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The Kibitzer and The Kidd, part 6

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It wasn’t fair. Not only did he have a nickname he didn’t like – Kibbey – but he was also sleeping in the stable with the horses. Horse and hay, flatulence and flies, though it seemed odd that there were so many flies at night. He wondered if a fly got zapped by lightning, would it be resurrected.

Even the popcorn they delivered to him was stale and a little soggy from the humidity it picked up from the air. He had a bag of his own, but it had started raining again, so he couldn’t pop it outside. He looked around to see if the blacksmith’s workshop was part of the stables or nearby.

There was not a blacksmith’s forge, so he was on his own to create a fire.

He understood that the Kidd was the hero, having shot the pistol out of the floor-faced man’s hand. He knew that kibitzers were not easily or fully accepted into society. They were witnesses and scribes, and they reported to an authority most didn’t know about or understand. He certainly wasn’t sure why he had been selected. His family were not kibitzers. Nor any of his friends. And when they came in the middle of the night and told him he was selected, they did not give him a chance to say goodbye to his wife and two sons. Only a short note, quickly scribbled. It read: I’ve been selected. Don’t wait up.

He wasn’t sure how long ago that was, what his wife was like now, if his sons even remembered him.

The Kibitzer piled some hay in one area of mostly dirt. It was turning cold. He’d need the fire for more than popcorn.

Popcorn was his only solace. Bags of it turned up at the oddest times in the oddest places. He took it as a sign he was doing a good job.

He kept a book of matches dry and buried deep in a saddle bag. They were hard to get and he usually sparked a fire with a piece of flint and a piece of steel he carried; but they were both wet from rain. He was also too tired to try.

He added a piece of dried horse manure to the hay pile.

He found the matches, walked back to the pile of straw and dried other things and selected one from the box.

It was then somebody, head draped in a hood, stepped into the stable and tossed a torch on a larger pile of hay nearby. As the man left, he said, “Don’t wait up.”

At least that’s what the Kibitzer thought he said. The words were muffled by the hood. The words stunned him. By the time the Kibitzer recovered, the fire had spread to other parts of the stable, and the culprit was gone, and the Kibitzer was trapped.

(To be continued.)

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Found story: Frank and Ike

“Frank, what are we?”

“We’re pumpkins, Ike.”

“But if we’re pumpkins, how come we’re white?”

Frank and Ike

Frank (left) and Ike (right) discuss life as a pumpkin.

“Halloween came and went, and when Christmas came along, they decorated us up as snowmen. Or at least the heads of them.”

“Oh, nice, Frank.”

“If you say so.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ike, just wait and see.”

#

Ike Closeup

Ike tells Frank they're changing.

“Frank, are you still there?”

“Yes, Ike.”

“We’re changing. I feel it on the inside.”

“If you say so.”

#

“Frank, look at you.”

“I can’t see myself, Ike. I can’t even see you now.”

“Frank, I’m scared.”

“I know.”

Ike undone

Ike becoming undone.

“Frank, what are we?”

“We’re friends.”

“I mean, what are we? What are we becoming?”

“We’re pumpkins, Ike. We’ve been pumpkins. We are pumpkins. We will always be pumpkins.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“That’s good to know, Frank. Good to know.”

“Good bye, Ike.”

“Frank, don’t leave me.”

“Frank … Frank ….”

Frank undone

Frank undone.

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The Good Doctor S.

Dr. Seuss, can you come and play?
Dr. Seuss, it’s your birthday.
Dr. Seuss, can you stay?
Dr. Seuss has gone away.
Oh, Dr. Seuss, you cause dismay
and all the children want to say,
“Slay the monster or feed it hay,
that mean ol’ one that took you away.
Leave it toys or snacks on a tray,
however odd, bizarre, outre.
Oh, Dr. Seuss, what a display
Of love we have for you this day.

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Writing Tip: Successful Revision

[Editor’s note: the essay below is taken from an e-mail newsletter sent out by the writer Bruce Hale. you can find his web site at: http://www.brucehalewritingtips.com/. You can also sign up for his e-newsletter at that site. Each electronic newsletter comes with other information, including a writing joke.]

