Dear Friends and fellow writers,
This blog, The Joy of Story, is taking the rest of the year off. I'll be back Saturday, January 4. Until then…
I wish you all a Happy Solstice, welcoming back the warming sun.
May you all have a Merry Yuletide, however you choose to celebrate.
And may your New Year's Resolutions include a promise to keep writing as much and as well as you can. That way you'll surely find pleasure and success in the joyful art of storytelling.
John M. Daniel
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Saturday, December 14, 2013
James R. Callan Finds Joy in Writing
This week I am especially
pleased to have as my guest James R. Callan, a talented and successful writer who,
as you’ll read below, takes great joy in his writing. He also takes pleasure in
supporting other writers, a whole posse of them, acting as coordinator and host
for spreading news and views via email and blog posts. Let’s hear what Jim has
to say about the joy of writing.
The joy of writing for me is
twofold.
When
I write a paragraph or scene that can bring tears to my eyes or cause me to
laugh out loud, even when I read it for the tenth or fifteenth time, then I not
only know why I sit and write, but I know the true joy of writing. I can know I have created a work of
art. No, it’s not a painting. It’s not a sculpture, nor a piece of
music. But it is art as surely as
a Monet is, or a variation by Rachmaninoff is. It has stirred an emotion which is greater than the actual
piece itself.
It
brings to mind a quote from a play by Edmond Rostand, written in 1897. The play is Cyrano de Bergerac. The play is based on a real Cyrano de Bergerac. In the play,
Cyrano is a character bigger than life.
He is an incredible swordsman, soldier, friend, and writer. In the play, the Count De Guiche’s
tells Cyrano he could garner the favor of some higher official and profit
financially from his writing. Cyrano replies, “When I have made a line that
sings itself, so that I love the sound of it, I pay myself a hundred times.”
Cyrano knew the joy of writing.
The
finished written word should be the real joy of writing.
The
second part is the satisfaction of creating a plot and characters that work
together, that blend smoothly, that give the reader great satisfaction when
finished with the book. It is not sufficient to have a great plot or to have
great characters. You need those
two parts to fit so well that a reader will not be able to think of one without
the other. You have created a
project that is as smooth and finished as Michelangelo’s statue of David.
Neither
of these two parts is easy to achieve.
But then, the struggle to produce the paragraph, the scene, the polished
book makes the joy of success even more intense. And when I achieve one or both of these, I have found the
true joy of writing and I do, indeed, pay myself a hundred times.
I have no doubt that James
R. Callan took great joy from the writing of his newest success:
A Ton of Gold
A contemporary suspense
novel
Can
long forgotten, old folk tales affect the lives of people today? In A Ton
of Gold, one certainly affected young, brilliant Crystal Moore. Two people are killed, others
threatened, a house burned and an office fire-bombed – all because of an old
folk tale, greed and ignorance.
On
top of that, the man who nearly destroyed Crystal emotionally is coming
back. This time he can put an end
to her career. She’ll need all the
help she can get from a former bull rider, her streetwise housemate and her
feisty 76-year-old grandmother.
That sounds great, doesn’t
it? Check out this excerpt:
Chapter 2
Crystal Moore’s eyes shot
wide open and she sat bolt upright. Disconnected pictures, all bleak, flashed
in Crystal’s mind, as a chill descended over her. “Tried to kill you!” Her
voice almost failed her. Her chest felt like something was crushing it. She
could feel her blood pulsing in her veins. “Are you Okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Where are you?”
“Home. Where else would I
be?”
In the hospital. “What happened?”
“Some fool tried to run me
off the road.”
Crystal’s back relaxed
slightly. "Nana, I don’t think he was trying to kill you."
"Were you here?"
Crystal reminded herself
that this was her grandmother, her only living relative. "Okay. Tell me
what happened."
"Well, I was going to
town. And some redneck tried to run me off the road. Clear as could be. Meant
to kill me!"
Crystal rolled her eyes
toward the ceiling. She worried about her grandmother driving, or living alone,
for that matter. At seventy-six, reactions slowed. Maybe her grandmother
shouldn't be driving at all.
"Every week somebody
tries to run me off the road while I'm driving to work. He just wasn't paying
attention, that's all."
"That dog won't hunt! I
was paying attention. I saw him. He looked right at me, then pulled over in my
lane. I could see it in his eyes. He intended to run me right off the road—or
hit me head-on. He cotton-pickin' meant to kill me."
"Did you call the
police?"
"What for? They'd give
me the same routine you are."
Crystal took a deep breath
and let it out slowly. "What do you want me to do, Nana?"
"Nothing. Nothing you
can do."
Crystal struggled to keep
her voice as neutral as possible. She dearly loved her grandmother but Nana
could be difficult sometimes. She saw the world very clearly, with seldom a
doubt on how to interpret it. "Then why did you call me? Just to worry
me?"
