A Lesson on Dating Your Story

I found a note I'd written on Facebook back in 2009 and after reading it, this whole thing about dating your stories is much clearer. I hadn't realized back then what I was really writing about. But, let me share it here and you will see the elements of time and distance as it happens in relationships. Take from it what you will, but I enjoyed reminiscing! All based on true stories.

Fishing (22 years ago)

He baits my hook and shows me how to cast. I think I am doing pretty good, but am embarrassed.

I think to myself that he looks so cool doing something totally foreign to me, but I want to spend time with him and learn what he's doing and learn why it's something he enjoys. I love him so much and want to be a part of his world.

My heart skips a beat when I feel a nibble on my line.

I jump, "Oh my goodness...what was that?"

He smirks, "Just a nibble...let me show you how to hook one when that happens."

He comes over and puts his arms around me and gently guides my hands over the pole. I'm hoping he doesn't feel my sudden reaction. I guess he could make fun of me and laugh at my incompetence but he doesn't. I know I love him that much more.

Shortly into the day, I manage to tangle my line. He fixes it with a smile on his face. I also manage to let go of an entire "rigged" pole. We watch it float away. It was probably REALLY expensive, too.

His response is an amused chuckle and a gentle smile of tolerance and admiration.



Fast forward 22 years

He's prepping our daughter's rod. I try to be helpful and prep ours to save time. I do it wrong, of course. I tangle one line accidentally...now he's pissed. I forgot to loop the line over some stupid lip. Duh.

I back away and let him fix it.

I check my Blackberry for updates. One update on Twitter...OMG, a celebrity just posted another pic! Facebook update from three friends. Spend some time reading updates on the Blackberry.

He scowls at me and hands me a freshly baited pole.

I thank him, wondering if I should post a Twitter comment and respond to my friends on Facebook. I decide no. He might get pissed. I can't be so blatant about it.

Fish are not nibbling. Maybe I don't notice because I'm tuned into crackberry notifications. Either way, no notifications, but my daughter catches a fish! Her friend catches a fish! OMG. Time to take a picture...NOBODY MOVE!!!!! Pictures captured, moments saved!! WOOHOO!

Maybe I can post them to Facebook? I look over and he's watching. I quietly slip my Blackberry into my pocket.

Back to baiting, waiting, listening....nothing! I'm impatient. Maybe it's the crackberry calling me. I wonder if I can type blindly with my hand in my pocket.

I let go one hand and the rig falls from the pier. Into the ocean. Not good.


Suddenly, my Twitter feed updates and the crackberry bleeps. I pretend I don't hear it. He pretends he doesn't know I'm pretending. We both just watch as the pole floats away.



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The Day I Started Writing

by Stephanie Faris

It all started with an anthology. I was working as director of public relations for the Tennessee Arts Commission at the time and my assignment was to promote this new book of short stories by Tennessee writers. As I read the book, I started feeling the need to write a story of my own. Something deep involving sweet tea and front porches.

Instead I wrote a short story called The Gymnasium Memorial. It was about a bunch of teens mourning the death of a fellow student. It was published in one of those scam publications that pays you in free copies if you “win” a fake contest. But the bug had already bitten. I wanted to write a book.

My first inclination was to write young adult. I’d spent my teen years reading YA books and they still weighed heavily on my mind. I wrote three books before I learned that there was no market for YA at the time—unless you wanted to be paid $1,000 to ghostwrite a Sweet Valley High or Nancy Drew book. I began searching for something that had that same youthful spirit but actually occupied space on bookshelves.

The answer was in category romance. Those books, which at the time were published under two major names (Harlequin and Silhouette), were extremely popular. Harlequin had a new romantic comedy line called Love and Laughter, while Silhouette had a fun line called Yours Truly. I knew then that romantic comedy was my niche.

I spent years trying to get published—I even got “close” a few times. I learned “close” doesn’t mean a thing in publishing. Meanwhile, chick lit came and went and in its wake, romantic comedy was no longer welcome in traditional publishing. But the good news was, children’s literature exploded…opening publishers up to the very types of books that I’d always wanted to write.

My writing journey is an example of the winding path many writers take on the way to publication. Everyone’s experience is different, but one thing is certain: all of us are doing exactly what we want to do. Whether we’re publishing our third book or writing “the end” on the first novel we’ve ever written, it’s important to celebrate every second of it. There’s nothing better.

And the Cover Reveal of Stephanie's new book out in 2016

About the Author:

Stephanie Faris knew she wanted to be an author from a very young age. In fact, her mother often told her to stop reading so much and go outside and play with the other kids. After graduating from Middle Tennessee State University with a Bachelor of Science in broadcast journalism, she somehow found herself working in information technology. But she never stopped writing.

Stephanie is the Simon & Schuster author of 30 Days of No Gossip and 25 Roses, as well as the upcoming Piper Morgan series. When she isn’t crafting fiction, she writes for a variety of online websites on the topics of business, technology, and her favorite subject of all—fashion. She lives in Nashville with her husband, a sales executive.



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New Design Launch and Snow Leopard Excerpt

This is not the story I'd promised with the launch of my new look and feel for Are We There Yet? Instead, I'm sharing with you the things which keep me captivated in this world of reading and writing fiction: a world where our protagonists, villains, antagonists, and other supporting characters spring from the imaginations of writers who use nothing more than mere words to engage us and suck us into the madness.

Madness?! What do you mean madness?

Freaky mad!!  Or just freaky?

What else would you call it when you block yourself off from the rest of the world to drink in the surroundings of some fictional tale involving murder, mayhem, and chaos? Or a futile fair tale romance that could never be because, in reality, we're not as perfectly beautiful, wealthy, and flawless as our fictional heroes and heroines?

The things that captivate me while reading a fictional story is the imagery. The way a writer can describe a sound or color.  I like Steven King's description of the sound made by a hungry stray dog while ripping hair from the scalp of a dead man. It was in his book Gerald's Game.  The scene was hideously gruesome, and so vividly clear that I could actually hear the sound itself, even though I would never have imagined it before.

