. No,” he waves me off. “I’m fine. Watson, we have the proof.”

“Yes, yes. Let me get you safely back to your house and we can discuss what you found while you rest. You don’t look well.” I follow behind Niles as he maneuvers his walker back to his house. His pace is slower than before. His exertions in the bin have taken their toll.

§ - DISCOVERY -

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the ER?” I had insisted Niles go back to his bed. He’d grumbled and argued, but was too exhausted to put up any fight beyond that.

“I’m certain. Stop babying me. I’m old enough to be your father.”

“Grandfather,” I correct.

“So what did you find out?” I hesitated. I wasn’t sure he’d take the news given his condition. “Well? Don’t keep me waiting. What did you find out?”

“Well, the autopsy revealed what we thought. Death was almost instantaneous due to his brain being crushed from the blunt-force trauma.”

Niles nods as he takes in the information. “Anything else? Come on, Watson, I know you well enough to know when you’re holding something back.”

I sigh. I’m glad he’s already lying down. “Very well. The DNA analysis of your blood and the victims came back a positive match.”

“Meaning?”

“It means you and he are related. He isn’t you, of course. But he’s a very close relative.”

“A brother?” Nile’s eyebrow shoots up.

I shake my head. “Probably not. Probably more like a son.”

The other eyebrow shoots up. “Son? Are you sure?”

“As sure as a DNA analysis can be. There’s always a large margin for error, but the sequences have a lot of matching base pairs. Pretty much half.” \[NEED TO RESEARCH THIS]

Nile’s face droops. He lays on his bed silent. I worry the shock may have been too much for him, but then he whispers to quiet to hear.

“I’m sorry, what?” I prompt.

He looks back up at me and shakes his head. “Nothing. I was just remembering.” He makes a concerted effort to compose himself in the bed, then begins, “Thirty-five years ago I met a woman. She was the most amazing creature I’d ever met. We fell in love. Nature–uh–took it’s course, shall we say.” His voice drops. “Things didn’t work out between us, and we lost touch. I–I’d forgotten about her. Maybe I wanted to.” His voice is sad and what energy he had seems to leave him. A broken and deflated man lies on the bed in front of me.

I put a hand on his arm. “That’s ok. I now this is a lot to take in. Try to get some sleep and rest. I’ll check in on you tomorrow to make sure you’re doing ok. Do you need anything before I go?” He shakes his head, but says nothing.

§ - PLANS -

The next morning I walked over to Nile’s house to find him in the kitchen cooking his breakfast. “Ah, Watson. Perfect timing. Care for a spot of tea?”

“Why are you out of bed? You probably should be taking care of yourself.”

“Coffee it is then.” He pours a cup and places it in front of me on the kitchen table. “As to my taking care of myself, I do my best work when I am busy and active. Laying about in bed all day will kill me as sure as a bullet might, just a bit slower I would think. And before you ask, I admit hearing I have a son was a bit of a shock, but that’s all in the past now. Literally, and figuratively. What matters now is that we tie my son’s death to Randolf Blakeslee. I have a good start on that with his shirt.” He points to the item in question that was tossed haphazardly over a stool. “The missing button matches the one we found in the yard. The fact the shirt is still stained with dried blood is definitive proof. I imagine Randolf Blakeslee, realizing that blood was difficult to clean, decided to toss the incriminating item out.”

“Well, if we have proof why don’t you call the Pol–err–the Yard?”

“Because as you should realize, the missing button is not enough. He will merely claim he lost it in a previous visit to my house.”

“And the blood?”

Niles ponders a long moment as he sips tea from his cup. “That would be more difficult to explain away. He might claim the shirt was stolen and used by someone else. No, Watson, we need to more directly tie Mr. Blakeslee and bring him to justice.”

“And what about the motive? Don’t the police need a motive?”

“That they do. And that, as the saying goes, is the gist of it all. I have no inkling of one, but I am sure one will become obvious.”

“And how do we do that?” I sip the coffee. I grimace. It’s instant.

“We get Mr. Blakeslee to confess, of course.”

§ - FAMILY -

I followed Niles out to his yard–the crime scene. The yellow tape had been removed the prior evening and although most of the indications of the murder were gone, the ground and grass were still discolored despite the rains overnight. The blemished stone had been removed by the police during the original investigation as evidence, and a brown muddy pool was the only indication that it had ever been there.

“We need to determine Randolf Blakeslee’s motive. The question is how?”

“Niles, I just had a strange thought.” I kicked myself for not having realized this earlier. “What if the murderer wasn’t after your son. What if they confused him for you.” I peer at Niles. “After all, you two do look alike.”

Niles’ eyebrows shoot up. “I hadn’t thought of that. Good show, Watson. I have to consider what this does to my theory.” He sits down at the kitchen table and holds the tea cup between his hands. He peers into the liquid as if reading the tea leaves. I knew better than to interrupt his reverie. Having done so once before had led to an angry outburst and a spate of sailor-like talk. A minute or two later he looks up. “It matters nothing.”

“What?”

“The fact that the murderer accidentally killed my son instead of me, doesn’t change the clues my deductions. It doesn’t change the motive, the circumstances, or the evidence. All of those are indisputable facts. The only thing that changes is the victim. The fact the murderer mistook him for me is of no import–except of course to my son.”

“Aren’t you at all upset about not having met your son and then losing him?”

“Nonsense. I didn’t know I had a son until a day ago. Before that I didn’t have a son. Now that he’s dead, I don’t have a son. So there is no difference either way. A difference that doesn’t make a difference is no difference.”

“I think I’d be very upset. After all, he’s family.”

“You’re being overly sentimental, Watson. What matters is bringing his murderer to justice. That’s the only thing I want to see done. Not because he’s my son, mind you, but because it is the lawful, and honorable thing do do.”

I sat and sipped the coffee I couldn’t taste as I tried to make sense of the old man across the table from me. “What if the murderer comes after you, if they find out they killed the wrong person?”

“I’m sure they already now. The look of surprise on Randolf Blakeslee’s face told the tale. The next step will be for us to get Blakeslee to admit to the crime. In order to do that we will need the help of Inspector Lestrade.” My mind took a moment to translate Inspector Lestrade to Sargeant Lewis.

“Why?”

“An admission of guilt to an officer of the law will more easily stand up in a court of law.”

“Oh. And how do you plan on getting this admission of guilt?”

“Not me, Watson. You.”

§ - THE PLAN -

I hadn’t planned, or wanted to be part of Niles’ plan, but it didn’t sound dangerous, and with the Sargeant present, I felt safe enough. I had reluctantly given in to Niles’ plea for my help. I didn’t want to see the old man injured or closer to a total collapse from exhaustion and exertion. I stood in front of Randolf Blakeslee’s front door. My hands were sweating and my heart was racing. I glanced to my right where Sargeant Lewis stood behind the cascade of a willow tree; close enough to hear but out of the way enough not to be seen from the front door. I took a deep breath and knocked.

The door swung open and Blakeslee peered down at me. “Well, what do you want?”, he barked. “I’m busy.”

I took a deep breath. “I–I just want to apologize for my friend’s behavior the other day.” I waited for a response, there was none. “He shouldn’t have bothered you and accused you.” I gulped. “Niles means well, but he’s not altogether here, if you know what I mean.” Blakeslee grunts an affirmative. “Anyway, I just wanted to apologize on his behalf.”

Blakeslee’s demeanor softens from anger and annoyance to just annoyance. “He’s an idiot. And crazy. He’s a crazy idiot. Your apology is accepted. But if he ever comes around looking for so-called clues again, I’ll call the cops on him.”

“I understand and will pass that on to him.”

I turn to leave but Blakeslee says, “And tell him to get rid of those stupid rocks. Those abominations belong in the 1960s with him. They bring the value of the entire neighborhood down. Property values are important, you know.”

I blink. “I’ll tell him.” I turn and take a few steps from the door, and spot the Sargeant still behind the tree. I turn back to Blakeslee. “Oh, and one more thing… Niles probably won’t bother you again. He told me he knows who the killer is and he has enough evidence to convict him.”

Blakeslee blinks. “Who was it–the murderer I mean?”

“I don’t know,” I lied, “he didn’t tell me.”

There is a pause. “Well whoever it is deserves what’s coming to him.”

I fish in my pocket. “Oh, one other thing.” I produce the button from Niles’ front yard. I hold it out to Blakeslee. “You didn’t happen to lose a button, did you?”

He peers at the round bit of plastic in my palm and flinches, but recovers quickly. “No, sorry. I don’t like buttons.” He points to the zipper on the sweatshirt he wears. “Where did you find it?”, he probes.

“Oh, Niles found it in his front yard.”

“And what makes you think it belongs to me–not that it does?”

I shrug. “Niles says its not his, and wanted me to ask you in case you were around the yard and lost it somehow.”

“No. I told you. It’s not mine. Now go away. I’m busy.” He prepares to slam the door. “And tell your friend Niles that I want him to stay away from me. It’s bad enough a crazy person like him lives in this neighborhood without having him accuse people fo murder.” The door slams.

“Well, that wasn’t very productive, was it?” Sargeant Lewis observes as he joins me on the sidewalk. “I told you he wouldn’t up and admit to a murder just because you show him a silly button.”

I nod. I–we didn’t expect he would. We just wanted you around in case he did something drastic like attack me–or confess.”

We walk down the street to the patrol car that is parked beyond the view of Blakeslee’s home “Well, my lunch break is over. Tell Niles he should go through proper channels the next time he needs our help.” Lewis takes a few steps toward the car. “Oh, one more thing… are you married?”

“Nope.”

Lewis grins, then hops into his patrol car.

§ - THE TRAP -

A few minutes later I’m back at Nile’s kitchen table. Niles is mulling the events I had just recounted to him. I ask, “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

“Of course. Why would I waste my time following the clues to their logical conclusion otherwise?”

“You’ll be in danger.” Without saying a word, Niles gets up and walks over to a cabinet. He pulls a drawer open and removes a small caliber pistol. “I didn’t know you had a gun!” I exclaim in surprise.

“I don’t like using it. It’s only for self-defense.”

“Have you ever used it?”

“No. And I hope I never have to. But better safe than sorry, as the saying goes.”

I feel uneasy and \_\_\_\_ “Why don’t you let the police handle it? Why do you need to get involved?”

“Because I am. Because my son was murdered.” His expression is serious and determined, more than I’d ever seen. He sees the concern on my face and the expression softens. “Don’t worry, Watson. I’ll be fine.” He pauses. “But if anything should happen to me, know that you are my dearest and most trusted friend.”

I watch as he turns to head upstairs to his bedroom. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay here–just in case?”

“No. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. You know your way out. Make sure you leave the door unlocked when you leave.”

I grimace. I hated the plan. It was crazy to think this old man could actually pull off this more crazy plan. I glanced at my watch. It was almost 8 P. M. Niles pulls his way up the steps to the second walker he kept by the steps. I sit and wait until I hear him enter the bedroom, then leave his home. He may not want me to help, but that doesn’t mean I can’t or won’t. I leave the front door unlocked–he’d never forgive me if I disappointed him. I then make a call to Sargeant Lewis.

§ - THE CONFRONTATION -

Two hours later, I’m back at Niles house. The front door stands open. My body tightens as my nerves fire on all cylinders and my heart and breathing begins to race. I rush into the house, Sargeant Lewis close on my heels. He tries to restrain me, but I push him out of the way and run into the dark home. I flip the light switch expecting to see Niles body lying in a pool of blood, but the kitchen and small living area are neat and I disturbed. The Sargeant enters after me, with his pistol drawn. He sees everything is in order, but doesn’t relax. I bound to the stairs, but Lewis blocks my way.

“Hold it. If there’s someone in the house that isn’t supposed to be here, you don’t want to be running into them. I’ll go up first.” he whispers. “I’ll let you know if it’s safe to come up.”

“No. I want to go up. He’s my friend. Besides, what if whoever broke in is still here?” I indicate the first floor with a sweep of my hand.

“Ok, but stay behind me–several paces. And if I tell you to run, you run. Got it?”

