Saturday, October 10, 2015

This week's blog post: Willikins Rex, and What Makes a Story

THE JOY OF STORY
John M. Daniel’s Blog
October 10, 2015



Greetings! My big news this week is that my newest novel, The King’s Eye, has just been published as an ebook! It’s a fantasy novel—my first in that genre, and it was a joy to write, or to watch it write itself before my eyes and fingertips. I don’t know if it’s widely available as an ebook yet, but it’s available to buy on Kindle. (Yes, I now have a Kindle. I love it!) For more information about this sparkling tale of gruesome giants, proud princesses, handsome heroes, cruel cads, and wise witches, see: http://www.danielpublishing.com/jmd/king's_eye.html.


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Today is the second Saturday in October. Beginning on November 14, the second Saturday of each month will feature 99-word stories contributed by writers who read and enjoy this blog and want to be “published.” More details about this feature (rules, this month’s prompt, and deadline) appear at the end of this blog post.

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Now, on with the blog. The following essay is from the archives of Black Lamb, a literary magazine I contribute to monthly:

Willikins Rex

During the summer of 1961 I worked for an antiquarian bookstore in Dallas. While I was there the store acquired a Book of Common Prayer inscribed by Caroline of Brunswick to her ward, William Austin, dated Christmas 1805, Montague House, Blackheath. The store manager sent me downtown to the public library to research these people in order to put a price on this book.

What I uncovered allowed us to charge $100, which was cheap, I thought. A hundred bucks bought a lot of book back then, but this one had a royal signature and included a special prayer for the King’s health, which was touch and go at the time, to the grief of his adoring subjects and the annoyance of his heir, who was impatient for the old man to get on with the business of dying.

Who were these people? The King was George III, who had lost his American colonies in 1776 and who was now mad as a hatter. The heir was George, Prince of Wales, the promiscuous, over-eating scoundrel who would eventually become Prince Regent and finally King George IV. Caroline Amelia Elizabeth of Brunswick was the Prince’s first cousin as well as his wife, and the person he hated most in all the world. William Austin was Caroline’s darling child, whom she adopted in 1802, when he was three months old. Little “Willikins” lived and traveled with Princess Caroline until she died in 1821.

To read the rest of this article, visit:
To learn about Black Lamb, visit their website: http://www.blacklamb.org


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The following exercise in the Key of C is from my collection of short essays on the craft of writing fiction and the Joy of Story, to be published when I get around to it:

WHAT MAKES A STORY?
An Etude in the Key of C


I took [the letter] up, and held it in my hand. I was a trembling, because I'd got to decide, forever, betwixt two things, and I knowed it. I studied a minute, sort of holding my breath, and then says to myself:
“All right, then, I'll go to hell”—and tore it up.
It was awful thoughts, and awful words, but they was said. And I let them stay said; and never thought no more about reforming.

                                                      —Huck

Rust Hills, the former fiction editor of Esquire, summed it up thus: “Something happens to someone.” That’s it. Plot (something happens) and character (to someone). For extra credit, add “somewhere,” as in “something happens to someone somewhere”; but although highly recommended, scene is optional.

Okay, but what happens? Here’s what: change. Our someone is, at the end of the story, a different person from the one who she or he was at the beginning.

How does that come about? It could be because of chance, or an outside agent (a trolley runs over his foot, as a result of which he will never tap dance again); but more often, and more interesting, than not, it’s because the character has made a choice. As the old hymn tells us, “Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide.” That “once” is what the best stories are about: choice.

The choice arises from a conflict. Remember this: no conflict, no story. Conflict resolution, which can sometimes take a long time and comes in many forms, is what results in choice, the consequence of which is change. And by the way, the conflict is often the outcome of a crisis of conscience, and results in a shift in the balance of power.

Yes, the choice itself has a consequence. The change, yes, we talked about that. But maybe a greater change. The moral center of gravity may have shifted. To make our story important, make that choice important, consequential. Write about what matters. Write about the human condition. In other words, write about love and death. Those are the two ingredients of any great story.

This critical moment of change, this catharsis, for reasons as old as the creative process, the recreative process, and even the procreative process, usually happens at the climax of the story.

If you don’t believe me, ask Huck Finn.