5 ELEMENTS OF A SUCCESSFUL REVISION

By Bruce Hale

So you’ve finished that first draft and let your story marinate in its own juices for a while, and now it’s time for revision. Only question is: where to start?

With a picture book, that’s not too terribly daunting. But with a longer novel, you’d be well served to devise a strategy before plunging into those narrative hickets that can swallow the unwary writer. I suspect everyone has his or her own favored approach to revision. Here’s the one I’ve found most useful…

1. FIRST READ
First time through, the hardest thing is to *just* read your story and take notes. No line edits, no grammar corrections, no paragraph revisions — just reading. But if you want to be able to see the whole forest, instead of the individual trees, this approach is vital.

By all means, take copious notes. “Tighten the opening on page 43;” “wonky sentence on page 12, first paragraph;” “fix the plot logic in Chapter 18.” These are all helpful. And they prepare the way for…

2. FIRST REVISION
Once you’ve waded through your story and taken copious notes, congratulate yourself. It’s not as bad as you thought, right? (We hope.) With this optimistic thought, it’s time to roll up the sleeves and plunge into wholehearted revision.

The first time through, work on larger issues: plot holes, character inconsistencies, gaps in story logic, slow scenes that need to be trimmed, and so forth. You can always do the fine polishing later.

Revise sequentially if you can, rather than skipping around. For any sections that require you to write new material, use the same method you would in a first draft: write it fast and sloppy. After all, you can always fix it in the NEXT revision.

3. READ-ALOUD REVISION
Taking the time to read your work aloud may seem redundant at this point, but it’s necessary. You won’t believe how many errors you’ll catch. Homonyms, awkward phrasing, missing words, echoes (unintentionally repeated words) — all these will pop out at you like Halloween skeletons at a haunted house.

This is the revision where you can really focus on the sound and rhythm of your writing. Listen for those areas that sound clunky and don’t really roll off the tongue — that’s your cue to break out the belt sander and make things smooooth.

4. DIALOG REVISION
Once the story is as good as you can make it, and you’ve read aloud to catch hidden glitches, it’s time to turn the microscope on your dialog. First, make sure each character speaks differently. Have them use different idioms, word choice and catch phrases — otherwise, they’ll all sound like each other (or like you).

Top-notch authors like Elmore Leonard vary their character dialog so deftly, they don’t even need attributions (he said/she said). It’s that clear who’s speaking. In real life, we all have our own ways of putting things. So just make sure your fictional characters possess that same distinction.

5. FINAL CHECK
Before I send my story off to agent or editor, I usually try to let it sit for a week or so, then do one last read-through, to make sure all my changes fit, and to smooth out any remaining rough edges. This is an ideal time to search for words you overuse. (And we *all* overuse certain pet words.)

For example, I know that I tend to drop in “just” and “only” too often, and I tend to have too many characters shrugging and nodding. A quick search for these words shows me where I’ve overdone it, and a quick fix guards against too much sameness in the manuscript.

And that’s about all I can bear to write on the subject of revision right now. I think you know why. Yes — time to get back to revising my latest story.

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Found story: the eyes have it

He was a small time thief. Never stealing more than what it took to get by. He’d been caught a couple of times, but managed to work his way out of any real time behind bars by turning snitch or offering some other piece of information the cops could use.

But this was one theft attempt he couldn’t believe. He was being paid to steal two pairs of eyeglasses: a mother’s and a daughter’s. He didn’t like the idea of stealing a young girl’s glasses. He had less than 20/20 vision himself, but because it wasn’t discovered until he was in high school, he had already been labeled difficult to teach, a problem student, and his grades had suffered, and so at sixteen, he dropped out of school and into a life of crime. He didn’t want that to happen to her, but eventually decided the money was too good to pass up. The guy who wanted the glasses, wanted both pairs. He wouldn’t settle for only one.

But he had to steal the glasses today, before 9 PM, or no money. It was already 4 PM when he got the job. It was 5:30 and storming when he found the mother and daughter.

He followed them and decided to strike when they walked into a building that had once housed a milling company. The banner on the awning of the renovated entryway said: “Amateur joke night: Everybody welcome.”