I nod. We walk up the steps, slower than I would want to, with me several steps behind the Sargeant. He pauses at the top of the staircase and scans the area. He moves toward Niles room. I follow. He motions me to the side of the bedroom door. I’d seen enough TV cop shows to know what to expect. He positions himself on the opposite side of the door from me. He crouches, and tries the doorknob. He pushes the door open. There is darkness inside, and no sound or motion. Sargeant Lewis moves through the doorway in a crouch, his pistol sweeping the room. I see him reach for the light switch while still maintaining his focus on the room. The light comes on and I watch as the officer quickly sweeps the room then stands slowly. “Stay there,” he commands in a horse whisper. He disappears from sight for what seems like several minutes. He reappears. “He’s hurt,” he says in his normal volume. “Call 911.” I run into the room and spot Niles splayed out on the floor. I gasp. There’s a pool of blood that seeps into the carpet around him. “I told you to call 911.”

My eyes are frozen on Niles’ body. I fumble and pull my cell phone out of my pocket. Somehow, I manage to dial emergency services. I join the officer next to Niles’.

“Is he dead?”

“No. He’s alive, but his pulse is weak.” The Sargeant removes his hand from Niles’ neck. “Don’t touch anything in the room. We’ll want to check for evidence.”

“He was shot, wasn’t he? He had a gun.”

The Sargeant looks at me. “Yes, that’s a small caliber bullet hole in his chest. Do you know the type?”

“Yes. It was a small caliber.” The sound of the ambulance arriving draws our attention. A few moments later the EMTs have rolled the unconscious Niles away on a gurney. I want to go with them, but know I can’t do anything to help find the assailant if I do. I return to Niles bedroom where I find Sargeant Lewis searching under the bed.

“What are you looking for?” I ask.

His head pops up. “The gun. It has to be here somewhere. Also, for any other clues.” He gets up off the floor and feels under the large wooden beaurau that stands against one of the walls. “Hello, what this?” He pulls a small object from under the beuarau. I stare at the small cloth mouse.

“It looks like a toy.”

“A cat toy to be precise.” Lewis turns to me. “Does he have a cat?”

I shake my head confused, “No. I don’t think he ever had. He considered cats too informal. Now why would he have a cat toy?”

The Sargeant shakes his head. “Don’t know. But I’m sure it’s a clue. Maybe the assailant dropped it in the struggle.

§ - THE FIGHT -

Niles was startled awake to find the assailant standing over him in his bed, with a pillow between his hands. Niles groped for the gun under his pillow and managed to pull it forward just as the pillow slammed into his face. The shock of the impact forced the gun out of his hand before he could fire a shot. The pressure of the pillow on his mouth and nose increased. Niles fought to breathe as the panic slammed into him the way the pillow had. His hands flew to the pillow instinctively. He fought to pry it from his face as his assailant cursed and yelled. The pillow remained firmly seated on his face despite his best efforts. He brought his knees up but the quilted blanket under which he slept made any impact minimal. He continued to thrash with his legs and knees hoping for a lucky blow. His breath continued to escape. Fresh oxygen was harder to come by. Frantic to breathe, Niles rolled over onto his side. Precious oxygen flowed into him as the pillow was unable to create a complete seal with his face. He gasped. The air revived his mind and energy. He released his hold on the pillow and groped for his assailant’s face. He scratched at the man who cursed then screamed in pain as Niles’ fingernails dug into the man’s neck. Niles dug deeper and the pressure on his body disappeared as the man rolled off of him. The pillow came off of his face. Niles shifted his hold on the man’s neck to his body and pushed him away with all his might. In the darkness, the man toppled off of the bed onto the floor.

Niles groped around on the bed for the pistol, but came up empty. His assailant recovered enough to yell, “I’m going to kill you Jewell. This time, I’m going to get it right. I’m tired of your superior and condescending attitude toward me and everyone in the neighborhood. I’m through with your stupid white rocks and you. Once I kill you we can all go back to our normal lives.” Niles yelped in surprise and fear as the pillow hit Niles in the face, but this time it bounced off it and fell to the bed. It took a moment to realize that he’d not been injured. Niles scrambled for the light switch. His hand toggled the nightstand lamp on. His eyes burned by the sudden brightness, but he scanned the bed for the gun. It wasn’t there. It must have fallen to the floor.

Niles scrambled out of the bed as quickly as his body and age allowed him. His walker stood on the opposite side, where Randolf Blakeslee stood, gun in hand. Niles’ panic turned to terror as he stared at his own weapon pointed at him. The small dark opening of the barrel appeared much larger than he remembered it.

“Hold it right there,” Blakeslee commanded. Niles freezes. His breath is shallow. His heart hammers against his chest. His eyes are held by the wavering gun in his neighbor’s hand. “You’ve caused me and this neighborhood enough grief.”

“Wha–what did I do ever do to you?” Niles voice cracks under the strain.

“You exist. Your going around in a bathrobe all day–even when outside. You’re not a two year old, you know. You keep going on about you being ‘The Great Sherlock Holmes’.” Blakeslee spits the title like a cobra spits venom. (? ) “You’re just an old stupid man with delusions. You should have been institutionalized a long time ago.” Blakeslee sweeps the gun across the room. “Look at this. Tell me who has a shag rug in their bedroom in 2018? Your stupid white rocks. I hate them–no I loathe them. Lined up along the perimeter like a platoon of soldiers. No one does that now. It wasn’t even cool back in the 60s. That’s your problem. You live in the past. You don’t even have internet, I hear.”

“I–I don’t need it.”

Blakeslee looks at him as if he were a creature from another planet. “Everyone needs the internet. Everyone has the internet.”

Niles’ response is as firm as his jaw. “I don’t.” He pauses to take a deep breath. “Now give me the gun, Randolf. You do’t want to do anything stupid. You’re in enough trouble murdering my son.”

“Your son? So that’s who that was. I thought it was you.” Blakeslee stands musing a moment. “Well, I don’t see adding a second murder would do more harm than one. I’ll be rid of you and your antiquated ways once and for all.”

Niles’ eyes fix on the gun barrel as Blakeslee raises it to point at Niles’ head. There is a maniacal triumphant grin on his neighbor’s face. Blakeslee squeezes the trigger. Niles stares, and gives one last silent prayer.

A click.

Niles reacts faster than he had been able to in the past thirty years. He throws himself across the twin bed at the gun. He slams into Blakeslee’s arm forcing it and the gun it still held away from him. Niles’ breath is forced out of his body as he hits the edge of the bed with his stomach. Blakeslee falls back against the wall. Pain racks Niles as he struggles to reach for the gun hand that now helps Blakeslee get his footing. Before he can, Niles fights the pain and lack of breath to scramble off the bed and lunge at his neighbor. The impact throws both of them against the wall. Niles grabs hold of the gun hand. The adrenaline surging through his body allow him to force the hand away from him despite the neighbors younger age and greater size. Niles’ vision blurs and turns red as he fights to keep from getting shot. Blakeslee roars and flings Niles away from him and onto the floor by the bed. Niles hits the rug with his back and groans in pain. He lies there, panting, his eyes wide and fixed on the gun that levels at him once more. Blakeslee’s breathing is fast, his teeth are set in skeletal grin. His eyes are slits of hate.

“Enough. You don’t know when you’re beaten. Well, let me tell you, you are beaten. I’ll kill you and they’ll think you killed yourself, or maybe a burglar broke in. Farewell Niles.”

A loud retort and something slams into Niles chest. He looks down and sees the red stain growing on his favorite robe.

§ - THE GOODBYE -

“So that’s what happened.” I explained to Sargeant Lewis. “Niles managed to tell me everything before he passed out again.” We were sitting in the ICU of the hospital. Niles lay unconscious in the white bed. Tubes and electrical leads were hooked to him. They chirped and beeped in time with his heart and breathing. I knew that as long as they did, he was alive.

Lewis indicates Niles with a tilt of his head. “What do the docs say? Is he going to make it?”

“Well the bullet is out, but it severed an artery (which one). For such a small bullet, it did a lot of damage. They say it depends on Niles. They’ve patched him up the best they can.” I pause. “I hope he makes it.”

Lewis takes a step toward the door. “I’ll check back later to see how you two are doing. I have to get back to work.” I return the smile. Mine is weak.

I take a seat on the chair next to Niles’ bed. His eyes are closed, his breathing labored despite the ventilator that assists him. The rhythm is normal, but I can tell he’s struggling. His skin is sallow. My eyes fill with tears. My heart feels like a cement truck has driven over it. I watch him lie there. We’d been friends from the first day I’d moved into the neighborhood. He’d come over and introduced himself. That was ten years ago. We were both much younger. The sounds in the room drowned out those in the rest of the ICU outside. I had been in enough of them now but I found it unsettling seeing a friend in one. We’d been told to disassociate from our patients, and it’s something I’d been able to do–until now.

A movement of a finger drew my attention. A moment later, his eyes fluttered open to a slit. He was conscious. His eyes darted from side to side as he made sense of where he was. They settled on me. I got up and put a hand on his.

“How are you?” I manage through my tears. He looks up at me with his blue eyes. There is a twinkle in them, but he’s too weak to move and the intubation makes it impossible for him to speak. “Don’t worry you’ll be ok.” He blinks an acknowledgment. “The police have gone over your house. They weren’t able to find the gun. Do you know where it is?” His eyes shift from side to side. I take that as a no. “How about a cat toy, do you know anything about it? We found one under your bureau.” His eyes open a smidge wider, then his eyes shift left and right. He tries to tilt his head but closes his eyes instead. “Don’t worry. It’s not important.” His eyes open. There is an intensity in the way he looks at me \[need to foreshadow this as meaning he has a clue or deduction. ]. “Yes, we know it’s a clue. We think the attacker dropped it, and probably took the gun.” His eyes scan up and down, a yes. I wasn’t sure he’d be able to answer, but I had to ask. “Do you know who it was?” Another scan up and down. “Was it Blakeslee?” Another scan. He tried to speak, but the tube made him struggle instead.

Startled, I put a hand on his shoulder. “Niles, don’t worry we’ll get him. Rest. Stop trying to speak.” Niles hand goes to mine. The O2 pump starts to gurgle. I run out of the room, yelling for help as I go. Two nurses and the doctor on call rush in the room. I try to go back in but one of them bars me and tells me to stay out of the way. I stand and watch helpless as the heart monitor breaks rhythm and takes on the monotone of flatline. The doctor yells for the paddles and a few moments later applies a convulsive shock to Niles’ chest. The tone continues. Another jolt. I watch in horror as Niles body rises then falls with the electricity. A nurse hands the doctor a syringe. He injects the IV line feeding Nile’s hand. There is still no sign of a heartbeat. My own is trying to burst out of my body and to fly to help Niles. Another application of the paddles produces no change. The doctor drops the paddles on the \[machine here] and stands looking down at Niles a long moment as the heart rate monitor wails its steady tone. He glances over at me. His face is dour.

I rush into the room and fling my arms around Niles. He is silent, unmoving, cold. The doctor places a hand on my shoulder. I ignore him as I cry a river on Niles’ chest. There is no heartbeat. “There was nothing else we could do. The bullet did a lot of damage to the artery.” He pulls his hand away as I look at him through tears and red eyes. “I–I’ll leave you along with him for a while. Take your time.” He turns and motions the nurses out of the room.

I don’t know how long I cried like that. I don’t know what I was feeling apart from a deep and lonely emptiness. Finally, when I had cried myself out, I sat on the lone chair and talked to him, even though I know he can’t hear me. “I’m sorry, Niles. I wish I hadn’t let you act like bait the way you did. But, you’re such a stubborn man. If I had stayed in the house, maybe I could have prevented this.” I sob through hiccoughs. “I promise I’ll get Blakeslee to pay for what he did. It’s two murders now. I promise your death won’t go unavenged.” I sigh as I stare at Niles who looks like he is sleeping. For an instant I imagine he’ll wake up and start telling me about his latest observations. I swallow. I know he won’t be waking. “You’re my best friend. I’m going to miss you, Sherlock.”

§ - END -

Sargeant Lewis and I stand in front of Randolf Blakeslee’s home. I pound on the door. “I wish you had let me handle this,” Lewis says.

“I need to see this through. I promised him, I would.”

