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My
hubby walks into my office, slides my papers aside and sets a laptop
before me. I look at it. I look at him. I look at it. I’m thinking
he’s showing me a new product from work, but I can’t ignore the sly
grin spreading across his face. Yep, he finally admits, it’s mine.
Merry Christmas. I almost do a cartwheel.
I
am officially mo-bile! I have cut the umbilical cord from my
technological mother, and I am free. Free! (I hear all you laptop owners
chuckling.) No more sitting at my desk, day in and day out. No more
stuffing my chair with pillows and massagers to ease my back. No more
shooing cats out of my chair. (Cats, mind you, who have a ga-zillion
comfy sleeping places around here, but who only want to rest their bones
on the one spot I’ve been warming up.) I shall now become as Waldo,
effortlessly moving from one environment to another while those around
me ask, Where'd she go?
A
big congrats goes to Carolyn
Kisler, who composed a top-notch strange and scary crime scene in
her short story, "The Dead Butterfly Collector." Contest judge
Nancy Myer, who has been on site at hundreds of crime scenes,
noted "not too many people know that butterflies, like buzzards,
eat carrion. This was an awesome touch." So hop on over to the Contest
Results
page and read the winning story as well as the honorable mentions. Also,
a special thanks to judges Audrey Danielson and Nancy for their
time and expertise.
If
you're wondering about the "Stories of Strength" banner above,
just click on it. You can read all about how writers came together to
help the victims of Katrina. It's a perfect chance to give, to receive
and to feel all warm and mushy inside. Check it out now. I'll wait.
~~~
FOR
YOUR RESEARCH - Literary Fiction Search
the Hutchinson
Dictionary of Difficult Words to increase
your vocabulary or to find out what those words really mean!
If
you're looking for a cliché or trying to avoid one, type it in here.
Study the social Elizabethan
life that was common knowledge for those who worked and
played in the 16th century.
The VERB
is published once a month.
It is sent exclusively
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subscription.
To manage yours,
please scroll down
to the bottom of
this ezine.
This issue was
published
under the musical influence of
The favourite thing for me to
have on my desk when I am writing is a seriously large vodka
martini, straight-up, with four olives! I wrote my most
recent novel, Dead Simple (and my first crime novel) over
five months writing between 6.30-9.30pm fuelled by my stiff
drink, the occasional cigar, music and chewing gum!
So essentials on my desk are a
glass, an ash tray, gum, a lighter, (I bought it in Rome, the
most kitsch lighter in the world - it is a statue of an angel
and her eyes and belly button glow red when the flame is on) and
a stack of CDs - as I share some musical taste in music with Dead
Simple's hero Roy Grace, I like Dido, opera arias
(particularly Mozart) and Jazz, especially the work of the
tragically late Bob Berg.
I also have several toy cars -
models of different cars I have owned, including an MG, a 1967
Mini Cooper S and my current Aston Martin, a photograph of my
late mother who was an amazing supporter of my writing and she
makes me smile every time I look at her.
PETER
JAMES is a British author of 12 novels. Breathlessly driven, he
has been a journalist, an assistant to theatre critic Jack
Tinker, written for
a children's program and cleaned house for Orson Welles in London for ten shillings an hour.
He started his own
film company 'Quadrant films,' which, amongst its many titles
include the award winning 'Dead of Night' (aka Deathdream,
1974) winner of Sitges international horror film festival. He
sold his share to concentrate on his
writing, but did take time out to co-produce 'Biggles' in 1985.
In 1992 he co-founded Pavilion Internet, which was one of
the first internet service providers in the UK. Visit
Peter at his website, and read the full first chapter of his
latest best-selling thriller Dead Simple.
In
1819, a whaling ship left Nantucket, Massachusetts for a two year voyage in the
South Pacific to
hunt sperm whales. In the second year, thousands of miles from home, the crew of the Essex met
up with a severely perturbed sperm whale. He rammed the ship twice,
sinking her 2,000 miles off the coast. Twenty
sailors jumped into lifeboats and rowed away.
