Russell's Adventures....

"The Hunger Games," by Suzanne Collins

2011-12-12T23:09:00.003-05:00

Alright, I’ll admit,I was engaged in this book. It’s a coolpremise that, even though it’s been done, is always captivating. Suzanne Collins does a great job at buildingtension between characters, then playing on that tension to hook you into anddrive the drama. The tension definitely keepsyou turning pages. Plus, for a kidsbook, there’s enough bloody detail to create a reality to the horribleexperience these kids are forced to go through.

Where Collins fallsshort is after the buildup. More than once she sets up an awesome conflict but right when it allcomes to a head, she finds a quick, easy way out. It’s like when you think you have one last biteof your sandwich left, only to find out you’ve already eaten it all. The problem with this sort of storytelling isthat letting your characters off easy takes away all their potential forchange. If your characters don’t change,what’s the point in telling the story? Yes,Katniss Everdeen changes a little, but not enough. By the end she’s still a self-centered, cold,distant person. Very unsympathetic. It’s a good thing Collins threw in lovableside characters to care for. Otherwise Iwouldn’t have made it to the end.

The Best Thing: How easily you fall into the story.

The Worst Thing: The mutts. Dumbest idea ever.

Holiday Mash-Up

2011-12-05T23:17:00.001-05:00

I know Thanksgivingwas two weeks ago, but we’re coming up on Christmas, so there’s still plenty oftime (and reason) to give thanks. Christmas is definitely a thankful holiday. Thanks to friends. Thanks to family. Thanks to a country that lets you protest thefact that you’re the 99%. So to combineChristmas and Thanksgiving, in honor of the holidays of gratitude, here’s thismonth’s prompt:

“Normally, beforewe ate, Mom sat us around the table and made us list things we werethankful for. But this year, she asked adifferent question. ‘What will you dothis year to make people grateful for you?’”

"Magic Kingdom for Sale--Sold!" by Terry Brooks

2011-12-02T08:32:00.001-05:00

In 1980s Chicago, BenHolliday opens Rosen’s Christmas Wish List (ie. the Sears catalogue) to see amagic kingdom for sale. As a widower andburned-out lawyer, he decides to buy. But as soon as he enters his new fantasy kingdom (complete with dragonsand witches), he finds out not everything is as great as he expected it tobe. Magic Kingdomis a throwback to good old fashion fantasy stories, very unlike Robert Jordanor George R. R. Martin. It starts offpretty slow and Ben’s challenges are repetitive, but when it finally picks up,it becomes a fun, fast-paced romp through a wild and fantastical worldcompletely outside our own. Ben’scynical demeanor is outshined by his new-found wit and newly-developed love forhis friends. Landover is the opposite ofBrooks’ Four Lands in his Shannara series—more like his fun and fancy-freeversion of the fantasy genre, where magic can create entire dinners and dogscan talk.

Best thing: Brooks’ ability to create an entire worldin a single valley.

Worst thing: The slow first half of the book.

Order of Operations

2011-11-20T17:56:00.001-05:00

Devotees (meaning,my mom) will remember a couple years ago when bedbugs ravaged my apartment . .. and my life.

(If you missedthose hellish posts, you can read them here, here and here.)

The other day Iwoke up with a bug bite on my arm. Big. Red. Itchy. I’ll admit, there were tears. Lots of tears. As I rushed towork, I worried myself sick that I’d have to relive hellish posts one, two andthree from above. Then somethinghappened. The bite got worse.

It spread up myarm. It swelled. Hives appeared. Redness crawled through my veins. The bite was so much worse than any bedbugbite I’d ever had. And I was ecstatic!

Even though thebite itself was worse, it wasn’t a bedbug. I’d never been so relieved.

If my life was astory, it would need a major rewrite. You know how, in math, there’s a correct order of operations whensolving complicated equations? It’s thesame thing with storytelling.

Certain actionsmust happen in a certain order to tell a good story. Your climax is the most intense, exciting,crucial part of your plot. Everything that happens before that builds up toyour climax, taking your reader along with the suspense and rising action.

If your climaxcomes first, then your reader reads the most exciting part of your story earlyon. Then,you’re words are backward and everything is just plain boring in comparison. And whowants to read boring unless you’re an English teacher?

If my life was astory, the one bite would’ve been “rising action.” The bedbug plague would’ve been theclimax. Personally, I’m glad I alreadysuffered through the plague. But thenagain, I’m not writing my life story. . . .

Beautiful, Beautiful Irony

2011-11-11T06:48:00.001-05:00

This is the lead ofa story that ran in the Christian ScienceMonitor this week:

“A fired government worker with a protest sign dangled for hours from New York's Tappan Zee Bridge on Monday, backing up traffic for milesbefore dropping into the Hudson River andbeing hauled aboard a police boat. Michael Davitt, of Garnerville, N.Y., hadbeen angry about being dismissed in 2008 from his counseling job with theRockland County mental health department and was well known to law enforcement,county Sheriff James Kralik said.”

So . . . the guywho’s supposed to help the mentalpatients is the one dangling from the bridge?

Irony’s a beautifulthing. Fun to spot in real life. Exhilarating to catch in stories. But irony’s hard to write because it easilycomes off as forced humor, or hits you reader in the face. “Hey! Look! I’m using irony here!”

But when ironyworks, it makes your story soar! Irony’sso true to many of our life’s experiences that a reader loves to see it in astory. Like reading a blog for it’sthoughtful prose. It’s such a subtlesense of humor (“it’s funny ‘cause it’s true”), and such an understated show ofcharacter, that your reader feels smart when he catches on. He feels like he’s caught some elite insight—understoodsomething on a higher plain. Thisengages him more into your story. Andthat’s what your want in the end.

Don’t discountirony in your stories. In fact, look forplaces to use it. Frasier didn’t run 11 seasons on NBC for nothing.

(Here’s the full Tappan Zee story.)

"In the Company of Angels," by Thomas Kennedy

2011-11-10T23:09:00.001-05:00

The story of NardoGreene, a Chilean school teacher who was imprisoned and tortured duringPinochet’s regime in the 1970s, and his rehabilitation at a Copenhagen clinic. Nardo’s angry, distrustful and closed in thebeginning, but by working with his therapist (Thorkild Kristensen), he reliveshis torture and overcomes his trauma. Kennedyactually works in a similar clinic, and his research is evident—many of Nardo’storturous experiences are based on historical fact. Because of that, the violence is prevalentand extremely graphic. (He pays equal attention to sex andlanguage.) He’s a very internalwriter—the characters don’t really doanything—the book is heavily weighted to characters’ thoughts, dialogue andrelationships with each other. The othercharacters (Kristensen, Michela Ibsen and Voss Andersen) all revolve aroundNardo. Each of them goes through theirown downfall and redemption, but to get to that redemption, you have to wadethrough a lot of darkness. I don’t knowif the redemptions are redeeming enough to counter that darkness.

Best thing: The message—love conquers all.

Worst thing: The horrific, explicitly detailed shows ofthe worst side of humanity.

All Thanks Day

2011-11-05T11:55:00.000-04:00

November’s writingprompt is obvious. But instead of givingyou an opening line, here’s a picture: “Freedom from Want,” by Norman Rockwell.

Although this isn’ta “Thanksgiving” painting, it does represent the comfortable meeting of ourneeds—for which we should be thankful.

The 99% need toremember they’re not the 80%—the 80% of the world who live on less than $10 aday. (It costs more than that to servicethe porta-potties they use.)

Writing Emotional

2011-10-30T21:07:00.000-04:00

It’s been a rough coupleof weeks.

You know, I’ve actuallyfelt emotions and stuff.

Between work andtime crunches and life in general, my ceiling’s caved in and I’ve actually hadto deal with this emotional (dare I say fragile) state I’ve been in.

The weird thingabout living in the City is, it’s an augmenter. I’ve posted before about New Yorkers pushing to the extreme theirhobbies. Or work. Or cheesecake. Or whatever else they do. When you live in the City, you either go bigor go home (as Rican would say).

It’s the same withyour emotions.

When you’re havinga good day, you’re having a greatday! You’re on top of the world. You livein New York, after all. But you’re not just living here, you’reconquering the City! Your day looks likethis:

On the flipside,when you’re having a bad day, it’s the endof the world. You live in a congested, smelly,nature-less pit. The City isn’tconquering you, it’s smashing you into little bits and spitting on your remains. Your day looks like this:

Unfortunately, forthe past couple weeks, most of my days have been more of the latter. But there is a silver-lining....

When you findyourself in an emotional state, start writing.

Writing when youremotions are extreme is the best way to tap into the true selves of yourcharacters. It’s like running a milewhen you’re pumped with adrenalin—you’ve got the energy to do it. With stories, you’ve got the passion to doit.

If you’re a goodwriter, your characters are emotional characters. They feel. They think. They celebrate. They doubt. They’re happy and sad and excited and worried and motivated andscared—all at the same time. Why doemotional characters make good characters? Because that’s how humans are. That’show we are. And the best way to bring those emotions outin your characters is to tap into your own emotions. And the best way to tap into your emotions isto do so when you’re actually feeling them. Being sad doesn’t mean writing sad. Being happy doesn’t mean writing happy. It means writing emotional.

For better orworse, for happiness or sadness, as uncomfortable as emotions might be, whenyou’re feeling them, write.

Book Reviews

2011-10-16T18:35:00.004-04:00

Ijust finished one of the best books I’ve ever read . . . and one of the worst. Reading them back to back, not only couldI compare good and bad writing, but just plain good and bad story-telling.

Since I blog aboutwriting, from here on out I’m going to blog a review whenever I finishwhatever’s in my satchel. Let’s startwith one of the best books I’ve ever read:

The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak

A story of10-year-old Liesel Meminger’s life in her adoptive parents’ home, and theirexperience of hiding a Jewish man in their basement during 1939-1943Germany. A look at non-Nazi Germansduring the War—the struggles they faced and fear they lived in. Zusak touches on the beauty of words in aplace where words were hated. Incredibly,he creates a world so outside our own, yet one we can still relate to. His character development is extremely strong. You feel like you build relationships withthem as they build them with each other. Monologues and dialogues grip you in their beauty. His ability to actually draw you into thisworld is unequaled to any book I’ve read in a long time.

