Let me please preface this by saying that my friend Summer has a job that I am exceptionally enviable of – she works at the Hayden Planetarium in the American Museum of Natural History. That very museum has released a video using 4D mapping technology to impart just how little we are when compared to the grandeur of the entire universe.
Don’t be thrown off by that explanation, 4D mapping is just a method used to equate space and time as measured by light. I can’t crunch the math on it, which is why Summer is safe from me taking her job, but the theory basically states that time and space are the same thing.
The video itself is stunning, and can easily impart a sense of interstellar loneliness on the observer. And it made me instantly flash back to a video that probably had a far greater impact on my childhood than anyone at Warner Brothers Animation intended. Of course, I speak of Yakko Warner’s Universe Song
That song does a fairly good job of driving home an existential crisis, doesn’t it? To think, this show was aimed at grade schoolers.
For those who prefer to feel insignificant with a more upbeat tempo, and loads more British thrown in to boot, there’s always Monty Python’s Universe song from the classic film “The Meaning of Life.”
And I suppose I should say something uplifting now like, even though you got a parking ticket today, you can take heart in knowing that at that very moment, a star, somewhere in the far off reaches of space, was born. But really, that’s not my style. Instead, I’m going to be logging of the Internet in a bit to get back to work on my book.
My current goal is to complete the first draft of Project Kingdom by February 14th. Valentine’s Day. How many stars will be born between now and then?
I am a fairly large proponent of the Andalusian concept of duende – the secret longing that seems to plague so many artists. The sense of hurt that exists below the skin, a malleable emotion which can be pushed and gently prodded to evoke the entire human gamut and allow audiences to tap into the sense of pure, albeit broken, humanity that ties us all together.
It was during a spoken word lecture by Nick Cave to the Poetry Academy in Vienna (full lecture in text – opening in audio) when I was exposed to the concept of duende and within the back of my drunken mind, my quest suddenly had a name. For years I had scoured art in myriad mediums, looking for scraps of what I suddenly knew as duende. That universal longing that seems to tie humanity together.
Even before placing a name to the concept, I knew my motivation – a working theory that if I surrounded myself with works imbued with what I wanted to portray, I could one day convey that type of experience.
Over the years, my album collection swelled. As did my library. And my film collection. Not to mention the sheer volumes of words I’d written. The bottles I’d emptied. The loves I’d lost. The cigarettes I’d reduced to butts and stubbed out. And from that mottled collection, I started to notice a trend.
A trend I’ve come to know as Maria.
Behind every piece of great art, behind everything that exemplified duende, there was typically a broken heart. Not the realistic end of a relationship, in which the good gave way to the gray, and the gray gave way to the pain. Not the kind of relationship which petered out. No, the holes created by Maria are different. These are the relationships which ambush the soul, which are not foreshadowed and which never grow to true fruition. They are comfort and connection and need which is too frequently snuffed out.
They are short, with passion that can only be described as explosive, if one is to dwell in metaphor.
You see, it isn’t possessing Maria which creates duende, it’s the brushing, the perception, the glimpse of what could be, of potential that marks Maria. Maria is the driving force from Linklater’s “Before Sunrise.” Maria is the focal point of numerous songs from the greater parts of Bob Dylan’s early catalog and the haunting he recalls for his later works.
Maria is the ghost which haunts the artist’s soul.
Josh Ritter altered Maria’s name, choosing the American “Marie” for his criminally overlooked “The Temptation of Adam.” (video) To attain Marie, to be with his Maria, Ritter was willing to risk nuclear war and the destruction of all of humanity if it meant a continued relationship. Melodramatic, to be certain. But understandable? I think so.
A careful look at Ritter’s lyrics shows the truth of Maria. Though the happy ending is occasionally fostered in works inspired by Maria, reality is never so kind. The truest concept of Maria isn’t the having. It is the potential. Maria is a relationship marked by loss. Ritter’s Adam didn’t cause the war, and was forced to live with the memories of nights spent making love and days spent “ransacking the rations.” He lost Maria, and it was the loss which, on second thought, would have had him launching the missiles.
