Book review: How to Grow a Novel

How to Grow a Novel: The Most Common Mistakes Writers Make and How to Overcome ThemHow to Grow a Novel: The Most Common Mistakes Writers Make and How to Overcome Them by Sol Stein
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I’m a sucker for “how to write a novel” books and when How to Grow a Novel was on sale, I picked it up as I was interested in Stein’s perspective not just as a writer but also as an editor and publisher.

There’s some good stuff here and the advice is practical and precise, if sometimes contradictory. Stein both advises writers to read their own work aloud–and to not do so (because novels are read, not heard). He offers some genuinely interesting glimpses into how the book publishing business works (or at least worked, as the book was originally published in 1999, predating the rise of self-publishing through e-books).

I enjoyed the use of specific excerpts to underline the points being made but was less enthused with the self-promotion. The book Stein recommends the most is his own. At times he makes Stein On Writing sound better than this book, perhaps hoping to net a few more sales.

By the end, I found How to Grow a Novel more interesting as a reflection on the book publishing industry and less on the actual writing of a novel. A beginning writer could do worse (the stories of six-figure advances may be depressing in a way Stein didn’t anticipate) but could also do better, especially if looking for help that more readily mixes nuts and bolts advice with inspiration.

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Book review: The Tommyknockers

The TommyknockersThe Tommyknockers by Stephen King
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The thing I like most about The Tommyknockers is how bonkers it is.

This was my primary motivation to re-read it for the first time since its original publication in 1987. Sometimes you just want to read something that’s flat-out bonkers.

The Tommyknockers is the story of an ancient spaceship buried under the ground of a bucolic village in Maine facing off against a washed-up and suicidal drunk poet.

It’s the story of how that same town, ironically named Haven, gets dosed with some serious crazy from the ship, leading the townsfolk to tear each other apart when they’re not busy building gadgets that defy the laws of physics.

It’s extremely violent at times, filled with gory deaths and near-misses that King gleefully describes in loving detail.

It’s also a bitter and sad reunion between a pair of former lovers and friends, both changed, both beyond redemption, each struggling with their basic humanity, one rather more literally than the other.

King spent much of the 1980s under the influence of various drugs and there’s something about the texture of the story and particularly the self-destruction of Jim Gardener, the alcoholic poet, that suggests more than verisimilitude at work here. Though the novel suffers from what feels like a hands-off approach from the editor, with a few sloppy sections that should have been cleaned up or excised, the sense that you are riding along on a rocket of destruction both serves as a strength of the story and a reminder of how King was battling his own buried demons at the time.

If you like horror masquerading as loopy science fiction, The Tommyknockers is a fun (if too-long) read. It’s my second favorite “spaceship buried in the earth” novel, after Patrick Tilley’s Fade-Out.

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Unwelcome lump of something or other: identified

I went for a follow-up with my doctor yesterday in Steveston, where it always rains, at least when I’m there.

Also, the bus trip is long and agonizing. I mean, more than a usual bus trip.

But good news was in store.

The blood sugar test showed a level of 4.7. The ideal range is 4.5-6 so I am actually near the low end. My doctor advised me to keep doing what I’m doing, which probably means “continue to not stuff donuts into my face” and “do not treat bags of sugar as a food group.”

The other news was concerning the unwelcome lump. It is still unwelcome and that will not change.

Less unwelcome is news that it is the testicular equivalent of varicose veins. It’s both kind of gross and a relief to learn that it’s nothing serious. I asked if anything can be done about them but it seems short of some form of dark magic, they are here to stay. The good news is they don’t cause any discomfort and as long as I’m not working to get someone pregnant (I am not nor do I have this penciled in on my calendar any time soon), there should be no potential complications.

So good news all around. I celebrated by having a Mars bar. Yes, I know, it’s exactly the opposite of what I should have done, but it was a yearly indulgence. I promise not to have another before 2018.

B is for Ball

I actually struggled with this one, even though there are a billion things that start with the letter B.

And then I cheated.

B is for Ball.

Program used: Photoshop CC 2015.5
Cheat used: created ball using ellipse tool. Freehand drawing is for losers.
More cheating: used the Lighting Effects filter to create a pseudo-3D effect

In other words, I used about the least amount of my own minimal artistic talent as possible. I’m okay with that because I dig the totally retro border and Cooper Black font. Also, you can see the pixels on the ball because I was too lazy to figure out how to apply antialiasing. That makes it more retro.

