Turkey City Lexicon

I've added the Turkey City Lexicon under "Writing Help". If you're a SF writer, you should memorize. If you write, you should be aware.

MMWUC for November 5, 2007

EXERCISE: Writers pound their keyboards as John Kennedy Toole lumbers up the aisle. He smiles broadly at such an industrious lot, as he positions himself behind the lectern. The clock up ticks to nine a.m. A Yorkie charges in from the side door and bites him. His mother glides into the room through the skylight, somersaults out of the parachute and throws ninja stars at the Yorkie who deflects them with his studded collar. John lies bleeding on the podium. His mother rushes to her son, but a gaggle of men in dark navy blue suits charge out from behind the stage and carry her away, hoisting her high and shouting "Pull at her" or something like that. The Yorkie clears his throat and barks into the microphone, "Close your eyes students, take a deep breath, and relax. For the next ten minutes, write from the OMNI POV, 'Reginald couldn't wait...'."

The writers don't look up. And with his dying gasp, John asks, "Why?"

The blond haired girl in pig-tails in the front row mutters, "NANO. Must get words done."

MUSINGS: Is 2,000 words a day a reasonable goal for a writer? S. King says it is, and some writers are more productive than him, so they must have no problem with it. But I struggled to 2,001 words on Friday and decided, it's not the words that are the problem, it's the words without a plot that's the problem. Without direction, the words come hard and frankly, somewhat less than stimulating. With direction on Saturday after spending some time to plot a bit of the NANO story, the words flowed better. Were the words better? I don't know, but I'm sure there's a host of critiquers who'd love to decided whether or not I'm a dunce.

Steal this idea - "Chewbacca Found"

A friend, with a bad habit of smoking weird cigarettes, was really worried that Star Wards had actually happened because the dead body of a Chewbacca had been found in Texas. This was months ago, and I paid little attention to her ranting. She couldn't remember what she was listening to, but insisted she was right.

Well she was...sort of.

Somehow, I think this could be an excellent story. Something like a Coen movie where a misheard word starts a massive search for the missing Chewbacca and how everyone reacts to the search, and even once solved, the conspiracy theorists start things back up again.

"Visions in Death" by J. D. Robb (Nora Roberts)

It took me three tries before I could finish Chapter 1. The gruesomeness of the crime wasn't nearly as off-putting as the character of Lieutenant Eve Dallas. Perhaps I'm just not ready for the mid-21st century's version of the inverted thin man series. It's not that she's the cop and that her husband's so fabulously wealthy and a man of infinite abilities, but that he gets to play tag-along detective with his wife despite her otherwise prickly attitude about procedure. I found her as emotionally welcoming as snuggling with an Arctic Grayling. The police procedural parts of the story are top notch, but I stumbled over some surprising awkward writing. Any number of times, I was confused as to who was speaking, and some of the secondary characters were poorly drawn. I was ready for a twist at the end, even though I couldn't fathom its form. I had a hard time rating this story and settled for a strong 3 though I suspect her legion of fans will envision me dead.

Post-Halloween Thoughts

I'm sad. The only two goblins I expected to see at my door in the middle of the woods never showed. And I had two 14 inch long okras for each boy figuring that kids these days eat too much candy and this would be better for them.
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I like Halloween; my wife loves Halloween. I dressed in appropriate orange all day to scare the birds, forest animals, and goldfish. The goldfish, however, had this funny loving look in their eyes. I'll never wear all orange around them again.
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Can we cease with the blood and gore Halloween movies? I wanted to relax with an Italian sausage on bun for an hour or two last night, and all I found on my 902 channels were gory "Halloween" movies. Vampires sucking, werewolves woofing, the dead rising, bees stinging, jellyfish jiggling, and sharks snapping. And just what do sharks have to do with Halloween? I mean, I like Jack Nicholson. "Here's Johnny." But the last time I checked, no one except some poor Eskimo on an ice flow gets that much snow at Halloween. My wife pulled out Bambi and slipped into the VHS. We breathed a sigh of relief until we realized 39 seconds later that it was my copy of "Bambi vs. Godzilla". End of story.
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NANO day one went well. Have a log of each day near the bottom on the right-hand side.
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Must go write; must think; must get rid of those okra, they're starting to stink.

