The Daily Brood

Bad reviews, negative criticism, and the stumbling blocks of creative confidence

2015-10-18T18:42:00.001-05:00

“The book was ok. It did not draw me in and the characters didn't seem well developed, initially. It did get better towards the end, just a very slow start.”

It wasn’t a one-star review, but I read it in Late June of last year and it just made my shoulders sag.

It didn’t hurt. The review was just blunt and the person who wrote it – someone I have never met – didn’t mean it as a personal attack on me. But it was not a rave and when an author works so hard to write and then edit and then publish and then promote a novel, they have to think the novel is something very special.

When a less than rave review first sneaks in it’s like learning you child has a drinking problem or that you’re the only one who likes a certain television show your friends can’t stand (Big Bang Theory – I know, it’s not weighty and it’s getting to be the same jokes over and over, I still like watching it because Jim Parsons is funny and Kaley Cuoco is kind of cute).

But it comes down to not shining as bright as you thought you did. And letting that thought pull you down from a positive and productive place where writing is fun and easy to a level of hell I call “Constant Editor.”

Constant Editor is the darker side of my writing alter-ego.

My writing side is a happy, single father who likes to paint and take his son to the park. He takes the time to sit outside on nice days and pet kittens and think about the future.

Constant Editor is a man whose almost wife left him. He sometimes drinks too much. Never seems to get any mail but bills. He’s been working hard at jobs so he can afford a home and a writing career that seems to lag occasionally and garner less than positive re-enforcement from fans.

“Only 12 reviews on Amazon.com? What am I doing wrong!”

Constant Editor is the guy who doesn’t keep this blog up because he’s got work deadlines and chores and pizzas to order. He feels sorry for himself a lot, and I, along with most people, don’t like him that much.

He’s the kind of guy who puts off writing because he knows it won’t be any good. He takes jobs that stress him out and pay crap and he whines and complains. He also keeps poking the Happy Writing Side of my brain like a Neanderthal groaning and moaning like a zombie.

“Write… Work… Finish… Make Money.”

Constant Editor and Happy Writer do agree that money is nice. They actually both want to make it and be successful and have nothing but rave reviews and book club stickers, and author groupies, and shelves, and lamps, and tables, and desks… For some reason they want to turn my whole house into one big study.

But thinking about writing as a means to make money inhibits the thinking about story. Story is the thing that moves the writing forward, not the goal of making money.

Lack-luster and negative reviews will happen and they can send a person into a deep slump where they’re nothing but a Constant Editor. Every sentence is too laboursome to even write. Every Character is under developed. All the lines and scenes and settings seem trite.

He can be a real bastard, Constant Editor. Especially when you’re just trying to get started on a story. He’ll throw out characters you spent hours developing, tear up your story maps and outlines and charts, and lose pages.

But it’s been long enough. And Happy Writer is back because he has to be.

Interviewing Characters and Characters Interviewing Each Other...

2014-01-21T12:54:00.000-06:00

One of the more interesting ways I’ve discovered for learning more about my characters and sparking inspiration for dialogue is by having my characters interview each other. One of the most interesting things I learned in journalism school were the rules of conducting interviews. As an author, I’ve had the pleasure of submitting myself to interviews in the past and I’m discovering that many of the questions are the same across interviewers.

Character Interviews can be fun tools for an author early on in the brainstorming process. More often than not authors talk about the idea for their story coming to them as a voice in there head.

“Hello,” the voice says. “I’m ______. What would you like to know about me?”

The first interviews you conduct as an author are like fact finding missions. You could almost use any general questionnaire or service form to interview your character—learning their name, birthdate, height, weight, proportions, occupation(s), etc.

After a generic worksheet like the one described above is complete, however, you need to make it more like a general interview.

1. Do you have any scars? If so, how did you get them?

2. How would you describe yourself?

3. What is your greatest fear?

4. What makes a person a hero in your eyes?

5. What are your opinions about education? Did you go to school? If so what’s the highest level of schooling you attained?

6. What is your worst memory of childhood?

7. Do you have any tattoos? What do they mean?

8. Describe your mortal enemy.

9. Describe the person you love.

10. It’s noon on a Saturday, what are you doing?

11. When people first meet you, what do you hope they think of you?

12. When people first meet you, what do they actually think of you?

13. Why did you buy the shoes you are wearing? What style are they?

14. Tell me a funny joke.

15. What is on your bedroom floor right now?

16. If I opened your refrigerator right now, what would I see?

17. Describe where you were born.

18. Describe where you live now.

19. Describe your favorite food. What does it taste like when you take the first bite?

20. What makes you instantly dislike someone?

These are good starting questions and it’s nice to know the answers as the author, however, if your character is a police detective from the future who investigates homicides and has a troubled past (I’m just drawing a character at random here) you might ask her how she feels about certain concepts like love, fear, or hate. You would then ask for specific memories or events in the character’s life that reveal intimate and personal details.

“What are your worst memories from childhood?” “What do you irrationally fear?” “Can you name a time you did something you knew was bad?” “Tell me about the first person you ever slept with?” “Who have you ever cared deeply about and why was that person special?”

Good questions for your characters are questions that require more than a brief answer. If your character ever gives you a one-word or vague answer (for example Victoria Rhodes gave me the answer “all of them” for the first question listed above), prod them to elaborate.

Question: “What are your worst memories from childhood?”

