Danielmedley.com

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Catching Up and 1018 Press

I’ve brought out some older projects and started revising them with a fresh set of eyes so to speak. One thing that I’ve been having trouble with is the location of markets appropriate for much of the material I have. This is my fault because I have not spent the time needed in searching the markets out.

On an unrelated note, I’m beginning to realize that the online writing community is amazingly robust and, for the most part, quite open and friendly. The one thing that I have heard (and I’m beginning to see it for myself) is that online forums can be problematic. I think that is the case with most online forums no matter what their subject matter is. One thing that is intolerable, though, is when those that run/moderate the forums resort to intellectually dishonest, ego-driven tactics. This is precisely why I’ve withdrawn my participation in the forum over at 1018 Press. I’ve received a number of e-mails from forum participants expressing their dismay at the editor’s behavior which leads me to wonder if the editor is aware of the beating his integrity is taking because of his own actions. Either way, I wish 1018 Press the best.

Friday, January 05, 2007

Here Is What Happened

I sent in a piece to an editor. He stated that he wouldn’t be able to read anything for the upcoming zine for several weeks. That’s ok. On an online forum, a discussion was taking place in which said editor made a goofy statement. I corrected him because, after all, I am the type that I just can’t let nonsense go unabated. It was akin to stating that 2+2=6 and being corrected. Keep in mind that I wasn’t rude about it. In fact, I was downright civil. He replied with a snide, childish remark fueled by ego rather than common sense, and within three minutes, yes three minutes I got an e-mail rejection for the piece I had sent in.

Coincidence? Perhaps. In fact, I’m going to go on the record with it was coincidence.

But, if I had a crystal ball that told me that had I not replied on the forum my story would be accepted, I’d still do it all exactly the same.

Therein is the beauty of doing this simply because you love it.

Genre Identity Crisis

It’s been some time since I last posted here. You know, the Holidays and such. Although I’ve not posted here, I have still been writing my guts out. I finished two short stories and I’ve also been opening up some old screenplays as well.

Looking over some of the stories I have been working on, I have attempted to find some kind of pattern concerning genre. I simply cannot find it. I’m jumping all over the place. One story is a western (try finding a market for that), one is a contemporary—for lack of a better word—literary piece, and another idea I have been kicking around is a small murder-mystery.

As far as screenplays are concerned, I have a post apocalyptic/plague (plawg for some of us) story, a 1920’s era western, and a contemporary small town drama.

The only consistent factor in all of these stories is that they all contain strong women. For some reason, strong women always find themselves in my stories, even if they are not the main protagonist. I suppose I would have to dig somewhere deep into my personal psyche to figure that one out. I’d rather not.

I started writing this one piece as a sort of screenwriting exercise in pacing and character development and I found myself really getting to like this character. She’s a gun-toting, scrappy, loan survivor in a world decimated by a plague—plawg? (inside joke) that has wiped out most of humanity. Hardly an original idea, but she’s just a cool character. I’m going to dabble with it and see if I can come up with a decent story.

I guess the gist of this is that I apparently have a genre identity crisis going on.

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

Handy Tools From Unexpected Places

For most writers, coming up with character names is always a challenge. If not a challenge, then a minor pain in the ass. Sure, one can always go to The Random Name Generator (link via this guy), but my favorite method is to open up an account at a free online web-mail service and then use that e-mail address to fill out every online form you come across. Use it in ways that you would never use your home-based account. After a few weeks copious amounts of spam will start rolling in and along with it, a goldmine of ideas for character names.

I know, you may think I’m joking, but I’m serious. Hell, just today I’ve received e-mails from:

Concetta Shook (sounds like a 60’s era Bond Girl)

Anastasia Roland

Rene Parsons

Niclolas Riddle

Sylvia Buckley

Ruby Segura

This is just from today. Really, for an almost endless supply of good name ideas to fit almost any story, open up that spam-mail account. Also, you can look at it this way: you’re actually using them for something you want.

Oh, wait. Lucinda Phelps just sent me some crap I won’t read, but I sure like that name. It’s going in my notebook. 