Lewis nods. “I understand. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

Before I can respond, the door swings open. Blakeslee squints at us in the bright morning sun. “Well? What do you want?”

“Randolf Blakeslee, I have a search warrant.” Lewis produces the paper in question. “Please stand aside.” Lewis an the two officers he brought with him move past Blakeslee who stands with his mouth agape. I give Blakeslee a cold stare as I walk past him and into his home. The interior is small, smaller than Niles’ house. And, unlike my friend’s, this one is cluttered and disorganized. The living room is filled with \_\_\_. Blakeslee is a hoarder. The officers systematically go through the room shifting piles of \_\_ as they search. After several minutes of searching, Sargeant Lewis confronts Blakeslee who has been silently watching, his eyes darting from officer to officer as they go about their search. “You could save us all a lot of time and effort. Where is it?”

“Where is what?” Blakeslee replies staring as one of the officers goes toward a closed door.

“The gun you used to kill Niles Jewell and his son.”

Suddenly, Blakeslee lunges toward the officer who has his hand on the doorknob. “Stop! Don’t open that!”

Lewis’ eyebrows shoot up as he grabs Blakeslee by the shoulder. “Ah, so that’s where it is.” He nods to the officer who had stopped at Blakeslee’s yell. He turns the knob and pulls the door open.

The policeman’s face goes through a rapid spectrum of emotions. First, there is boredom, then surprise. This is quickly followed by confusion, disgust, then horror. His face turns green and he begins to retch. I stand next to Lewis and Blakeslee and wonder what could be so bad when it hits me.

The stench slams into me with the force of a brick wall propelled by a cement truck. I stagger back as I try to keep my stomach from trying to escape my body by way of my mouth. I rush out the front door and am quickly followed by Blakeslee and the officers. We all bend double and either vomit on the lawn or try to gather our breath and wits.

“What–what is that smell?” Lewis finally manages to blurt between gasps of fresh air.

“I told you not to open that door.” Blakeslee appears to be in distress, but not as much as the rest of us.

“It–it–“, the officer who had opened the door stammers. “It’s a giant cat litter box. The entire floor is covered in sand and cat fecal matter. Even though the window was open a crack. I guess that’s for letting the cats in and out.” He promptly retches again. This time, I join him.

§ - CONCLUSION -

A day later an abatement team showed up in protective gear to clear out the small room that had been converted into the world’s largest litter box. The officers went back in and an hour later came out with a baggie whose contents I could not make out. Sargeant Lewis walks over to me. “We got him. We found the gun in a drawer by the bed.” He shakes his head. “How stupid can you be, not getting rid of it, or even hiding it?” Randolf Blakeslee who stood outside by the front door, seeing the gun in the baggie makes a dash past me in an attempt to escape before the police arrest him. I dive at the man. We crash to the grass. I hear his breath rush out of him as he hits. He recovers before I do. His eyes are wide, and he has the look of a trapped animal. He tries to hurdle over me but I instinctively fling a hand up to protect myself. My hand closes on his ankle and he loses his balance and topples to the ground.

Lewis recovers from his surprise and grabs by an arm that he bends behind Blakeslee’s back. With a practiced motion, he cuffs one hand and then the other as Blakeslee struggles to free himself.

§ - END -

A week later Niles was buried. It was either providence or coincidence, that Blakeslee was sentenced that same afternoon. I attended both events. Sherlock had trapped the murderer at the cost of his own life. To me, Niles would always be Sherlock Holmes, and I, his Watson.

-END-

The Game Is Afoot - Sprinting

I’m going to do something I haven’t done before. I’m going to share a first draft. I’ve finished the short story that I threw together mostly to test and verify the sprint tracking code in my app. That works great. But that’s not the point of this post.

I’m posting the first draft of “The Game Is Afoot” because I want to show you that first drafts, as the saying goes, are crap. They have spelling and grammar mistakes, they barely hold together as a story, and have plot holes large enough through which you could pilot a Star Destroyer. If you’re new to writing, you may find this enlightening. First drafts are never perfect, and first drafts rarely see the light of day. What a reader sees is the result of the hard work of rewriting and editing. Each succeeding draft will approach something that is presentable, but yet, not perfect.

Why not strive for perfection during the first draft instead of wasting time and effort on multiple drafts? The simple answer is that most writers don’t know what the story is during the first draft. Oh, they may have an idea, or perhaps a multi page outline, but once you start writing you can’t predict where the characters and story will go. A map is not the trip or its destination.

The purpose of a first draft is to get the story on paper and to be crap.

Reread the last line until you understand it, absorb it, and accept it.

Get the story out as quickly as you can, so you don’t lose it. That’s the point. I’ve known this for years. So what did I learn that is new doing sprints for the first time?

- I need to have a story idea.

- I need to have an ending in mind. If I don’t know where I’m going I don’t know where I am.

- I need an antagonist. This is what drives the conflict.

- I need to have an idea of the main scenes (the overall arc). If I don’t, I spend time thinking and not writing

- I need to get the story out as quickly as possible. I find writing sprints let me do that.

- It will be crap.

I spent more time thinking about what I was going to write during my sprints than actually writing. I’m a pantser for the most part and sprints are a new way of working and thinking for me. I like that sprints force me to do more up-front planning and thinking. They let me focus on writing which allows me to produce more words than pure “pantsing”.

The next post will be the actual first draft of  “The Game is Afoot”.

Sprinting

I’ve begun using my app to do writing sprints. I’m not only doing writing sprints for the first time in my life, but I am also giving my logic a real-world test. The good news is I’m writing again and am enjoying writing sprints even though I hate writing to a deadline.

In the beginning, I thought a sprint was just a mini-deadline. It isn’t. It’s a way to reduce or eliminate distractions in a small chunk of time. Managing distractions while you write allows you to focus, but I need distractions to come up with ideas and to be creative. I’m finding a sprint gives me a distraction-free amount of time and this is followed by a distraction-filled time in which to think and create. I find it is a nice way to manage my writing time.

I started small with five-minute sprints and only a couple a day. I’ve gradually increased the duration of my sprints to 15 minutes, and today I’ll go to the maximum of 20 minutes. Anything longer than 20 minutes isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon. The first couple of sprints were difficult because I discovered I was spending a lot of time thinking about the plot and what I would write instead of writing. This told me I didn’t have my story thought out in enough detail to allow me to just write it. I spent some time working out the main plot points and since then the writing has come more freely, and my words per hour has steadily gone up. 



I’m only doing one or two sprints per day. I’ve been taking it slow to get into the habit of using them and to review issues with the code logic in my app. I’m seeing my motivation to write going up (despite what else is going on in the world) so I will do more sprints per day, but I’ll keep the number fairly low so as not to burn out. Writing using sprints takes more energy than just sitting down to write since it is a more focused activity.


At this point I’m over 1800 words per hour. Here is a graph of my WPH per sprint.

I recommend writing sprints as a way to manage your time and distractions, and to motivate you to write.

I haven’t done much writing this year. There, I’ve admitted it. With the virus, voluntary self-isolation, and all the unrest it has been difficult for me to focus and to be creative. I’ve planned, I’ve edited, I’ve done free-writing, but I have not been able to motivate myself to do any real work on my works-in-progress. Yes, I said works.

I have been reading a series of short books by Chris Fox (http: //chrisfoxwrites. com). One, 5,000 Words An Hour recommends continuous word sprints as a means to increase your word count. I’m familiar with word sprints, but I’ve never done or participated in one. I hate deadlines. But, given the lack of wordage, I decided to give sprints a try.

There was a problem. The app, which Chris Fox created, to track sprints wasn’t available and he, in one of his videos, dissuades you from using it. What to do? I like apps. I have my own writing app. I decided to build sprint tracking into my own app. Great idea! There was another problem. I tend to write longhand (with a fountain pen) and then transcribe my writing into my app. How do I track typing sprints and handwritten sprints? I decided to also add a way to track “external” (to my app) sprints. I’ve spent the last week or so getting the functionality, uh, functional.

Now, I can start doing my own sprints and see if I can get close to Chris’  5K words an hour or 834 words a minute. My top typing speed is about 60 words per minute, so my personal maximum is 3.6K per hour. [Note: Chris suggests using dictation, a speech to text app, to hit the goal. I hate writing that way. ] Also, 3.6K per hour isn’t sustainable. I’ll be happy with 3K per hour.

If you’re interested here are some screenshots of my app’s sprint tracking:

- Starting a sprint.

- Sprint complete.

- Sprint review.

- Logging an external sprint.

I’m also considering creating a standalone sprint tracking app.
So, I’ve got some motivation now by way of sprints. I’ll post on here a couple of times to update you on how I’m doing toward my goal.

Mystery Tropes

I’m still brainstorming ideas for my Holmesian story. I decided to spend some time making notes about the various tropes one finds in a typical mystery. It isn’t a mystery unless you have some basics covered beyond clues and a reveal. This is what I came up with in no particular order.

⁃ Bad weather
⁃ Red herrings
⁃ Alibi - a suspect provides an alibi. A lot of times this alibi is disproved by the detective.
⁃ Underestimated character turns out to be the killer.
⁃ A letter, sometimes blood stained that holds a clue but for some reason cannot be read in its entirety.
⁃ A clock - sometimes there is a clock that incriminates the killer.
⁃ Clue on a mirror - in lipstick or sometimes written with a finger and can only be seen with condensation.
⁃ The killer pretends to have a disability.
⁃ The killer may have a lair if they are evil enough.
⁃ Evil plans
⁃ The murderer is known but not disclosed until the end.
⁃ Secret societies
⁃ Multiple murders
⁃ Suspects in a room - all the suspects are brought together in a room at the disclose.
⁃ Old dark houses.
⁃ False clues
⁃ Stakeouts
⁃ Summation
⁃ Twist endings
⁃ [Bumbling] sidekick


I probably won’t use all of these, but this list gives me ideas.

Brainstorming Sherlock Holmes

For years I’ve wanted to write a Sherlock Holmes story. I’ve always believed I’m not good/clever enough to write a Sherlock Holmes story. I’ve decided to write one.

It all started with a #throwawayline tweet I posted a few weeks ago: “Sherlock Holmes and The Case of the Burning Broomsticks”. It was just a title and I threw it out because I liked the sound of it and because it was a play on Harry Potter titles. I thought no more of it for several weeks.

However, I kept being nagged by a desire to write a Holmesian story. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the title. Self-doubt kept me from proceeding until yesterday. I decided I may not do a proper job, but I wanted to try. I’ve committed to write the story.

This morning, I woke up at 3 A.M. As I lay in bed trying to fall back asleep my mind pummeled me with plot, character, and dialogue ideas. Several hours later, I got out of bed and decided to share my thought and writing process for this project.

First things first, I needed to capture my morning brainstorm before I lost the ideas. I pulled out a new notebook. I keep each project in one or more notebooks dedicated to the project. Yes, I write everything longhand (using a fountain pen) and then transcribe what I’ve written into my app. Writing my hand, for me, is relaxing, helps me focus on my writing, and has a rhythm to it. Typing is faster, but that is the problem. Typing introduces errors, and is more fragmented. The slower pace of handwriting allows me to form more coherent sentences.

So here are the key notes I made this morning. I’ve left out various minor bits, and diversions in thought.

Sherlock Holmes and The Case of the Burning Broomsticks

Sherlock Holmes Tropes

- Holmes - detached, habits, smart, addict, smug, analytical, violin, disguises, logical, untidy, chases, final confrontation, reveal. 221 E Baker St.

- Watson - doctor/surgeon, helpful, bumbling on occasion, foil, 1st person narrator, mustache, strong, astute, honorable

- Inspector Lestrade - Scotland Yard, abrasive to Holmes, good policeman, working-class, dresses well, well-spoken, tenacious.

- Mrs. Hudson - Holmes’ housekeeper, good cook, puts up with Holmes’ strange behavior and experiments.

- Mycroft Holmes - SH brother. Stays at his club. More brilliant than SH. Sedentary, problem-solver, works for British Government, massive build.

- Professor James Moriarty - SH antagonist, genius, Machiavellian, evil.

- Baker Street Irregulars - group of “urchins” who run errands for SH

Other Characters:

- Murder victim.

- Antagonist: Moriarty?