Victoria: “All of them.”

Question: “Describe one of them. Were there smells? Tastes? Sounds?”

Victoria: “I was 11 when I beat a girl to death with my bare hands. She was an older girl and only one of us was allowed to leave the ring alive. She was stronger than me and she’d been in the ring before. I wasn’t supposed to survive. I remember she’d broken most of the bones in my face and the pain of the fractured bones was like realizing there’s nothing but a mask under your skin that can break into a thousand shards like a porcelain doll. I was afraid and I knew I was going to die but then I felt this hot feeling in my stomach and it was like the world tilted in my favor. There was nothing holding me down and no pain and then the feel of all of that hate and anger and fear and rage spilling out onto one point, the feel of another girls nose bone separating and driving back and up into her skull with a wet snap....”

This method is useful for the development not only of character but as inspiration for possible scenes in your story. It also leads to the next step, which is getting your characters to interact with each other. The questions you as the author would ask your main characters and the questions other characters would ask them are completely different. Authors’ motivations are different from that of lovers, colleagues, villains, and strangers who populate a fictional world.

I am not saying that you cannot hide some of your author questions (like the example above) by mixing them in with questions other characters ask. For instance, a psychiatrist might ask about a character’s “worst childhood memories” as part of a psychological evaluation (Dr. Hannibal Lector asks it of Agent Starling in the film Silence of the Lambs to great effect).

But other characters questions might be as simple as “what do you think of me as a person?” “What would it take for you and me to be friends?” “How am I funny in your opinion?” “What is something you know you can do to make me uncomfortable?” “How am I annoying?” “The first time you saw me was.... and you thought...?” “How can you tell when I’m angry? Nervous? Excited? Afraid?”

Questions like these force your characters to think about and consider each other. It gives them and you a chance to understand their interactions with each other within the frame of your story. If you can think up answers to these questions, you have so much more to play with than just sitting down at your keyboard and attacking the beast of your story without ammunition. When you can work out physical mannerisms such as how they hold their hands or the way they stand or what parts of them keep still and what parts of them move in certain situations, you take a flat character and make them more round and interesting to your main characters and your readers.

So, to sum up, if you haven’t ever experimented with pre-writing, this is one of the more fun ways of approaching it as a novice and still beneficial for even the most seasoned writer. I hope you’ll share some of your interview questions in the comments section so that we can all benefit from your creativity. Until next time, thanks for visiting my blog and I hope you've found something useful here.

Sincerely,

Ben Smith

Poking Fun at Sue Grafton whilst Agreeing with Her 70% of the Time.

2014-01-15T18:00:00.000-06:00

The other day in class, a student of mine asked me to describe an ethical dilemma in terms he could understand. I immediately fell back on my “go to” example of Jean Valjean the fictional character and the protagonist of Victor Hugo's 1862 novel Les Misérables.

“If you were poor and there were no government programs to help you pay for food (such as unemployment or food stamps like we have in America today), and you had a child in your care who was starving and sick and likely to die if you did not find a means to feed him, would you steel a loaf of bread even though you knew it to be against the law?”

Ethical dilemmas tend to arise when a person is faced with the question of what is justified and what is legal or (as in the case of this posting) the question of what is honest vs. what is hurtful.

In late 2012, Sue Grafton got into a bit of hot water after she advised young writers not to self-publish, because ‘that’s as good as admitting you’re too lazy to do the hard work’.” In an interview with The Guardian, she called self-published titles she had read “often amateurish” and compared the authors of said books to students who had mastered Five Easy Pieces for Piano and thought they were suddenly suited to play Carnegie Hall.

She later apologized for these statements after a flurry of righteous indie author indignation swamped her with bitter diatribes.

I’m no fan of negativity aimed at Indie Authors. However, I’m facing a bit of an ethical dilemma.

There are really well-written authors out there who deserve 5-stars for their books. They need tons of positive reviews and all the help I can give them to boost their SEO and take on the big name publishers. 5-Stars mean a stamp of approval not lightly given. However, not all Indie books are worth 5-Stars in my opinion.

Some people (notice I didn’t use the word authors there) send me messages through various Indie groups asking to swap reviews. A accept because I am a selfish greedy bastard who wants as many reviews as I can get. I send them links to a free version or sample and in return they send me their work. I would say that roughly 7 in 10 of the works I get this way are terrible. I’m not saying my book is the greatest work of Fiction since Huckleberry Finn, mind you, but I do obey some of the simple rules of continuity of character, style, and attempt to limit the number of grammatical and typographical errors in my manuscript format. When I ask these people where they learned to write I invariably get the answer that begins “well, I got the idea for this book from (I drift out about here).”

The answer is invariably a non-sequitor to the question. When I ask “where did you learn to write?” I do not mean “where did you get the idea for your story?”

Having an idea for a story is easy. Subject (main character), Verb (action), Noun (Objective/Goal). Learning how to write on the other hand is not so easy.

“Where did you learn to write?” should have an answer. “I had a teacher in high school.” “I took a college course.” “I worked as an intern for a newspaper.” The number of people out there who bill themselves as “original and creative far Indie Authors” far exceeds the numbers who discuss their training and experience as writers.

And so I come to my dilemma: If I am an Indie Author and I want to get more people to read Indie Authors, do I promote all Indie Authors equally?