Another thing that I like is the bringing together, in an artistic way, events which trigger a particular emotion. Sort of like in Enchantment, where Orson Scott Card describes the villainous witch, Baba Yaga. She is brushing her hair in front of this magical mirror which makes her look young and beautiful. She hums a tune while her husband watches in disgust. Through his own eyes, he sees a witch-like, wrinkled, and hideously grotesque blob. It makes you kind of forget how evil and awful she is for a moment, and you feel pity for her.  Amazing, isn't it?

Yes, it's madness, sort of. Who in their right mind would feel sympathy for an evil, villainous, sub-human monster? If written well, I would.

And since I didn't share with you a story, here's an excerpt from one of my first short stories published on Amazon, Snow Leopard. But first, a one sentence blurb to put things in context.

A human specimen is prepared for the surgical removal of her scalp, which will be transfused onto the crown of a tribal leader, King to a subhuman species of feline crossbreeds.

The surgical lines outlined the subject's forehead with a path leading toward the nape of the neck. Fiona placed both hands in the middle of the subject's forehead. She sank two nails into the flesh and dark droplets of blood seeped onto the clean surface of the skin, one droplet meandering down the slope of the nose, sinking into the crevice of the nostril, and finding its way to the lips, where it emptied itself like a creek into the mouth of a river.

They worked better than a scalpel, moving to either side of each temple and then around the ears. Fiona continued with the incision until she reached the endpoint at the back of the neck, not missing any strands of the precious red mane. When the incision was complete, Fiona looked at Franz and nodded.  

He reached over and pinched the edges of the subject's exposed skin at the top of the forehead, careful to maintain a grip, the blood slipping between his fingers. He was not a surgeon, yet grateful for not having to maintain his nails like Fiona. 

He pulled the bloody skin away from the skull. It peeled much like the skin of a grape. He maintained the integrity of the incision by following along the slit, pulling the skin away from the thin membrane protecting the skull. When the entire scalp was free, he plopped the newly acquired piece onto the slab of ice. He would later wheel it into the adjoining room, where lay Han, the tribe leader awaiting his prized mane of red human hair. 

What captivates you and keeps you engrossed in a fictional world?



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Top 10 Character Flaws That Don't Work For Me

I read once (or maybe more than once, but who's counting?) that characters are more likable when they are flawed, and to some extent, I believe this to be true. I have my favorite characters who are all flawed in many ways, but there are those characters who are beginning to pick at that last nerve. They're so cliched and I wonder why they are chosen over and over again as the favored protagonist or one of the main characters. I don't like them any more because I see them everywhere!


The Millionaire Philanderer

I don't understand this. Why is it that the guys who have money must be portrayed as weak when it comes to women in pursuit? Stop letting these women drape on you like a cheap suit! Sling them to the side and show some self-respect. This is similarly done with the rock stars toting around their posse and loyal groupie bangers. And why are they always extremely handsome? Ever see Donald Trump or Hugh Hefner? For real...

The Deep Dark Secret Sufferer

A great way to expose a flaw for a character who has a secret is for them to perform some odd behaviors like visit a secret grave on the 3rd of each month, or something equally odd. Stop giving them permission to be emotionally erratic toward others with no explanation whatsoever only to have character A tell character B, "Oh, his mother died in a freak accident back in 2010 and he's never really recovered from it. A year later his sister was ate up by some flesh-eating bacteria she got at summer camp."

Of course, this sort of thing might work in a comedic rendition of some reality shows I watch for pure entertainment.


The Damsel In Distress

I'm tired of distress getting rewarded just because it is the more attractive option to the male ego. What about the woman who refuses to be rescued and this causes a man to leave her side and ultimately results in his saving a bus load of children?

Yea, women understand sacrifice, too. We know other shit is going on out there other than ourselves. Some of us can save ourselves. We can also help save others as well. Go save yourself a puppy or something! Readers will LOVE you. I promise.

The Chip on the Shoulder

This dude needs to get out of his own way. Nobody likes this anymore! The bad guys are losing steam because there are too many of them. You know, the opposite of this flaw is the shy guy. I  love me a shy guy, too. Please let's do away with the wise-cracking assholes and invite the John Nash's into our stories, because you can't have enough of A Beautiful Mind.


The Jealous Woman

Jealousy has always been an ugly thing to me, especially in a woman. If you're going to make your character a jealous one, at least give them some redeeming quality like having them internalize it rather than going all out ninja on a bitch. I guess what I'm saying is that jealousy can make a character vulnerable, therefore likable, just don't let it shine in all its ugliness by having your character act upon her jealousies, because then it becomes completely unlikable.

A "like" plus an "unlike" kind of cancel each other out, so what's the point? Unless you're building a villain, in which case all out ninja would be just fine.

The Pained Drunkard/Addict

Sometimes this is done well and I feel bad for the character. Most times I think the character deserves what's coming to them. I'm unsympathetic to these characters. Yes, even though I drink beer and one might consider me an alcoholic for doing so, I still abhor such characters who cannot rise above their addictions.

I want to sympathize, but at the same time it's hard not to want to punch this character in the face and shout. Come on already! You have to get up and be at the courthouse first thing in the morning, you oaf. Put the vodka away for Christ's sake!


The "I  Lost My Entire Family" Victim

I know what it's like to lose a loved one. I lost my father in 1992, my mother in 2006, and my grandmother in 2009. Trust me, putting them all together at the same time doesn't make the pain worse; it makes you more an asshole trying to get a bigger reaction from your reader. How can it be even more painful? Kill the grandmother too!

Trust me tragedy is fine if you do it right. But, if done wrong, the author comes across as trying to make double and triple sure that the reader sympathizes with their character. The character is devastated. He didn't just lose his beloved wife. He lost his daughter, their two dogs, the cat, and their pet goldfish. How could you not feel horrible for this guy? STOP it!


The Washed Up Hero

This always happens in sequels or starts out the very first scene with the hero, washed up and ready to commit suicide. Don't worry! You'll soon find out why he was so miserable. Hello Mel Gibson, Lethal Weapon. Loved the movie. Suicidal would be lost in translation in the written form, IMHO.

The visual is a different story though. The tears, red eyes, shaking hand with gun self-directed at his head. Don't do it! Aw, everything will be okay. Whatever it is bothering you, it will work out. It's the beginning of the movie and we have another hour and a half for things to get better. Plus, you're the star of this movie, so you can't die just yet. There, there, put the gun down.

