This month’s upcoming edition of the MWA‘s online literary magazine Pen in Hand will include two haiku poems I wrote.
It should be available in a few weeks. I’ll post a link to my Poetry page. I hope you’ll like my poems and the other works that will appear in the issue!
P.S. I’m also now on Twitter and Tumblr!
For those who haven’t seen these yet, here are some pictures from the event Write in Right Now that I participated in a few weeks ago at the Annapolis Regional Library, alongside fellow writers Lucia St. Clair Robson, Jennifer Bort Yacovissi, Sally Whitney, and Leigh Goff:
I had a really good time there. Some of these pictures might lead you to think the attendance was small. It wasn’t (these were taken near the very end as people began to leave). The turnout was absolutely wonderful.
The Capital Gazette featured a nice article about the event (where I am mentioned for my “dark gray blazer”). For all those who are participating in National Novel Writing Month, I wish you the best of luck. Keep up the good work!
An author’s inscription makes your copy of their work unique to you. If you’re a writer yourself, you remember the story behind the inscription, and the connection made with your fellow writer.
Here are seven inscribed books I own:
A Thousand Acres was inscribed during a weekend event for prospective students specifically interested in creative writing at Washington College, where Jane Smiley was the guest speaker.
The Good Thief was inscribed at the very last VOICES author reading I attended at St. Mary’s College. I also received from Hannah Tinti during the subsequent Q&A a pendant of St. Anthony, the patron saint of lost things (which you can see in the slideshow’s fourth picture above), who features in the novel along with a “wishing stone” – a stone with a natural, unbroken ring of another color (another student before me received one).
Reboot! and Beyond Blue were both inscribed during different meetings of the Annapolis chapter of the MWA, where Phil Burgess and Austin S. Camacho were the respective guest speakers.
The Last Government Girl was inscribed at the Baltimore Book Festival in September 2015. As I had won second place in the MWA Contest’s creative nonfiction category, Ellen Herbert won in the novel category.
I purchased Up the Hill to Home at Barnes & Noble in Bowie. When I opened it, to my surprise it already bore Jennifer Bort Yacovissi‘s inscription!
Sally Whitney‘s Surface and Shadow was inscribed during the book’s launch party at the Annapolis bookstore.
In addition to these books, I have an inscribed short story, Gasoline, written by Jennifer Cognard-Black under the pseudonym J. Annie MacLeod. It was given to me as a gift at the end of my first semester at St. Mary’s:
Finally, I have two promotional cards won in a drawing at another meeting of the Annapolis chapter of the MWA, where James L. Gossard talked about his graphic novel Mobtown. They bear his inscription along with those of his collaborators, Gabe Fremuth and Anthony Ness:
I remember inscribing the anthology which included my essay during the previously mentioned Baltimore Book Festival. Someday soon, with future novels, hopefully I will do for others as these authors did for me.
I’ve always been a fan of horror fiction, and every October I watch scary movies all month long. During my first semester at St. Mary’s College, I took a Freshman Seminar called Victorian Monsters and Modern Monstrosities. Professor Jennifer Cognard-Black introduced us (we came to be known as “Marvelous Monsters”) to six archetypes. With each we read a corresponding literary classic:
Here are some of my notes from the start of the seminar regarding core themes:
Indeed, these archetypes reflect Victorian social fears and limits. Yet there is something about what’s considered monstrous that draws people in. We delight in feeling terrified. We are interested in the unknown. During Victorian times revolutions were underway in science and philosophy. The establishment clashed with the Enlightenment.
The Freak is considered, as I wrote in my notebook, the “embodiment of cultural anxiety”. Freaks are the ultimate outsiders, who can never fit due to a social abnormality, physical or not. Dr. Frankenstein’s creation is a result of his desire to know higher truth. Yet, out of fear for what he achieved, he abandons his creation. The creature longs to be human. Born innocent, he teaches himself by observing them. Yet they ultimately reject him. Mary Shelley was shunned for being her eventual husband’s mistress while he was still married to his first wife. Shunned himself, Frankenstein’s creation becomes a raging and vengeful monster, but only because society made him one. He still has a heart and feels guilt.
