March 11, 2010
On Being Someone Else
by Pam Ripling
Have you ever wished you were someone else? Even fleetingly, say, watching last weekend’s Academy Awards and wanting to wear an insanely expensive Oscar de la Renta gown? How many Americans, men and women alike, have vocally (or secretly) expressed the desire to be president? To walk in his shoes and change the course of the world?
Maybe the person you want to be is Simon Cowell on American Idol, where you could seal the fate of any number of aspiring entertainers with a well-chosen word. Or perhaps you would aspire to be a well-known historical figure: Lincoln, emancipating the slaves; Princess Diana, beloved royal and the philanthropic activist.
What do all these admired folks have in common? Why do our heroes inspire us to want to be like them, to be them if we could? Is it because they wield a sort of power that we, in our own lives, don’t have?
As much as we’d like to be JFK, Cameron Diaz or even Stephen King, as adults we understand the line between reality and wishes. But what of children, for whom make-believe is a natural, normal part of childhood development? As a precocious second or third grader, I was Lois Lane to my neighbor’s Clark Kent/Superman as we tramped around our suburban neighborhood. Sometimes, I was Supergirl. When I went home to dinner, I was myself again, knowing that tomorrow I could don my imaginary red cape. For some children, however, the switch back is not so easy.
In WHEN HARRY MET SOLI, seven-year-old Harry Wilson has just been reacquainted with the father he’s never really known. Except that young Harry, grieving the recent loss of his mother, hasn’t really moved in with his dad; Hogwarts is his new home and Harry Potter his new identity. Why? Is it that same power, mentioned above, that little Harry craves?
Who could appear more powerful to a second grader than the illustrious boy wizard? For a child who’s just lost nearly his entire sense of identity through his mother’s death, becoming Harry Potter seems like a good idea. The only problem is, Potter’s broomstick really flies.
A quick and heartfelt read, WHEN HARRY MET SOLI is a short story ebook, available from Echelon Press, Fictionwise and other on-line booksellers in a variety of formats. Download it to your Kindle, nook™, Sony or other ereader today!
Pam Ripling, who also writes as Anne Carter, is a multi-published author of mystery, romance and middle grade fiction. Visit her at Beacon Street Books.
March 10, 2010
Creating Credible Characters
When interviewed by Mary Buckham and Dianna Love for BreakIntoFiction.com, author Jane Porter had this to say about the craft of writing: “Great fiction requires great characters. Avoid stereotypes!”
That’s exactly what I tried to do when I created Dr. Ben Benjamin for the short story “Hickory, Dickory, Doc”. Given the plot and the setting, my veterinarian needed to be both an ‘insider’ and an ‘outsider’– someone who was part of the Maryland horse country crowd, but didn’t wholly belong to it — in order to be a realistic protagonist for this particular story. I also needed his status to be obvious from the start.
To accomplish this, I began my tale by introducing Ben in company with Lawrence Wainsworth III. The very name ‘Lawrence Wainsworth III’ conjures up images of landed gentry and old money. Toss in the fact that he owns a blue ribbon-winning horse named King Tut and you can pretty much figure good old Lawrence isn’t worriedabout where his next meal is coming from.
Ben is totally unlike Wainsworth when it comes to social status and monetary worth. Rather than describe the difference through a lot of background narrative, I chose to let Ben explain his position in the community in two brief but telling sentences. His comments are in response to Wainsworth’s description of an argument that occurred during a chic party at the local country club.
“Who was I to doubt Larry’s story? He’d been a ringside witness to the main event, while I, Dr. Ben Benjamin, youthful veterinarian to some of the most pampered horses in the state of Maryland, hadn’t even been invited to the Hunt Club Ball.”
Ben’s social standing is now clearly delineated for the reader; he may walk and talk with the rich and powerful, but the young vet is still considered by them to be a servant, albeit an educated one. Ben’s financial condition is likewise revealed in his own words when Wainsworth asks a favor of him.
“I hesitated only a second. Lawrence Wainsworth III was a good guy. He was also a very wealthy man. Visions of unpaid student loans danced in my head as I screwed on a smile and replied, ‘Sure, Larry.’ “
Creating credible characters is always a challenge. Often, the best way to answer that challenge is by letting the characters speak for themselves.