NANO Nuttiness Begins

I thought about staying up all night, yanking those first 1,667 words out of my brain, dropping them on paper like gifts from my muse, slamming down cups of coffee to keep me awake, but I'm getting old. I need my two hours of sleep (then pee), then two more (then pee), then maybe three more and awake refreshed in the morning, bed hair directionless, and waddle into the bathroom to pee. (You just knew it was coming.) The words can wait until I get a plot. I did open a file for the story and a few supporting files where I put character lists, names list, timeline, and other assorted tools. I even wrote the title and the opening paragraph. I woke my wife up and read it to her. "It sucks." She rolled over and went back to sleep. I'm not sure if she was dreaming about our vacuum cleaner or commenting on my opening paragraph.
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"Secrets My Grandmother Never Told Me"

Two years ago, my 78-year-old grandmother stole a scooter from an elderly gentleman, roared through the terminal to our gate, and barely made the flight out of Istanbul. It took the authorities hours to figure out what had happened. By then, we were halfway across the Atlantic and the plane didn't have the fuel to turn back. For my grandmother, it was just another bizarre episode in a long series of weird adventures that began long before I was born. But now I wonder if her luck has run out. Being wanted by the Turkish government for theft is one thing. Being taken away by Homeland Security after a flight for murder is another.
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"Goodnight Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are." - Jimmy D.

Happy Halloween

Detective Stark arrived on the scene. The skull and crossbones biker club occupied the outside of "The Little Bar". Full beer mugs clinked like bones rattling. Biker chicks squealed from advances or the lack of them. A girl with flaming red hair grabbed a guy with a Jersey Devils shirt on and smothered him to her Pamela Andersons. Though loud, they were orderly for a biker club. Stark walked over to Officer Rodriquez, who was questioning a shuddering skeleton.

"They seem to be enjoying themselves." He nodded in the direction of the bikers.

"Yes, sir." She kept writing her report.

"Why didn't the skeleton cross the road and join them?"

Rodriquez flipped through her notes. "I asked him the same thing."

"And?"

"He didn't have the guts."
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I want candy! I want candy! I want candy!

Steal this idea - "Day of the Dead"

November 1st is the Day of the Dead celebration in many Latin communities. People gather to clean the bones of the dead (like a woman cleaning her husband's). Maybe there's a story here. Part Brigadoon and part night of the living dead were the bones come alive and try to bring the living to someplace "magical" where they can stay with the dead. Do you stay with the dead bones of a loved one or go back to live for more years? Is it against your religion to say? And what if you're a Sheppard and the bones you seek are....

MMWUC for October 29, 2007

EXERCISE: Kate London smiles in her Jimmy Choo's and Christian Dior tailored suit. Writing students sit taller in their chairs smile broadly and watch eagerly. A gaggle of fictional characters are about to share writing wisdom. Aunt Kitty slips into the back row anticipating an introduction like the star she knew she was decades, er, years ago. Students giggle as Austin Carr sneaks out from behind the set made up to appear like the Van Trapp house in Austria or the Goff house out west. Jeanie Callahan waits off-stage to be introduced by Kate. Kitty smiles at Austin, who reminds her of Rudy Valentino, and imagines him performing in the Egyptian Theatre back home until Austin trips over the dead body attorney, Philip Parker. Austin crashes into Kate. They tumble into Jeanie Callahan, who has stepped onstage. Rachel Wilder rushes into the room cluthing a Dodo bird she found on Hispaniola. "I'll get to the bottom of this," she declares. The students applaud thinking it was all part of the act. Austin helps Kate and Jeanie to their feet, grasping buns a bit too fondly. Jeanie smiles her best salesperson smile. Rachel rushes the stage. The lawyer lies dead. Kitty clears her thought. "Close your eyes students, take a deep breath, and relax. Doesn't that feel good. For the next ten minutes, write from he protagonists POV, 'He surprised me...'."