Best thing about the book: The narrator—Death

Worst thing about the book: Death gives away the ending half-waythrough the book

Forever, by Pete Hamill

Dumb! After his parents arekilled, 17-year-old Irish Cormac O’Conner travels to New York in 1740 to avenge their deaths. There, he turns immortal as long as he never leavesManhattan. But he fails to end the bloodline of hisparents’ killer, so he’s doomed to hell—but because he can’t leave Manhattan, he has no hopeof a better afterlife. The cover touts itas an in-depth look at the wonderful and horrible experiences that made New York what it istoday. It’s actually about a man whosleeps with a lot of women and spends the next 250 years associating witharrogant, obnoxious jerks. Horriblepacing. Annoying, flat characters. Choppy dialogue. Completely unremarkable wordsmithing. And he skips the entire 20th Century!

Best thing: Nothing

Worst thing: That it was written

All Hallows Eve

2011-10-14T08:11:00.002-04:00

The obvious prompt for October is, of course, none other than that spookiest of allholidays, Halloween! And your prompt is:

“The Talking Jack‘o’ Lantern”

Have a ghoulishlygood time!

How d'You Like Them Apples?

2011-09-30T16:48:00.002-04:00

With a hearty helloto autumn, Jen wanted to celebrate by picking apples. (For us City-dwellers, we get so deprived ofnature that, yes, we’ll pay people tolet us pick our own produce.) So we tookthe train to Croton Falls, where at OuthouseOrchards (I know—I can think of a dozen fertilizer jokes, too) we had the utmostpleasure of experiencing autumn like normal folks, doing things such as. . . .

Playing on tractors. . .

Going on hay rides. . .

Chasing chickens .. .

. . . And eatingthem . . .

And of course,picking apples. Some of the good oneswere easy to pick.

Some of the goodones required a bit of climbing.

But Jen couldn’tget enough.

Red Delicious,Braeburns, Galas, Fujis, McIntoshes, Granny Smiths, we picked all sorts—andbarely scratched the surface. Apparently, you can eat an apple a day for 20 years and never eat the same type of apple twice!

When writing astory, like when picking apples, you have loads of different characters tochoose from. Good, bad, funny, serious,hot, ugly. Some writers give one amustache, another a beard, or work one as a bartender, the other as a waiter. That’s not good enough. Like apples, each character should be verydifferent from the other.

Play withpersonalities—who are these people, really? Make one insecure, another arrogant; one a yes-man, another a go-getter;one a recluse, another a gadabout. Peopledon’t just look different, they act different, speak differently, havedifferent mannerisms. They’re thoselittle details (a catch phrase or nervous twitch) that add reality,authenticity, and tangibility to your story. They’re those varieties of character that make your world feel full.

And that’s what youwant. Just like we were after eating allthose varieties of apples, you want your reader to walk away from your book . .. full.

Goodbye Summer

2011-09-23T12:47:00.000-04:00

Well, it’sofficial. Summer is over and autumn ishere.

Don’t get mewrong—I love autumn. It’s my favoriteseason, especially on the EastCoast. School starts, football’s back,sweaters get pulled out of storage, leaves change colors. And the Shake Shack brings back their PumpkinPie Concrete!

But despite all theplusses of autumn, I can’t help but miss summer. So here’s a farewell to the lazy season with somethingthat epitomizes the perfect summerday.

Oh, Bill Watterson, where are you...?

First Day of School, First Day of School

2011-09-07T17:33:00.004-04:00

It’s kind of agiven that this months’ writing prompt should be about school since (1) I’m ateacher and (2) we all know someone who’s starting school. So on that line, here’s September’s start tostorytelling:

“Toting my newbackpack, I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. I skipped to the classroom assignments and found the list for sixthgrade. It was going to be the best yearever! After finding my name, I ran myfinger across the page and my heart stopped. My grin fell. My backpack felloff my slumped shoulders. I had MrsCrabtree....”

Happy schooling!

Anticlimactic

2011-08-28T20:48:00.003-04:00

I’m glad to say Isurvived Hurricane Irene last night. AndI’m sorry to say, well, that wasanticlimactic....

How many times haveyou heard that phrase? It’s used all the time to describe books, movies,songs, events, whatever. How many timeshas it been a good thing? Never!

Yesterday, theentire MTA system shut down at noon.

Shopping, I entereda madhouse filled with frantic buyers loading up on water.

Walking through theneighborhood, half the businesses were closed.

Sheltersopened. Thousands of people evacuatedinto those shelters. And then the stormhit. Now, I know elsewhere in New York something like3,000,000 people are without electricity.

Downtown streetsare flooded.

One of the tubes inthe Lincoln Tunnel is flooded.

Three bridges areshut down, plus the lower level of the GW Bridge.

But on the Upper West Side? The sun is shining. A breeze is blowing. A few leaves litter the ground. Some puddles spot the streets. Up here it was very anticlimactic....

When you write, theclimax of your story is the most intense, most exciting, most difficult andmost growing experience of your protagonist’s life. But sometimes (I’m thinking Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series) you spend so much timebuilding up to the climax that you die before you get there. Literally. Not only do you lose readers, but for those who make it to the climax,they’re left with just a pale shadow of what was building up in theirimagination, which, in turn, leaves them underwhelmed and disappointed. And like the phrase above, that’s never a good thing in fiction.

Don’t get mewrong—I’m glad NY overreacted to the hurricane. It’s better than the alternative. But when it comes to writing, you want your character (literally or figuratively)to dangle by one hand holding the last inch of a thread over a 500-foot cliffin torrential rains and buffeting winds as the antagonist hammers down blowsupon him and his long-sought-for-love as she strains to grasp his one freehand.

Now that’s climactic!

Ferragosto

2011-08-07T14:31:00.004-04:00

In Italy, prettymuch the entire country shuts down during August. They call it ferragosto—an actual holiday on August 15th, but they just take thewhole month off for vacation. The wholemonth! If you don’t live on the beach,your city is dead. So, in honor ofvacation, here’s this month’s writing prompt:

“Mom and Dad loadedus up in the station wagon, piling us in like we were luggage. For six hours we drove under the blazing sun,without air conditioning, round and about twisting and turning roads. Finally we arrived at a crystalline lake,towering green trees, a rustic log cabin, and the summer that would change mylife.”

Happy vacationing!

Write What You Don't Know, Part II

2011-07-31T14:23:00.005-04:00

If you’re anythinglike me, you grew up in middle-class suburbia. Rows of houses indistinguishable from each other. Lawnmowers rumbling on Saturday mornings. Two cars in every driveway. And two-and-a-half kids in every house.

There’s nothingwrong with middle-class suburbia—I loved my childhood. But if you are like me, and we all hold to the mantra “write what you know,”then we’ll all end up writing run-of-the-mill, boring books where Dad and Mom goto their nine-to-five, kids go to school and shirk their homework, and nothinghappens.

Fortunately, you’renot all like me. And, more importantly,we’re changing the mantra to: Write whatyou want to know.

If you followedlast week’s post, you’re writing what you care about, what you’re interested in,what you’re passionate about. But whatdo you do if you don’t know a lot about your interest? That’s easy—get to know it!

If you want towrite about Westward Expansion and Manifest Destiny....

Do some research atthe library and visit some museums.

If you want towrite about the circus....

Go to the circusand talk to some of the performers.

If you want writeabout high-rollers on Wall Street....

Book a trip to theCity and schedule a Q&A.

The point is, youdon’t have to write only about whatyou know about life first-hand. You canwrite about anything you want. And thebest way to start is to write about what you care about. And the best way to write about that is to do your research so you canwrite about it well. And if you get toknow it well enough, your reader will close your book and say, “Did he used torun with the circus before he wrote?”

Imagination +Passion + Research = A Good Story

One final tip: yourstory isn’t about the circus. It’s not aboutWall Street. It’s about the conflictyour characters are going through, setin those places as a backdrop. There’snothing worse than a story that “seems to be about what it’s about.”

Write What You Don't Know, Part I

2011-07-21T21:27:00.005-04:00

“Write what youknow” was originally stated with good intent. Writers draw from personal experiences to add an authenticity that lacksin research-based stories.

Unfortunately, toomany authors today take this mantra to heart. Now we’re slapped with a slew of wannabes penning about starving artistsscrimping by in a big city, tormented by love and their big idea. “What we have here is a portrait of a classicAmerican author struggling with his art in the face of capitalisticcommercialism.”

Lame! Characters don’t doanything. Plots don’t move. Suspense doesn’t develop. And all because these poor tortured authorsare writing what they know.

So let’s change themantra. Write what you care about!

Want to write aboutlove? What do you love? Want to write about passion? What are you passionate about? No matter how prolific your diction, howcopious the profundity of your opulent expressionism, if you don’t care aboutwhat you write, and if you don’t think others should care about it, then whocares what you know?

In his essay How to Write with Style, Kurt Vonnegutsaid, “Find a subject you care about and which you in your heart feel othersshould care about. It is this genuinecaring, and not your games with language, which will be the most compelling andseductive element in your style.”

I like that word,seductive. If you write about charactersand struggles and triumphs you care about, you really take to heart, yourreaders will know. They’ll be seduced byyour passion, entrenched in your plot, enraptured by your conflict. And that’sa good story!

All because you wrotewhat you cared about.

Midsummer Night's Assignment

2011-07-10T08:00:00.004-04:00

I know it’s notMidsummer, but it is the middle ofsummer. Thus, in honor of that, yourwriting prompt for this month is as follows:

“We spent our daysriding bikes, swimming in the canal, climbing trees, playing on the jungle gym,sneaking fudgecicles from the freezer, finding ways to forget our one singlechore: milking Bessie. The morning dadblew his lid and made us milk her firstthing, we walked to the pasture and realized we’d forgotten something elsethe night before—to close the gate.”

Good luck. Have fun. Enjoy your summer!

The Station Agent

2011-06-26T14:31:00.003-04:00

Once upon a time, Tom was on his way home from a long day at the restaurant. Being a chef, he didn’t get off work till very late, and often the subway stations were abandoned and empty. Commuting home alone was a common occurrence. However, on this day, he was glad not to be alone.

Standing on the platform, Tom pulled out his cell phone to check the time.

As he did so, it slipped from his hand, hit the ground and broke into pieces—one of which was the battery cover, which tumbled down onto the track.

Now, even though a train wasn’t due for 10 minutes, it’s highly illegal to jump down onto the tracks. Besides, Tom had flashes of getting hit by a train, so he opted out and, instead, approached the station agent on duty.

