Showing posts with label short stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short stories. Show all posts

Monday, January 23, 2012

The First E-Cover

            The first e-cover (of three) is in rough draft form! I received it earlier today, and was elated to see what Aaron produced. I am pleased with it, so far, knowing it is a work in progress. He mentioned several changes he wants to make, but simply wanted me to see an RD copy. I admit it is strange to see my name on a book cover. I almost feel official (though not quite). I noticed a few changes to be made, but overall I am excited to view one of the three drafts he promised to produce. Already I can see his talent pouring through. He took Joseph’s picture and enhanced an already magnificent work of art.

            One of my favorite elements is the fog which hangs in the background. It adds so much to the image and helps to paint a very nice picture for the story. Colors will naturally change when the viewing device changes (different e-readers, computer, etc.), but the color scheme is brilliant. I like the eerie atmosphere the cover portrays. It will work well with the story.

            Ok, so without further delay, here is the image. Leave me a comment telling what you think of it.

Friday, January 20, 2012

Some Favorite Story Excerpts

            Today I will share with you some of my favorite literary moments as found in my writings. Below, you shall see excerpts from my writings, each labeled and encompassing what I like to think of as some of my best, and my personal favorites. Enjoy!



From Death Immortal:

I could not bear to place over such a beautiful and graceful creature a cold and demeaning stone, but at length was forced by an inner unsettledness to act. Erected above her was a marker, a tablet enshrined with the many graces of my beloved, who in life cherished all living and animated creations. I placed only one, for she alone was deceased, and my soul was still spirited, active and alive with energy, although my heart sank with a burden none other had ever felt. It was to this stone I now approached, my feet walking with a reverence only pall-bearers would recognize.



From The Man in the Window

I nearly nodded off when some inner spark became activated and enlightened within me. My eyes, blurred by fatigue and sleep, opened to the window, the tree branches and those two boys below! I stared in greater disbelief as they defiantly stood in the confines of my yard yet again. Their ruddy little faces, with eyes turned upwards, did not cease to stare directly at me. I shook at their insolence and lowered my eyes briefly to lift the strain of their gaze. When I returned, they were gone from the yard, street and all other visible locations; it was as if the two boys had sunk into the lawn itself. I trembled with fear, provocation and chills that arrived as my energy waned. I moved away from the window with as much speed as I could muster and pulled myself back into the bed. I remained there for the rest of the afternoon.



From Lost in the Fog

Just as I started to advance, I saw the same object again. It did not move, but, stationary as it was, nearly blended with the fog. My legs, at this reappearance, took to shaking slightly. I heard no sounds coming from the shape. At first I thought the image to be that of a person, one like myself who had ventured out as well. Their lack of mobility, however, alarmed me greatly. Why, I reasoned, would someone simply stand in such a location in this weather?



From The Noise From Above

            The wine seemed to dull my nerves, but at the same time sharpen an acute awareness to my dark surroundings. There was the singular ticking of a clock on the wall, the settling of the house as it was battered by the storm, the dripping of the drain in the guest bathroom in the hall. These noises were amplified by the wine and seemed to nearly deafen me. Then, as I reeled from the sharpness of the sounds, I heard above me another thud. It was loud and distinct. I knew, not from experience but from understanding of the fears within me, that an intruder had trespassed into my home via the upper level. It certainly was he who was making such noises. I could not think of what else it might be. Thoughts, some brave and others cowardly, circled in my mind. Should I dare to venture upstairs and examine the surroundings? Or should I remain idle with the hope that by so hiding it would merely vanish into the outer darkness from whither it came? I drank more wine.

From Perpetually Seven

I stared at it, regaining the state of hypnosis I had abandoned. The clock, that little device which measures the passage of time, shot its rays across the floor in so seductive a manner I could not help but be compelled to see why this particular light was still illuminated; it did not at first occur to me that the clock should have been disabled by the lack of power. I pushed myself onto the floor and crawled, like some irreverent, irrational beast, to the clock. The tint of its hue showed upon my face and my eyes, now thrilled by the color, read the clock. It read 7:00.




Wednesday, January 18, 2012

The First Meeting

            I have something to report now. You may think, you’re a writer, why not just chronicle all the exciting adventures you have while trying to get published? Ok, here’s adventure number 1: I’m at my desk, typing. Wow! Be-still my heart! Such adventure! Calm down, folks; it gets better. Adventure number two: I do my laundry. Holy Shit! Someone bring me a Tylenol this is so exciting! I can’t take it. Hang on, we’re not finished. Adventure number three: I watch Youtube. I’m breathless with anticipation! What thrills, chills and all that! How does one have such exploits? I’m a writer, not Dr. Jones. Yes, I could simply have made stuff up for your amusement: I was kidnapped by Afghan extremists, and the only ransom I had were the royalties from my unpublished novel. How’s that? Writing is not that thrilling, I’m sorry. I only write when I have something to say. Let’s hope things pick up soon, so I will have more to share with you, other than what I have now.