B is for ball

A is for Apple

I am going to do the old shtick of going through the alphabet and draw something each day that starts with the appropriate letter.

Today, A is for Apple.

A is for Apple

Drawn in: Paper (iOS app)
Tool used: My finger

The combination of an inadequate tool (my finger) with inadequate drawing skill (my brain) has produced something vaguely reminiscent of an apple. It could also be a tomato. Possibly a short-stemmed cherry. Maybe an apple.

Probably an apple.

Edit: I went back and edited the image using Adobe Photoshop CC 2015.5, adding a snazzy (?) red border and explanatory text.

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The family, 1968 (?)

And to end the month here’s a photo of the entire family from around 1968 or so.

The family circa 1968

From left to right: Mom, me, Carole, Terri, Dad, Barry, Ricky

From the previous post, you can see my claim to being a skinny ass kid is accurate. My legs are sticks. I can’t even keep my comfy wool socks from slipping off. I seem pretty happy, though, possibly because I’m finally off the bottle.

While the fashions seen here are pretty jazzy, I am especially intrigued by what my brothers are wearing. The jackets are fine–they’d even look fine in the 21st century. But the black and white-striped pants that are inches too short? I just don’t know. No, wait, I do know. They look ridiculous. This must have been a fad, however brief, in the late 60s. Both brothers seem to be compensating for the pants by adopting tough guy looks. I think Rick may be holding a skateboard, which also helps a little to compensate.

I don’t recall my sisters ever wearing these knee-high socks except in photos like this one.

I remember the orange couch, though. We eventually got a green one with a floral pattern but for years the orange couch dominated the living room, demanding–and receiving–attention from all who entered.

Me, 50 years ago

I can’t really articulate how much it bothers me that I have photos that were taken of me from half a century ago, except that I’m happy to still be around and embarrassed by them. I’ve recently scanned in a pair from 1967. There’s no date beyond the year so I would have been between two and three years old.

The first photo is an outdoor shot of me and my brother Rick standing in the front yard of our house on Trunk Road in glorious Duncan, BC.

Me  with my brother Rick, 1967

You know, it may not be my brother at all, but the size and hair seem to fit.

Mostly I can’t figure out what sort of hat I am wearing. It looks like a motorcycle helmet made out of fluff. I seem mildly embarrassed by it. How ironic that in years to come I would willingly subject myself to far greater fashion crimes.

This next photo is a rare color one from the same year.

Me chilling on the couch, 1967

I seem much happier here and why not? I’m not wearing the fluff helmet, I’m snuggled in comfy jammies with the little feet built-in and I’ve…got my bottle?

Yes, that is clearly a baby bottle in my lap but as you can also see I am clearly not a baby in the photo. I have teeth and everything. This led me to wonder at what age you stop bottle-feeding your kids and I found a Time article that suggests the bottle should be taken away between 12 and 18 months. Clearly, this did not happen here, unless I was just keeping the bottle warm for the younger sibling I never knew I had. Mind you, the same study said that late bottle feeding increases the risk of obesity and I was one skinny ass kid.

But maybe I kept thin by ingesting all the second-hand smoke floating around. Every adult back then had lit cigarettes in their mouths, in their hands or in an ashtray.

I have no idea who is knitting next to me but that posture surely can’t be good for the back. Also, rad red pants.

Finally, I think my mom took this photo. The clue is the blurry digit in the top-right corner. As a photographer, my mom had two specialties: including her fingers as subjects, and lopping off the tops of people’s heads. I was too short here, thus my head was spared.

Writing group, week 13: Sun, people and words

In a highly unusual turn of event the sun came out today and temperatures almost reached seasonal levels. Almost.

Energized by the weird glowing yellow ball in the sky, five of us showed up 15 minutes early, which naturally meant the group in the already in the room was tardy in leaving.

In all, we ended up with eight, which is just enough for everyone to sit at the table. One more and we would have chosen someone to be the outcast sitting on a chair in the corner, Lottery-style. And given the gargantuan size of some of these laptops, I would not want to subject some of my fellow writers to actually using their computers on their laps.

