Here’s one of my brothers reading it. He seems to be enjoying himself. I swear I didn’t pay him to do this.
So much about writing novels, I’ve found, comes down to respect. Respect for the reader and their precious time. Respect for the authenticity and believability of the characters I’m creating. And most importantly, respect for reality; asking myself “how would this play out in real life?” Luckily, there are millions of ways something might play out, but it still has to fall within that realm.
From my novel, Operation Detour:
It’s a surreal experience; like a dream where everything is out of place and juxtaposed. As I am hopping down this bunny trail, convinced I will soon be meeting my maker, the old Hall & Oates song “Man-Eater” comes to mind. I start singing.
Oh-oh here she comes
Watch out boy, she’ll blow you up
Oh-oh here she comes
She’s a man-eater
Here’s that song on Last.FM, FYI: http://www.last.fm/music/Hall+&+Oates/Maneater?ac=maneater
A bit of advice to myself (and any other writers out there): Once you’ve laid the groundwork of your story, come up with the main characters, basic premise, and rough outline, at some point you have to just let the story itself tell the story.
You, the writer, are just the narrator. Try not to get in the way. 🙂
Writers are often those who would otherwise be left out of the conversation. The only way they can get a word in is to write it down.
Below is a screenshot of an ad that showed up on one of my websites. Hopefully for the sake of anyone clicking that ad, the search results find a college that knows the difference between plural and possessive forms of various words like, say, “college.” 🙂
An oldie but a goodie. At least it still makes me laugh …
by William Arthur “Bill” Holmes. © Copyright 1990
Driving around town the other day, I somehow ended up in Hollywood. I don’t get to Hollywood much anymore and don’t usually find myself missing it. But it was a beautiful day. And seeing all the quaint shops — each striving for uniqueness — and the many people on the street — each striving for a unique sameness — I wondered why I ever left. On this day, Hollywood truly seemed like the place to be.
Getting hungry, I started looking for a hip, cool place to have lunch. I passed by several places with tables on the sidewalk and young, hip, sunglass-wearing people sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes. But I couldn’t have lunch at one of these places. I was alone. And, in Hollywood, alone people just don’t sit at sidewalk cafe tables for lunch.
As I stopped at a traffic light I saw a Jack-In-The-Box restaurant on my left — not exactly a cool, hip place to have lunch. But I was tired of driving around, and my stomach was telling me to stop here for lunch.
I asked Elizabeth to “call mom” on my phone. I had her do it because she was using it to watch My Little Pony on Netflix.
Next thing I know, there’s a man on the other end saying, “Hi Bill! How ya doin’?!” Who the hell is answering my wife’s phone?
Why is he being so friendly? Has she been kidnapped and this is her smart-ass kidnapper playing games? Yeah, I have a good imagination.
No. It turns out my stupid phone (Galaxy Note II) somehow inserted Alan’s (former coworker) # into one of the entries for my wife.
I had to tell Alan that, while I always liked him, he and I would never have the sort of relationship my wife and I have.
Not surprisingly, he seemed genuinely happy to hear that!
I was rearranging the pantry shelves to slide a spare shelf in under one that was sagging from the weight of too many cans. In the process, the shelf below that collapsed. One of the pins/supports fell out, sending a large turkey-sized pot (with more pots inside that) and various bottles clattering to the ground. It made a lot of noise. 🙂
My wife came out of the bedroom with a look of concern. Our daughter declared, “It wasn’t me!”
Very calmly I turned to my wife and said, “Oh, you heard that?”
She didn’t say it aloud, but the look on her face said, “Smart ass.”
Luckily, everything that fell to the ground was either metal or plastic, so nothing broke, “Other than my shattered pride,” I said.