Category Archives: writing

Not My Skill Set

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So, I have been tinkering with a book cover for my werewolf novel, The Wolves of Wallace Point. I am actually unlikely to self-publish the book but the thought continues to run through my head.

I have no graphic training and very little talent in that art, but I did have a concept, an idea for something that I might like even if it was out of step with current trends in book cover design.

Decades ago, and I am talking like 80 years, one accepted design school for books was to have the cover very simple, one or two colors as your background, some very simple design elements and the text of the title and the author. No illustrations, no paintings or photographic elements, a cover stripped down to bare minimalism.

So, using Claude, because I have no experience or skill with photoshop or the like, and public-domain clip art, I knocked together this cover. It’s not sized for a paperback or hardback book, but just the front image of an eBook, but you know, I think it kind of works. I don’t consider it to be an A.I. made cover, though I used an A.I. to help me make it. I selected the color, the font, the clip-art paw prints and used Claude to execute my vision much quicker and much more easily than if I had tried to learn enough Photoshop to achieve the same effect.

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Stalled and Going Into a Spin

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My current Work in Progress, WIP, is stuck with me not having added any new text to the project in about two weeks. This is usually an indication that if a project is not dead then it is in critical condition and scarcely alive in the Intensive Care Unit.

It has been a very long time since a novel sized project of mine has crashed and burned without reaching a completed manuscript and even far longer since one has crashed so early in the process. Having an unfinished manuscript is a bit of an embarrassment and something that ignites guilt and a little depression, prompting motivation to get the thing some forward momentum. But I think before I do that, I need to understand why it stalled and how I can recover this aircraft before it discovers that its altimeter has reached an AGL of zero.

The novel before this one, my gay, 80s, San Diego-centric, ghost story, written sans outline, was a great variation from my usual authorial practice and I am very happy with the results. (Even if to date I haven’t found an agent that shares that opinion.) I started this next project also without an outline and between that lack and the nature of the story, large spread out with what I hope to be a collection of important characters but lacking a single point of view carrying it through, I think those factors are why it is struggling.

So, my recovery plan right now is to stop work on the manuscript itself and revert to an outline. Make sure I know the various characters that are exploring the multiple themes of the novel and then resume writing. If that fails then it would be best to move on to a new project, something, perhaps, less ambitious.

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Art Is Choices Not Prompts

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With generative A.I. getting more and more capable in nearly all areas but particularly in creating video imagery there have been a number of voices, not industry voices mind you, proclaiming the death of Hollywood with some short video piece that they crafted.

The videos are impressive for what they are, a machine mimicking the data that has been fed into it, but there is so much more to a film, a novel, a painting or any other art than how it appears in its final form. Art is about the choices the artist made along the path of creation and not just the final product that was created.

Some artists are very intellectual, plotting out every detail of their art, knowing with deliberate decision why everything is the way it is, why that color was employed and not some other hue, why the character has that particular name. Other artists work more from hunches and intuition, making decisions on the fly, exploring the piece as they create it. Why that color? It just seemed right. Both types, and every type in between, are making choices, and those choices in aggregate create what is the style and voice of the artist. It is the sum of the choices that let us look at a movie and tell the difference from one directed by James Cameron and one directed by Steven Spielberg, why a song by Taylor Swift doesn’t sound like one from Danny Elfman, why a novel from Kazuo Ishiguro hits different than one from Gail Carriger.

That voice that is generated by the thousands and thousands of choices made by the artist is a product of the artist, the events of their lives, and the way they see and interpret the world around them. It is why only they could have produced that one piece of art, because it is a reflection of everything that they are, had been, and how they are interacting with the world at that exact moment of creation.

Generative A.I. does not make choices, it uses probability on what the next word, or pixel is going to be, probability that is derived from the blending of all the similar data that it has been fed. Mind you, that is still a vast powerful tool. An A.I. powered grammar review will nearly all the time catch when you have typed “tub” when you meant “tube” making it a powerful assist in catching those nasty little errors, but it has no voice. Generative A.I. has no opinions on the world, it has never suffered heartbreak of love not returned nor the heights of joyous love that is returned. It’s an impressive parrot regurgitating with stunning ability what it has been fed, but by that very nature what it creates is bland, without the strong point of view that makes art last.