The golden rule is to treat others as you would want to be treated. I love getting 5-Star reviews. I don’t ever feel the need to beg or plead for them. I simply ask people to read and review and, so far, I’ve done a fairly good job of avoiding the 1-Star trolls screaming in all caps “YOU KILLED A LITTLE GIRL IN THE FIRST SCENE YOU MONSTER!”

But the fact remains, if someone wanted to give my book 1-Star on Amazon or Goodreads or Smashwords for that reason, they are entitled to do so. I don’t expect people to just like my book because I tell them to. I’m the first person to like my writing! If it made it to actual publication quality in my mind, I’ve invested a lot of time and effort into making it presentable, enjoyable, and marketable. I don’t just slap 30,000 words onto 150+ pages and call it a novel.

But there are people out there who do just that sort of thing and then pay for cover art and marketing packages to boost their sales. These are people who sell their books “by the cover” not “by the content.” They are not authors. A blind affirmation of them as such by fellow Indies who want to build fan base and grow their online visibility is dangerous and wrong. These people are the very definition of “enemy” to me as they detract rather than add to the value of a rating system and democratic community by stuffing ballot boxes and pilfering positivity through guilt or pettiness. Furthermore, if you are ever honest enough to point out flawed writing to these people, they become egregiously hurt and unmitigatedly incensed.

Bad reviews aren’t good (to state the obvious). However, they can be helpful to an author if that author has been trained to recognize the “good” bad reviews. Constructive feedback makes a good author better and keeps a great author from slipping backward into complacency and laziness. If you have bad reviews that are unspecific, you should not take them to heart. However, if you earn a bad review that does point out specific flaws, do not respond defensively.

Engaged your critics. Listen to them. Learn from them. This is what distinguishes a serious author, either independent or dependent (LOL sorry, Sue), form an amateur.

Serious authors are always going to attempt to do better. They plan to work hard to improve the quality and sales of their works and lure more and more fans into their camps.

So, in short, I will accentuate the positive and eliminate the negative when it comes to reviewing books with titles like “Werewolf Hookers from Jesus Camp” and “Under the Floorboards of Hades.” And should I ever get a truly negative review from a fellow author, I will accept it with quiet, dignity, and a hastily written blog post praying for the death of all infidels.

Sincerely,

BEN

The things you whip up when you're just trying to create a web image to use in a powerpoint....

2013-12-11T09:49:00.001-06:00

The only way this one sight I was on would let me get a clear image of "a souvenir just to prove the world was here" was to actually create the darn thing an put it up for sale online in an online store.

Well, the store is called ChainJerk (I wanted to call it Rank & Gross or Dangleberry's,but apparently I'm not as creatively original as I think).

So, for all you people who like obscure references to 80's pop song lyrics about the cold war, here:

<embed wmode="transparent" src="http://www.zazzle.com/utl/getpanel?tl=My%20Zazzle%20Panel&at=238621978321421255&cn=238621978321421255&st=date_created" FlashVars="feedId=0&path=http://www.zazzle.com/assets/swf/zp/skins" width="450" height="300" TYPE="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed><br/><a href="http://www.zazzle.com/">make custom gifts</a> at <a href="http://www.zazzle.com/">Zazzle</a>

The Great Hiatus

2013-11-11T16:41:00.003-06:00

For reasons having to do with life, an aversion to poverty, and focus on doing good work each day, this is to be my first entry since December of 2012.

I do my best to stay away from personal details in my blog, optioning instead to focus on writing about the art of improving literature.

Suffice it to say, if you're curious about where I've been and what I've been doing, I'll sum it up as quikly as possible. Boy met girl. Girl had boy's boy. Boy stopped writing his blog. You can be a writer and a blogger, or a blogger and a father, or a father and a writer, but never all three at once. When push came to shove, I forgot my password to blogger and then forgot I had a blog all together. Sorry.

I also fell into my reading a lot this past year. I got my hands on another degree and then a classroom of students to teach, and the writing I've been doing instead of blogging--though moving at a slower pace-- is gaining more depth and color and a better tone with each passing re-write.

There are so many places to begin in this first blog of an already old year, I suppose I could talk about the good books I've read:

The Sherlockian by Graham Moore

The Bookman's Tale by Charlie Lovett

A Discovery of Witches and Shadow of Night by Deborah Harkness

City of Dark Magic by Magnus Flyte

and A Fan's Notes by Fredrick Exley

I could rhapsodize about how fast life changes and how reacting to it in the first-person prescient can be a bit more fun than writing about it in the third-person omniscient. In the end, however, I think I'll just make it brief and say "Hello, dear friends." And "I've got to make time in my week for you again."

Sincerely,

Ben Smith

Twas the Night before Christmas by Clement Clarke Moore

2012-12-24T21:49:00.000-06:00

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

It's Not Weird...

2012-12-19T12:04:00.002-06:00

I shower with my dog.

Well, not all the time. I take a lot of showers and Jake doesn't join me for more than a quarter of them if he can help it. Anyway, Jake is a Hungarian Hound mixed with Labrador and he's saved my life more than once in the shower.

When troubles overwhelm and sadness burdens me, Jake never fails to smell incredibly and inexcusably bad by even casual olfactory consideration. He is into everything, an intrepid explorer armed with a guileless gall that inspires as well as educates.

