Tag Archives: muse

In the Mood…

…for writing, I mean.  If you’re an author, how do you get in the best possible mood to write?

Face it, not every moment of the actual process of writing involves the seamless flow of ideas from brain down to fingers typing with frenzied speed on a keyboard.  There are moments (minutes, hours?) spent staring out the window, looking at a world that’s become far more interesting than the problem of figuring out what the next word should be.  At those times, you need a way to get unstuck.

To be clear, I’m not talking about the classic “writer’s block” where you can be stuck for long periods of time—months or years—and unable to get any creative ideas.  I’m talking about the lesser nephew of writer’s block—let’s call it writer’s clog—a temporary condition where your muse has already whispered the story’s basic idea and sketched out a rough plot.  She has since flitted off to Tonga, or wherever she flits to, and left you in charge of the actual writing part.  You’ve worked on the story for a few days, but all of a sudden words aren’t flowing.

Yogi Berra said of baseball, “Ninety percent of this game is half mental,” and I calculate that statement is eighty percent more true of writing.  So your writer’s clog problem is most likely a mental one.  Now, how are you going to stimulate your mind so it wants to write again?

The simplest way for me is to recall the thought process that led me to the story.  That usually conjures up pleasant memories of the initial enthusiasms, the high expectations of how good the story could be.  Back at that earlier time, my muse had just whispered the story idea and it sounded great.  At that moment, I knew the world needed to hear that story and I was excited about the notion of bringing it forth.

But let’s say that’s not working for you.  Consider using this interesting property of your mind—it can associate two things together (like putting two documents in the same file) just because they happened at the same time, no matter how unlike they are.  Let’s say the muse conveyed the story idea to you while you were in the shower, or mowing the lawn, or out for a walk.  Strangely, your mind now connects your story with that experience.  You might be able to regain your passion for the story, and relieve the writer’s clog, by recreating the experience.

Another method is to artificially create a mental association that’s easier to replicate later.  During the first day of writing the story, while the fervor is still there, the muse’s ideas fresh in your mind—you can make your own mental linkage by finding a picture that depicts something about your story (a scene or character) and staring at it.  You could burn some incense or put out some potpourri and stimulate a fragrant linkage.  Or you could play a CD where the music suggests something about the story, thus establishing an aural connection.

Now whenever you see that picture, smell that scent, or play that CD, you will think of your story and likely be in the mood to continue writing it.  Think of it as Writer’s Clog-Be-Gone (patent not exactly pending).

Do you think this technique might work for you?  Has it worked?   Let me know by clicking “Leave a comment.”  It’s down there right below where I sign this entry as…

Poseidon’s Scribe

July 10, 2011Permalink

A Little Prompting

Would you like to write a story but don’t have any idea what to write about?  Perhaps you often find yourself having this problem.  Once you’re given some external spark, you can write like crazy; it’s just difficult in the beginning to figure out the idea for the story.

In February I mentioned I don’t usually suffer from this problem.  But there must be many who do, given the number of books and websites devoted to helping people solve it.  If you search for “writing prompts” you’ll see what I mean.

No, I won’t be giving you a list of prompts in this blog post, sorry.  My aims are to (1) give you some sources of prompts and (2) suggest some ways you can become self-prompting.  It’s akin to the “give a man a fish” adage.

When it comes to books, I recommend Story Starters by Dr. Lou Willett Stanek, which I had briefly mentioned in a May 15 blog.  Her book is full of brief suggestions, short little prompts you can use to build a story around.  Many of them can be used as the hook–the opening–for your story, after a little alteration.

One website with plenty of prompts is that of Kelly A. Harmon.  Not all of her posts contain prompts, but they are a frequent feature of her site.  And she’s giving them away for free!  The only price is this—if one of her prompts is just the spark you needed to write a story, then out of courtesy you ought to leave a comment thanking her!