Certainly, there would be a chance here to steal the glasses. His only concern was he had not seen the glasses he was supposed to steal, at least not up close. Like most women he knew, they were probably vain about wearing them, unless they had to. Of course, he was a little vain about wearing his glasses, too, and he hated the idea of contacts. His poor eyesight has been one of the main reasons he had never been more than a petty thief.

He sat beside the mother and daughter, the mother’s big handbag on the floor between them.

The joke telling went on for too long. Most of the jokes were old, and most of the telling was enthusiastic but unpolished. Every now and then there was a good laugh. On top of that, the room was warm. Sweat ran down the back of the petty thief’s neck. The time was 8:37 PM. It would take him ten minutes to get to the meeting point.

The mother picked up the bag, took something out, laid the bag back down, and then turned away from the thief and was talking with her young daughter.

The petty thief glanced around to see if anybody was looking, then reached down and gently pulled the bag into this lap. He was looking down into it when the lightning cackled, the thunder boomed, and then the lights immediately went out.

When the lights winked back on, he was still holding the handbag. It was 8:46. The mother and daughter turned to look at him. He screamed, threw the bag down, and bolted from the room.

Mother and daughter in special glasses

Mother and daughter in special glasses

Everyone laughed.

It wasn’t until he was safely outside in the rain that the petty thief understood why the person he was stealing the glasses for was called “The Clown.”

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Ten Rules for Writing, and a bonus rule

Pathway

Rules are like a pathway and can be helpful.

Despite the writer W. Somerset Maugham’s admonition that there are three rules for writing, but unfortunately nobody knows them, there continue to be plenty of offerings from an ever-growing number of people. Here is yet another set of rules provided by European bestselling author Glenn Meade at the Knoxville Writers’ Guild on Thursday, Feb. 2, 2012. Commentary and fleshing out provided by the blog editor, David E. Booker. A partial list of Meade’s novels are at the end of this entry. Use these writing rules as you see fit.

1) First, action, then reaction

Your protagonist needs to be taking action, not just reacting to the events of the story / novel / film / play. Of course, there is always one major exception to this. That is at the very beginning. At that point, the protagonist is usually reacting to what is referred to as the inciting incident. For example, think of the first Star Wars movie. Luke Skywalker is “stuck” on his uncle’s farm in an out-of-the-way part of the galaxy. He longs for something else, but feels like he will never get it. Then storm troopers arrive, ransack the farm, kill his uncle and aunt, and as it puts it: “There is nothing for me here now.” So, to borrow from another story about a young boy: he lights out for the territories. So, at the start of your story, it is usually the antagonist that takes the first action, to which the protagonist reacts, and then begins action to restore the balance upset by the antagonist.

2) Showing is better than telling

It usually works better if you show how a character feels about another one rather than telling. If boy loves his dog, how does he show it? By feeding the dog, playing with it, letting it sleep with him (especially if his parents object), or in spite of having allergies which the dog dander might aggravate.

3) Every scene has three senses

Photo of three leaves

Every scene has three senses.

There is more than meets the eye on the printed page. How do the flowers smell? What does the rain feel like? Even, how does a particular place make the protagonist feel? Does going back to a childhood home make him feel sad or happy, angry or melancholic? Smells can evoke emotions, so describe how something smells, then maybe describe how the protagonist reacts to the smell, if it is important for him or her to do.

4) If you have two heroines, make one blond and the other brunette

Give your main characters distinguishing physical characteristics, or some sort of distinguishing characteristics. Certainly, hair color is a very easy characteristic, and can help you, the author, tell your characters apart, regardless of their sex.

5) Likeable protagonist

Readers want to at the very least empathize with your protagonist and her situation and the easiest way to do this is to make her likeable. That doesn’t meant she should be perfect. Perfection won’t help your character.

There are other ways to make your protagonist empathetic. One, make her the best at whatever she does. Two, put her in extreme peril early on in the story. This could be mental or physical, though physical might be easier to show. Three, make her the underdog. Almost everybody has a soft spot for the underdog, even a smart alecky one. Four, use humor. Nothing like humor to break the ice and break the barrier between protagonist and reader.

6) Dialogue is people talking

It is not, as it is sometimes referred to: “As you know, Fred” exchanging of information. It is not one chemist telling another chemist something they should both already know about chemical reactions.

