Tuesday, August 19, 2014

A Whatever of One's Own

“A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.” 
― Virginia WoolfA Room of One's Own



Dear Ms. Woolf,

Thanks for that. But I'm not a woman. I guess maybe you're figuring guys have it easier, like we can just have Jeeves drive us down to the club on the Thames and all, but it doesn't work like that for me.

Also, we don't have room at the house to give me a room of my own to write. I mean, sure, I could take over the guest room, but then people would be looking at all my stuff. And probably touching whatever map I put up on the wall.

And then if I wanted to write while we had company, then what? Tell them to wake up and go downstairs because I need to write? I mean, I guess I could just write at the kitchen table on those days.

I could get a trailer, like Alan Heathcock has. That 1967 Roadrunner the cops used.

http://writeplacewritetime.tumblr.com/
But that's got to set you back a few grand, huh? And I'm pretty sure our neighborhood covenants would keep me from that. Still. a trailer or outside shed would be kinda cool. People have writing sheds, which seem like good ideas. They build them up or convert old garden sheds. I know many of you old timers did that, and folks are still at it. Check this out. So, yeah, that would be nice, if we had world enough and time, as that creepy old guy said in that poem.

Anyway, I've carved out my own room, and here's what I do. I carve out the space in my head.

First, I've set aside a specific time day to write. This helps. I write first thing in the morning. Some folks write late at night. Some on their lunch breaks. As we say when some asshole, talentless writer friend gets a big movie deal or six-figure, Big Five deal -- good for them. I mean, that's great. Whatever.

But for me, writing before the day starts is key. I don't have anything left after work. And, this is pretty cool, my body adjusts to this. I fall asleep knowing that the first thing I'm going to do when I get up is write. So my brain starts kicking around ideas in the darkness.I'm not thinking about work or leaky faucets (unless I have to pee, Haha!)

I also carve out room in my ears. I've been listening to David Lynch's Big Dream, which puts me right in the mood. There's the soundtrack to The Red Violin, which is a good backup. I need kinda ambient, background, mostly wordless music. Sets the mood and gets the brain working. They did this study about how kids who listen to music while studying do much better on tests if they can listen to the same music when taking the tests. I mean, it makes sense, as your brain is connecting stuff in ways you can't imagine, all the time. Of course, look who I'm talking to, You know this. Anyway, the music helps put me in that writing zone.

So that's my room for writing. The timing and the music. I figure other people have stuff, like maybe a certain pen or a talisman of some sort on the desk. For me, the room is all in my head. Then again, what isn't?

Hugs,
Steve Weddle

PS -- If you're in the good place, say "hey" to Oscar Wilde and tell him we all think he's awesome and Tom Stoppard has stopped borrowing all his jokes and is doing great stuff. And if you're in the bad place, tell Emily Bronte she sucks and no one reads her shitty book anymore.

Monday, August 18, 2014

The largest and the smallest books in my collection

Just for fun I thought I'd post a picture pairing the largest and the smallest books in my collection.

The dictionary is 1 3/4" x 2" and Anomaly is 15" x 10". That's a huge difference.

How about you? Any big or small books in your collection?

Saturday, August 16, 2014

Don't Forget to Exercise

by
Scott D. Parker

This week at the day job, I was tasked with creating a safety moment for the regular staff meeting. Usually the safety moments are related to the subject of the day job – – oil and gas – – but we in the office have our own specific safety moments. You would think office workers need to focus on safety, but we do. It's a nice cultural mindset that keeps everybody looking out for each other. What I ended up choosing was how to maintain healthy practices while working a nine-hour day in front of the comptuer.

Now no matter how each one of us gets words strung together to make sentences and paragraphs, we are all looking at our work up close. A large majority of us, I think, are probably working on our computers. Eyestrain is a very real and big problem. It can cause dryness, headaches, and after a while, your eyes begin to lose their muscular ability to focus. Which is why it is important to give your eyes a rest every now and then.

One of the more recent discoveries in the scientific community is something called the 20 – 20 – 20 rule. In short it goes something like this: every 20 minutes or so, look at something that is at least 20 feet away, for at least 20 seconds. What this does is relax the eye-focusing muscles when they look at something in the distance. Whenever we look at something up close, the muscles used in her eyes to focus work harder and longer.