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Life, Uninterrupted

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Not a lot going on at the moment in my life, just the usual day to day action, reactions, and observations that is the slow steady passing of time from today to tomorrow. Certainly, there is a tremendous amount going on in the world but I am far from inclined to write even short posts about the terrible state of the United States. Those inclined to see it my way already do and those who are not so inclined are for all effective purposes immune to any arguments I might make. This is the reason why I am so terrible at Twitter. I see a stupid post from some random person I scroll right on by.  There’s nothing to gain from arguing with strangers on the internet. When I do respond to a post it is nearly always because I personally know that person. Even then I merely note and move on from most of their posts without interaction.

I have started a new novel but it’s very vague at this time and I am just sort of feeling my way through the opening chapters to see if I can uncover the voice for this book before committing myself to its creation.

My Sweetie-Wife and I watched Predators: Badlands a film I suspect will slip quietly and quickly from my memory. It is not bad; it is very competently crafted but I never crossed the gulf of empathy between myself and the characters. Taking us into the Yautja culture robbed them of most of their power as a force and the character came off as pretty one-note.

In anticipation of the next season, I have begun a  rewatch of Dune: Prophecy  the HBO series about the founding of the Bene Gesserit, and it’s just as wonderful on the second watch as it was on the first and like The Godfather, a rewatching actually helps me with the tangled and dense plotting.

Last night I watched the trailer for the Netflix series How to get to Heaven from Belfast and had the most enjoyable reaction to a trailer that I have experienced in a very long time. This quickly shot up the list for something for us to watch in our household.

You know when the manufacturer suggests a part should be replaced annually, that’s something to listen to, I was shaving Monday morning and felt a strange sensation against my cheek and something pinged off the countertop. A part of the electric shaver head had abandoned its post and one of the two metal foils that cover the cutting surface had sprung up. I wasn’t cut in any way and a replaced head showed up quickly via Amazon. My order history showed that it had been two years to the month since I had replaced the head that should be replaced annually.

And that, my friends is my life, mostly dull, somewhat creative, and at least a little entertaining.

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I Get a New Desk

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Hopefully life will get a little less painful after today.

At my day job where I work in a cubicle, the desks are adjustable for height. There’s a neat little button off the left edge with which you can raise the desk all the way up to a standing desk or lower it enough for a wheelchair user. For most of the time, this has been a godsend. During working hours, I had the desk at the height that was right for the dual monitors I needed to perform my processing. Then on lunch I raised the desk so that it was ergonomically better for spending an hour working on my laptop.

Then the desk broke.

At first when I lowered it, sometimes it wouldn’t stop and just lower all the way, forcing me to scramble out of its path lest my leg get squished. I could then raise it where I needed it, but eventually the motor lost its function and would only lower it, always to the bottom setting. I had to force it up and disconnect the controller. The desk is now at a height that’s right for neither work and is particularly bad for my laptop work, inducing terrible neck pain.

That’s right, it’s literally a pain in the neck.

It has been like this for months, first because the people who maintain the desks couldn’t get the parts they needed, and then because they couldn’t get what they needed to simply replace the desk. Well, today I should be in a much better situation; I am moving to a new cube.

I got to pick out the cube I wanted, making sure I am not next to any of our large windows in the office where intense sunlight could induce a migraine and still positioned well enough away from most of the rest of the floor so it will be quieter for the most part.

With me about to embark on a new novel, this comes at a perfect time.

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The Hardest Aspect of Writing a Novel

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Now, this is going to be different for different writers. Some will find the plotting to be the mountain that they must conquer; for others it will be the dialogue, and others constructing the actual sentences, or crafting interesting characters, even just finding the time to get the damned words down on paper or in the processor. I have often said that the hardest part of writing is butt-to-chair, fingers-to-keyboard—actually getting started with that day’s production of prose—and I stand by it. But today I want to talk about not the actual words-in-a-row challenge, but a different challenge: writing with the goal of traditional publication.

