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Author Archives: Dennis Langley

Writing Craft Help

07 Aug

I have a pretty extensive collection of books on the craft of writing. Not exhaustive by any stretch, but I have quite a few. At the recommendation of writer friends, I recently picked up two that I think are noteworthy.

The first one is a short (80 pages), but very useful book on editing, “Dunne with Editing, A Last Look at Your Manuscript” by Nann Dunne. Its focus is primarily on copy editing. The content is broken up into eighteen clear concise chapters that detail one part of the editing process. in addition, the author gives understandable examples showing before and after editing samples.

The book acts like an editing checklist. Chapters include the usual topics like spelling, passive voice and overused words. It also includes topics on participial clauses, dialogue punctuation, attribution tags, and the Burly Detective Syndrome. Am actual checklist is included in the appendices. As is a sampling of overused words and prepositions. the final appendices include short discussions on novel planning and structure as well as story arcs.

If you are looking for a ‘quick and dirty’ copy editing book to remind you of the little things and some big things to look at once you get past that first draft and before you pay for a professional to formally edit your MS, Then I would recommend adding this little gem to your craft library.

The second book is  “Nail Your Novel – Why writers abandon books and how you can draft, fix, and finish with confidence” by Roz Morris.

Image used with Permission

Image used with Permission

If you are a writer who has ever stumbled, fallen down, and/or quit working on a project, You MUST read this book. If you are just starting out and are looking for one book to HELP you get from idea to finished work. You SHOULD read this book before you put 60,000 words on the computer and find you don’t know where to go next.

Plans scare some writers. So, I will use the term method to describe what this book is about. The author lays out a method that takes the writer through a process of writing, rewriting, and polishing a story from start to finish. She begins by providing an index to resources for each topic that she will cover. That way if you are having trouble with scene structure, you can easily find it in the beginning of the book and go right to the section on Card Shuffling. In addition, she includes games, tricks, techniques and rescue remedies to help the writer walk through the method and finish their manuscript.

The author does a great job of summarizing each chapter and reminding the writer what they should be trying to get right during each stage of the novel-writing process and what the inner critic should or should not be doing. Her thumbnail tips throughout the chapters reinforce the method in simple language. The tools she recommends, including storyboard card shuffling and beat sheets, are tried and true and most important, they work.

Another positive is that this is not a three-inch thick tome that will take you a month to work through. At 175 pages, it is concise and just the sort of book you can keep close to your computer to quickly find what you need. If the book is not enough for you. Or, if you are like me and you have follow-up questions, the author’s blog site, ‘Nail Your Novel’ is full of additional advice and tips.

Both of these books now sit on the shelf closest to my writing desk, Both have numerous post-it flags attached at critical chapters. I’m not saying that these are the only books on writing craft you should own. What I am saying is my recommendation would be to add them to your collection. I know they will get lots of use.

 
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Posted by on August 7, 2013 in Thoughts on Writing

 

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A True Fish Story – The Beetle Spin Theft

02 Aug
Little Black Beetle Spin

Little Black Beetle Spin

Since May 1st, I have caught a fish every day that we have stayed at the cabin. This alone should indicate some small prowess in my fishing ability. In addition, while performing as a fishing guide for family and friends, everyone I’ve taken fishing has caught at least one fish. More proof that I should know what I’m doing, right? Well, don’t be too quick to pat me on the back. Last Friday evening, I had an altercation with two fish that might indicate a chink in my fishing armor.

As I stated, it all began last Friday evening when I announced to my domestic CEO that I was going down to the dock to test my mettle against the Lake. I grabbed my trusty 45 year old rod and reel, rigged with a little black Beetle Spin and walked down to the shoreline next to the dock.

I made a few casts into the lily pads near shore. There are usually a few bluegills or crappies hiding there. I got no bites. My next cast was supposed to land just shy of my boat lift. However, my aim was a bit off and the little black Beetle Spin sailed over the lower lift bar, which was about a foot and a half above the water.