Surrendering
their supplies to the ocean, these sailors suffered from malnutrition, diarrhea,
blackouts, enfeeblement, boils, edema, tobacco withdrawal and magnesium deficiency which
caused bizarre and violent behavior. Toward the end of their ninety-day
stint, they even resorted to drinking their own urine, stealing food and cannibalism.
Most
of the survivors wrote accounts of the disaster. The most popular one was
penned by the first mate, Owen Chase. The Narrative of the Most
Extra-Ordinary and Distressing Shipwreck of the Whaleship Essex was
published in 1821.
Also
in the Pacific during this period was a young man by the name of Herman whose whaling career
had just begun. He signed on as a hand aboard the New
Bedford whale ship Acushnet. At some point, he met up with William Henry Chase,
Owen Chase's teenage son, and thoroughly questioned him about his
father's experiences on the Essex. Eventually, the boy retrieved a copy of his father's
book from
his sea chest and handed it to Herman. "The reading of this
wondrous story upon the landless sea," he later remembered, "and
so close to the very latitude of the shipwreck had a surprising effect on
me."
Turns
out, the surprising effect served as inspiration for Herman Melville's greatest literary achievement, Moby Dick.
Show,
don't yell. Never use ALL CAPS in dialogue to indicate a raised voice. Instead, use a single exclamation point at the end of each biting
sentence.
"The writer is of no importance. Only what he creates is
important, since there is nothing new to be said. Shakespeare,
Balzac, Homer have all written about the same things, and if
they had lived one thousand or two thousand years longer, the
publishers wouldn't have needed anyone else."
~William
Cuthbert Falkner (original spelling) was born in New Albany, Mississippi.
~ The first of four sons,
he was named after his great-grandfather, "Old Colonel," a lawyer, politician, planter, businessman, Civil War
officer, railroad financier, and best-selling author of the novel
The White Rose of
Memphis.
~ While
he was still a child, the family moved to Oxford in
north-central Mississippi. Faulkner lived most of his life in
that town. Dad Murry
took on a series of jobs, most of them with the help of
"Old Colonel" who founded the First National Bank of Oxford.
~
At about the age of 13, William began to draw and write poetry.
He dropped out of high school before graduating and worked briefly in his grandfather's bank.
~ When he took a job in New Haven with the Winchester
Repeating Arms Company, his name was erroneously spelled
"Faulkner" on his employee records. He never corrected
it.
~ After
being rejected from the US Army because he was too short, Faulkner
enlisted in the Royal Canadian Air Force. He served with the RAF in World War I, but did not
see any action. This, however, didn't stop him from exaggerating
his war record when he got home.
~
After the war he studied literature at the University of
Mississippi. He also wrote poems and drew
cartoons for the university's humor magazine, The
Scream. He left the university without a degree.
~
Over the next few years, Faulkner moved around, working odd jobs
and getting fired from them. He drifted to New Orleans, where
Sherwood Anderson encouraged him to write fiction rather than
poetry.
~ His first book,
The Marble Faun, which was a collection of poems,
appeared in 1924. It did not sell well. This was followed by several
novels that didn't fair much better.
~ In
1929 Faulkner wrote Sartoris,
the first of fifteen novels set in Yoknapatawpha County, a
fictional region of Mississippi. The novels span the decades from the American Civil War through the
Depression. Racism, class division, family as both life force
and curse, are the recurring themes.
~ In
the same year, he also married Estelle Oldham Franklin, his childhood
sweetheart, and bought his famous house Rowan
Oak. Architecture was very important to the
author, which could be seen through his life and his writings.
He obsessed over the restoration of his house, named his books
after buildings and carefully described each one that appeared in his stories.
~ In
January 1931, Estelle gave birth to a daughter, Alabama. The
child was born prematurely, and only lived a few days.
Faulkner dedicated his first collection of short stories, These
13, to her.
~ To
earn money, Faulkner went to Hollywood and worked on
screenplays. Over the next twenty years, he would work on
successful screenplays such as To Have and Have Not and The Big
Sleep as well as publish his novels.
~ When Hemingway
turned down director Howard Hawk's
offer to work with his own book, the director had said,
"I'll get Faulkner to do it; he can write better than you
can anyway."