The Arrogant Entrepreneur/Estate Owner

I just read a post today and found out that there is a romance novel "genre" (?) which caters to this situation. I believe it's called Regency Harlequins. I'll research it more and make an addendum here when I have the chance. But honestly, I don't see the draw to such a thing. There's nothing particularly romantic about having to deal with an estate. Been there, done it. It's a huge pain in the ass.


The Stubborn Rebel

The romance novels I've read years ago were not the same as they are today. The men in those books were men. Pure men. They were arrogant, not stubborn. They were righteous, not rebellious. They were businessmen, doctors, professors, and pilots. The romance was written for a different culture back then.

But, I've tried to read romances these days and I can't. It's too painful. The men are like boys. Stubborn, like when a mother tries to get her son to eat his veggies. Yeah, that kind of rebelliousness is not romantic to me. I want a man in this story, not a two year old. Dammit, I'm dating myself.

Are there character flaws that just don't work for you? Did I point out a character flaw here that you actually like and felt that I didn't do it the justice it deserves? Well, come yell at me about it! Or just leave a polite comment. :)






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The Immersion Excursion

Have you ever picked up a book and read it from front to back in one sitting? Those are the books you discover by surprise.

Maybe you've experienced a story written by an author you'd never heard of, or one who created a one hit wonder and never wrote another word. How sad. I've read a few myself and now I ponder what glued me to my seat long enough to read an entire story without a break, not even for a bite to eat.


Dialogue

One common element shared by the quick reads I've discovered are the dialogue sequences. They're not thrown together simply to provide white space, making the pages less daunting. I recall meaningful dialogue, the kind which delivers progress in character development and plot.

And remember, the importance of dialogue is as much about what is said as it is about what is not said.


Setting

The setting is another element which completely immerses me into a story. It must be vividly clear to me where I am while experiencing the story. Recall Middle-earth in Lord of the Rings, Hogwarts in the Harry Potter series, and the land of Oz in The Wizard of Oz. All unique worlds, very distinct and memorable.

Don't be afraid to share your world. It makes the difference in the reader feeling welcome. When a visitor comes to your house, do you give them a tour or do you confine them to one room?


The 8 senses

When I was in high school, there were only 5 senses we were taught in health education and those were: sight, sound, touch, smell, and taste. Today, we include the senses of time, space, and the unknown. I give examples of each in a post I shared back in 2011.

When you use this technique, I am so focused and entertained, I have no interest in being tantalized in the real world with seeing, tasting, smelling, or anything else. It's like magic to me because the words show me what I already know, therefore, I'm relating on a whole different level, entranced!

Detail in Descriptions

When I read something familiarly exquisite, I stick around. That means I feel comforted when I encounter the details of an item in a story such as a Sesame Seed Biscotti or French Vanilla flavored coffee. Don't be lazy. Share the details. 

The added details give me a sense that I belong where I am; therefore, I have no interest in moving away from the story. I'll keep going because the comfort level is more enticing than putting down the book to go and find something general and bland which I hadn't thought of just yet. 

I further share Dialogue, Detail, and Description in an earlier post.

Voice

This is an element I don't read about often, but I know what it is and what it does for me. Voice is something that is important when you read a lot of books. It will save time for the reader when they finally discover the one voice which speaks to them like Vincent Price reading "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe. The way he dramatizes the reciting of the poem could be likened to an author's use of words and choice of cadence in the structure of their sentences.

It's difficult to immerse myself to this length these days because I work full time. But, I remember the days of middle school summer when I blazed through tons of Harlequin romances and wondered where the time had gone. I miss those days. I could immerse myself into another world, and these were the very elements which invited me to stay.

So, what keeps you on the page and turning until the very end?

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Spirit Island - The Passage

Another Writers Weekend has passed and I'm sharing my flash fiction piece. Remember, the log line is at the very end.

***

Gilda coaxed the stone crab closer to the treasure, much of which had spilled from its cast iron box. An array of coins and jewels glimmered in the sand from the moonlight casting shadows across the isolated island. An ancient oil lamp lay upon the bed of jewels, the circular lid barely cracked open. She'd made the discovery three days ago, but who's counting?

On June 12th of 1762, she fell to her death from the docks of Montego Bay. The icy, cold water had left her paralyzed and she had waited what seemed forever to be rescued. Nobody heard her cries and when exhaustion overcame her, she accepted her fate and let the salty water consume her body and fill her lungs as she sank to the bottom of the inlet before losing consciousness.

Several hundred years must have passed, yet it felt more like several hundred lifetimes. She'd spent these years alone, wandering the island, with no companion other than the occasional crab which scurried up the bank and picked at decaying shellfish left behind by the receding tide. At times, a school of porpoises would jump in the distance against the backdrop of the horizon, reminding her of the world from which she'd been stolen.

The stone crab inched closer to the lamp and Gilda sang to reward him for his progress. When he climbed over the lid of the lamp, it popped off and sent the crab onto its back. He flailed about with his prickly legs and pincers, and then managed to flip himself upright and skitter off. Nothing but a puff of smoke and dust had escaped the lamp.


It was the most exciting thing to have happened in the several hundred years of haunting this deserted place, that Gilda's disappointment cut deep, "Oh how I wish more spirits could walk this island with me. Why must I be the only one?"

Her ghostly tears fell and the island grew silent when the lapping waters on the shore slowed to a stop.

A stout old man rose from the shoreline, cleaning his monocle. He looked up and placed the piece in his left eye, then smiled and waved at Gilda. Two ladies arrived behind him. They hovered close to one another, whispering in each other's ear. Neither waved to Gilda like the old man did, but they nodded their heads as if acknowledging her presence.

What to make of all this? For several days they all stood around and looked at each other, the only means of communication being a polite smile and a wave. Several other ghosts had arrived and all took to the same approach for communicating. The disconnect saddened Gilda further. It was worse than when she was alone. At least when it was only her, she didn't have to pretend to be happy.

"If only there were things to do together,” she voiced. “Ghostly things, even.” Her altruism and naivety pricked at her soul. “We would all communicate and get to know each other. Oh how I wish we could communicate!" Still, the island slept and a few porpoises bounced from the sea.

"Excuse me, miss?"

He must have been a new arrival. Gilda had not seen this spirit before. His hair barely touched his shoulders and his chiseled chest peaked out from a white, silk shirt, open at the top. Crystal blue eyes waited for her to speak.