As soon as the little black Beetle Spin hit the water, a small crappie took it. The fight was short as most crappie fights go. The hard part was trying to get the fish over the lift bar without snagging the line. After a few tentative attempts, I finally jerked the little fish up and over the bar without breaking the line. Once it was back in the water, the crappie was landed without further difficulty. As usual, I released the unharmed fish back to the water within a few seconds. (If I want to eat fish, I go to the store or a Red Lobster restaurant.) This catch wasn’t pretty but kept my honor intact.

Now, if you have not read this part as foreshadowing, you should. If I had stopped fishing after catching the crappie, all would have been good. However, I hate to end a fishing session with a questionable catch. So, I confidently walked out to the end of the dock looking to find another fish.

The little black Beetle Spin landed perfectly on the outside edge of the patch of lily pads that separates my dock from my neighbor’s. I reeled up the slack and began retrieving the lure. It was about halfway back when I saw a large swirl appeared in the water behind the little black Beetle Spin. The rod tip bent severely and I felt the weight of a large fish. I raised the rod tip and a second later I heard a pop and the line went slack. The end of my line came floating back at me. My little Beetle Spin was gone!

“Damn, big toothy critter” I said as I reeled in the now limp line. That’s what we call Northern Pike.

‘Northerns’, look similar to a barracuda only with green stripes. They have large mouths that are full of razor sharp teeth. They are the top predator on many of the 10,000 lakes in Minnesota.

I tied off the end of my line and stalked back to my shed, grumbling the whole way. I hate losing little black Beetle Spins. I put the rod in the shed alongside the fourteen other rods I store there. Then it struck me. My pride was hurt. The big toothy critter had stolen my little black Beetle Spin and that was unacceptable. What could I do? REVENGE!!!

I grabbed a rod that I rigged up for the CEO. It had a shallow running crank bait, attached to a six inch steel leader, attached to six pound line. The leader was designed to keep big toothy critters from stealing the crank bait. By God, I was going to fix the big toothy critter. I’d catch him and retrieve my little black Beetle Spin. I stormed walked carefully back down the dock grinning with malice and forethought.

The crank bait that looked like a small fish and houses a small rattle, soared out beyond the lily pads and splashed into the dark water. I took up the slack and cranked the lure down until it ran about six inches below the surface. I could still hear and feel the rattle as the lure wobbled along. The lure passed through the site of the theft and I swore, “Chicken shit toothy critter!” In response, there was a swirl behind the lure as if to say, “Bring it on fat boy.”

I calmly reeled the crank bait the rest of the way back just in case the big toothy critter decided to get mouthy. However, he was too cool a customer for that tactic.

I smiled though because he had shown his hand. He was still interested in biting something and I had something he was interested in.

The next cast sailed out beyond the lily pads and I cranked it down so the lure was running just above the submerged weeds. When the lure reached the crime scene, it was greeted with a huge swirl. The big toothy critter rolled over on the lure like he intended to inhale it and take it to the bottom. It was my first glimpse of the Northern’s green striped sides. “Ha,” I said as my suspicions were confirmed. The rod bent severely and the fight was on.

At this point I was pretty proud of myself. I had him. He had taken my bait and I had him. After few seconds of battling a fish of decent size, you start to think of how you will land it. That is when doubt came crashing into my head. This was a pretty nice fish, just under three feet long. That would put his weight at about ten and a half pounds. As long as he was in the water and didn’t wrap the line around a stump or heavy weeds, my six-pound line would probably hold up. The twenty pound steel leader was doing its job, so far. The problem comes in when you try to remove the fish from the water. Netting the fish is the preferred method.

I’ve got a net. Where’s my net? It’s in the boat, on the lift, on the other side of the dock. How can I get into the boat to get the net without losing the fish? Uh…Uh…Shit. Ask the CEO to help out.

I screamed for the CEO to come help me. No answer. Screamed again. Still no answer. Now What?

The water is too low to get down on my knees and hand-land a fish this size. Alright, think there has got to be a way. Maybe I could get lucky and just hoist it up on the dock before the line breaks. Yeah, right!

I tried it anyway and the fish chose that time to shake its head. Six-pound monofilament fishing line sliding rapidly across bare fingers is painful at best. “Dumb-ass!” Okay don’t try that again.