MUSINGS: What makes a character in a story memorable? How do you know you're writing a memorable character? Damn, if I know. On "Seinfeld", they were casting Jerry's sitcom and the only person they agreed upon who was a character was Kramer. Irreverent, spastic, self-absorbed beyond belief, klutzy, adventurous, scamming, screaming loud, and ultimately bizarre Kramer. That's a character. So who's your favorite fictional character and why?

Death in Fiction

Not the most pleasant subject, but those of us who write mysteries need to understand death to make our prose come alive. Not for the squimish, but this article gives insights into the last moments.
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On a happier note, I get to go to the dentist this week so he can probe and scrape and drill and...

Proposal Writer Goofs

Would you work with these authors if the proposal came to you with these errors? Does posting these goofs make the editor less ethical?
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Last weekend to prepare for NANO. I'm vascilating on two plot ideas. Must get off the fence.
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We got 4.90 inches of rain in three days. My dandelions and crab grass are happy, but there is a long way to go to get out of the drought.

Vote For Your Favorite Unpublished Novel

Another possible outlet for writers, Slush Pile Reader, is looking for readers and manuscripts. I don't know the track record for SPR or Gather.com or some of the other "services" that have sprung up, but I figured I didn't have anything brilliant to say today, so I'd mention SPR before it goes online. It's easier if you get in from the beginning than play catch up if this is your thing. For an interview of the person running SPR, see this article on Writer Unboxed.

P.S. It's raining, lots, YEAH!

"The Kiss"

Dirk had me where he wanted me. High. My legs dangling. If he was quick enough, I'd plop to the sand faster than that ice cream cone scoop I lost last week. My crotch would explode with pain moments after the hard wood hit, bounced up and...it was too horrible to think about.

He smiled at the fear in my eyes.

"Don't do it," I said.

"Whatcha gonna do about it?" He slipped his muscular leg off to one side.

"Dirk. Don't hurt Rick," Sally pleaded.

"Whatcha gonna do about it?"

Dirk sounded like my Grandma's one-note parrot before I dropped the bowling ball on it. Gawd, I could use the extra weight now to lift Dirk up. What I wouldn't give to weigh sixty pounds.

"I'll never speak to you again," Sally said walking away from Dirk and toward me.

"Talking's overrated," Dirk replied. "At least that's what my old man says." He had a leg on the ground, and I felt my end of the see-saw dip. His shirt hung over the hand bar, but I knew his hands still held on tight.

"This can only end badly for you, Dirk."

"Whatcha gonna do about it?" He had called my bluff and leaned to shove off the see-saw, but Sally grabbed my side.

He rose into the air surprised by her sudden movement. His shirt caught on the hand bar as his body swung under the seat. He wrapped his legs around the seat and dangled upside down. I descended slow enough that the feared crash never occurred. Our positions had been reversed.

"Let me down easy. Please."Dirk pleaded.

I slid to the end of the seat. "Whatcha gonna do about it?"

Sally let go. I jumped off. All seventy-five pounds of Dirk crashed to the ground and a great wailing erupted. I ran to Sally and like my father's favorite actor, John Wayne, had done to Maureen O'Haira, and like Elliott had done to the blond girl in "ET". I bent her backwards and kissed her long and hard, but not with the tongue as I heard my older brother talk about. That was gross.

Sally pushed me away. She swung and and knocked me into the uncaring Dirk in the sand under the see-saw.

She wiped her hand across her face. "Ick. Boy germs," and ran away.

It would be twelve more torturous years before I got a second kiss.

