IS WRITING HARD WORK?

THE JOY OF STORY

John M. Daniel’s Blog

November 21, 2015

Greetings! This week, beginning on the third Saturday in November, I’m pleased to welcome author James R. Callan, who is here to tell us how he finds joy in writing. But first, as usual, a long-winded introduction by yours truly.

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My friend Eileen Obser, a popular writing teacher and editor and the author of the memoir Only You, recently reminded me that one of my brief essays was a repeat from a post that had appeared some time ago on this blog (before my year-long hiatus). It’s true; I admit it. In fact several of my weekly ponderings have been, and will continue to be, retreads, having appeared before on this blog or in the magazine Black Lamb. Some of them are even rewrites of short chapters in my book (now out of print) Structure, Style and Truth: Elements of the Short Story. I first used most of my ideas, advice, and jokes in classes and workshops I taught or led in my teaching days. At some point in the future I plan to assemble all these little essays into a book that I’ll self-publish. I’ll call it (of course) The Joy of Story.

In my teaching days, I presented at a lot of writing conferences. At nearly every one of those conferences, somebody supposedly worth listening to—a teacher, a workshop leader, or a guest celebrity speaker—would tell the assembled writers who had paid money for professional wisdom and advice that writing was mostly heavy labor. Hard, frustrating, lonely work. Blood, sweat, and tears. Not fun. Only a crazy person, a neurotic, an alcoholic, or a glutton for self-punishment would want to be a writer.

My response: Bullll-oney. Sure, writing is work. Of course it is. So is golf, even if you love the game. So is cooking, so is gardening, or painting, or auto mechanics, or woodworking. Or any other pastime that gives you joy. And the more you enjoy it, the harder you work at it, and vice versa.

Writing can be rewarding in terms of fame and fortune, but often it’s not. So what? If you get joy out of writing itself, you’ve already won the game.

What’s to enjoy about writing? I’ll let James R. Callan answer that question. Jim is a prolific writer and a good one.

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THE JOY OF CREATING

by James R. Callan

For most of us, the real reward in writing is the pleasure it gives us when we produce a sentence or paragraph that captures what we feel inside. To a non-writer, this may seem silly. Why would writing a good paragraph make you happy? Or it might seem routine. Doesn’t every paragraph you write make you happy?

 

Over My Dead Body had its genesis in a fight my wife and I had with a company over eminent domain. Keystone wanted to come across our land with their oil pipeline, clear-cutting a swath one hundred and fifty feet wide and a third of a mile long. In the end, they won and the bulldozers came in to push down hundred-foot-tall pine trees, fifty-year-old oaks and large hickories.

I knew right then I would write a book involving the use of eminent domain to seize land by a private, for-profit corporation.

I write murder mysteries. So, I did not write about the Keystone Pipeline because, as far as I know, no one got killed over its construction. Likewise, I didn’t want to directly attack any known entity. As we all know by heart, “All names, characters, places, and events are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is coincidental.”

As time went by and the book began to take shape, I found my displeasure with the pipeline company dissipating and my joy in the book taking over. I used several characters from Cleaned by Fire and it was good to get back in touch with them. Also, I introduced Father Frank’s sister, Maggie, and she made me smile every time she appeared in a scene. A non-writer might find it strange that a character could bring out emotions much like meeting an old friend. But it certainly happens. I had written a suspense book between Cleansed by Fire and this new book, Over My Dead Body. It was good to revisit my friends from the earlier book. And I was very pleased and happy with how Maggie turned out.

Did writing this book give me joy? Absolutely. Were there times when I was frustrated with how the writing was going? Sure. But the over-riding feeling was one of pleasure. I was producing pose that made me happy. Even creating a good “bad guy,” can bring a smile to my face. Developing characters a reader can recognize as real, three-dimensional persons is very rewarding.

So for me, the joy of writing comes from creating sentences and paragraphs that sing in my heart, and creating characters that are real, interesting, and entertaining. I achieved both with Over My Dead Body. I hope the reader will find joy in meeting and getting to know these people, and finding how they deal with the problems they encounter. And when this happens, I get yet another joy from writing.

Over My Dead Body is available on Amazon in paperback and Kindle editions at: http://amzn.to/1BmYQ0Q. The audio version should be available in early 2016.

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 has had four non-fiction books published.  He now concentrates on his favorite genre, mystery/suspense.  His eleventh book is scheduled to release in 2016.

www.jamesrcallan.com

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Call for submissions: Your 99-Word Stories

The deadline for December’s 99-word story submissions is December 1. The stories will appear on my blog post for December 12.