Well, Jake smelled pretty bad yesterday and I was forced to catch him, corner him, and carry him into the bathroom for a double-shampoo and rinse. Before heading into the bathroom with Jake I was nervous about any number of things. Money is tight and I’ve got no end of worries this holiday season as, I’m sure, you do as well.

Nevertheless, Jake needed his bath and I gave it to him, saying soft supportive things to him as we both stood under the showerhead with him looking down miserably the whole time feeling very sorry for himself.

As we both scrubbed and rinsed (and yes, I know to the non-dog owner the fact that I shower with my dog might appear a bit odd), I realized Jake’s bath was something he just had to grit his teeth and bare. Well, if a three-year-old hound can manage, I suppose I can too.

If you are ever in need of encouragement, just remember that dogs don’t like baths, especially when they need them, and people don’t like trouble in quite the same way. Troubles are just challenges. You can survive them, just like a dog can survive his bath and the application of some complimentary aqua-velva afterwards.

(cough)

Shut up. It’s not weird.

Blog Link: My Interview for Justin Bienvenue

2012-12-18T19:45:00.001-06:00

I recently consented to a 10-question interview with fellow Science Fiction author and blogger Justin Bienvenue. You can find my answers to the following questions on his blog.

Justin's Questions:
1. What’s it like being a playwright, novelist and short story writer?
2. How has your degree in Journalism played a part in your extensive writing?
3. What can you tell us about your latest book “Atlas”?
4. What was the thought process like going in before writing the book?
5. How has it been for you being an indie author?
6. What’s your take on some of the publishing companies in the writing world these days?
7. How much of an impact have your influences paid a part in your writing?
8. Don’t you feel there’s just a little something extra with science fiction that gives you more creative freedom?
9. What’s a defining element to describe your writing?
10. Sell Atlas to us, how would you describe it to someone who isn’t a fan of science fiction?

On Another's Sorrow By William Blake

2012-12-15T19:57:00.003-06:00

Can I see another's woe,

And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another's grief,
And not seek for kind relief?

Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrow's share?
Can a father see his child
Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?

Can a mother sit and hear
An infant groan, an infant fear?
No, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
And can He who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small,
Hear the small bird's grief and care,
Hear the woes that infants bear --

And not sit beside the next,
Pouring pity in their breast,
And not sit the cradle near,
Weeping tear on infant's tear?

And not sit both night and day,
Wiping all our tears away?
Oh no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
He doth give his joy to all:
He becomes an infant small,
He becomes a man of woe,
He doth feel the sorrow too.

Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
And thy Maker is not by:
Think not thou canst weep a tear,
And thy Maker is not near.

Oh He gives to us his joy,
That our grief He may destroy:
Till our grief is fled an gone
He doth sit by us and moan.

A brief post upon the tragedies in Portland and Sandy Hook

2012-12-15T19:55:00.000-06:00

Every citizen of the world cannot help but feel a tightness in their hearts this week. Too many children in the long history of mankind have died needlessly and there is no solace to be had with the passing away of so many young lights in such a violent and unpredictable act of senselessness.

Our tears could fill an ocean and all the words we want to say seem empty even as we say them to the bereft families in both Portland and Sandy Hook.

I am a pacifist, but even I must admit to a sense of sheer anger and outrage in the past few days hearing some of the causes taking up this event and making it into a talking point. It is selfish and it is wrong to martyr innocent people and torture their families with this macabre circus. Shame upon humanity and whoa are we for doing anything beyond weeping for the lost and holding those who survive close to our hearts in this time when they are no doubt adrift in unfriendly raging seas of emotion.

There is no sense in blaming the presence or lack of God in any section of life for the evil things that happen. It is an irrational action to point fingers and hurl blame. Once started there is no stopping it and with the added noise there is nothing to be learned from any tragedy, no matter how heinous.

Words fail. Emotions flood. Anger takes hold. We must not neglect our duty to rise above ou

r differences and hold one another without thoughts of gods or nationalities, of colors or beliefs. The natural responses to grief are fear and anger. But the greatest human gift is universal love. We must embrace those people who lost children and relatives this week.

Pain leaves a hollow place in all of us because there is no assurance that it will never be felt again. There are no promises God or man can make to diminish pain. But blame is one thing that increases it, and that is where man must learn to control his baser responses to tragedy.

Keep calm. Carry on. And hold your children close.

Great Expectations

2012-12-11T20:30:00.005-06:00

“I must be taken as I have been made. The success is not mine, the failure is not mine, but the two together make me.”

There is no greater insult to a college graduate than the insinuation, by someone in the workforce with less than a post-secondary education, that all the hard work he put in to obtaining his degrees has been a waste of time, effort, and money. To be sneered at for achieving something that took a great investment is like working hard for I.O.U.s and being handed a bill at the end of your indenture.

Too many people are tossing off the achievement of higher degrees these days and it is a dangerous and disingenuous practice, often lauded by conservatives who think education is the enemy of religion for not mandating that all children say "under God" during the pledge of allegiance.

There was a time when people went after educated people for attending communist meetings and now they're going after educated people for coming out of college expecting middle-class jobs that will give them decent hours, living wages, and benefits.

How dare such people think they deserve those things? Have they worked and slaved away at menial tasks, fought and kicked their way up from the bottom without complaining?

