You may be wondering (or not) why I am writing a blog. Why are you writing a blog, Victor, you might ask. Why don’t you spend more time at your job, or lifting weights? Well, gentle reader, I’ll tell you why.
Oh, Wait! That’s Off-Topic. Update Time!
My novel is progressing soooo slowly, because I’m being careful. I have a lot of moving parts in my current work, and I don’t want to let any of them spiral out of control. And my last five chapters are coming together on my dragon novel. I made an experiment for a different cover (I’m on the fourth or fifth design now), and it was looking pretty nice, but when I made it a thumbnail to check how it worked, the color scheme and lighting were awful. I’m glad I checked it early, before I invested too much time into the texturing and details.
Because A Thumbnail Reveals Shoddy Contrast
I’m getting through the scales on my dragon, and I have another three books that I’m mulling over. I need to get through the paperback files for the Eastern Slave Series. Making the paperbacks is a lower priority, because I know I’ll end up tweaking the text on the cover files, and that will take time. I’m working over the blurbs as well.
And Now, A Word About Plotting
It’s often a great idea to embrace your short attention span, if you have one. (If you haven’t got one, try to cultivate impatience and a jaded spirit of “seen it all” –ism.) Why, you may ask, should you do such a thing?
Your Readers Browse Bored
Have you ever flipped channels on a television? If you are an exceptionally patient person and you haven’t, have you seen someone else determinedly flip, flip, flip? Readers often approach new books with the same kind of lackadaisical whimsy, and it behooves us to remember their limited give-a-hoot-ometer.
Plot Relies On Regular Velcro
Something needs to stick; some amount of action, or of wonder, or hooked premise must incentivize the reader to go on for another sentence, or another paragraph. People’s attention spans aren’t shorter than they used to be, but we’re all used to better presentation and condensation of information, and we consequently give fewer chances.
What Is This Velcro Of Which You Speak, Victor?
Have you ever passed a car accident on a highway? Did you look to see what happened? If you ever had drama-prone neighbors, did you begin to take an interest, however begrudging, in the day-to-day happenings of their lives (if only because you were hoping for peace and quiet)? When my first kid was born, we lived in the bottom half of a split-level house. Above us was a screaming person with anger problems, and we moved as soon as we could to a new place with nearly-invisible neighbors. The point of interest in my story is that I found myself, when we lived under this loud person, making constant notes of her habits and comings and goings, in an attempt to avoid the unfortunate scenes that unfolded upon occasion.
Books Don’t Have To Be Pleasant; Only Compelling
Really good writing often has an element of “is this really happening?” to it. This is sort of similar to the can’t-look-away nature of bad road accidents and surreal reality shows. We look at these unfortunate happenings not because we are horrible people, but because we want to know. We want to know what happened to cause the absorbing circumstance, and we want to see what happens in the end.
The bond was too strong for humans to understand, or even to grasp with their weak and impermanent minds. They were not strong enough, and they knew that their relationships ended only in familial setups and romantic ties.
His need was deeper than he thought it was. They were like plants growing together. Mary was close to him, and he watched her very often with the idea that she would go away when he had not remembered to look for her.
When he was made into a cyborg, she hadn’t really thought of where he was because she hadn’t known him then, or known that he would become a part of her life. She had almost died, and that hurt his heart, but when they had spent some time together he wanted to get away. Being close to such a weak person put pressure on him to live and be strong for both of them.
Tenu Nagoss had places hidden away where he could take him, when their partnership was found. He knew they would come, and he was sure they could find him without any of the fuss that could have lengthened the time between the searching and when he was caught.
He had told her that he would rather die than be away from her, but he did not know, from one moment to the next, if he meant it. His devotion was like a yearning tendril of young growth, the yellowed stretch of plant that promises to grow thick and green with time.
He had not yet been separated from her in any meaningful way, and he was growing comfortable with her constant proximity. He did not understand the strength of the bond that tied him to her. He had felt it clearly enough when she had been dying, but his idea of the permanence of their relation to each other was immature and short-sighted.
A part of him looked into the future and saw, with the inevitability of the sunrise, his absorption into the alien empire. His master would come looking for him; he knew this. Mary would die, if he was unable to kill his master, and he would be whisked away to one of Tenu Nagoss’s hidden workshops.
This knowledge of what must be rested, like a subterranean building, beneath Ethan’s movements as he drew the flimsy fabric over his blood-stained skin. The robe, having been designed for humans, was too small for him, and his newly-restored inserts made shining bulges beneath the white cloth.
Drama: Fodder For Fiction
We can remember that there is nothing so compelling to the human mind as story, and we can comfort ourselves with the reassurance that ugly and embarrassing stories suck us in as easily as intellectually-stimulating writing. Your audience is often bored; if you embrace the help of your own hopefully-limited attention span, you can exploit the potential of your characters and situations to make an artistic train-wreck that many readers won’t want to look away from.
You’re reading a blog about writing by Victor Poole. My books are here. I have a lot of work to do, and I’m avoiding some of it because relaxing is a new skill for me (and I’m enjoying myself).