- Three witches

Random Idea:s “The Case of the Burning Broomsticks”

- SH vs. witches.

- British witches. -> Macbeth -> Shakespearean -> 3 witches

- What if SH had to solve Arthur Conan Doyle’s [ACD] murder?

- What if someone is killed by the witches by being impaled by a broom?

- How? Flying broom–in flames.

- How would a broom fly?

- - Rocket engine?

- - Ballista? (Large crossbow)?

- SH needs a nemesis greater than Moriarty.

- Who? Witches?

- Electricity!

- - Brooms propelled by electricity/magnetism.

- - Projectiles have to be metal and only look like brooms. No burning?

- Who in that timeframe would be intelligent enough and devious enough to come up with magnetically propelled projectiles and be devious, evil, and smarter than SH?

- THIS IS WHERE MY IDEAS WENT OFF THE RAILS! In a good way. [I won’t spoil it here].

- A body is found impaled by a metal broomstick.

- The body is that of a visiting cowboy.

- Lestrade finds a knife and lock pick on the body and believes the man is a thief.

- Lestrade also finds bits of metal on the body.

- SH pieces the bits of metal together and discovers/reveals that the victim is actually Arthur Conan Doyle.

I have enough for the first chapter…

Turmoil

The world is in turmoil.
Our lives are in turmoil.

Many of us are in self-isolation. We now have a lot more free time. We can use that time to whip that short story into shape, or to work on that novel you had planned but not started. You have more time to write. You sit down–and nothing.  

That’s what happened to me. I sat down to write–and nothing. I’ve worked from home before. What was going on? Then it hit me. I do most of my writing in public places. I feed off the energy and get character and story ideas. That is all gone now. Also, unpleasant news is bombarding us daily.   Plus, all the normal distractions at home make writing more difficult.

You don’t have writer’s block.  
You have life block.

What to do? If you’re like me and like to write in public, create an environment at home that mimics what you are used to. Turn on the TV,  radio, listen to music, sounds, voices, just don’t listen to the news full-time. If you write while eating, keep a reign on both or you’ll end up eating full time to write. Set the right level of turmoil.

If too much turmoil causes you to have problems writing, reduce the turmoil. Tell your kids and significant other you are at work and shouldn’t disturb you. This probably won’t help much, but you’ve set expectations and you can work to enforce them. Find a quiet, and more isolated, spot in your house from which to work. Close the door, if there is one. Turn off the phone. Turn off the news.

If you need energy to write, increase it.
If you need peace to write, increase it.

That’s often easier said than done. It may be better, and healthier, if you stop trying, if you can’t break through the block. Spend time with your family. You have the time you said you didn’t have. And you are all together. Quality time with those you love is worth more than your writing.  

Also, don’t let yourself be bombarded by all the news. Just because we have 24x7 news stations, doesn’t mean you have to listen to them all day. You need to limit stressors, like news, arguments, etc. The world may seem to be falling apart–it isn’t. It will survive. You will survive. Just don’t do stupid things.

Just like a writer’s block will pass.
A life block will pass.

Word up!

NaNoWriMo - 2019 - Done

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you who partake of the turkey.

Ten years straight, ten years a winner. I finished yesterday. In retrospect, most of the stuff I added, although interesting, doesn’t add much to the core story I have. I will toss out most of what I wrote after I hit 30K and keep the story as a novella. That’s fine. One thing I don’t want to do is force a good story into a bad novel. 

I’ll start editing late next year. My focus until then will be to finish the satire I’m writing. I also want to edit and publish the noir I wrote last year. A book of short stories is waiting for rework and editing. 

The next thing I want to write is something stupid, meaningless, and funny. I’ve been writing dark (for me) stuff of late. I need a break. 

Of course, I have next year’s NaNoWriMo to look forward to. I have no idea what it will be. That’s fine.

If you are still writing your NaNoWriMo, keep at it. It may not be great. It may not be what you meant to write. But, you will have written it. That means something.


Word up!

Plot Holes And Pacing

It’s Day 17. I’m over 31K words. I’m taking the day off because I deserve it. I finished my story, not that I have finished (won) NaNoWriMo. The core story is done, as is the first draft, but I have many plot holes and issues I need to deal with.

What’s a plot hole? A “plot hole” is information that the reader needs that is missing from the plot, a hole in the plot. But you already knew that. The more interesting question is, why do plot holes exist and where do they come from?  Here are my thoughts:

Plot holes come into being when you write a story:

1. that you have not thought or researched through enough. This amounts to your planning or thought processes itself having holes. 

2. and it veers away from your original story and you end up with information that you never explained in your original text.

3. and during editing, you remove passages your story requires.

In my case I finished my story, but it’s not the story I set out to write. My plot holes result from the second item on my list.  Since I’m only at 31K words, I can go back and fill the plot holes while increasing the word count. Filling plot holes, is not the same thing as padding the word count. I have a lot of plot holes.

My story uses two alternating points of view that shift between my protagonist and my antagonist. That was my original idea, but I discovered something near the end of my story. As the story began the passages between POV shifts were long. As the story progressed, the shifts became shorter and shorter until at the end the shifts were a single sentence each.  The shorter they became the more frequently the POV shifted. As a result, the pacing of the story and tension level in the reader rises. I didn’t plan it this way. Boy, was I surprised when I looked back and saw what I had done! 

I’m not sure I could plan to write a novel this way (well I could plan, but I’m not sure I could execute it). Also, I wouldn’t use this technique unless the story requires rising tension throughout. It works in my story because it is a mix of horror and thriller. Ever-shortening POV shifts wouldn’t work in a cozy mystery or romance novel, for example.

I’m taking the day off from working on the novel. The end of the story was difficult to write, both intellectually and emotionally. The story is done, now I have to go back and fill in the holes.

Word up!

#nanowrimo site is still borked. I have a streak of 10 for 10.

The old site was reliable and easier to navigate.

@nanowrimo #writing #web #ui #ux

It’s day 11 of NaNoWriMo and I’ve cracked the 23K mark. The 11th day, the second week, is when many people get discouraged, and fade. How do you stay motivated? Here are my suggestions.

• Find a place and time and write consistently.  Nope. Nope. I say again, nope!  This is not motivation. This is how you build a habit. Writing at the same time and place leads to boredom. If you’re bored, you won’t do your best work. Write when and where you can. Write on the bus. Write at work (during lunch or breaks). Write at the restaurant. Write in bed. This will not only have you writing, but it will give you a new habit that is better than “same time, same place”. It will teach you to write anywhere and with distractions around you.  Why do you think coffee shops (Starbuck’s) is a trope hangout for writers? It has people. It has distractions. Humans are social animals. We need company. We are more effective when there are others around us. We need stimulus to help us focus (rather than fall asleep from boredom). You will also get character and dialog ideas by observing those around you.

The one caveat I have is don’t confuse stimulus with distractions. Kids or your significant other vying for your attention is a distraction. They will all ways have a higher priority than your writing (or should). You need to find an area in which to write that has no priority other than writing. 

• Write what you know. Nope. Nope. I say again, nope! Every aspiring writer is told this. This is safe. This is comfortable writing. It is not motivation. Besides, have you ever heard of an author who flew to another planet, fought orcs, murdered his wife, much less seen a real murder, or zombie? To be motivated, you need to write what you want to write, not what you know. Most our own lives are too boring to write about. You learn by doing research, and by writing what you don’t know. That’s how you become a good writer, not a boring writer. Even if what you write is bad, you will have grown because you have gone outside your own existential box. Write what you think is fun to write about. That is motivating.

• Find people that support your writing. Yep. Yep. I say again, yep! Family, is a good place to start. But, family (usually) don’t want to hurt your feelings, so they will all ways tell you how good of a writer you are. This may be good for your ego, but it’s not motivation. Find family, friends, and even strangers that tell you you should keep writing and to push you to write, whether or not they have read your stuff. Join online groups and social media. Interact with other writers (most of them don’t bite) and reach out for help or suggestions (just don’t ask them to read your work, unless they get paid to do so–most writers are too busy writing their own stories). Attend conventions and conferences, join a writing group at your library (you know what a library is, don’t you?)  The more people in your circle, the more you will be supported.

• Make writing fun. Reward yourself. Set achievable goals. That doesn’t mean aim for a 50K novel in November. It means write 250 words eight times a day, less if you can’t manage 250. The goal is to write, not to meet a deadline. Deadlines are for businesses. NaNoWriMo is not about the deadline. It is about building a habit of writing and to write. Set rewards commensurate with your goals. The larger the goal, the larger the reward. Do not take a day off if you’ve only written 250 words. If you write 5000 words in a day, well you can afford to take a day off if you are still on target and schedule. There are apps and websites that turn writing into a game.  If you are a masochist, there are apps and websites that make NOT writing torture. Pick your poison. Encourage yourself.

Don’t worry about the quality of your writing. The point is to tell your story. Quality is about making it perfect. That takes work. Work is not fun (for most of us). It’s a chore. Tell your story. Once you finish telling your story go back and work to make it better. The first draft (the goal of NaNoWriMo) is meant to be shit!  Have fun first. Work later.

The point of motivation is to keep you writing. As long as you keep writing, no matter how you do it, the writing will become a habit you will enjoy.

Word up!

NaNoWriMo 2019 has begun. This is my tenth time. It doesn’t feel that long ago that I heard about NaNoWriMo and tried completing a whole novel in thirty days. Sure, I’d written before, but never to a deadline. The first year was grueling. I had words to write, and words to count and the closer I came to the daily goal of 1667 words the slower the words seemed to come. The result was not all that great.

Over time, I learned to let go of tracking the word count after every sentence (or word) and focused on telling the story and listening to my characters. The stress diminished, and my writing improved.  Now, I focus on the word count after each writing session, even though I have a count running in real time. I may glance at it, but I’ve learned not to take it seriously. The point is to tell a story, not to hit 1667 words a day or even 50K words.  The point of NaNoWriMo is to tell a story and to get into the writing habit. If you can write each day for thirty days during NaNoWriMo there is no reason you can’t write each day of your life. 

Write each day of your life? That sounds awful! That sounds like work!  It’s work if you obsess on word counts. If you have a story, you want to tell you will tell it, even if you have to write each day of your life until you finish. If you write every day, the only word count limits you have to worry about are self-imposed ones. It is freeing.  And writing is work. It takes energy–mental and emotional energy. Some days writing will be easier than others. The key is not to get in your own way to make it more difficult.


This year, I shifted gears the first day. I had planned (made many pages of notes) for a domestic horror novel.  A few days ago I woke up at 3AM and had an idea for a horror thriller.  I debated, with myself, whether I should write that or my original idea. Day 1 I trusted my gut and went with the horror thriller. It’s a more “fun” write, and more sellable. My original story idea is more emotional and deeper. I haven’t given up on it, but have shelved it until I have time or desire to write the story.

So, try not to obsess about your idea, characters, word count, or even the story. Write what you want to write when you want to write it. NaNoWriMo is a way to build a habit and to measure your progress.  The key is to write your story.  


After day 2, I am over 4K words.

Word up! 

“What is your story about?” 

It’s an interesting question and depending upon who asks it, you need to have a good answer.

First, have a story and know what it is. If you don’t, you are in no position to answer the question. Figure out what your story is. Then figure out “what your story is about”.

I guess I should explain the distinction. 

When a friend asks you, “What is your story about?”, they want to hear what happens in your story, the events of the story. 

“Well, there is this girl, Jen, and she has to visit her sick grandmother, and along the way, she is confronted by a wolf (a real wolf, not a person who tries to hit on her) and then…”

This is the answer most people will give. This is the story. “This happens, then this happens, then this other thing happens, and then…”

If an agent, editor, publisher, or maybe another author/writer asks you, “What is your story about?”, in most cases they want to hear the point of your story.  What is your purpose in you telling your story?

“Well, this is a story about a girl who learns that talking to strangers can have bad consequences, either for the girl, or stranger. Trust shouldn’t be blind.”

One thing to note is this latter answer is concise and to the point. The former will tend to ramble as you try to recall the action points of your plot. The latter makes for a good tag line or an elevator pitch.  There is no hook, per se.  How do you make it better?

