Why We Write Books

by
Scott D. Parker

I had a couple of great things happen this week. First, Joelle Charbonneau landed here in Houston and had an author event at Murder by the Book. As always, it was fantastic to see her and hear her talk about her book, her writing processes, and the path she took to get there. Among my DSD colleagues, we communicate mostly via email, developing friendships along the way. It's rare, so far, that any of us get to meet and see each other in person. I've met Joelle three times now, and each time is better than the last. Makes me wanna meet all the other folks, too.

I got a real treat at the same event. A friend of mine has a daughter who is an avid reader. Turns out, she--and the mom--both love dystopian stories. A last year's Super Bowl party, I told the mom about Joelle's THE TESTING. The mom read the book and loved it. So did the daughter. And, when I let the mom know about the signing, both mother and daughter made the trip across Houston to attend. What made this wonderful to experience was the daughter's reaction. This is the first author she's met and she was really, really excited. Remember when you were twelve and discovered that book, that author, or that genre that just spoke to you? I know I do (Star Wars does make it easier for me despite the fact that it's a movie and I'm talking books). It was just great to see the pure joy of a young person discovering and meeting an author. Helps me remember that, beyond all the talk about the business, the way things are changing, the need to do all the things one does to prepare a book, when you get right down to it, you are touching people's hearts and emotions. That's what makes it all worthwhile.

Album of the Week

Bruce Springsteen's High Hopes. Seriously, was there ever a question? I went ahead and ordered mine via Amazon because of their limited edition extra DVD of the 2013 concert where the band did the entire Born in the USA album live. As to the new material, I really like it. All the songs are definitely Springsteenian. They're an eclectic bunch, the songs. "The Wall" is a return to Vietnam as a source and is truly a heartbreaking song. The title track has always been one of my favorite non-album tracks from the 1990s (along with "Without You," "Back in Your Arms," and "Happy," among others), but the addition of Tom Morello, guitarist for Rage Against the Machine, as lead guitar, brings a much harder edge to the song. It's still light and frolicky, but just more rock and roll. But the true standout, for me, is the new, full-band version of "The Ghost of Tom Joad." Here, Morello shares lead vocals duties with Springsteen, but his blistering lead guitar work throughout and especially the closing minutes is awesome. I'm a big fan of slow beat/fast solo songs and this version has this in spades. I very much look forward to this tour, especially since the E Street Band skipped Texas last year.

A Room of One's Own

By Russel D McLean

Finally, me and the Literary Critic are settled in The Gothic Monstrosity. Our new place is a huge change for both of us. We've both come from our own flats into this shared place, and we're having to get used to changes in routine. But it's working well.

One of the things that has changed most for me is a new writing space. And what I'm finding is that I can actually get more done now that I have a dedicated space. The new office has taken a while to get right. I have a desk with my PC (I still love a desktop for writing - and especially editing - and I hate the current trend towards laptops - -which can, of course, be very useful) and several bookcases which are already overflowing. I have a stereo system and of course an old fashioned 1929 retro phone set up. On the walls are posters for Woody Allen's Shadows and Fog (the French version - - I do like a little pretension) and a print by a Spanish artist depicting a man who could very well be Raymond Chandler getting slugged across the back of the head by the butt of a gun. There's a sofabed (the office doubles as a guest bedroom) for reading on, too. But only when its in sofa form.

(this photo of the phone was taken at Christmas, hence the advent calendar... things are now much tidier)

I should point out that the Literary Critic has taken her own space, too. Our living room is larger than we ever expected and she has sealed off a corner specifically devoted to work. Again, like my area, its designed around her need and working habits. It also means she has a far better view than I do.

Its a far cry from the old flat where I wrote in a tiny corner of the bedroom indistinguishable from the rest of the room. I had a desk there and some of the same prints, but somehow, I could never quite get the same head of steam up in there as I can in the new office.

Why?

I think part of it is psychological. I work a day job. I go out and do that job and then I come home in the evenings. Coming home to face revisions/first drafts/etc etc is daunting enough but when you're writing right next to the bed you sleep in, well, its easy just to think you'll have a nap for five minutes. It is. That used to be my downfall when I had a day off. I would get up with the best of intentions and wind up having a mid afternoon nap that stretched on far longer than I ever intended it to do. The new office feels like a workspace. Its a place designed specifically to work in. It also has a door halfway up the wall that leads nowhere, but that's a whole other story.

