Train Your Writer Mind Like an Algorithm

 

Fiona kindly allows me to share my musings (aimless ramblings?) here. She’s a great scribble sibling and a true friend. And this outlet is one reason I still write at all.

See, on my blog, I write about my wife Gaye’s breast cancer journey. In my day-life, I’m a jumped up accountant who doggy paddles against a 20-foot swell of imposter syndrome. Hour to hour, I often feel like I’m drowning or failing or simply failing to drown.

 

Yeah, I’m a “hoot” at parties.

 

Thing is, I didn’t realize until a couple of years ago that what I struggle with (mostly) is anxiety. There’s also a pronounced lack of coping skills. Oh, and a splash of immaturity.

NOTE: First/foremost none of this is intended as medical advice. After too many years of struggle I went to my doctor and got some help. I simply cannot recommend talking with your family physician highly enough.

I struggled before this diagnosis. Among other things, my anxiety often manifested in a short temper exacerbated by the previously mentioned dearth of coping skills and immaturity. Through counseling, I was introduced to Dr. David Burns’ The Feeling Good Handbook.

A comprehensive guide to adulting

Initially, I thought TFGH was kinda hokey. Who talks like that? How do I relate to this? But I take homework seriously and continued my reading. Then the messages began to seep through the granite-like substance that is my skull. 

The cornerstone of Cognitive Behavior Therapy, TFGH helps the reader through rational examination and thoughtful response strategies. Most importantly, Dr. Burns successfully proves-up the theory that your thoughts dictate your emotions and all-too often, behaviors. 

Yeah, yeah, the idea’s been around for well over 1800 years. I’m a little slow on the uptake. 

However, once I got it, (most of what we feel is due to what’s going on in the noggin’ NOT what’s going on outside the noggin’) my perspective shifted. Did life turn to gold, success, and ponies overnight? I’ll let you sus that one out. The point is, things did get better.

The most important “better” was my relationship with my wife. For the first time in years, I saw her as an ally and not an adversary. There isn’t an ounce of hyperbole when I say the book saved my marriage.

As always, this broaches the eternal question, “The hell this has to do with writing?”

Honestly, more than you’d think. I haven’t done a lot of fiction writing since Gaye’ diagnosis. Playing “cops and robbers and more robbers,” seems silly when your beloved faces cancer. 

Then there’s the day-to-day recovery—at the expense of actually living. 

It’s really easy to get invested in laundry, cleaning, and Walmart runs. “Oh, up early? That book can wait ‘cause there’s never gonna be a better time to get at that litterbox…” Then there’s that whole work-for-pay scam. 

They laugh at my gainful employment

“Objects at rest remain at rest…” Newton’s 1st Law

A writer must write. Failure to write carries scary consequences. The least of which is the atrophy of imagination. Which immediately leads to facing life, full on with no buffer. I personally cannot do that. 

Zeno of Cyprus, also a "hoot" at parties.

Just as we must manage our thoughts and emotions, (or they will certainly manage us) we must manage our creativity. Especially when you’re rusty, empty-headed, or just don’t wanna. So, how-to?

Pinterest—bear with me—is a good guide. You look at/like/pin photos of cars, Pinterest shows you more cars. Same-same for cats, food, or comic book covers. 

The (evil) algorithm notes what you seek and gives you more of it. Your brain will do the same. Anxious? No thoughts of kitties and Viennese chocolate cake for you. You get intrusive thoughts about your report deadlines, every stupid thing you ever said, and the last 16 arguments with your SO.  

Again, how do you change what it shows you?

For me it was nearly impossible to leap right back into cold-start creation. Instead, I opened the final (for now) draft of my manuscript that I plan to have line-edited. Sure enough, I found some tonal anomalies. 

After a couple of weeks, I began to think of a short story that I plan to expand to novella. That was not as deliberate as it may read. It was cognitive redirection. 

Listening to (White Man) in Hammersmith Palais, by The Clash—and I immediately know where my protag should be from, geographically as well as culturally. An article on the vocational/trade training renaissance and voilà, my protag has some skills that mos def will impact the plot/goals/stakes. A gag in a sitcom? Well, you get the idea.

Positive-in, positive-out. Focus on what nurtures your spirit and fuels your dreams and you’ll see the stuff of dreams more often than a blank page, (screen, you know, whatevs).

Your results may vary.

Remember the “this is not medical advice” disclaimer above? Yeah, this is a guide for writers trying to resume their scribble game or find a new grove. This is not medical/mental health  advice of any kind.

Again, I needed help and I sought it out. If you’re struggling, reach out to your primary doctor. If you’re not there yet, maybe explore your employer’s EAP program. Failing all of that, NAMI helps people find resources. You can find out more here.