Yes, they have. Just not for money. Unlike employment, Education is not done out of mercenary motives. People go to college to gain respect for diverse cultures and studies, to expand their understanding of the world and their place in it, and to see what is happening and hold it up to what should be happening. University graduates are hard-working, intelligent, relevant members of society. Too many people generalize and brand them as "intellectuals" or "know-it-alls" who have no respect, who, in fact, carry a surplus of disdain for the "common" blue collar Americans upon whose backs they've trod since Jesus delivered the constitution to Ronald Regan on Mount Doom...

Get a life, read a book, and for the love of God, keep your expectations high. Work to go as far as you can with your education. It is true you don't need a degree to do something these days, but a degree does give you access to more tools to help you do something exceptionally well.

So, if your doubting the value of an education, you've been under-employed or under-appreciated, understand that it is not your fault the world can't recognize a star shining through the fog of every day life.

I started with a quote from Dickens so I supposed I'll end with one as well. From the same book...

“I looked at the stars, and considered how awful it would be for a man to turn his face up to them as he froze to death, and see no help or pity in all the glittering multitude.”

Stars have watched a lot of turmoil on this earth and you can't blame them for keeping quiet and staying away.

Sincerely,

Benjamin Smith

Dear Mr. Kringle,

2012-12-11T19:58:00.002-06:00

Today I sat down and had a long hard think. A year ago I felt rejected and unwanted at the bottom of a dark hole where no one could hear me and nobody thought very highly of my efforts or my achievements.

I griped a lot and for that I apologize.

As this year closes, I see I gained a lot. I accumulated more knowledge, pushed through some obstacles, worked hard, made it a point to keep hold of the things I loved and pursue the things that made me happy, and the result is I met a girl, fell in love, and faster than light flickering off the wings of a bottle-fly, my life changed.

Sir, this year for Christmas I have a family of my own and for that I am very grateful. Nothing in the world could have made me happier and I doubt anything more important or impressive could ever come down the pike ever again to rival the joy and happiness this year has given me. I feel very fortunate and I hope this feeling keeps me warm and lights my way through the growing cold and darkness of this winter season.

Sir, I fear this year that many people are looking at the shortening days and dropping temperatures and seeing their own fiscal cliffs looming as bills pile up and belts tighten. I know I am very concerned with where the money is going to come from that will help me keep this precious gift of family I have received. I, like many people, feel a little scared, Sir. And while I could use more money, or steadier work, or better transportation to help get the kids to and from school, I would much rather remember where I was last year and how much my life and outlook have improved.

Maybe it is just the spirit of the season taking hold of me, or perhaps it is the amount of time I've spent making little kids smile and holding someone close who matters, but I feel a great optimism blooming in the depths of this winter. Things have a way of working out, Mr. Kringle, and whether or not you or your boss have anything to do with it, I don't wager to guess. So, when the darkness plagues me now and when I feel overcome with thoughts that I may not be able to manage, I simply try to hold on to the idea that good things have happened to me this year and there's no reason to let negative thoughts diminish my appreciation of that fact.

I simply hope that next year I can write a similar thank you letter like this one.

So, no Xbox or Red-Rider Bee-Bee gun for me this year.

Thanks and Merry Christmas.

Benjamin Smith

Béla Bartók - Concerto For Orchestra (1943) (Full)

2012-12-05T22:22:00.000-06:00

One of my favorite composers is also, I feel, one of the most unknown. I consider Bartók superior to Brahms for the piano and violin and this piece, along with his Sonatina, make for excellent writing music.

If I Told Him: A Completed Portrait of Pablo Picasso by Gertrude Stein

2012-12-05T11:17:00.000-06:00

If I told him would he like it. Would he like it if I told him.
Would he like it would Napoleon would Napoleon would would he like it.
If Napoleon if I told him if I told him if Napoleon. Would he like it if I told him if I told him if Napoleon. Would he like it if Napoleon if
Napoleon if I told him. If I told him if Napoleon if Napoleon if I told him. If I told him would he like it would he like it if I told him.
Now.
Not now.
And now.
Now.
Exactly as as kings.
Feeling full for it.
Exactitude as kings.
So to beseech you as full as for it.
Exactly or as kings.
Shutters shut and open so do queens. Shutters shut and shutters and so shutters shut and shutters and so and so shutters and so shutters shut
and so shutters shut and shutters and so. And so shutters shut and so and also. And also and so and so and also.
Exact resemblance to exact resemblance the exact resemblance as exact as a resemblance, exactly as resembling, exactly resembling, exactly
in resemblance exactly a resemblance, exactly and resemblance. For this is so. Because.
Now actively repeat at all, now actively repeat at all, now actively repeat at all.
Have hold and hear, actively repeat at all.
I judge judge.
As a resemblance to him.
Who comes first. Napoleon the first.
Who comes too coming coming too, who goes there, as they go they share, who shares all, all is as all as as yet or as yet.
Now to date now to date. Now and now and date and the date.
Who came first Napoleon at first. Who came first Napoleon the first. Who came first, Napoleon first.
Presently.
Exactly as they do.
First exactly.
Exactly as they do too.
First exactly.
And first exactly.
Exactly as they do.
And first exactly and exactly.
And do they do.
At first exactly and first exactly and do they do.
The first exactly.
At first exactly.
First as exactly.
At first as exactly.
Presently.
As presently.
As as presently.
He he he he and he and he and and he and he and he and and as and as he and as he and he. He is and as he is, and as he is and he is, he is
and as he and he and as he is and he and he and and he and he.
Can curls rob can curls quote, quotable.
As presently.
As exactitude.
As trains.
Has trains.
Has trains.
As trains.
As trains.
Presently.
Proportions.
Presently.
As proportions as presently.
Father and farther.
Was the king or room.
Farther and whether.
Was there was there was there what was there was there what was there was there there was there.
Whether and in there.
As even say so.
One.
I land.
Two.
I land.
Three.
The land.
Three.
The land.
Two.
I land.
Two.
I land.
One.
I land.
Two.
I land.
As a so.
They cannot.
A note.
They cannot.
A float.
They cannot.
They dote.
They cannot.
They as denote.
Miracles play.
Play fairly.
Play fairly well.
A well.
As well.
As or as presently.
Let me recite what history teaches. History teaches.