~
When Faulkner finished a writing project, he went on a drinking
binge. In 1936, back in Oxford, he began the first of many stays
at a "rehab."
~
In November 1949, the majority of the Swedish Academy voted to award the Nobel Prize for
literature to Faulkner. But since a unanimous vote was required,
the awarding had to be delayed by a year. At first Faulkner refused to go to Stockholm to receive
it, but pressured
by the U.S. State Department, the Swedish Ambassador to the
United States, and finally by his own family, he agreed to go.
~ In
his later years, Faulkner continued to write although the hard
drinking had affected his concentration. While working on A
Fable, he kept up with the story by outlining it on the
walls of his office at Rowan Oak.
~
At the age of 64, Faulkner was thrown from a horse. Rushed to
Wright's Sanitarium, he was admitted around 6 pm, and died eight
hours later of a heart attack. He is buried at St. Peter’s Cemetery in
Oxford, Mississippi.
Dialogue consists of all the words that come out of a character's mouth. It
looks and sounds like normal speech, but it isn't really normal speech.
What's the difference? The next time you're around a group of people, close your eyes for a moment and
listen to every word. You will more than likely hear a tedious line of
give and take that you most certainly wouldn't want to read.
Nothing is more thrilling than to hear a
character rise up from the page and speak his mind! Of course not all our characters will be eloquent, but if we refuse to let them be bogged down by tedium, all our characters can become memorable.
EXAMPLE: "Hi, Linda, how are you?"
"I'm fine, Carla. How are you?"
"Couldn't be better. Who's this handsome man with you?"
"My fiancée, Bill. Bill, this is Carla. Carla, this is Bill."
"How do you do, Carla."
"I've heard so much about you, Bill. Please come in. Linda, do you like what I've done with the dining room?"
"This is beautiful. Really beautiful."
"I didn't think we'd ever get finished with it, but here it is."
"Did you do it all yourself?"
"Everything except the new floor. Ralph hired some guys to do that."
"I wish I could do stuff like this. How did you learn how?"
"I was in Home Depot one day and I saw..."
CLEANED
UP:
Carla greeted Linda and her fiancée, Bill, at the door. Excited to show off her decorating skills, she led them straight to the dining room.
"This is beautiful," said Linda. "Did you do it all yourself?"
"Everything except the floor. Ralph hired some guys for that." Carla picked up a tray of hors d'oeuvres and held it before Bill. "Now, what's this I hear about a murder?"
EXAMPLE:
"What
can I get you?" asked the smiling waitress.
Maxie didn't look up from the menu. "What's the soup today?"
"Broccoli cheese."
"I'll take a bowl. And the T-bone, rare. What kind of salad dressing
do you have?"
"Ranch, Caesar, French and Vinaigrette."
"No Bleu Cheese?"
"I'll have to check."
"Please do."
CLEANED
UP: Maxie ordered dinner.
Uncertain
of a piece of your writing?
Send it to us
and we'll clean it up in a future
issue.
Yes, as often
as possible.
- 47%
Sometimes, if it isn't too gory.
-
24% No,
I hate scary stuff.- 29%
"I
love to be scared! Unfortunately, I think we get to a certain age
where we are no longer scared by 'horror stories.' Disgusted, in a
good and entertaining way, but not scared. I haven't seen a movie
that has scared me since The Exorcist came out. The original, that
is. The only thing that is really scary as we get older is reality.
Our kids, grandkids being injured or killed--that's scary." - Cheri
Ahner
"I
don't mind a frisson of fear, but I'm basically a scaredy-cat. I
almost threw up at a screening of What Lies Beneath, and that was
tame. Can't imagine what Freddy Kruger would do to my dreams."
-Jan
Weeks
"Sometimes,
if it is not too gory. I like suspense more than gore. I want to
have to keep guessing all the way to the end." - Tammy H.
"No,
I don't like to be scared. Makes me cranky. I grew up with two
younger brothers who constantly scared me out of my mind, so I find
no pleasure in it." - Annie McDonald
"Me?