Key takeaways:

• Focus on the negative, all you’ll see is negative

• Focus on the positive and you'll see positive

• Take small steps and build on the results

• Nothing happens without work

• No “tip” is a replacement for professional help

Get well, stay well, keep creating.

I own none of the photos above. All are used for illustrative/educational purposes as covered by the Fair Use Doctrine.

Crime Report: Murder by the Book, a Review

Three women, Addison Comstock, Alecia Cookson, and Casey Mitchell. Different ages, different goals, and different social statuses but they’re drawn together by tragedy, stolen dreams, and tortured pasts.  Two of them are on a hunt and the third has no idea.

Trigger Warning: the following review subject deals with child-abuse and sexual assault.

However, Murder by the Book author, J.L. Campbell respectfully and maturely. There are no graphic or salacious details here. By no means a “cozy,” MbtB is not gritty pulp, either.

 

When we meet international best-selling author Addison Comstock, she is hip-deep in problems. She has a deadline galloping up on her. The editor supervising her team of ghostwriters has just died. Worse, the police have detained one of her ghost writers. Worst of all, her public continues to question the provenance of her pageturners. 

But Addison Comstock didn’t claw her way out of poverty and abuse to turn-tail and run. The abuse she suffered as a child has left her with an iron will. Her success and the price she has paid for it has honed her ambition to a razor’s edge. Still the questions unnerve her.

Alecia Cookson has had it. Her “situationship” with Quentin Young—always on the edge of collapse—is more aggravation than ecstasy. Mostly because she strongly suspects he is messing around. Her work for Addison is one-part pay the bills and two-parts emotional torture. All the while she searches for the truth about her family. More than fame, more than fortune, Alecia wants to know the truth.  

With her own history of childhood abuse Alecia needs to know the truth about her mother and what happened to her. Lie, cheat, steal, Alecia will not stop until she gets the answers she wants. No matter who she has to step over—or step on—to get them.  

More than Addison, more than Alecia, Casey Mitchell is determined to succeed. After years of childhood horror, she is on a mission for justice for her mother and her sister. Buoyed by her determination and the experience of serving justice once already, Casey is unencumbered by Addison’s fear or Alecia’s emotions. 

Casey will see justice done. She will get what is owed to her family. Even if it costs her everything.

“Mark my words, yuh wickedness will catch up to yuh one day. The God I know will see justice served. You will never be happy.”

Like Campbell’s previous crime novel, Flames of Wrath, (reviewed in 2023) there are no “heroes” here. These are three women who have crawled out of generational poverty and abuse. All three have used questionable means to achieve their ends. And all three are locked in their determination. 

None of the three intertwined paths lead to a “happily-ever-after.” But as with FoW, MbtB is a delight in execution. When the twist (which won’t be spoiled here) lands, it’s not so much a shocker as a worth-the-price-of-admission show. 

That’s J.L. Campbell’s strength. She has a true command of reality and how her story fits within a brutally real world. Her violence is visceral, her pain is wincing, and her victory is a hard-won triumph for her character and the reader.

Murder by the Book is a lot of fun. It is also available for pre-order, here. Check it out!

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms and the Greatest Warrior Fallacy

A Knight of the Seven Kingdom, (AKSK) is HBO’s latest follow up on the blockbuster series Game of Thrones and House of Dragon. Chronologically, AKSK takes place in the 100-ish years between HoD and GoT. All three fantasy shows are based on books by author George R.R. Martin. While the latter two are epic in scope, cast, and plot, AKSK is close and achingly personal.

Now, for all the hype, watching both GoT and HoD often felt like a job. Just as often, it was a painful job. Thankfully, AKSK is completely different.

*Spoiler Alert* You know the drill. Continue reading at your own risk.

The story of Dunk, (Peter Claffey) a squire-turned-knight, looking to secure his place in a scary world and Egg, (Dexter Sol Ansell) a runaway prince who desperately wants to squire for a real knight...and possibly have someone killed.

Mostly, AKSK is television's best buddy-series in at least a decade. 

Egg trying to sort things out.

When Egg, (his Momma named him 'Aegon') asks Dunk if he is real knight, he's not asking for references or work history. See, Egg has two brothers with the title of "knight" but between them there isn’t one real knight. Or much of a decent human being. To Egg, a “real” knight is not a complete psychotic or a degenerate alcoholic.

As we follow them to the tournament where Dunk hopes to make his bones as a knight, we see just how low the bar for being a knight—real or otherwise—can be.

Here’s the rub, Dunk (Ser Duncan) is a knight of questionable provenance. As in there are no witnesses to Dunk’s knighting. No one remembers his former lord. Oh, and he’s a bit, um, threadbare even by lordless-knight standards.

'bama: [noun] unsophisticated...of modest education/background.