            Alright, I had the meeting with Aaron and Joe. Joseph Sheehan you have met already. Aaron Voebel is an old friend, and a brilliant webpage designer. He has taken on the task of cover designer. We had our pizza and discussed the designs and photos for upcoming projects. You may have heard me mention the story The Witch House; it will be the first to appear with the new cover designed by Aaron. Joe selected a perfect shot of a house, then photoshoped it a little to make it “just right.” We all agreed that both Joe and Aaron need to read the stories first in order to get a feel for what the picture and cover should look like. What they create will not only be a cover, but a piece of art. That is the goal.

On the side, the restaurant was very nice, and the waitress probably thought I was crazy. Every time she came over, I was either talking about beheadings or deaths or any number of maddening things (we were discussing my stories). She never stayed at out table for long. It was a very good and very fruitful discussion, and now I am expecting to receive proofs by Sunday! That is very exciting. Once I have one image set, I will share it with you first.

I hold both Aaron and Joe in high esteem. They seem to be masters at their work, and know how to wield their artistic powers mightily. I know the work will take some time to confirm and solidify, but I am certain the finished product will be both eye-catching and amazing.

I am hoping this endeavor of mine will allow both of these men to exhibit their skills and gain recognition for their respective businesses. As I stated last night, I do not hope to be the only one making money off this effort; my hope is that we all will share in the financial abundance that could follow such an endeavor.

Alright, I’m leaving for now. Being a writer is just too exciting for me right now. Check out my works at bn.com. Thanks for reading.

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Not in the Mood

            As a writer, you have your high and low moments, much like anything in life. Today, for some reason, seems to be one of those low moments; I don’t know why, but today simply is. It happens, just like that scene from Forrest Gump, where he stepped in a pile of shit. What did he say? “It happens.” Maybe I sat in a pile today; I don’t know. Anyhow, welcome to the writer’s mind, where we second guess our work, overly criticize ourselves and doubt our future success. I said I would share everything with you on this journey, and I was not lying. This is what I am facing now.

            My mood has kept me from writing much today, although I have had the time to do so. I think about the story a lot and miss working on it, although I can’t bring myself to produce any pages. I took my walk earlier and found my mind drifting to other reveries. Today I am simply not in it. Oh, well. This will pass soon.

            On a happier note, my sales have increased on bn.com. Each of my stories have sold nicely (here’s hoping they will continue to rise). If you have any friends who like horror stories, do send them to bn.com, and tell them to search my name, Robert Perry. You can also send them to my blog, where I have all the necessary links posted. Word of mouth is always integral to any business; I would greatly appreciate your passing my name along. If I’m successful, I’ll even name my kid after you. Anything is better than some of the stupid ass names the movie/rock stars come up with. Tu Morrow? Really?! Apple?! Honestly, people! What happened to names like Chuck, Bob and Jennifer?  Why not just give them names like Trunk Lid and Sweat Pants! Or better yet, a number: 24601. Good God! See why I don’t read the news!

            Alright, I’m focused again. Everything’s good; everything’s happy. Pretty sunset, palm tree in the yard, etc. etc. etc. I have enough work to keep me busy for the next few weeks, months even, so the ideas have come to a halt. It’s a good thing, I believe, as too many story thoughts end up pushing each other to the side. Let’s just get through the few I have now, and focus on new ones later.

            I hope everyone had a nice holiday. The New Year is approaching; please don’t do anything stupid. Alcohol and fireworks do not play nicely together. I read once of a guy who, after indulging in “the drink,” tried to light a rocket fuse by holding a match to his backside and, well, use your imagination. I think he died.

            I’ll leave you on that happy note. Thanks for reading!

           

             

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Rob Complaining About Time

            The problem with writing is that there is never enough time to complete the things you want to accomplish. Sounds a lot like life? Well, yes, it does. The only difference, however, is that you engage in life full-time, while most of us only write part-time. I have not worked these past two days, and all I can show for my productivity is a blog (plus this one) and three pages of text. It is difficult to ever get a good length of time to write when so many things need to be accomplished. When I am home, I find I work around the house first, then engage in my writing last. It’s always on the bottom of the list for me, because for some reason I consider it “leisure time” and not an actual occupation. Take today, for instance: I worked over my menu for Christmas Day, cleaned and worked some in the yard. The laundry is being washed and I tried to set up a pull-up bar, all things that need to be finished. But what of my writing? Oh, that just gets pushed to the side, kicked in the ass and shoved into a corner.