If I can’t lift him. Maybe I can beach him.

By now the fish is pretty tired and I can move him where I want him. So, I brought him around the end of the dock and made my way towards shore. He was upright and eyed me with a hostile stare.

The shore is not a beach. It is made up of melon-sized boulders and reeds. I realized as I approached the shore that I needed some speed to get the fish up onto the boulders and through the reeds to make it to solid ground. So…I began running up the dock dragging the fish through the water. I got to the boulders and the fish made it part of the way up. But, it got hung up in the reeds and the line broke.

Now, normally, the rest of the story would be the fish flopped back into the water and disappeared. Not in my story!

Thinking quickly, I dashed back down the dock and spun the wheel on the lift to lower the boat far enough that I could dive into it to retrieve my net. I’m not as small and agile as I used to be so this was not a trivial thing to do. Once I got the net and got back out of the boat, I ran back to where the fish lay on the rocks.

“Holy crap, it’s still there!” I netted the fish off the rocks and set him down carefully on the grass.

Okay, remove the lure from his mouth and get him back in the water. But, there are two razor sharp treble hooks surrounded by razor sharp teeth attached to a very angry, though tired toothy critter. I need my pliers. Where are my pliers? In the boat! Crap!!!

I ran back down the dock, dove into the boat, grabbed the pliers and scrambled back to the fish. Armed with the proper tools, I made quick work of freeing the lure from the fish and got a hold on the fish that was safe for me and the fish.

I was excited as you might guess and in most cases this would have been the time to snap a few pictures to show off on the blog site and FB. However, I did not have a camera or my phone. Even if I had one of them available, I would not have taken the time for a picture. You see, by now the fish had been out of the water for a few minutes and I was worried about him. Yes, you heard me. I was worried that I might not be able to revive him and send him back to his home in the dark water.

I quickly carried him to he shoreline that I could easily get down to the water. I set him on the rocks with his head in the water. His mouth opened and closed several times which gave me hope that he might be okay. For those of you not familiar with Northern Pike, they are a slimy fish and can be hard to hold on to. I slowly slid him off the rocks into the water while trying to hang onto him. If I couldn’t revive him, I didn’t know what I would do. He wasn’t big enough to pay to have mounted and I didn’t want to clean and eat him. So, I was motivated to keep him alive. He was about halfway into the water when I lost my grip and he slid the rest of the way on his own. I started to follow him into the water to support him until he was fully recovered. But, as a last way of saluting my victory, he wagged his tail and disappeared beneath the lily pads. Damn, I forgot to look for my little black Beetle Spin!

I got up and turned around. There, standing in the doorway to the cabin stood the CEO, laughing her ass off. She witnessed the last part of the episode and said later that she had not seen me move that fast in years. She also said, “That was a nice fish.” We laughed for days. Too bad there was no video running. It would have made great U-tube action.

Epilogue: Saturday evening, as I sat on the deck drinking a snazzy beer, I saw a big toothy critter roll on a school of fish out beyond my dock. Yea, he was alright. And there was respect.

 

 
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Posted by on August 2, 2013 in Musings and Odd Thoughts

 

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Writing Euphoria

29 Jul

Yesterday, I turned off my laptop and sat back in my chair. It took ten minutes before I realized I was grinning from ear to ear. I had only written a few hundred words. But, they were critical to the protagonist’s character arc. Before, the character’s motive seemed thin. They did not draw the reader in. There was no anchor point as to why the character would be acting the way I expected him to act.

Now, there was conflict, both internal and external. The foundation for the subplot was laid and I could easily build on it throughout the rest of the story. Most of the story, to this point, has been written as a series of flash fiction based on an image I had for a particular scene. It has worked great to get scenes written. However, they are not tied together very well and it’s missing depth of plot. I decided that to help with the story moving forward, I needed to go back and plug-in some detail.

Anyway, back to my grin. I was really happy with the way the scene came out as you can plainly see. I realized that this feeling of euphoria was something that I felt every time I finished a writing session. Even those times when writing was a struggle, I would finish the paragraph or sentence and sit back. I couldn’t help but smile.