Note: this 99-word story feature is a game, not a contest. Obey the rules and I’ll include your story. I may edit the story to make it stronger, and it’s understood that you will submit to my editing willingly. That’s an unwritten rule.

Rules for the 99-word story feature are as follows:

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 (something or somebody has to change), characters, and conflict.

4. The story must be inspired by the prompt I assign.

5. The deadline: the first of the month. Stories will appear on this blog the second Saturday of the month.

6. I will copy edit the story. The author of the story retains all rights.

7. Email me your story (in the body of your email, or as a Word attachment) to: jmd@danielpublishing.com

THIS MONTH’S PROMPT FOR NEXT MONTH’S 99-WORD STORY:

Write a Christmas (or seasonal) story in 99 words, with the following first line: “I promised my parents I would never tell this to anyone.” If you follow the rules, your story will appear on this blog December 12.

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Thanks for dropping by! See you next week, I hope. Meanwhile, keep reading, keep writing, and work hard at what brings you joy.

The Joyful Writer and His Muse

http://www.danielpublishing.com/jmd/index.html

SINCE WHEN? SINCE WHY?

THE JOY OF STORY

John M. Daniel’s Blog

November 14, 2015

Greetings! This being the second Saturday of the month, I take pleasure in presenting ten 99-word stories sent to me during the month of October. You’ll find them waiting for you below. But first I’d like to say a few words about the word “since.”

My friend Craig sent me an essay by John Crowley, clipped from Harper’s Magazine. The “Easy Chair” essay put forth Crowley’s “crank theory” (his words) that “the human sense of time has its origin in story.” I’m quick to concur, and if it’s a crank theory, call me a crank. Story is made up of a sequence of events, involving a passage of time. A change happens in every story that is a story, and there is a difference between a character before that event and the same character after the event.

But a plot is more complicated than a mere sequence of events. Crowley, quoting E.M. Forster, distinguishes between “story” and “plot,” maintaining that the former can be a mere sequence of events, whereas the latter is more complicated: plot involves not just sequence, but also consequence. He illustrates the point with a simple story, “Boy meets girl and then joins monastery.” That’s a story. But “Boy meets girl, girl spurns boy, and so boy joins monastery” shows a causal relationship between before and after. A change through time, plus a reason for the change.

I have never distinguished “plot” from “story” this way. I say a story, by which I mean the thing a writer toils to create, must have consequence as well as sequence. Semantics, shmemantics. It all can be summed up in the single (or double) word “since.”

Since means after. My new novel, The King’s Eye, has been available since late September.

Since means because. Since I’m proud of this new book of mine, and since I have this opportunity to show it off to you, I have chosen The King’s Eye as this week’s featured book. You’ll find a description of the book below.

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First, though, the 99-word stories. In the ten stories that follow, you’ll find both sequence and consequence. A woman entered a bar, and then the woman left the bar. She left the bar after (since) she entered the bar. But there’s a change: When the woman left the bar she was smiling. Why? Because (since) something happened in the bar that made her smile.

And now, it’s been a long time since I started this meditation, and since I have no more to say on the subject, I turn the floor over to the ten talented writers who contributed to this week’s post.

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Here it is: the monthly 99-word story feature!

For this month’s 99-word story feature, I challenged writers to write a story using the following sentence: “The old woman walked out of the bar with a smile on her face.”

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RUTHIE GETS PICKED UP IN A BAR

by Madelyn Lorber

It was her great-grandson’s birthday celebration, and Ruth knew she had to go, though every ninety-five-year-old bone in her rebelled, and her bed beckoned. She drove to the restaurant.

Fighting skeletal shrinking and osteoporosis, she struggled to climb upon a vacant bar stool.

Gentle hands around her waist lifted her.

“Bartender,” she said, “bring this gallant knight his drink of choice; a Martini for me.”

When her family arrived they registered shock. Ruthie, flirting with a stranger!

As she departed, the young gent kissed her.

Ruth walked out of the bar with a smile on her face.

•••

SENIOR JACKPOT

by Jerry Giammatteo

She nursed her Guinness at the bar and watched the poker game. The men never let her play.

“Some other time, Grandma,” they would say, but never invited her to join.

Tonight, a regular was missing. “This is your chance, Grandma. Want to play? I promise we’ll go easy on you.”

“Thank you, boys,” she said sweetly, sitting down.

Three hours later, she dropped a fifty on the bar from a wad of bills. “A round of stout for these nice boys, please. They’re broke.”