            Writing is not easy, especially since you have to fit in into your social time. No one goes to an office to write their novel for 8 hours a day. That would be ideal, but such things do not happen for would-be writers. Once you are published and you make a name for yourself, then you can quit work and set your sights on writing full time. That is my long term goal; I don’t see it happening anytime soon, but it is a goal nonetheless.

            My major challenge is always time; I never have a stretch of time to devote to my writings. I blame no one. It’s my fault that I don’t put greater importance on my writings. Perhaps I don’t value my writings? I don’t know. This is certainly something that needs exploration. If you are going to write, it should be paramount in your life, not just something you do for the hell of it (unless, that makes you happy).

            Well, I hope you have enjoyed my first bitch fest. No doubt there will be plenty more to come in the future. On a happy note, the ideas I have floating around in my head for future works are all taking shape nicely. I am going to record one now and start ‘pushing it around’ a little.

            Thanks for reading…..

Monday, December 19, 2011

First Update: Mommy's Gone Crazy

            For those of you just joining us, my name is Robert Perry, and I am a writer of general and psychological horror. My goal for this blog is to record and illustrate for you my journey to publication. As I said in my first blog, you are welcome to laugh at my mishaps and rejections; I will always try to make this as funny as possible, as no one wants to read boring crap. Feel free to check out my facebook page and follow along on twitter. That being said, on with the show.

            I’m taking a break from writing “Mommy’s Gone Crazy” to scribble out this blog. I’ve been working on it for most of the day, and it’s coming along fairly well, though I can’t seem to get into it. Some stories explode from the mind, while others seem to poke along at an ass-dragging pace. This work has a bit of a different style than most of my previous works. I usually begin with a very reflective opening, then proceed into a bit of an existential story where all the emotions are severely heightened. This story begins very quickly and stays at that pace. I’m always open to new things, so I will see how it does.

            If you are not familiar with the story, or have missed me running my mouth about it, this work deals with a character who must save his daughter from her crazed mother, who is also trying to kill her. He goes to rescue her and finds that the house has no power, and strangely enough, an unlocked and slightly opened front door. Will he get to his little girl in time? Or will Mommy have other plans?

            I’ve sold a few more stories; so now I won’t have to show up empty handed on Christmas day. Thanks. I’ve also made a few more contacts in the writing world. Life, it seems, is about contacts and all the people you know. Remember that when applying for a job. It’s who you know, not what you know. You could be the Queen of England or the King of Rock n Roll, and it won’t matter; know people, and you’ll do well. I know few people, so right now I suck. Oh, well. Keep at it, right?

            Keep checking back with the bn.com site, as more of my stories will be coming on line. As soon as the images are ready, I’ll post them. Remember to look for the horror stories under the name of Robert Perry. Please don’t purchase the barn story thinking it is mine: it’s not, and I get no revenue from it! No barns!

            We were out of town this past weekend, and were able to take some awesome pictures for the FB page. The area was Jekyll Island, and we got some really nice shots. Look for them to appear soon on the facebook page.

            Alright, I need to get back to work.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Story Ideas

            I am definitely in writing mode now, as the story ideas are flowing once again. I took my walk this morning and worked through several. I keep a book of ideas in my desk, where I jot down whatever comes to mind on a certain story. Those random thoughts usually form into a strong storyline, or at least that is the goal. I finished working through “Mommy’s Gone Crazy” this morning, and have yet another story to add to the book. You may not know it yet, but I wrote a full-length novel a few years ago (can’t believe it’s been years since I finished it!). The book I wrote is actually the middle work, out of three. There is also a sequel and a prequel. It is the prequel I am concerned with now, and the painter in the story. Like “Mommy,” this short story is another exploratory work where I can get to collaborate with and get to know the character in the setting. I have to structure it first, and hopefully in two months, I can start construction of it.

             The new storylines are exciting to me. Each one is coming together nicely and introducing themselves rather cordially. I have spent a lot of time working on my platform, much to the chagrin of my characters. It is nice to be ‘back in the saddle,’ with my pen (keyboard) in my hand, and a paper (screen) before me once again. My friends have missed me, and I them. I hope to get the first short story completed soon; I will then move onto the succubus project. I said that yesterday…sorry. Writers have great minds for ideas, not memories!

There has been some fruit reaped from the gothic site. I used the fruit analogy because I am dieting and feel it will help me to lose weight. If I said, “I had a shitload of cupcakes from that site,” one: it would not make any sense; and two: what the hell do cupcakes have to do with a gothic site? You see, the fruit analogy works much better. Trust me. Anyhow, some people have reached out to my blog from there. Nice.