Dylan never got his Maria, either.
No one ever does. That’s what makes Maria unique, she is able to exist wholly in the mind – free of flaws, of reality, of humanity. In that way, Maria becomes a God, a concept which can’t be touched, which can only be embraced by logic-defying faith. Maria becomes a vision.
And through that holiness, Maria becomes a ghost. Exalted, yet haunting in the same breath.
Yes, hearts broken for Maria do not stand a chance. How can they? The piercing of a fictional blade knows no remedies. Time might dull the pain, but it never removes it. That longing, that duende, is always there. Days can pile up and obscure it, but one awkward glance, one glimmer in a crowded place, one wayward phrase or familiar scent is enough to rip that wound back open.
The mind is a terrible lover.
So, artists who’ve encountered Maria do what we do – we create.
Sometimes the art is a direct attempt at healing, founded in the belief that working out the relationship with Maria, with exposing the fiction to reality, of “showing the warts” might somehow lessen the pain. Others, the truer attempts to capture the vision of Maria, are appeals lodged in the misguided belief that “If my art is true and honest and powerful, she will come back.” Neither work, but both offer some important truths.
The first truth in either motive for creation is that Maria will not return. And the artist will not feel better. Yes, the chances are the art will be recognized for what it is – a love letter to Maria (whomever he or she may be) – but in the end the artist will only have spent a considerable amount of time focused on what ideally should be forgotten.
The second truth is that others will find that art, because they too have visions of Maria. Those of us who spend our days and nights in constant searches, in quests to remember our own visions running in parallel to quests to forget them, we all form a sense of global community. A loosely organized federation of hearts addicted to seraphim, of soporic romances. Of that glimpse that could never survive reality.
But in the end, in both the first and second truths, the reality is that Maria will never be again. The joy is in having been exposed to the fiction, the purity, and having that come through the ether. The experience might have meant a constant longing, but in the end, it was something real. It was something. And today, who can argue with that?
Things have been quiet around here lately, but not for lack of trying. Frankly, for someone who hasn’t earned an honest paycheck since June, I’ve been remarkably busy. First, I’ve been doing a good bit of freelancing work, so much so that I had to take a good joke and try and turn it into an honest business. If you remember The Pandemic Group – the fake new media marketing company I started when the Swine Flu first became big news – you might be shocked (shocked!*) to see that the fake website has since been replaced with a brochure landing page.
Yes, that does mean I am starting my own company. And I already have some really cool clients. Instead of operating a strict SEO company, I’m leveraging what I call “conversational marketing” – that is combining smart SEO practices with helping companies take advantage of social media to find current and new customers and turn them into friends.
And speaking of social media, I presented on that very topic – of honing in your passion and finding others who share it – at this month’s Social Media Club here in Richmond. I had a blast and will post the videos of said presentation when they become available. I use the plural because not only was my presentation recorded, but I was also interviewed by Jolie O’Dell who came up what I believe she called “Robb’s Theorem on Furries in Niche Marketing.”
The basic premise of that theory is that furries, people dressed up like animals pretending to be people, is perhaps as far removed from normal life as any particular niche or vertical can be. And yet, when you take that passion and expand it onto a global scale, furries measure in the millions. If such a finite passion can measure in that quantity, other niches can reasonably duplicate that kind of community.
The video interview wasn’t the only bit of press that night. Grid Magazine was in attendance and snagged not only the photo of my above, but also a fairly good recap of the night in general. I do believe that this article officially marks the first time I’ve been on the other side of a printed byline. Yes, I’ve been on the local NBC affiliate a few times, but there is a special place in my heart for printed journalism.