Through the glass, he said, “The battery cover for my cell phone fell onto the track.”

She didn’t say anything—just smacked her gum.

“Can you come get it for me?”

Still not saying anything, she followed Tom to where he was standing and looked onto the tracks. Lo and behold, there was the battery cover. She walked to the custodian’s closet, pulled out a broomstick without a broom and returned to Tom. She looked at him, then pulled the gum from her mouth, stuck it onto the end of the stick, reached the stick down and stuck it onto the battery cover. Then she pulled it back up, unstuck the battery cover off the stick and handed it Tom—her gum still stuck to the battery cover!

Tom took it. “Um ... thanks.”

Without a word, she turned on her heels and returned to her booth, where she slipped another stick of gum into her mouth.

When trying to come up with characters for your stories, look at the people you encounter every day. The cashier. The bus driver. The janitor. The co-worker. What are their habits? What are their twitches? What are their eccentricities? Pay attention to the people around you and you’ll never run out of funny, quirky, true-to-life characters that will enliven, enrich, and en-deepen your story from a simple story to a scene of real life.

Gregor McDoggal

2011-06-12T10:11:00.003-04:00

If you’re anything like me, more than once you’ve sat down to write, looked at the blank page and just stared, struggling with an idea that (you swear) is on the tip of your brain and if you could just start it the next great American novel would practically write itself. But where to start? Eventually you leave your room and someone asks “What were you doing?” and you say “Writing” even though it’s not true but you make yourself feel better by saying “thinking” is a part of the writing process.

Sometimes, believe it or not, it’s better to not be a recluse; pull yourself out of your room, brave the sunlight, interact with other human beings and bounce ideas off each other. This can actually be very good for your writing. For example, here’s a recent message chain on my sister’s Facebook page (click on the image to expand it to readability size):

See? Who wouldn’t want to read a story about a penny-pinching, circus-trained, dog-loving Scottish businessman who wears clothes “as seen on TV” and lives in a swamp?

A Light in the Attic

2011-06-05T14:13:00.001-04:00

Start the summer off strong writing from your imagination. For June, write a short story starting with the line:

“Mom had stored my winter clothes in the attic, the last place I wanted to look—it was cold, dark, dusty. When I climbed up, I didn’t find my clothes, but something else entirely, something I’d long hoped to forget.”

Good luck!

Let's Try This Again....

2011-05-31T22:22:00.001-04:00

If you recall last year’s post, Memorial Day 2010 was an event—event enough that I broke up my post into two parts! To sum up, it started with a hike and MacGyver-esque first-aid job, and ended with the FDNY invading our barbecue and confiscating our grill. (You can read Part 1 and Part 2 here.)

Memorial Day 2011 was no less eventful, but much more successful.

Rather than a hike, Anita, Julia, Jordan, Jen and I spent this year at Rockaway Beach, one of the few clean, free beaches in the City.

It wasn’t extremely warm (even a little overcast) and being an idiot that, I decided I didn’t need sunscreen. (I’d forgotten my body hadn’t seen sun since September.) Long story short, aloe vera and I have become best friends these last couple days.

What’s a summer holiday without a barbecue? Yes, despite last year’s fiasco, we held another rooftop barbecue. For graduation last year, after reading my post, my parents gave me a George Foreman grill. All electric. All legal. And it worked great!

We ran an extension cord down the side of the building and fed it through our kitchen window. We “fired” up burgers, dogs, steaks, the whole repertoire—we even made animal style burgers by grilling onions and other condiments. The grill worked like a charm, and even if the fire department showed up, they’d have had no reason to persecute us or confiscate our equipment.

Memorial Day success!

Me holiday can teach you two lessons about your writing: (1) When things go right, it doesn’t always make the most interesting story. Last year’s post was a lot more fun to read and write. (2) If something in your writing isn’t going right, don’t abandon the idea right away. Rework it. Change a few things. Rewrite it till it does work. It might take a while, it might take some major reworking, but eventually the situation you’re struggling with will work out and you’ll have success!

PS—A special thanks to the men and women who are current and former US Military members. It’s people like you who have kept my brother and cousin, and grandpa, safe.

The Syruping of the Maples

2011-05-16T19:00:00.002-04:00

Fact #1: Maple sapping season lasts about six weeks.

Fact #2: It takes about 50 gallons of sap to make one gallon of syrup.

Fact #3: Ninety-nine percent of the world’s maple syrup comes from the North East.

In March, Jen, Eric, Mala, Jane, Erin, Nat and I drove north of the city to Croton’s Maple Farm to see the syruping of the maples (and have a home-cooked breakfast with fresh maple syrup).

We pet the farm animals on display for tourists.

We learned to tap a tree. Yes, we tapped that.

And we ate a breakfast of pancakes and bacon—every last drop.

We made our very own maple cotton candy....

And gave it away.

The best part was seeing the evolution of making maple syrup. Native Americans cut a trough out of a log, filled it with sap, and put in fire-heated rocks, boiling down the sap till it eventually thickened into syrup. This took months.

Colonists hung a pot of sap over a fire. As the sap boiled down, they’d add more and more till it thickened into the syrup they wanted. This took weeks.

Today, reverse-osmosis sucks 50% of the water out of the sap before it’s boiled down in massive temperature-regulated boilers into the luscious liquid we find in the stores.

Croton’s Maple Farm had cool stuff to see, but the coolest was seeing how people made syrup back in the day. The same goes for writing.

Reading classics, reading lit from past centuries, might seem like a tedious chore. In fact, sometimes it is a tedious chore. But don’t shun them because they’re important to writing. Reading classics, seeing how writers did it back in the day, teaches you the history of your craft. It instills in you an appreciation for your art. It helps you draw on the talent of excellent writers. Don’t copy the style of the classics—you live and write in the present. And don’t dismiss 21st century books—it’s important to know what’s being written today. But just like experiencing the history of maple syrup, next time you’re in a bookstore, pick up and experience a classic. Reading classics will help turn your writing from work into a work of art.

May's Mission

2011-05-08T14:12:00.000-04:00

Your writing mission for the month of May, if you so choose to accept it, is to write a short story inspired by the following words:

“Tree house”

What are you thinking of right now? Start writing it! Let your imagination loose. Let your thoughts go wild. And let your pencil do the work.

As usual, feel free to email me your story.

Out on a Limb

2011-04-30T12:24:00.001-04:00

A week after I moved to the City, Andrew, Jeff and I got locked out of our apartment. We came home about 2:00 am to find the deadbolt broken. From the inside.

We jimmied and jiggled and shimmied and shook our keys in the lock. Each in turn. Nothing. We went on the roof, thinking about jumping to the neighboring building and climbing through my open window. Way too far!

So, after sitting on our landing for an hour, we ran through our options. (1) Call the landlord? We didn’t have his number. (2) Wake up the super? He wouldn’t get up.

(3) Call a locksmith? We didn’t want to pay the $200 fee. (4) Aha! Climb up the fire escape and climb in through Jeff’s window!

So down we went to the bottom floor. I grabbed the last rung of the ladder, pulled myself up, and scurried to the 5th floor. Tadaa! But alas, Jeff’s window was locked.

I yelled the bad news to Andrew and Jeff, and as I sat there, I noticed a ledge on the floor above me. It stuck out six inches from the wall, and ran across the face of the building, ending right at the roof of the neighboring building.

So, up I climbed to the sixth floor, over the railing, and balanced on the ledge. I glanced at the street 60 feet below, then focused on the roof about 15 feet away. Inch by inch, I crept along the ledge, arching around A/C units, trying to hug the building, till I finally landed safely on the roof of the next building.

Then I hurried to the pit and sat on the edge. At this point, Andrew and Jeff were yelling at me from our roof to stop and be careful and climb back and a bunch of other stuff. I draped myself over the edge of the pit, in the corner (50 feet off the ground), reached out my foot, perched it on my windowsill, reached out my hand (I’m hanging by one hand now), grabbed my window, let go of the ledge and pulled myself into the window well.

Since my window was open, I slipped inside, hurried down the hall, unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door. We were in!

At some point in you’re writing, you’re going to get stuck—with a character, a conflict, a plotline, a situation, You’ll write yourself into a corner. When that happens, don’t get frustrated. Don’t back out. Just sit there and think. It might take a while. It might hurt your brain. You might have to go out on a limb and contemplate ideas you normally wouldn’t. But take some chances. Eventually, you’ll work it out. And when you do, (1) you’ll be elated. (2) You’re characters will prove how smart they are. And (3) your readers will be awe-struck. It’s a win-win-win.

An Overstayed Welcome

2011-04-24T15:52:00.001-04:00

Once upon a time, Jack Frost came to visit Mother Earth. His visit was nothing new, seeing as he visited every year about this time, just as Autumn Aaron was finishing up his work. But the thing about Jack is, while Mom Earth never gets enough of Budding Buster, Sunshine Sammy or Aaron Autumn (they always leave far too early for anyone’s liking), Jack’s the one guest who notoriously overstays his welcome.

And this year is no exception.

Jack Frost came to the City early, and once a week reminded us he was still here as he dumped more and more snow on us. Literally, every week. (He must’ve gotten his snow shipment on Tuesdays, because Wednesdays were out-and-out blizzards.)

Now, in mid-Marsh-ish, usually Budding Buster comes to visit. He dispels all Jack’s hard work and makes trees start to sprout, flowers start to bud, and green grass start to appear. But this year, Jack wouldn’t let Buster in.

Buster knocked.

He rang the doorbell.

He shouted at the window.

But Jack distracted Mom Earth and kept his budding little buddy as far away from her as possible.

The result? Jack’s handiwork remained—the cold, the dark, the wet, the chill—until we forgot what it was like to walk outside without dressing for the Iditarod.

I’m not sure how else to say it except it’s been so freakin’ cold! C’mon—it’s almost April! My internal heater gave out weeks ago and I’ve been freezing ever since. I even wore thermals this week—in mid-April! This winter has lingered, loitered, held on with every last icy little grip. I don’t usually complain about the cold, but I’m very ready for Spring to be here.

(Fortunately, it’s supposed to be in the 70s this week. Keep your fingers crossed. Please.)

The moral? When it comes to your writing, you’re going to have some long winters. Dark, unproductive periods when you can’t seem to be creative, be witty, be spontaneous with your characters or plotlines. And sometimes those dark days will linger and loiter and hang on till you can’t remember what it’s like to actually write something on a blank page. But don’t give up.