Marketing and Sales and $

Okay, this article is seven days old (big deal), but it certainly makes some interesting points about the ten best ways to market your book. "As the Man Booker Prize looms, every competing publisher has every finger crossed that their book will be boosted into the stratosphere. But what are the reasons a book sells well?"
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And yet again. Another look at the NYTimes' best sellers list. I especially like the idea of putting a $100K bonus into a writer's contract if they make it to #1. Anyone out there have that in their contract?

Steal this idea - "Waterless World"

The city of Raleigh, NC has 37 days of water left by some estimates and will be out of water in January, 2008 according to the Army Corps of Engineers. I've had 2.3 - 2.4 inches of rain since mid-July (and precious little before that). What happens when a major city runs out of water? It might happen in our lifetime to some big city. I think this idea is ripe for those futuristic science fiction writers out there to explore. What are the contingency plans? Dig wells? Buy water, but from whom? Truck in water? Why are the largest water users in most city water systems paying the cheapest amount for water? Is there a conspiracy there? How will our enemies (friends, what's that?) react and support us. What happens when an entire country runs out of water? Yemen is supposed to run out of water by 2015 and has already dug wells for water over a mile deep only to find nothing! Maybe Kevin Costner will star in the movie version.

MMWUC for October 22, 2007

EXERCISE: The gathering students watch the diorama for inspiration.
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"It can't be true," the writer yelled. The building shook with his words.

Angel leaned over and laid a white gloved hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. Nobody there understood you anyway."

He spun around and locked a stern gaze on to her green eyes. "Look homeward, Angel. I can almost see it."

She could heard the lie in his words. "No," she said, her rich voice crashing with emotion. "You can't go home again."
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The actor strode to center stage. "Take a deep breath, close your eyes, and relax. Write for the next ten minutes from the protagonists POV, 'I was alone with my thoughts when...'."

MUSINGS: Okay, I'm alone with my thoughts, and they are again turning toward chocolate. I want chocolate. There, I've written it. I feel better, but I still don't have any chocolate. And writing about it isn't giving me that sweet endorphin rush. And there is no chocolate in the house, and it's a long way to chocolate from where I live. I've even polished off the semi-morsels for baking. I think there are some of those nasty tea stick, ya know, the ones about six inches long that are really rolled wafers that look like cigars in the Virginia Slims people had made cigars. That might work. With NANO coming, I've got to find some cheap candy. Wait! Halloween's coming. Thank you, Lord. Thank you, Chris Baty. I knew you created NANOWRIMO in November for a reason. All writers can be high on Halloween candy while they writer their 50,000 words. What a pair of evil geniuses! I still don't have chocolate, but the future is looking brighter as I cradle my thoughts.

Steal this idea - "Mole Man in Space"

Okay, I'm not talking about mole man from "The Simpson's" (although that would be kind of funny), but what if we've learned to inject the mole DNA that controls longetivity into a group of astronauts sent to explore the first inhabital planet we find. Mole's DNA allows a 24-year-old mole rate to have the body of a 2-year-old rat. So that's about 1/24th the rate of aging. So if our young astronaut crew of twelve (30-40) are still in breeding age when they arrive 24 years later, they can start a new colony...and that's where the fun begins.

Why are there only six men and two women left? Who gets to mate? What if the planet is not as hospitable as the thousands of little probes said it was? What if the sub-space communications can't inform Earth of the problems they're having? What about Naomi. For God's sake, what about Naomi. And why is everyone getting sensitive to the light and losing their hair?

"Big Numbers" by Jack Getze

Big Numbers, Big Trouble, Big Debut. Someone is killing Austin Carr. That we know as Jack Getze's 'Big Numbers' opens up. How Austin Carr, barely legal, loving dad, rum swilling, camper-on-the-back of a pick-up dwelling, glib stockbroker gets there, is the basis for this darkly comic fight for survival between the twilight shades of doing wrong and wanting to do right. Austin has more lives than Morris the cat, and he needs every one of them to fend off all the people who want him out of the way. The only thing missing for me is a touch more of the New Jersey. Perhaps the next novel by this newcomer will deepen Austin to cult status, or at least, give us new and inventive ways to put Austin into the hospital. :-) For lovers of hard-hitting, no frills mysteries featuring a lusty redhead for Carr to tussle with, this book puts up big numbers in the ratings.