It is also not rambling speech that goes nowhere, or tails off, or full of the “ahs” and “ohs” and other verbal ticks we all have.

Dialogue

Dialogue is not as easy as it sounds.

No real-life conversation would work verbatim in a story. Dialogue is “heighten” speech. It gives the impression of everyday speech, but with “half the fat” so to say.

Also, the best dialogue is often not about what the dialogue is about. Or, to quote Bob McKee, from his writing book Story: “If the scene is about what the scene is about, then the scene is dead.” In short, dialogue is often as much about what is NOT said as what is said.

All of the above is part of what makes dialogue tough to master.

7) Speech ties to speech acts

This can be overdone, both in the number of times used and as a way to sneak in adverbs and adjectives. Example: “Hey,” Bob said, waving his hand to get her attention. He straightened his tie as his date approached. This lets the reader know that Bob might be a little nervous, that this could be his first date with the woman. What you don’t want to do is go: “Hey,” Bob said, waving his hand excitedly to get her attention. He straightened his tie nervously as she approached.

Speech ties to speech acts is also the simple matter of if there is an action that follows somebody speaking, the action is that of the person speaking. Example: “Hey,” Bob said. She waved her hand to get his attention. Unless Bob is short for Bobbie is short for Roberta and “Bob” is how she is usually referred to and the reader knows this, the above is one person speaking followed by another person doing an action.

8) Paragraphs are for point of view

Within a paragraph, stick to one character’s point of view. If you need to switch points of view, start a new paragraph.

9) Scenes have a certain movement

Each scene or chapter has its own small arc to it. A chapter might have several small arcs to them. Within that arc, there is movement: physical, emotional, mental, spiritual. That movement is generally from a negatively charge beginning to a positively charged ending, or from a positive beginning to a negative ending.

Example, if in scene A, your protagonist is trying to get to a friend’s house, the end of that scene will be when he gets there or doesn’t. But along the way, he shouldn’t stop to buy a Mother’s Day card for his mother, a sweet role for his breakfast, stop and read the newspaper (whatever that is), or anything else that interrupts the flow. Certainly, the protagonist can run into obstacles, but the obstacles should be in importance to the scene and story. For example, if the protagonist getting to his friends house is a minor part of the story, it should not be weighed down with major obstacles. The only possible exception to this is if you are writing a humorous story, the obstacles can be out of proportion, but they should still be weighed against the overall flow of the story. After all, a humorous story with one scene that is much more funny than the rest of the story will only make the rest of the story seem flat.

10) Stick to the rules

If a character has a characteristic on page one, she should still have that characteristic on page 10 and throughout the story.

11) Upon occasion, don’t be afraid to break the rules

Know the rules, but also know when to bend or even break them. God won’t smite you and sometimes it’s necessary. But it should not be the first thing you try and like seasoning in a soup often works best when done in small amounts. A little salt can go a long.

Writing books to consider:
Stein on Writing by Sol Stein
Writing the Breakout Novel by Donald Maass
Story: Substance, Structure, Style, and the Principles of Screenwriting by Robert McKee.

Some novels by Glenn Meade:
The Second Messiah: a Thriller
Snow Wolf
Resurrection Day
Web of Deceit
The Devil’s Disciple.

Young writer at work

Young writer at work.

Some novels by the web log editor:
Not one. Not yet, anyway. Working on it.

Disclaimer: any errors are mine. Somebody has to own them.

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The cold chains

The garden wall leans
into wind rattling old vines.
The cold chains my heart.

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Epic fight to put awesome in its place

http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-holland-20120106,0,2183189.column

Trying to drive a stake through a conversational staple

British-born poet and journalist John Tottenham says that saying ‘awesome’ in his presence is like ‘waving a crucifix in a vampire’s face.’

Gale Holland, Los Angeles Times

January 6, 2012

“Awesome,” according to one dictionary of slang, is “something Americans use to describe everything.”

The linguistic overkill horrifies John Tottenham. So the British-born L.A. poet, painter and journalist has launched what he calls the Campaign to Stamp Out Awesome, or CPSOA.

“Saying the word in my presence is like waving a crucifix in a vampire’s face,” Tottenham says. “It’s boiled down to one catchall superlative that’s completely meaningless.”

