Words To Live By

The worst draft in the world is infinitely better than the best unwritten story.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Rise Again In Bookstores Now!

Tuesday, October 26, 2010, Rise Again is available at your bricks-and-mortar bookstore, online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble, among many more.  I'm a happy writer guy.

But what can I do to honor my tiny handful of readers here?  You're mostly writers, I know that much.  So here's your special, free gift just for showing up.

I'm giving you permission to write.

Look, if some gormless polyp like me can write a novel, so can you.  Or a short story, a screenplay, or a 100,000 word autobiography.  Why don't most people who want to write, sit down and write?  Because writing is what writers do.  They're not writers, people think.  They're not worthy.

But I'm a writer, dammit.  So I'm qualified to say this: you're qualified to write.

Sit down and write.  Go do it.  Shove some lovely words into a document that more or less correspond to what you want to say.  Then take out all the words except the ones that say it.  There!  You wrote something.  And rewrote it.  Keep doing that until it's all done.  Then show what you wrote to people.  Why?  Because if nobody ever reads it, you never wrote it.

There's only one rule: don't caveat what you wrote when you hand it out.  Don't say, "this blows donkey dicks, I know you're going to hate it."  Instead, keep working on it until you know your readers won't hate it.  Or -- this is what I do -- find some exceptionally tolerant readers to start out with.  Either way.

Go ahead and print the below out and pin it up where you write, and when you get a case of the donkey dicks, remember you have official permission to write.  Then  keep on writing.

---

Granted this 26th Day of October, in the year Two Thousand Ten: permission for the bearer to write an unlimited amount of prose, poetry, playscript, or other material.  Must use language of some kind.  The resulting work may not be apologized for in advance before it is shown to readers.



Signed on even date by Benjamin W. Tripp, writer guy

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Rise Again Back In Stock

Get it at Amazon!

Halloween Horror Double Features

Lest you think I only care about zombies, swish on over to the Huffington Post and check out some horror double features I've assembled for the scary season.  A little something for all tastes.  The 'Post staff did the fancy slideshow with the trailers and everything.  I just wroten down the words.

Friday, October 22, 2010

Rise Again Now Available!

Amazon has pre-released Rise Again.  Sold out, but more copies are on the way!

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Ideas: They're Like Kittens

How do you know when you have a great idea for a writing project?

This is a very tough question to answer, and it's critically important to make the attempt.

I have no problem coming up with ideas.  Things pop into my head all the time, in various states of readiness: a line of dialogue, a story twist, a premise, an entire novel.  I can never tell what will show up.  This is something I've cultivated since I was a youth, because I knew I'd be useless doing anything other than storytelling of one kind or another (I was right).

So here's the deal: never, ever reject an idea.  If it's unsuitable, just don't pursue it.  Write the thing down, put it aside, and let it be.  But never, ever EVER say "that's a stupid idea, forget it."  Why would you do that? 

Rhetorical question.  I know why people do that.  I ask about it.  A typical answer goes more or less as follows: "If I tried to do anything with that idea, I'd look like an idiot."  GONG!  Failbuzzer.  Hang head in shame like a Japanese game show contestant.

See, nobody looks more like an idiot than somebody who will not pursue an idea because it might expose them to ridicule.  That's not quite true: if you stuff frozen squid up your nostrils and paint your head blue, you'll look at least as much like an idiot.  But think about that defensive reaction to your own ideas.

We spend our lives, us creative types, trying to come up with something brilliant, a piece for the ages.  That may not be our express goal, but it's part of the package: why not produce something special, while we're at it?  Even this sort of ambition makes people nervous, because attempt = potential failure.

But you -- yes, I'm talking to you -- have ideas.  Many people don't.  Ideas are precious things, sort of like newborn kittens before they start slaughtering rodents.  And yet --and yet -- you reject these cute little guys.  You put them in a sack and smash them with a hammer before they grow up.  Why would you do that?

Of course these ideas don't work yet.  Of course they're not ready for prime time.  They're NEW.  They haven't been rewritten over and over again until they don't suck.  USEFUL TIP: almost all ideas suck when they're new.  If you ever have an idea that doesn't suck when it's new, nurture that thing for all you're worth, because you'll be the next Dan Brown.

Dan Brown has been accused, by straw men deflecting my harsh opinions, of being an indifferent writer at best.  Like a musician of modest talent, he has learned all the chords and knows all the tunes, but the ghost of the music isn't in him.  However, Dan Brown had a killer idea.  He had that golden, gleaming, awesome idea.  And unlike some people (let's pretend I don't mean you), Dan Brown knew enough to keep quiet and take notes while that brilliant idea wandered around in the sunlight for the first time, blinking stupidly while its fur dried.

Now, his first reaction to such an idea, if he hadn't learned how to stalk the things in the wild, might have been to say, "um, I just had an idea that [spoiler alert] Jesus had a baby and that baby had one and for 100 generations all these Jesus descendant babies have come along, one at a time, and it's a big damn secret you bet.  I'm going to go get hammered and forget about this."

But Dan Brown knew what he was doing.  He recognized this was an idea that could lead to something.  So he let the idea get a little older.  He fed it, bathed it, and kept it company.  And before long, he had one of the bestselling novels of all time on his hands.