            Ok, that is all for now. ‘Like’ my page on FB (search Robert Perry), and if you have not done so already, check out my writing at bn.com. I’m under the ebooks tab. Search Robert Oliver for those (haven’t changed my name yet). If you need to download Nook, it’s very simple, and a link is located at the right of the blog screen. It’s free and will give you access to thousands of books.

            Thanks for reading!

           

Monday, December 12, 2011

Looking the Part, Vol. 1

            I was told the other day that I “look like a writer.” I’m supposed to wear glasses; I don’t. I normally dress in black blazers, with dark colors; or vibrant, loud purples and soft lavenders. I like deep blue shirts with black ties (anything actually looks good with a black tie: free tip for you) or forest green with tan ties. Everything must flow and look sharp. My slacks are “modern fitting” (meaning they are tight as hell). Shirts are tucked in, hanging out, matched with jackets or simply worn open at the collar, showcasing my skull necklace - which I always have on. I wear a thumb ring; sometimes, two other rings on my right hand (ring and index finger), or a blue tiger-eye stone: ring finger only. I dress professionally at work, smart when going out, casual at home. So, with all this being said, why would I be told I “look like a writer?”

            First off, how the hell does a writer look, anyways? Do we walk about with pencils behind our ears and dictionaries under our arms? Do we use words like extemporaneous and interpolate when ordering lattes at Starbucks? Do we correct others’ speech, either mentally or verbally? I don’t know. Or maybe it has nothing to do with appearance; perhaps it has everything to do with action. Are we writers because we run through the woods to get a better understanding for what the branches feel like when smacking us in the face? Or because we eat and drink horrible things to comprehend just how disgusting they are, then write about it to you? Again, I don’t know.

            This has been puzzling me for a while. Now understand, I am a gothic writer. If you don’t know what Gothic literature is, hold tight: I’ll write a blog soon about it. But for starters, think Edgar A. Poe. Ok, Gothic. Right. With that out of the way, I am a Gothic writer, hence the pics in the cemetery. You hate cemeteries; I love them. You want a pet dog: I want a raven. Dark, stormy nights scare you: I thrive on them. Flowers adorn your desk: a skull sits on mine; You fear death: I…well, we’ll cover that one later.

I believe that you dress accordingly, and how you present yourself will be your appellation. Now, if you are a sports writer, don’t walk about with a helmet on all day. I don’t carry a shovel with me everywhere I go (read my stories). I don’t feel compelled to dress like anything other than what I am. So, if I dress like President Obama or the Sheik of Napoli, I’m still a writer. If I wear blue jeans and an Eagles tee, I’m still a writer. Bathing suit: same thing. Naked….never mind, you get the point.

The person was being nice. I told them I was writing, and they spoke the line. If I had told them I was in training to be a space shuttle pilot on the manned mission to Mars, they would have said I looked like an astronaut. This is how it rolls for me. All I can say is read my works, then you will know I am a writer.

I really don’t care what I look like (big lie; actually, I put a lot of emphasis on my appearance, but you get the idea). I don’t want to look like a writer: I want to be a writer! And I am one, published or not. Dress is only secondary, though the aesthetics may help.

Briefly, all is well. I am gearing up for another project and some editing of Bleodsian. I have a short story/novella combo I want to work on, the short story coming first; but not before I work on “Mommy’s Gone Crazy.” I think you all will enjoy it. Look for it soon.

I have almost forty ‘likes’ on my page. Please tell your friends, neighbors, and anyone you can trap in the elevator to look at and like my page. I’d appreciate it. Also, follow me on twitter and check out my works at bn.com. All links are posted on the blog page.

Thanks for reading.

Friday, December 2, 2011

An Introduction to Bleodsian

            I started Bleodsian two years ago, and the work has taken so much of my time to bring it to completion. It is, however, nearly ready for the web, with the exception of some minor “touch-ups.” Working on a project for such a length of time can be wearisome, and this one had its moments. I will say, however, that when I got to the end, the whole episode sped up quickly and the ending came out wonderfully. When you all get a chance to read it, I would love to hear the feedback.

            The story is about a middle-aged man who is diagnosed with a rare blood disorder which turns out to be fatal. With the aid of a voice only he can hear, a voice which nearly commands him, he sets out on a course to restore his health with a “plan” devised by the sinister voice. The question arises, to what lengths would you go to restore your health? Another question, and paramount in the story, is what is our relationship to nature and the entire natural world? And what is death in relation to everything? Should something die in order for something else to live? Ponder these, as Mr. Cacciare did.

            I am anxious to post it on bn.com and can’t wait to hear what everyone says about it. There is a definite shock factor to the story, one which will hopefully raise questions for everyone to think over. I am not trying to change society with the tale; merely, I am trying to help us think through our own existence and how we correspond to the natural world around us. Look for it soon.