Maybe it’s the joy of creativity. Maybe the feeling of crashing through a ‘block’. Maybe it’s the joy of using words to make pictures. Or, maybe it’s seeing the story unfolding before my eyes and feeling what the character’s feel. Whatever it is. I love it. It’s a drug that is drawing me into an addiction. When I’m not writing, I am thinking about writing and the story to come. I haven’t reached a point where I put the rest of my life on hold. But, I could see it happening. For now, I will write as often as I can and enjoy the glow that comes after each writing session.

How about you. Do you get a feeling of euphoria after a writing session? Does this feeling disappear after you have published a bunch of books? Lord, I hope not.

 
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Posted by on July 29, 2013 in Thoughts on Writing

 

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Women Protagonists in Fantasy Fiction

23 Jul

I recently listened to a panel of successful female writers and editors, from the fantasy genre, discuss female protagonists. As a male writer, I found it an interesting discussion. Hoping for some insight on how to make my female characters deeper and more real, what actually was discussed was a distinct dissatisfaction across the panel that most female protagonists in the fantasy genre were kickass warriors.

Hmm. Isn’t that feminist’s equality? I asked myself.

Hold on a moment. Before you all start to go off on me as being a sexist, let me continue. Everyone, myself included, was in agreement that a kickass warrior was infinitely better than the pretty pitiful princess that needs rescuing. The question became, “What other journeys are there for a female protagonist in a fantasy story beside Joseph Campbell’s ‘Hero’s Journey’?” Campbell’s journey is by far the most popular and most recognized.

Most fantasy stories have a hero of some sort as the protagonist. It just the way things are in the genre. Maybe because the standard good vs evil convention leads itself in that direction. There has to be someone to vanquish evil or evil will destroy everything.

It made me wonder about other potential character arcs. What other female specific arcs are there? As a matter of fact, I cannot remember hearing of any other character arc being ‘named’, let alone documented. What can I say, I’ve led a sheltered life. Shouldn’t any arc that you can find in literature be used in fantasy?

What other “journeys” are you aware of? Have they been documented in detail somewhere? What have you used? Have kickass female warriors become merely a cliché? Boy, I hope not! It’s hard to beat a story about a woman who goes around kicking ass and taking names.

Your Thoughts?

 
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Posted by on July 23, 2013 in Thoughts on Writing

 

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Who’s driving this crazy thing?

16 Jul

What is this whole process of storytelling? Sometimes we get so caught up in character arcs, plot points storyboarding, outlines vs pantsing, and God knows what else, that we forget what makes up a story and how to tell one. Sure all of the volumes on writing craft will take you down into the weeds of writing and break down every detail of the mechanics involved. However, sometimes it’s all those details that get in the way of telling a good story. I know a few writers who are so worried about the details that they become “Blocked”. We will discuss writers block in another post so I’m not going down that dark hole today.

Let me start by telling you a story:

A group of writers were sitting on a patio, drinking their tea and eating cucumber sandwiches. Being the novice among the group, I asked the question, “What do you need to tell a good story?” They all took another bite of their sandwiches and then sipped their tea. Thoughtfully, One of the more successful of the group announced that, “All you need, to tell a story, is POV and ask the question, ‘What happens next?'” His comment was followed by much head nodding and quiet mumblings of, “Yea, verily, yea.” by the rest of the successful writers present. I took this pearl of wisdom and pondered it for some time. It now seems to me to be sage advice.

Point of View (POV). Who is telling the story? This should be the most interesting person in the story. In my example above, the most interesting person is Me! 🙂 Notice I said most interesting and not most successful. The POV does not need to be from the main character. The two most used POVs are first person and third person. Third person can be further broken down to: close (intimate) view, or omniscient. Whole books have been written on these POVs so I will not go too deep here. The key thing to remember is that the POV dictates how much information can be given the reader and in what form that information will be delivered, narrative, dialogue, actions, etc.

