Advice for Writing, Editing, Reading, and Life.
New posts on Mondays (for non-fiction) or Fridays (for fiction)
Us Versus Us: 2023 Year-End Review
It’s that time again. I want to talk about what I’ve read, what I’ve done, and what I’ve learned in the Year of Our Lord two-thousand twenty three. That’s enough of an intro, right?
The Song of the Stars, Part 3
Gleaming silver spheres lined the shore. For a season they sat. Unmoving. Mysterious. Terrifying and beautiful.
2023 Novel November Editing Giveaway
Every year, come October, I tell myself I should participate in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). And most years, come the day after Halloween, I’ve decided I can’t handle that much extra work in my life right now.
This year, because I knew I wouldn’t be writing, I decided to do something for writers.
The Song of the Stars, Part 2
The landlord spewed his drink. “Buy the land?” Incredulity dripped from his words like the wine from his beard. He examined the writ of commerce. “You’ve made just one mistake; This scrap o’ parchment only says you can buy land.”
The Song of the Stars, Part 1
As a girl, Alessi would gaze at the night sky. Without a formal education, she did not know the names of the stars, but that didn’t stop her from dreaming of them. She imagined that they were singing to her, a whispered song of what they wished to be called. The stars filled her with purpose and guidance. She couldn’t have explained why or how, but she knew that her life had been laced with destiny.
Obadiah’s Third Part
Obadiah took a deep breath and entered from stage left. The white-hot lime blinded him, but his courage did not falter.
The Patron Saint
Pitmaster James awoke hanging from his feet in a tiny room. The smell made James retch. Everything was shrouded in gloom. A puddle of something wet reflected the sickly flame of a lone candle. James’ heartbeat punctuated the dull ache in his head with spikes of agony.
Give Me Your Answer True
Daisy clambered through a broken window. She left tracks in the thick dust as she explored. Debris littered the floor. At the end of a wide corridor, splattered on double doors, a question: ARE YOU REAL?
I, the Undersigned, Do Hereby Release Orion Prime Enterprises from All Liability
Krastin, wearing a huge, plastered-on grin, waved to the raffle winners. Should he look grim and mournful? He still wasn’t sure. Would you rather see a smiling face greeting you warmly? Or would you want a clue, a facial tick, a twitch of silent body language as a warning?
You’ve Gotta Be Knitting Me
Marge put nimble spiders to shame. She had never dropped a stitch, despite all her years knitting. Even with these clumsy, thick fingers, she coaxed yarn into textiles as a maestro coaxes soundwaves into symphonies.
L’Ultima Prima Donna
“How old are you?” she asked.
“Old enough,” the apothecary replied as he busied himself snatching up small bottles, mixing their contents into his mortar, grinding with his pestle.
Stenchwing
Sulfurous fumes wafted from Stenchwing. He knew that voice. “Oh, Sapientia… Hi.”
“Gaudi, how are you?! It’s been what? Four millen—”
“Five actually. Yeah. It’s uh, Stenchwing now.”
The Last Great Adventure (pt. 7)
After checking inside a few of the now opened buildings, Teddy and Wes came away disappointed. Each room of each chamber was empty. No furnishings or artwork, no evidence that the rooms had ever been used, had even been designed for a use.
Twitter Blues
A very brief flash fiction piece written in response to a prompt by Laura Cooney (@LozzaWriting).
Adeptly Avoiding Adverbs (And Allowing Them Adroitly)
Many famous writers, from Mark Twain to Stephen King, have suggested that the only good adverb is one left out of your draft. As with lots of advice offered glibly, this comes from a good place, but it has to be understood in context of why adverbs cause problems. A poorly constructed sentence without adverbs is still poorly constructed.
Anatomy of Storytelling: Do Stories Require Language?
Imagine that meaning is water. To know how much water you have, you need a system of measurement. To move the water from place to place, you need a bucket. Until you put your story into a language, it cannot be carried by someone else.
A Haiku, an Apology, and a Promise
This week has been a busy one for me, which means part three of “Anatomy of Storytelling” isn’t ready yet. But I have started it… mostly… kind of… look the outline is done in my head, OK? It’s a good one, and it requires more research that I haven’t finished yet. I’ll be answering the question: “Do stories require language?”
Anatomy of Storytelling: How Do You Tell a Story?
Anyone can tell a story. All of us do it daily. But not everyone can tell a story that will stick with the audience for years to come. If storytelling is the primary purpose of language (which, I’d argue it is), and language is the primary characteristic that separates us from animals (which, I’d argue it is) …
Isn’t it worthwhile to be good at it?
Anatomy of Storytelling: What Is a Story?
What even is a story? Lots of ideas came to mind. Perhaps a story is a series of events relayed by one person (or group) to another person (or group)? Or, perhaps a story is the communication of thoughts and feelings?
Ultimately I settled on this: a story is the base unit of meaning. To help me explain, I need to take a tangent into science.
When Good Is Enough: 2022 Year-End Review
The wistful desire to think through the year and the lessons learned and the growing pains afflicts me as well. The nostalgic sense of wonder and reflection—they are not foreign to me. Thus, since I cannot change the calendar, I will submit to its declaration that today is the last day of the year.