“War is the father of all things”

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One thing my creative writer has said numerous times is this quote by Swiss health economist and author Gerhard Kocher: “War is the father of all things.”

Also, one of his own quotes (I believe) derived from it. I’m afraid I can’t remember the correct wording, but it is something along the lines of: “writing is war.”


Writing is war, I can truly believe that from my own experiences with it over the past 8 years. It also happens to be a war with multiple fronts that an author must fight simultaneously.

The first (and most obvious) front, is the one with the page. Writing isn’t simple, it’s not just sitting down and typing… well, it is, but it is so much more than that, too. Or, rather, it is far more difficult.

Words don’t always come right out onto the page as willy nilly as a breath escapes our lungs. Finding a word, the right word, takes time, and effort. As Robert Frost said: “I never knew what was meant by choice of words. It was one word or none.”

We need to search through our own minds, our dictionaries, to find the right word for the right situation. The one word that fills the the hole completely without anything extra left behind. The perfect fit. It’s not easy, it takes time, effort, and lots of (re)writing.

The second front is the one with time. As a full time university student in his third year (with a job, now, by the way), I don’t think I really need to tell you that my time is taken by many different obligations, duties, and personal pass times. So, days like today (where I was on campus for 12 hours) how do I find time to write? Well, I haven’t, really… I’m, personally, losing this front, badly.

But, that’s part of the point. With all the hustle and bustle of everyday life, we still need to find the time to write. It’s not easy, but then again, anything worth doing isn’t easy.

The final, and most important, front is the home front. In war, sometimes you have to fight various aspects on the home front. In wars between countries, this includes rationing gasoline for use by the troops, or fighting for support of a war that the populace doesn’t want to be in.

In writing, the biggest, and worst, manifestation of the home front is the inner critic.

This is the little voice inside your head that speaks nonsense about how bad your writing is, and throws other insults into your face while your down that doesn’t have anything to do with your writing.

The harsh, wild critic is hard to break. He creeps behind every word, lives beneath every sentence, and has friends he invites over for drinks in your story.

This war is just like every other. To win, you need strong troops and high morale. You need to look at the big picture, see the small picture, plan ahead and live one day at a time. Sometimes, you win battles, other times you lose them. You must remember that when victory is in sight, defeat can come far easier. Success in one front can mean disaster in another. It’s not easy, and it’s definitely not pretty.

“I am sick and tired of war. Its glory is all moonshine.
It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard
the shrieks and groans of the wounded
who cry aloud for blood, for vengeance, for desolation.
War is hell.”
From “On Killing” by Lt. Col. Dave Grossman

Tired of Wiping Out Words as You Type?

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A while back I became completely frustrated with the insert key on my keyboard, particularly when editing an existing story. There is little more counterproductive than typing merrily away only to discover that it took out a bunch of other material.

So I looked it up and finally found this magical tidbit of information. Somehow I have misplaced my file, so I owe Tech-Reciipes.com for supplying the information this go round. Anyway, here is what you do, as listed on the website:

1. Start Microsoft Office Word (opening a document is fine)
2. Click on the Tools menu
3. Click Customize
4. Click the Options tab
5. Click Keyboard
6. Under the Categories dropdown box, select All Commands
7. Under the Commands dropdown box, select Overtype
8. Under the Current keys downdown box, select Insert
9. Click Remove
10. Click Close until the dialog windows close.

Voila! I hope this saves someone else some time and heartache.

Now that I shared this trick, can anyone tell me how to shut off the grammatical symbols created by the apostrophe key? I seem to turn this function on and off at random. Today I have been ending up with things like Ïwent to the store,” she said, änd picked up those apples you like.” When what I meant to type was, “I went to the store,” she said, “and picked up those apples you like.”

It gets annoying having to hit the space bar an extra time to avoid the Ï, ä, and the like every time. Anyone else have this problem or know the fix? Well, in the meantime I’m going to go back to my current WIP and see if I hit the right key strokes to turn this annoying “shortcut” off again. Happy writing!