“This is a story about a girl who meets a wolf that tries to eat her and learns that talking to strangers can have bad consequences, either for the girl, or stranger. Trust shouldn’t be blind, and you should know the difference between a wolf and your grandma.”

Others may disagree, but this is a far better answer, tagline, or pitch because it has a hook and explains the point of it all.  This answer has its own built-in hook. The person who hears it wants to know, “How could you not know the difference between your grandma and a wolf?” This should lead to follow-up questions and allow you to get into the “… and then…” answers. 

Do you have to start with a “what is it about?”, before you write? No. A lot of times a story (“… and then…”) comes first, and then >cough< you realize you have written something that has meaning beyond a sequence of events. It may require work to discover, but you need to have it.  A story without an “about” is listening to your friend talk about what they did last Tuesday at work. It may interest, but it has no real effect on the listener (unless your friend admitted to murdering your mother). 

If you can’t state what your story is “about” either before, during, or after your writing, you have merely told everyone what happened on Tuesday to the vampire unicorn that killed your mother’s next-door neighbor.

Halloween is a week away. What’s scarier? NaNoWriMo is also next week.

I’m trying to juggle cats these last 12 days. I’m working on getting the fourth, and final, book in what I call “The Roland Targus” series pushed out for publication. I have a cover and am just working on getting the book formatted properly for Blurb®. I’m not sure I will stick with them for my next book. They are a good self-publishing platform, but overprice the end result.

If you are wondering, here is the cover:

I’m also trying to finish my current work in progress, my satire. It is a book that has taken me several years to get to where it is. I’m still on the first draft. It’s complex, snarky, and deep. I like it as a first draft.

Finally, I’m also making notes (see the previous post) about this year’s NaNoWriMo. I have a good overall plot arc. It’s the details I’m concerned about. I have my doubts about whether I can write a true horror novel.

And those are my active projects. I still have last year’s noir to edit (it turned out way better than I had hoped), I have a book of short stories I need to transcribe from handwritten pages to my app, and a song-based short story to complete.

Those are my writing projects. I have other stuff I have to time-slice into the mix. I call the other stuff “life”.

The NaNoWrMo site purged/deleted/wiped/erased/cleansed/killed all my writing buddies. Feel free to add me on the site and I will reciprocate, “Archimage”.

See you next week when the fun really hits writing fans.

Word up!

“Are you a plotter or a pantser?” That is a question that I get more often than I would consider given that few people are writers or authors. In my case, this is not a straight-forward question. I’m not even a “plantster”. 

Oh, I have outlined novels using outlining tools and apps. I have also grabbed a fountain pen and pad and begun scribbling (for that is what my handwriting is) a story. I’ve also outlined only to throw away most of my plans and “go from the gut”. None of these are satisfying to me, even if they help with structure and content. 

I’m a noter. My preferred method is to have one notebook for my work in progress, and another for notes. I enjoy brainstorming. I throw notes at the pages with no structure or order to them. I ask myself questions about characters, plot, motivations and conflict. I then write based on what I consider the best notes and questions. As I write, I throw more notes into the note notebook. I jump back and forth between the story and the notes as I write. 

I write ideas. I write character studies. I write questions. I write things I need to edit in future drafts. I note things a reader doesn’t want to know. I write sentences I might use. I never write what I call “throwaway lines”. These I dump on Twitter under the hashtag #throwawayline and are free to anyone who wants them. I write problems with continuity or structure.  But, mostly, I write plot points, actions and consequences. I even sometimes use bullet points.

My note notebook doesn’t read like a story or a book. In retrospect, it reads like a disjoint conversation with myself centered on my work in progress. My current novel, a satire has four notebooks full of the actual novel, and two full note notebooks. As a very rough gauge, therefore, I write two pages of the story for every full page of notes.

That’s how I tend to work and enjoy working. 

The notes give me fodder some of which I then sit down and turn into a story by pantsing; but it’s not really pantsing since I’m pulling ideas from the other notebook. Most of the notes I create I never use in the actual story. The notes are a way to test story points, ideas, and characters. It allows me to write while knowing where I am going story wise.

So why am I telling you all of this? 

If you hate outlining, but need structure, or if you need ideas but hate structure, maybe my approach may work for you.

I know it’s not for everyone, but then, I’m not everyone. 

For the 2019 NaNoWriMo, I’m trying something different. I’ve laid out my main arc and story beats (I need some structure since I’ve never written a horror story before). Within each “beat” I’m compiling notes that are appropriate to that part of the story. It’s an over-arcing (sorry) structure with free-form notes within it. The reason I’m trying this approach is NaNoWriMo has a 30-day deadline. I can’t waste time outlining to the umpteenth degree and I can’t pants around because I’ve never written horror.

So far I think my approach will work. But it’s not something I think I will use often. 

So, if someone asks you if you are a pantser or a plotter, tell them you are noter. Then, expect to spend some time explaining yourself.

The Horror

I’ve recovered from the glow of the C3 conference and am in the early stages of NaNoWriMo 2019 preparation. This will be my 10th year, my 10th straight novel for the event. I’ve even published some, but most have not been worthy.

This year, I want to spread my wings, so to speak, and write a horror novel. I’ve never done this. It’s not a genre with which I’m comfortable. I prefer and tend to write more light-hearted fare. I was thinking of working on a thriller–again not something I’ve written. However, I found my idea for a thriller was more interesting and worth a full-blown novel attempt. It’s on my “back burner”.  

You know you are. writer when…

• You are editing the forth book in your series…and you want to get it published before EOY (End of Year)…
  
• You are editing a noir…
  
• You are transcribing (I hand write and then type everything, except for NaNoWriMo) a book of short stories…
  
• You are transcribing a novel…
  
• You started a short story but you forgot about it because Apple’s iOS beta release destroyed everything, and you then find a backup copy…
  
• Your work in progress (of two years) is a satire you are finally finishing…
  
• You have a NaNoWriMo horror novel to attempt…
  
• You want to write a thriller, for which you have a good concept…
  
• You are looking for other writing conferences which to attend…
  

No, I’m not fixated on writing. I split my time between coding, writing, brewing beer, eating, sleeping, living, learning new stuff (I’m struggling with Japanese and “hearing” Morse Code). It’s a matter of priorities and I prioritize my time equally.  Well, truthfully, sleeping and eating tend to fall lower on my list.

…it seems I have drifted off topic.  

So, this NaNoWriMo, I plan on writing a horror novel. This is a weird thing to consider because I am not really a fan of horror books or movies, although I do partake. I just find it predictable and “done before”–especially movies. It’s not so much the horror, but the surprise that I find worthy. I started laying out my horror novel. It’s difficult. I take notes. I write ideas. I #throwawayline [s] on Twitter [follow me: @Archimage] I wrote two notes to myself in all caps:

* NO HUMOR

* NO TROPES!

Originality is difficult. Using tropes and what is expected is easy, as is taking existing stuff and swizzling it to pretend it is new. But, you need to understand the tropes and expected to know how to break the rules in such a way that what you create is still recognizable as what you intended.  

I have (professionally) all ways succeeded in looking at things in unexpected ways to solve problems. I also do that in my humor-based writing. I’m finding it a challenge to do so in horror without it ending up being funny (funny horror is a trope, right?). 

The other thing I want to focus on is “getting into the head” of my main character.  I all ways do this, but this will be more immersive since I will only have two characters…well three if you stretch it.

My writing is dialog-heavy (dialogue, for you Brits, etc.)  I might pull-off a dialog-horror story, but that’s two variables. I need to make this book more descriptive, more moody, more dark, more evil, more–dare I say–visual?  I’m not a visual person. 

This year’s NaNoWriMo will be an experiment, as most NaNoWriMos are for me. I will end up on the other side better, stronger, faster…as an author and writer. 

Join me for the horror of it all.

Oh, the third major note I made to myself:

• MAKE IT HORRIBLE

Word up!

This past Friday was the 13th and, at least for me, was very lucky, magical, mystical, and dare I say alchemical? Ok, I’m overdoing it. I get it. But, the weekend was transformative.

Creatures, Crime, and Creativity (C3) is a yearly fan and writer’s conference held in Columbia, MD and hosted by Austin and Desinse Camacho of Intrigue Publishing. I had gone last year, and had learned a lot and had a good time, so I registered for this year’s event. Now, I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember (and that’s a long time), I’ve self-published a bunch of books (think of them as a bunch of carrots tied together and thrown into the bottom drawer of the refrigerator), and they are out there, but I don’t promote, push, market, or talk about them to people I meet. I’m not that good. (self-criticism is the sincerest kind, and I’m me.) I’m a writer because I write.

Be that as it may, I registered and took a chance and this year I registered as an author. The only real requirement was having published. As I registered, I had thoughts of imposter syndrome. What if they found out I was no one famous (or even important)?  I didn’t want to get kicked out. I wanted to go.

Time passed. Then I got an email from Cynthia Lauth, an organizer, telling me she was having a hard time finding my books on Amazon. Ruh, roh!  Panic.  I took a deep breath and relaxed. I have publisher links. I have real books. I just don’t sell them. I passed the links back.

Time passed. I get another email from Cynthia. I’m on two panels and I’m moderating two others. Wha–?! I check the schedule.  I’m on:

“Humor in Writing” with Jeff Markowitz, Allan Ansange, and Susan McBride (moderating).  Ok, I sort of get it. I write humor. I think I have a sense of humor, but just a sense. People I know, don’t like my sense of humor, but I get why I’m on this panel. I can pull this off. But with Jeff and Allan? I’m familiar with both of them and I was witness to Jeff’s wit at last year’s conference. I’m done for (dangling preposition notwithstanding). I’d have to prepare…

Next up was, “The Battle of the Sexes–What Makes Hero and Heroine Conflict Such a Prevalent Concept in Romance Novels?”  I was moderating. I read the title again… Ok, I could talk about “The Battle of the Sexes” and, I didn’t even see “Romance Novels”.  This panel comprised Rebecca York, Jenna Harte, and Becky Muth. An all-female panel. I was toast.

Sweating, I scanned for the next appearance of my name on the schedule.  Saturday, I was on one of the first panels. “Ripped from the Headlines: Writing Stories from ‘Fake News’”. I’ve never done that. The closest I’d ever come was commenting on tweets I saw. I’m not a news “junkie”. I know better than to troll or be trolled. I sat and thought about the topic. I wasn’t even sure I knew what “fake news” was… apart from what some important people believed it was. I could probably fake my way through this panel.  D.W. Maroney, Adam Meyer, Karl Brungart, were the other panelists, and Susan McBride was moderating again.

Scan… scan… scan… change… change… change… King of Fools…

I was moderating one of the last panels on Saturday. I relaxed and remembered to breathe. “Writing for TV/Film.” I’d written several structurally, and story-wise god-awful scripts/screenplays to learn how to write them. I had questions. I’d be good. I gulped when I saw the panelists.  John Gilstrap, David Mack, and Adam Meyer.  Again, people I was familiar with, read, or followed. These three were the power team.

I was in over my head. Maybe I could call in sick. They would be able to find someone to cover for me, couldn’t they?  Maybe Austin and gang were desperate, and I was the fill-in….  I couldn’t let them down. The imposter syndrome flashed through my brain caught up and ran over me like a train full of experts. Well, I was commited. I’d go through with it. If only to tell myself that I had done my best.

I spent a day or so thinking about how to handle each panel and sent out emails to the panelists both to introduce myself (who has ever heard of me?) and to throw out some sample questions. I got some nice responses from everyone.

Time passes and the weekend of the conference rolls around. It’s Friday the 13th weekend, 2019. A full moon.  I lug a copy of some of my books in case they ask me for my ID before they let me on the panels.

Too cut to the chase, I did OK on the humor panel, and got a few laughs, and when things got deep and serious, some nods of agreement from a lot of the audience (including Austin). My copanelists were awesome and made me look good.  The “Battle of the Sexes” panel, I stumbled through. Remember I mentioned I didn’t even notice the phrase “Romance Novel”? I asked very amateurish and obvious questions (because I have never read a romance novel).  I learned a lot and the authors were kind enough not walk out on me. The Film/TV panel went ok. I asked the questions I wanted answered; again some were basic ones. The panel went well and I was surprised I could supress my awe at the panelists while asking. The “Fake News” panel, I felt I held my own. 