Eventually things will warm up. Eventually that internal heater will kick on and you’ll be loving life because characters and stories and conflicts and resolutions will be budding and springing up all over the place! You’ll hardly know what to do with yourself, except live happily ever after....

April's Assignment

2011-04-03T09:23:00.001-04:00

Alright, it’s that time again—here we go with another writing prompt. The rules are simple: write a short story based on the sentences below. Beyond that, let your imagination run wild. (That’s when writing becomes the most fun anyway.)

If you want to email your story to me, feel free. My dad emailed me his last month, and while it was a “fictional,” I think most of it was autobiographical.

So here goes! Write a short story that starts with this line:

“On May 1st, my birthday, Eldon Baker picked the reddest rose from his mother’s garden, walked to Ellen Pearson’s house, and asked the love of his life to marry him. She said no. On May 2nd, he joined the army and hopped the first train out of town.”

The Driver

2011-03-31T20:07:00.001-04:00

Last month, Educational Testing Services selected me for a two-day panel to redefine the nationwide reading proficiency levels of graduating seniors. It wasn’t end-all-be-all; the 15 of us were just getting the ball rolling—starting the five-year process.

Going in, I had no idea what to expect. I’d never sat on a panel, never participated in defining a curriculum or educational standard. But by week’s end, I’d loved it!

ETS set us up at their Princeton headquarters, a hotel/resort with a swimming pool, gym, tennis courts, catered cafeteria, fountains, and acres of landscaped property. It was incredible! (Granted, February is still cold, but if it was summertime, I would’ve been on cloud nine.) Still, I was treated like a king.

Room service. Daily newspapers delivered to my room. Five-course meals, every meal! Drivers and tour guides to Princeton.

And the directors, as well as the other teachers, were cool. Friendly. Supportive. Interesting to talk to and interested in talking to me. We became close during the two days, and I’m glad I got to work with them. But despite the posh-ness and pampering, I met one person who I remember most.

The driver. Don.

At the Trenton train station, I asked if I could take his picture. “Seriously?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’ve never had someone pick me up using a name plate before.”

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, but make it quick.”

In a private car, he drove me to ETS’s headquarters and we had great conversation. He grew up in the area, loved driving and meeting people (he loved his job), told me funny stories about past passengers, and even gave me a history lesson of the area.

My very own private driver.

When you write—novel or micro-fiction—don’t discount characters you create. They enrich your writing. To do that, they must be developed in your head. Know who they are, where they come from, why they act the way they do. When you figure that out, one of them might just become a main character in a spin-off story. I’ve done it. Piers Anthony does it. Edward P. Jones does it. Authors do it all the time.

The person you least expect might become the most memorable of an experience. A one-line character might spur an entire novel. You never know, so pay attention.

Academia

2011-03-20T15:51:00.001-04:00

I’m an English teacher at Fairleigh Dickinson University. Even though academic writing isn’t the most enjoyable subject to teach (or do), I like it and try to make it fun. However, unlike creative writing, where “creative” is the keyword, function takes over form, you get to break the rules of English so you can add “artistic” flair, run-on sentences are anticipated and fragment sentences are praised, academic writing is so structured, formatted and formulated that it’s easy to get caught up in, confused by, and bogged down by all the thousands of rules you’re trying to follow in an attempt to sound smart and get that “A.” But in that attempt to sound smart, you can quickly become convoluted and confusing.

Bill Watterson hits it on the head with this Calvin and Hobbes strip:

Unfortunately, he’s pretty spot on.

Seeing Stars

2011-03-15T08:54:00.002-04:00

When I lived at my parents’ for undergrad, I realized I loved to stand in their living room, late at night, and look out the window. Their view looked over Ogden but, despite being a good-size city, you could still see a thousand stars winking at you.

For me, the stars were inspiring. I don’t know why. But they were beautiful. Mesmerizing. ...Inspiring. I would watch them wink, spot the occasional falling star, and let my mind wander. It often wandered into stories (some old, some new), reveling in the adventures or conflicts or relationships that gave my characters’ lives meaning. I always walked away from the stars feeling revived.

Soon, however, a thousand stars weren’t enough.

I found I loved driving into the mountains, driving to the neighboring valley, driving anywhere at night where less light let me see millions of stars. On a good night, I’d even see the Milky Way. And again, I’d feel inspired.

Then I moved NY.

On a good night, you’ll see a star. On a great night you’ll see two. Why? Out of all the millions of stars up there, you only see two? Because of this:

And this:

Oh yeah, and this:

NY’s got some great inspirational characteristics. The Hudson. The Statue of Liberty. The Brooklyn Bridge. But they’re not as awe-inspiring as the stars.

Sometimes I miss them but I know they’re still there. Waiting till I can get back to a place where I can actually see them, enjoy them. But for now, when I get a glimpse of that single star winking down on me, I’ll admit, I smile.

The moral of the story?

Sometimes your stories come to you in a flash of inspiration. That inspiration ... inspires you and you get excited. And then, sometimes, those ideas and excitement and inspiration get covered up by life—paying bills, work, errands, other stories themselves. But when you find that excitement dwindling, that inspiration getting covered up with “stuff,” just keep writing. Keep exploring that story. Like stars, you might have to work harder to find the excitement and awe, but they’re still there.

Here's an Idea....

2011-03-05T18:44:00.002-05:00

At Sarah Lawrence, I took a class in which I had to write micro fiction based on certain guidelines. It was tough to expand my imagination within constraints. But I actually ended up creating a character that evolved into an idea for a whole novel.

So, starting this month, I’m giving you a story prompt. Try it out. See what you come up with. It might be tough, but it’ll also be fun—which writing is supposed to be.

For March, write a short story (and then email it to me if you want) that starts with the line:

“The summer I turned twelve, I got my first paper route, my first kiss, and my first black eye.”

The Revolution Resolution

2011-02-27T16:27:00.001-05:00

I don’t usually write about politics. I’m iffy to write about it even now because I don’t follow Capitol Hill as close as I should. I’m not really in the know with current events so I usually shy away from politics to avoid looking like a know-nothing.

But lately I’ve been reading about Libya’s revolution. And by “reading” I mean “obsessing.” It all started with this article in USA Today and I’ve been devouring any information I can get my hands on since.

Not because of the violence. Not because of the good vs. evil. Not even because of democracy’s progression throughout the world. But mainly because this is the first time this generation has gotten a real-world glimpse of what our own country must’ve gone through, of what America’s revolution must’ve been like.

For the average Joe, America’s revolution is a glorified epic of political, social and spiritual promise. In the overall idea of it, I’m okay with that view. But something that’s new to me since I’ve been reading about Libya, is the devotion, self-sacrifice, and fervor these Libyans have for freedom.

They’re letting their voices be heard. They’re spilling their blood. They’re literally dying to be free.

But not all Libyans want freedom. Not all Libyans want democracy. Many are staunch supporters of Gadhafi. Many fight for him—for what they believe in.

What does this mean? Brother against brother. Father against son.

What went on in our own country in 1776? Did brothers fight brothers? Did fathers aim rifles at sons? As I sit here at my computer, in my cozy Manhattan apartment, I can’t imagine what’s going through a Libyan’s head right now. And yet, he holds fast to his devotion for what he believes is right and true. He’s passionate about his beliefs. He stands firm for his cause. He’s willing to give up his life so others can live a better life than he did. That’s a real resolution for revolution—the resolve to fight for a better life, and give your own if necessary, for those coming behind you.

I was going to compare the people of Libya to your resolution to your writing. But it all just seems so frivolous now. Instead, I’ll end with this:

What do you believe in? And are you ready to stand up for it? Because no matter what you believe in, in any area of your life, eventually you will have to be strong and fight to keep that belief alive.

Picking up the Pieces

2011-02-20T10:18:00.003-05:00

Like Lego bricks, sometimes a bunch of random pieces of life all fit together to create a happenstance that’s memorable, an event that’s meaningful, or a relationship that’s remarkable. For example:

(1) April 2009: Attend my first Yankee’s game

(2) April 2010: Attend second Yankee’s game; memorize “New York, New York”

(3) Saturday AM: Pouring rain; Jen borrows my umbrella

(4) Sunday AM: Still pouring, Jen takes said umbrella to church in Harlem

(5) Sunday PM: Umbrella is nowhere to be found

(6) Monday AM: OnBoard readies tour bus (OnBoard buses have sideways stadium seating; tours include staged dances, songs or robberies—complete with spotlights shining onto the scene—to spice up tourist’s experience)

(7) Monday PM: Justin arrives from Utah

(8) Tuesday AM: Temperature drops to -1,000 degrees

(9) Tuesday AM: Justin and I go food-shopping for tutoring

(10) Tuesday PM: While cooking for tutoring (in Harlem), I find my umbrella

(11) Tuesday PPM: Leaving from the church, we go to Junior’s for cheesecake

(12) Tuesday PPPM: Leaving Junior’s, we walk up through Times Square

(13) Tuesday PPPPM: Times Square is empty (remember: -1,000 degrees)

(14) Tuesday P...you get the idea: In the middle of Times Square, on a wide sidewalk, an OnBoard bus stops, shines its spotlights on us, and plays “New York, New York” on the loudspeakers

So what do we do? We start lip syncing. We start dancing. We’re using the umbrella as a cane, twirling it around, spinning on our heels. We can see the tourists laughing, and the tour guide at a loss of what to do because we’re not the performers she’s expecting to see. Unbeknownst to us, the real performer is standing off to the side, not sure what to do because two schmoes just stole his spotlight—literally.

After our Tony-worthy rendition of Frank Sinatra, we move on our merry way.

When it comes to writing, keep track of all the random little thoughts and experiences you have (sights, sounds, smells, interactions, etc.) because, one day, eventually, each of those little experiences will come together to add detail, provide character traits, influence conflict, or possibly create a whole story for you.

Sometimes the adding up is magic, sometimes it’s blood, sweat and tears. But you can’t build a castle if you don’t have bricks.

No matter how insignificant it is, nothing is wasted.

Which Witch is Which

2011-02-12T10:41:00.003-05:00

I’m back!

How often? Don’t know. For how long? Won’t pretend to commit. But despite all statements to the contrary, I’ve actually missed writing on my blog. And seeing how we’re six weeks into 2011, what better time to start the New Year’s resolutions I’ve been procrastinating.