Mesmerized by his voice, she barely got out her response. "Yes?"

He held up a deck of cards. "Would you like to play some Rummy with me?"

Gilda's spirit experienced an energy level she'd not felt in a long time. "I'm delighted!" She had to work hard not to sound like a squealing pig.

Blasts of laughter and the occasional shouting in the background drowned out any doubt the next several hundred years would play out much better than the first.

***

Jase smiled at her and winked. “I love the way your eyes light up when you see me.” They had met several days in a row by the hollow oak in order to escape the gossip of Gilda becoming smitten with the new guy.

He stretched out on the sand next to her and propped himself up on one elbow, his attention completely on her. When she told jokes, his laughter was genuine. When she spoke of her past and her desires to right what had gone wrong, he applauded her without question.

This made her ache inside. If she had a working heart, it would burst from wanting to hold him. This aching desire to be in his arms had grown stronger each day.

“If only I could hold you and feel the strength in your arms.” The words had escaped her before she could stop herself.

The seriousness in his eyes she’d not seen before made her blush if ever a ghost could do so.

“If I could hold you, Gilda, you would feel the strength of something other than my arms. I promise you.”

He said it with such seriousness her soul fell for the lack of support, the desire killing her. “My goodness, Jase, I can’t keep doing this.”

“What’s wrong, love?” His voice caring, yet strained with desire.

“I ache every day I realize I cannot touch you and feel you against me. The day I died in that bay, I felt so alone. But now I have you, yet my desire is killing me. What is happening?”

“A ghost in love is a ghost whose spirit is dying.” He reached over to touch her cheek and she felt nothing but the air and the unrelenting, familiar ache.

She grabbed for his wrist and felt nothing but the impotent air escaping her clenched fists, “I don’t want to die without you!”  A jab to her soul, an aching for the tears, hot and flowing down her cheeks, reminded her of the inability to feel his warmth. “I wish we could live together in the flesh!”

When he leaned in to kiss her, the warmth of his lips coursed through her body and his arms pulled her so close she felt the pounding in his chest beat against hers. There were no thoughts, just the feeding of desire. He took her and she accepted, all of him. Silence fell upon the island as they celebrated in the flesh and sought to release each other. They cried out in unison at the highest peak, and when their breathing leveled off, Gilda felt Jase roll off and collapse onto his back.

“What have I done, Jase?" Gilda said as an after thought. "We’re both stranded now, without food or shelter.” She didn't really care about that, it just occurred to her.

“I’ll build us a boat.” He placed a kiss on her forehead and smiled down at her.

“The boat better be big enough to carry some treasure.” How could she have forgotten about that? She never even showed him the treasure.

Six months later, as they set sail with their treasure box, the stout old man with his monocle waved from the shoreline.  The other ghosts behind him approached the shoreline as well, waving and smiling. Gilda smiled and waved back while Jase worked the sails. She would always remember this place as home. But now, she was off on an adventure with the love of her life!

The End

My log line -A ghost finds treasure on a deserted island.

I hope you enjoyed this, and if you did, stop by the Writers Weekend and join the fun each week!

Just Bad Enough to Not Be Good

Thoughts from a Connoisseur of Bad Writing
-by David J. Schmidt


“Hikaru kumo o tsukinuke furai a wei.”

-Japanese folk saying. Translation: “Rice must be cooked just right—neither too hard nor too soft. This is the manifestation of perfection.”

I’ll be frank with you, dear reader—I am an avid collector of bad literature.

I am a literary crap enthusiast. Like the young Joseph Smith in upstate New York, I take my proverbial shovel in hand and head out into the woods, searching for those golden tablets of text that are a cut above the rest. There is a unique quality to exceptionally bad writing: if it crosses a certain threshold, it suddenly becomes immensely fun to read. I feel that the scale of “good to bad writing” is not a continuum; rather, it is horseshoe shaped, with good and bad nearly meeting at the bottom. Some books are so bad that they are able to jump that synapse and cross over into Awesome Territory.

One such book was a little gem I stumbled upon last year titled “Leave the Wine Glass Lay”. A friend of mine met the author in person—he came to her unannounced, like the Angel Moroni, to tell her about his literary opus. The author assured my friend, with a self-important air about him, that his book would be “the next big thing”. She went online and checked the book’s description on Amazon—and then immediately sent me an e-mail marked urgent, with a link and the comment, “you have to buy this book”.

As soon as I read the Amazon synopsis of “Leave the Wine Glass Lay”, I knew that I had struck gold.

Three things stuck out to me:

1. The modifier “all kinds of” is used twice in the first paragraph of the description. The main character, a powerful wizard, has “all kinds of magical powers” and encounters “all kinds of characters”.

2. By the second paragraph, we already have a full fledged cluster-eff of pronouns.

He befriends a 10-yr-old child, Laden, who finds the Evil Wine Glass at the seashore and invites him and his family to dinner along with his friends.

Whose family? Whose friends? Which he is who? Zuh?

3. The author went to the trouble of writing a quote of recommendation for himself. Unfortunately, he couldn’t think of anybody to attribute this quote to. All we have, at the end of the book’s description, is this:

This story is unlike any other and author Jackie O Brien is truly unique by writing this story.

I should note: that quote is also on the back cover of the book itself. In the print version, however, the author was nice enough to add some quotation marks—but still no person to whom the compliment is attributed. The punctuation itself appears to beg of us, “Come on, guys, honest, somebody said that. Look—there’s punctuation marks around it!”

That’s right, dear reader—I purchased this book.

And it was worth every penny. It truly was so bad that it became amazing. Where to begin? Well, how about at the beginning. Seriously, the first sentence of the book already has major verb tense confusion:

I am the wizard Translucence and the year was 1503.

The punctuation is devil-may-care and haphazard, as are the spelling and grammar. “Its” and “it’s” are used interchangeably, as are “they’re”, “there” and “their”. At several points throughout the book, the author appears to have forgotten what he’d already said—or lost the ability to scroll up on his word processor—and inserts sudden interjections like, “oh, but did I mention”, and “oh, I forgot to say such-and-such”. Some words are inexplicably capitalized, only to be written lowercase later in the text.