As we write our stories, let us remember these ingredients, listed here in alphabetical order: Catharasis, Center of Gravity, Chance, Change, Character, Choice, Climax, Condition (human), Conflict, Conscience, Consequence, Creative Process, Crisis, Critical Moment…and I’m sure I’ve forgotten a few…

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AND NOW A WORD FROM OUR SPONSOR
New from Daniel & Daniel, Publishers

Sam Western is one of the finest writers in the American West, and his new novel Canyons damn well confirms it.”
Craig Johnson, author of the Walt Longmire Mysteries


Ward Fall is a Wyoming rancher, a man with three young sons and a supportive wife, Lorraine. Eric Lindsay is a reclusive musician and songwriter in Los Angeles. In college, their friendship turned ugly in an instant when a hunting accident traumatized both men. Now, 25 years later, Ward invites Eric to join him at a hunting camp in Wyoming’s Bighorn Mountains. Although fearful of the reunion’s dark potential, Lorraine encourages the trip, knowing Ward must confront his demons. Into the mountains the men go, one wanting atonement, the other revenge.





“Brief, like life, this is a book long enough to hazard comparisons to Turgenev, with a rawboned sentiment natural to the Far West.”
—Thomas McIntyre, author of The Snow Leopard’s Tale

"It’s no surprise Sam Western is a poet. There are lines you’ll reread here simply for their beauty. But you don’t want to miss the intelligence behind the beauty, or miss the surprising depth of the story itself. These are lives you’ll want to live."
—Pete Fromm, author of As Cool as I Am, Indian Creek Chronicles

To read more about Canyons, visit http://www.danielpublishing.com/bro/western02.html
To read more about Samuel Western, visit http://www.samuelwestern.com

Note: if the links given above don't work, paste the URLs into the search line of your browser.


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To learn more about John M. Daniel and his books, visit http://www.danielpublishing.com/jmd/index.html

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And now, as promised:

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:
Use the following sentence as either the first or the last sentence of the story:
“The old woman walked out of the bar with a smile on her face.”
Deadline: November 1, 2015.
If you follow the rules, your story will appear on this blog November 14.

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Mark your calendar: Next week’s blog (October 17) will feature a guest post by historical novelist John Lindermuth. John will be probing the recurring conflict between perception of guilt and presumption of innocence. This dilemma is at stake in John’s new historical crime novel, Something So Divine.

Saturday, October 3, 2015

THE JOY OF STORY
John M. Daniel’s Blog
October 3, 2015



Greetings! Welcome to my blog, which I call The Joy of Story. If you’ve been a follower of this blog in the past, you’re probably aware that I took a sabbatical for a year and a half and let the blog wait in the wings. Now I’m back, and I hope once again to make this blog a weekly habit, with a new post every Saturday (except for weeks when I’m traveling or otherwise too occupied to write a coherent post, which won’t be often.)

Don’t worry. The following introduction will not appear every week.

The format of this blog: Each Saturday I will post a small bit of creative writing by me. It will be a brief, entertaining essay on the subject of writing, or an essay originally written for the magazine Black Lamb, or a 99-word story, or a book review. I plan to have each of these features appear every month.

On the third Saturday of each month we will have a post by a guest writer. This is a chance to read what other writers think about writing. This is also a chance for the guest writer to plug a book of her or his own, although the primary subject of each post must have something to do with the theme of this blog, The Joy of Story. If you’re interested in being a guest writer on my blog, get in touch with me by email at jmd@danielpublishing.com.

The second Saturday of the month will feature 99-word stories contributed by writers who read and enjoy this blog and want to be “published.” 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

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THIS MONTH’S PROMPT FOR NEXT MONTH’S 99-WORD STORY
Use the following sentence as either the first or the last sentence of the story:
“The old woman walked out of the bar with a smile on her face.”
Deadline: November 1, 2015.
If you follow the rules, your story will appear on this blog November 14.

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Now, on with the blog.

THE OLDEST ART: AN INTRODUCTION TO THE JOY OF STORY
by John M. Daniel

NOTE: This essay was first published in Black Lamb.