(Note to self: recommit to “stop procrastinating” resolution....)

People ask me a lot where I get my ideas from. For stories. As if there’s an secret Ideas ‘R’ Us only writers know about. I hate that question ‘cause there’s no one answer—and the answer’s different for everybody.

Music. Friends. The cockroach you squashed in the corner. Ideas come from anywhere and everywhere. However, if you’re deaf, or a loner, or live in a sanitary apartment (I envy you), coming up with ideas can be rough. Especially when staring at a blank page. In that case, start with the basics—the newspaper.

Metro and AM New York are free newspapers commuters here read on the train. Microwave papers—they offer 30-second bits on bigger stories. A story a stop. (Hey, that should be their tagline!) Just enough to inform you, but never in any depth. I read this article the other day and couldn’t pass it up.

Apparently, it’s now legal (in every taxable sense of the word) to work as a witch and practice witchcraft in Romania. Witchery is a legit business. People can buy a product. Witches offer receipts. And (the best part) if their products don’t work, witches can be reported to the Better Business Bureau (Romanian branch) and/or sued for false advertising.

It’s like McDonald’s. Fast-brew witchery. “I’ll have two hexes, a curse, and a side of love potion, please ... and supersize it.”

So ... what’s the idea? Well, I’ve got one in mind. What about you?

Live a Life You Love

2010-08-01T22:05:00.001-04:00

Item #1

Let me apologize for not writing much this summer. Especially this past month, I’ve been insanely busy with life. I started teaching in Jersey and that pretty much just sucked all my free time. In a good way!

Item #2

Let me say that this will be my last blog for a while. It’s been a year. It’s been fun. But before life hit the fan, I’d been devoting so much time and effort into my posts that it took away from my personal journal writing, and my story writing as well. Those are things that I miss and I want to focus more time and attention to them. Especially journal writing—writing my thoughts down in a personal document helps me figure out my own stance on life and just what I’m doing with myself.

Item #3

The reason life has been so busy lately is because I’ve been teaching. All I’ve done all month, literally, is prepare lessons all morning, teach all day, and grade papers all night. Every day. I’ve gotten no sleep. My social life has gone down the tubes. I haven’t written a single word all month. But I’ve absolutely loved it! Watching my kids walk across the stage on Friday, getting the certificate for completing this introductory program into college, was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. To watch them succeed at something they struggled with so much (I taught English and culture) was heart-warming, for lack of a better word. To be part of their betterment and improvement of life was such an uplifting feeling, I floated all the way home. I wrote Megan told her, “Now I realize why you do what you do.” Teaching is tough. It’s intense. It’s time consuming. It’s taxing on the nerves and the brain. But to see your kids improve and succeed is such an incredible, emotional experience, that I can hardly describe it—which isn’t a good thing for a writer. But rarely have I ever felt so fulfilled.

Item #4

Live a life you love. I’ve found my calling. That’s a big statement, but I have. Find what you love and do it. Yes, you have responsibilities and you have things you have to do. But start small. Start with a hobby. Find something you love and do it. Live it. Make it part of you! Loving what you do will manifest itself in everything else you do and people will recognize that. And if you so choose to write it down, you’re writing will be gripping and gratifying because you love it—and readers can tell.

I don’t know when I’ll write next, but until I do, go seize the day!

A Memorable Memorial--Part 2

2010-06-10T12:54:00.002-04:00

For every person you invite to a Mormon party, three show up. So it was with our Memorial Day barbecue—which I barely managed be on time for. (People showed up as I was showering after my hike.) We had about three times as many people show as we expected. Fortunately, they all brought food so we had plenty to eat.

We have a great roof—nice and roomy, view of the Empire State and Chrysler buildings. The weather was perfect. I was purporting much manliness, causing big flames, using Viking-esque utensils to flip burgers and dogs. That is, till some guests showed up we didn’t expect.

As I manned the grill, someone rapped me on the shoulder, and said, “Russell Russell Russell!”

I turned and looked at him. “What!”

Behind him stood two firemen—dressed in full uniform. Oh crap!

“Is there a problem, officer?” I said. Are firemen officers?

The one looked around, looked at me, pointed to the grill and said, “You have to shut this down. Now.”

“What? Why?” I said.

“We got a call the building was on fire.”

“But it’s not.”

“Normally I wouldn’t care,” he said. “But we got the call, so we had to respond.”

My eyes widened. “You got a call? Did you bring a truck?”

The fireman/officer stepped forward. “Son, we brought three trucks.”

I dropped my Viking-cleaver-spatula and ran to the front of the building, looked down on the street and counted one, two, three fire trucks—lights flashing, sirens blaring, firemen meandering about. Traffic was blocked on the entire street. Double crap!

“You have to shut this down,” the fireman said upon my return, “and we have to take your propane tank. It’s illegal to have it in the city—especially in buildings.”

We tried to bribe them with food. Nothing. John tried to talk them down with episodes of Mythbusters. Niente. They said we could keep the grill but not the tank.

“The grill’s no good without the tank,” I said.

He scratched his head. “Yeah, sorry about that.” But he wasn’t budging.

In the end, they gave me a warning (instead of a citation), took our tank and we were left to broil the rest of our food in our oven downstairs. People still hung around and we decided our barbecue was (1) the suck because the fire department shut us down or (2) freakin’ awesome because they brought three fire trucks to shut us down! Either way, it was a Memorial Day that will not be forgotten quickly.

So, back to my original thought—sometimes your stories are too big for one book. Not always, but sometimes. You can cut them down but then you lose meaning. You can condense the pacing but then you lose depth. Instead, embrace the story for what it is and don’t be afraid to write a sequel. A trilogy. Whatever it takes. Imagine the Star Wars trilogy crammed into one movie—way too much in too little space. Your story is important—give it the importance it needs.

PS—The firemen never said anything about grilling with charcoal....

A Memorable Memorial--Part 1

2010-06-03T17:56:00.002-04:00

One problem a writer faces is condensing ideas into a manageable amount of pages a reader will want to pick up. Pages can be cut during editing but sometimes your idea is just too big to fit into one book. That’s the beauty of the sequel.

Thus, I give you A Memorable Memorial—Part 1!

NY isn’t known for its outdoor activities, but I found some hiking trails within an hour or two of the city—accessible by public transit—and for Memorial Day I headed to Harriman Park to scout out a trail for our hiking group.

I started in Tuxedo, a quaint town with a train station, a deli and a corner market. I headed into the forest, up a ridge and toward Lake Skenonto. It was beautiful—full of birds chirping instead of horns honking, towering trees instead of buildings, smells of vegetation instead of exhaust—exactly what I was hoping for.

After a couple hours, I came to the north shore of the lake. I sat on a grassy knoll to eat lunch and enjoy the view. The breeze rustled my hair. The fish flopped in the lake. The hawks soared overhead. Beautiful! After a while, to catch the 4:30 train, I reluctantly packed up and started around the far side of the lake (to explore) and join the trail on the south shore.

The trail over there was thin and overgrown. I pretty much forged my way along the shoreline. A couple of times I lost the trail and had to backtrack to find a different route. I did this all in the name of exploration till I caught my foot on some shrub, tripped and fell. My left leg landed on a broken branch, which stabbed right into my shin. I pulled my leg off, rolled over and looked at the wound.

Blood gushed out of the hole. Not cut—hole! Blood soaked into my sock and shoe. I pulled TP from my pack and held it tight against the wound. That stopped the gushing but not the bleeding. As I sat there, I ran through my options.

#1—Use shirt as tourniquet. But then I’d be hiking in my garment top.
#2—Use garment top as tourniquet. But is that legal?
#3—Use shirt as tourniquet, stuff garment top in pack, hike shirtless.

So I dug through my pack for more TP when I came across my iPod. My earphones were wrapped in a small felt pouch to protect them. I had an idea!

I folded up the TP in a nice bandage, covered that with the felt pouch, then used my earphones as a tourniquet to tie the bandage down nice and tight. And it worked! All those years of watching Survivorman paid off. It wasn’t the best-looking first aid job I’d ever seen. But I wasn’t bleeding anymore. And I made it back down the hill in time to catch the train—fully clothed. Granted, I got some funny looks from other hikers. And it hurt like crazy cleaning it out back home. But home I was, with my leg intact, just in time for mine and Andrew’s Memorial Day barbecue!

Or so I thought. . . .

The Man Behind the Mask

2010-03-11T12:13:00.001-05:00

One of the best things about the city is there’s never a lack of things to do. And when I say “things to do,” I mean “parties to go to.”

Not just birthday parties, but house warming parties, holiday parties, celebrity parties, opening night parties, getting hired parties, getting fired parties. I’ve even gone to a party someone threw just ‘cause it was Thursday.

The other day I went to a masquerade party—one of two in my life—put on by Jen’s apartment. Not only was the venue killer (Lori’s office in SoHo), but masquerade parties are probably the best parties because (1) you socialize with people you normally wouldn’t (you can’t tell who anyone is anyway) and (2) there’s something about being behind a mask that releases all your inhibitions.

When you feel like no one knows who you are, your “image” and your “rep” and your “status” defenestrate themselves. You find yourself acting completely uninhibited and, dare I say, fun! Needless to say, shameless flirting abounds.

(A word of caution—masks are deceiving. No matter how much your roommates insist, it’s not funny when you hit on a girl, the mask comes off, and it ends up being a guy.)

So put on a mask when you write. Not literally—use a pseudonym. Not forever—I definitely won’t. But try it out. Write a story pretending no one will ever know it was you who wrote it, just to see what you end up with. Sometimes it’s tough to break away from our preconceived selves and sometimes that inhibits the imagination. But if you’re not your “self,” you’re working from a clean slate from which inspiration has no and knows no boundaries. Then pay attention to that inspiration so when you sit down to write as yourself, you can tap into that originality.

If you’re free from acknowledgement, free from judgment, free from accountability, you’ll find your writing becomes completely uninhibited and, dare I say, creative!

The Silver Lining

2010-02-28T23:52:00.003-05:00

So it turns out there is a silver lining to having bed bugs.

As you can see below, I sleep in a loft. It’s about seven feet up. The other day, I woke up early and was still pretty groggy. So when I stepped on the ladder to climb down, I didn’t position my weight quite right and it slipped out from underneath me.