The old woman walked out of the bar with a smile on her face.

•••

WHO WON AT TOMBSTONE?

by Charlotte Painter 

         Heavyset, wearing a thick jacket, she came through the swinging doors and joined the dart game. In five minutes she’d beat hell out of us.

         She sat at the poker table, placing her pistol aside. We watched every move but, man, she had the cards. She cleaned us out; our bucks turned her jacket into armor. The place was buzzing.

         Who the hell was she?

         She stood up, twirled her pistol, said, sorry, she had a date at the OK corral. 

         The old woman walked out of the bar with a smile on her face.

••• 

COME HERE OFTEN?

by Michael J. Quinn

The old woman walked out of the bar with a smile on her face. Her smile came from the acts of her husband, whom she had followed. He had showered, gotten all dressed up, and gone out to the bar. He sat down and ordered his gin and tonic. He looked at the beautiful woman sitting next to him and asked, “So tell me, do I come here often?”

Alzheimers can make spouses smile sometimes. So long as she knew he was safe; and the bartender knew to call her if he left.

She would come back for him later.

•••

PASSING THE BAR

by Pat Shevlin

She found everything she needed at Riordan’s: sustenance, companionship, a hearth, and Bailey, the chocolate lab. It had been her home away from home since her husband’s death, twenty years ago.

Blowing snow carried her small frame through the front door this blustery night. Michael, the bartender, greeted her. “Rosie, you look like you need a hot toddy.”

“Please.” She winked as she claimed her post.

Before leaving, she leaned over and placed an envelope at the register containing a deed naming Michael the new owner.

The old woman walked out of the bar with a smile on her face.

•••

THE ENTERTAINER

by Cathy Mayrides

The bar was full of “the-world-owes-me-a-living” types, determined to drink away their sorrows. One old woman was particularly demoralized. With a sour beer smell and a bartender who couldn’t raise anyone’s spirits, it was simply a gloomy place.

A boy of three approached outside. He looked in and played to the crowd. He danced and smiled, and the patrons stepped up to the window. The boy waved. They waved back.

He left.

So did the bar’s melancholy.

The old woman walked out of the bar with a smile on her face.

•••

FRIDAY NIGHT…AGAIN

by Rita Kushner

The old woman walked out of the bar with a smile on her face. He remained inside, refusing to leave, although she implored him to come home. Others nearby could hear her begging; she smiled in embarrassment.

That night her daughter had phoned. “I can’t leave the kids, Mom. Please drive him home.”

The old woman knew the routine; it would continue for years.

And so it did, until he drunkenly slept through the house fire which consumed him.

Never again did she have to walk out of the bar while her son-in-law kept drinking, a smile on his face.

•••

ANOTHER NIGHT AT O’MALLEY’S

by Eileen Obser

It was just another night at O’Malley’s.

Men and women sat on barstools or stood holding their drinks—talking, laughing, sharing the latest gossip and jokes. Cigarette smoke created a white haze in the air.

One loud, fat man kept cackling above the din. An elderly couple sitting nearby drank in silence, but the woman frowned at the man. When her husband stood to leave, she followed. Removing a party horn from her purse, she blew hard on it, into the fat man’s ear.

The old woman walked out of the bar with a smile on her face.

•••

RED

by Matthew Ryan

The red neon sign fizzles as I enter the dimly lit tavern.

Rudy hits me again. Red sits legs crossed, perched on the barstool.

Like an aging gypsy, Red possesses a unique style. Men eye her porcelain gams.

Red sits poised, cigarette in hand. A coiffed red hive of teased hair, wrists adorned by faux gemstones.

Men ogle Red’s strut from perch to the loo. There’s an audible gasp as Red pees at the urinal. As Red sashays to the door, queries abound. Was that a drag queen?

The old lady exits the bar with a smile on her face.

•••

TRICK OR TREAT

 Debra Benigno

“Have you seen this man?”

The bartender studied the photo the old woman thrust in his face.

“It’s Halloween; everyone’s in costume.”

She ordered a highball and searched the bar. She knew she’d find him.

She spotted a voluptuous Wonder Woman across the room.

He’s got to be close.

Really? A cowboy with a measly bandeau covering his mouth?

She watched him fondle Wonder Woman.

He never noticed the old lady who spiked his drink.

Lying, cheating bastard. She adjusted her shawl and her mask.

The old woman walked out of the bar with a smile on her face.