The oldest art form in human culture is the story. I am the veteran of several arguments on this topic with would-be anthropologists who claim the title for dance, music, cave paintings, and double-entry bookkeeping. But I stick to my guns: the story got there first.
        
I date the beginning of human culture by the beginning of human spoken communication. I’m talking about speech that transcends snarls of anger, grunts of lust, and screams of fear. I say human culture began with sentences at least as complex as “You going to eat the rest of that haunch of ibex, or what?” Conversation.
        
Knowing human beings as I do, I’m willing to bet my wallet that as soon as our ancestors learned to communicate with each other by speech, they started developing skills to entertain, impress, and hoodwink each other. Since truth wasn’t always up to the task (it isn’t today, so why should it have been for cave folk?), the act of embellishment was discovered, and fiction was born.
        
Of course story doesn’t have to be fiction. But isn’t it, usually? Ask most memoirists today, and they’ll agree that a certain amount of “editing” is involved.
        
So return with me now to the Primal Circle, a bunch of human beings (with some Neanderthal DNA in the mix, although polite cave folk don’t talk about how it got there) gathered together around a campfire after a hard day of hunting.
        
They talk:

         “Good gnus, Murray,” says the Boss, an ancient woman in her fortieth year. “How’d you manage to kill two in the same day?”
         Murray swallowed his bite of barbecued gnu, wiped his beard, took a swig of banana beer, belched, and began to spin his yarn. “Well, see, I was walking down by the Muchmuck River, talking to my friend Cedric, the African Grey parrot who knows stuff, and he told me that on the other side of the Muchmuck was a plain called the Banana Savanna, where I would find some gnus. I guess I was busy listening to Cedric, and not watching where I was going, and I tripped over a log and fell right into what passes for water in the Muchmuck river. I stood up, sputtering and listening to my parrot so-called friend laughing at me, when the log sprouted stubby arms and legs, swished an armored tail, opened a grin full of razor-sharp stalactites and stalagmites, and slithered into the water. Well, I took off with the current, going like gangbusters, but I could hear the splash of that croc getting closer and closer to my feet. If it hadn’t have been for Cedric dive-bombing the river-lizard, why—”
         “Aw baloney,” said Hugo, a burly fellow who looked like a cross between Burt Reynolds and a Rottweiler. “Not how it happened at all.”
         “Shut up, Hugo,” said several cave folk, using different combinations of words, some of which we don’t have anymore, and others I don’t dare repeat.
         “But we all crossed Muchmuck River on that log,” Hugo insisted. “There wasn’t any crocodile. And what’s more—”
         The Boss spoke. “Let Murray tell it.”
         “Why?” Hugo demanded. “I was the one who brought back the gnus, not Murray.”
         “Murray tells it better,” the Boss said.
        
Ever since Murray recounted the hunts each evening to his fellow cave folk, the subtleties of storytelling have been honed and practiced and have entertained and enlightened listeners and readers. Many of the rules and tools of fiction were discovered and developed by the earliest of storytellers. And one aspect of the art form remains to this day: whoever tells the best story gets the most attention.

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AND NOW A WORD FROM OUR SPONSOR
This is another weekly feature I forgot to mention above. It pays the bills.

He’s a high-rolling Texan with blue-collar roots. She’s a Dallas former debutante and swimming champion. They love each other, as long as he’s saving her life. Can this marriage be saved?
 
D. Ray and Cissy Ramsey have come to Mexico to save their marriage. It wasn’t their first mistake. It won’t be their last. But it will be their most dangerous....
 
 
Set in the Yucatan Peninsula, Swimming in the Deep End is a fast-paced, witty novel of romantic intrigue that takes the reader on a tour of ancient and modern Mayaland, from the glamorous resort hotels of Cancun to the bustling capital of Merida, to the ruins of Cobá, Uxmal, Chitzen Itza, and Palenque to the remote beaches and cenotes of southern Quintana Roo, to the dazzling pools and treacherous waterfalls of Agua Azul.

Swimming in the Deep End is available as an ebook only. To read more about this riveting romantic suspense story, visit http://www.danielpublishing.com/jmd/swimming.html

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To learn more about John M. Daniel and his books, visit http://www.danielpublishing.com/jmd/index.html





Saturday, September 5, 2015

COMING SOON TO A BLOG NEAR YOU...