            That’s all for now. I will post more on Bleodsian as the web-publication date draws nearer. Check out my stories this weekend and find me on twitter, where I post updates on my writing career.

            Thanks for reading…..

Friday, July 1, 2011

Favorite Story Excerpts 2

            The first time I posted some of my favorite story excerpts, it was met with great enthusiasm, so I figured I would send some memorable moments your way once again. This time, however, I am more selective of what I reveal. The excerpts below are not only from my stories, but they are some of my favorite “bizarre and scary moments.” So, here we go. Enjoy and happy reading!
From Beyond the Window
The creature, tall with pale skin, had elongated limbs of uncommon proportion to its body. Its head was without hair. I could detect an odd amount of fingers on each had, and each of those with longer nails or talons than is customary on terrestrial creatures. I gripped the windowsill tightly as the thing stared at me through the thick darkness separating us. I do not recall now what ran through my mind, although I knew the flurry of thoughts were all dominated by the stern cowl of the thing. 
From The Expense of Ill Judgment
  I was nearly finished packing down the earth when a noise from behind startled me greatly. I tried to ignore it for fear of not finishing the task, but it persisted and when I turned, I found, before my eyes, the greatest gathering of the deceased that had ever congregated upon the soil of the living!
            I watched in horror as they each took partners and danced to music, ungodly music that I now heard so clearly! The song reverberated through the yard as the decayed bodies swayed to the notes in the most elaborate of manners. I shrieked aloud when they came near and brushed against me.


From Death Immortal
I surveyed the sight through the surrounding mist and recognized something unfamiliar; there was beside her tomb an object that few could disregard so easily as anything other than a stone. I could see hers plainly, but the second one I could not read as skillfully. I moved within view and bent low to read the inscription. The light of a match gave me just enough illumination to instill in my heart a fear uncanny and more surreal than all the greatest terrors combined. Upon the stone, I read the dates of the person: one vague and unmentionable, yet the other, oh that other date, I read with a power only fear materialized could wield. The second date was from a year ago this evening, the same night my beloved parted with the active strains of life. Then I looked with panic upon my face, at the name who so boldly drew their lot beside my beloved. There, written in a cursive I alone knew, was the name of my wife’s beloved, of her companion in life, and now in death. The name was mine. Truly, I had followed my wife to the grave!
 From An Unbinding Tie
When I slowly turned over, I saw through the darkness two images, one of my girl, and the other, some unrecognizable mass upon her. A sliver of the moon sliced through the curtains to give a shallow radiance to the scene. She was staring wide-eyed at the bristling hair and lowered ears of the beast, whose growl was growing more menacing and more terrible. The light caught its arresting eyes, droplets of darkness which no human could ever suffer to endure. They were as black as the vacant tomb, black as the soul which once burned with passion. Empty and void of life, they were animated by another source, another strength which emanated from the realm beyond.
I hope you have enjoyed this little sampling. They are some of my favorite moments, and I hold each of them dearly. On the right of the page is a link to my PubIt site, if you care to purchase any of these and help stimulate the economy (An Unbinding Tie is not yet released). If you have any stories to share, or wish to express any sentiments concerning these, feel free to leave a comment and I will get back with you.
As always, good luck writing.

Friday, June 17, 2011

Work Update 3

            It has been a while since I last posted and I have a lot going on, so I thought I would update you all on the latest projects. I have three underway right now; the first is the novella. I have completed it and revised it once. It needs two more readings, then it will be ready for submission. I think I have found a suitable publisher in Arkham, the same publisher which handled H.P. Lovecraft’s works. If you have not read him yet, do check him out. His work is great. The Novella came off really well, and I am pleased with it thus far. I have two short stories I am working on as well. The first is one which I have been working through for some time. It is the story about the departed lover who leaves her dog to her boyfriend. When he meets a new girl, the dog begins to act in bizarre behavior. The second is a 25 page work dealing with the traumatic story of a young girl, the Newsalem Witch! It was my first endeavor writing about a female lead, and I think it came across pretty well. It was also a first in that it was a “story within a story.” A young hiker, the main character, finds the lady’s journal and reads of her tragedy. I am pleased with it as well, and look forward to seeing it completed. The latter two will be on PubIt soon; I will let you know when. 

            Aside from these very active projects, I have some ideas mulling around in my mind. I will not share them now; sorry, I guard them jealously. Once I can get these out of the way, I want to put some attention toward the novella again and get it ready for its little flight to neverland (it’s probably where it will end up). I am also torturing myself by reading the Barnes and Noble unabridged version of Moby Dick. I thought it would be a good adventure book, but I have learned more about the color white and ropes than I have about the damned whale! It is a bit of a joke now around the house, and if the book were not on my electronic reader, I should have returned it to the ocean from whence it came! Oh well. Happy reading to me.