The writing session went fine, too. I immediately jumped in and fixed the problematic house party. Changes made:

  • the first house party now has Christian actually go into the basement. It’s no big thing and is thus dealt with as a plot device. I may go back and remove the scene altogether in the second draft.
  • the second house party, previously fleshed-out, is now further expanded, by having Christian meet the son of the house’s owners, a young and pensive young man named Brandon. He willingly gives Christian a key to enter the study but refuses to go in (or to say why). I have not finished this scene but it’s clear things are not quite right in the study.

I’ve still got some further work to do in aligning other parts of the story, notably Miller Woods, which comprises a good chunk of it, but I’m confident that even if I don’t come up with fixes that will stay, I’ll be able to get the story as is on a proper course so that I am comfortable expanding it beyond where it leaves off now.

Time will tell, of course.

April 2017 weight loss report: Down 1.2 pounds

I have achieved the improbable and lost weight over the course of the month. Not a lot of weight, but some, so hooray.Here are the stats:

April 1: 166.3 pounds
April 30: 165.2 pounds

I weighed 165.9 pounds on January 1, so my total weight loss for the year is 0.7 pounds. It’s not exactly melting off. 😛

I’m starting to run more, walk at lunch (weather permitting, which has generally been horrible ALL YEAR SO FAR) and am working to cut down on snacks (no more chips in the house, at least).

Maybe by the end of May, I will have lost an entire pound from the start of the year. A boy can dream.

 

CLAWS: The Complete and Uncut Edition

A year ago I wrote about my unfinished epic CLAWS which is a mash-up of Jaws and Grizzly, written when I was 11 years old and busily imitating everything I liked.

I finally went back and scanned the story using OCR software, cleaned up the stuff that didn’t translate (there was a fair bit. The OCR program either doesn’t like the font used by my old portable Smith Corona typewriter, my writing style as an 11-year-old or probably both), but left in all of the typos to preserve the “you are there” feeling of reading a story written by a kid who wasn’t going to let spelling stop him from unleashing his creativity.

It is one of the worst things I have ever read. It is the worst thing I’ve read that was penned by my own hand. At times when I was re-reading the story, I became convinced it was a parody. I fancied myself quite the funny guy even back in elementary school, so it’s a plausible theory, but in the end, I think it’s just terrible writing lapsing into self-parody.

There is a temptation to do an annotated version that would offer commentary, sort of like you get with movies on DVD/Blu-ray/holographic projection where the director tells you what he was thinking for each scene, but in this case, it would be more, “What was I thinking?” period.

An example of that would be the introduction of the character Jim Fuller, described thusly:

He came up to Jim Fuller, a tall negro officer.

This was written in 1976, remember, not 1876. My defense here is that a) my mom described blacks/African Americans as negroes and b) eventually I got to the point where I gently corrected her on it. She was simply reflecting her own upbringing and I was doing the same, neither of us realizing the word might have evolved into a derogatory term, though I came to discover this on my own.

For now, you may “enjoy” this unfinished tale by clicking on the zipped file below (inside is a standard ePub document but WordPress won’t allow direct uploading of ePub files. I feel bad because the extra step of having to unzip this just to inflict it on yourself seems a bit cruel). Don’t read it late at night because you could end up having nightmares (over how horrible it is).

CLAWS

As a fun (?) experiment I ran CLAWS through the Hemingway editor and it’s not as bad as I thought, which nicely demonstrates how the Hemingway editor won’t actually stop you from committing terrible acts of writing if you are sufficiently motivated/unskilled. It reminds me of the Homer. Sure, it’s a car and it does car-like things, but would you really want to own one (unless you were Homer)?

The Homer

Here’s the Hemingway editor summary:

CLAWS Hemihgway summary

I was in grade 5 when I wrote this so was clearly aiming the story at my peers.

Dodged a bullet on the adverbs and passive voice tasked me even then. Some things never change. If there was an assessment to determine “sentences are painful to read” I imagine the website would have crashed.

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Run 488: Poop without the pestilence

Run 488
Average pace: 5:40/km
Location: Burnaby Lake (CCW)
Start: 10:21 am exciting new addition (actual excitement not as advertised)
Distance: 5.05 km
Time: 28:40
Weather: Overcast
Temp: 10ºC
Wind: light
BPM: 171
Stride: n/a
Weight: 166.3 pounds
Total distance to date: 3830 km
Devices/apps: Apple Watch, iPhone

I chose to start a little earlier than normal today because the forecast unsurprisingly promised rain, this time by 1 p.m. or so. These predictions are invariably optimistic, so I expected rain much sooner and then rain for the rest of the day.