•••

§§§

AND NOW A WORD FROM OUR SPONSOR

THE KING’S EYE

A Fantasy of the Farther Isles

by John M. Daniel

The King’s Eye is available on Kindle, Nook, and wherever else ebooks are sold.

The kings and queens of the Farther Isles have gathered at the castle of High King Rohar, as they do every year on the Summer Solstice, to pledge their loyalty. But before the ceremony is over, the Giant Clobber from the Isle of the South Wind storms into the Great Hall, steals the High King’s crystal left eye right out of its socket, then disappears into the night. 



The outraged High King offers to reward anyone who will slay the Giant and bring back the crystal eye. The reward: half of Rohar’s kingdom and the hand of his daughter, Llanaa, in marriage.

The only one to stand up to the challenge is Prince Frogge, a twelve-year-old boy from the Isle of Fens. 

Frogge finds a partner, Rodney Trapper, the goatherd’s son—tall, strong, and seventeen—and together the lads set out on their quest: to sail to the Isle of South Wind and do battle with the Giant Clobber in the Meadow of Mayhem. It’s a fight no one believes they can win.

Their adventures take a full year, during which they travel from Isle to Farther Isle, in a boat that sails itself, guided mysteriously by the Stars. 

The King's Eye is a story romantic and magical, full of love and death, heroes and scoundrels, bravery and cowardice, danger and high hopes. This tale will delight anyone old enough to read and young enough to believe that a goatherd's son could win the heart of a princess.

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Call for submissions: Your 99-Word Stories

The deadline for December’s 99-word story submissions is December 1. The stories will appear on my blog post for December 12.

note: this 99-word story feature is a game, not a contest. Obey the rules and I’ll include your story. I may edit the story to make it stronger, and it’s understood that you will submit to my editing willingly. That’s an unwritten rule.

Rules for the 99-word story feature are as follows:

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 (something or somebody has to change), characters, and conflict.

4. The story must be inspired by the prompt I assign.

5. The deadline: the first of the month. Stories will appear on this blog the second Saturday of the month.

6. I will copy edit the story. The author of the story retains all rights.

7. Email me your story (in the body of your email, or as a Word attachment) to: jmd@danielpublishing.com

THIS MONTH’S PROMPT FOR NEXT MONTH’S 99-WORD STORY:

Write a Christmas (or seasonal) story in 99 words, with the following first line: “I promised my parents I would never tell this to anyone.” If you follow the rules, your story will appear on this blog December 12.

§§§

Thanks for dropping by! See you next week, I hope. Next week I’ll be showcasing a guest post by novelist James Callan.

Meanwhile, keep reading, keep writing, and continue to enjoy the Joy of Story!

http://www.danielpublishing.com/jmd/index.html

MEMORY PLAYS TRICKS ON US. WE WRITERS PLAY ALONG.

THE JOY OF STORY

John M. Daniel’s Blog

November 7, 2015

Greetings! This being the first Saturday of the month, it’s time to give you writers a new prompt for the 99-Word Story feature. Here it is: Write a Christmas (or seasonal) story in 99 words, with the following first line: “I promised my parents I would never tell this to anyone.” What you write can be inspired by a memory or fabricated from imagination, or both, but tell it as a story. Further details on this exercise (rules, deadlines, etc.) appear at the end of this blog post. Remember, this monthly feature is not a contest. Follow the rules, and your story will be posted.

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News: I'm pleased to say Oak Tree Press, which published my novels Behind the Redwood Door and Hooperman, has listed me as one of the freelance editors they recommend to their authors. Take a  look: http://www.oaktreebooks.com/About_editors.html

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This week’s blog is about memory. My essay illustrates how clearly we remember our past, and how sometimes what we’re sure of is sure wrong.

This week’s featured book is also about memory. Painted Pebbles, by Peter Stangl, is a memoir about the author’s Hungarian childhood during the Nazi occupation, and his youth under Soviet domination, and his hair-raising escape to the West.

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You and Your Siblings Had Different Parents

Over the years I spent teaching life-story-writing classes, I stressed the importance of leaving behind a written record of our times, our choices, our changes, and what we have learned from our successes and failures, our good calls and our mistakes. I wish, and my students have agreed with me, that my own parents, grandparents, and ancestors from generations past had left me books and stories full of their memories of their lives and times.

Speaking of mistakes, though, let me tell you about a mistake I made a few months ago. That month’s issue of Black Lamb had an essay by me about my father, a man I never knew, because he died when I was two years and one day old. I told of the many fine things I had learned about my father, from friends and family members who knew him well. I also mentioned that he was occasionally beset by lengthy stretches of melancholy, which my mother called his “Welsh moods.”