A Love Story

From our twelve-page wedding invitation sixteen years ago, the lead story was as follows:

--- SNIP ---

"Desperado, why don't you come to your senses,
come down from your fences...open the gate."

Cary, NC. Often the question is asked, "Just how did these two end up together in the first place?" For us, it was quite different. We met through a personal ad placed by Carrie in the February 1, 1990 "Spectator", a weekly news magazine. The ad read as follows:

SWF, 36, 5'3", 130 pounds, debt-free Midwest transplant who's attractive, educated, musical, playful, energetic, easy-going, direct, liberal with a sense of humor. Enjoys travel, cultural scene, cooking, long walks, dancing, and movies. Seeking SWM, 32-42, nonsmoker, healthy, secure, optimistic, professional with similar interests. Wanting to develop a romantic, caring relationship to possible commitment. Photo optional. POB 51435, Raleigh 27609.

After responding to her ad via a letter, Rick and Carrie talked on the phone. A meeting was arranged for them to take a walk around Shelley Lake in Raleigh on a blustery, cold Sunday morning. Carrie was late; Rick had a cold; Carrie talked incessantly during the entire walk (hey, she was nervous). After the walk, they went to see "Driving Miss Daisy" at the local theater.

It was not love at first site. In fact, Carrie had some discouraging works about Rick, which she has subsequently forgotten, and felt that he wasn't serious about dating because he spent too much time at work. Rick thought Carrie was okay, but boy could she talk. Although they didn't get together again after the first meeting, Carrie had mentioned Singles Discovery to Rick. He indicated that he would probably attend a meeting some time soon. Carrie thought, "Right!"

At the April meeting of Singles Discovery, Carrie was pleasantly shocked to discover Rick tugging at her sleeve at the beginning of the meeting. Eventually, Rick and Carrie started to do things with some of the other members of Singles Discovery: weekly volleyball games, monthly outings to different restaurants, writing the Singles Discovery newsletter, and going to various other Singles Discovery activities. However, as Angie (Carrie's best friend) can attest, Carrie was puzzled by rick's pedestrian approach to dating.

Finally, Rick asked her out to a Labor Day concert by the NC Symphony orchestra at Meredith College. Carrie had to initiate the first serious kiss of this lover affair. (Hey, Rick really is quite shy.)

After that weekend, Rick and Carrie started doing all sorts of activities together including a trip to Williamsburg and the Outer Banks, an overnight camping trip to Cape Lookout with several friends, and lots of time spent together talking (and talking and talking). They also went to symphony concerts together as well as movies. They helped start a book club in which they are still mainstay members.

Turning point...well, possibly one of many, was the weekend of November 2nd when Rick and Carrie spent two gloriously warm fall days on the mostly deserted beaches of North Carolina camping and fishing. And though to some it may not sound exciting, the weather, the elements, and the company turned the weekend into something special.

The rest, as they say, is history.

--- END OF SNIP ---

Sixteen years later, and still going strong. She made me write this line. Did to. Yes, you did. And yes, it was the debt-free statement that made me answer your ad.

"Briga-DOOM" by Susan Goodwill

A strong and witty first novel with a revolving door of murder suspects, including Kate, in what will be a nice mystery series. The decidely quirky secondary characters might live down the street from you and are the spice that keeps life and this story interesting to the end when the curtain falls on the bad guy. Susan's uncluttered prose makes for an easy read on a snowy afternoon or a day at the lake while trying to figure out whodunit in a race to uncover the murderer before doom can befall Kate, Ernie, Kitty, and Mudd Lake's Egyptian Theatre. It is a five star romp.