Will he ever have another idea as good as that?  I don't know.  Neither does he.  It doesn't matter.  He succeeded, and if he doesn't succeed again, it detracts not at all from his success -- any more than winning only one Academy Award in your lifetime.  You don't have to come up with a whole bunch of brilliant ideas.  You can look for the potential in lots of half-assed ideas, too.  That happens to be my approach, because I lack taste and discrimination.

Most writers will have a small number of ideas of varying types and quality over the course of a year: fragments, stories, conversations, and whatnot.  I've written elsewhere about the value of compounding two lesser ideas into one big idea.  You can do that.  It works.  And the more you let ideas be themselves, rather than beat them to death out of preemptive humiliation, the more ideas will show up.  It's like feeding squirrels on your porch.  Word gets around.  So over time you can accumulate lots of ideas and play around with them, for weeks, years, and decades (there's no time limit). 

Here's the big note for the day: don't sweat it if you think you haven't got enough ideas, or they're not any good, or you just don't like the damn things.  Be patient.  My initial question was "How do you know when you have a great idea for a writing project?"  The best answer I have is this: "when it's fully developed." 

The good news?  You only need one great idea in your lifetime.

Remember the novel Redbum?  No?  How about Moby Dick?

The same guy wrote both of them.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Writing About Zombie Cinema

I'm racing to finish an essay on feminism in zombie cinema. Pursuant to this, I just wrote the following paragraph:


Without too much difficulty we find, particularly in the films of George Romero, a reliable anti-Objectivist critique: the purely self-interested characters are inevitably killed by their selfishness and greed.  Money, that most extrinsic of things, never appears in a zombie picture except ironically, usually in cast-away handfuls.  The most consistent element in zombie stories, for that matter, is the search for a self-sufficient place free of zombies; this is the embodiment of the search for the Objectivist paradise, Galt’s Gulch.  Without exception, this attempt to ‘go Galt’ ends in blood-spurting disaster.  One can venture further into these ideas before reaching the wilderness of concepts impossible to test: surely we can discern the outlines of a Marxist polemic in Land of the Dead, and for that matter a whiff of Engels’ reification theory, Napoleon in this case represented by a particularly cogent zombie?  Is not the original Dawn of the Dead a potent anti-consumerist statement, and also an extended essay on materialism -- not to mention a violent interpretation of Gide’s Familles, je vous hais!, with its closed doors and locked homes, the zombie cast as anarchic child?  Beyond that level of critique of zombie cinema it is difficult to venture, without surrounding oneself in perilously attenuated assumptions.
 ...I don't want you nutty kids thinking I'm just in it for the scares.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Responses To The Book

Preview copies of Rise Again have been flowing out to reviewers like toxic mud flowing down the Danube.  A couple of early responses are linked here, including the thrillsville BoingBoing review:

http://dadofdivas-reviews.blogspot.com/2010/10/book-review-rise-again.html
http://www.boingboing.net/2010/10/11/rise-again-would-you.html

More to come, of course.  But what I really want to talk about is finding the right idea for your next project, and how tricky that can be.  I guess I should start that.  Yes.  But first...

Saturday, October 9, 2010

A Chapter

I talk about writing an awful lot; it's almost as much fun as writing, and if you consider that I discuss writing in writing, it's also writing, right?  Dude, whoa.

But I don't offer up specimens of my writing.

Most writers don't.  It's fair play: you start chucking around samples of your fiction, and three things can happen: first, the work doesn't live up to the authority you've handed it when you claimed to be a writer.  People decide you're not qualified to discuss the craft.  Second, the work is in a peculiar context that doesn't serve it well.  The internet is not an ideal place to read fiction.  There are too many other things whispering in your ear at the same time: email, news, social networks, pornography.  Third, you relinquish control over the fate of the piece when you pop it up online.  By this I don't mean plagiarism -- although plagiarism is heinous; it's cannibalism -- but the utter haphazardness of the digital realm.  It's a message in a bottle and regarding whether it sinks, or washes up on some remote shore, you have no influence.

That's preamble.  Here is the first chapter of a novel I'd put away for a while and just rediscovered.  Of the novel, there presently exists an outline, reams of notes, and three chapters.  I post this fragment here, despite misgivings (revealing an unfinished work is like showing everyone ultrasound pictures of your unborn progeny: it's far too soon, difficult to interpret, and to most people the subject looks like a malevolent peanut).

I offer this up, possibly sacrificially, to show you what a first draft of mine looks like.  I don't know if it will end up in finished form, or how much it will change if it does.  But there are little hints of theme in this fragment, strokes of setting and character.  It shows something about how I like to start a story: hit the ground running, if you can.  Set the tone.  Make it self-contained to some degree, so the reader can try the thing out without having to invest in the entire narrative -- but don't wrap it up, or there's no incentive to read onwards.

The chapter that follows this one is an abrupt jump forward in time, so this piece stands alone for a fair while -- until later in the story, when its abandoned sawmill re-enters to the narrative.

Text after the jump.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Oh, Big Score

Got a little mention on Boing Boing, the awesomest bloggy sort of thing evar.

Working with the human interest angle of "author hates cover, so makes new covers" as featured on the Rise Again website.  Got about 2500 hits as a result in 48 hours, which is good traffic.  And a couple hundred tweets, whatever good that does me.

Today built a raft of banner ads of all sizes for a campaign to SNATCH EYEBALLS.

None of this is germane to the writer's craft, but it's sure interesting to me.