Let’s see, I did promise to help you become self-prompting, didn’t I?  It may not be much help to tell you how I do it, but my method just might work for you.  I assign the entire problem to my muse.  (Yes, I know my “muse” is really just the creative side of me, and therefore I’m assigning the problem to myself.  Just go with me here…)  Prompting is my muse’s strength; writing is mine.  It’s just a matter of workload assignment according to aptitude.  What’s more, as long as that’s all I ask of my muse, so far she’s come through for me every time.

Right, that’s no help to you, I know.  Here’s something that might serve you better.  If you examine the common traits of the writing prompts provided by Dr. Stanek and Kelly Harmon, you’ll see the following:

  • They contain a touch of the ordinary. Something links the prompt to everyday life, or at least something within most people’s experience.  In my February 20 blog, I called this the “seed.”
  • They may contain a twist, something that alters the ordinary and makes it unusual, or even extraordinary.
  • They may be related to something visual, a picture or image.  Vision is our primary sense, and seeing something intriguing can be just the thing to spark a story idea.
  • They suggest a problem for someone, or a conflict that someone must resolve.  The conflict may be against someone else, against something in the environment, or against something inside that person.
  • They may involve, or at least suggest, a strong emotion of some kind.
  • They come from the world around us.   You can be prompted by something you actually experience, or by something you read online or in a magazine or newspaper or see on TV.

Those are the elements of a writing prompt. Now you know how Kelly comes up with hers, and how Dr. Stanek wrote a book full of them.  (Don’t tell them I gave away their secret!)  Now you might be able to come up with prompts all on your own.  You may even find, as I suspect, that the initial spark wasn’t your problem all along.  Your real problem is fleshing it out, actually writing an interesting story.

Ah, that would be a subject for another blog post, perhaps one yet to be written by…

Poseidon’s Scribe

 

July 3, 2011Permalink

Aiming for the Anthos

You’ve heard anthologies are a way to break into the writing business, but you’re not sure whether, or how, to submit?  Well, you’ve surfed to the right blog.  This is an area where Poseidon’s Scribe has some experience.  Seven of my stories are published in anthologies.

An anthology is a collection of stories, often sharing something in common and usually written by a variety of contributing writers.  Anthologies appeal to readers because they can sample the writing of unfamiliar authors and enjoy a smorgasbord of different styles.  Publishers like anthologies because readers like to pay for them, payment to authors tends to be low, and sometimes anthologies can sell very well.

Why do authors write for them?  For beginning writers, anthologies may just be the easiest way to get a story in print and to start establishing writing credentials.  Also, sometimes the theme is so compelling you just feel the urge to write that story!  An anthology can be the very thing you need to break out of a writing slump.

In a future blog post, I’ll discuss how to find out about upcoming anthologies.  For now, let’s assume you’ve just read a publisher’s call for stories to fill an anthology.  This one’s looking for tales that involve musk oxen, the theme of the anthology.  As you surf the publisher’s website you see they usually publish horror, and that’s not a genre that interests you.  So you ignore that call for stories and move on.

Then a day or two goes by and you find you can’t stop thinking about musk oxen.  Your brain keeps re-chewing the mental cud of numerous story lines.    Some of the ideas might even make good horror stories.  What’s going on?  Your muse is offering you a deal  If you can stampede away from your comfort zone, then your muse agrees to whisper a steady stream of musk oxen story ideas, scenes, plot lines, and characters.

So you sit down to write a story about a musk ox.  Of the various ideas roaming the fields of your mind, which one do you pick?  Here’s my view.  Don’t select the most obvious one, or two.  Other writers will have grazed those grasses already and that lessens the chance of the editor accepting your story.  I suggest aiming for the edge of the anthology’s theme.  Look for a different angle, a thematic twist that will make your story unique.  Ensure your story idea still fits within the anthology’s rules, but just within the border of those rules.  Also, consider if you could market your story elsewhere, should your story get rejected for this anthology.