And finally, in fiction writing news, I am now a full chapter into the second act of Project Kingdom. In the traditional Three Act Structure, this one is always my favorite. Why? Because the first act is really a setup, establishing the characters, pushing the hero on their call to action, setting the characters on their chosen paths and providing small victories which seem huge at the time. The first act, in other words, is driving by the characters. In the second act, everything is taken away from them.
Mark my words, the second act of Project Kingdom is where things get real. Across the board, characters find their best laid plans going to waste, and even those pulling the strings find themselves losing control. People die. Things go wrong. Powers shift and roles are revered on a regular basis. And I’m exceptionally excited about writing it.
But I’m going to pound out a short story first. Why? Well, I watched the documentary “Postcards from the Future” on Friday night, and Chuck Palahniuk got me all inspired. I started thinking about technology, darkness, and the digital artifacts we leave behind. Throw in a castoff line from a Washington Social Scene Song…(“If any rock’s going to save my soul then what the fuck is it waiting for?”) and a story started to brew.
I banged out an outline in a few minutes, and I liked what I saw. I still don’t know the characters, but I’ve got 4,000 words left on my goal for WriteClubRVA, and I figure it’s about time I knock out something I can show.
I guess that means people are going to get a free story from me. If you’re wondering what my short stories typically look like, I’ve got a couple online in my portfolio.
*Bonus points if you got that movie reference. Hint – it’s my all time favorite film.
Near the start of this year, I had come up with a couple of ideas, large, expansive, and incredibly labor-intensive ideas that I wanted to contribute to the greater writing community.
However, I kept bumping into the fact that while these ideas are really good, they didn’t quite fit on a personal domain where I wanted the freedom to riff on the latest episodes of television or vent about things I found on the internet. Putting those ideas here would muddle their inherent value, dragging emphasis away from the niche, and creating confusion for readers.
Compound that fact with the pure amount of industry watching I’ve been doing over the past few months, and searching, largely in vain, for a centralized website that caters to fiction writers the way that CopyBlogger caters to freelancers, and I saw a definite need.
After talking with a few friends and about the idea, I decided to make the leap. So, on February 18th, I grabbed another domain name and started outlining ideas. Within a few days, the general idea had started to take shape, and I was putting up the first of the content, as my Twitter friends have likely noticed.
For the name, I’m going with Fiction Matters. I couldn’t believe that the domain was free. I think it’s a great play on words – a statement about the importance of fiction, and a statement on the site’s content.
The method is to leverage the entirety of the knowledge that I’ve learned about blogging, from being a journalist, from my experience writing fiction, and from my experience writing many company blogs and working in SEO. To that end, it’s kind of a culmination of knowledge related to both writing and the web.
The goal? Well, that’s to create a solid resource for fiction writers, which I believe will only become more numerous as our current economic crisis pairs itself with the decrease in the barriers towards becoming a fiction writer.
What to expect from Fiction Matters
Tips – In addition to writing tips, I plan on addressing tips for being a writer, tackling the business and promotional aspects which are only going to be become more important to writers in the new age of publishing.
Tools – Technology is increasingly expanding the methods and options that writers have at our disposal. I’d like to address those.
News – It’s important to know what’s going on in the industry. And news comes from many, many sources. I plan to accumulate all of those into one easy to find location.
Resources – I’ve been slowly assembling a compendium of knowledge which addresses the myriad needs of the fiction writer. From a database of industry people and where to find them online to a dictionary that addresses the plethora of writers terms. The goal is to put it all online and make it all searchable.
Community – This one depends on others. Writing is a lonely art, and talking with other writers is a boon. It’s my hope that when the first four pieces come into place, the fifth will evolve organically.
Call to Action
Yes, it’s going to be a lot of hard work to get everything off the ground. The upshot is that once everything is up there and active, Fiction Matters will be a very valuable resource for those who love fiction. Please let me know if you’re interested in contributing in any way.