It is not the novel manuscript itself. Not to me. Outrageous Fortune clocks in at about 96,000 words, and I produced that volume in about six months. Once I hit the first 6,000 to 7,000 words, the work becomes self-generating, and I almost never had a manuscript die once that threshold was reached.

Ahh, but after that comes the really hard writing: the query letter and the synopsis.

The query letter should ideally be under 300 words; agents are busy and don’t have time for lengthy missives—rambling in your query won’t inspire confidence in your fiction. In that letter you need to give the basics of your work: genre and word count, a paragraph that conveys the story, the character, the conflict, and the theme, along with a closing that details your credits (if any) and why you’re the right person to have written this novel. Remember: you’re doing all this—displaying your voice and uniqueness as a writer—in about 300 words.

The synopsis has the benefit of needing only the story, but it’s still a maddening challenge. Now, in about 400 words, you need to tell the core story of your novel, the characters, the challenges, the themes, and exactly how it all resolves—ideally with some stylistic flourish. My novel required 96,000 words to establish who everyone is and why they act as they do. Hopefully, the characters come across to readers as believable people acting in a manner consistent with their nature. I have managed to produce a synopsis that is under 400 words and I think it’s good, but man, so much of what makes this story work is not in that bit of text.

Will it work? Only the agents can tell you—and waiting for their response is the second hardest thing about writing.

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Sometimes You Miss The Obvious

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I got a little feedback on the opening chapters of my gay, 80s, cinephile, horror novel and it caused me to see something pretty important that I had missed.

The feedback thought that the opening chapter needed a little more of the world and a little more of the character’s interior life. These were both fair critiques. In all honesty, when I wrote the chapter originally, I hadn’t formed a solid conception of the character and just what was going on. After all, this was the first time I had ‘pantsed’ a novel and those elements developed later. While in editing and revision I had taken care of plot details that would pay off later, because the character was now so well defined in my mind, I failed to edit to that image. So, I began revision but not fully rewriting the first chapter, opening up the main character’s thoughts so the reader met him more fully, and adding color and detail to the San Diego of 1984 that would be accurate and informative.

The character is gay, and the mid-80s, while better than the decades before it, still presented a strong homophobic culture which I utilized to reveal character—the ‘Chick Tracts’ left at his theater and other minor elements. Thinking about the Fundamentalist mindset, growing in power at the time as the nation sprinted towards Reagan’s 49-state sweep, and how it felt to be a gay man in that time focused my search for details that both reflected the world and how the character felt about them.

And that is when I realized I had missed something BIG.

The novel covers a period of time from June 1, 1984, through mid-July of that year and somehow, I managed to forget entirely about Pride, the remembrance and celebration of gay culture commemorating the Stonewall Riot with a march and often a lot of partying. Even if nothing takes place at the march and the character is far too entangled with supernatural threats to be partying, Pride is going to be a vital part of the background for those couple of weeks of the novel.

Now I am revising the first third of the novel, adding in the details and color of Pride week and its aftermath, making the novel better.

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A Fairly Pleasant Week

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After weeks of working overtime and feeling the crush of massive amounts of work, I decided that my mental health required a break and this week I took off Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.

Now, these days were not entirely my own, but what appointments I had were short and not too troublesome. Monday required a visit to the dentist to have an impression made for the crown of my latest tooth implant. Thanks to the wonders of modern science this time I did not have to hold my mouth closed over a bunch of gunk as it hardened. Instead, they scanned the inside of my mouth with a laser-based measuring device and recreated the contours that way. Very cool.

Tuesday, I visited a speech therapist for techniques that might help control and mitigate the persistent cough that has pestered me for two years.

Wednesday, I took my Kia Soul to our local mechanic for a tune-up as the little car is just about to hit 100,000 miles.

At home during those three days I relaxed and worked on my query letter and I think I have had a breakthrough. The roughest parts of the letter, which is ideally kept to a single page of text, is the paragraphs where you actually pitch the novel. Until this breakthrough I had been focused on describing the plots of the novels I pitched, but I think this theme focused approach might work better. Here is the pitch for the current novel Outrageous Fortune.