I was correct.

In a case of deja vu all over again, when I got to the lake I had to go potty. Unlike the last time, there was both toilet paper and sanitizer, so I got it over with quickly, while pondering what exactly it is about arriving at the lake that makes my bowels and bladder loosen.

Unlike the last time, it was much cooler, only 10ºC instead of 15. We are on the second to last day of April and the average high temperature is supposed to be 15ºC but thanks to climate change or Trump or aliens, the weather so far this year has been much cooler (and wetter) than normal. I expect to see icebergs floating in Burnaby Lake in a few years.

10 is still dandy for running, though, and it also meant no bugs because they are tiny little wimps. I headed off and for the first km held back a bit, hoping to keep more in reserve for the middle of the run. In the end, my pace was almost identical, coming in at 5:40/km vs. 5:39/km last time. Total time worked out to ten seconds (28:40 vs. 28:30). The last four runs have all been pretty consistent so I think if I can keep running three times per week I’ll see the numbers slowly start improving again over the next month, assuming we don’t get spontaneous blizzards icing over the trails in May.

I did notice that by heading out earlier there were a lot more people on the trail, many wearing gloves, which is sad to see on April 29th. There were also quite a few runners, though the side trails remained mostly clear, bless them.

No odd incidents and no cyclists, though one puny off-leash dog kept getting under my feet as I was walking out. I almost said something to the owner but opted to keep it internal because people who knowingly allow their dogs off-leash will just act stupid and defensive no matter how politely you ask that they control their dog, because they are dumb jerks who should (and do) know better in the first place.

As for the rain, a few drops began to fall just as I exited the trail, so I chose to walk to Production Way station and take the SkyTrain home rather than risk a good soak on the last 4 km walking back.

It is now coming down in the proverbial buckets.

In the end, I am not displeased with the effort, but it will be nice to see a little improvement moving forward.

The Possible List

In which I rank the possibility of things actually existing, on a 1 to 10 scale, with 1 being “nuh uh” and 10 being “oh yeah, big time.”

  • Bigfoot. 4/10. Woods are spooky and many of them haven’t been totally paved over yet, so maybe Bigfoot is out there. But more likely not.
  • Loch Ness Monster. 4/10. Sure the loch is big and all but if a giant aquatic dinosaur was really living there we would have confirmed it by now with our fancy modern technology. 2 of the 4 points are just wanting it to be real because giant aquatic dinosaurs are cool.
  • UFOs. 10/10. Technically, UFOs exist, no debate needed. People see objects flying in the sky all the time that can’t be reliably identified. The real question is what might those objects be if they’re not weather balloons, swamp gas or stealthy government aircraft.
  • 9/11 conspiracy. 0/10. You fly a giant passenger jet into a building, there’s going to be problems. You don’t need a sinister government lining the building with explosives and deliberately massacring its own citizens for that.
  • Parallel universes/dimensions. 8/10. There’s just enough circumstantial evidence to suggest parallel universes exist. What they might look like is another question. Are there really an infinite number of me out there? If so I hope at least one of them has nice teeth.
  • The afterlife/soul. 7/10. I’ve been warming up to this as time goes by. While there is a certain cold logic in you live, you die, you get replaced by others who are born and the cycle goes on forever, some evidence is starting to emerge that suggests something may persist after the brain has shut down permanently, whether it’s a soul, something soul-like or maybe just gas. But something. My question is if there is an afterlife, why can’t people on the other side talk to us? After you shuffle off your mortal coil, do you switch from your native language to some kind of crazy moonspeak that the living could never understand? Is it a parallel universe where people can look but not touch? Is everyone standing around on clouds and reminiscing about the good old days when they were alive?
  • Ghosts. 6/10. Some say ghosts are just a form of the soul that hasn’t moved on to standing on clouds and talking about the good old days. I suppose I should really rank this the same as the afterlife, but I’m knocking it down a point just because every ghost hunting TV show is so dumb.
  • Aliens. 10/10. Do I believe there are non-human intelligent beings out there? It seems silly and narrow-minded to think that among the billions of stars and millions of planets we’d be the only intelligent life. And I use that word loosely, given the current political climate.