You finish your story and now you’re checking the anthology’s rules one more time before submitting.  Here’s something you missed before.  “Payment for this anthology will be hardened, dried musk ox droppings (or monetary equivalent).”  What the–?  Payment for anthologies is often low.  Still, if you’re a beginning writer, payment is not the most important thing for you right now.  Exposure is; getting a story in print is; establishing a writing credential is.  Plus you never know when an anthology can really take off.

The scenario above happened to me.  When I saw the call for horror stories involving fish, I skipped right over it.  My muse didn’t.  She wouldn’t let go, even when I explained to her I don’t write horror stories and asked her who would buy such a book.  Are there really that many fishermen out there who enjoy horror stories?  Shows what I know about what appeals to the public!  Dead Bait by Severed Press, in which my story “Blood in the River” appears, remains the best-selling anthology of which I’m a part.  Who knew?

For you publishers, the idea of a musk ox anthology is free for the taking, and please don’t credit me with it!  For you writers, please understand I am not publishing an anthology. Do not send any musk ox stories to…

Poseidon’s Scribe

June 19, 2011Permalink

Getting Words Down

When I began my writing hobby, I wondered about the mechanics of how real authors worked.  I figured real authors (famous ones, for whom writing was their day job) just sat at their keyboards producing electronic reams of high-quality prose, stealing glances out the window across the acreage of their vast estates.  Or maybe some of them lounged by the side of their Olympic pool with a voice recorder in hand, speaking the words that one of their staff would later type up in a manuscript.  Perhaps some of the older, less techno-savvy of these authors still used their favorite typewriter (remember those?), or wrote on paper with a diamond-studded fountain pen.  Again, the task of typing all those magical, money-making lines into a word processor would fall to a minion.

The daily routine of a real author, I imagined, would go something like this.  Noon: wake up.  Afternoon:  Do something to get in the writing mood, such as scuba diving, skiing, hunting bear, skydiving, or piloting your private jet to some city for lunch or dinner with famous editor or agent.  After dinner:  intimate party with one hundred celebrity friends.  Midnight:  write until four a.m.  Sleep.  Repeat every day.

Such imaginings did my psyche no good at all.  Inevitably I would compare my own situation to that of my fantasy author and find that I fell somewhat short.  I lacked not only the vast estate and Olympic pool, but even the diamond-studded pen and private jet.  Most of all, I lacked the long stretches of time available to famous writers.

Somehow I would have to make due with a computer located in a small downstairs den, a plastic ballpoint pen, and the short, irregular snatches of time I could steal from my day job and family obligations.

How should I make best use of these scanty resources?  Should I carve out an hour of each day and declare it my writing hour?  Sit down at the computer and do nothing else but write during that time?  Such a strategy would have the advantage of forming a habit, establishing a mental boundary that would keep other activities out and ensure a fixed routine.  The act of sitting down every day to write at the same time, in the same setting, would ensure a steady flow of output.

That approach might work for some, and how I wish it worked for me.  But my muse would have none of it.  I’d sit down at the beginning of my writing hour and think, “Now, be creative.”  But nothing happened.  Apparently my carefully arranged writing hour was inconvenient for my muse, damn her.  So a wasted sixty minutes ensued in which a few words got typed, the delete and backspace keys saw much action, and nothing of consequence resulted.  In frustration I retired for bed, first taking my customary nighttime shower.  Don’t you know—it was then the stupid muse decided to visit, with me naked and soaking wet, without a computer in sight.

In time, I came to realize that writing—for me—would mean adapting my schedule to that of my muse.  I’d have to be ready for her appearance at any time of day.  I formed the habit of carrying a writing pad in my briefcase to and from work or when going on errands.  I put a voice recorder in the car, and another writing pad on the nightstand.  Yes, it means extra work since I write by hand first, then type the same words into my computer’s word processor.  But I find the typing process serves as a first edit along the way to a finished draft.

As a story progresses, I hand-write several pages, then type them up and print them out.  By stapling blank pages to the back, I can then use my (and my muse’s) available time to edit what I’ve done before and add to it.  Then type and print some more, etc. and edit the result until the story’s done.  It may seem cumbersome, but it works for me.