            That is all for now. I will give some details about the two works when I get them completed and before I put them up for sale. It has been busy here, and I am trying to get adjusted to the new summer schedule. Once I can fully embrace the summer months, I will start to crank out more blogs, perhaps two a week (not that anyone reads them, Hah!)

            As always, good luck writing.

Monday, March 21, 2011

Work Update 2

            I am very busy now! Perhaps that exclamation will make my point. My apologies for my recent absence, but the fact is I have had little free time since beginning my new occupation at work. I will indulge your curiosity for a moment and share a brief segment of my life before moving onto my work update.

            You might remember that I am employed in the food and beverage field, and was formerly the evening shift supervisor of a Starbucks Coffee Shop on an academic campus in Central Florida. I worked the job until two weeks ago, when the supervisory position in the Catering Department became available. Management was very encouraging, and I decided to take the position. I have been retail since I began working at the campus; now, I am in a totally new field, with new hours (a positive change), and a lot of responsibility. In fact, to make my point, tomorrow I will be preparing a breakfast for the university president and some guests. It is an exciting move, and I stand to gain a lot from it. It has been a good week in the new field so far and I am enjoying it immensely. There are items and people in the coffee shop I miss, but the transition has, overall, been a very positive one for me. I am now home most evenings with my wife (as opposed to working 6 pm-3 am every night) and I have a wonderful manager and crew with which to work.

            Now, I have said the above to point out that my new position leaves me little time to engage in blog writing. My wife is my first priority in the evening, so I write and research when time allows. I have been a week in the job, so hopefully I will begin to learn to use the new schedule to my advantage, as I still desire to keep my writing career going. That being said, onto the update.

            I spent most of today working on the novella, and am pleased to say I have finally gotten through the first draft! It was a bit of a pain, as the first read-through was extensive, but it came out well. Only two more edits and it is finished. I am pleased so far with the story and its outline, pace and style; only a few more critiques and it will be near perfect.

            You are reading my blog, so it means I was successful in creating it today. On my list are this blog and my short story, The Unbinding Tie, which I am currently editing. It is my hope to have this posted and the story completed soon. There do no seem to be many corrections as of yet (that frightens me!), but it is coming along nicely.

            As far as ideas go, I have one project I will begin shortly. This one is a short story about a hiker who ventures off trail into the old, abandoned house of the supposed town witch. Once inside, he finds and reads from a book she wrote about her own life and experiences with the judgmental townspeople. It has been rattling around in my cranium for a long while now, and demands attention. I hope to begin work on it in the next few days, time permitting. I am excited about the story’s prospects, as I feel it is going to be a good one for me. It will be nice to get it underway.

            Well, that is all for now. Wish me luck with my new endeavors, and as always, good luck writing!

Saturday, March 5, 2011

On Writing a Short Story

            In a conversation with a co-worker the other day, she told me she was going to submit a short work of fiction for a writing scholarship competition. Having only worked on a novel, she was unfamiliar with short story writing. I realized then not all writers are familiar with writing shorter works. In this blog I will give some pointers on how to write a good work of shorter length.

            The short story has been around for centuries. Some writers utilized the medium extensively, like Poe, Hawthorne and London, and some had their stories broken down into smaller bits for publication in newspapers, like the French writer Dumas. Short works are best described as works long enough to give ample definition to emotions and settings, as well as plot, but short enough to read in a single sitting. I personally love the style and approach of a short story; it gives me room to move artistically, but also keeps me focused on the story, as I do not have too much space for frivolous material. A short story keeps you to the point.

            There are a few basic tips to follow when constructing a shorter work, tips I shall detail below. First, and I believe most importantly, write in the here and now. You all know my flare for existential writing; write in the now. Of all my stories, only a few actually progress through time. The remainder of my tales all take place in the moment. Writing in such a manner allows for further emphasis on the emotions of the moment, and the moment itself. It presents a powerful piece in which the feelings and atmosphere become the actual characters, [see my blog on existential writing]. Try the style. Some writers may prefer to have a general progression of time, while others may find they like the approach. I feel I would be utterly lost without this method.

            Second, keep your characters few in number. A short story cannot have dozens of characters, each with their own plots and subplots. If such is your story, please write a novel. My stories have one, perhaps two characters at best. The Man in the Window had only the main character with the two boys appearing only as part of the backdrop. In many of my tales, there is but one character, and only one. This also helps to tie into the theme of existentialism; too many people in the story illustrate too many themes and too much emphasis on time.