Once you know who is telling the story, the thing that drives the story is the question, “What happens next?” Those of you who routinely write flash fiction should be very experienced with this question. All flash fiction and most writing exercises start with a prompt. For example: “I looked out the window of the airplane and …”. The writer then asks the question what happens next and writes a few sentences. Then, what happens next? Writer, writes a few more sentences and so on until the story ends or you reach so many pages that you have to make it a series. This is how stories are made.

A subset of the question what happens next is the “What if?” The quickest way I have found to get past a block is to ask the question “What if?” and write down the answer, even if it is off the wall and I know it will not make it into the final story. Then again it might! As writers we need to take risks, try new things, experiment. Desperation breeds genius. It is important not to judge the answer until you have given it a good chance to develop.

So, pick the right POV for the story, ask, “What happens next?”, then go tell your story.

What do you think?

 
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Posted by on July 16, 2013 in Thoughts on Writing

 

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Traditional Archery Build-along Article

15 Jul

IMGP3301 (2)For those of you who have an interest in archery, the Summer 2013 issue of Stick and String Traditional Archery Magazine just hit the stands internet. My article on lengthening carbon arrows was included in the build-along section of this issue. The article is included on the Traditional Archery page of my blog. Click here to view it.

The soft thump of the string,

The arrow is on its way,

The smooth arc to its target,

Only affected by Nature’s winds.

 
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Posted by on July 15, 2013 in Traditional Archery

 

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And then the trouble starts! A and W Part VII

11 Jul

This is a scene from a story that started as a writing exercise, My Scene. It is a series of flash pieces that are the beginnings of my current WIP.. This scene happens later in the story than the previous posts though it didn’t start that way. It just made sense as I wrote it that it would be more of a turning point.  This will probably be the last installment I post of this story for a variety of reasons. Mostly, I don’t want you to see too much more of it before it starts going into revision.

A quick background: I am Derek Nantan, a North American Marshal in the service of the Pentacle. My territory ranges from the continental divide in the west to roughly Chicago in the east. I was tasked with helping Amy Hatcher, an Oscar-winning actress, by ridding her of a stalker that a local shaman suspects to be a warlock.

The door rolled open a foot on well oiled tracks. Even so, it made more noise than I would have liked. I slipped through the opening and into the darkness beyond. The faint scent of burning chocolate over the smell of horses and manure, told me someone or something was using magic. There was a pale green glow coming from the stables. It provided just enough light so I could pick my way through the vehicles and equipment stored at this end of the barn.  

I passed by the tack room and as I approached the stables, I saw a horse rear up in its stall. However, I didn’t hear any sound at all coming from the stables. I stayed close to the wall on my left side. My stalking walk was all but silent under the worst of conditions so, I was not worried about being heard. The horse continued to buck and crash into the sides of the stall until one of the stable gates opened and a man stepped out into the glow. His shoulders stood above the top of the gate and from that distance he seemed tragically thin. Long dark hair partially covered an angular face as he walked toward me. The grey sweatshirt hung from his shoulders and barely reached the top of his torn jeans. His long strides brought him within a few feet before he stopped and considered me.

“Howdy,” he said with a voice that resembled Lurch from the Adams Family. “Can I help you?”

The air now smelled like I had fallen into a vat of burnt chocolate. The hair on the back of my hands and neck was at full attention. Whoever this was, he was bad news in spades. I smiled and tried to show him I was relaxed when inside, every muscle and tendon was vibrating like a guitar string. I drew power up through the orb in my right hand and prepared a proper welcome if it came to that.

“Hi, I’m looking for Ramone,” I said, not wanting to give him any real names.

“That’s me,” he said as he smiled and took a step toward me.

He began to stretch out his hand towards me when two things struck me. First, his hands were much too large for his frame. And two, his teeth looked like they had been sharpened with a file.

“I don’t think so,” I said as I took a step back. 

His hand flashed up toward my throat. Somehow he had gotten much closer to me than I remember him being. My orb pulsed and my left hand caught his wrist a few inches short of his target. The speed and strength the orb provided was barely enough to keep him away. His eyes flashed red as he glanced down at our interlocked hands. His fingers straightened and instantly grew into foot long talons that tore through my shirt and plunged deep into my shoulder. The orb fell from my hand as all feeling drained from my right hand. I pushed with my left hand which still held his wrist and twisted away. The talons shredded the front of my shirt and tore lines across the flesh or my chest.