Those last four words are the main point.  If a writer you would be, then you’ll have to work out the mechanics of the process for yourself.  I wish you luck, says–

Poseidon’s Scribe

April 17, 2011Permalink

The Worst Click

You’re a beginning writer and you’ve been writing and rewriting your manuscript.  For some reason, the actual product doesn’t match in grandeur the masterpiece you had in your head when you started.  The process of assembling the actual words, herding them together in some sort of order, made the whole resulting story seem more juvenile than you intended.  Not juvenile as in ‘written for juveniles to read,’ but ‘written by a juvenile who nearly failed English.’

You could go through and edit your creation one more time in hopes that greatness will finally emerge, but you’ve done that already repeatedly and it hasn’t worked.  It’s doubtful if one more edit will accomplish much.  Besides, you’re getting a little sick of the thing.  Your muse has flitted off, interested in different and ever newer pursuits.

Somewhere you’d heard that even the best writers let a manuscript sit for a time—a few weeks or even months—and then come back to it, able to look with a fresher eye.  In your case that’s not an option, since today’s the deadline for the anthology for which you’re aiming.  Or maybe you already did let the work sit for a while but it didn’t result in a better manuscript, just further loss of interest in the story.  In either case, this opus isn’t going to get any better than it is right now.

So you sit staring at the monitor, looking at an e-mail you’ve written to the editor.  The e-mail has your story attached—oh, you triple-checked that.  The file with the story is in the format preferred by the editor, again triple-checked.  The e-mail is short and upbeat.  Everything is ready.  All you have to do is click the ‘send’ button and your first-ever story will be on its way to an actual editor.

So what gives?  Why the delay?  It’s a single mouse click, for crying out loud.  What happened to that boldness you felt when you couldn’t wait to charge in and start writing the story?  Where’s that reckless abandon with which you stayed up until three in the morning last month to pound out the first draft of the final scene, typing “The End” in weary triumph?  What’s happened to reduce that bravely audacious writer to a quivering mass of doubt, consumed with fear at the sight of a Send button?

What if, you keep thinking, the editor doesn’t like it?  What if it’s the worst piece of tripe the editor has ever read?  It would be bad to receive a rejection, but devastating if the editor replied with something like, “It was enough for me to endure your opening paragraph, and how I wish I could have that precious time back.  I have many enemies, but none so vile that I would force them to read a single sentence of your work.  Not only am I rejecting your story, but I beg you, for the good of humanity, to take up another hobby—any other hobby.”

It’s that and a thousand similar scenarios that keep your finger poised above, but never quite clicking, the mouse button that would send your first story on its way.  I’ll write about dealing with rejections in a future blog post, but in this case you’re rejecting the story yourself before you even send it in.

Would it help if I told you that every writer goes through that the first time?  What if I said that no self-respecting editor ever sends a rejection full of personal put-downs like you imagined?  How about if I told you it’s only this first submission that causes such angst, that all the rest are far easier?

Since you face an irrational fear, one of your own making, there’s no works-every-time cure I can offer.  However, I suggest you dig deep inside yourself.  Remember when you started this quest?  You wanted to find out if you could be a writer, if you have what it takes.  This little moment of truth is part of the process, part of the writing game.

Chances are this submission will result in rejection, but that won’t deter the writer within you.  Oh, no, that inner writer will instead be spurred on, intent to do better next time.  That would-be (no, will-be!) author inside you laughs at rejections, even prints them out and saves them as badges of honor.  That confident scribbler within you knows that one day the act of submitting stories will be routine.  And on that day you’ll look back on this first moment of indecision and laugh.

So click ‘send,’ brave writer!  Hold your creation—your baby—aloft so the world can see.  You can do it.  I did, and survived.  As always, write to me here if you have some reaction to this post.  Now well past that first, worst click, I call myself—

Poseidon’s Scribe

March 20, 2011Permalink

Just Short Stories? No Novels?