GREETINGS friends, readers, and fellow writers. It's been almost a year and a half since I last posted an entry on this, my blog, The Joy of Story. I'm writing now to let you know I'll be returning soon. I have new ideas for my blog. I plan to post at least once a month, but perhaps more often, given enough time. Here's what I expect to include monthly:

• A review of a book I've recently read or I'm in the middle of.
• A guest post by a fellow writer, allowing that writer to plug a book, new or old.
• A brief, entertaining, and opinionated essay on the craft of writing stories.
• A 99-word story by me.
• A writing prompt, inviting other writers (you!) to send me 99-word stories, which will be included in the following month's post, if they follow the rules.

Other occasional features:

• Humorous poems by my father, who died when I was two years old.
• Short essays reprinted from Black Lamb, a literary mag I contribute to monthly.
• Reviews of books recently published by my publishing company, Daniel & Daniel.

So please stay tuned!

I expect, if all goes according to schedule, to be back on the first Saturday in October. If you want a personal reminder when the time comes, send me an email at jmd@danielpublishing.com.

Till then, keep writing, and take pleasure in the Joy of Story!



Sunday, April 27, 2014

The King's Eye, a novel of the Farther Isles

For the past year I've been spending most of my Sundays in a land of my own invention. Sunday is my day of writing, and my writing lately has taken me to an archipelago called the Alliance of Farther Isles, made up of fourteen island kingdoms. As I've found out during all these magical Sundays, almost anything can happen in the Farther Isles. What happens there is up to the whimsy and the wisdom of the Stars. There are beautiful princesses and dastardly princes, a Stargazer on one island and a Crystal Carver on another, a community of wild goats longing for a goatherd on the largest island, and falling in love is the national pastime on the Isle of Arrows .

Sometimes during the past year I nearly got lost and almost got stuck in this faraway land made mostly of sea. What if I were to wake up Monday morning and find myself living forever on one of the Farther Isles? I suppose I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my days on the Isle of Song, or the rest of my nights on the Island of the Stars, but I wouldn't want to spend my forever after on the cold and drizzly Isle of Fens, or—Stars forbid—on the Isle of the South Wind, living among the little runts and subject to the cruelty of the reigning, rotten-breathing Giant Clobber!

Now that I've finished writing my novel, The King's Eye, I feel a bit lost sitting in my office on Sundays, staring at the blank computer screen, homesick for the Farther Isles. I wonder if I'll ever go back there.


THE KING’S EYE
a novel of the Farther Isles
by John M. Daniel


Brief Synopsis

The kings and queens of the Farther Isles have gathered at the castle of High King Rohar, as they do every year on the 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 High King offers to reward anyone who will slay the Giant and bring back the crystal eye. The reward: half of Rohar’s island 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 the South Wind and to 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 by 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.




Saturday, April 19, 2014

JOHN LINDERMUTH STANDS UP FOR THE BAD GUYS

I take great pleasure in welcoming back to my blog a writer I much admire, J. R. Lindermuth. As usual, I asked John to write something about the joy of story, and he has done so by exploring the dark side of plot. Read what he has to say about the characters we love to hate.

VILLAINS GET A BAD RAP

You may not want one for a neighbor. But you can’t have a crime novel without a villain. In a novel, a villain is the opposite of the hero. His main purpose is to provide conflict, which is the driving force of story. The villain must be as fully developed as the hero. The most important aspects of creating a villain are that they be realistic and properly motivated.
Human beings are complicated creatures. None are entirely good or evil. Not all villains are sociopaths or psychopaths. Some are simply driven into that situation by circumstance. And they come in both sexes.
Though we may not condone a villain’s actions, it’s important the reader understand and even sympathize to a degree with the motivation. For instance, we all have financial needs and can understand how a person might desire to improve his/her situation—even if we don’t condone the method. We’ve all experienced fear, jealousy, anger, sexual desire, wanting to even the score—the list goes on and on. These are all motivations a writer can utilize to create a memorable villain.