The descriptive language is just as avant garde in nature. This is one of my favorite quotes:

Another enchantment, I instantly thought as the veins on my neck puffed in horror.

I have no idea what “neck veins puffing in horror” looks like, but I imagine something akin to a bullfrog when threatened.

And the story itself. Oh, dear, sweet Lord, the story. It jumps around, introducing plot developments suddenly and without warning. The entire thing appears to have been written in one sitting, the author overcome with the white heat of drunken inspiration. “Leave the Wine Glass Lay” truly jumps the gap between good and bad, moving with Nietzschean boldness into that netherworld beyond good and evil.

But oh, did I mention that “Leave the Wine Glass Lay” wasn’t the initial book I came here to discuss, dear reader? No, the book that truly makes my neck veins puff up in horror is none other than “Fifty Shades of Grey”.

* * * *

The above-quoted Japanese proverb illustrates the ideal of perfection—something that walks that delicate balance between hard and soft, undercooked and overcooked—in Japanese culture. It is my opinion that the same principle applies to something that is of poor quality. For writing to be truly bad, it can’t be overly bad, like Jackie O Brien’s book of wizardly adventures. His book is too bad to really even be considered bad, in my opinion. Nay, I believe that truly bad writing must be just bad enough to frustrate the reader without amusing him/her.

Enter “Fifty Shades of Grey”, stage left.

The most infuriating thing about the entire “Fifty Shades” trilogy is that it walks that delicate, Japanese line of balance and equilibrium. It is not nearly good enough to be worth reading. However, it is not quite bad enough to be entertaining. “Fifty Shades” is just bad enough to be truly bad writing—drab, poorly constructed, unsophisticated. Its badness is, well—grey.

I am reminded of M. Scott Peck’s description of evil as “gloomy, monotonous, barren, boring”. [People of the Lie, p. 264.] And of C. S. Lewis’s depiction of Hell as a gray, drizzly English city with nothing particularly interesting about it. True evil is not exciting or interesting—it is uncreative and pedestrian.

Perhaps more infuriating than its mundane badness, however, is the fact that people pay money for “Fifty Shades”. At least “Leave the Wine Glass Lay” has been left “laying” on the shelf. E. L. James’s erotica stories have become a cultural phenomenon, sparking a mini-industry of merchandise, knock-offs, parodies, late night talk show references, and even involving the participation of Gilbert Gottfried.

Well, if you can’t beat them, join them.

I decided to climb on board the sticky, dubiously-stained bandwagon of the “Fifty Shades” phenomenon and write a satirical work of my own. My book, “Pirates of the Danube”, is not a direct parody of the S & M trilogy per se, however; rather, it is an homage to an entire genre of rambling romance-erotica tales. It is part “Fifty Shades”, part Harlequin romance, part “Leave the Wine Glass Lay”, and 100% awesome.

And it will be available for free this weekend. See below for details.

-David J. Schmidt



*One note on the Japanese proverb quoted above:

I wasn’t able to find the actual folk proverb, so I just inserted a quote from the opening credits to the Japanese cartoon Dragonball Z instead. But I swear, that proverb about properly cooked rice exists somewhere in Japan—a real Japanese man told it to me once, while he shared a bottle of vodka with me in southern Russia. But that’s a different story for a different time.






David J. Schmidt is the author of the satirical romance novel, “Pirates of the Danube”, as well as its sequel, “The Baron Rides Again”. The former, “Pirates of the Danube”, will be available on the Kindle store for free this Passover / Palm Sunday weekend, March 23 and 24.

Schmidt has received various recognitions for his charitable contributions toward the preservation of Peyronie’s Disease. In 2004, he was granted knighthood by the Basque Republic, becoming Sir David J. Schmidt for the following three years. The title was stripped from him by the United Nations Council on Fallacious Royal Families in 2007. Schmidt lives with his beloved ex-wife of 14 years, his two cats, and his indentured servant. He can be reached via his blog, www.donguero.blogspot.com or via email at thebaroninsideyou@gmail.com

See this link to find the book on Kindle:

Five Movies About Writers

I was reminiscing about older movies today. Not major mega hit movies, but the ones I can watch again today. I rediscovered these five movies. They are ones that make me smile when thinking about them.

What do they have in common? They have protagonists and/or supporting characters who happen to be writers. These writer characters carry, in a sense, some of my own spirit. If you haven't experienced these movies, please go out and buy them! I’d like to know your thoughts.



1. Funny Farm (1988), Andy Farmer (Chevy Chase) is a sportswriter. He and his wife Elizabeth (Madolyn Smith) move to the country so he can write the next Great American Novel.

However, so many obstacles keep him from completing his manuscript, including his struggles with the fact that his wife is also looking to publish a children’s book. I could sit down today and watch this movie in my PJs while having a cup of hot chocolate topped with those little mini marshmallows.

Andy Farmer (Chase): You don't know a thing about writing. You're a Goddamn schoolteacher.

2. Don’t Tell Her It’s Me (1990), Shelley Long plays a romance writer whose brother, a survivor of Hodgkin’s disease, crushes on a friend. Lizzie Potts (Long) transforms her brother into one of her stereotypical romance heroes in order that he wins over the woman he has fallen in love with from afar. Everything from his new name, Lobo, his tan skin, and new eye color, thanks to color contacts, conveniently disguises his former self. I won’t spoil it for you, but this movie is hilarious.

Lizzie Potts (Long): No! Annabelle! Don't play with the space heater coil. Piglet, if you breathe gas it will tie up all your available hemoglobin and there will be none left for oxygen transfer. Your lips and nail beds will turn cherry red and you'll die of carbon monoxide poisoning.

3. Misery (1990), Paul Sheldon (James Caan) is a famous writer rescued by a fan and former nurse Annie Wilkes (Kathy Bates). Annie kidnaps Paul (Caan) and holds him hostage so that he can write his next sequel to Misery, his famous series. This woman is psychotic, and when she discovers his latest manuscript involves killing off her favorite heroine, it is not good for Paul.

Annie Wilkes (Bates): [Right after smashing Paul’s ankles with a sledgehammer] God I love you.

4. Best Friends (1982), Richard Babson (Burt Reynolds) and Paula McCullen (Goldie Hawn) are screenwriters in a 5-year relationship. When they decide they should get married, plans are made to visit each other’s families, where they discover how different they are.

