Memories and Family

Over at Ray's place http://brokentrails.blogspot.com/ and David Cranmer's http://davidcranmer.blogspot.com/ they've been talking about memories and searching for their family's roots. As time slips away from me, I find myself searching through the scattered files of my memory, trying to remember who I am and where I came from.

Being a writer I've managed to write down many of those memories, finding comfort in those written words when a loved one has passed away. I have photo albums with many of the old pictures, newspaper clippings, and bits and pieces of the family trees. All there waiting for my children and grandchildren to show an interest in the past or a desire to trace their family roots.

Along with all those memories, I also found my writer self. It came with the memories of my grandfather. My grandmother and grandfather had ten children, all married with children, and every summer they gathered at grandpa's to catch up on their lives, show off the newest baby, and recall their memories.

The women usually gathered around grandma's rocking chair in the living room and gossiped about babies and husbands, but the men all sat out on the front porch to out-brag each. The women's gossip didn't interest me so I would sneak out on the porch and hide under the old cobbler's bench and listened to the uncle's voices weaving stories in the dark.

As the stars and fireflies came out to twinkle, the men lit up their cigarettes, with the red ends sparkling and smoke donuts twisting off into the air the words began to flow. Laughter filled the air as they recalled childhood exploits, fond memories of people they knew, and other family get-togethers.

Grandpa's porch was my introduction to storytelling. Voices and words weaving the past into the present reminding me that my father and uncles had been children once, too. But more than that, those words were my gift, a secret treasure that I can open and spill upon blank pages in the hopes that one day my own family will wonder about me.

Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows

The grandkids are having their first snow day of the year but there's not actually any snow on the ground yet. But those fabulous weathermen, who are the only people on earth that actually get paid for being wrong, are predicting up to six inches by this afternoon. The boys are having a sunshine day with their friends at Miss Debbie's.

Halloween is just a few short days away, so the cupboard is stocked with candy for the trick or treaters, if only the adults here can resist temptation. All that chocolate just waiting for tiny teeth. Lollipop days.

Back a few years ago I wrote a micro-flash about a chocolate induced murder, the editor I submitted the piece to said that she loved the form, but her readers wouldn't understand the concept of flash. Oh, well. Over the years, I've rewritten this story several times. Right now, it stands at 1200 words with the title "Sugar Shock" and still no one wants the damn thing. One editor telling me that no woman would allow someone to treat her that way. Ha! What does HE know about mother - daughter relationships?

Writing is so much about the world the writer lives in, the things they see, and the people they know that it's hard sometimes for readers to realize that the basics of a story can be true. That the writer's job is to take that basic truth one step beyond reality, especially in the horror and crime genres.

Am I complaining because I can't find a market for this story? Not really. Over the years I've found many stories that I've written just don't fit anywhere. But the stories are there in my head and have to be written down, if only for my own satisfaction. Rainbow days for any writer is just getting the words down. You can iron out the details later.

So, what about you? Any stories flitting through your brain looking for an escape hatch, but you know in your heart that they'll never find a home? And do you write them down or just run away from them?

Today's quote is from an anonymous donor
"Easy reading is damn hard writing."

Today's ezine
The Thrilling Detective http://thrillingdetective.com

This is a site that deserves to be savored, while there's plenty of fiction on tap, the information about PI's, books and authors is simply amazing for a writer looking to learn about the mystery genre.

RIP Tony Hillerman

The word is spreading that one of mystery's greats has passed away. I've only read a few of Hillerman's books so I can't say I was a big fan, but I did enjoy his work. When you read Hillerman, you were walking through Navajo land and only by lifting your eyes from the page did the desert and mountains disappear and you'd blink your eyes and wonder where Jim Chee and Joe Leaphorn had disappeared too.

I'll leave you with a quote from Hillerman that's in his book "Talking Mysteries". After reading this, I didn't feel so guilty about playing solitare instead of writing as my mind worked through a scene.

"Most of all, I do this creating of scenes while sprawled, apparently comatose, on an old sofa in our living room, or sitting on said sofa playing a solitaire game called Spider, which requires two decks but no imagination. Thus it is absolutely impossible to tell whether I am writing or loafing. My wife always gives me the benefit of the doubt."

Rest in peace gentle giant of mysteries.

Another One Bites the Dust

DZ Allen's flash fiction site MuzzleFlash has closed down. While there are plenty of sites that take flash fiction, very few of them actually publish crime flash. For those of us who love the form, this is a very sad day.

RIP MuzzleFlash, we loved your rude, crude, in-your-face stories.