He chuckled as I looked down at my ruined shoulder. My orb lay on the floor between us. The talons were gone and he motioned for me to come to him. I took the opportunity and drew my knife. Made from meteor metal and enchanted by the kachinas, it was the other gift my father gave me the day before mother murdered him. With my right arm all but useless, I held the knife in my left hand with the blade forward to give me a little more reach. 

“Come mageling,” he said, looking at the orb. “Was it you who called me?”

“Who are you and why are you here?” I asked, trying to by some time.

He smiled and circled to my right. “I told you. I’m Ramone and someone called to me.”

He moved so fast, I barely had time to bring the knife around. His left hand with talons extended, tore into my right thigh. My knife caught his arm as he went past me and sliced a gash from his wrist to his elbow. Unfortunately, the knife blade caught on a bone and was ripped from my hand. His unnatural roar shook the beams of the barn. He spun and back-handed me across the forehead. The force of his blow snapped my head to the side and stars exploded before my eyes. I felt myself hit the ground. Pain flashed down my arm as I rolled over several times trying to get some distance from my attacker. I looked up through foggy eyes to see walking toward me. He seemed bigger from this angle and talons had replaced both of his hands. He flexed his left arm and dark liquid flowed from the wicked gash my knife had made.

“Time to die, mageling,” He said, as he raised his right hand to strike. 

I squirmed to get my left arm out from underneath me and bring it up in a feeble attempt to block the oncoming blow. My hand came free from beneath me and bumped into my orb. I grabbed it and looked up again expecting the talons to rip my head from my neck. 

When you are in a struggle for your life, time slows down. Maybe it’s adrenaline. Maybe it’s heighten senses. Either way, It is amazing to experience.

The muzzle blast from a large-bore rifle fired in an enclosed space is painful. The sound of the blast hit my ears as the chest of the man standing over me exploded over my head. Before he could react, a second explosion tore away a portion of his right shoulder. The force of the second round spun the man away from me. I looked at the direction of the barn door and saw Ben levering another round into a Winchester lever-action rifle. The taloned man looked down at his wounds and screamed with rage as a third bullet hit his thigh. He turned as if nothing was wrong and charged toward me. Ben’s Winchester roared again but the bullet missed its mark. That was okay because he had given me the time I needed.

My orb pulsed in my hand. The sound from the rifle’s muzzle blast was created by waves of energy moving outward from the gun. I redirected that energy through the orb, condensed it, shaped it into the form of a bighorn ram’s head and sent it into Mr. Talon’s chest just as he was about to eviscerate me. At that range, I could hardly miss. The full force of the spell hit him. All of the air and most of the blood in his lungs exploded out of his mouth and sprayed me with ichor. The force of the spell propelled him up and slammed his back into the steel I-beam that supported the barn’s roof twenty feet above the floor. The ominous crack of vertebrae shattering gave me a moment’s hope as the crumple body dropped back to the floor. 

I rolled to my knees in time to see Ben fire another shot that missed. Looking back at where the body had landed, I was dumbfounded as the man slowly stood up. I heard more cracking, as if bones were grating across each other. I began to gather energy in preparation for another spell. He made it into a crouch and glared at me. He hissed and ran toward Ben and the door out. I sent a burst of energy to create and barrier across the barn to trap him but I misjudged his speed and wall went up behind him as he raced toward Ben. 

I watched in helpless horror as the man barely slowed down as he went past Ben, talon raking across Ben’s neck. Ben was scrambling to reload the Winchester and didn’t see blow that separated his head from his neck. He probably didn’t feel it. His head fell forward and his body slowly toppled to the side. I slumped to my side. My shoulder and leg burned. My head throbbed. I closed my eyes.

If you are interested in reading the previous scenes, check them out at, Actress and the Warlock Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI. .

 
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Posted by on July 11, 2013 in Actress and the Warlock

 

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