This is a perfect example of don’t try to fix something that isn’t broken. Separate, they are perfect. Merge them and it doesn’t work. The same reason you shouldn’t mix genres, but everyone is doing it, right?

Breasts too large, Richard? Every female character you create has breasts too large.

Just an aside:

You can tell a dude wrote a female protagonist…

She stopped running to catch her breath, her breasts rising and falling against the soft cotton material of her blouse.

5. Seems Like Old Times (1980), Nick Gardenia (Chevy Chase) is a writer who rents a cabin in the woods in hopes to complete his novel. Forced at gunpoint, he commits a robbery and then seeks out his ex, Glenda Parks (Goldie Hawn), to represent him. In the meantime, he is being disruptive with her new life and ambitious husband, Ira Parks (Charles Grodin).

Note: Glenda Parks has a house full of dogs, large and small. She even has one that looks exactly like my Biscuit.

Glenda (Hawn): You are making me crazy!
Ira (Grodin): I’m not making you crazy…
Glenda (Hawn): Anyone who forces me to make chicken pepperoni is making me crazy. And YOU are making me crazy. (Exits)
Ira (Grodin): [to himself] I’m not making her crazy.

Blast From The Past NOLA!

You may know I recently celebrated my 25th wedding anniversary, or you may not...I did.

Are We There Yet? is a blog about making progress and I look at milestones as progress. Thus, my blog entry on this day deals with time and how we share it with the world.

It is about my time spent in a land devastated by hurricane Katrina back in 2005. Katrina is a pretty famous event and there's way much more important information out there than I wish to cover in this post. I was more fascinated by an older historical phenomenon, the New Orleans cemeteries and their spirits.


Guided Walking Tours

Not long after we arrived, I rang the local cemetery tour agencies. Above ground tombs and voodoo magic were two areas I wanted to explore. I didn't want to leave New Orleans without having had a tour through the cemeteries and learning about the history of the people and how they buried loved ones, especially during epidemic onslaughts of yellow fever.

A two hour guided tour is well worth your time and dollar. It would have been boring taking a stroll through the beautiful cemeteries in New Orleans without the stories behind the variety of weather beaten tombstones marked with date ranges spanning the late 1700s to as early as the year 2011.

At first glance, these tombstones appear to be less efficient than what we're used to in the more modern graveyards of the south, but New Orleans requires a unique process in dealing with the deceased. There are more than a handful of bodies represented by each of these marked tombs, even some with more than one family.

Each body entering a family tomb is encased in a pine box and stored within the chambers for one year and a day, at which point the body is removed, compacted into a smaller container, and pushed to the back of the tomb, where it is then dropped into a lower chamber to further decompose with the rest of the decaying bodies similarly disposed in prior years.

We enjoyed two tours in the cemeteries of New Orleans. We visited the Lafayette Cemetery with the Ghost and Legends Tour and the St. Louis Cemetery with the Spirit Tours of New Orleans. I enjoyed both because they each had a spirit all their own, St. Louis Cemetery being the older of the two.

We even passed Nicolas Cage's tomb which he purchased in 2010. The picture to the left is the pyramid where he will rest one day. I can't imagine them storing his body here and then after a year, removing it and crushing it down to fit into a tiny box. I can hear the thud as his remains hit the bottom of the tomb. At least he'll be dry.

This is the architecture designed to work around areas where you may only be inches above sea level. When you think of it in that respect, this is unique to New Orleans and the reasoning for its design is fascinating.

The Garden District

Take this tour if you want to learn about the history of New Orleans and how the years between the early settlements and the wars and conflicts influenced the architecture and culture developed from the French Quarters (party time!) and the Garden District (affluent area).

This is a house which is said to be haunted. The spirits of those from the past still live here and you can actually feel their presence while walking around in the Garden District of New Orleans. It's as if jazz music, laughter and party goers linger, providing an undying spirit and ambiance.


The French Quarter District

Wall view in the voodoo temple of Marie Laveau

Take this tour if you are interested in the older historical tales which carry into the Voodoo culture and touch on a more traditional background of events behind the scenes in New Orleans.

This one ended with an actual walk-through of the Marie Laveau's House of Voodoo  personal temple, owner Priestess Miriam. I took plenty of pictures, but most turned out a little blurry because it was dark and camera flashes were not permitted. This is a painting which lay to the back, tucked away from the various shrines and displays.

How We Met Blog Hop

I'm participating in Melinda Dozier's How We Met Blog Hop! Head on over and sign up. It doesn't start until June 30th (their anniversary). My anniversary was June 12th so I decided to post mine just a little earlier! I also broke the 100 word maximum rule.  Oops, what did you expect from a passionate writer?

So...How DID we meet?

He was stationed at Camp Lejeune, NC. I worked for my mother at The Rice Bowl Restaurant & Lounge. He used to come in for takeout every now and again. I didn't much care for him. I thought he was a little stuck up because he would come in, order food, drink one beer, and then leave. I don't even recall if he was a great tipper.

He would always talk to my mom. He was really nice to her, but no one else. Then one day he mentioned fishing.

My mother said, "What do you do with all the fish you catch?"

"We let them go," he said.

"No, don't let them go anymore. You bring them to me and I'll make you sushi." 

My mother didn't sell sushi in her restaurant because it was too expensive to keep freshly stored and we didn't have enough customers to keep the spoilage down. It was too much hassle for what it was worth.

So then he started coming in more often, bringing my mother fresh grouper and tuna, which she happily prepared for him and served on a bed of thinly shredded cabbage with a dab of wasabi mustard on the side. I didn't understand why my mother was so thrilled that this man would bring her fish and let her prepare sushi for him. He would just sit there, eat his food and have conversations with my mother while I sat there waiting for him to ask me for another beer.

"Diane, you should get him another beer. No charge his ticket, it's on me."

WTF??

Something was unsettling about him and I didn't know what it was, until the day I discovered who he was.

"So what's your MOS, marine?" Another customer asked him.

"I'm a CID agent."

"Ah, one of them." The customer dropped the questioning shortly after, and via my great communications skills, I learned the following: MOS was an acronym for Military Occupational Specialty and CID was an acronym for Criminal Investigations Division.