Afterward, I was physically and emotionally wiped. I will admit, I’m an introvert. I don’t do well with people I don’t know despite having given presentations and taught in front of hundreds. It’s still not a pleasant experience.

It’s not about me, however.


––––

I should get to the point of this post. The panelists all were stellar and the discussions were wonderful. I am honered to have been included and given the chance to take part.

Everyone at C3 was welcoming, friendly, curious, and helpful. I met many people, reconnected with those I met last year, and for the first time ever felt I was an author, and not just someone who wrote books. People wanted to know where to get my books.  No, not because I felt like a celebrity, I didn’t and hope I never do. Because everyone at C3 treated me (and everyone else) as an equal.  I was part of the community. I felt my efforts as a writer were validated.  My life has changed, from my perspective.

I want to mention a few people. (If I were to mention everyone I interacted with, I’d be writing my next book.)

Austin and Denise Camacho, and Cynthia Lauth. They put this conference on, are friendly, good folk. They work hard. Support them and C3. They make it what it is.

David Mack, one keynoter. This man is an expert. He is a technician of the first order. I really wish I had a chance to spend some time chatting with him, but he was always busy.  His keynote was bitter-sweet about the up and down cycles of his carreer and the industry. It was inspiring and motivating. He is a fairly quiet guy (I got the sense he was uncomfortable being in the spotlight), but he became more relaxed and seemed to be enjoying himself as the coference went on. His wit is dry, sardonic, and ascerbic.  I get it. I like it. Cool dude. Also, his wife Kara is a great person.

Julie Hyzy and husband Curt. Great people, both. Julie was the other keynoter. Her talk was the most heartfelt and personal one I’ve ever heard. It was full of anecdotes, touching moments, humor and inspiration. For someone who claims to not enjoy speaking in public, she’s an expert. She also talks a mile a minute on panels when she is excited and/or interested. The fact she likes puns and time-travel doesn’t colour (British spelling) my opinon–well not much.  I awkwardly handed her my books (to show my appreciation for her keynote) and later she asked me to sign them. My first real autographs! Curt is a very cool guy in a laid-back sort of way. I had a nice chat about sports with him.

S.A. Cosby was a highlight of the conference.  “Noir at the Bar” is a mini-event within C3 where authors read one of their shorter works over drinks. Mr. Cosby read a story that was immediate, powerful, visceral, and imaginative. His reading was more acting than reading.  I’d buy any audiobook read by him. I was lucky enough to win one of his books and get it signed.

Debbie Mack. I met her at last year’s C3, but this year was the first time I got a chance to chat with her. Not only is she an author, but she also blogs, and produces videos that remind me of MST3K. She’s currently subtitling the old Buck Rogers serial. She’s also a fan of old movies, Doctor Who, and The Prisoner. What can be wrong with that? Cool person.

There are too many others to mention. 

Thank you all for allowing me into the fold. If you are a fan of writing, a writer, or an author you owe it to yourself to check out C3 http://creaturescrimesandcreativity.com

If you want to follow people on Twitter:

@Ascamacho - Austin Camacho
@JulieHyzy - Julie Hyzy
@DavidAlanMack - David Mack
@Blacklionking73 - Shawn A Cosby
@DebbieMack - Debbie Mack
@JohnGilstrap - John Gilstrap
@FJTalleyAuthor - FJ Talley
@EButlerBooks - Ellen Butler
@AlanOrloff - Alan Orloff
@AuthorBeckyMuth - Becky Muth
@Jenna_Harte - Jenna Harte

@RebeccaYork43 - Rebecca York

…and many others…



…oh, and me, @Archimage

Time to get back to editing two novels, a book of short stories, and finishing my current work in progress, a satire.

Thank you all!

Write on!

I made it! 50+K words.

The last few days have been busy and the writing was difficult. I had one scene I had to get right. I had multiple threads that had I had to resolve. If they didn’t come together, the story would fall apart. I think I pulled it off, so to speak.

I’m tired. I’m satisfied. It’s a first draft, but one of the most complex first drafts I’ve written. I set out to write a noir. Is it noir? I don’t know. There are light moments in the story that seem out of place. But, I do have a good story. It’s not perfect even as a story. There are continuity issues and changes in narrator tense that I need to address. But, it’s a first draft. I’m satisfied.

I learned a lot about noir and character development. I learned a lot about what I’m capable of and a few of my limitations. This was a tough NaNoWriMo, I admit. However, I made it.

If you’re still working or struggling with your novel, don’t give up. Keep writing. You might be surprised.


Word up!

Well, that’s interesting. My story has taken a turn I hadn’t expected. I’m at the climax and something I’d foreshadowed earlier as a throwaway line was confirmed. My protagonist is more complex and has more at stake than I had originally conceived. The story has become more interesting as a result. 

This is a dark story. I’ve written scenes I didn’t believe I could ever write. I don’t enjoy dark stories and don’t write them. Tackling a noir has taught me I can create complex characters. That’s a win for me. 

I still need to work through the climax. I’ve chosen one of the alternate endings I wrote about last time. Even thought the ending is the same at its core, the details are completely different. 

Have a good Thanksgiving, those that partake. 

I’m nearing the end. I should have one or two more posts in the coming days. 

Word up!

I decided I need a break. I’m taking today off from writing. I’ve spent a lot of energy working on this novel to the point I started dreaming about it. That usually means I need a change.

I’ve been working on how to best close out the story. When I started I had an ending in mind. While writing during the past week I realized I could end the story several ways. A lot of things in the story weren’t there when I started and have opened up different options. My antagonist doesn’t need to be the antagonist. This is a complication I’ve never run into before. He is the antagonist from the perspective of the protagonist and narrator, but he doesn’t have to be the real protagonist. It’s complicated. I need to commit to one of three different endings I envision in the next couple of scenes.

I’m still ahead based on word count. That’s one benefit of writing more than the minimum per day. You can take time off. I’m at 34.5K words. I’ll get back to writing tomorrow.

Word up!

All is lost! We’re halfway through NaNoWriMo for this year. I’m almost exactly 3/5 of the way done. I’ve broken 30K words. I’m in the middle of writing my “all is lost” section. A lot of people call this the “all is lost moment”. It’s never a moment in the writing even though it may be a subjective moment to the protagonist. This is the point in the book when the hero/protagonist realizes he has lost everything he values [read as he/she/etc.] As a result, they come to embrace “the quest”. They change as a person from what they were to what they can be. That’s not to say they win. In noir, which is what I’m writing, there are no winners. In my case, they accept the challenge rather than being unwilling sticks on the fast-rushing river of life. They mean well and do well despite losing in the end. Heroes don’t need to win or be heroic. They just need to face their problems.

I’ve got issues with my story. I tend to switch tenses in midstream. My timeline and continuity are broken. There are “dead” scenes. That’s ok. This is a first draft. I’m working through how to tell the story. The story itself is good. I’ve “won” the past nine NaNoWriMos and written more than that number of novels. I’ve learned that the story is the most important part. If you can tell a good story, you can always fix weak and broken bits in succeeding drafts.

On another topic, I tried starting a writing group here over the past couple of weeks. No one showed up to them. Oh well. I’m disappointed but not surprised.


Write on!

Wow! We’re one-third of the way through NaNoWriMo, and I’m over 20K words or 40% done. I took a light day yesterday and only wrote around 600 words. I needed a break and time. I had to think through complications that have arisen in the story.

I’ve started taking notes about the clues, complications, and various events in the plot. I want to make sure I maintain continuity and resolve everything at the end. The story isn’t a mystery but there is enough going on to take notes. The subplots, most of them happening out of view of my protagonist, need to work.

My protagonist has been beaten up badly and is gathering evidence. There are more players at play than he knows of at this time. He’s not sure why he keeps hunting for an answer to the attempt on his life. That motivation is something I know I need to “amp up” and explain.

It’s a fun ride. There is still a lot of the story to tell.



Word up!

How is your writing progressing? Are you making your daily minimum word requirement? I broke the 16K mark today. My story has gotten complicated. There is a lot going on behind the scenes. My protagonist is searching for answers. There has been a second try on his life. He has gotten involved with the main female character. The main antagonist is not what he appears to be and is now darker and more shadowy than I had originally envisioned.

The story has weak spots and areas of horrid writing. Parts stray from being a true noir–it’s difficult to stay in that frame of mind for me. That’s ok. It’s a first draft. I’m learning.


Word up!

I’m over 11K words and writing at a good pace. I’m not straining to write a lot since I’m pantsing and I need to have time to think about where I’m going as I write. However, I am writing over 2K words per day. I learned over the past nine NaNoWriMos that if I write more than the minimum each day I build up a reserve. I can then use it to take a day off if I’m not in the mood, or in case something unexpected occurs. Life is like that.

Yesterday was a hard slog writing-wise. I just couldn’t seem to get into the flow. I struggled to put words on the page. It wasn’t a block. I knew what I wanted to say and write, but I couldn’t get the correct words. The voice wasn’t working. Once I know the voice in my story the writing has a rhythm and flow. I just couldn’t seem to get into my “noir voice”. I worked through the problem and managed to get my word count to where it had to be. Today, the voice was back, and the session went faster.

My story has taken a left turn. My characters are deeper and more complex than what I had originally imagined. The story has become darker and more convoluted. The stakes have become higher than in my original story idea. I have a good story–if I can bring it to a satisfactory conclusion.

My words of wisdom for today are: if you think you are in a writing block, know what you want to say, but not how to say it, maybe you have lost the voice of your story. Take a break. Reread the last page or two. Note the rhythm. Mimicking that may get you back on track.

Word up!

Welcome. This is my first post during the 2018 iteration of NaNoWriMo. I have a good start and am over 4400 words. I had to struggle at times. My concept of how the story would start and unfold didn’t work. Yesterday I felt the beginning felt stiff and contrived. Having rethought the opening, I started work. Typing each word was an effort until I got into the natural rhythm of the story and my characters.

I’ve written the inc

iting incident and the setup. My characters still need more development but they are real to me. They have changed from what I had envisioned when I was taking notes and coming up with my main arc. They aren’t one dimensional and the story isn’t going to go where I had planned it to go as a result.

I have an interesting setting. It’s D.C. in 1925-6. I’m not trying to make the story historically correct but I did enough research to make it believable and of that time. It’s a good backdrop to the characters and plot.

Writing noir is hard. Raymond Chandler et al., make it seem easy. The writing is deceptively direct, but full of nuance and depth. I’m sure I’ll never reach that level or artistry but I can work to write something passable. It’s going to take time and practice.


That’s all for today. Write on!

T Minus 1 Day

Writing is not about planning. Otherwise, it would be called planning. That may be self-evident but a lot of people spend time taking notes, doing research, drawing characters but don’t actually write. They aren’t writers. Writers write. NaNoWriMo is the month for writing. Write 50,000 words. That’s 1,667 words per day for 30 days. That’s only 104 words per hour (that assumes you want to sleep a full eight hours each day). That’s 2, I repeat 2, words a minute. If you can’t put a sentence together that has two or more words a minute, you don’t belong here.

50K words is not some huge unattainable effort. It’s one word at a time. One word after another. I’ve said this before. The secret (if there is one for NaNoWriMo) is that they don’t have to be perfect words. They can be junk. The goal is to write a first draft. Never assume a first draft is perfect or needs to be. No one writes a single draft, submits it, and gets published. No one. Don’t waste your time making perfection. Spend your time writing words.

I have my global story arc in a state where I can write from it. I know where I am going. How I get there depends on my characters. I may end up with another story. I have a map. It’s fun to explore things that aren’t on a map.

Write. Follow your plan but don’t be tied to it. Explore. Have fun. Word up.

One Week To Go

NaNoWriMo 2018 starts in one week. Are you ready?

I’m switching gears. I’m putting my current WIP (Work In Progress) onto the metaphorical shelf for a month and gearing up for November. I’m making a lot notes so I won’t forget what I’m in the middle of writing. A month away will also give me a fresh perspective on where I’m going and what I have already written.

I tried setting up a writing group this past week after having several people they would be interested and would attend. No one did. I’m not surprised. Writing, unless you’re serious, is a low-priority endeavor. I’ll try again in November.