The Deviant can infiltrate society and take it down from within, without guilt. Count Dracula moves to London and attacks young well-born women, who symbolize what is valued by Victorian society. After the character Lucy is vampirized, she attacks children, representative of society’s future. The vampire deviates from social norms through murder and raw sexuality (something Bram Stoker could only reference indirectly in his time), and operates secretively. Yet Dracula is from a different world than Victorian London. His is one of superstition, presenting a clash between Christian and non-Christian. Exotic landscapes and languages are seen as beautiful yet terrifying. Though Victorians saw themselves as cosmopolitan, they enjoyed expressing exotic tastes. Stoker merged old and new, drawing from folklore while using a contemporary setting.
Sometimes what is deviant to one culture is not to another. A Horrorscape can be seen as a Deviant story in reverse. After tumbling down the rabbit hole, Alice enters a world where everything that defined hers, her whole cultural upbringing, is turned upside down. Everyone’s mad. Alice tells the caterpillar she’s not herself. She cannot conform. She’s transgressive. Perhaps the inhabitants of Wonderland saw Alice as a Deviant trying to tear down their world.
The notion of giving in to one’s “animal” instincts is most clearly depicted in Animagi. They represent a move away from rational towards emotional, thus revealing the beast hidden within, which is violent and aggressive. Dr. Moreau’s creations blur the boundary between man and beast. Another famous example is the werewolf. Often those animals personifying evil are feared, exotic predators. Such instincts can be classified as Christian deadly sins: greed, gluttony, anger, and lust. Yet there is something appealing about giving in: a sense of freedom. H. G. Wells defied convention by advocating “free love,” and was notorious for his affairs.
The schizo is the ultimate human split between good and evil, yet it is often unclear which is the true personality. Though Jekyll’s desire to know the unknown results in a physical transformation (which is not required for schizos), it can exist solely within the mind), even if Hyde is guilty of crimes Jekyll would never commit, Hyde is still a part of him, and slowly takes over. It calls into question identity itself. Identity is in turn reflected in residency and possessions. Jekyll lives in a respectable, cosmopolitan neighborhood; Hyde’s is far less respectable. Once I watched a documentary discussing how Robert Louis Stevenson’s birthplace, Edinburgh, was a city divided between old and new, rich and poor, suggesting that duality may be what inspired his story.
Victorians had a dual perspective regarding women, at a time when many like Shelley’s mother began challenging the status quo and seeking rights in what was still a male-dominated world (a world in which Shelley published anonymously while Charlotte Brontë and her sisters used male pseudonyms). On one side was virginity, marriage and motherhood. On the other were Madwomen: temptresses, mistresses, witches – women who played upon men’s desires, using their femininity for selfish, nefarious purposes. The lunatic Bertha Mason prevents Jane Eyre from marrying Rochester because she’s his wife (though she would later be portrayed as a victim in Wide Sargasso Sea). She dominates Rochester through marriage. Madwomen seek power over men, and greater knowledge (tied back to Eve in Eden). Women were linked symbolically with Nature because of their ability to bear children. Sometimes madwomen were associated with water and drowning, though Bertha herself dies by fire.
People are inexplicably drawn to what terrifies them. These fears and anxieties live on today. There are still outsiders, some by choice and others who have none. Criminals deviate. We all struggle with primal urges and desires. Wherever there are rules, there are always rebels. Perhaps that is why we still enjoy horror fiction. That seminar was the highlight of my first semester. I loved it. Hopefully someday I’ll apply some of these themes to horror stories of my own.
Writers create more than stories and characters. They create places, sometimes within the world of today or the past. There are also places, and whole worlds that never existed, except within the imagination.