For A Burning Desire I created two villains. I don’t want to give too much away here, but arson is a factor in both their lives. Arson is a heinous crime, which can have more than one motivation. In the case of this novel, the motivation of one villain ignites (okay, bad pun) that of the other.
As usual for the Sticks Hetrick series, A Burning Desire is set in the rural community of Swatara Creek, near Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. The past comes back to haunt former police chief Daniel “Sticks” Hetrick and his protégé, Officer Flora Vastine, as an outbreak of arson shakes residents of Swatara Creek. Initially, authorities view the minor nature of the fires as pranks, possibly the work of thrill-seeking juveniles. Tension increases in the wake of a murder at the site of one fire and an increase in the value of targets.
Hetrick and Flora must confront troubling, dangerous people from the past, and errors in judgment add to their jeopardy.


Sounds like a great book, and what a hot cover! (I can do puns too.) Here, to further whet your appetite, is an excerpt from A Burning Desire:

Flora Vastine tugged back the curtain and peered out into the dark yard. As her eyes adjusted, she detected movement near the back fence. It seemed she’d just drifted off to sleep when Change, her dog, roused her. Housebroken, the dog was usually good for the night after a final run in the yard before bed and it was obviously not a need for relief that disturbed her. Change had gone directly to the window facing the yard and set to whining and growling low in her throat.
     Raccoon and opossum occasionally got into the trash, but Flora thought it was something larger lurking by the fence. Deer had got into her dad’s garden last summer. Was there anything big enough to attract them now? It was too dark to tell from here. Barefoot and clad in shortie pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, Flora padded downstairs, trailed by the dog. She didn’t want to wake her father and shooshed Change when she left out a throaty woof.
     Retrieving her sidearm from the lock box in the hall closet, Flora made her way to the kitchen and glanced out the window over the sink. Nothing. Had she just imagined it? But, no, Change hadn’t been disturbed by something in her imagination. There was something out there. Slipping into a pair of flip-flops she kept here in case of need, Flora unlocked and slowly opened the door. Before Flora could stop her, Change slid between her legs and bolted out into the yard.
     Flora flicked on the outside light and, weapon at the ready, followed.
     June bugs darted in the sudden light and spring peepers shrilled in the distance. The warm air was fragrant with the scent of damp grass and her father’s ripening strawberry plants. Change had disappeared into the gloom beyond the perimeter of light from the back porch. Cautiously, Flora made her way down the yard. Dew-wet tendrils of grass trailed against her ankles and feet.
     Flora came to the end of the yard. Despite the gloom under the heavily-leafed old apple tree she saw the trash cans were undisturbed. But the gate leading into the alley stood open. Flora stepped through the opening and looked up and down the street. A sudden noise to her left, and she turned. Nearly a block away an engine rumbled and she saw the glow of taillights as a vehicle pulled out. As it spun away, Change came trotting back, tongue lolling and panting softly.
     Flora knelt and patted the dog’s head. “Scared him away, did you? Good dog.” She rose. “Come on. Let’s get back to bed.”
     As she started back into the yard, Flora noticed something on top the gate post. A CD album. She picked it up and carried it with her to the porch where she examined it in the light. Bizarre Ride II the Pharcyde. A hip hop group? Flora wasn’t particularly fond of that kind of music. Yet, for reasons she didn’t fathom, something tingled in her memory.
     Shrugging her shoulders, Flora went back inside and locked the door. Change went immediately to her water dish and quaffed deeply. “Good idea,” Flora whispered. Tossing the CD on the kitchen table, she opened the fridge, got a can of Diet Coke, popped the tab and pulled out a chair at the table. She kicked off the flip-flops, drew her feet up on the chair, hugged her legs and sipped the Coke.
     There’d been a rash of arson attempts lately. More like vandalism than anything serious. Chief Brubaker and Harry suspected it was probably kids. Had she and Change scared off the perpetrators? Or had her visitor been up to something else altogether? Flora couldn’t be sure. And, nibbling her lip, she pondered other possibilities.

What a great hook! I’m sure you’ll want to read more. Here’s how you can get your hands on this hot thriller:





A retired newspaper editor and genealogist, J. R. Lindermuth is the author of thirteen novels, including six in his Sticks Hetrick crime series. His short stories and articles have been published in a variety of magazines. He is a member of International Thriller Writers, EPIC, and the Short Mystery Society.