Rhapsody

2012-12-05T11:03:00.002-06:00

(n.) \ˈrap-sə-dē\

1.
a portion of an epic poem adapted for recitation.

2.
a (1) : a highly emotional utterance (2) : a highly emotional literary work (3) : effusively rapturous or extravagant discourse. b rapture or ecstacy

3.
a musical composition of irregular form having an improvisatory character

I've been falling behind in my fiction reading lately and discovering some great books that make me think about word choice, writing with power, and the "stacking" of "ammo" associated with "slangin'" as the modern-day hip-hop artists are fond soliloquizing.

The fact of the matter is that metaphor and figurative language are fun tools for writing and their everyday use is most readily assimilated through the review of lyrics and songwriting.

Music is universal. You may not like certain kinds of music as a writer, but almost every human being on the planet has a favorite genre of music. I try to be eclectic when it comes to my musical tastes and now that I am engaged to marry a composer/virtuoso, I am taking the study of lyrics under my wing and mixing its pigments of extended metaphors, paired opposites, and triple extensions into my pallet.

Pat Pattison's book came into my hands by way of a veteran teacher. I found myself instantly jumping through the chapters steeling ideas, forming metaphors, fiddling with couplets and rhyming-schemes, enamored with the process of what is essentially poetry. I was never a fan of poetry until recently. I considered poems as highly stylized ways of telling stories without telling them until I realized that poetry lends personality to writing and lends poignancy to stories making the good better and more impressive to reading audiances.

My life is littered with the lyrics of Shakespeare and I long to lay down lines as lovely with as much alliterative ease. Poetastery is a prolific undertaking driven by words so cumbersome and beautiful that its a pleasure to let them hover around me like a thick cloud of dexterous dictionary debris. One of the reasons all writers advocate reading (aside from the obvious inclination to turn profit from prose) is to advocate the assimilation of more and more words. The only thing that should be dense about a writer is her or his vocabulary and the way to write a book well is by accumulating more and more of the right words.

So many writers today can't look past the ease of their laptop synonym finder. So many great resources on and off-line exist to supplement and sensualize your writing. Think of the English language as it was 400 years ago and realize how restrictive we as a society have let it become. Writers used to noun verbs and verb nouns and split infinitives while dangling their participles with poise and pomp. There was an opulence in simplicity and a magnanimity in the formation and obliteration of rules.

I love books that use cool words. And I love writers who make up words to fit their sentences. Let your creation flow from you and when its done, edit it, refine it, hone it, and love every minute of it.

Authors Purpose: Simple questions you should ask yourself to build confidence and focus your writing

2012-12-05T09:23:00.002-06:00

Writing is not an antisocial practice. The foundations of modern day literature and reportage began with theater thousands of years ago. Our stages and mediums have expanded a great deal but the general fodder of fiction and nonfiction has remained the same despite the number of genres and sub-genres with which publishers stock our bookstores.

Before we begin to write each day, authors have to focus themselves and make decisions. Authors, in this way, are a lot like teachers. We wake up and ask the great questions "what am I going to say today?" and "How am I going to get people to listen?"

Audience is our customer in teaching and in writing. We want them to consume our brand of information. Now, we may have information that is easy to digest or hard to stomach, we have to package things and sell them properly by setting our objectives and stating them clearly so that our Audiences can make informed decisions about our products.

In this, we get very heavily into social dissections and trend studies, something that used to depress me in posts some of you may have read that have sense been deleted from this blog. Large groups of people don't want your product. They want something else. They won't buy your book 'cause its too this or too that. Its not Laura Conrad or Cat in the Hat. And when you get sideswiped, ignored, and rejected, it never helps anything to get all dejected. You're you and it's true, that most people are cruel, but sit tight and write sharp, and just pity the fools.

At the end of the day you are the boss. You shouldn't let the people who don't want to work for you or with you deter you from working hard for yourself.

So, keep writing each day and set your objectives:

1) Who am I writing for?

2) Why should they care?

3) How is it better than the rest?

4) How is it my story to tell?

5) Where are they going to get lost?

Simple questions you should ask yourself to build confidence and focus your writing.

Oceans and Anchors

2012-12-05T07:21:00.003-06:00

Being from the very heart of the country, its odd to wake up from dreams about oceans. When I was younger I used to love the ocean. My paternal grandparents kept a modest little bungalow in a sleepy little southern Oregon town. It was a strange kind of ocean for a boy to fall in love with, the surf was always too cold, the wind blew hard across the pacific more often than not, and waves seemed capped with white foam whenever my grandfather would take me out on his 25 footer to fish for rock cod and red snapper.