I've mentioned before that at my day job, I take regular, hourly breaks. During these breaks, I walk the interior atrium circuit as fast as possible. I am now wearing a Fitbit Flex so I am able to track my steps each day. These "laps," as some of my co-workers call them, allow me to reach my 10,000 step goals every day. Why I bring this up is that when I'm not looking at my iPod touch and writing on my current work in progress (yes, I really do that), I am relaxing my eyes by looking down the four stories inside the atrium at the plants or a passing person. Additionally, I step outside at least once a day and gaze off in the distance as far as possible to rest my eyes.

It goes without saying that whether you are a professional writer or an office professional with a day job where yoyu work in front of the computer, another thing that everyone has to do is get up and move. It's too easy to sit in front of our computers and type all day long without a break. For someone with a day job like mine, breaks are ways to realign and refocus on the task at hand. Same is true for full-time writers. Now I know from experience that when something exciting is happening in the my story, I go with the flow and see the scene to the end. But as soon as that exciting scene is finished, I get up and walk around. It's not enough really to just stand. You actually have to stand and move and stretch while you walk. Walk a brisk five minute "lap" or do some other physical activity that will get your blood flowing. I can attest from experience that a short five minute break with fast walking makes me more focused, and more attuned to the task at hand whether that be my day job or the work in progress when I'm writing at home at 5 o'clock in the morning.

The last thing that I do at my day job is that I make sure that I eat snacks regularly throughout the day to maintain a consistent energy level. And I make sure that those snacks are healthy snacks. I've gone from a work–from–home experience to a day job in which I work nine hours a day. As you can imagine, that's a long day, even when I do get every other Friday off. The second week on the job, and I was not eating as healthy as I needed to eat, including having a Dr Pepper in the middle of the afternoon, and boy did I crash hard. I ended up keeping a record of all the food and liquid that I consumed during the day to see what was best for me. My usual regimen of green tea throughout the day is still the best along with nuts and dried fruit. Dark chocolate is my little treat after lunch, I always drink ice water with lime, and around 3 o'clock or so, I down a can of unsweetened coconut juice. That keeps me alert and focused on the task at hand.

What are the things that you do to keep you fully focused and energized throughout the day?

Friday, August 15, 2014

Cover Story

By Russel D McLean

If you don't know, the new McNee book will be out in the UK a little quicker than some of the others have been. This, the fifth and possibly final* book about the dour Dundonian detective has been in many ways one of the most challenging to write, tasked as it is with tying up several loose ends and that massive change that happened at the end of Mothers of the Disappeared.

But here's the cover:

Good, isn't it?

The thing is, a good cover is essential to a book. Whether its an ebook, a big pub book, a small pub book, whatever, a cover is absolutely vital. Just slapping images about with no context isn't good enough. Just using a font you think is "cool" isn't enough. You need to have thought through your design.

So why do I like this cover?

There's the match. The match is important. And the club scene behind. Both work in the context of the story (which you'll learn later) and together, the designer has actually given the readers a little hint about what might be to come. The composition is nice and threatening, too. It gives the atmosphere of the book.

Then there's the text. Positioned nicely. Author's name nice and clear. And the title. The title looks great. What's really nice - - and this is something I didn't notice for a while - - is that the text isn't just distressed, but  that the distress comes from someone's mucky fingerprints. Its a nice detail and works in context of the book's genre.

I've had covers I've been unhappy with. I've had covers I've loved. This one, its one of the latter. I think it does the story inside justice. And I hope, come November, you'll agree with me...

*I always said there would be five books and this wraps up a lot of McNee's story - - but will it be the end completely? Oh you'll just have to wait and see...

Thursday, August 14, 2014

Vigilante with a Badge

By Steve Weddle

Fellow Team Decker member Frank Wheeler, Jr. has a new book coming out, the first since The Wowzer wowed readers in 2012. The Wowzer (2012 DSD interview here) is about a rough cop in Arkansas. This is about a rough cop in Nebraska. That's the biggest similarity between that book and this one and, for the most part, the only one.