Sunday, November 12, 2006

I’d Like A Can Of Peas, Please

Justin, I’m telling you, it’s a great idea.

The Trailer Man, coming to a theater near you.

God, this just cracks me up.

. . .and a nation will cheer. 

Monday, November 06, 2006

Literary Vs Genre

I’ve often wondered what exactly separates so called genre fiction from so called literary fiction. Sure, you can read a novel and know that is decidedly one or the other, but just what is it exactly that separates the two? To use a cliché, I suppose it comes down to, I know it when I see it, but I can’t explain it.

Granted, the question that this essay asks is: Why are so many novelists in the modern age drawn to write about the ancient world, especially Rome but also, to a lesser extent, Greece?, but the following piqued my attention:

“Robert Harris may be one of Britain’s most popular novelists, but he remains a victim of literary snobbery, or so he thinks. Interviewed recently in the Observer, he complained that the kind of novels shortlisted for the Booker prize were as much works of genre as any other. Harris is considered to be a genre writer: a writer of the airport thriller and historical saga. As such he is never in contention for the main prizes, and his latest novel, Imperium, was predictably not among the 19 titles on this year’s Man Booker longlist.”

Of course, Harris’s publishers may not have entered it for the prize. But if they did, the novel had two things against it. First, the proof copy came with the boast that it had a publicity budget of £400,000, information guaranteed to offend high-minded judges. Second, it is indeed genre fiction ...

I tend to agree with Robert Harris to some degree, and I’ve often wondered why there exists this elitism, or “snobbery” if you will. I wonder if this phenomenon is—at least partly and perhaps inadvertently—perpetuated by the publishing industry. I’ve read accounts of Editors going to bat, kicking and screaming, to get a particular book published knowing that it will not make money and that it will be an economical bust, but because they feel the work is of such merit, they feel that it needs to be put out there. Doesn’t this attitude, in part, doom a book from the start? After such a book is in print and it’s “out there” do the publishers give it weak promotion, saving the big money for the Clancys and Grishams?

Personally, I read a broad spectrum of genres and styles. I’m as likely to pick up a Faulkner as I am a King. I can be as engrossed in one as much as the other as long as I’m reading a good story.

But, I suppose that most consumers are not like that. Or, perhaps they are, and book publishers are beginning to behave much the same Hollywood. I believe that Hollywood is vastly underestimating the average film viewer. But, that’s a whole other discussion.

I know that in my own work it would be difficult to pin down a specific genre. Sure, on the surface, much of what I write could be pigeon-holed, but I think that deeper down, it’s more broad than that. Perhaps that’s wishful thinking on my part.

Sunday, November 05, 2006

What’s Going On And The Dreaded Run-On Sentence

It’s been some time since I last posted. I’ve been busy with various things, including doing some writing of course. As stated a couple of posts down, I finished a fourth draft of The Breaks and decided to sit on it for awhile after giving to some readers for feedback. Well, that didn’t last long. I did give it to a couple of readers, and in the mean time I did some line editing on my own. I’m now on what could be easily considered a sixth draft.

Also, I got some very helpful feedback concerning Little Whiskey from someone. That is proving very useful.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about run-on sentences. I have an admittedly nasty habit of spewing out run-on sentences—especially in first or second drafts. I know people who absolutely hate run-on sentences, and I have no problem with them pointing them out to me. That said, I must admit that some of my favorite writers are heavy users of run-on sentences and, like most writers, I’m heavily influenced by writers I admire. The previous sentence is a perfect example of a run-on sentence by the way.

Personally, I don’t have a problem with well done run-on sentences; even heavy use of them. Take Ernest Hemingway for example. That guy could put down a run-sentence with the best of them. The thing that was interesting about Hemingway was that he’d put down a run-on sentence that was bordering on excessive, and then follow it up with a series of short, almost staccato-like, sentences.

Cormac McCarthy, one of the most stunning writers of our time, goes absolutely insane with run-ons. Of course, he’s Cormac McCarthy and can do any damn thing he wants. Read All The Pretty Horses, or No Country For Old Men, and you’ll see what I mean.