As far as the noir I want to write, I’ve defined my main characters, back stories and all.

Cast of Characters

CAM WATTS, Cab driver. Sidekick.

GOODWIN SCRIVEN, Main mobster

JERICHO WALDROUP, Man with the ring. Hitman.

MOE REYNOLDS, Bartender

RANDY COOK, Detective.

TAYLA BOURKE, Femme fatale.

I’ve also laid out a very sparse main arc. I’m more of a pantser, but I like having a general idea of the story.

As in prior years, I plan on writing at least 2000 words per day. This is more than the 1667 required and gives me slack so that I can write less (or none) when I don’t feel up to the effort. At a standard of 250 words per page 2000 words is 8 pages or about 2 extra pages per day. And, of course, I’ll be posting on this blog.

Enjoy the week before things get busy.

Welcome back. It has been a while.

It’s mid October and many, including myself, are getting ready for another NaNoWriMo. It has been a busy year. I self-published the second book in my series of four which I wrote during NaNoWriMo 2015. I’m now editing the third and am hoping to get it out by the holidays. I’ve finished the first draft of a book of short stories and am part way through the first draft of a new book, a satire. This past year I switched from using a keyboard to fountain pens. I find I like the rhythm and tactile feedback I get when using one. I also feel I’m creating something rather than having a computer do it for me. The downside is I have to transcribe the written chicken-scratch to the computer.

I have never been to a writing conference, and I attended two this past year. I went to the Philadelphia Writer’s Conference [http://pwcwriters.org/]. This was an event focused on authors, editors, and publishers. There were great workshops, and I learned a few things. The PWC also had the ability to pitch to editors, agents, and publishers. I didn’t officially pitch, but I got positive feedback on my book of short stories.

The second event was “Creatures, Crime, and Creativity”, or C3 [http://creaturescrimesandcreativity.com]. This was a smaller conference but more personal and interactive. I got to meet and have good conversations with authors. C3 is focused on genre fiction:  mystery, thriller and suspense. The organizers and attending authors were friendly and helpful. This conference was all panels and excellent keynotes, with no workshops or ability to pitch. It did, however, have an event known as “Noir at the Bar” where authors gave 5-6 minute readings. This was a highlight.

Look into these events next year. I recommend both but I preferred C3 over PWC. 

Back to NaNoWriMo 2018. This will be my 10th year. One benefit of going to the conferences is that I have ideas about what to tackle. I want to write a true noir. It’s a style I haven’t tried and although I’ve read them (and am rereading some Raymond Chandler to get into the mood), I’ve never considered writing one. C3 has given me the bug. I’ve never written a thriller either, and want to but, it would be a more complicated trying to tackle during NaNoWriMo.  Once I’m done my current WIP, which I have to suspend until after November, I’ll work on a thriller. 

Yes, I will revert to using the keyboard and my iOS app rather than fountain pens. During NaNoWriMo getting words on page rapidly is important for me.

If you’re in Delaware, you’re welcome to join me for some of my writing sessions. Check this thread if interested: https://nanowrimo.org/forums/usa-delaware/threads/442164

I plan on updating the blog on a nearly daily basis again during November if you want to keep up with my progress and thoughts.

It’s time to figure out how to organize the scenes of your novel. Last time I talked about the various types of arcs your story can have. Here is the most common one, the one I call the stress arc:

There are various portions of this arc or curve, each part corresponds to one or more scenes. Here is the same arc labeled by what each portion’s responsibility is:

There are three points on the arc that are key and correspond to three key scenes: the inciting incident, the all-is-lost moment, and the climax. I described each of these in earlier entries.

Here is one method for laying out your scenes. Place each scene on a 3x5 card with a summary of the scene. You don’t have to have the full text of the scene, but you do need to know which card represents a given scene. I number my scenes and put the number onto the card with the summary.

Go through your cards and pick out the three that correspond to the three points on the arc. These are your key scenes. Now go through the remaining scenes and organize them based on whether they fall into the exposition and development, conflict/rising action, or resolution/epilogue phases of the arc. Order the scenes chronologically along the arc. You will need to order the conflict/rising action scenes by rising conflict or tension.

In the above diagram, each phase has two bubbles that represent individual scenes. Your story will probably have a different number of scenes within each phase.

Once you have your arc laid out, read the story using the new scene order. You’ll find you will have to adjust the continuity of the story, or shift events around to make the story read and flow properly. The key is the action in your scenes and tension rollercoaster have to follow the arc.

What if you don’t have anything written and don’t have any scenes to lay out? In that case I recommend writing the three key scenes first. This will offer a roadmap to your story. Then go ahead and write the scenes that belong in the three phases. Then go through and create the cards and rearrange them again based on what you have written.

Remember each scene and each arc needs to support the overall theme of your story. If it doesn’t, you can cut the scene and should.

That’s the basic approach.

If you want to get deeper into the process, you can follow this procedure for each character arc along with the main one. You’ll find your character arcs will intertwine with each other and the main arc. An intersection is another key scene if it’s not one of the main three. If an arc doesn’t interact with others in three or more places, you have a character that isn’t dealing with other characters and has to be rewritten or cut from the story. The character is living their own story and not contributing to the overall story arc.

This is the approach I take. Feel free to modify this to create your own.

We’ve talked about scenes in the past two entries. How do you organize them into a well-structured story? Before you can do that, we have to talk about arcs, more specifically story arcs. Story arcs are illustrated by a curve on a graph. There are many story arcs but they all have a similar appearance.

They start out fairly level and low, rise sharply, and then fall rapidly to another flat section that is usually higher than the leading one. Here is an example.

The arc is rarely smooth, or this simple. There are usually a lot of minor ups and downs along the way, but the overall shape is like the one illustrated here.

So what is it? This is, as I’ve said commonly called a story arc. I prefer to think of this as a tension arc. This is the ebb and flow of the tension your reader needs to fee while reading your story. The tension starts out flat as you introduce characters and situations. Something happens and the real story starts and there is conflict and challenges along the way that raise the tension your reader feels. Something happens and the tension jumps sharply then is released just as sharply to level off near the end of the book. The story arc is the rollercoaster of tension your reader must feel in order for them to be invested in your story. Every good book or story has a similar flow.

The arc is the covenant or the agreement you make with the reader. You promise your reader that your story will follow a similar arc or rollercoaster. If it doesn’t your readers will be disappointed and feel frustrated. A flat rollercoaster is rarely fun and implies a boring life to your protagonist. On the other hand having too many ups and downs, loops and whorls, disorient your rider-reader. The arc here has stood the test of storytelling time.

Another way to look at the arc is through the eyes of your protagonist. This arc also maps to the main character’s jeopordy. Things start out normally then things get bad. Suddenly, they get really really bad and finally things drop back down into a more normal state.

Here’s something most books don’t teach you. Each character in your book has an arc. Each arc is different. The rollercoaster of every character.

Each character’s arc is different because they see the story from a different point of view and have different problems and goals. Some will intersect the protagonist’s arc or follow it. Some will be completely different. Creating an arc for each character will lay the groundwork for a more complex and real character and story.

Here’s another tip most books don’t teach you. Your antagonist has an arc which for the most part is the similar to the protagonist’s but tracks something different. If we think of the arc as the jeopardy your protagonist is in, we can look at the antagonist’s success throughout the story.

Your antagonist is normally in the background preparing. He initiates his plans that grow in success. This increases your protagonist’s jeopardy either directly or indirectly. The antagonist’s plans come to fruition and at that point the two arcs meet. At this point the antagonist’s fortunes become bad, really bad to the point that we usually don’t see the antagonist as part of the story afterward. Why does the antagonist start higher than the protagonist? Usually, the antagonist knows what they are doing and knows their goal. The protagonist is usually struggling to find themselves and is less successful in life.

To summarize, as your antagonist’s success goes up so does your protagonist’s jeopardy and your reader’s stress.

Here is one last arc to consider.

This arc plots the protagonist’s success level against the antagonist’s. As the antagonist succeeds in his plans, the life of the protagonists becomes less so. After the lowest low of the protagonist, they jump up to the ultimate success level. The antagonist, on the other hand drops to the ultimate low. How you define ultimate depends on your story.

I hope this look at arcs helps you get a fuller understanding of the overall story flow and structure. Next time I’ll show you how to map your scenes to an arc.

Let’s talk more about scenes and how we can organize them. Last time I explained opening, middle, and final scenes. These will show us where in the story each scene belongs. Another way of looking at scenes is by their role.

• MacGuffin / Inciting
• Obligatory
• Structural / Thematic
• Emotional climax
• Climax
• Resolution

• A MacGuffin is a single scene that is also known as an inciting incident. This scene is an event that kicks the story into motion. For example, in Star Wars IV Luke buys a droid that belonged to Obi-Wan and discovers a recording meant for him. Luke needs to find Obi-Wan to return the droid. If Luke hadn’t discovered the recoding there would be no Star Wars IV with him, the plans would have never been delivered, and the Empire would have probably won.

• Obligatory scenes are required by your book’s genre. These are the expected scenes that occur in every book of that genre. For example, mysteries need a murder (and a victim). There needs to be a detective that examines the scene of the crime (no pun intended). There are the usual (and unusual) suspects and clues provided to the detective and reader. There is probably some misdirection to keep the detective (and reader) guessing. There is a final confrontation and capture of the suspect. If you omit one of these scenes your book won’t read as satisfying mystery. If you read enough of a genre, you will spot the “template” of obligatory scenes. It is a rare writer that can write a good mystery having never read one. Read. Read a lot!

• Structural or thematic scenes form the skeleton of your plot’s arc. They are the key scenes that drive your theme. Structural scenes make your story a story and not just a sequence of related events.

• Emotional Climax is a scene where the protagonist commits completely to the goal. They may still doubt, but there is no turning back for them.

• Climax is a scene where your hero, the protagonist, wins. This is the final payoff of your story.

• Resolution is a scene that shows the consequences of the climax. This is the everyone lives happily (or dismally) ever after scene.

Finally, scenes can be broken down into two other types:

• Plot scenes
• Pinch scenes

• Plot scenes are twists and obstacles in the overall story. Plot scenes keep the story moving (and the reader reading) by providing major hurdles your protagonist must overcome.

• Pinch scenes are scenes that highlight the antagonist’s control and power over the protagonist while supporting the theme. These scenes raise the stakes for the protagonist and raise the tension for your reader.

These are the key ways to slice-and-dice scenes. Each scene will fall into one or more of these types. Each provides a hint where in the overall story a scene belongs. Each scene must support the overall theme of the story.

So what do you do with this information? Every story needs each of these scenes but they need to be organized into a coherent story.

Next time I’ll talk about story and character arcs and how to write the proper scenes for your arcs using the scene types.

In my last post I laid out my thoughts about why scenes are important. Having made that discovery led me to consider how scenes relate to one another and the chapters that contain them. Here are my thoughts and conclusions.

There are four types of scenes:

• Opening scenes that introduce the situation (what’s at stake), the characters, the environment and express the theme.
• Middle scenes that include the action that supports the theme and brings up questions, manage the conflict, and tie the characters to the theme.
• Final scenes that resolve the situation in a way that the theme becomes clear, finish the character evolution that results from the theme, and answer any unanswered questions.
• Exploratory scenes that occur throughout a novel where the author is exploring what to write and how to write it. These are the scenes that are useful at the time of writing, but do not belong in the final book because they are not one of the first three types.

Because scenes are atomic in nature and you can move them around, you can cut exploratory scenes without hurting your book. You can rearrange the remaining scenes into the first three types. Each tells you where in the book the scene fits. You may discover you have snuck a final scene into the middle section of the book. It is a simple task to move that errant scene into the final section where it belongs.

Once you have the opening, middle, and final sections of the book defined, how do you arrange the scenes within each section? There are several options. You can arrange the scenes in a chronological order. This is the usual approach. You can also arrange the scenes based on how the narrator wants to disclose the information. The narrator may want to change the order hide information, or to increase the amount of foreshadowing. This is the narrative approach. If you choose the narrative approach be wary of flashbacks and flash-forwards.

