The Intricacies and Musings of a Madman

I said it in my Instagram story, and I’ll say it again here: When I go to Heaven, I’m going to eat and watch TV all the time. Because the resurrected body will be perfect and won’t get fat.

Really, though. I wish I could get away with eating however much I want of whatever I want. I love food. I love feeling full. Being an absolute pig is my specialty. I actually lost about twenty-five pounds over the last four months because I stopped doing that, but boy let me tell you: It’s tempting.

ANYWAY…

I’ve been working on my novel for years. It’s almost stupid because I keep redoing chapters and altering ideas, never really coming close to finishing it. I guess it has to be perfect, otherwise it’ll drive me insane when I read it later. So, the question is, if you’re a writer like me, what’s the best way to improve your talent? I pose this question because I’d like to stop having to redo everythingwhen it’s not good enough.

The answer: Inspiration. Inspiration not only spawns ideas, it also improves your skills. It’s a kill-two-birds-with-one-stone kind of deal.

Taking classes or participating in workshops are great for harvesting talent – that’s true – but I think the best thing you can do is learn from the works of others. As Stephen King put it, “If you don’t have time to read, you don’t have the time (or the tools) to write.”

I want my book to have a little something for everyone. Actually, I want it to have a lot for everyone. I’ll be happy if it contains a ton of technical know-how for all the science lovers out there (like me), but I’ll also be happy if I manage to write the best romantic tale ever created. (Shoot for the stars, amirite?)

Thing is, guys, it’s hard to fit all that in one story. I don’t want to include science if I’m no good at making it interesting. If it’s got romance, by all means it needs to make you cry and laugh and emerge from the pages happy. For every aspect of the story, it’s got to be done right.

So, there are lots of fictional goldmines that I dig inspirational currency from. And taking the approach of learning from others’ works is not only the most useful thing a writer can do (really, it is), but it’s also enjoyable.

There’s a TV show I like called The Expanse. From it, I find inspiration to write action in a way that’s both ruthless and exciting. Action scenes cannot feel slow if they are to have the desired effect. The Expanse enables me to better visualize this before putting it to paper.

Leviathan Wakes is the book-version of The Expanse, an absolute masterpiece. It helps me remember to make the technical side of my story – all the sciency stuff – as raw and realistic as possible. I figure the science part of science-fiction ought to be as true to the universe as I can make it so the reader is fully immersed.

The Last of Us (see my review of it here) is a videogame that blew chucks of my soul straight out my backside. The amazing thing about it wasn’t so much the overall story as it was the father-daughter relationship between Ellie and Joel. Their story encouraged me to make the lives of my characters meaningful and their interactions deep. One of the marks of a great story is having relatable, likeable characters. Today, so many TV shows and movies neglect this, and folks wonder why nothing good comes out anymore. Contemporary writers tend to create stories that are dark, ugly, and depressing, usually sporting characters that hate each other and only care about themselves – and then they call it beautiful. Not me. My book is something I think you’re going to enjoy.

Last example. Mass Effect and Halo inspired a sense of adventure when I played them. Both of those games have you exploring alien ruins and extrasolar worlds. I just love it. I want the readers of my book to experience that too. I remember the first time I beat Mass Effect, I realized the adventure of my story wasn’t in-depth enough. At the time, it was about how aliens attacked earth, and then we attacked them back and won. Today, it’s much deeper and more complicated. As far as I know, my idea for the story is something that’s never been done before, and that makes it so exciting to write.

Those are my favorite examples. There’s so much to gain by partaking in the imaginations of others. If you’re the creative type, do it.

Before I go (I don’t even want to tell you how late it is), I will say there are some works you should not try to get inspiration from. A better way to put that might be to say there’s plenty of examples out there of what not to do. It’s important to be able to determine what’s good and what isn’t.

I won’t give you a list of what I think is bad. It’d be hilarious if I did though.

There’s something about writing in my underwear with a cup of coffee that makes me inspired. The thing is, though, I have to put a towel down because my chair is made of leather, and leather rubs me the wrong way, if you know what I mean. I have the thighs of a god.

Anyway, blog time.