The Good Life introduces us to Junior, a returning son thrust into his father's shadow. He's intent on cleaning up the area, becoming a vigilante with a badge. He sets in motion a plan that follows what his father taught him: Order is built on bloodshed.

Not only is Junior thrown back into an older life, an order life is thrown back onto Junior when his ex shows up on his doorstep. She was his ex for a reason, just as there are reasons he is an ex-Denver cop. As we work our way through Junior's quest for order in his town, we see all the disorder that brought him back. The Good Life is a compelling, vibrant tale of a troubled man returning home to face troubles he left behind and troubles that have followed him. Small-town violence and big-time troubles keep this book moving along, all the while grounded in the main character -- Junior -- and what he has to live up to, what he has to get away from.

Want more? Here's Frank Wheeler, Jr. reading from the book, which is available next week:



Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Name Changer

by Holly West

Holly West isn't my real name. Well, it is my real name, but not officially; my legal name is Holly O'Neill. Nearly sixteen years married and I still haven't changed it.

Of course, I know plenty of people who never changed their name when they married and have no plans to. Nothing wrong with that, but I don't fall into that category. I've used my husband's surname since day one and the only reason I've never officially changed it is pure laziness. I'd always intended to change my name legally, I just never got around to it.

As a result, my author name, Holly West, is considered a pen name. People generally know me as Holly West--it's how I introduce myself--but legal documents, my driver's license, my passport, credit cards, et cetera, are all Holly O'Neill. Has it been confusing over the years? Yes--but not as often as you might think. Not enough to take any real action, anyway.

When I was trying to sell Mistress of Fortune, I didn't give it much thought--I figured I could be Holly West as long as I had my marriage certificate to back me up. But when it was time to sign the contracts, I learned that Holly West was considered a pseudonym. For some reason, that bothered me.

And then there's the travel. It's been an issue all along, but recently, my husband and I took a trip to Peru with my mother-in-law. For some reason, no one there could understand that I was my husband's wife. Hotel staff and others kept assuming that his mother, who shares his last name, was married to him. Yes, it was comical, but it was also a little bit inconvenient. I decided that enough was enough. It was time to make Holly West my legal name.

A key question now arose: What to do with "O'Neill?"

Originally, my plan was to ditch my middle name and replace it with O'Neill. No hyphenating for me--I definitely don't want to be known as Holly O'Neill-West. But after living with O'Neill for so long, I didn't want to get rid of it entirely. Using it as a middle name seemed a happy compromise.

After giving it a bit of thought, however, I've decided to keep it simple. I'll be Holly West, with no middle name at all. If my ultimate goal is to prevent confusion, keeping O'Neill as a middle name won't accomplish it, and my current middle name has no bearing on my identity. Why keep it?

Some have argued that I should keep my original family name as a tribute of sorts to where I come from. I can buy that. But the more I ponder it, the more I realize that I know exactly where I come from and who I am. Losing the name will not take that away from me. Plus, my husband and I are our own family and it seems only fitting that we finally share a name. Sure, he could take mine, but we both now use West for professional purposes. There's no reason for either of us to be O'Neill.

As of today, when I present my application and documents to the social security office, I will no longer be Holly O'Neill--I'll finally, officially, be Holly West. I suppose it won't feel real until my driver's license and other documents bear the name, but getting my social security card changed is the first step. I've lived a long, happy life as Holly O'Neill. But now it's time to give Holly West a chance to take the stage.

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Street Performers

I’m still on vacation so I thought I’d repost something from 2009 about a trip I took to Dublin.

Street Performers

Do you like them?

Buskers?

You're walking down the street minding your own business and suddenly some guy is in your face juggling a bowling ball, a rubber chicken and a cross-country ski - is that fun?

Well, yes, sometimes it is. I've seen some great buskers. Some of the best musicians I've seen in my life have been playing in the subway or on the sidewalk ignored by almost everyone (and often by me).

This year at the CNE in Toronto we watched a guy try and do a routine that involved laying down on a bed of glass while someone stood on a bed of nails on his chest. I say "try" but actually the routine was good - it was just going on at the same time the planes were practicing for the air show so everyone in the audience kept looking up to the sky.