I haven't been back to Oregon since I was 15, and this morning I woke up thinking I'd just been back, wading through the surf in sunset cove with no one esle around as the tide slowly went out and the life pools formed.

I don't go in for dream analysis very often but I do think that life can feel like a vast ocean at times.

The ocean is really remarkable when you think about it. The percentage of life populating the ocean dwarfs that found roaming dry land. There is a natural rhythm to the waves but you can never truly turn your back on the ocean and trust it entirely to do what you expect.

Life is like that.

In my dream the water was cold and dark enough that I couldn't see my legs below my shins. The sun was rising behind me in sunset cove and the massive wave-worn boulders were jutting up as I climbed out of the water onto them. Suddenly someone was with me. A boy wanting me to show him the life pools my grandfather had showed me. I taught him how to put his finger in the middle of a sea anemone and watched him giggle as it closed up around the finger. I lifted up a horse shoe crab and watched him find his first starfish.

The dream fades more and more as I try to write it out, but the over all feeling I had upon waking was a sense of the tide coming back in and that time was robbing us of our fun. It was an oddly simple dream, not too eventful, but I liked it. It was a good dream.

The Children of Children by Oscar Brown Jr.

2012-12-04T10:50:00.003-06:00

Oscar Brown Jr. (October 10, 1926 – May 29, 2005) was an American singer, songwriter, playwright, poet, civil rights activist, and actor. Brown's lyrics and original compositions have been performed by a variety of other artists. "Somebody Buy Me a Drink", a track from Sin and Soul, was covered by David Johansen and the Harry Smiths on their eponymous first album. Nina Simone popularized Brown's lyrics to "Work Song" and "Afro Blue," as well as his song "Bid 'Em In."

The children of children by the time they’re half grown have habits like rabbits and young of their own
The children of children from their mamas laps hop down to the ground to be taken in traps
The children of children trapped by dark skins to stay in and play in a game no one wins
The children of children while still young and sweet are all damned and programmed for future defeat
The children of children are trapped by adults who fail them then jail them to hide the results
The children of children unable to cope with systems that twist them and rob them of hope
The children of children of sin and ashamed keep pairing and bearing and who do you blame
The children of children cry out every day – they beg you for rescue and what do you say?

Strange Fruit- Billie Holiday and the Soul on Display

2012-12-04T10:01:00.003-06:00

"Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end:
For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at: I am not what I am."

-Othello, Act 1.1

I'm finding these music posts are garnering some attention. Perhaps my twitter following has expanded since last year when I started this blogging endeavor, or maybe the music I listen to while I write proves interesting to readers and authors alike? A lot of authors have music by which they write.

Victor Hugo once said, "Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent." Pluto wrote of music as a moral law. "It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything." Even the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, renowned for stating frankly that "God is dead" said that "without music, life would be a mistake."

I know not what music may be to you, but whatever it is and may be, I'll continue to post a few of my favorites for your consideration. The past three days have seen a flurry and I'll admit I get a bit obsessed with sharing the music when the mood strikes me.

I first heard this song in 2005 when I was taking a class on Jazz autobiography with the brilliant and insightful Kevin Whitehead at the University of Kansas.

This particular song was featured in the 1972 film "The Lady Sings the Blues," a horrid adaptation of Billie Holiday's 1956 autobiography, which I read as part of the course curriculum and enjoyed thoroughly.

The film, featuring Diana Ross and Billy Dee Williams, dramatizes this song by depicting Ms. Holiday witnessing a lynching while on tour in the southern United States. In truth, Ms. Holiday had little to do with the writing and performance of the song before 1939.

Written by the teacher Abel Meeropol, a white Jewish high-school teacher from the Bronx, as a poem. It was a protest song against American racism, particularly the lynching of African Americans. Mr. Meeropol, set it to music and with his wife and the singer Laura Duncan, who performed it as a protest song in New York venues, including Madison Square Garden.

Barney Josephson, founder of Greenwich Village's Cafe Society, New York's first integrated nightclub, heard the song and introduced it to Billie Holiday, a Cafe Society favorite. Holiday falsely claimed in her autobiography to have worked upon the orchestration with Meeropol, her accompanist Sonny White, and arranger Danny Mendelsohn.

I do not, however, mean to cast The Lady Sings The Blues as a poor work of autobiography. Many Jazz musicians with beautiful talents and poignant stories have sensationalized their lives and involvement in some of their more memorable works, Ms. Holiday was no different. If you are a member of a generation who has not developed an appreciation for this iconic vocalist of the 20th Century, I advise you to hunt up some good recordings and fall in love with her pain.

Frank Sinatra, who visited Holiday on her deathbed as she lay dying of Cirrhosis and the long-term effects of a long-standing heroin addiction, once said that "Lady Day" stood alone as his greatest of influences.

Bob Dylan cited "Strange Fruit" in the 2005 documentary No Direction Home, and Holiday's likeness can be seen on the mantle behind Dylan in the cover art for his fifth studio album Bringing it All Back Home.

There is something in the soul of a true blues singer, and true blues singers like Holiday are rare. They sing from places most people don't like to talk about in polite conversation and their magic and beauty is in the pain they've felt and continue to feel. There is a hole in the soul of a singer like Ms. Holiday that nothing can ever truly fill and it is sad, and it is poignant, and it as haunting like the black grows winging their way over wheat fields, looming like a raven on the bust of Phallus.