Mary V. Welk
March 9, 2010
Interview with Sir Reginald and Sure-foot Sam
By Lyna Zye
Writer-at-Large
PHILADELPHIA, Pa. – When I arrived at the cafe for my interview with Sure-foot Sam and his English bulldog, Sir Reginald, the canine was nibbling on a crumpet and lapping up some Earl Grey tea while his master was on his second mug of decaf coffee (Sure-foot having already spilled the first mug on his jeans).
The unlikely pair met a few years ago in Morocco when a storm over the Atlantic Ocean prevented Sure-foot from flying home to the United States and Sir Reginald from continuing to London with his then master, Lord Walter Higgins. Lord Walter suffered a fatal heart attack later that night and bequeathed his pet bulldog to Sure-foot.
Since then, Sure-foot and Sir Reginald have been inseparable.
“Reggie’s a great dog,” Sure-foot said using his nickname for Sir Reginald. (I thought I noticed the bulldog roll his eyes at the mention of the name.)
“He cleans up after himself,” Sure-foot continued as he inhaled a glazed donut, “and he’s a pro at getting Mr. Prescott to dial 911 when we need help.” He glanced down a Sir Reginald before adding quickly, “On those rare, very rare occasions.”
According to the local emergency hotline, police, fire and/or emergency medical personnel have been dispatched to Sure-foot’s apartment 19 times in the past six months for various accidents ranging from putting out a small kitchen fire (“I think I should have put the deep fryer outside before inserting the turkey and igniting it,” Sure-foot said) to helping Sure-foot down from his balcony, where he was found hanging upside down by a rope wrapped around his left ankle (“I still have no idea how that happened,” Sure-foot said).
Sure-foot is an avid adventure seeker and always takes Sir Reginald on his latest trip whether it be treasure hunting in the Amazon rainforest or mountain climbing in the Rockies.
“Does Sir Reginald like your trips as much as you do?” I asked, after seeing the bulldog shudder slightly.
“Oh, yeah,” Sure-foot said, reaching down to scratch the dog behind his ears, “Reggie loves our adventures. He’s always so eager to get home so we can start planning out next trip.”
“Speaking of which,” I said, “where is your next adventure?”
“Egypt,” Sure-foot said, reaching out to grab his mug. He knocked it over instead, and Sir Reginald dove under the table to avoid the stream of hot coffee. Oblivious, Sure-foot said: “A college buddy found a treasure map to a lost pyramid. I can’t wait to get back to Africa.”
Under the table, Sir Reginald let out a groan, and I made a mental note to schedule my vacation on another continent … just to be safe.
For more information about Sir Reginald and Sure-foot Sam, visit www.katiepasek.com.
March 5, 2010
How short can I go?
Building on the excellence of the previous post, I’ve set myself a challenge to see how short a short story I can write. Six words I discounted off-hand, that’s not for me (my latest manuscript stands at 85.000 words). Six-ty however, I can try.
Story 1: In an Egyptian marketplace
”Good woman,” the Arab boy patted my behind. “I buy her for three camels.”
My husband laughed. “What would I do with camels?”
“Camels for riding.”
“I don’t ride.”
” My sister nice Arab girl,” came the sales pitch. “You buy her for one camel.”
I don’t know what my husband did with the remaining two.
Story 2: Row for your life
Laura’s throat was dry. Her arms ached. This was hopeless. She’d never rowed before.
Robert’s face flashed before her sweaty eyes. All his fault.
One-two. One-two. How much longer? She could see was getting nowhere. Robert. Their relationship crumbled after the twins. But she’d show him.
The bell chimed. Laura climbed off the rowing machine.
Story 3: Christmas Love Story
“The tree is gorgeous!”
“Yes. The children outdid themselves,” Derek nuzzled Peggy. They’d been together – how long – seven years, and only at Christmas did he remember her charm. “Merry Christmas, love.”
Midnight had chimed.
“Meeow,” shrieked Peggy leaping onto the nearest branch.
Derek sniffed and lifted his leg to the trunk.
Story 4: Christmas Eve in South Africa
“Shhh… you hear that?”