Through a comedy of virtues, Dunk ends up on the wrong side of the ruling family. Namely, Prince Aerion Targaryen, (Finn Bennett) a grandson of the king. Aerion wants blood for Dunk’s offenses. Some people, you kick them in the mouth and they take it all wrong.

Prince Aerion: nowhere near as nice as he seems.

But as mighty and formidable as Aerion is, Dunk makes two of him. And this is perhaps George R.R. Martin’s greatest gift. He’s been around enough to know that the toughest tough guy seldom wants to mix it up with anyone big enough to pull a wagon and eat hay.

Most writers (new and otherwise) don’t get that memo. They are moved by the legend of Leonidas and his Spartans (each warrior worth a thousand), Richard the Lionheart–who led from the front against superior forces, the unstoppable Genghis Khan, and last but not least, Alexander the Great and (purportedly) undefeated.

I get it. Most writers want the romance of a legendary, indomitable warrior. So, in fiction we get Thor, Conan, and Aragorn. They’re all fine characters but the trope isn’t. It’s dishonest and worse, it’s boring.

So, who does it right?

For context, this is a graduation ceremony.

Frank Herbert’s Sardaukar are the fiercest fighters in the known universe. They instill terror in anyone facing them—although mostly, they attack from ambush, have superior training, and top-of-the-line equipment. Then they meet the Fremen who bring the fight to them with a religious frenzy. 

Fought this duel after a sword-tip was removed from his arm.

In Richard Lester’s 1973 version of The Three Musketeers, Athos, (Oliver Reed) is the best swordsman of the group. But swords are swords and a watermill doesn’t care about reputation. Athos’ cloak gets snagged on a watermill and he takes a sword tip to the throat for his trouble. 

Bonus points for D’Artagnan, who kills another "deadliest swordsman," Rochefort—with a broken sword. 

FIERCE

In the Netflix Original, Last Samurai Standing, (based on the manga by Shogo Imamura) Saga Kokushu, (Junichi Okada) is a renowned swordsman and samurai, (military leader in feudal Japan). His nom de guerre is “Kokushu, the man slayer.” Unfortunately, in19th century Japan the samurai class is fast approaching extinction. 

In flashback, we (and Kokushu) watch as artillery and a rifle company cut his army to pieces. As a result, he suffers from PTSD. The mere sound of a sword drawn immobilizes Kokushu as he descends into uncontrollable shakes. 

What’s the problem you ask? Just don’t fight. Well, as previously stated the times, they are a changing. The samurai in service to daimyo (petty nobles) have all been dismissed. The landed samurai, (like Kokushu) struggle to make ends meet. Oh, and a cholera epidemic is sweeping the Japan. Kokushu’s own child has died and his village is suffering. 

The only option is an organized series of duels with a grand prize of BIG money. Really, more like brawls conducted under shadowy circumstances no one can really trust. Still, desperate samurai of all stations—even Kokushu—gather to slaughter each other for the promise of a life-saving fortune. 

Except Kokushu still cannot draw his sword, even to defend himself. Yeah, the “compelling,” like the conflict is baked in. Throw in a kid who looks/acts a lot like Kokushu’s late child and you have money in the bank. Which is why the series has already been renewed for a 2nd season by the notoriously fickle Netflix, (seriously, they are the deadliest swordsmen). 

Um, what does this have to do with that big 'bama and bald kid?

Dunk is barely qualified for the tournament he has begged/barrowed/stolen his way into. Assaulting the king’s grandson was NOT part of the plan. On top of all that the little twit knows the law.

Aerion has been trained his whole life for single combat. He is the preeminent swordsman of his age. Dunk had to pawn his horse to buy armor. I’m not joking. 

Not as stupid as he looks.

But Aerion knows one thing for sure he does NOT want to fight that big ‘bama all by his onesies. He invokes a Challenge of Seven. Really the full explanation isn’t worth the typing. Basically, Dunk has to come up with six other schlubs to fight with him or he forfeits his right arm and leg. 

Who wouldn't trust this guy? Um, just watch his hands.

Long-story-short, Dunk’s drinking buddy and maybe-friend, Lyonel gets a gang of reprobates together. Still, he’s still one man short. Then, as if delivered from the heavens, Prince Baelor Breakspear (Bertie Carvel) heir to the throne, Aerion’s uncle, and the best swordsman in the Seven (nine, whatevs) Kingdoms pledges to fight alongside Dunk.

 

Yay! Right? 

"Is that my blood? What the actual—?!" 

Obvs, nothing goes the way you expect. Otherwise, what story? Dunk does clean Aerion’s clock and makes him withdraw his challenge/charge/whatevs. Dunk keeps life and limb. Baelor doesn’t... fare as well. 

Which is the ultimate lesson. 

The ultimate swordsman's greatest adversary isn’t some other swordsman. It’s the time of day, the footing of the battlefield, the guy who showed up with an ax/spear/club instead of a sword. The man determined to take what fate/birth order denied him.