I made the mistake of sending a tear-sheet of the article to my older brother, who knew our father well, because my brother was fifteen when our father died. So well does my brother remember our father that he wrote back and corrected me. Apparently our father was not moody, but was always cheerful.

My mistake was not that I got my facts wrong. Maybe I was mistaken about my father’s alleged moodiness, but I was only reporting what I had heard. My mistake was not that I chose to include dark news when I talked about my father; as writers we’re supposed to explore the dark side, just as we’re expected to celebrate the bright. My mistake was to send this essay to my brother. What was I thinking? I should have suspected that he would be disturbed to read that his hero might occasionally have been gloomy.

The lesson I learned from this mistake: choose your audience. And remember, happily, that memory is a creative, inaccurate record. If you have siblings and you write about your parents, the chances are your memories will not match theirs. No two or more siblings remember the same parents.

In the same vein, don’t go to a high school or college reunion expecting to share memories with people who were once you closest friends. Chances are they will remember the moments quite differently, or not at all. Expect them to tell tales about you, with events that never happened, you think…

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AND NOW A WORD FROM OUR SPONSOR

Recently published by Daniel & Daniel, Publishers

An eye-witness account of watershed moments in modern European history

In 1983 librarian Peter Stangl took his teenaged son and daughter to Budapest, to show them the city and the land where he had grown up. During that visit, he briefly held in his hand a few pebbles his mother had painted when Peter was a boy. This small moment stirred up strong memories that needed to be told.…

“Peter Stangl describes a series of historic events in Hungary which most of us viewed from a distance with fear and awe. It is a book about the indomitability of the human spirit, about family, and about a remarkable father-son relationship which enabled the author to persevere through an extraordinarily difficult period in Hungarian history.”

—Robert J. Birgeneau, Professor of Physics, UC Berkeley

“Painted Pebbles is living testimony that it’s not the events in our lives that determine our fate, but the choices we make about how we come to those events. This book will inspire you to dare to imagine that what you dream is actually possible.”

—Carl Hammerschlag M.D., author of The Dancing Healers and The Theft of the Spirit

“Peter Stangl’s memoir of growing up in Nazi-held Budapest and his harrowing escape to America after the 1956 Soviet invasion is told with grace, vivid details, humor, and suspense.”

—Mel  Matsumoto,  Executive Director and CEO, Channing House

 “Peter Stangl took his children back to his family’s apartment in Budapest, now occupied by others. Stangl had grown up there Jewish during the Holocaust. This story of remembrance and discovery is taut, tense, and tragic. It is also uplifting.”

—J. Myron Atkin, Prof. Emeritus and former Dean

Graduate School of Education, Stanford University

Peter Stangl was born in Budapest into a Jewish family. As a child he survived WWII, lost his mother in the Holocaust, was hidden from the Nazis, and witnessed Budapest’s liberation by the Soviets. During the 1956 Hungarian uprising he escaped to the U.S. After graduating from Yale, he earned a degree in library science and worked at the Yale Medical Library. In 1971 he became Director of Lane Library at the Stanford University School of Medicine. Now retired, he lives in Palo Alto, California.

To read more about Painted Pebbles, see http://www.danielpublishing.com/bro/stangl.html

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Call for submissions: Your 99-Word Stories

The deadline for December’s 99-word story submissions is December 1. The stories will appear on my blog post for December 12.

note: this 99-word story feature is a game, not a contest. Obey the rules and I’ll include your story. I may edit the story to make it stronger, and it’s understood that you will submit to my editing willingly. That’s an unwritten rule.

Rules for the 99-word story feature are as follows:

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 (something or somebody has to change), characters, and conflict.

4. The story must be inspired by the prompt I assign.

5. The deadline: the first of the month. Stories will appear on this blog the second Saturday of the month.

6. I will copy edit the story. The author of the story retains all rights.

7. Email me your story (in the body of your email, or as a Word attachment) to: jmd@danielpublishing.com

THIS MONTH’S PROMPT FOR NEXT MONTH’S 99-WORD STORY:

Write a Christmas (or seasonal) story in 99 words, with the following first line: “I promised my parents I would never tell this to anyone.” If you follow the rules, your story will appear on this blog December 12.

§§§

Thanks for dropping by! See you next week, I hope. Next week I’ll be showcasing 99-word stories submitted during the month of October. Meanwhile, keep writing, reading, and celebrating the Joy of Story!

http://www.danielpublishing.com/jmd/index.html