I find the key to worldbuilding is how believable it feels. A good setting, however fantastical, must feel real to the writer and reader (with satire and comedy you can get away with this). A few times on the British sitcom Are You Being Served? when the characters would put on theatrical pageants, senior saleswoman Mrs. Slocombe was going to (or wanted to) play a character far younger than herself. Someone would remark that it was “make-believe” to which there were responses of “We’re going to have to stretch our imaginations” and (to Mrs. Slocombe’s chagrin) “Not to the point of incredibility.”
Many considerations are necessary. Every detail must harmonize with the story, style, and themes. Otherwise, that sense of reality will shatter. The reader will be left questioning why a certain little thing is the way it is rather than enjoying the story.
A contemporary setting, whether fictional or not, is usually pretty easy. With a historical backdrop, I recommend doing research into what life was like back then. Or perhaps the world is science-fiction, set several years in the future like Star Trek, or like Star Wars in a galaxy far, far away. There I suggest looking at the present, not just science and technology but the whole world. Imagine where it could all go in the future. Or it could be an alternate reality: what it would the world like had the past been different?
In fantasy, where the greatest amount of world-building undoubtedly occurs, I find it best to begin by looking at history, or even mythology. Suppose your world could have existed. Where and when would it be? Perhaps there’s more than one possibility. If so, perhaps you can merge them. J. R. R. Tolkien drew on myth, religion, and his own life experiences, from childhood and World War I, to create his stories.
Early on I envisioned my story as an epic adventure that would’ve taken place long, long ago. As a child I’d always been fascinated with knights. So I researched medieval life and society. However when it came to symbolism, names, and other details, initially I didn’t pay as much attention. It was a mix from various sources.
With new drafts of course came changes and the need to make everything fit together. As I mentioned before, I renamed characters, places, and things to strengthen my story’s feeling of “Gaelicness” which came out of a lifelong love for nature. I added details and symbols inspired by Ancient Celtic life and Irish myth. But I was careful not to take them too far, so they didn’t feel out of place with what I already had. I looked again to history and symbolism to help refine the “map” of my world. It is at present no longer a purely medieval setting but a mixture of different periods, which thereby makes it more its own unique world.
When it came to magic, rituals, and beliefs, I looked at myth and folklore, as well as numerous books and articles on Wicca, Neopaganism, Neo-Druidism, natural magic and spirituality. This research helped me reinforce the atmosphere I wanted. I’ve found that bridging ideas and sentiments from the modern world with ones from the old helps readers connect with themselves more.
When it came to the environment, I ultimately looked to the flora and fauna of Ireland and Britain. Brian Jacques, the late author of the Redwall saga, once said that he chose creatures native to his homeland for his anthropomorphic characters, rather than trying to use every animal in the zoo. I considered the latter once, until I realized many would never survive outside of a habitat not their own, and it would be too crowded. One or two exceptions won’t hurt. Still, they shouldn’t be too out of place. Herbs were researched for medicinal purposes. Some were later discarded as they were either not native to those lands or not found in a temperate climate. Many trees were chosen for being sacred to the Celts.
In addition to real creatures, I tried cramming in mythical ones too. Earlier drafts of my book included gryphons, unicorns, dragons, elves, dwarves and centaurs. The latter three were dropped as it again was a problem of overcrowding. With too many details, places and characters, a story becomes lost in itself. As a writer, you have to know when to stop.
If you write a series of books with an imaginary setting, I strongly advise you do NOT map out the entire world at the very beginning. Otherwise, you’ll be trapping your story (and yourself) in a box from which if you try to expand out of could lead to contradiction or dead ends. Without a complete box/map, you can add newer details with much more freedom. I found it very relieving, as I was able to concentrate more on my plot. Thus, the world and characters could grow in conjunction with it.
I will continue to build this fantasy world I’ve created as the trilogy progresses. Other, completely different worlds will no doubt follow with future projects. As in all aspects of writing, worldbuilding is undertaken with trial, error, patience, passion, and dedication. It is all part of a writer’s evolution.