Axioms

Writer Zen Garden Posted on by

So, I’m taking a Creative Writing course this quarter, and the teacher listed eight axioms in his syllabus that I’d like to share, that I think we could all learn from as artists, even if we don’t necessarily agree with all of them (I don’t, not really).


An imperfect sentence is an imperfect thought.
All fiction is information.
The way to be boring is to leave nothing out.
To be interesting is to be interested.
Well-used, language is a precision tool.
There’s no such thing as content without form.
There are no dull subjects, only dull writing.
“Never to be satisfied”- All art is contained herein.

Flash Fiction Friday

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We at the Writer’s Retreat wish you a safe and fun weekend. Happy reading!

A. Catherine Noon
This is an older one that I wrote that has two additional chapters. I’ve been thinking of adding to it, to round it out, but thought I’d share these because I like them. Enjoy!

Darla M. Sands

Ok, here is something I cooked up for my first picture prompt. I really like it, but should give a content warning advisory.
Lucius Antonyhttp://luciusantony.blogspot.com/2010/01/flash-fiction-friday.html

Thoughts on Creating a Page Turner

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As I explore forums catering to professional and aspiring authors, my eyes are opening to the strong opinions people form on things such as character point of view. I never in my life have stopped to consider POV when picking out a book to read. Give me an interesting plot for escapism, some intriguing characters to care about, and I’m there.

Likewise as I write it’s mainly what the characters have to say that decides the format of my fiction. But hoping to get my work published means I should pay a little attention to what book buyers want. Right?

A pleasant part of that has been simply reading more contemporary fiction. Another way has been to sample from the countless experiences shared by considerate authors blazing the trail.

Not all has been delightful. For example, I have read that particular styles of writing are actually expected for certain genres. Allegedly, an aficionado scans the first paragraph counting on a certain formula.

I won’t even begin to list what genre follows which blueprint because, frankly, I find the notion disheartening. If that is the case and my offering doesn’t fit will my effort be passed over without a second glance?

It’s a sad thought. So tonight at my desk I’ll advance the plot and not worry about fitting into a mold.

Yet the discovery calls to mind a writing class recommended some months ago by a friend of a friend. Initially enthused, I sat and listened at some length to this stranger’s discourse. It seemed that this lady wrote steamy romance stories that were on the cusp of being published. If I did what she’d done, maybe that could be me!

Quickly I learned that she writes erotica not out of passion but because she thinks she can turn a fast buck. The seminar she touted like a sales pitch sounded as if the “professor” focused less on the craft than how to market material to publishers. And her almost religious fervor made me wonder if she’d get a commission by recruiting others to her cult. As you can imagine, I gave the course a skip.

I am happy to report finding more encouragement than disappointment. Granted, I have yet to officially introduce my works to the world of publishing. My focus remains on telling the story and doing rewrite after rewrite until the end product satisfies me. I’ll worry about the rest later.

So you tell me, gentle reader, what keeps you turning the page?

The Night Is A Harsh Mistress, Chapter 16

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Chapter 16: You Know That Saying, ‘Don’t Poke the Bear’?

The chocolate cake tasted every bit as good as it looked. Rachel felt tempted to eat it all, even Viktor’s portion, but she still had some manners.

She fished her address book out of her purse, glad she’d put her client information in there and not just on the hard drive. Viktor still hadn’t re-installed it for her, but he said he’d be back. She decided to take him at his word.

After all, what was she supposed to do if he didn’t?

She dialed her phone and waited while it rang. Precisely on the third ring, it got picked up. “Carter Lawson.”

“Mr. Lawson, this is Rachel Carmichael. I have some news for you; is now a good time?”

“One moment.” He set the phone down and she heard footfalls, as though his desk sat on a wooden floor. The sounds returned and then he picked up again. “Yes?”

“Mr. Lawson, I can tell you for certain that your wife is not cheating on you with Peter Henkle.”

“You’re sure? But…” He paused. “Absolutely sure?”

She cleared her throat and decided she came this far, she might as well jump in with both feet. “Mr. Lawson, were you aware that Peter Henkle is gay?”