I tried to put my other foot down, but missed, making me careen backward off the loft. I tried to grab my bed but couldn’t get a hold of anything. This sent me spinning through the air. In the split second I was falling, all I could think of was how bad it was going to hurt when I hit the hardwood floor.

It was dark. I was still half-asleep. My roommates were all in bed. And I was going to be lying there on the hardwood with half a dozen broken bones. And then—POOF!!!

I landed right on top of the huge pile of fluffy plastic bags filled with clothes. It didn’t even hurt—at all. Didn’t even knock the wind out of me.

I sat there a minute. Did a mental check to make sure I was still all intact. And then, being wide awake now, got up to take a shower.

When your writing isn’t going anywhere, or writer’s block is coming on, make sure you keep writing. Sorta like living out of plastic bags—no matter how bad things get, if you just keep writing, eventually something good will come out of it. There will be a silver lining. It may not save your life, but it will sure feel like it!

The Tale of the Troublesome Trim

2010-02-22T10:31:00.002-05:00

Once upon a time, a boy lived in a concrete jungle. It was a strange jungle, full of constant noises and odd smells, and the creatures that lived there never slept! One day, the boy decided he was looking like the vagabonds that often roam the cement rivers, and decided he needed a haircut. So he packed up his bag, threw on his coat, and ventured out into the concrete and steel wilderness.

He traversed the electrified train tracks, sidled the gum-ridden sidewalks and leaped away from the leopard cars with their honking growls. Finally, he arrived at a gingerbread barbershop where a wicked witch lived. She lured the boy in with promises of sweets and candy and good haircut for cheap.

“Short,” the boy said, as she wrapped him in her magical vinyl spell.

“Not too short,” sneered the witch.

“No, not too short,” the boy replied.

So the witch worked her magic, chanting in a tongue the boy couldn’t understand, clipping with her magical scissors, until she turned the boy to the mirror and said, “What do you think?” The boy was not happy. As promised, the witch cut his hair “not too short,” which the boy realized meant “hardly at all.”

“Can you go a little shorter?” he asked.

“You said not too short,” replied the witch.

“Right, but shorter than this,” said the boy.

So the witch called on the powers of the underworld and ran her razor-sharp clippers upside the boy’s skull. “How’s that?” she sneered, showing the boy the hack job she wreaked. Stunned, dumfounded, aghast, the boy had no option but to let the evil witch finish her horrific work and at least even out his hair (or lack thereof).

As soon as he could, he broke free of her magical vinyl spell, fled the gingerbread barbershop and ran home as fast as he could, where he hoped to salvage himself. But the witch’s mark remained. The only way to fix it would be to let his hair grow out. Would everything turn out okay for the boy in the end? Only time would tell.

The moral of the story? Some editors will try to hack your work. Don’t let them. While they have good advice, listen to and work with them, but you’re the author. You know what you’re going for. Don’t let them use their wicked wiles to cut too much, or make your story something it’s not. Unlike hair, it won’t grow back.

'Nuff Said

2010-02-15T21:07:00.002-05:00

Just in case you were wondering what New Yorkers think of the scourge of humanity, this is an advertisement I saw today in Chelsea. Need I say more?

When Everything Hits the Fan. . . .

2010-02-06T10:15:00.003-05:00

Has your house ever exploded? Neither has mine. But that would’ve been easier to clean up compared to what I’ve gone through all week.

Living in New York is a blessing and a curse. A blessing ‘cause there’s so much opportunity, such an abundance of people and culture. A curse because the scourge of humanity also resides in the city—bed bugs.

I know, I thought bed bugs were a thing of the 1800s, too, till Andrew started looking like a connect-the-dots drawing. Long story short, we all started getting bitten and eventually found one, hanging out on Andrew’s mattress. We bagged him. Little did we know that was the first of many baggings to come over the next few days.

To get rid of bed bugs, you have to bag everything. Everything! All your clothes. All your electronics. All your books, papers, trinkets, toys, office supplies. These little suckers get into everything. You use clear bags ‘cause, if they’re hiding, they come out searching for blood. Little vampires! If you spot them, you throw in poison to kill them. On top of that, everything must be bagged for at least three weeks. The larvae can live that long without blood till they die. Right now, we’ve still got two weeks to go and living out of plastic bags like this is pretty much the suck.

Once you’ve bagged everything (everything!), the exterminators come and basically drench your house in poison (our mattresses were damp). For them to do that, all furniture and your million bags have to be moved away from the walls, so every room ends up with huge piles of stuff crammed in the middle.

That’s just the first spray. They come again two weeks later and you have to repeat the moving and piling and stacking process.

Then, when your hour is most dire, you’re left alone because none of your friends will come near you. Who wants to go through what I just described? No one can help you bag. They might get contaminated. You can’t go to anyone’s house. It might get contaminated. Now I know how plague victims felt in the Dark Ages. (Just to add fuel to the fire, these past two weeks I’ve also had lessons to prepare for my church congregation, church activities to organize, chapters to write for school workshops, lessons to prepare for my students, a cold to fight just for fun, and a clogged toilet to snake.)

So what does this have to do with writing? Every now and then, everything hits the fan. Your life explodes and you’re left running around trying to catch the pieces. When that happens, make sure writing remains high on your list. It’s easy to let slip, but it’ll keep you sane. Just keep writing. You know what they say—some of the best creativity spawns from adversity.

Love Language

2010-01-21T11:23:00.005-05:00

Mostly due to Carolyn’s insistence that my hiatus is over, I’m back!

So Brandon visited the city last week—and did he ever! I hadn’t been such a tourist since I moved here, complete with snapshots and “I Heart NY” t-shirts (nine for $10 on 5th Ave). Fortunately I wore my walking shoes. (Those visiting in May, take note.)

I had a blast seeing Brandon. We hadn’t hung since I left Redlands. And true to his style, he’d researched the entire city to find out what to see and where to go. He knew more about the city that I did! I mean, who knew the trains are numbered and lettered because, back in the day, they were run by different companies?

The coolest thing we did was visit the Music Inn—a cramped little shop on W 4th St, stuffed with the most random collection of musical instruments I’ve ever seen. Half the stuff in there I didn’t even recognize. Most of it was handmade.

On a whim, I asked the owner about a harmonica. A hunched old man with Einstein hair and glasses so thick I think they were originally telescope lenses, he was so excited to help. He pulled out an overflowing box of harmonicas, told me about the different kinds, what to expect, what keys were most common, and a hundred other facts I’ve now forgotten. He even gave me a discount and a pat on the back!

He helped another customer with the same zeal and I decided he must absolutely love working there. He’d probably rather share the beauty of music than do anything else. As a shop owner, he lived that way. As a writer, you should write that way.

Everyone says, “Write what you know.” More importantly, write what you love. If there’s a genre, a style, a plotline you love, write it. If there’s a moral paradox that plagues the human conscious, write it. Don’t listen to what others tell you to write. Write what you love. For my thesis at Sarah Lawrence, I’m writing historical fiction. A respectable genre. Easily literary and commercial simultaneously. It’s fun. But what I love to write is good old fashion adventurous epic fantasy. Elves. Dragons. Magic. The hearty hero triumphing over unbeatable odds. I love it!

Are fantasy novels the best reads out there? Usually not. Are they the best way to develop my talents? That’s debatable. But when you write something you absolutely love (whether it’s vampire romance or moral issues of apartheid), your passion shows in your writing. Readers can see it. Readers can feel it. Just like the bespectacled old man at the Music Inn, when you’re writing what you love and sharing what you love, you’ll love what you’re doing. You don’t need telescope glasses to see that.

PS—Bucket List item #1: learn to play the harmonica.

Holiday Hiatus

2009-12-16T11:09:00.000-05:00

I don't think I've mentioned this before, but I'm a grad student at Sarah Lawrence College, majoring in Creative Writing. As of 7:30 last night, I became a free man for the next five weeks. The semester's over! After four months of intensive thesis revision (and only eight hours of fitful sleep in the last 72 hours) I've become zombie-Russell. So, for the rest of the year, I'm taking a hiatus on writing, including my ever-so-popular blog. Every now and then, you need a break from writing. Time to decompress. Time to let your brain unload. Time! But don't worry. I'll be back in 2010 ready to write. Until then, have a merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Brains and Bookstores

2009-12-07T11:19:00.001-05:00

Check out this bookstore! Natalie and I found it in Salem. I imagine this is what Flourish and Blotts looks like. I don’t know how someone could work like this. (Actually, if you broke down my mom’s day into a to-do list, it would probably look this way….) Books were piled everywhere! Haphazard. No rhyme or reason.

At least that’s what I thought.

When I asked the shopkeeper about a book, he knew exactly where it was. (Luckily, it wasn’t in the middle of a stack.) There was method to his madness!

Writing can be like this. Utter chaos! In your brain, you have hundreds of ideas floating around in random madness. They’re stacked in the corners of your head, strewn across the floor of your mind, piled in a mishmash of thoughts. And when you write, they come out that way. Verbal vomit. (Sort of like a blog.)

Some people systematically organize their thoughts—3x5 cards, Post-it notes, voice memos. This, like the shopkeeper, can help you locate your ideas and put them to use, remember where they were, what they were, and how they apply into the imaginary world you’ve created. But such OC organization isn’t always a must-do.

The process of writing is a process of solidifying your imagination. The more you write, the more you become familiar with your thoughts, the more you’re able to keep track of them, and the more concrete they become. So that means, when you start revising, all these random scatterings of thought fragments actually come together to create a real and vivid world. One that has rhyme, reason and (as mad as it may be) definite method—just like the shopkeeper!

So if the ideas in your head feel like stacks of random books about to topple over, just start writing. Get them down on paper. Sure, the stack might still topple over. But at least you’ll know exactly what you’re dealing with when it does.

Searching Out Inspiration

2009-11-22T09:18:00.004-05:00

Over Halloween weekend, I visited Natalie in Boston. After putting on two jackets and figuring out the T, we headed straight to the North End, ate at Giacomo’s (pumpkin ravioli), gorged on canoli at Mike’s Pastry, walked a bit of the Freedom Trail, saw buildings I don’t remember the names of, visited the Old North Church (where Paul Revere lit one lantern), walked around Harvard University and relaxed in Longfellow’s garden.

And that was Thursday night. Friday was a whole other adventure....

