Braindead

When was the last time that you were impressed with the number of movies your friend has watched?

"I can't believe it! You've actually seen every single one of these movies? That's incredible! You are incredible."

Anyone can watch a movie. It takes two hours (four if it's directed by Peter Jackson) and all you have to do is turn off you brain and keep your eyes open.

My three-year-old is a pro. When he gets to watch a movie, you can literally see his brain go into hibernate mode. Glazed eyes. Rigor mortis. He's in the zone.

"Josiah. Josiah. Hello?"

When was the last time you were impressed with the number of books your friend has read?

"You went on vacation for a week and read twelve books? What'd you do, sit in the hotel the whole time?"

Reading is entertainment. It is enjoyable, engaging, suspenseful, transportational ( if it's not a word, it should be), and good for your brain.

That last one is the clincher.

I'm not bashing TV or movies. I'm really not. But tell me, how much brain power does it require to watch the old Tube? Seriously?

When reading, we have to recognize words, sentences, punctuation, paragraphs, and then process it all in our brain before we can conjure up a visual image of what is happening. Sure, this takes milliseconds, but our brain is still spinning and working to create those scenes.

Reading is hard work. We feel a sense of accomplishment when we finish a book because we had to think to keep track of all the characters, the plot twists, the setting. And it took us almost ten hours to finish the thing. We put it back on the shelf and smile a little.

"I read this whole book."

It feels good.

Reading is also a solitary act. You don't usually invite your friends over to read a book together. Yeah, it happens, but reading out loud is even more tiring than reading to yourself.

So finishing a book means that you have worked to process the words, you have used your brain to create visual scenes, and you have shunned the rest of the world in order to commit the necessary time to get through the pages.

Is it worth it? Why not just watch movies? I mean, when I get to the end of the day, I want to relax. I don't want to bother my synapses. They need some good R and R, know what I'm saying?

This all comes down to the question: Is it a good book?

Who wants to go to all the work and family-shunning required to get through a tome when said tome is BORING? Readers today just don't have time for it. I don't blame them. I have two kids and a lovely wife who I'd much rather spend time with than ten pages of description without even a hiccup of dialogue.

Some would cry foul. You just aren't patient enough, James. Give it a try.

Yeah. You're right. Okay, Moby Dick, let's tell the kids to go play without Daddy so I can read about the details of whale blubber.

I just mocked Moby Dick. Now I'm going to get it.

Writers today must write for today's readers. I'm writing for people like me. People in their twenties and thirties who probably have kids, or at least are attending college, or holding a job, or they are lazy bums still living with their mom, but whatever the case, they just don't have the time or energy to read a boring book.

I'm competing with Spider-Man 4, Batman 3, Avatar 2, Saw 66. If I expect to have a chance, then my books have to be engaging to the point that you forget that you are exercising your brain and ignoring your family.

You know, I could have picked an easier career to pursue. Something like a spinal surgeon, perhaps.

Fuzzy Bats

There have been a lot of books published in the last decade. There have been a lot of good books published. There have been some great ones too.

From time to time on this blog, I want to highlight some of the books published in the last decade that I've enjoyed and try to explain why I think they're better than good.

Great Read: Black by Ted Dekker

It was a daring premise that could have fallen flat on its face. I'm not talking about a guy who goes back and forth between worlds when he falls asleep; that's a sound idea in my mind. I'm talking about talking bats. The fluffy, fuzzy type.

BLACK: THE BIRTH OF EVIL: A book about cute little animals.

How did Dekker make this work? Why did it work so well that he not only wrote two more books in this universe, but later went on to write over ten books linked to this story?

Black was different. It was fantasy, but there were no elves or dwarves in sight. We saw the story through a modern day guy who was a bit of a smart aleck. He thought the fuzzy white bats were crazy, and so did we, and so it was okay. I think what made this book work so well for me wasn't the concept (which was awesome), wasn't the unique fantasy elements (which were fantastic), wasn't the political intrigue (which was intense)--no, in the end, it was Thomas Hunter.