Touching on the Senses

One of the great weaknesses in my writing is remembering to use all the senses to pull readers into my story. And the five senses? Sight, smell, taste, touch, and hear. Since I write mostly flash, I usually hit sight and hear but the others fall by the wayside. Not good if you're writing longer stories which is my goal this year.

In his book "Lessons from a Lifetime of Writing", David Morrell quotes writer John Barth about using the senses in writing. "When describing something, it's important to 'keep the senses operating.' A visual detail should be intersected with one from the other senses, auditory, for instance, so that the reader will be engaged in the scene. 'This procedure may be compared to the way surveyors and navigators determine their positions by two or more compass bearings, a process known as triangulation.'"

Sounds easy enough, doesn't it? But remembering to do it is a whole other story. Just another thing to add the long rewrite list. And sometimes you wonder, why bother? If the reader can see it in their mind, why bother adding all the other stuff? Seeing is everything, right?

And then this morning I read these two sentences written by Chandler McGrew in his book "Cold Heart".

"And then they were abruptly trapped in a cave that stank of alcohol and cigarettes and overripe hormones mixed with air-conditioning and money. Tires churned hot asphalt and fan belts screeched; the cruiser dropped again and shuddered like a dog, shaking off a cold bath."

I finished reading that paragraph and just went "WOW". Would you have described a Brinks truck shoving a police cruiser into a strip joint like that? Me neither.

For me that paragraph put using all the senses into perspective.

Those two sentences are on page six of the book, you can bet your sweet ass I'm looking forward to being swallowed alive into the pages of this book.

How about you? Read any good paragraphs that really showed you how to get the writing right?

The Gift of Imagination

There's been a lot of discussion about how nobody reads anymore. That's not surprising. With TV's, computers, and assorted handheld devices, who has the time or the inclination? You actually have to sit still and engage your imagination to read. And I wonder sometimes if in our efforts to educate our children from the time they open their eyes, we haven't stolen that gift of imagination from them.

When is the last time you saw a child lying on the ground and counting elephants and castles in the clouds? Or playing in a pile of dirt and building roads and mountains? Childhood is when our imaginations take flight. Everything is new and wonderful and exciting. The senses are all engaged at hyper-speed to see how everything tastes and feels. What color is the world and what sound does it make when it breathes? Sticking a child in front of TV robs him of all that adventure.

Putting a book in a child's hand is all about his imagination. He can feel the pages, smell the ink, hear the words, and his mind can soar with those colorful characters that decorate the pages. Give a child a book and he can find his own mind. Set him in front of a TV and he's using someone else's mind to see the world.

Books put a child into another world, the world of his imagination. And what greater gift can you give a person than the gift of his own mind?

Today's quote comes from Jack London
"You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club."

Today's zine is a flash fiction site, they're also running a contest if anyone is interested. Lots of fun horror stories in the archives from authors many of you know. http://www.microhorror.com/microhorror

The World Series

The World Series starts tonight and I'm not even sure who's playing. I could do a search and find out, but the truth is, I don't really care who's playing. I've never been a sports fan, but baseball and the series brings back some fond memories.

I remember sitting in Mr. Wagner's biology class with the series game coming through the classroom loudspeaker. Teachers could have the games piped in if they chose and the men teachers usually did. Listening to the game kept the boys on their best behavior while most of the girls were bored out of their skulls. My mom, who hated sports would be sitting in front of the TV watching the series instead of fixing supper when we got home from school. And my dad would quit work early to catch the end of the game, hoping the fifty cents he dropped in the pool would win. Somehow, baseball and the World Series in particular, brought the country together, gave us all a common bond.

Baseball used to be played during the day with the heat of the sun beating down, ice cold lemonade sweating up the sides of a mason jar, and ears pressed tight to a plastic transistor radio. Baseball and summertime, they just went together.

Back then everyone knew the players names. Hell, we had Mickey Mantle and Roger Marris playing for the Yankees, while fond memories of the Babe slapped against our ears from parents who remember the early days of baseball. And those stinking upstart Mets who actually won a series. Who would have thought?

I wonder sometimes what happened to our "love of the game" that blossomed every summer with the words "Batter up." and the sound of a ball slapping leather, cheers filling the air as hitters rounded the bases and slid home. There were church leagues, little leagues, pick-up games. Everyone played baseball. God, I miss that.

Story of the day comes from writer Kate Thornton. She's a great short story writer and whenever I come across one of her stories, I take the time to read it. And I'm never disappointed. Her story is titled "The Eyes Never Change" Here's the url
http://www.mouthfullofbullets.com/2TheEyesNeverChange-KateThornton.htm

And the quote from David Morrell's "Lessons From a Lifetime of Writing"
"Don't give in to doubt. Never be discouraged if your first draft isn't what you thought it would be."