Anna Netrebko & Elina Garanca: The Flower Duet (Sous le dôme épais)

2012-12-03T22:53:00.001-06:00

Under the dense canopy where the white jasmine,
Blends with the rose,
On the flowering bank, laughing in the morning,
Come, let us drift down together.

Let us gently glide along; With its enchanting flow
Let us follow the fleeing current;
On the rippling surface,
With a lazy hand,
Come, let's go to the shore
Where the spring sleeps.
And the bird, the bird sings

Under the dense canopy, Under the white jasmine,
Ah! Let's drift down together!

This famous duet for sopranos from Léo Delibes' opera Lakmé, first performed in Paris in 1883, takes place between the characters Lakmé, the daughter of a Brahmin priest, and her servant Mallika, as they go to gather flowers by a river.

The lyrics are rather simple and benign while the orchestration and the harmonics of the two sopranos singing together prove quite ensnaring. To me, it is the perfect lullaby, putting to sleep all care and caution.

I am not sure how many people might have read my novel, Atlas, but for those who have, you may recall my references to this lovely operatic piece.

Why I chose it can remain open to interpretation, but I will confess a part of me imagines myself as a small child listening to this song for the first time in the dark and being drawn into the warmth of it as a moth to a bright burning flame.

It would be a pleasure to burn in the fire of music such as this.

Sincerely,

Benjamin R. Smith

Nina Simone: My Baby Just Cares For Me (Live @ Montreaux)

2012-12-02T15:30:00.000-06:00

This is one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite female singers. She plays the piano and I have a thing for girls who can do that it seems. Her autobiography was a wonderful read and I recommend it to fans of Jazz and "coming of age in insane times" stories.

"James Baldwin used to tell Nina Simone, "This is the world you have made for yourself, now you have to live in it." Simone has created for herself a world of magnificent peaks. Often compared to Billie Holiday and Edith Piaf, Simone is known as one of the greatest singers of her generation. She has recorded forty-three albums, ranging from blues to jazz to folk, and her hits like "I Loves You, Porgy," "My Baby Just Cares for Me," "I Put a Spell on You," and "Mississippi Goddam" have confirmed her as an enduring force in popular music. Her song "Young, Gifted, and Black" became the anthem for the Civil Rights Movement and thrust her beyond international stardom into the center of activism. But such worlds as Simone's are not without their grim valleys: disastrous marriages, arrest and the threat of imprisonment, mental breakdown, poverty, and attempted suicide. She has survived these trials and continues to perform throughout Europe and the United States. With undiminished passion and in her unconquerable voice, this is Nina Simone's powerful memoir of her tempestuous life."

A Smile To Remember by Charles Bukowski

2012-12-02T15:10:00.001-06:00

we had goldfish and they circled around and around
in the bowl on the table near the heavy drapes
covering the picture window and
my mother, always smiling, wanting us all
to be happy, told me, 'be happy Henry!'
and she was right: it's better to be happy if you
can
but my father continued to beat her and me several times a week while
raging inside his 6-foot-two frame because he couldn't
understand what was attacking him from within.

my mother, poor fish,
wanting to be happy, beaten two or three times a
week, telling me to be happy: 'Henry, smile!
why don't you ever smile?'

and then she would smile, to show me how, and it was the
saddest smile I ever saw

one day the goldfish died, all five of them,
they floated on the water, on their sides, their
eyes still open,
and when my father got home he threw them to the cat
there on the kitchen floor and we watched as my mother
smiled

epiphany

2012-12-01T13:35:00.001-06:00

(n.)

1. a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.

2. a literary work or section of a work presenting, usually symbolically, such a moment of revelation and insight.

People judge by what they read. In the past I have taken a rather hard line when it comes to publishers, literary agents, editors, and the like. I took rejection hard and my reason was simple. I felt I had earned something I had not really earned, the respect afforded a writer.

I have been in error.

Perhaps it is the odd changes I have undergone in the past few months, meeting a woman, becoming engaged, dealing with children and students on a regular basis... Somewhere in there I began to understand that what makes a great author is their reactions to negativity in their lives.

I myself have discovered something interesting in the past months. I have to be optimistic to get the best results out of others in my life and my classroom. This is a general note on comportment as a human being, not solely as an author.

The simple rule is this: When you are faced with obstacles, do not grumble about them. We can not insure success though we might deserve it. Moreover, brick walls are not there to keep us out but to give us a chance to show how badly we wish to break through to what is on the other side.

Getting mad or frustrated solves nothing in this business. I have also had the good fortune to have friends point out to me that while I am a good person, and a talented writer, my generalized opinions prove deterrent to my making any headway in this business.

Mea culpa,

Benjamin R. Smith

Character Profile: Inspector Victoria Rhodes

2012-11-12T21:54:00.000-06:00

Adopted at age 14, Victoria Rhodes took her name from the police officer who rescued her from an underground prostitution and drug ring. She has no memory of her given name or any birth parents. Her history of violence coupled with the death of her father as the result of a plutocratic conspiracy has left her weary of personal relationships and suspicious of all authority. She suffers also from recurrent nightmares and intermittent violent impulses that require intense focus to control without anti-psychotic medications.

Publishing A Play I Wrote Two Years Before I Wrote The Novel

2012-09-14T18:07:00.000-05:00

June Cleaver: Sexual Deviant

A play about family, women, pregnancy, and laughing at life irreverently.