We started out heading to Lexington and Concord, and the Old North Bridge, where the first battle of the Revolutionary War occurred, and the place of which Ralph Waldo Emerson coined the phrase “the shot heard round the world.”

We also visited Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, where Emerson, Thoreau and Louisa May Alcott are buried—after seeing their houses. (They were all pretty much neighbors.) And finally, what’s a trip to Boston for a writer without stop at Walden Pond? (No wonder Thoreau wrote about minimalism—his cabin was the size of my bathroom!)

While it was inspiring seeing all these things and visiting all these places, my favorite part of the trip was sitting on the Old North Bridge, dangling our feet over the edge, talking with Natalie, watching the autumn leaves fall, enjoying the nippy weather, looking at the water flow beneath our feet, just “feeling” the area. Getting a feel for what happened there. The history. The happenings. The sacrifice. The devotion. The devout conviction for what men believed was best for them and their families.

It was inspiring. Inspiring to me as a person and as a writer. Especially as a writer.

Many writers claim they only write when they’re inspired, which is fine, but they wait for inspiration to come to them. If you want to write, and you need inspiration, go find it. Actively search out those people, places, pieces of music, pictures, whatever it is that inspires you and drives you to write. Inspiration’s inspiration. It doesn’t matter if you find it or it finds you. But when it doesn’t come, search it out. NY is an amazing place for writers. It’s the publishing capital of the world. There’s always a ton of authors reading, lecturing on the craft, having poetry slams, doing everything that inspires writers to write. But I’ve found that NY doesn’t inspire me. It doesn’t fill me with the fire of expressing my imagination. It doesn’t drive my imagination to the edges of its limits in epic drama. What does is sitting on a bridge “feeling” nature. What does is standing on a lakeshore listening to water lap and leaves rustle. What does is being where men gave their lives in an epic struggle they believed in.

Whatever inspires you, whether it’s a concrete jungle or a panoramic vista, don’t wait for it to come to you. Search it out. Find it. And use that inspiration to write!

NaNoWriMo

2009-11-08T10:56:00.001-05:00

So I’m a little late getting to this, but I just found out about it this week. November is the official National Novel Writing Month! 50,000 words in 30 days. 250 words per page. 6 pages per day. That’s a lot but not that bad.

Of course, I’m already behind. . . .

Normally, I spurn directives on writing. I write when I feel the drive and the passion for it—when inspiration and creativity are at their peaks. For me, if I can tap into that imagination when it’s hot, it’ll continue to inspire for a long time. I can write for hours and days feeding off the characters that are dying to tell me their story. When I try to force that creativity, it doesn’t always come across and I end up with flat, monotonous stories.

However, writing directives can be effective. The good thing about NaNoWriMo is it forces you to write. If you have a hard time dirtying that blank sheet of paper, getting those words down, having someone “tell you” to write gets you past those first scary words and into the meat of your story. After that, you’re set!

While the only person that’s gonna write your story is you, NaNoWriMo accomplishes two very important things: (1) it gets you started and (2) it gives you a deadline.

Starting your novel is tricky because (after all the how-to-write-a-bestseller books you’ve read) you want to start off strong and drive that strength throughout the rest of your story. So every idea you have, you bat around and second-guess, trying to think of greener grass. Directives like NaNoWriMo get you passed that fear and force you to just start. You can always go back and edit in that greener grass later. The deadline is equally important because novels can very quickly become an elusive nebulous void you get lost in and never find your way out of. So many ideas come and go that your 150-page novella turns into an 800-page epic novel. The November 30th deadline helps keep you and your writing focused. Writing under a deadline might stifle some creativity, but it’ll also forces creativity. And if it’s not the creativity you want—once again, that’s what editing’s for!

So this month, November 2009, don’t wait for inspiration. Force it upon yourself and start writing that novel. Now! You’re only a few days behind, and once you get going, you’ll easily catch up! Write me here and let me know how you’re doing.

The Weighty Writer

2009-10-25T19:53:00.003-04:00

It’s official—The Greatest Gainer contest has begun! Check out our blog. It doesn’t have anything to do with writing, but it’s something fun Eric and I are doing. We started a contest to see who could gain 10 pounds of muscle the fastest, each using a different workout and eating regiment. We’re not sure what the prize is going to be at the end, but at least we’ll look better! (Maybe the prize will be more dates. . . .)

So, if you’re at a loss for ideas on what to write, have a contest with a friend. Set up some parameters and see who can write the best story according to those restrictions. You can use setting, genre, time, characters, whatever you want. It can be a lot of fun writing with certain constraints. Who knows what you’ll come up with!

Rumor has it a contest is how JRR Tolkien and CS Lewis ended up writing The Lord of the Rings and The Chronicles of Narnia. Look how those books have changed the literary world!

The Passion Potion

2009-10-14T17:55:00.005-04:00

If nothing else, New Yorkers are a passionate people. You might be thinking, “Yeah, passionately unfriendly.” They’re not unfriendly, they’re just passionate—about everything. About anything. About driving and catching the train and work and school and hobbies and talents and the lack thereof. They’re passionate and their passions drive them to make it in this concrete jungle.

For example. . . . When Eric picked up biking a few months ago, he didn’t just grab a used 10-speed on Craig’s List and stroll down Riverside Park. He bought a nice road bike, clippy shoes, strobe lights, Lance Armstrong outfit, heart monitor, calorie counter, everything! I think he even rides with an IV that drips adrenaline into his blood. When Carolyn started making headbands a few weeks ago, she didn’t just slap a few together for her and her friends. No no no. She bought boatloads of ribbons and bands and glue and feathers, and spends hours making dozens of these things—which she’s already mapped out a business plan for. She says she only uses synthetic feathers, but I swear I saw her chasing the albino peacocks around St John’s trying to snag their white tails!

So how does this apply to writing? Passion drives writing. The blessing and curse of writing is it’s not an exact science. A blessing because you can get away with almost any sentence structure or bad grammar and pass it off as “creativity.” A curse because there’s no formula for good writing. In math, A + B = C. With writing, A character + B situation = Cool or Crap or Cock-eyed Craziness. Generally it’s one of the latter because there are no guarantees but there is a magic potion: passion.

To write well, draw from your passions. Here’s an exercise—think about something you love, something that gets you excited, something you can’t wait to experience, something you can hardly contain yourself over. Seriously, think about it right now.

Can you feel it? Can you feel that excitement and desire bubbling up? Now start writing. If you’re passionate about snowboarding or hedge funds, you don’t have to write about snowboarding or hedge funds. What this means is you’re drawing from your internal desires. You’re writing from a place where you hold the emotions that make life worth living. (Sometimes these emotions are heavy—like loss or loneliness—but they’re strong and important emotions.) And from those emotions, you’re creating whole new worlds. Love is a great passion to draw from—probably the passion. I know it’s not always easy. You can’t just ready-set-go fall in love. But you can recall the joys and pains of love, and use those to fuel your imagination.

I guess since there really is no magic potion you can drip into your blood intravenously to make you a better writer, passion will have to do. Become passionate about something. Anything. That passion is the potion that fuels your desire and imagination to become the best writer you can be.

Keep an Eye Out -- With Caution

2009-09-19T13:26:00.007-04:00

So, it’s a beautiful day in the City. The sun’s shining. The birds are chirping. And I have the day off. So I head to Central Park to write a little in what small bit of nature’s available. I walk up the Great Hill, throw down a blanket and sit down to start writing in my notebook.

Writing in the Park’s awesome because you’re in the shade of a tree, smelling fresh-cut grass, letting your imagination soar. The problem is it’s easy to get distracted.

As I’m sitting there, an old man walks by and lays down his blanket. He then proceeds to strip off his clothes, down to nothing but a brightly colored Speedo, which is hard to see because of all his flab. And if that’s not good enough, he then starts to bend and twist himself in the most awkward yoga positions I’ve ever seen—downward dog, the bridge, salutation to the sun. You name it, he did it.

And remember: he’s wearing a Speedo!

Only in New York. Why? Because in a 23-square-mile city filled with 8 million people, you have to deal somehow. You deal by putting yourself in your own world and not paying attention to anyone else. This has two functions: (1) you’re able to live without worrying what others think of you. (2) It makes great writing material!

Welcome to Overcoming Writer’s Block: Part II.

If you’re struggling for writing ideas, for your next story, or especially for a character quirk, just keep an eye out. Start people watching. Head to a crowded plaza, take a notepad and sense of humor, and wait for the ideas to come rolling in (or yoga-ing in).

Sometimes real life’s better than anything you can make up. By being aware of what’s going on around you, you have unlimited access to some great material. You might not see a protagonist or an epic plot, but you’ll come up with side characters, bits of conversation, off-the-wall quirks that breathe life into your story. (Imagine your protagonist having a serious conversation while his best friend’s doing yoga in the park—in a Speedo.) These side characters, these quirks add depth to your characters, and in turn to your story. Little descriptions that you write let your readers know they’re not reading a single incident set in a vacuum, but peaking into a part of these real people’s day-to-day lives. That’s how real your characters need to be. That’s what you want your readers to believe. When you write, you’re creating a world. Whether it’s flash fiction, a short story or an epic novel, you want that world to be as real as possible. What better model do you have than our own?

Just remember to keep an eye out--but with caution. You might get an eye-full of salutation to the sun!

Tourist for a Weekend

2009-08-23T22:56:00.006-04:00

I’ll admit it—I used to think I was impervious to writer’s block because writer’s block was an excuse someone without any good ideas came up with to justify his lack of productivity on his creative project, whatever that project may be. (How’s that for an opening sentence?) Well, as we all hope to do in life, I’ve matured and grown up.

Well, I’ve grown up.

Well . . . .

Anyway, I’ve learned that writer’s block is a very real thing.

Writing’s like a water fight. Sometimes you’re scraping by with a squirt gun, other times you’re manning a Super Soaker. Sometimes you’re lobbing water balloons and every now and then, you dominate the yard because you’ve got the garden hose! But writer’s block is that sneaky neighbor kid who kinks the hose and pretty much (in our analogy) cuts off your creative flow. Then you’re just kid with a limp hose.

So when writer’s block hits and you’re struggling for ideas, for characters, for a line even, here’s a surefire way to get out of it. Write something else.

A couple weeks ago, I spent a weekend in DC with Mason. It was cool to see him again. After he left, I spent the afternoon touring downtown DC till my bus took me back to the city. And I loved it! It was so much fun getting out of New York for a weekend, being a tourist, checking out a different scene, seeing new people and places—the Capitol, the monuments, the White House. It (1) was just fun being somewhere different and (2) made me appreciate the “character” of New York more.