            Thirdly, write a simple plot. You need not re-create the Count of Monte Cristo or A Tale of Two Cities in short fiction form. It is a short work: let the plot be short and simple. In Perpetually Seven the main character is driven mad by the loss of time; the same is true of The Noise from Above, where the character thinks he hears someone moving around in the second story of his home. Take a single incident and construct it on paper, letting the scene speak for itself. Don’t worry about background information. It is sometimes unique and neat to be dropped into the middle of a situation. The scene will reveal itself over the course of the story, so don’t worry about that.

            Finally, pace yourself. When writing a novel, writers pace themselves for a long haul or run; with short fiction, pace yourself for a sprint. Know and remind yourself constantly that the work will be a short one. Not all problems need to be handled and corrected in the lives of your characters in the story. Let some issues slide by in an effort to run your sprint with ease.

            If you do feel compelled to use time in your story (I did with Unbinding Tie and The Man in the Window), try to keep it simple. I have found that using such phrases as “After a week,” or  simply, “with the passage of days…” helps greatly to create the illusion of passing time, without having to progress through each day and encumbering your story with needless details. It is not my point, however, to erase all descriptions and details from the work. That is certainly not my intent. If you have read any of my tales, you will find very descriptive paragraphs. You need only to eradicate what is not necessary.

            So, there you are. Now, sit before your computer and belt out one of those stories. Not that easy? Well, you are correct. As always, let the story speak to you. Short or not, the story has a tale to tell, and it will let you know when it is ready. Be alert and ready when it calls, and use these tips to craft an excellent work.

            As always, good luck writing!

Monday, February 28, 2011

The Story Behind the Story

            Part of my fascination with movies is not their script, their acting, but rather, how the movie was made. I recall sitting for hours watching the “making of" specials when a blockbuster movie would premier. What struck me was the magic behind the screen and the way the idea took shape. I especially liked the discussions on how the whole project started. Sometimes it was a mutual collaboration between producers and directors on a patio in LA, or over a cocktail in New York. No matter where, the story behind the story is always amusing. In this work, I wish to share with you all some of the little known stories behind my works. Like the movies, each has a unique beginning and may help the reader to understand the work a little better. Here they are:

Lost in the Fog
            Lost in the Fog has its origins a little over a year ago at Christmas, when we were visiting my wife’s family in Virginia. It was the night before we were to travel home, and it was exceptionally foggy out. In the dense mist, my mind began to wander, and perhaps wonder at the setting in which I found myself. Save for the actual fog on their road, all else came from the vaults of my mind.

Death Immortal
            I was the only one of my family to hike up a steep, nay, very steep hillside to see an old family cemetery located in the Cataloochie area of the Great Smokey Mountains National Park. It was small and picturesque, sitting like a sentry upon the apex. Here lies the inspiration for Death Immortal.

Perpetually Seven
            In the final year of graduate study, a small group of us took a religiously oriented trip to China. While there, I became sick with some illness and was immobilized one evening at the hostel. I recall lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling. My roommate, Josh, was unpacking some items from his bag. I asked him what time it was. He responded, “Seven.” Content, I drifted off. When I opened my eyes, I again asked him what time it was. He replied, “Seven,” again. I had thought myself asleep for some time, but found I was wrong. The story then took shape from there. I wrote it when I got home.

The Man in the Window
            There is no particularly interesting story behind this one save for its intimate connection with the swine flu which attacked the world a year ago, in September of 2010. I wanted to write a piece which would be set in a cultural incident, and the flu presented me with the perfect situation.

The Expense of Ill Judgment
            Not yet released, this story has its origins in a stroll around the cemetery and historic chapel at historic Jamestown, in Virginia. I even lifted the chapel and dropped it in the story, allowing it to make a cameo appearance. It was my ‘thank you’ to the building.

The Nursing Attendant
            My only full-length novel (not yet released), this work has perhaps the best origin, second only to Perpetually Seven. The story began life not as a novel in the works, but as a short work of fiction. I wanted to create a short tale where a nursing attendant took residence in a home with an invalid and a madman, who then tries to blame the girl for all the terror he enacts. The story changed drastically as the characters began to speak loudly. The madman became the honest Robert Latoure, and the innocent nursing attendant became, well, Caroline Asher. I won’t give away the story here, but suffice it to say it became an amazing work with psychological monsters, witchcraft and the waking dead! 232 pages in all, I began writing it in room 310 in Graves Hall, and ended down the hall in the Resident Director’s apartment.

            I hope you enjoyed these little stories, the tale behind the story. Every work as an amazing set of circumstances behind the pages; the next time you read an awesome work, stop and think for a moment about what went into the novel or short work, and what brought the idea to the forefront. Knowing the story behind the story can be wonderful.

As always, good luck writing.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Favorite Story Excerpts

            Today I will share with you some of my favorite literary moments as found in my writings. Below, you shall see excerpts from my writings, each labeled and encompassing what I like to think of as some of my best, and my personal favorites. Enjoy!