Writers must play a role in marketing their work, so that prospective readers will know about it, and them as writers. Central to that role is taking their written words off the page by reading aloud. Sometimes there are full-length reads in person, or short clips meant to entice readers to want more. Writers also speak publicly about their experiences as writers. In all cases, it is important to give a strong presentation.
Before stories were written, they were told aloud. We still read them aloud today. As a child my parents read to me before bed, which I hope to do someday when I have children of my own. Some of my favorite TV shows were essentially narrations of the stories they were based on, from Beatrix Potter’s tales to The Railway Series by Reverend Awdry (these were narrated by George Carlin and Ringo Starr). The narrators I remember did an excellent job. I watched them over and over again. Those stories stuck with me. In recent years when I volunteered at a library annex on Ft. Meade, once in a while I read aloud to visiting children. Listening to and telling stories are a way we can connect to each other.
In school I read my work aloud, which continued at St. Mary’s. I listened to writers talk as part of the college’s VOICES reading series. Back in high school I participated in the drama club, where I had to memorize lines. Public readings and talks are themselves a dramatic performance. Therefore, the writer is an actor playing a role. Charles Dickens gave numerous readings of his work (notably A Christmas Carol). He actually considered becoming an actor before he started writing. Nevertheless, he was a master of vocalizing characters. It has been sadly noted his time was before voices could start being recorded, so we can never hear what he sounded like.
My mother told me I could once recite Dr. Seuss’s The Cat in the Hat from beginning to end. I have no memory of that sadly, but I certainly have been able to quote works I have read. At work I’ve done so when people check out those works, such as Shakespeare. In my junior year of high school, I participated in a Poetry Out Loud contest where I recited Shakespeare’s famous Sonnet XVIII: “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”. Although I froze near the end, I managed to save my performance and ended up winning third place.
The first time I read from my work that was published was back in September at the Baltimore Book Festival, for my creative nonfiction essay on Asperger syndrome. In analogy to King George VI, that reading could be considered my Wembley speech. Though I dressed the part of a writer (someone there even commented so) right down to the Tweed jacket, I did not prepare well at all. I had to select which excerpts to read then and there. Also, in choosing I could see parts I felt could have been written better, and in the end, I rushed through it, flustering.
People still enjoyed it, but I knew it could have been better. Pictures taken that day show me looking frustrated. To the superstitious, I guess it did not help that a black cat crossed the road as I was preparing to leave for Baltimore (no joke; that really happened). That day was a lesson to never be totally unprepared. The next reading, I knew had to be better. When I agreed to participate in an open mic event back in April, I repeatedly recorded myself reading using an app on my iPhone. I listened to myself, noting where I needed improvement. After the final reading it and watching the video recording of it, I felt satisfied. I hope the next public reading will be better, and every one to come.
Author, teacher, speaker and voiceover artist Izolda Trakhtenberg discussed the importance of speaking well at the Annapolis MWA meeting last week. She showed us different exercises to help in preparation for reading aloud. In many ways they reminded me of Geoffrey Rush’s portrayal of Lionel Logue in The King’s Speech. She showed us a writer needs to have good vocal presence, posture, balance, breathing, and must connect with the audience by maintaining eye contact. Regulated breathing helps you speak better. Eye contact has always been difficult for me, with my Asperger syndrome.
I and others at the meeting read a few lines of dialogue from published or unpublished work. In my case, I read from an early scene in my novel, during the protagonist’s first meeting with his eventual mentor. Izolda mentioned I started strong but went softer and mumbled. Would that not have happened had I practiced? Perhaps. Still, I was complemented for using a lower pitch of voice for my mentor in contrast to my protagonist to show who was more confident and self-assured. She suggested to all of us that we record samples of different vocal tones so to remember them for specific characters.