To say that the internet isn’t going away would be an exercise in understatement. It’s 2009, and the number of people online has surpassed the one billion mark. As a writer, that’s a mind-numbingly large potential audience. And yet, there are still plenty of writers out there without websites. Judging from my readership, you already do, so this might be preaching to the proverbial choir. But, I’m going to do it anyway.
Why should a writer have a website?
Showcase your work
A website is a great place to establish an accessible, readable, and searchable portfolio of the works which make you, the writer, shine. If you’re established, your readers want to read you. If you’re currently establishing yourself, then you can give your reader a reason to want. A writing portfolio should establish desire. How you choose to do that is wholly up to you.
Connect with others
The ability to leave comments on websites has been the standard for better than five years now. Giving readers the ability to comment is a great way to interact with your audience. However, leaving comments on others websites is also an excellent way of meeting and communicating with others in the writing industry – writers, agents, editors, publishers – as well as letting their readers discover you. After all, when you have your own website, you have someplace to link to with your comments.
Practice
The term website and blog have slowly become interchangeable. And for the sake of this post, I’m treating them as synonyms. To that end, a website is a great means to practice the art in which you thrive. It’s also a fantastic method to learn more about yourself as a writer. Why? Articulation often leads to understanding. How many times have you sat down to write about a problem, only to find a solution before you’ve put your pen down?
Brand creation and maintenance
Whether your unpublished or currently on numerous writing short lists, as a writer, you are your own brand. A website is just one tool for establishing a central location for the definitive information on your brand. Or, to put it more bluntly, your writing website is the ultimate guide to you. For more on brand management, I’m recommending this video by Gary Vaynerchuk.
The internet was created for writing
Despite the heaps of love paid to music, photos, and video online, the backbone of the internet was and always will be writing. The internet is a text-based medium. As a writer, this gives you a leg-up on those who don’t embrace the written-word. For a writer to not have a website is to squander that very advantage.
In my article at ProWritingTips.com, I laid out five basic reasons for writing an outline before launching into fiction writing. While these particular tips were tailored for fiction, they were in no way meant to be a definitive guide to outlining. I left out a great deal of detail like how long or in depth an outline should be. Honestly, the article was selfishly tailored towards novels, as my novel is my highest priority.
The wonder that is fiction is drawn from the lack of exact solutions. There is no surefire, one-size-fits-all solution to writing fiction. Attempting to create one would at best leave the creative process hobbled and stifled, and at worst would kill it outright. The bit about a hundred monkeys with a hundred typewriters is pure hogwash.
But, writers do use tools. There are different tools for different projects. There are different tools for different points within the same project. Typically, the writer isn’t even limited to just one tool at any given moment.
The solution that I’ve found works best for me, is to keep myself open to as many tools as possible. After all, my primary goal is to become the best that I can at writing. I have a desire, so strong that it borders on sin, to craft stories in which the reader cannot turn away from. It’s an addiction, and if I can find a better high, I’m likely going to look at it. And I’m likely going to look at it here, or at ProWritingTips.
However, when addressing the topic of tools, the sheer selection means that any instruction on the art of writing will invariable A) leave something out, B) list a method that isn’t exactly applicable with a writer’s current situation, and C) list a method which has several alternatives.
With option B, there isn’t much I can do for you. However, with options A and C, I urge you to speak up. We are, after all, a community. I’m just doing my part to add tools to your writer’s tool chest.
It took me nearly a thousand words into the first chapter of Project Kingdom before I killed someone. Granted, the one who died wasn’t by any means a character in the novel. No, the one who fell is just a by-product of a violent scenario.
As a war veteran, I’m more than familiar with death. The problem is, how far do I water down life and death in combat for my readers?
I’m prone to lean towards realism while trying to maintain the sense of story. After all, I know that war is something for people with a serious stomach, and I don’t want to turn off any readers.
So, the first kill in my novel is rather cinematic.
Setting the scene
Edmon, the spearman in the following, is one of the two protagonists in my novel. He’s just one of dozens of characters, but the story follows him rather closely. In the following scene, he engages in the first act of fatal violence in the book. It’s by no means the last.