The other day, I was killing time before work, and I wrote a scene in my book where my character experiences a dream. I’ve written about dreams before, but I think I’ve always gone about it the wrong way. In the past, I treated dreams almost like scenes within scenes, which is not quite how dreams work.

This time, while it is still technically a scene within a scene, I wrote it differently. This dream, like real dreams, possesses a certain chaos and absurdness about it. That’s how it’s supposed to be. My issue, then, is transitioning between the character’s awakened state and his dream-state, and then back again to his awakened state. I’m not entirely sure, but I don’t think the transition is abrupt enough. Take a look:

Adam sat on the toilet and peed like a girl. He was too exhausted to stand.

He stayed there and held his head in his hands and closed his eyes. He instantly dreamed of a girl he used to date, a pretty-eyed thing he once knew back in Georgia. She was right there with him in Tranquility, and they were riding in an automated car with the city lights drifting quietly above them. Adam decided to prepare her a nice meal because that’s romantic, he guessed, and because he thought it might impress her if he knew how to cook. The back seat of his car was also his apartment, and though it continued to drive, he was able to cook pancakes right there on the stove. Oh, no. She won’t be impressed with pancakes. He went to grab a bottle of wine out of the fridge, but all that was there was bottled water. He searched the apartment for it, but to no avail. He tried the small refrigerator at the front of the car – nothing. He then turned back to the apartment, but saw the back seat was nothing more than what it ought to be – a back seat. He looked at the girl, embarrassed, and said, “Let’s go back to Vela. We’ll share a glass of wine at my apartment.”

Adam awoke from the dream. He gasped for air and opened his eyes, and he was still sitting there on the toilet. He forced his gaze toward the alarm clock.

It was 7:40.

I don’t know how I feel about this. Simply writing “Adam awoke from the dream” doesn’t sit right with me. The entrance to the dream seems okay. Saying he instantly dreamed was an indication of how tired he was. Also, while the clarity of the dream isn’t meant to be as clear as a waking scene, I am gambling that it’s not too unclear. It’s chaos, which is fine. But the reader needs to be able to follow what my character sees.

 

April, 18, 2017 UPDATE: Here’s what I ultimately came up with:

The alarm, an old-fashioned model from the turn of the century, was intentionally located in the bathroom so he wouldn’t have easy-access to the snooze button. When he finally got there, his eyes were barely open, and his breathing was heavy from the effort. He silenced the alarm, and finally, there was precious, precious quiet.

Adam sat on the toilet and peed like a girl, too exhausted to stand.

He stayed there, held his head in his hands, and closed his eyes. He dreamed of a girl he used to love, a beautiful pretty-eyed brunette he knew in Atlanta named Candy.

Candy had come to Tranquility. She was in a brilliant royal-blue dress that accented her complexion and hair, and Adam wore a suit much nicer than he could afford.

It was a lovely night in the city.

They rode in his automated car as the skyscraper lights drifted quietly above them. Adam decided to prepare her a nice meal because that’s romantic, he guessed, and because he thought it might impress her if he knew how to cook.

The back seat of his car was also his apartment, and though it continued to drive, Adam cooked pancakes right there on the stove. She won’t be impressed with pancakes, he thought.

Adam forgot about the pancakes and decided a glass of wine would do instead, but all he could find was bottled water. He searched everywhere for the wine, but to no avail. He tried the lunchbox-sized refrigerator at the front of the car – nothing. He turned back to the apartment, but the back seat was nothing more than what it ought to be: A back seat. He looked at Candy, embarrassed, and said, “Let’s go back to Vela. We’ll share a glass of wine at my apartment.”

They locked eyes, and he held her hands within his own. He pulled her to him and kissed the lips of her memory.

Adam woke up and was still on the toilet. He forced his vision toward the alarm clock and saw that it was 7:40. Five minutes.

He forgot about Candy.

Clothes. There were plenty of them scattered about the floor of the bathroom, but they were too dirty to wear. By Adam’s standards, clothes were clean until they smelled bad, but these smelled so bad the whole bathroom was sour. He might be able to find something clean enough in the main room, he reasoned, so he decided to make his way that direction.