Mind you, at the time, I had access to the military base commissary, which means low cost, tax free, produce/meats. Being that we were a restaurant, what better place to conduct a black marketing sting operation, right? He was spying on me and my family! He'd been watching us, following us to see if we were utilizing the military facility to make unauthorized purchases for the purpose of redistribution for profit!

I was weary for weeks and I spent countless days and nights in a cold sweat over the whole conspiracy.

"Don't be silly, Diane." My mom tried to tell me what a great guy he was and that I should be lucky to find a man like him.

It took several weeks to rid myself of the paranoia to the point I could even like the man, but when I did start to like him, I really started to like him. Then, after getting to know him, I told him what I'd originally thought, that he was investigating me for black marketing.

He laughed and said, "We don't go looking for work. We have enough work investigating crimes we know about."

He laughed at me and laughed at me. Then he laughed at me some more. As a matter of fact, he laughed at me so much that I started to hate him again.

Alright, so I've always had this grandiose notion that I was somehow important enough for any number of shenanigans going on around me, but I sure as hell didn't need to be laughed at for it!

I got over it soon enough. I think he fell in love with me because I was that entertaining. I fell in love with him because he grounded me, which is something I desperately needed (and still do). Later, after we were married for several years, my mother would tell us that she was so thrilled because she knew she'd found the perfect match for her daughter, and she did.

June 12th of this year was our 25th wedding anniversary. So in celebration, I'm sharing some older photographs as well as an updated one we had taken while on our anniversary this past June.

This is me in  May of 1988, almost a year after we got married. 

Tim and our son, Cameron. This was around October 1989. Cameron was almost 1 years old.

This is Tim and me with Chelsey, Cameron and my late Grandmother.

June 2012, celebrating our 25th wedding anniversary!

If you are unable to participate, please share with us how you met your significant other. Just leave it in the comments below!

Review of Yesterday and Tomorrow by Candice Adams

Yesterday and tomorrow by Candice Adams

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


I was bored, so I picked this up at the flea market. I'm not much of a romance reader, especially the more modern romances. But, this one was published in 1986, so I was like "Okay".

It didn't really do much for me and it's not an amazing story, but it was a quick read (a total of 2 hours). The only minor things I have to complain about is the verbiage used in writing it. I'm particularly not happy to read certain phrases that make me cringe, but in this book, those were sparse enough.

"His lips danced over hers with white-hot intensity" didn't really work as a visceral response and the visual of lips dancing is distracting in my opinion.

I won't linger much on the verbiage, but this one last sentence that sort of turned me off:

"Putting her hand on the door-handle, she opened the door."

Well of course she did! She wouldn't change her mind and decide to open the door with her foot, would she? Seriously, I don't appreciate reading the same words in close proximity of one another, let alone two! Granted, "hand" is not the same as "door-handle", but still, it was a bit jarring.

Aside from getting bored at times, this wasn't as bad a read as I thought it would be. Much better and more believable than one of the more "modern" romances I attempted to read. That's right, attempted (I couldn't get passed the 2nd chapter without calling BS). This one, at least, kept me reading until the end.



View all my reviews

10 Lousy Story Starts

by Diane Carlisle

When I’m browsing a book shelf for something to read, I typically just reach for anything and read the first page and if it doesn’t hook me right away, I might go to the second page or even to the third page. However, there are a few things that if encountered on the first page, I’m most likely going to close the book with a sideways glance and my nose up in the air. Bad, huh? I know. Here are those things that make me drop a book faster than Obama spending our tax dollars.

1. Please don’t start your novel with a weather report. You know what I mean. “It was a cold, dark night and the rain blasted the windshield like a windstorm in a desert.” This is the modern day version of “Once upon a time…”

2. I don’t like to read a first paragraph that starts with a character driving in a car, traveling somewhere. Why? Because it’s boring. You’re just writing what ten thousand people before you wrote only trying it with an arrangement of different words. It’s painful to read. Readers skip this stuff anyway, so why waste your time writing it? Instead of reading the words, your reader hears a song playing in their head, “I’ve been looking for love in all the wrong places…”

3. How many books must I read which start off with a character waking to an alarm clock or coming home to listen to an answering machine? And that phone call in the middle of the night? That’s not what Christopher Vogler refers to as the “Call to Adventure”. This is just another way for a writer to “start” putting words onto the page. When you get into the groove of writing your novel, please go back and delete this first scene. It’s been done. Over. And over. And over, again.

4. If you’re writing a mystery novel, please don’t introduce a nanny or butler. I will automatically assume they did it and not read the rest of the book. As a matter of fact, if I read the back cover of a mystery novel and it mentions castle, mansion or lost key, I won’t read it.

5. If you’re writing a romance novel, please don’t mention children unless they were killed off along with the ex-wife in a horrible accident years ago, leaving this gorgeous, wealthy, pain-stricken man, with a void in which only the virginal heroine can fill. Is that mean? Probably, but in reality, children and exs are huge in the baggage department.

6. If I read one more horror novel depicting a painting on the wall in which the eyes in the painting follow you and suddenly look away when you peer back, I will scream. And not from the horror of it either. Even the phone call which quietly yet urgently reveals the killer is in the house hasn’t been played out this much.

7. Breakfast in the morning with kids getting ready for school and a husband stuffing toast in his mouth while attempting to dress himself… is not a good story beginning. Why? Who am I to say it’s not a good story beginning? I’m a reader. Trust me, it sucks.

8. If I read more than one ‘ ly ’ adverb in the first paragraph of a novel, it gets put down automatically. This is a no-no. “The Baroness slipped gingerly from the satin covers and stretched effortlessly before promptly placing her feet into her slippers and daintily waltzing out onto the veranda.” Okay, that sucks, even without the adverbs. But, I think the point is made.

9. Don’t start your story with your main character taking a stroll through their house and garden. This is where the writer describes everything down to the detail, from the embroidered tapestry and cherry wood stained crown molding, to the French doors leading toward the rock garden and a ten by ten gazebo framed by white azalea bushes. Not necessary! This is where your character lives, day in and day out, right? Trust me, they’ve seen it before. Writers who do this are doing it for the pleasure of the reader. I get that. But it doesn’t add to the plot and it’s not really character development. Okay, so maybe the writer wants to show the character’s background, maybe give hints to the character’s class? She drives a Lexus; let’s move on. See what I mean?