I have said before that I can write anywhere. And that's true. The laptop has come with me to hotels and on on trains and on lunch breaks. But there's only so much writing you can do in that fashion. For editing in particular, I need a space where I can wholeheartedly focus. Its why having a desktop is important to me. Even if it was a corner of the bedroom and close to the temptation of sleep, that little area was the place where I worked. It was the place where my thoughts could focus. Transferring that to a whole room has worked wonders for productivity and motivation.While I advocate that you can write anywhere if the need is strong enough, finding a space that works for you is vital for more in depth and detailed work. I can write a first draft anywhere I like. It might even be quite good. But to polish it up and make it shine the way I want, I need a room of my own. And I think, finally, I might have found it.

The Devil They Know?

Guest post by Jim Winter

A few years back, I read an interesting theory about The Great Gatsby that suggested Jay Gatsby might have been black trying to “pass” in the more racially rigid 1920’s. It was an interesting theory, but I wish I’d read the novel before the article as it changed my perceptions of the story. Then again, there also was nothing in the book suggesting Gatsby resembled Robert Redford, so my perceptions were already altered by Hollywood. 

However, that idea played into a story I wrote for Spinetingler a few years later. “Profiled” told the tale of an undercover cop born in Tehran. In the post-9/11 era, if Gatsby were black, he would not have had to pass himself off as white. If anything, he would get called out for fostering the same prejudice that would have made his charade more acceptable in the twenties. It’s easier to call people out on racial bias, and these days, gays are finding it much easier to be open about themselves. But are there some groups that, no matter what, are going to draw suspicioin? In “Profiled,” Eddie Soroya tackles this very issue.

When we meet him, he’s sitting on a commuter train in a Midwest city posing as a homeless man while watching for trouble in our terror-panicked world. When a woman calls him a “raghead,” Soroya swears at her in Spanish. In a city with a large Mexican population, the perceived insult would warrant a harsher response. As he rides from the city’s lakefront to the airport, watching a suspicious duffle bag, we find out he is actually from the Middle East, that speaking Spanish becomes a defense that not even a badge can give him. People – black, white, Hispanic – are paranoid since those planes crashed in 2001. Unfortunately, that means people are automatically suspicious of entire groups.

When dealing with people’s biases, you have to walk a thin line. Despite what some of the more hysterical pundits on 24-hour news like to tell us, we aren’t quite in 1930’s Germany. But you hear the slurs, the misconceptions, and the outright hatred that seems to have found a new outlet.

In a way, though, Soroya is between a rock and a hard place. We also live in a nation wary of illegal immigration, so posing as a Mexican to keep people from flagging the nearest TSA worker or FBI agent is a double-edged sword. Without a badge, he’s still likely to get pulled over. He faces a different kind of harassment from what he would get if he were open about his Iranian origins. Granted, it’s easier to fight by simply sliding into his normal accent, a Rust Belt twang I myself have not been able to get rid of after 22 years, but it’s still more than most people have to deal with in this day and age.

It goes back to a conversation I once had (and was part of the impetus for “Profiled”). A friend and I were discussing, of all things, the bias against obesity. At one point, I said, “You know, most of the bullshit you have to deal with everyday stares back at you from the mirror in the morning.” And it’s true. Race, gender, weight, age, physical imperfections, and even disabilities all come back at us when we look in the mirror. Things like sexual preference, religion (or lack thereof), and politics (a stupid bias since that one causes most wars) are all internal aspects of who we are. We can hide those. We can act straight or gay. We can keep our religion and politics to ourselves. But the things that define us physically to other people are there in the mirror, which means they’re out there for all the world to see. Being a straight white male is, as John Scalzi puts it, playing life on the lowest difficulty setting. That’s not to say life is easy for anyone. We still have to deal with our personalities, and we still need to have a strong sense of self. We also need to be aware that, over time, it’s how we react to the world around us that ultimately determines how we get by in the world.  The question “Profiled” asks, and leaves hanging, is whether Eddie Soroya made the right choice about it.

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Born near Cleveland in 1966, Jim Winter had a vivid imagination – maybe too vivid for his own good – that he spun into a career as a writer. He is the author of Northcoast Shakedown, a tale of sex, lies, and insurance fraud – and Road Rules, an absurd heist story involving a stolen holy relic. Jim now lives in Cincinnati with his wife Nita and stepson AJ. To keep the lights on, he is a web developer and network administrator by day. Visit him at http://www.jamesrwinter.net , like Jim Winter Fiction on Facebook, or follow him on Twitter @authorjimwinter.

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