Or, the guy who’s no swordsman, scared to his very marrow, but harnesses his unbridled terror into the fight because he has something to fight for. 

Who wouldn't risk a right arm and leg for her?

Big hearted, narrow in focus, and earnest as first love, AKSK is an absolute joy to watch. I highly recommend it. Last Samurai Standing is grittier, meaner, and absolutely as captivating as AKSK. Do yourself a favor and check them both out. 

I own none of the images above. All are used for illustrative/educational purposes as covered by the Fair Use Doctrine.

Writing Like Marriage

 

Cute platitude, huh? But really the two are quite similar. Both require more commitment than anyone who hasn’t been married (or written a book) can imagine. Both require more work than is reasonably possible. Both can be more infuriating—and more rewarding—than just about anything else we will ever experience.

 

We begin our romance, our thriller, our cozy, with dreams and high hopes. Whether we start with a scene in our head or a complete beginning/middle/end idea, we can almost see the story stretch out before us. Maybe we have none of that, just an thought that we endeavor to flesh out in the writing.

 

A ceremony is not a book, a routine is

 

Like marriage, the bright-day’s promise that comes with inspiration gives way to the work necessary to shape it into a coherent story. That scene, dialogue, and/or plot is not a story. The outline is not a story.

 

It takes  months, (in my case years) to shape that inspiration into a cogent story with a minimum of plot/logic holes. The process takes attention and the aforementioned commitment. Neglect the work and the story will be weak. Or worse, it will never be finished.

 

If you neglect your spouse, your marriage will atrophy and probably die. Hyperbole? Nah. While divorce has declined from the “Me Generation” 1970s and 80s, 34-40% of all marriages still end in divorce.

 

Like failed (unfinished) books, failed marriages have myriad causes. Money (as in the lack thereof) and kids (usually the reason for the lack of money) rank at the top for both. You can probably name more causes than I can. The only one that really matters to me is people stop trying.

 

When we stop doing the work—a husband, a wife, a writer—when we stop showing up, we stop being a spouse, or a writer.

 

In an NPR profile of acclaimed short-story writer Thom Jones, the presenter stated, (and I paraphrase, badly) Thom would’ve liked to write novels but he had a family…bills to pay, a house to maintain, and bicycles to assemble for the kids.

 

Just as  marriages suffer in the day-to-day struggle of time-demands and tedium, just as love dies in stagnant habits, so does our written work.

 

But only if we allow it.

 

A nation of two becomes a nation of one

 

My wife is a two-time-breast-cancer survivor. That means for the last four-plus years, we have been united in a battle against the second-leading cause of death for women in America. 

Plans to remodel our house went on instant and indefinite hiatus. So did our individual goals. Gaye shelved plans for another degree. I haven’t done any meaningful fiction-writing in four years.

In the absence of family, I am her person. That’s my most important job. If I never publish a word as a result I consider it a fair trade. But “not right now,” doesn’t have to be “never.”

 

“Only when love and need are one…” Robert Frost, Two Tramps in Mud Time

 

As one of Frost’s most beloved poems suggests, work for pay is fine but when the work is both for need and for satisfaction is it meaningful. Which applies as much to marriage as it does to writing.

 

We have a basic division of labor. I handle the kitchen, bathrooms, and the laundry. My wife handles the floors, furniture, and dusting. And there is at least a dozen unlisted/unassigned chores that we fall into as an understanding of this is what we do.

 

The horrific diagnosis we received in 2022 refocused the purpose of the chores. I kept us fed but a steam-cleaning service will have to address my neglect of the grout. Further, I promise that there are spots in our house that have not been dusted since 2022. Nature is taking my garden back. And our yard ranks worst on our block.

 

Most importantly, in the course of our battle, we nearly lost each other. It happens. On my own blog site, I’ve written about cancer and relationship breakdowns.

 

Unwilling to accept losing what we have had for 20-plus years, we’re in therapy. We’re doing the work to move beyond survival-mode and back to our grand adventure. 

 

That’s what’s important: living. She’s alive and we both want to live the life we’ve built. For her that means resuming her academic pursuits. For me it means writing.

 

So, just as I’m doing the work to strengthen my marriage. I’m doing the work to re-establish my writing routine. Rather than an hour in the gym, I’ve whittled it down to 30 minutes. Likewise, my goof-off online time is on the chopping block.

Prioritizing therapy over TV/reading time is what our marriage needs. Prioritizing writing along side my other coping mechanisms is what I need. Mostly, I need crime fiction in my life to counter the absurdity of the "real" world.

So, I’m not giving up on my story or the dozen-others that pester me to “get down” on paper. Like the best part of marriage, the call to write is both love and need. 

I do not own the image above. It is used here for educational/illustrative purposes as covered by the Fair Use Doctrine.