All this is by way of explanation, of excuse, for how I got myself into a street performer's act in Dublin.

Normally if a busker asked me for help I'd run away. But here I was walking down Grafton street in Dublin with a video camera in my hand and I stopped to watch a guy set up his act. I kept the camera running. The act started. The guy was enthusiastic and funny but the audience was deadpan.

I started to feel for him. I was thinking about that poor guy at the Ex.
The next thing I know the guy on Grafton Street, Figo he calls himself - is standing in front of me asking to borrow my jacket. And to make it worse, he'd already asked another guy who refused. I could see this guy's act slipping away and I felt for him. I've given readings in front of two people, I know what it's like when the audience just isn't interested.

So I hand him my jacket.

And good luck to him, I think.

But the next thing I know, he's pulling me out in front of the audience.

Wait a minute, this isn't what I signed up for. My jacket, okay. I didn't even mind that he was joking how he might set it on fire while he did his trick with the cigarette (he was making it disappear, saying it would only take about five minutes as he smoked it. He also said he didn't actually smoke, that was just for his act - he was up to about thirty acts a day) but there was no way I'd go out there in front of the crowd.

But I do like to see a big crowd when I do a reading.

So maybe this busker and I were sort of in it together. I couldn't very well ruin his act, he's some guy trying to make a living.

The next thing I know I'm handing my video camera to a woman beside me and I'm in front of the crowd.

Maybe I don't like a big crowd for a reading. Maybe that intimiate connection between a writer and a single reader is the way to go.

Or maybe I should dress up in red tights and make cigarettes disappear.

Maybe not.

But Figo made the cigarette disappear and didn't even burn my jacket.

Great, now I can get off stage.

Oh wait, what's this? Now he's blowing up a balloon and saying he's going to swallow it. Good for him, I'll just get my camera back and film that, might even put it up on YouTube, the guy is pretty entertaining and what's this?

Now he wants me to walk around in front of the audience holding the balloon.

Did I mention the Bobby hat?

Then I probably also forgot to mention he's asked me to walk around looking as "butch" as I can.

The really sad thing, now that I see this picture, is that's exactly what I'm trying to do.

Before he swallowed the balloon, though, he put a rubber glove over his head and blew it up.

The rubber glove, I mean, not his head.

But really, he's just getting warmed up.

The big finale involves Figo laying down on a bed of broken glass.

And me standing on his chest.

Now it really feels like that poor guy at the Ex who couldn't get anyone's attention. I can't give up on Figo now.

As he's setting it up he asks me how much I weigh and I think does Ireland use that weird "so many stone" measurement because I have no idea how many stone I am and if I say ____ pounds will anyone get it and then I realize I'm not going to put a number on it, so I just say, "Too much."

He's a good performer, he can work a crowd and Figo goes with that. Makes a bunch of jokes about that good Canadian diet and pats my stomach.

So here I am in front of a big crowd of people showing off my fat stomach.

Figo and I are no longer in this together. I am going to put my full weight (however many freakin' stone it is) on him. Oh yeah, baby.

He gets a kid out of the audience to help me balance.

He tells the audience if they don't each put at least five Euro in his hat he'll go back to his old job of selling drugs to children and the kid who's supposed to help me balance says, "Can I have some."

This is the same kid who, when Figo said not to worry, he wasn't going to burn my jacket yelled, "Burn it."

Now I'm going to stomp on Figo and then punch this smarmy kid in the face.

But I can actually hear the glass crunching as I step on this guy. His face is red and he's tensed up every muscle in his body.

This is actually pretty cool, this guy is really trying to entertain this crowd.
And the kid manages to keep my huge body weight steady for ten seconds, so good on him, too.

Now I'm actually excited to be a part of the act.

The audience does a big countdown from 10 and when they get to, "Zero!!!" I step off.
Figo jumps up to accept the applause and I see chunks of glass stuck to his back.
He's right, I think, that deserves five Euro.

Figo tells me it's only like two bucks.

All in all a pleasant afternoon in Dublin.

Though I can't help but think Peter Rozovsky comes to Ireland and he sees the hurling final, a once in a lifetime exciting game, and I get to stand on a man's chest.