Public appearances are important. Now I don’t want my presentation of myself to become my life. I hope to live a private life away from public eyes, so it in turn can truly inspire my work. Nevertheless, I hope to do more readings so people will know me and my work. I’m sure there will be mistakes, but I accept that. Everyone makes mistakes, including me. The best I can do is minimize them as much as I can.
So asks the heroine of Romeo and Juliet. Her new boyfriend’s name is hated by her family, whose own name is hated by his in turn. Names are an integral part of our identity, which Juliet acknowledges. Their families’ names define the feud, while their individual names have become symbolic of tragic forbidden love. As a writer, I have come to believe choosing the right name for a fictional character, or even a place, thing or title, makes a big difference.
Initially I paid little attention to those I chose and/or created for my novel. One beta reader who read early drafts said there was a “Gaelicness” to my story, which was what I wanted. Soon after I looked at the names more closely and decided they didn’t reflect that feeling. With my characters, several felt too modern; a greater number didn’t feel like the kind I’d expect to find in a story set within an imaginary “Gaelic” world.
A few old ones have survived (and were moved around) as I felt they could still reflect that feeling. Nevertheless, most were changed. For my characters, the new names chosen were predominantly of Irish and Welsh origin, with a few Scottish and Celtic ones intermixed as well. At the same time, I wanted to make sure most would be easy to pronounce. Several of the ones I looked at I knew might be hard to say. So for some I went with the Anglicized spelling. And every once in a while there is a “modern” name which originates from ancient history or myth. Places and things were given names created using actual Gaelic words with specific meanings. Like the book title, I won’t reveal any just yet. I have learned when you change them on beta readers, it causes confusion. Once they grow accustomed to a name, it sticks. And they could still change.
Genre, I feel, is a key factor to consider. Some I feel are stricter than others. Fantasy can be, often depending on the setting. Science-fiction in contrast, especially if futuristic, is very liberating. Historical fiction is perhaps the strictest. I recommend making sure most names are at least semi-common, if not known, in the chosen time period. For instance, I would be cautious giving a character in an 18th century setting a first name that didn’t come into use until the 19th century. Some stories, like mine, have names meant to reflect a theme or another aspect about them. Comedy and satire are others, where you will sometimes find “silly” names. William Goldman used that word to describe some he chose for characters in The Princess Bride.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not against using uncommon names, nor creating either new names or new variants of existing ones. I created such a variant for one of my novel’s characters. A few more may certainly follow in the sequels. Sir Walter Scott and Oscar Wilde respectively gave us Cedric (derived from the Anglo-Saxon name Cerdic) and Dorian (possibly taken from an ancient Greek tribe, the Dorians) in Ivanhoe and The Picture of Dorian Gray. All I will say is, depending on the story you’re writing, be careful not to overuse them.
Even my novel’s main mythical species has variant spellings: griffin, griffon, and gryphon. The first, undoubtedly the most common, is also a surname (perhaps the most famous literary example being the title character of H. G. Wells’s The Invisible Man) and occasional given name. The second is also used for certain dog breeds. I was introduced to the third in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. I chose that spelling because it not only seemed the most fantasy-like to me, but some feel it is the one to use when portraying this creature as noble and intelligent, much like the one in Lewis Carroll’s novel.
Often names come down to the characters themselves. Any combination of a number of factors can have an influence (or be influenced), such as ethnic background, religion, social status, family traditions, nicknames, or a change of name (if so, why?). Perhaps there’s something about their personality or appearance you want to reflect, or the opposite. Many comic book superheroes’ alter egos have names that sound common, meant to not draw attention. But some are unique too. Some could be inside references. The classic film Halloween contains several, to both people and places.
In his book Your Screenplay Sucks!: 100 Ways to Make It Great, William M. Akers offers some helpful tips which I find very helpful and can be applied to all forms of fiction writing. He recommends varying up the beginning letter, ending rhyme, and letter length to lessen the likelihood of confusion.