So it goes with writing something else. When you feel stuck about plot, flow, character, whatever, try writing something different for a while. Write a different story. Even a short story. It doesn’t have to be elaborate. Just something small. But get into. Explore the characters and conflict. Then go back to your original story and see if things flow better—if that plot/character/conflict comes out on the page any better. Taking this break from the intense focus on your story frees up your head and lets the creative juices flow. It’s tough because, if you’re stubborn like me, you want to push through the block and get that scene down, that dialogue written, because once you do the flow will come—you know it! But if you tour some other world you’ve created, you allow yourself the freedom to relax and your mind to open to new possibilities you couldn’t see before. Just like learning to appreciate New York’s “character” once I was away and in DC.

But be careful. When you get over your writer’s block, it’s like looking in the mouth of the hose when the sneaky neighbor kid lets go of the kink. Be ready to write!

Sleep Deprivation

2009-08-11T23:31:00.007-04:00

I’m a morning person. There’s nothing quite like getting up and taking an early-morning walk in the park. The sun’s still rising. The air’s cool. The city’s quiet and the sidewalk’s empty. It’s just a great way to start the day. Of course, it’s only great if I’ve had my standard eight-hour night.

At least, that’s how it used to be.

Since living in New York, I’ve totally become sleep deprived. Pretty close to zombie status on occasion. Rarely do I crash before midnight, and I’m still up at six. What’s worse is I’ve gotten used to being sleep deprived. I’m cool making it through the day on a few hours’ rest. And on that blue moon when I get to sleep in, my body won’t make it past seven. (What a sad, sad thing when “sleeping in” is 7:00.)

But there’s just so much fun stuff to do and see and experience in the city. I’d rather do and see and experience than sleep. I can rest when I’m dead, right? And that’s the plug for writing this week.

Writing’s a commitment. No matter what you’re writing (fiction, poetry, non-fiction), it takes time, energy, focus, and did I mention time? You’ve got to write, edit, rewrite, revise and write more. Some of you out there might be authorial Mozarts—composing stories pretty much perfectly the first time around. But for the rest of us, rewriting, rewriting and rewriting is akin to eating and breathing. To create that world, write that story, capture that character in the exact and flawless way you picture it in your head, it takes a lot of devotion and sacrifice, for lack of a better word. Wait . . . deprivation’s a good word.

It’s the same with any craft you’re trying to hone. But we’re talking about writing.

If you’re aspiring to be a good writer, you’re going to have to deprive yourself of certain things. Not everything—don’t worry. You don’t have to lock yourself in a room and become a hermity recluse (even though some authors have done that—Jonathan Franzen when he wrote The Corrections). You can still have a social life. You can still eat Mr Frosty’s. You can still go out on the weekends. But every now and then, and sometimes more than other times, you’re going to have to stay home, hunker down over your notebook, and plug away until you finish that scene, capture that character, get over that writer’s block.

I’ve deprived myself of sleep to enjoy the excitement of New York. You’ll deprive yourself of certain things to enjoy the pleasure of writing. But (and here’s the warning) don’t deprive yourself into solitary confinement. Writing is fun, and so is life—which, the more you live it, the more story ideas it’ll give you (see my Tourist for a Day post).

Craft-Conscious

2009-07-28T23:20:00.008-04:00

During summertime-summertime, Good Morning America puts on free concerts in the park. The bands perform for the show, and afterward for the crowd. Great way to start the weekend!

So Tamara got me, Jane, Alina and James VIP passes to see Third Eye Blind—no line, right next to the stage, camera in our faces, girls screaming in our ears, the whole deal! It was really cool. I had total flashbacks to high school. But because 3IB played for the show first and us second, they had to play a couple songs in certain time limits to match commercial breaks. Songs that lasted too long, they cut short. And vice versa with the shorter songs. I watched as the GMA producer told them, “Make this song 3:38,” then as they talked about it, threw in a solo, added a few bars here and there, and finally played the modified song—perfectly! You couldn’t tell they made any changes at all.

Now, maybe I’m reading way too much into a 3IB concert, but I was way impressed that they knew their craft so well, so fully, that they could change their art to the demands of the show—and pull it off! Like second nature. They knew what to add, what to cut, and still make it sound good.

You’ll probably have to do this with your writing, too.

It’s vital to know your craft. And know it well. That doesn’t mean just knowing how to put a sentence together, even though that’s kind of key. Know your stories. Know your characters. Keep your head full of random facts. If your head won’t hold it all, keep a card file. Remember that jerk that ran your underwear up the flagpole in junior high? Don’t block that out. That’s good story material.

Stephen King calls it a toolbox. Everything you know about writing (and everything you know) is a tool. So when you sit down and write, do you have the tools you need? Vocab, grammar, yeah, yeah. There’s also character development, conflict (internal and external), plot twists, inferring, irony. Without such tools in your box, you might as well write . . . a blog. When you go to fix a chair, you don’t know if you need a flathead or a Philips. But you bring both just in case. Similarly, when you write, you might not know what voice/characters/experiences you’ll draw from, but you bring it all to the table just in case. One day your editor might tell you to cut 50 pages from your 500-page masterpiece—by tomorrow’s deadline. What do you cut without losing the richness of the world you’ve created? That’s why you’ve got to know your craft. That’s why you’ve got to have your tools on the ready. Cut, alter, change, shorten, but keep the seamless flow so when your audience reads your story, they’ll never know you made any changes at all.

PS—We got on TV. Twice!

Tourist for a Day

2009-07-12T10:20:00.008-04:00

Sometimes I get a little full of myself about living in the city. It’s fun walking through Times Square, surrounded by the gawking tourists, acting like I’m not enthralled by the lights and dazzle. I mean, I live where they vacation. I’m too cool for it, right? (Indifference = cool.) But every now and then, it’s also really, really fun to put on your tourist’s hat and go see the few little sites New York has to offer.

Not too long ago, some friends and I put on those hats and took a bus tour of the city—one of the open-roof busses that drives you around Manhattan. Really cool! We saw all the neighborhoods around the island. I’d been to most of them before—Chelsea, SoHo, Hell’s Kitchen—but never one right after the other. It really put into perspective just how individual each neighborhood is. The Financial District, of course, has its skyscrapers. Bohemian-style shops and cafes line the Village streets. And the Upper West Side is home to your family-friendly Sesame Street brownstones.

Once I got out of the routine of my area, I noticed these neighborhoods each had their own past. Each had its own characteristics. Each had its own personality. Each had its own story—which (surprise surprise) is what I want to talk about.

What past, what characteristics, what personalities do your stories have?

Sometimes—often—I get so involved in my character’s life that I lose perspective of the world I’ve created around him. When you write, you really do create a world. And sometimes you focus so much on your character/plot/conflict, you forget what’s going on outside your focus. If you think the external world’s not a big deal because your story’s about the internal struggle of man overcoming his fallacies through the power of redemption, or whatever, remember his struggle for redemption is happening in and being influenced by the world you’ve created for him. Losing track of that world makes your character/plot/conflict become flat/uninteresting/dull.

So take some time out and tour your world.

You don’t have to map out the city, the island, the space station—wherever your story takes place. You don’t need to know street names. But your characters do live in a place. Get to know it. Get a feel for it. Take a day and stroll through your setting. Talk with your characters. Find out what’s going on in their lives. How? That’s what imagination’s for. That’s the fun of writing! Soon your characters will have a past, your plot will have substance, your conflict will have depth. Everything becomes round, and round is good (unless you’re trying to lose weight). There’s nothing wrong with take a day to sit back and imagine. Be careful, though. The more you imagine, the more you have to keep track of. But don’t worry, it’s not that bad. It’s fun! By taking a tour of your writing, you won’t be writing about a bubble, you’ll be writing about a world. A world you created!

Timing the Chaos

2009-07-01T09:05:00.006-04:00

The other day, Carolyn and I saw Swan Lake. Not a very manly ballet (if there is such a thing) but it had an evil wizard—that’s got to count for something, right? Afterward, we stood outside the Metropolitan Opera with Devon (who danced in the ballet) and I couldn't help but take in the moment—everyone was smiling, well-dressed, laughing and enjoying the night. Usually, in the middle of the city, amid the hustle and bustle and honking cars and screeching trains, it's tough to find a moment’s peace. But in that moment, with friends, surrounded by happy people, I felt peace. I felt relaxed. I felt one of those rare moments when I love New York City.

At the risk of getting mushy, that feeling came at just the right time to remind me why I face the raging taxis and slammed trains and long lines and rushing crowds day in and day out—there's nothing else quite like those “moments” of living in the city.

You get those “moments” in writing, too.

I just finished reading The Road, by Cormac McCarthy. Great book, typical McCarthy. In the story, Father and Son travel through post-apocalyptic America. Time and again, their situation goes from bad to worse. Just when you think you can’t trudge with them through any more chaos, McCarthy gives you a glint of hope. (Spoiler alert!) They find a bomb shelter filled with supplies. Just as the characters are relieved to tears, so are you (almost). That glint of hope is enough to relieve your distress and carry you on through the rest of the McCarthyesque desolation to follow.

Why? Because it came at just the right moment. McCarthy timed his chaos perfectly!

Your writing needs that, too. Whatever your genre, your style, you need to time your chaos. Go ahead—drag your reader through the mud. Crash his car. Burn his house down. But just before you kill him (i.e. he puts your book down) give him a glint of hope. Make him a tent. Find him a bike. Hand him a moist towelette. Then throw him back in the lion’s den. But he needs that glint. He needs to know everything can be okay, even if it won’t be. Time the hope amid the chaos.

Are you thinking, “Russell, that’s not real life!”? Yes it is. Life’s not all bad. Life has its moments. To write true to life, write chaos—but give the reader some hope.

The tricky part is when to write in that hope. If it comes early, you lose suspense. If it comes late, you lose readers. I don’t have a magic formula (if I did, I’d be on the best seller list), so you got to go with your gut. Your gut and your revisions. But time your chaos. Listen to your characters. Know when they’re getting too desperate. Chaos is good. Conflict is a must. Drama is . . . dramatic. But a little hope goes a long way. When your chaos is timed right, just like standing outside the very manly ballet, you will have that moment when you love living in the world you created.