"No.” Crystal detected
a trace of hurt feelings in her grandmother’s voice. "Because I wanted you
to know somebody's trying to kill me. And if I die under questionable
circumstances, I want you to tell the police it was murder. And make
sure they do something. You know how old Billy Goat is. If you don't
stick his nose in it, he can't find—"
"Nana!” Crystal cut her
off. "Bill Glothe's been the sheriff for ten years——and your friend a lot
longer than that."
"Ugly truck. One of
those, ah, what-cha-ma-callits. Ah, four-by-fours. Big as a dump truck.
Puce."
"Puce? They don't make
puce-colored cars."
"Well, maybe he painted
it, I don't know. Looked puce to me."
"Are you Okay? Is there
anything I can do for you?"
"Yes and no. I'm fine
and there's nothing you can do. Just remember what I told you. Anything
happens, get Billy Goat on it."
A Ton of Gold
By
James R. Callan
From
Oak Tree Press, 2013
Brief Bio of James R. Callan
After
a successful career in mathematics and computer science, receiving grants from
the National Science Foundation and NASA, and being listed in Who’s Who in Computer Science and Two Thousand Notable Americans, James R.
Callan turned to his first love—writing.
He wrote a monthly column for a national magazine for two years, and published
several non-fiction books. He now
concentrates on his favorite genre, mysteries, with his sixth book releasing in
Spring, 2014.
Amazon
Author page: http://amzn.to/1eeykvG
Twitter: @jamesrcallan
Saturday, December 7, 2013
THANKS FOR THE GIFT…I GUESS…
Greetings, readers and writers! And Happy New Year! May auld
acquaintance be remembered and turned into great stories.
This week, as I do on each first Saturday of the month, I present
99-word stories sent to me by writers from all over. That includes you, I hope.
All writers are welcome, and all submissions will be accepted (unless I find a
story offensive, but I’m broad-minded.) There are a few rules to follow, and
they’re presented at the end of this post.
This month’s theme is “The Gift,” and I urged contributors to include
irony in their stories. I received three stories answering the challenge, and
they’re presented below.
Because there are only three stories this month, I have some extra space
to fill, and so I’m going to insert here a commercial!
Looking for an entertaining book to put on your New Year’s reading list?
I not-so-humbly recommend Hooperman:A
Bookstore Mystery. Yes, I wrote it, and yes, you’ll like it! Publishers Weekly says (in a starred
review!): “Pleasant and
unusually good-natured, this novel from Daniel harkens back to a time when
printed books mattered.” For more information about Hooperman:A Bookstore Mystery, see http://www.danielpublishing.com/jmd/hooperman.html
And now, as promised, here are three stories contributed by writers of
the 99 Society.
•••
GRAB BAG BIZARRO
by Jerry Giammatteo
It was our annual Holiday grab bag at the office. Three items remained
when my name was picked. I selected the largest package and opened it.
I stared at it. What was it? It looked like an ugly bed quilt with a
pocket. Obviously, a re-gift or something buried deep in someone’s closet.
“What is it?” somebody shouted out. I shrugged.
I brought it home. My wife asked what it was. I shrugged again
The ratty thing is long gone, but we found a use for it as a beach
blanket. It was hideous, yet it served a purpose.
•••
GRANDPA’S GIFTS
by Joseph M.
Bonelli
Christmas Eve
dinner was tradition at my paternal grandparent’s home.
Grandpa was
thought to have more wealth than people knew.
He hinted about
gifts to Dad, who alerted his three sons.
Mom said, “Don’t
expect too much.”
After dinner Grandpa
passed an envelope to each of us and wanted my father to open his first. A
penny was taped inside Dad’s Christmas card.
I had two
pennies; the middle grandchild had three, and the youngest, four cents.
My grandfather
left the room and returned with a bowed hanger, bearing a new fur coat for Mom,
his daughter-in-law.
“Merry
Christmas.”
•••
A GIFT FOR CHRISTMAS
by Christine Viscuso
Dr. Berman
removed his mask as he stepped from the operating theatre. “Detective. What are
you doing here?”
“Waiting
for you. How is he?”
“He’ll
live.”
“It took you
fifteen hours to save that crumb’s life. You gave him life for Christmas. He
killed twenty-five kids, plus ten adults. He killed a cop before trying to end
his miserable life. We’ll take it back; bet on it.”
The doctor
shrugged. “It’s not for me to decide. I took an oath.”
“To you,
making people whole is a challenge. Were you aware that your son died in that
carnage?”
•••
Attention all
writers—
Next month’s
prompt: “They’re Gone!” What do I mean by those two words? You tell me. No. You
show me in a story. I insist that
your story be fiction, and you show me that you have a wild imagination!
Here are the
rules:
1. Your story
must be 99 words long, exactly.
2. One story
per writer, per month.
3. The story
must be a story. That means it needs plot, characters, and conflict.
4. The
deadline: the first of the month.
5. Email me
your story (in the body of your email, or as a Word attachment) to: jmd@danielpublishing.com
One more
request. This time, whether or not you send me a story, please send me one (1)
word. Any word. I’m collecting words, your words, for next month’s assignment.
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