“In the lounge! Daddy’s gun, quick!”
“He’s behind the tree, going straight for the stockings! Easy target!”
“Wait! What if this is… you know?”
“Ninny! Do you still believe in Santa?”
“No, but Mum and Dad do. “
(Speaking of South Africa and a 60.000 word story, the sales of “Murder @ Play” are going strong. Have a look here for the blurb.”)
March 4, 2010
Short, sweet, and to the point
My wife has given me the most marvelous incentive to post today. If I’m not half done in a half hour, she’ll introduce me to Mr. Baseball Bat. Has there ever been a more loving and supportive spouse?
Today we’re going to step away from the dark and the drear. I’ve tried writing dark and drear, and believe me, I suck at it. Why? Well, horror finds its power situationally, in setting and mood. It paints a room in shades of black and off-black, and then puts up a sign that says ‘You are here.’
The problem is, I don’t write situationally, I write character(al)(ly). And I like to make up my own words, too. But I do write short stories, more and more as time goes on. In the beginning the secret was comedy, or at least, an attempt at comedy, as anyone who’s read my short stories Chasing His Own Tale and Boys Will Be Boys can attest. (Assuming they’re honest.) (And kind.) And if you haven’t read those great stories, click on the links and do so. Go ahead, I’ll wait.
Dum-de-dum.
Ah, welcome back. The reason for the comedy is simple. One ball, some flippers, and a bit of skill can keep the player going for hours. Whoops, sorry, I came up with the pinball metaphor while you were gone. Comic stereotypes are like the pop bumpers, you see, and…oh, forget it. The point is, you don’t need a lot of action to make it look like a lot of action, as any politician could tell you.
Buy it here, now. It's fictionwise!
Over time, the comedy in my stories has dropped away considerably, but never completely, although there are some people (Karen) who will tell you that I’m a comic author. I’m not, really, I just have a keen sense of the absurd, and I’m very observant. Reality can be much stranger, which is why my later stories (nice segue, eh?) are much more rooted in the real and the weird. Sandi von Pier, the star of Off the Map is completely real, but let’s face it, reality TV? How real is that? I just made it…unrealer. And Ex Libris, the sort-of sequel to Off the Map (which is published in the Triangulations anthology, for those of you who clicked the link to BUY NOW and didn’t understand what you were looking at), is set in my own library, even though I don’t think the librarians there are secret commandos.
By far the least comic of all my short stories is Bite Deep, and it’s no surprise that it was the hardest to write. Of course, it didn’t help that I had to get it done in two weeks. Well, that and the fact that it tried to combine three of the world’s great mythologies into a 4000-word short story about vampires at Christmas. And succeeded, I’ll have you know!
So I guess the takeaway from all this is that writing short stories is hard work, that can be accomplished in more than one way, and that we should all try to get along because life is short and there’s no time to waste fighting each other when we could all be doing something much more pleasant like reading my books.
March 3, 2010
Fiction in a Flash
If you’re reading this blog you probably like your fiction short. Stories even shorter than those Echelon offers you are called flash fiction, and I enjoy them too.
Flash fiction is NOT a vignette. Flash fiction stories have to have all the classic story elements: protagonist, conflict, obstacles, and resolution.
Sometimes these stories are designed more to be a challenge to the writer than anything else. For example, some aim at a precise word count. Nanofictions are complete stories with at least one character and a plot that must be exactly 55 words long. A Drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.
Because of the limited word count, writers are often forced to leave some of those traditional story elements unwritten, but in the best stories they are hinted at or implied in the written storyline. That’s always the case in the most extreme flash fiction, the six-word story. How can you tell a story in six words? Here’s one by Katt Dunsmore:
“Whaddya mean, you’re gonna kill…”
*bang!*
Or try this one:
“Or was it the red wi…?”
The most famous of these, and probably the story that got the six-word story started, is credited to Ernest Hemingway. This is the ultimate example of writing tight, yet you can see the entire story. It is written in the form of a classified ad. Here are Papa Hemingway’s six stirring words:
For sale: baby shoes, never worn.
After that, my own short stories on Echelon may feel downright flabby, but I hope you’ll download them anyway.