Should an aspiring fiction writer start with novels or short stories?  Don’t look to this blog entry for a concrete recommendation for your situation.  I can only tell you the path I took and my reasons for choosing it.  For you, success could well lie on a different path.

When phrased as an either/or choice – novels or short stories – the question itself is too limiting.  There are a variety of other avenues for the creative writer of prose, including flash fiction, novellas, podcasting, television and movie scriptwriting, and playwriting.  I’m sure I’ve left out some options and many more possibilities remain to be discovered, or forgotten ones rediscovered.  Some writer will have to be the pioneer who leads these expeditions.  Why not you?

While serving aboard a submarine many years ago, I thought of an idea for a story.  So grand was this story idea, I was certain it would make me both famous and rich.  To truly capture this story, only the novel format would do.  I was sure my tale would seize the attention of the country and even the world.  I could already see myself resigning my commission in the Navy, doing the talk show circuit, and traveling to book signings.

Though chock full of enthusiasm and energy, I was less well supplied with writing experience.  I’d heard all the arguments for starting with short stories, of course.  But such well-meaning advice could be safely ignored.  It simply didn’t apply to my case, I was sure.  Undeterred by these considerations, I set to work.

Actually writing the novel proved harder than I’d counted on, which surprised me at the time for some reason.  There was a lot to think about, with plots and subplots, characters, settings, even a theme.  How to keep it all straight?  Confident that my future fans would patiently await the great opus, I struggled on.

The struggle filled some time, like two decades or more.  At the end of that period I found I’d created a manuscript of which even my desk drawer was—and still is–ashamed.  To this day, the desk’s immune system occasionally rejects it and I have to gather up the pages, force them back in, and nail the drawer shut again.

In truth I had more to show from all the work than just an unpublishable manuscript.  Without knowing it, I’d been honing my skills in a harmless way, practicing the craft and making all my early mistakes.

Abandoning that first novel, I started another.  But doubts had set in about whether I was cut out for this.  A novel is a daunting task and a significant investment of time with very uncertain payoff, particularly for the beginning fiction writer.  It’s easy for discouragement to build up and eventually overwhelm enthusiasm.

I then read The Mammoth Book of New Jules Verne Adventures, edited by Mike Ashley and Eric Brown, published by Carroll and Graf in 2005.  It’s a marvelous collection of short stories inspired by Jules Verne, all written by modern authors.  As a Jules Verne fan, the book inspired me.  I wrote my own short story, a work that would have fit well in that collection, or would if they decided to put out a second anthology in a similar vein.  That story, “The Steam Elephant,” appeared in Steampunk Tales issue #5.

That started me off writing more.  There are several reasons why I’ve enjoyed my switch to short stories.  I can churn out many more of them per year.  They keep my ever-fickle muse interested and focused.  It’s easier to test out different genres.  Short stories represent a good method for further growth as a writer while getting the positive feedback of more frequent acceptances.

At some point I’ll return to the novel length story.  The average non-writer doesn’t regard an author as serious until she or he has published a novel.  Certainly the pay for a published novel is greater as well.  Who knows, one of these days I may dust off the two novels I started, rewrite them, and send them out for consideration.  If you’re engaged in writing a novel equally as good, perhaps I’ll join you on the talk show circuit!  Until then, I’ll remain a short story writer, and—

Poseidon’s Scribe

March 13, 2011Permalink

What’s the Use of a Muse?

Like some writers, and people who pursue other creative endeavors, I use the term ‘muse’ to mean an embodiment of the concept of one’s own creativity.  To the ancient Greeks it must have seemed a supernatural phenomenon when some individuals produced poetry, sculpture, and music out of nothing, as if some deity were whispering guidance in their ears.  The process can still mystify us today when we encounter a great creative work and wonder how a mere human could have made it.  No wonder the term ‘muse’ has survived even into our scientific, rational era.  