In an attempt to make the scene easier on the reader’s palate, I’ve made it more cinematic. My question is…
Too much?
A cry caught his attention, and instinct guided the blade of Edmon’s spear upwards. His eyes locked in horror on a pair of hands raised over a head, grasping the wooden handle of a large rock hammer.
Those hands went limp. That rock hammer fell slowly, tumbling downwards. Edmon watched it as it passed arms that framed a face covered in a beard, black tattoos, and soot. He watched the hammer fall before rough shoulders and a bare, barrel of a chest. He watched it fall in front of a stomach splashed red and wet in blood.
The hammer clanked and clattered against the ground, jumping up and down a few times until finally settling with a handful of shivers. Edmon reached forward and pushed the Bayard warrior with his foot, freeing the end of his spear. The fallen warrior slumped onto the ground, groaning slightly as Edmon kept on his flanking run.
The later violence proceeds in a much quicker manner, however, this scene greets the reader a scant five pages into the first
chapter.
What do you think?
How do you handle violence in your works? How do you handle violence in your works? Do you hide it behind clever art, or deal with in blunt realism?
As a war vet, as some one with kills attached to his name, I can say that there is no sense of morality attached to the act. But, for the reader’s benefit, should I construct one?
Today marked my first blog post outside of this website in quite some time. It’s listed as a guest post right now, but it’s actually going to be a weekly column focusing on the technical aspects of writing fiction.
It’s a more educational take on my personal, casual approach to story-driven writing as seen here.
I’ll be running over a slew of topics dealing with everything from plot structures to character-types to motivational tips. Think Copyblogger, but focusing on fiction, not copy.
At some point in every writer’s career, things get real. It doesn’t matter what the medium – be it copy or fiction – there comes a time where, as a writer, you’ll be sitting at your desk doing everything in your power to avoid writing about something. Call it a block, call it lack of motivation, call it a creative malaise, but for some strange reason some current assignment is a painful experience.
*Not Actual Size
The tragedy is that finishing a piece, especially a creatively strenuous one, is a euphoric moment. It’s a sense of accomplishment that goes beyond mere relief and can often mirror illicit drugs. The level of such a high is often tied to the output required of you, the creator.
There are myriad suggestions for overcoming such blocks. Exercise to clear your mind and pump up your endorphins. Pre-writing to better formulate your ideas. Drinking to get rid of your pesky inhibitions. All of these tactics are easily boiled down to the same general theory – look away from the problem to overcome it.
I’ve had measures of success with each of these.
I am a huge proponent of the outline and mind map. However, I use these to deal not with block, but with sorting out more complex issues. For me, a block isn’t typically a lack of inspiration, but rather a matter of rhythm. I need that rhythm to write. The harder, more complicated the assignment, the harder it is to find the right rhythm for the task.
My method is to trick myself.
That is, I cheat. When forced with writing something I don’t want to write, I often resort to writing that which I do. I pick a sure-fire, guaranteed home run from my list of assignments and swing for the fences. I blast through as quickly as possible, from front to back. And as I tack the final thought onto the work, dismissing any edits or sense of word count, that’s when I make the switch.
As quickly as possible, I throw open a new document on the word processor and dive head long into the tough assignment. The euphoria from that easy home run acts as the primer for the rhythm of that which I’d been avoiding. Everything after that is the perpetual motion of writing.
Things have been quiet around here lately, but not for lack of trying. Frankly, for someone who hasn’t earned an honest paycheck since June, I’ve been remarkably busy. First, I’ve been doing a good bit of freelancing work, so much so that I had to take a good joke and try and turn it into an honest business. If you remember 
Bradley Robb likes TV and books, and has an intense dislike for cinnamon. Once, Bradley stopped a Soviet T-60 with his middle finger. Bradley writes speculative fiction and edits Fiction Matters, and never really got the hang of talking about himself in the third person.