I still think the Boogeyman is under my bed!" -Sam Tyler
CHALKBOARD
Here's a chance to show off your
writing!
Send us an excerpt of which you are especially proud. If it's chosen, we'll publish it here in a future issue.
Approximately 500 words. Any genre. You, of course, retain all rights.
It will remain in The VERB archives until you ask us to remove
it.
Subject:
CHALKBOARD submission
(Feel free to include a bio.)
THE END
OF PERSUASION by Victoria Palmer
"He
had become our faithful watchman whose vigilance was as constant
as the spiraling whistles that fell from the sky."
Bodies carpeted the floor of our parlor where faded wallpaper of downcast
roses seemed to mourn their pain as loyally as any loved one
might. We stepped among the agony as if crossing a stream, one slippery
stone at a time, catching our hems on the hopeful limbs that rose
above the water line and begged to be freed from the sweeping
current of pain....
Here I had managed to stave off the verbal bombardment of family
and friends only to be forced from my home by the ruthless shells
of an invading army, who had neither claim nor personal interest
in my affairs whatsoever, yet gained complete control over them
within the span of a second....
He had become our faithful watchman whose vigilance was as
constant as the spiraling whistles that fell from the sky. He
issued forth orders as if he were in the heat of battle. We were
fearless ants whose hill of dirt has just been leveled, piling
upon that buckboard all the memories we could lift.
Have you ever taken a snazzy book home and curled up in your favorite reading spot only to find that around page five you're wondering what the heck's on TV?
This doesn't mean there isn't a good story inside. This does mean the author is taking
his sweet time to tell it. Could someone say the same about your great tale? Take the quiz below to find out if you're telling a story or killing time.
1. On page one, your story opens with:
a) a flashback.
b) a description of anyone or anything.
c) the lead character talking and/or moving.
2. On page thirty-five, you introduce a new character by:
a) filling a page with his past.
b) describing his appearance, from earring to toe ring.
c) informing the reader who he is and what
he's doing there.
3. On page sixty-seven, your hero and heroine have temporarily eluded the bad guys by hiding out in a dark alley. You have them fill the lull by:
a) making wild passionate love.
b) reminiscing.
c) formulating a plan to save their hides.
4. On page one-hundred-one, your lead character puts on a pot of coffee. You convey this simple action by:
a) going through the coffee-making process.
b) providing a brief history of the coffee bean.
c) stating that the lead character made coffee.
5. On page two-hundred-three, your heroine resolves her dilemma. This is where you:
a) follow her ten more years down the road.
b) reveal the moral of the story.
c) end the thing.
If you answered C
to all five questions, give yourself a round of applause. You are a storyteller!
If you didn't, give yourself another round with your manuscript. Study each scene with a keener eye. Remember, whenever you stop action to describe, narrate or point out, your characters are leaning against the wall, waiting, yawning and possibly wondering what the heck's on TV. You don't want your readers to do the same thing.
She
paused and drew in her breath sharply. Then she burst into a
furious torrent of abuse. She shouted at the top of her voice.
She called him every foul name she could think of. She used
language so obscene that Philip was astounded; she was always so
anxious to be refined, so shocked by coarseness, that it had
never occurred to him that she knew the words she used now. She
came up to him and thrust her face in his. It was distorted with
passion, and in her tumultuous speech the spittle dribbled over
her lips.
"I
never cared for you, not once, I was making a fool of you
always, you bored me, you bored me stiff, and I hated you, I
would never have let you touch me only for the money, and it
used to make me sick when I had to let you kiss me. We laughed
at you, Griffiths and me, we laughed because you was such a mug.
A mug! A mug!"
Then
she burst again into abominable invective. She accused him of
every mean fault; she said he was stingy, she said he was dull,
she said he was vain, selfish; she cast virulent ridicule on
everything upon which he was most sensitive. And at last she
turned to go. She kept on, with hysterical violence, shouting at
him an opprobrious, filthy epithet. She seized the handle of the
door and flung it open. Then she turned round and hurled at him
the injury which she knew was the only one that really touched
him. She threw into the word all the malice and all the venom of
which she was capable. She flung it at him as though it were a
blow.