I liked the guy. He wasn't a super hero, but neither was he a wimp. He didn't spend pages and pages gawking at this amazing new world he found himself in. He believed it. He loved it. He wanted to live it because it was real to him.

Black remains my favorite book by Ted Dekker, and holds a solid spot in my top ten favorite novels. If you haven't read it, don't let the fuzzy white bats scare you. There's plenty of not-so-fuzzy black bats to even things out.

So let's hear it: What is one of your favorite novels from the last decade?

Fear

My current work-in-progress falls into the horror genre. In the past, this has been something of a niche market--the dark little corner in the back of the bookstore where the shelves are sagging under the weight of Stephen King and Dean Koontz (who, by the way, does not belong here).

Recently however, horror as a genre seems to be disappearing. Not that horror books aren't being written--they just aren't getting stuck back in that corner. Some bookstores don't even have a horror section anymore.

Why?

I think it's because horror nowadays requires more than a scary monster and a desperate woman running for her life through the woods only to take refuge in a house that has been abandoned for a hundred years. I mean, come on. Who would ever make a horror movie with that kind of plot?

So why do people like to watch and read horror?

Simple. People like to be scared. But not just scared--they like to be safe and scared.

James, you obviously have no idea what you're talking about.

It's a theory, okay. I'm not an expert on why people like to freak themselves out. People confuse me. As my dad says: "People are some of the dumbest humans on earth."

The theory: Readers and viewers flock to horror stories because it gives them a chance to face their own fears in a safe environment where if they fail or are overcome, it won't matter. We want to be brave. We want to be strong and overcome the things that make us quiver in our flip-flops.

The thing we fear the most probably isn't that dead girl standing at the end of the hall. More likely it is the thought of revealing a secret we've kept hidden, or giving up something we know is wrong, or the fear that we will fail and lose it all.

In my opinion, good horror is much more than a haunted house and an ambling ghoul looking for revenge. Good horror pokes and prods at the deepest psychological issues that we all face. It asks questions about anger, commitment, bravery, love and faith.

Too deep? Maybe. Maybe people enjoy horror stories simply because they are suspenseful and you MUST KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT.

Maybe.

Do you read or watch horror stories? Why? What's your favorite?

Turning Pages

So I started Hold Tight last night, a novel by Harlan Coben. The man knows how to write.

I'm intrigued as to what makes a book a page-turner. I suppose it is different for everyone; what makes me stay up late at night reading might be just the thing to help you get some sleep.

I like it when my eyes can move down the page quickly. If I start to feel like Lawrence of Arabia crossing the desert just to get to the next page, I'm apt to be closing that book much sooner than later.

I'm not saying that every sentence and paragraph should be short, or that every scene should have action and high stakes, but I like things to go somewhere. More than two or three pages of character contemplation and I start to get uncomfortable. I'm moving around the couch, thinking about getting something to eat, thinking about the upcoming episode of Lost, thinking about thinking about something else besides this book.

Okay, okay, I know that characters need to have times of contemplation. There's plenty of cardboard characters out there moving from one car explosion to the next. I get it. But is it too much to ask to at least have the character doing something while he is traveling down memory lane?

James picked his nose. Yeah, that about summed up his life. Always digging for something out of reach, always getting his fingers into someplace where they didn't belong. And what had it got him? Nothing. He still had to jam that saline rinse up his nostrils and tickle his eyeballs with the spray.

If only he could go down to RiteAid and buy a saline rinse for his stinking life. Wash out some of these boogers. Some of the big nasties like Filbert Dilbert, his boss who was skating on over to his desk to tell him once again just how worthless he was.

Gross, I know. But look, this James character is thinking about how rotten his life is, but he's not just a brain in a chair. He's a dude with his finger up his nose. Nose-pickers are so much more interesting than people who pause everything to think about their life for five hundred words.

Yawn.

Harlan Coben has this figured out. His characters are always doing something, even if it's just walking across the room. I can see them thinking, talking, whatever it is. And he's good enough that he doesn't have to resort to nose picking to make his characters come alive.

Harlan Coben has me turning pages. Who has you turning pages?

Never Give Up! Never Surrender!