I met with Tottenham last week at CSPOA headquarters inside Stories, the Echo Park bookstore he is trying to turn into the world’s first awesome-free zone. “Ground zero for a quiet revolution,” Tottenham calls the cafe and shop, where he has a day job. The group’s manifesto is posted at the counter, and no-awesome stickers with the usual diagonal slash are on sale, with T-shirts to follow, Tottenham said.

“It’s a matter of semantic satiation,” Tottenham told me. “Sometimes I’m sitting in a crowd and I hold my breath until someone says it. Seldom do I die of asphyxiation as a result.”

There’s no arguing with Tottenham’s premise that “awesome” is seen and heard everywhere, from the sign on the tchotchke aisle at the 99-cent store to the lips of supermarket cashiers. UC Santa Barbara linguist Mary Bucholtz says that from its dusky origins, perhaps in 1970s surfer slang, it’s spread to Australia and English-speaking India.

But Tottenham failed to convince me it’s a bad thing. What’s wrong with bathing everything in the sunny light of superlativity? I asked him.

I admire the “awesome” generation’s ability to talk at all with only a few words at its disposal.

The economy of expression is poetic, I argued. The conversations go like this:

Caller 1: Dude?

Caller 2: Dude.

Caller 1: Whadup?

Caller 2: Chillin.

Caller 1: Awesome. Want to kick it?

Caller 2: I’m down.

Caller 1: Now?

Caller 2: Awesome. I’m out.

Caller 1: Peace.

Somewhere, DEA agents are holed up in a hotel room listening to this for hours on end and going out of their minds.

But there’s a subtle genius in language that has been wiped clean of almost all content. Nobody has to risk expressing a real thought or sentiment. Bland affirmation is an impenetrable defense. No one can object. As Syme, the language specialist in charge of shrinking the dictionary in George Orwell’s dystopian novel “1984” put it, “It’s a beautiful thing, the destruction of words.”

Tottenham was having none of it.

“The bogus sense of positivity has a demoralizing effect,” he said. “People resent it if you don’t say you’re doing great.”

Bucholtz, the linguist, pointed out that every generation thinks the next one is wrecking the English language. Tottenham, an old punk rocker who fled dreary old England for the Wild West, gave that point some consideration. But in the end, he rejected it.

“I hated it when I was young, ” Tottenham said. “It is the most irritating word.”

Tottenham said his linguistic cleansing movement has mostly been embraced, at least within “the two-block radius of Echo Park where I am a minor celebrity.” One Stories customer bristled when he tried to get her to honor the awesome ban, though.

“But I’m from California,” she said. “I can’t help it.”

As we chatted, a man in a cowboy shirt came up to congratulate Tottenham on his recent performance of an anti-awesome screed at a local gallery.

“That was awesome,” the man said, grinning widely.

Tottenham smiled back sourly.

“I know I’m setting myself up as a target to be churlishly bombarded by people who use the word to irritate me,” Tottenham said. “People who know about the campaign and want to further express their lack of verbal ingenuity….They do it because they think it’s witty, which it isn’t.”

“But I’m willing to take it on the nose in an honorable cause,” he said.

Tottenham already is looking toward other cliches to conquer.

“Other words will be addressed once we get rid of awesome,” Tottenham promises. “‘It’s all good.’ That’s definitely crying out to be done.”

But as with all social engineering movements, Tottenham has hit unexpected obstacles. As we chatted, we walked to a nearby cafe that had posted his no-awesome sticker in the window. The waitress stopped by to say the restaurant had been forced to take the sign down.

“The staff vetoed it,” she said. “They’re afraid people are going to think the restaurant is not awesome.”

gale.holland@latimes.com

Copyright © 2012, Los Angeles Times

[Blog editor’s note: The title of this blog entry is mine, and is done a bit tongue-in-cheek. I approve this poet’s efforts, as all writers should. Poor and inadequate as they are at times, words are all we have to build our stories, poems, essays, novels, and other word constructs for examining life and who we are. Words are our tools and they deserve our respect.]

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Writer’s Block

Writer’s Block, n.: The place where a writer lives with his/her imaginary friends. Something like the neighborhood of make believe.

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