Another writer who comes to mind in this regard is Jim Harrison. One of his books—I believe it’s Wolf—starts out with a sentence that goes on for almost two pages.

I suppose the key concerning run-ons is doing it well. I’m not a good enough writer to do them well, but I still find myself drawn to them in certain situations. I think that some stories simply lend themselves to a particular style that includes the use of run-on sentences.

Or something like that.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Good News For Chris Holm

I’ve never met him, but I do visit his site and you just can’t help but be excited for him with regards to this:

Yesterday, I received word that my short story The World Behind has been accepted for publication by Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and work on my happy dance, whilst simultaneously trying not to throw up.

Man, congratulations. 

Monday, October 16, 2006

First Person Past Tense

Some time ago I finished a piece that was written in first person past tense. I’ve always disliked first person past, but did it anyway as a sort of experiment. After completing four drafts I was reasonably happy with it. Now, some months later, I dug it out and started going over it again and I instantly came to the conclusion that the first person angle is definitely not working. In fact I’m going over it and thinking, Ugh.

I’m still happy with the story and the general structure, but it comes across as a somewhat biographical, confessional piece which, to me, is just horrid. Sure, it uses some elements that I’m familiar with and takes place in a local that I’m intimately familiar with, but the characters and events are all fictional. Well, that’s not entirely true. There is one part that relies heavily on an actual event, but I don’t have a problem with that. The point is that—except for the aforementioned event—it’s just a pack of lies, not a biographical confessional.

So, I’m going to dismantle the whole damn thing and do it in third person.

Also, this will be a great opportunity to—as alluded to in the previous post—kill a few darlings and tighten the whole thing up.

Wildhorse (The Breaks)

I just finished a fourth draft of The Breaks and it’s about as much as I can do with it until I sit on it for awhile. At this point I’m going to have to let someone else read it and give me input from a vantage point that’s not as close as I am after working on it for so long.

Right now the story comes in at 9,620 words which is far less than the 12,000 plus in the first draft. It’s still not the 7,000 or 8,000 I had hoped for. I know the adage, “kill your darlings,” but after creating a veritable killing field I’m ready to call a truce—for now.

Friday, October 13, 2006

Working On The Progress

I’ve not posted much lately; my bad. Actually, it’s not my bad. I’ve basically been trying to fit ten pounds of rice in a sack meant to hold five. Something’s got to give.

One thing I’ve been doing is accumulating more links which I will add to my list shortly.

My free time is limited to the point of absurdity. I’m not complaining mind you, just thinking out loud so to speak.

The only time I’ve been able to make for writing for the last several weeks has been between the time I come home from work and when I go to bed. I come home from work anywhere between 2:00 am and 4:00 am. During my lunch hour at work I’ve been writing outlines and first drafts in a notebook. I mull them over and then try to get in a couple of hours after work.

That leaves me with, perhaps, 4 hours sleep thanks to my mother in law who is kind enough to watch my son until I wake up. The rest of my day is then dedicated to him as much as possible. Like most people I do have a couple of days off. One of those days coincides with one of my wife’s days off. That day, of course, is spent together as a family. That one day of the week re-charges the batteries for the upcoming week.

Oh, my wife and I do spend some time together during the week. There is about a half-hour between the time she comes home and I leave and—during my 40 minute drive to work—we usually spend a few minutes on the phone while I drive.

Now, like I said, this is not meant to come across as a huge screed of complaining, really. It’s just the reality of my life at the current moment and, to be honest, I’m very happy with my life. The point is that, as busy as I am; as devastatingly tired as I sometimes am, I still manage to finagle time in to be productive in matters of both writing and family.

Saturday, October 07, 2006

Still Plugging Away

I’ve been so busy as of late with life that it has been difficult to post. Busy or not, I’ve still managed to make time for writing. As noted earlier, I finished a first draft of Little Whiskey and the Dancing Cave and slipped it off to a respected individual for input and advice. Actually, he’s a good friend but I trust him implicitly in such matters.