A much longer pause followed this time, though no footfalls. Then a creak, of what she assumed was a chair. “Could… could you say that again, please?”

“Peter Henkle is gay, Mr. Lawson. Your wife loves you, it’s clear to me from following her that she’s not having any kind of an affair.”

He exhaled what sounded like a shaky breath. “You don’t say.”

“Yes, Mr. Lawson.”

“I see. Well. You are worth every penny of your fee, Ms. Carmichael. Every penny. Would you prefer me to send the balance of your fee in the mail, or do you want to send a courier to pick it up?”

Her mind boggled at the idea of her, Rachel Carmichael, having a courier. “Mail is fine, Mr. Lawson.” She confirmed the address and hung up the phone.

She finished up the case file for Mr. Lawson and his wife and put everything away in her empty-looking file cabinets, annoyed all over again at the invasion of her personal space. Maybe she should get a dog. She could just imagine the look on Mr. Singh’s face when she tried to sneak a Rottweiler past him.

Her mobile phone gave a shrill chirp and she jumped. “Carmichael.”

“Raych?” Viktor’s voice sounded scratchy, like he didn’t have good cell reception. “Are you still at your office?”

“Yes. You told me to –”

“Get out of there! Now!”

“What? Viktor, what are you –”

“Just go! Get somewhere public and call me when you’re safe. Go! Go now!”

She stood up, heart pounding in her throat. “You’re not kidding, are you?” She scooped up her purse and her keys and hit the lights. “How bad is it?”

“Just go!” he barked, and the line went dead.

Jerk.

She slipped into the hall, her back crawling with the need to hide. She locked her door and started for the elevator. It ‘dinged,’ someone arriving at her floor, and her heart shot into her mouth.

Rachel dove into the stairwell, easing the door closed behind her, and waited. Footfalls approached and then went past, heading down the hall. She took off down the stairs, her purse clamped under her arm, and fished her keys out of her pocket to clench them in her hand so they didn’t rattle. She made it down four flights and could see the exit door for the ground level when she heard it.

The door on her landing opened.

She froze, one foot dangling in thin air, her hand clamped on the railing to her left. She opened her mouth as wide as possible so the sound of her panting wouldn’t be heard. No sound came for several more moments, and finally the door closed. She waited, suspicious, and then heard it. A soft scrabble, as of a jacket over jeans, and resisted the urge to crane her head over the edge to see if someone looked down at her from above.

The wait stretched, her heartbeat thudding so loud she felt sure the neighbors on the other side of the stairwell wall could hear it, not to mention whoever stood above. Finally, they moved, and the door opened and closed.

She blew out her breath and crept as quickly but quietly as possible to the ground floor door and peered out of the small peep-hole. Nothing moved.

She eased out into the night, wishing for once that the street lights had burnt out. Something to give her more shadows to hide in. She crouched down by the car parked in front of the door and then realized that if someone truly did follow her, they’d know where the stairwell let out. She could either unlock the door and go back up, or get out of there.

Trusting to Viktor, Rachel bolted for her car. She made it with no outcry. She unlocked the door and threw her purse onto the passenger seat with such force that it bounced off the opposite door and fell flat on the floor. She started the engine and pulled out of her space, no other lights moving.

Something drew her eye up, and she stared a moment. She counted the windows to be sure, and then swore.

Someone, equipped with a flashlight, snooped around her office.

She turned onto the main street and headed for Borders, out of habit, then changed her mind. She’d met Steve at Borders. A McDonalds stood in the middle of two wide parking lots, one for a strip mall and the other for a medical complex, so she pulled in and drove around back to park next to the dumpster.

‘Get somewhere public,’ Viktor had ordered. Was this public enough? Was it far away enough?

A sharp boom nearby made her jump and let out a squawk. The young man emptying the day’s trash looked at her quizzically before dumping it in the large container, then turned back inside.

She made up her mind and cut the engine. She’d just get a table in the back and a soda, and wait for Viktor. Should she text him? Call him? Wait?

She decided to wait, in case he needed to be quiet. She had a horrible flash of his mobile vibrating at the wrong moment and alerting some faceless assailant to his presence, and swallowed back sudden tears.