Some writers have imagined the physical characteristics of their muse, even named it, and go so far as to speak to it, appealing to it for that spark of insight only the muse can offer.  Stephen King described his own muse, I think it was in his book On Writing, as a grunting, cigar-smoking old man.  I imagine my muse in a more conventional way, as a young Grecian woman with flowing robes.  She stands only about seven inches high, but is able to hover near my ear when she wants.

Here I’ll pause to offer a free idea to all you web entrepreneurs out there.  If piano students can have their busts of Beethoven to serve as inspiration, why can’t someone manufacture small figurines of muses for writers and other artists?  I wouldn’t underestimate the power of physical symbols to stimulate the desired mental activity.  If such a figurine was not too expensive, I’d buy one!

Every writer asked to describe his or her muse’s behavior would certainly list at least two major characteristics.  One is a perverseness with respect to summons.  My muse appears at the time of her choosing, not mine.  Pleading, wishing, praying, even sacrificial animal offerings leave her unfazed.  (Okay, I haven’t tried that last idea very often.)  I could be all set and ready to write, my materials before me in a well-lit and quiet room, several hours at my disposal, and the cursed muse will remain hidden.  But let me be somewhere without a notepad—say, taking a shower or mowing the lawn—then the whispering starts and I can’t shut her up.  Some of the finest prose ever imagined has been whispered to me at such times—trust me on this—only to be forgotten for lack of a pen and paper, and to remain forever unwritten.

The other behavioral trait of my muse is easy boredom.  A half hour or hour at a stretch is the longest stream of inspiration the muse will bequeath.  Moreover, the very project she was so excited about just a few days ago has become passé, no longer worth her time or interest.  She’s moved on to some other idea and demands I write about that.  Should I ever start writing ‘formula fiction,’ such as romance, mystery, or series books can often be, I think my muse would quickly grow bored with the formula.  She specializes in the planting of seeds, not the toil of watering, tending, or harvesting.

My muse craves the new, the different, and the untried.  Once, I noticed a call for horror stories to be part of an anthology associated with fish or fishing.  I, the writer who hated horror stories, quickly clicked elsewhere.  Silly me, thinking I was in charge.  My muse was turning the idea over and over, and wouldn’t let go.  Mere rational logic would not sway her.  My insistence that I disliked horror, had never written it, or read much of it–all those arguments meant nothing.  The result was my story, “Blood in the River,” which appears in the anthology Dead Bait.  I never thought I would write a romance story or a fantasy either, until the muse suggested the ideas for “Within Victorian Mists” and “A Sea-Fairy Tale.”  Often I’ve carefully outlined the plot for a story only to have the muse guide me in a different direction.  On occasion I’ve created a character intended to be minor, but the muse has other ideas and brings that character into the foreground.

So you can’t beckon a muse and expect her to arrive, and once she’s close it’s never for long.  How can any writer deal with that?  How does one channel that fleeting, inspirational energy into something useful?  Ah, there are ways, but they shall have to remain the subject of a future blog post.  So stay tuned!  In the meantime, feel free to contact me with comments.  With the occasional assistance of my muse, I remain…

Poseidon’s Scribe

 

 

February 27, 2011Permalink

Why I Write

It would be better for you, the reader, if I could title this blog post, ‘Why You Should Write,’ since that would be more interesting and applicable to you.  However, it turns out I’m not as well informed about you as I am about me.  In hopes that one writer’s motivations may apply to someone else, I urge you to read on nonetheless.

The simple answer to why I write is that I cannot do otherwise.  The creative, story-telling impulse is too strong to resist; my muse screams too loudly when I don’t write.  In that manner, it is easier to write than to abstain.

All of that is true, but it wasn’t always so.  I didn’t always have a story to tell.  Even when I did, my doubts about writing outweighed my desire to do so.  Of doubts I had many.  How could I possibly write as well as the authors whose stories I read and loved?  How could I ever hope to convey ideas and provide entertainment in such a clever and skillful manner?  I understood that writing took time; could I spare that time?  I knew beginning writers got a lot of rejections; could I deal with them?