It all seems a lot, and certainly can run the risk of being overthought. All those factors previously mentioned do not have to have influence, nor need to. Not every fictional character, place, or thing even needs to be named. In the end, we all have different tastes. We writers must choose names because we want them. But remember, these fictional creations are our children, the children of our mind. Those of mine whom I name, I want names which suit them.
Here are links to some websites I refer to when searching for character names (some of them are interlinked):
The novel I’m trying to publish includes a prologue, which I recently read at an open mic. Prologues I’ve discovered are tricky. It would seem they are generally discouraged in publishing. However, I’ve seen books, including bestsellers, which have them. Even in movies you’ll find them. There are different kinds of prologues too. Lital Talmor has created lists of different categories, good and bad (see Further Reading below).
This particular prologue I have furiously tried to keep as many beta readers and fellow writers in critique groups (all of whom shall remain anonymous) gave their opinion of it and the rest of the manuscript. Why you might ask did I want to keep it so much? Was it even worth it?
I’ve learned if a prologue is going to be written, it must have a specific purpose. In order to draw readers in, the first few pages, with or without one, must hook them. If the prologue doesn’t do that, it ought to be discarded. At the beginning, what I wanted mine to do was show what is at the heart of the story, which is the beauty and importance of Nature. Throughout the manuscript and especially the prologue, when it came to Nature imagery, I got a bit poetic, which at the time was what I wanted.
One of my first beta readers liked it for the juxtaposition of Nature’s beauty with its destruction, which shows what is at stake. However, as I would later learn from other readers, that was not enough. In the earliest drafts of my novel, the entire prologue was a dream sequence. However, I soon learned that was a big no-no. Furthermore, it was, as Maeve Maddox (see Further Reading below) would point out, largely atmosphere. Lilley herself advises against such a prologue. Maddox says if your prologue feels “boring” then readers will want to go straight to Chapter 1. Those who read my earliest version felt it was too “detached” from the plot, and the style “wordy”. Clearly then if changes were not made it would have to go, or at least be broken up within the main plot somehow. Maddox herself offers that solution in the case of backstory.
So, in an attempt to keep my prologue, I made only the second half a dream sequence, with the protagonist describing it as he was looking back on past events. So I sort of made it a cross between what Talmor calls “background” prologue and a “future protagonist” one (the idea had come around because I have considered an epilogue at the end of the trilogy where he is a young man reflecting on the story’s events). I chose to withhold his name, hoping to make readers wonder who he was and want to read more to find out. Even then, critique group members still felt it was too detached from the story.
I found inspiration from the first Iron Man film. It has a “prologue” showing Tony Stark attacked and wounded, then after the movie title shifts back to 36 hours prior. So instead of having my protagonist years later, I had it set in the main plot, with Chapter 1 beginning some days before the prologue’s events and the early pages build up to that moment, which occurs before the first quarter mark. I added dialogue between the protagonist and another character, so it would not be mere atmosphere anymore, but still there are no names included. One beta reader who read this version liked it and described it as “intriguing”. While even acknowledging publishers do not always like prologues, she felt mine “worked”. So perhaps I am on the right track. I also believe that beginning with Chapter 1 as it is now, it would feel too sudden a start.
Some still thought it too wordy, and I have continued to try to find a balance. Recently, listening to myself reading it out loud helped me simplify it even more. In the end, I am reminded of my father’s advice: the important thing is to tell a story and tell it well. He has also told me less is more, especially with writing. In the end I have come to finally accept that I maybe I did get carried away with the “poetic” feel, and it certainly could get in the way of delivering the message and drawing in readers. So perhaps a poetic style was not the right fit for a young adult audience after all.
Will this prologue be discarded before publication? Will it become something different than it is now? I cannot say. I can say not every book I write will have a prologue, nor need one, but I’d like to try it a few more times, perhaps using Talmor’s categories. If the day comes that I try screenwriting, it will be the same. But I will make sure I want it in a story, and that it will serve a purpose, or I won’t have one at all.
Here’s my reading of my prologue:
Andrew McDowell 