So the rejections rolled in this week. They were nice, they've all been nice from the beginning. Usually it's something like this: "We like what James has done here, but it just isn't quite right for us. Best of luck."

What do I do when I get REJECTED? Do I pout? Do I mope? Do I wag my head and say I'm worthless?

Well . . . maybe a little.

But then! Then I raise my fists in defiance and scream, "Never give up! Never surrender! Write to the death!"

And someday, someday when that oh so smart and good looking editor offers me a contract, I will scream, "FREEDOM!" Until I see the editorial notes on my manuscript.

I dare ya

I love to start things. I love even more to end things.

Take chapters for instance. The first line of a chapter needs to give the reader a reason to continue. Consider this opening line from chapter 27 of my WIP (Work In Progress):

"I was wrong," Patrick said.

You want to know what Patrick was wrong about, don't you? It's simple, but it's enough.

I'm certainly not an expert, but I do spend a good amount of time carefully considering how I start each chapter. I've learned from my own reading what does and doesn't work for me.

Long, drawn out paragraphs involving mostly the thoughts of the character are not very inviting to me. Openings like these can work if they are far enough into the novel that I already care about the character, but I don't want to know all the emotional and psychological problems of the character before I even know where they are, how they talk, what they're doing, and if they have nice hair or not.

Nice hair is important in a character. Bad hair is even more important.

More than starting a chapter, I like to end one. When a reader comes to the end of a chapter, they are reaching for their bookmark. It's a reasonable place to stop reading, especially if the chapter is a real long one (which they never should be, by the way--I'm just too impatient for long chapters, and so are you).

If the first line of a chapter is the bait, the last should be the hook.

"But I can't stop reading! I have to find out if they get out of their car before the semi rams into them! Also, he was about to tell her that he loved her, but now they might die before he can! And besides, the next chapter is only four pages, so I can start making dinner in five minutes. I have not been reading already for two hours."

Here's the last line of chapter 21 of my WIP:

She was carrying a gun.

Now close the book and don't read the next line. Come on, I dare ya.

What is one of the best chapter openings or endings you've ever read?

But Wait!

Being a writer is worse than being eight years old when December first rolls around. Christmas is almost here, but not. You have to wait forever. Twenty-five more days!

Two of my three completed manuscripts are out there being looked at by editors. Right now. Likely they are being used to prop up the editor's desk, or as a fire starter, or they've been tucked into a box entitled: When You Need A Good Laugh.

The iPad was just announced. It's fast. You can pull up web pages, email, calendar, contacts, games. Bing, zip, zoom, there it is.

An editor requests your manuscript: Bing, zip, zoom, here it is!

They don't respond in the first hour. Days go by. Weeks.

Months.

I've written a whole new book since they received my manuscript.

Did they even receive it?

Hey, let's be honest, editors are busier than Heaven's door man on Judgement Day. It's not like I'm the only wanna be novelist whose manuscript they're reading.

But you have to have wonder if it's a good sign when it takes so long for an editor to get back to you. It must have touched them so deeply that they are on the floor trying to recover from the emotional impact of my book! That's totally why they haven't gotten back to my agent about it yet. They can hardly even breathe, much less call and say, "Yes! Yes! Millions! Yes!!!"

Today, I'm an eight-year-old on December first.

Mile-High Slush Pile

It’s been over five years in coming, but today, finally, I signed a contract with a literary agent. When I started out on this journey I was 16. I didn’t even know that literary agents existed or that I would come to dream of signing my blood-and-sweat-creations over to one of these crucial people in the business.

My agent, Rachel Zurakowski of Books and Such Literary Agency, is a young lady with a passion for young writers and a keen appreciation and understanding of the genre I write. The cross-genre, really, since I tend to blend my stories into a smorgasbord of fantasy, sci-fi, thriller, and suspense goodness.

There is no secret password to the heart of an agent, no dance or ritual (that I know of anyway). All that is required is a great story, great writing, and a personal passion to make the absolute best book possible—even if that means cutting two or three of your favorite (and totally unnecessary) chapters. So to all of you writers out there: Stick with it! I managed to stand out in the Mile-High Slush Pile. There’s hope for you too.