From Death Immortal:
I could not bear to place over such a beautiful and graceful creature a cold and demeaning stone, but at length was forced by an inner unsettledness to act. Erected above her was a marker, a tablet enshrined with the many graces of my beloved, who in life cherished all living and animated creations. I placed only one, for she alone was deceased, and my soul was still spirited, active and alive with energy, although my heart sank with a burden none other had ever felt. It was to this stone I now approached, my feet walking with a reverence only pall-bearers would recognize.

From The Man in the Window
I nearly nodded off when some inner spark became activated and enlightened within me. My eyes, blurred by fatigue and sleep, opened to the window, the tree branches and those two boys below! I stared in greater disbelief as they defiantly stood in the confines of my yard yet again. Their ruddy little faces, with eyes turned upwards, did not cease to stare directly at me. I shook at their insolence and lowered my eyes briefly to lift the strain of their gaze. When I returned, they were gone from the yard, street and all other visible locations; it was as if the two boys had sunk into the lawn itself. I trembled with fear, provocation and chills that arrived as my energy waned. I moved away from the window with as much speed as I could muster and pulled myself back into the bed. I remained there for the rest of the afternoon.

From Lost in the Fog
Just as I started to advance, I saw the same object again. It did not move, but, stationary as it was, nearly blended with the fog. My legs, at this reappearance, took to shaking slightly. I heard no sounds coming from the shape. At first I thought the image to be that of a person, one like myself who had ventured out as well. Their lack of mobility, however, alarmed me greatly. Why, I reasoned, would someone simply stand in such a location in this weather?

From The Noise From Above
            The wine seemed to dull my nerves, but at the same time sharpen an acute awareness to my dark surroundings. There was the singular ticking of a clock on the wall, the settling of the house as it was battered by the storm, the dripping of the drain in the guest bathroom in the hall. These noises were amplified by the wine and seemed to nearly deafen me. Then, as I reeled from the sharpness of the sounds, I heard above me another thud. It was loud and distinct. I knew, not from experience but from understanding of the fears within me, that an intruder had trespassed into my home via the upper level. It certainly was he who was making such noises. I could not think of what else it might be. Thoughts, some brave and others cowardly, circled in my mind. Should I dare to venture upstairs and examine the surroundings? Or should I remain idle with the hope that by so hiding it would merely vanish into the outer darkness from whither it came? I drank more wine.

From Perpetually Seven
I stared at it, regaining the state of hypnosis I had abandoned. The clock, that little device which measures the passage of time, shot its rays across the floor in so seductive a manner I could not help but be compelled to see why this particular light was still illuminated; it did not at first occur to me that the clock should have been disabled by the lack of power. I pushed myself onto the floor and crawled, like some irreverent, irrational beast, to the clock. The tint of its hue showed upon my face and my eyes, now thrilled by the color, read the clock. It read 7:00.


Thursday, December 30, 2010

A New Endeavor

This is my first blog, my first attempt at putting my thoughts into an electronic format. Many have written their ideas and notions, and even shared intimate pieces of themselves upon the illusory fabric of the internet; it is not my design to do such. I have but one major goal with this endeavor: to establish a creative writing source for authors.

I have been writing for a few years now and have completed one novel (it is one of three), one novella, and over a hundred pages of short stories. I write in a manner worthy of Edgar Allan Poe, perhaps the greatest mentor a young writer can have. Like every student, I have taken the style of Poe and blended it with my own style to create what I like to think of as psychological horror. I may write about ghosts and monsters, but the idea behind the story is ‘what is most believable.’ Is there truly a ghost in the next room, or has the deeper recesses of the mind conjured some image and placed it in the shadows, thus creating the ghost? I love the constant battle between the logical and the illogical, the natural and supernatural. These themes you will find replete within my writings.

I am a young man, though my age has little bearing on this work; I have lived long enough and experienced enough of the good and bad of human creation to truly rationalize a story which epitomizes the human experiment, as I loving refer to it. I have also acquired enough of a skill in writing, a skill I am now prepared to share with the public. I make no claims to be any master of the art; I am a humble student who merely wishes to share his thoughts and ideas on certain writing issues. I have thought of a few good topics thus far, ranging from character development to writing location. There are many topics swirling in my mind, and if you care to read them I am more than willing to bequeath them to you.

Fear not, reader, as this is not entirely a boring academic resource filled with saw-dust like tidbits and unpalatable delicacies. I have a strong interest in reading, wine and cooking. I will occasionally share with you some of my adventures in the kitchen and wine world. I may, if the ghosts are moving and the suns all align, even share a personal story or day with you. As the Count of Monte Cristo once said, “wait and hope.”

I suppose this is sufficient for now. Enjoy and happy writing.