“Viktor, where are you?” she whispered.

An obviously homeless man two tables over eyed her when she spoke and then went back to talking to his tray. The minutes dragged by, slow, like poison.

The Power of Plurality: The Many In Support of the One

Writer Zen Garden Posted on by

People frequently ask me, “How do you do all that?” when they find out the irons I have in the fire. While it is true that when I was younger, I would frequently bite off more than I could chew. But it is also true that I’ve learned a lot since then and, while some might disagree with me, no longer am as subject to that foible as I once was. So, how do I do all that?

There are two simple answers, that end up becoming complex in the telling. One is organizational and time management skills, which I was emphatically NOT born with (in case you feel, like I do, that busy people must be part magician). I went to lots of classes and read a lot of books, have tried a lot of things, and worked out what works for me. While I could write an entire essay on that subject (and, truthfully, probably a whole book or five), because I have many ideas and opinions on it, the subject I wish to discuss today concerns the second answer: I have help.

We will now pause for those of you who wish to twit me on the fact that yes, I do need professional help.

Moving on now. What I mean by help is, simply put, playmates. I don’t mean professional or paid help (which I do also, in select areas, utilize – but I am not wealthy, so cannot use as much outside paid assistance as I might, in my more grandiose moments, wish). I mean I find people with similar interests, and we schedule time together to do things.

Yes, it really is that simple.

So, what kinds of things do I work with others on?

Pretty much anything, including housecleaning and bill paying. You know the Apple ad, “there’s an app for that?” Same thing here. If you have an interest, chances are high that there are others out there with the same interest. Now, I’m very fortunate to live in the third largest city in the United States, so that gives me about nine million potential buddies. But we also have this thing called the internet (or, for you LOL users out there, the interwebs). Don’t overlook the power of groups on the internet. I’m here to tell you that it can be a very comforting thing that another human being out there knows your trials and tribulations, even if they’re four thousand miles away.

We have a candle making party every year, for example. It’s always the first weekend in February, and is either one or both days. This year, we’ll do two days. Paraffin candles the first, beeswax the second. We make pretty much all the candles we’ll use in the coming year during that weekend.

What’s fascinating is this: we (the friend of mine who hosts these with me) always hope to do more than one candle weekend. But when you add in the time for prep (putting down cardboard on the floor to catch drips, wrapping the stove and counters with foil, melting the pots…) it’s a huge job. We’ve only done it one year out of the last ten. But we have done candle parties TEN years out of the past ten. Because we know people are coming, and now people know we do these and about when we do them so they ask for it, it adds power to the calendar, and ensures that we get at least one candle day a year. And now, at a remove of doing them for a decade, I actually have learned quite a lot about the process – without even taking a class!

Now, don’t underestimate the power of classes, either – because they have the same function. The only reason I’m focusing on groups here, as in “groups of friends or acquaintances with similar interests” is that frequently, the latter do not charge whereas the former do. On the other hand, classes for which one pays might induce one to be more serious about going. It’s up to the individual.

What else have we done in a group?

Spiritual exploration, political discussion, parties (I’m a pot luck expert by now), hiking, walking, weight loss, sales training, lead generation for sales, house cleaning and organization, knitting and sewing (any of the handicrafts), paper arts, Pysanky (Ukranian decorated eggs), bread making, soup making, car maintenance (no kidding – changed my oil with a buddy back in the days before complex catalytic converters and computer tune-ups)…

Even if you’re an introvert, don’t underestimate the power of people. We all have interests and skills, and others do too. It makes sense to leverage those skills. Maybe I’m great at organization and you’re great at web design. So, I’ll organize your office and files, and you design my website. Or, better yet, we teach each other our skills – synergy at its truest distillation.

Now, what the heck does this have to do with writing?

Well, think about it. This is a group blog.

(The light bulb should be going off right about now.)

~grin~

See? Even writing can be done in group – either an in-person one, or a “virtual” one. Schedule write-ins, prompt groups, contests, anything your little heart desires.

There’s a group for that.