After you have rearranged the scenes to your liking, reread the entire book. You will discover that scenes no longer flows into the next. You’ve introduced a continuity problem by rearranging the scenes. Rewrite the leading scene so it flows into the next. You can do this by changing a sentence or writing a new one.

What about chapters? How do you decide which sequential group of scenes belong in a given chapter? A chapter break can occur at the start or end of a major event within the book. An approach that I like is having a chapter end on a cliff-hanger so the reader will want to continue reading. There are other ways.

What if you don’t have an existing draft? How do you create the scenes? I’ll try to tackle that in the next post.

I discovered something while I was laying out an idea for my next book which I feel is important enough to share. Scenes are more important than chapters.

I typically write with a chapter in mind which I always considered a self-contained arc within the greater arc of the story. My chapters aren’t mini-stories but instead are integral to the overall plot. While I was writing character studies and plotting out my overall arc, it hit me that my focus was wrong. Instead of focusing on the chapters and mini-arcs I found that if I focused on the individual scenes of a chapter I have more control over the overall arc and plot. 

A scene is a passage which changes a character or event that progresses the overall plot, and most import supports the theme of the story. Think of a scene as the atoms of your story; they are the smallest building blocks that make sense to the theme. And because they are the smallest building blocks moving them around gives you the greatest and the most fine-grained control over your story.  

A chapter is too big. A sentence is too small. A paragraph couples too tightly to the action and dialogue.  A scene hits the Goldilocks spot. 

This is a paradigm shift for me and is affecting how I think, plan, and will write. 

Winner! 52,579 words in total.

I didn’t write much over the holiday but made up for it the past two days. I feel good about the first draft result.

This was the final book in my series of four. I was familiar with all my characters and everything they have gone through. This book had to be a romance and it was, but not a full-blown genre romance. My two main characters had to realize they cared and loved each other. That they did. There had to be a final confrontation. This ended as a confrontation between the two; it works. After four books there were a few questions and issues that had to be resolved. They were. My protagonist had to find himself. He did.

I was concerned I wouldn’t be able to bring everything I had started across the four books to closure. I was stuck at one point until I stepped away from being “in my character” to see the bigger picture. Once I changed my perspective I discovered I had laid out all of the pieces and just had to arrange them into the story I saw.

This book is far from perfect but it is one of my stronger efforts. It’s a huge accomplishment for me. When I started the first book I didn’t know where I was going with the overall arc. My characters grew and evolved and they drove the story forward. The first story ended but was open ended. So I decided to carry it into the others. Each book after the first focuses on a different set of characters to tell the story of the group as a whole.

It will be difficult to leave the characters I have grown to know and like.

I’ll take some time away from this book and begin editing the second.

Now I need to come up with something to write about next November.

Write on!

I am now at almost 40K. I’m at my final pinch point. My protagonist has decided to commit despite his doubts, his blindness, his losses. He has no idea what to do.

The last couple of days I’ve been floundering. This morning I spent a lot of time distracted by everything that would let me be distracted. I wanted to write, but I found excuses to do something else. I caught myself. I decided to commit to writing today despite my doubts. I wrote. I went over my 2K daily goal. I wrote a strong scene.

Whenever you experience doubt or uncertainty press on. Flip a coin. Write garbage. Write an overheard conversation into your novel. Just write. Not writing will let your doubts and uncertainty win. That sets a precedent. Once set, it becomes an excuse and is hard to break.

Words always win over silence.

Write on!

Today was a unique writing day. I sat down to write and the next thing I knew I had written several pages of pure dialogue. There was no exposition, action, or even dialogue hints. All I had was two characters talking. One character was brand new and I had only introduced him to resolve a question I had written myself into.

Rereading what I had written I’m surprised at how good it is and how well it works. My protagonist and new character are combative but the pages are humorous. They are oblivious of the humor. It works. It’s fun. It was also sorely needed after several chapters of grim and serious events. Better still, this scene allows more insight my protagonist’s psyche.

It was a good writing day. I’m up to 30,793 words.

Write on!

I now have 28,874 words.

I took the last couple of days off from blogging. Real life has been busy, but I hit my daily goal each day. I’m past the halfway point.

My story is coming together. My protagonist still struggles with his blindness and self-pity. I took care that I didn’t dwell on the self-pity. Had I done so, my protagonist would have become unsympathetic. No one likes a person who wallows in their own problems. Instead, I have a couple of sentences and a conversation where his emotions become obvious.

Things have gotten worse for him as well. He has regained his love [temporarily] only to have her regain her power and kill his best friend. She has also vowed to kill him, and destroy everything else.

This is all building up to the final confrontation between the two lovers. He will need to regain his will in order to win and regain himself. There are threads I need pull together and questions I must answer. On to the latter half of the story!

Write on!

It is day 11. I added another 2061 words.

Today was a good day for writing. It’s the first real cold day of the season. I wrote, what I think is, a good scene. It involves my protagonist, who is now blind, lying in bed and overhearing his hosts discuss him before they fall asleep. This causes him to question who he is and what he is capable of. He’s now in the depths of self-pity but the reader can see through that to what he can become.

Time for some hot chocolate.

Another 2073 words added for a total of 20852.

I’m making good progress. How about you? Have you given up yet? That’s the temptation about this time in NaNoWriMo. You’re struggling to find your story and feel you have hit a block. It’s easier to give up and quit, isn’t it? You want to quit.

Go ahead. Quit! You weren’t meant to write a novel. What were you thinking when you signed up? Remember all that excitement and all those ideas? Maybe you sat down and actually planned and outlined. What were you thinking?

You feel you need to finish. After all, you told everyone you were going to write a novel. If you quit, maybe they will all forget. They’ll still be your friends, won’t they? Go ahead. Quit!

There’s always next year. You can try it again. After all you have a couple of pages head start. It will be easier next year. You have another full year to get ready…

Quitting is easy. Isn’t it?

Writing is hard. It is work. Many people think you sit down and a novel appears as if by magic fully-formed. It doesn’t work that way. Even if you spend a lot of time and plan and have the world’s best outline, there will still be writing blocks. There will still be self-doubt, and work that has to be done. Writing 50,000 words is work. But, it’s work that can be completed.

Yes, you can write a novel. Yes, you can write around your blocks. Yes, a story will emerge. Perhaps not the one you envisioned, but you will have a story. Yes, you may not be able to finish it by the end of NaNoWriMo. NaNoWriMo is there to get you writing. Once you’re writing, no one says you have to stop on December 1. Writers never stop writing.

Be the writer you want to be. Don’t give in to the numerous temptations to quit. Write the story you will write. Only you can do that. And remember. Write it one word at a time.

I’m up to 18,779 words. What are you up to? Word-wise that is.

My story is progressing. My protagonist has rescued his love, or so he believes. Unfortunately, he quickly lost her again and she is more powerful than before. In the process he lost his vision and is completely blind. His world is falling apart around him. He is having doubts about his abilities and about her. Things are going to get a lot worse before they get better.

Winter has come. Stay warm.

I’m going to keep this post short. Today was a fractured writing day meaning I had to write in short bursts and spurts. Some days you can’t find or set aside a large block of time for writing. You have to write in short bursts and spurts in what time you can find. Today was that kind of day.

I wrote more than my daily target and am up to 16,758 words total.

Day 7. We are one week into NaNoWriMo. Don’t stop. Keep writing. Keep laying the tracks that are your story. Move from tie to tie that are your words. You are the engine. Don’t run out of steam. You know you can… you know you can!

I had a day where I struggled a bit. I had to present a critical piece of information without wanting to explain it to the reader. The information was meant to foreshadow but I didn’t want it obvious and transparent. It had to drive my protagonist to continue on his quest for his love but not overcome his doubts and fears which would have collapsed the story to several chapters.

I solved my problem in a roundabout way. Nothing overt was said or done. What wasn’t said and done became the key moment. Artists call this the white space, or the empty space in a painting. It’s the stuff that doesn’t seem to matter in a painting that makes the subject stand out. In reading it is analogous to “reading between the lines”. At times, an author gets a chance to plan and incorporate it rather than have it occur by happenstance. My attempt is a bit weak and will need rework, but it works and this is a first draft.

Word count: 14730.

Word up!

Day 6. Our supplies and water are running low. The crew is unruly and mutinous.

I’ve reached 12K+ words, with 2081 words written today. Yes, I wrote over the weekend, but I didn’t blog about it.

My story is progressing without my having to force it. I’ve established my characters, and their relationships. I’ve torn them apart and raised the stakes for my protagonist. I have some interesting ancillary characters that foreshadow and hint without getting in the way. Love is the force driving my protagonist, but the love interest is now a powerful antagonist that threatens to destroy more than just my main character. There are temptations. There are obstacles. There is a mouse. It’s all good.

This is an easy story to tell at this point. I’m expecting major headaches along the way. I’m looking forward to seeing how it turns out.

The crew has found a small box bobbing on the waves. I command, “Release the crackers!”

I’m doing well this year. I’m up to 6149 words on the third day.

When writing I often second-guess whether the sentence I wrote is good enough. It rarely is. I make a note and move on to the next sentence. I rarely go back to rework my writing as I write. Wanting perfection and needing to see immediate improvement are hard habits to break. Instead, I try to improve the next sentence over the one I finished. That’s not to say I always succeed, but the improvement tends to be there.

My first draft is always full of sentence fragments, partial thoughts and various grammar and diction issues. That’s fine. The first draft is to get the story out of your mind and onto the page. It will never jump out fully formed the way Athena did from the head of Zeus. Wisdom comes from accepting your limitations and working to eliminate them. You can’t accept them without first discovering them. You discover them in your first draft.

I’m up to 4088 words. It’s day two.

Let’s talk about being overwhelmed when you write. Specifically, feeling overwhelmed and how you can resolve the feeling enough to write. From my perspective there are several causes.

First, you have no ideas. This is common. You haven’t worked through the basic plot of your story, or do not understand what your story is. This, as the saying goes, is the important bit. If you can’t tell a story which assumes you know what a story is, you can’t write it. Read more. Start with fairy tales and fables. Read the classics and then move on to Neil Gaiman et al. Once you understand the core concepts of a story, you then need to practice creating one. Copy. Steal. Mimic. Repeat until you discover your own voice and stories. If you are still confused, write your own story—the story of you.

Second, you have too many ideas. This is less common. You can’t decide which path to take through your story, or which one of many to tell. This is where outlines, mind maps, and 3x5 cards are helpful. Use a spreadsheet if you must, but get your ideas out of your head. Then wade through, filter, or flip a coin to decide the most interesting story to tell. NOTE: Most interesting doesn’t have to be the best one to tell. If interesting, it will hold your own interest. Tell that one first.

Third, you have a story but you don’t know how to write or having started what to write next. Are you bored by your story, see point one, if you are too excited by your story, see point two. If none of those are appropriate, then you are thinking too much. You are trying to force the story to be good (or perfect). Stop it. Don’t worry about the quality of what you write. Stop thinking. Write what comes to you as it comes to you. Thinking is a blessing and a curse. Thinking is a blessing when editing, a curse when writing. Write garbage. Write out your thoughts. Write the names in your contact list and follow your memories, but write.

Being overwhelmed is caused by thinking too much about what you face. Feeling overwhelmed is different from being overwhelmed. A tiger leaps with little thought. Be a tiger. Write on!

Welcome to the month of NaNoWriMo. Yes, I know it’s somewhat redundant, that month bit. Day one is always a busy one. It is a hesitant one for me. I always have second thoughts about what I will write on any given day and how to start. This year I had neither of these issues.

This year I’m writing the forth and final installment of the series I started in 2014. I know my characters. I know where they must go. I’m not forcing them this year the way I attempted to do in previous years. I’ve learned to trust my characters and their stories.

This does not mean things will be easy. I’m writing a romance—my first. I will stumble, make mistakes, and dread, but that is the way of romance, isn’t it? So it is with writing. A first draft is a learning experience. It is never about creating perfection or art. It is about telling a story and learning how to make it better by making mistakes.

So, if you don’t know how to start or what to write, write what you can or what your characters want. A story cannot be forced until it has been told. The planning you have done is only a guide or a road map. Treat it as such. Unless, of course, you have etched it in stone.

I am up to 2035 words.