10. If you’re writing in first person point of view, please don’t start with a physical description while your character is gazing at her reflection in the mirror. This is so jarring. In reality, do you think I’d actually walk up to someone and introduce myself like so, “Hi, my name is Diane Carlisle. I have brown hair, brown eyes and a slim figure. My hair is straight and I have a great smile.” I’d get some strange looks, wouldn’t I? Maybe after a short pause, “Why…of course you are! And, of course you do!” They’d walk away knowing I’m just a special person who rode the short bus.


So, your turn! What makes you put down a book before you even finish the first page?

Why Guys Really Are From Mars

by Diane Carlisle

Going on 25 years of marriage, I was thinking back to the times before we were married and it made me wonder why I considered marriage at such a young age. Not only was my husband the same handsome man he is today, but he was a miracle after having endured a few years dealing with men who really were from Mars. How did he approach me and ask me out?

"What time do you get off work?"

"Two o'clock."

"Can I buy you breakfast?"

"I'd like that."


I found out later that he needed to be up at 6:00 in the morning to make it into work on time. I didn’t learn about that during the date; it was much later into our relationship, when he was comfortable enough that I would realize it didn’t matter.


See how simple that was? There's nothing fake, no non-sense, and none of this hidden agenda and side stepping. There were just a few simple questions and a little bit of confidence and genuine feeling. That's all it took.


However, before my lovely husband came along and swept me up with his no non-sense swag, there were 5 truly remarkable approaches made toward me that deserved a rejection. I wasn't really equipped at the time to respond to these really bizarre approaches, but I can respond to them today. Here they are. Each approach now has a title and my official answer!


The Jail Bait

"My ex-girlfriend works at the Foxy Lady. Will you go there with me tonight so I can make her jealous?"

Um, sure. I always wanted to go to a strip club and get beat up by an angry, naked girl and end up in jail for sexual assault because I accidentally touched her boob while defending myself.


The Little Black Book

"Can I get your phone number in case I want to ask you out sometime?"

The priorities are all wrong here. Ask me out on a date first, then get the phone number. Okay?


The Fan Club

Rolling a joint, "Some friends and I are hanging out at the Mullet Festival this weekend. Want to tag along?"

The Mullet Festival is not a stage, you are not a rock star and I am not your groupie.


The Look At Me Now

He gloriously fans out 10 twenty dollar bills and says, "Would you sleep with me now?"

You had a better chance before.


The Self Fullfilling Prophecy

"I was going to ask you out, but you're not really my type."

I was going to say no, but you never really asked me out.


There was a Dilbert cartoon that came out this week featuring “The Topper”. In the name of my favorite cartoon, can any of you top these? Please tell me your story and give me your answers you weren’t able to provide in the heat of the moment!

My Top 10 Pet Peeves of the Romance Novel

I am not picking on romance writers. I’m picking out some elements of romance novels that bother me, especially when they are over done or poorly written. So, here are my top 10 pet peeves on the romance novels that I’ve read throughout the years. Don’t worry, mystery/suspense novels, you’re next!

1. His eyes danced across her bosom

Really? Aside from the fact that eyeballs do not have arms and legs and therefore cannot possibly dance anywhere, let alone atop her voluminous breasts, this just grates on my nerves. I want to pluck those pesky eyeballs from her chest and hoist them back into their sockets.

2. Kissing and flirting for increased sexual tension

When a story is already classified as a romance, there’s no question that there will exist a sexual tension of sorts between the hero and heroine. But don’t ruin it with the occasional stolen kiss or less than climactic romp in the hay throughout the storyline. It’s not necessary and it makes the consummation less meaningful and intense. When he finally “takes her” it should be all the way or nothing. Wait, that’s too much like real life chemistry.

3. The sardonic smile

Seriously, what does this look like? Does one side of his lip go up in a quirk and the other in a half-ass smile? Awkward, isn't it? Why doesn't he just smile after making a satirical remark? Is that too difficult to put down on paper?

4. His smile reached his eyes.

Don't you picture a set of stretched lips popping out from behind the eyes, gasping for breath after having climbed some mysterious set of stairs in order to get there?

5. The seduction by the virginal heroine, while the hero watches with obvious amusement

This is painful to read. This doesn't happen in reality. No matter how clumsy a beautiful, young woman's attempt at seduction, no male object of her affection is going to be watching with amusement. He will be involved from the beginning when she asks, "Would you like to come in for a drink?" This is not amusing to any man; this is serious business. Anything a woman does from this point on deserves his full attention, seriously.

6. Aftermath of the lust-filled evening

Why does the guy always get up first, leaving the woman to awaken, alone, cheeks burning as she reflects upon her behavior from the previous evening? Instead, I want to see her walk in when he wakes up. I want her to be fully clothed and in control. She drops a few photos on the bed and says, "My real name is Isabelle Gonzales and I'm a spy. I've been following your involvement with Cicero, Inc. We'll need to clear a few things up before breakfast." Exit heroine, wearing 4 inch stilettos and an Armani suit. But hey, that's just me.

7. Enter femme fatale

Why are they always a mirror image of the bitchiest girl in high school? A woman doesn't have to be a complete bitch to make another woman feel insecure. I'd like to read some fresh material on this element of romance. The femme fatale is over played and certainly under appreciated by me.

8. Good looking millionaires thinking that a woman is after his money

Right, because he certainly doesn’t have anything else going for him. Perfect teeth, brilliant smile, confidence, strength and a great command over the people around him -- no, that's not attractive at all. It's definitely his money she's after. Nothing like ruining a perfectly wonderful hero by making him a dumbass on top of all his greatness.

9. The big misunderstanding

Every romance has one. The perceived socialite is discovered to be a virgin. The hermit lumber jack turns out to be the CEO of a multi-million dollar company. Ta da! Surprise! Really?

10. Wrapping it all up

The ending of a romance is always the boring part to me. All the mysterious things going on have to be wrapped up by the author in such a way that you will understand why something happened that probably shouldn't have happened without explanation. This is also the part where the man gets mushy and drops the facade of being the strong, wealthy, confident man with whom she fell in love. He's become a wallowing wimp and she cries tears of joy over his professed love for her.

The End