Thoughts While We Wait on Monday
"Truth is always strange. Stranger than fiction." - Lord Byron
Read this in my daily page-a-day calendar (Secret Lives of Authors and Artists, or something like that - don't have the box anymore). So true, so often. In a way, when creating a story, especially one as all-encompassing to a reader as a novel, we have to make "realistic" worlds for the characters (and by default the readers) to live. A lot of daily minutae in my life wouldn't go into the book I'm writing, because no one cares how often a character picks his nose. But he or she should go the bathroom (off-stage if possible) now and then. They should go to church, or eat a meal. Too often we as authors get so wrapped up in "story" that we forget to make it "real". On the other side of that coin, sometimes an author can put too many details in, and bore the reader. It's like spice, add enough for flavor, but don't put too much in that you lose the overall taste.
My life, like everyone else's, has had times when - if I were to write it as fiction - would be rejected by any sane editor as being "too unrealistic." Novels, as random as we like to think they are sometimes, are not. There's a flow and ebb to the plot, to reach the end. Life just takes these turns now and then into left field. Maybe. I'm a big There's A Reason kind of guy. Too much of my life to this point has led to too many inevitable Other Points that I sometimes feel like Roland Deschain in King's latter Gunslinger novels. I suppose anyone who believes in God feels like Roland at time or another. But I get off topic. So, sometimes life can be so odd that it just won't work in a story. Too boring, or too friggin' bizarre. Take your pick. And you do, as a writer, pick which pieces to let fall from your brain onto the page, and which to leave hidden in the locked room at the back, where they pound and pound for release, never stopping.. never...
OK, other thoughts...
The Olympics are in full swing. One of my children (I forget who) asked what the five rings of the Olympic logo means. According to wiki answers, they represent the five continents represented (the Americas being one continent). That may be true. It's wiki. Could be a load of crap. With wiki, anything's possibile. In the end, rings mean different things to different people, I suppose. Could just as easily signify the billions of dollars Visa is spending for their commercials.
I think the final ballot for the Bram Stoker Award is supposed to be announced on Monday. Fingers crossed, and good luck to everyone waiting for the final list with worms on their toungues.
Finally finished watching Pulp Fiction the other day. What a great, great movie! I became a major Tarrentino fan just a couple years back when I watched Kill Bill. Not sure what made me finally decide to finally risk a Tarrentino flik, maybe I got such a kick out of his guest appearances in Alias, or maybe my subconcious liked the title. Probably both. Regardless, it blew me away. Funny, brilliant... back to more recently, watched most of Pulp Fiction one night when I had the TV to myself, but it was so long never finished it. Took until last Friday (and having bought the movie on DVD when I found it on sale) to finish it. Simply brilliant. Yes, violent sometimes, and yes, as random as life itself and still be good (see above), and maybe not as random, as the final scene implies. Anyway, for no other reason, it's worth watching simply for any scene John Travolta is in. Seriously. They're all fantastic, everyone, including Tarrentino in his cameo, but the scene with JT slinking through the 50's restaraunt, taking in the sights... go see it for that 5 minute epic scene pan, and any scene he's in with Uma Thurman - and of course the scene with the gun resting on the back of the front seat I'll say no more about. That killed me....
Ok, that's it.
Paul, get back to work.
Read this in my daily page-a-day calendar (Secret Lives of Authors and Artists, or something like that - don't have the box anymore). So true, so often. In a way, when creating a story, especially one as all-encompassing to a reader as a novel, we have to make "realistic" worlds for the characters (and by default the readers) to live. A lot of daily minutae in my life wouldn't go into the book I'm writing, because no one cares how often a character picks his nose. But he or she should go the bathroom (off-stage if possible) now and then. They should go to church, or eat a meal. Too often we as authors get so wrapped up in "story" that we forget to make it "real". On the other side of that coin, sometimes an author can put too many details in, and bore the reader. It's like spice, add enough for flavor, but don't put too much in that you lose the overall taste.
OK, other thoughts...
I think the final ballot for the Bram Stoker Award is supposed to be announced on Monday. Fingers crossed, and good luck to everyone waiting for the final list with worms on their toungues.
Finally finished watching Pulp Fiction the other day. What a great, great movie! I became a major Tarrentino fan just a couple years back when I watched Kill Bill. Not sure what made me finally decide to finally risk a Tarrentino flik, maybe I got such a kick out of his guest appearances in Alias, or maybe my subconcious liked the title. Probably both. Regardless, it blew me away. Funny, brilliant... back to more recently, watched most of Pulp Fiction one night when I had the TV to myself, but it was so long never finished it. Took until last Friday (and having bought the movie on DVD when I found it on sale) to finish it. Simply brilliant. Yes, violent sometimes, and yes, as random as life itself and still be good (see above), and maybe not as random, as the final scene implies. Anyway, for no other reason, it's worth watching simply for any scene John Travolta is in. Seriously. They're all fantastic, everyone, including Tarrentino in his cameo, but the scene with JT slinking through the 50's restaraunt, taking in the sights... go see it for that 5 minute epic scene pan, and any scene he's in with Uma Thurman - and of course the scene with the gun resting on the back of the front seat I'll say no more about. That killed me.... Ok, that's it.
Paul, get back to work.
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