Further, I had not done well in English classes in school.  Enjoyed—yes; excelled—definitely not.  In college I majored in a branch of engineering.  Engineers are not known for their language skills.  An ability to write well is actually frowned upon, and could get you tossed out of the Engineers Guild.  (I’m kidding, of course–at least about there being a Guild).

So, despite a lack of writing skills, a lack of confidence in my English ability, and despite an inferiority complex when I compared myself to the world’s best authors, despite all those things, I still took up a pen and scribbled.  Why?

Looking back, I did have three things going for me.  First, I had a strong interest in reading fiction.  Loved it.  Devoured books, especially science fiction.  Second, I am creative by nature.  I delight in imaginative brainstorming, but not so much with other people, as brainstorming is normally done.  I seek to come up with solutions to problems that are unique and interesting to me.  Third, I’m one of those self-improvement nuts.  Phrased more positively, I was willing to spend the time trying to improve a new skill.  I’m willing to push on past minor failures along the way to achieving a goal.

These attributes didn’t pop up out of nowhere, of course.  I was influenced by my parents.  Much as Jules Verne gained a sense of precision and skill with words from his lawyer father, and a sense of romance and knowledge of human relationships from his mother, I too was a product of separate influences from my parents.  Thinking about it now, my own parents separately bequeathed me important attributes necessary to be a science fiction writer.  Thanks, Mom and Dad!

In summation it appears that, for me, the impulses to become a writer overcame the opposing factors (the doubts, lack of skills, etc.).  After that, like any hobby, the snowball effect took over and the habit of writing became self-sustaining.  I found I enjoyed writing the more I practiced it and the more I learned about it.  My critique group helped hone my skills and provided an encouraging atmosphere.  Eventually, I felt confident enough to submit stories to the marketplace.  Lastly, getting stories accepted and published provided the most powerful incentive of all to write more.

That’s why I write, and if you’re wondering if you could take up writing as a hobby or vocation, perhaps some of the items I discussed apply to you too.  More likely, your reasons will be different.  Did this blog post trigger some thought of agreement or disagreement?  Write to me here and let me know.

Poseidon’s Scribe

February 13, 2011Permalink

Why I am Poseidon’s Scribe

I write fiction, and most of the time the setting for my stories is the ocean.  When you grow up in the Midwest, the sea is so distant and seems very exotic.  You can only imagine the smell of the salt air, the wind-whipped spray, and the mountainous wave cressets.  Saying the words “ocean” or “sea” is akin to screaming the word “adventure.”

You might read some Jules Verne and some Tom Swift, and become even more enthused about the mysterious depths, and man’s ever-advancing technologies for exploring and living in the sea.  Maybe when you grow up, you might join the submarine service.  That dose of reality might just take the magic out of the ocean, but in your case it doesn’t.  At some point, you realized a muse is begging you to write down all the stories in your head.

Maybe it’s not a muse, though.  Perhaps it’s the ocean itself I hear, the watery echoes of wakes left by all the ships down through history that sailed there, or ripples sent back to our time somehow from future vessels.  If it’s the ocean’s mighty voice I hear, then that makes me Poseidon’s Scribe.

Well, let us say Apprentice Scribe, since I’m still learning the craft.  After all, I’m trying to convert eddies and surf and currents into prose.  Something’s bound to get lost in translation.

The sea is omni-faceted, as it turns out, and my stories now span several genres.  These include historical, science fiction, fantasy, steampunk, and horror.  Not all of my stories take place in a seawater setting, but most do.

I’m glad you’re here.  Look around the shop.  Read some of the results of my scribbling.  I’ll use this space to share thoughts about reading, writing, and the sea.  So long as the ocean keeps whispering in my ear, I’ll keep writing it all down, because I’m…

Poseidon’s Scribe

January 9, 2011Permalink