While giving myself some needed distance from Little Whiskey and the Dancing Cave, I’ve been working on a second draft of a story called The Breaks. The story is currently at 9,964 words, but I’d really like to get it down to the 7,000 or 8,000 range.

Tom took a pull from his brandy and thought of Frank. Frank hated him, he knew, and he also knew it was to be expected. How do you explain that when it comes to certain things, there can be no limits to what lengths one will go for the sake of the larger picture? There can simply be no weakness in such matters. To be weak to any degree meant certain death in a world with no tolerance for ambiguity of will. Tom didn’t expect many to reciprocate this ideology, as was the case with Frank and Will’s mother, who had simply collapsed beneath it after just five years of marriage. He recounted the many times when she would take to long bouts of depression punctuated by venting rage. Often times she had complained to Tom of the “incomprehensible sacrifice” that he expected all to endure for the sake of the Trinity. Over the years she learned to control the rage. She folded it up tight and put it in a dark little place somewhere in her withered heart. She kept it contained and endured the sacrifice. One morning, Tom awoke to find her hanging from the rafters in their bedroom. She dangled from a rope, naked, eyes bulging, purple lips and pale skin. She apparently thought enough about it to make sure she would be facing him when he woke up. He lay in bed for several minutes looking at her and allowed ambivalence to transform into loathing. In a rage, he threw the covers back, leapt from the bed, and grabbed the knife that was in a sheath on a belt hanging from a rack next to his pants. He stood up on the bed, cut the rope, and let her body brutally fall to the floor. His biggest concern at that point was raising two young boys left motherless by a blithering coward.

If a genre must be indicated, I suppose I’d call it a Western, but I don’t really think that the description is altogether appropriate. True, it takes place in the late 1800’s and includes a ranch called the “Trinity”, but what I’ve been trying to do with it is take well established convention and tweak it. It’s interesting to me to take borderline—or outright—cliché and then give it a twist.

Friday, September 29, 2006

Guerilla Poetics Project

Sometime ago, while sitting and sharing a wee dram of Scotch, Justin told me about an idea that he and some fellow poets had come up with. They call the idea the Guerilla Poetics Project and what a great idea it is. Their mission statement of returning poetry to the people by subversively putting it into their hands is executed in such an ingenious way that I strongly advise you (writers of all types and genres) to check it out. I’m making the heady prediction that this will be a grand success.

I will be making a permanent spot in my links shortly.

Monday, September 18, 2006

Dating My Wife

This weekend my wife and I went on our third date. We’ve known each other for six-plus years and have been married for five and this was date number three. Pathetic, huh?

By date I’m talking about where just the two of us go out together, no child, no friends, just the two of us enjoying each other’s company. In this case we took in the symphony and listened to a performance of Richard Strauss’ Don Juan and Burleske which was followed by Beethoven’s Symphony No. 3.

We had such a good time that we’ve decided to procure the services (babysitting the son) of my wife’s mother a few more times while she’s here and do it again. In fact I’m not against having the mother-in-law change her visit from a couple of months to as long as she wants. This dating thing is kind of fun.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

Making Progress

I just finished a first draft of Little Whiskey and the Dancing Cave. Originally, I had it in mind to title it, Little Whiskey and the Cave of Life. Still not sure what the title will ultimately be.

About a week ago I had this idea pop into my head that I couldn’t begin to formulate. At least not verbally or in an outline form. In fact it didn’t take shape until after I started putting the words down. I still can’t explain it, but now that the first draft is down it does, amazingly, make sense.

The drums sounded faintly with an ancient, tribal rhythm, and a chorus of what sounded like thousands chanted distant accompaniment. Errol opened his eyes and saw shadows flitting across the light of the moon that filtered into the cave. He sat up and looked at the glyphs and they began to shift, move, and dance. Oh, how they danced.

It’s a short piece—for me—at only about 1500 words.

Each time I write something I seem to learn something and come up with new questions. I wonder how common it is to have a complete notion of a story in mind yet not be able to verbally formulate it or explain what it is about even after you write it. Although I can’t explain it, it does make since when I read it.