In San Diego in 1984 Dave Ludendorff lives a charmed life and is a good man. In spite of being a gay teenager in the ’70s he has never been taunted, hounded, or beaten for his orientation. The arthouse theater he inherited, that Dave has made a sanctuary for the queer and the outcast, thrives. Even with the resurgent Moral Majority of Reagan’s America, his life is good, blessed with friends and health.

The facade of Dave’s life crumbles with the discovery of a film depicting his grandfather leading a human sacrifice, a ritual that brought Dave this preternaturally charmed life. Now, with his grandfather’s cult pursuing him and murderous ghosts unleashed, Dave uncovers that everything he understood about his life, and perhaps himself, is a lie. Only by uncovering his family’s buried secrets can he hope to survive.

The truth, however, forces a terrible choice on Dave. He can accept the benefits of that human sacrifice, preserving his charmed life, but with the knowledge that like his grandfather and father before him he is the sort of evil man who profits from the suffering of others. Or he can destroy the cult, naively face the world without supernatural protections, enduring “the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” and in truth become the good man he always imagined himself to be.

I am going to do a little more work on it and then we’ll see if this draws better results than the previous version.

Last Sunday was a particularly nice day here in San Diego and my sweetie-wife and I made our regular visit to the zoo. Because we are zoo members, we could ignore the nasty new regulations that are charging people for parking at the Zoo and Balboa Park. With the sun out and hardly a cloud in the sky I brought along my camera and snapped a number of pictures. Here are two, the first shows just how damned nice the paths through the zoo were that day and the second of a hippo, in greyscale, looking like something from a horror film.

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A Thematic Problem with The Red Shirt Issue

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Yesterday evening, I came across a post from a friend online that expressed their middling reaction to del Toro’s Frankenstein prompting a return of my own thoughts that del Toro had worked so hard to make his monster sympathetic that no one of consequence died at its hands, a major deviation from the source text.

del Toro’s use of nameless crew to be killed in a thrilling and exciting opening combat scene with an unstoppable monster makes for a great opening to his luscious film but becomes hollow when the rest of the time the monster is presented melodramatically sympathetic and without emotional or ethical flaws. One could be forgiven for forgetting that the movie opened with mass murder. After all, they were literally nobodies.

Now, I have written about this before calling it his ‘Red Shirt’ problem. For those who are unaware, ‘red shirts’ refers to the often unnamed and wholly uncharacterized extras presented as security officers in Star Trek. These day players came onto the scene and in popular (but exaggerated) opinion died in droves.  The essence is still on target, they were essentially nameless characters brought on to dramatize the danger of that episode, a necessary evil of the time as no network program could go about killing its major and central characters. (This was decades before Game of Thrones would make it a drinking game.)

Western literature and oral tradition stretching back into prehistory is corrupted with a nasty little idea, that some people are simply born better than the rest of us. The nobility deserves their castles, their rich food, and the product of our labor, our bodies, and our lives because of the blue blood that courses through their veins. The ‘Chosen One’ narrative so popular in everything from religion to Star Wars is a product of this form of thinking. Luke and Aragon are good people because they were born to it, not from choice, not from making a decision to be good, but by their very blood. The force and the right to rule flows from their heritage and not their choices. We, the non-chosen, need to step aside and let out betters make the choices that will rule our lives. Our duty is to serve and to be thankful.

And here is the poisonous subtext in the ‘red shirt’ problem, it perpetuates this division of people into those worth and deserving of sympathy, consideration, and ultimately power from those lower, nameless people of the great ‘unwashed masses’ whose existence only matters in the moment that it impacts the monied and good-blooded people worthy of names. There are your ‘betters’ to whom you must defer with titles such as my lord, sir, mister — and to whom you must pay your obedience or suffer the lash and then there is everyone else, ‘red shirts’ to be used and discarded either on the battlefield or the factory to advance the lives and lifestyles of their ‘betters.’ The subtext of nameless victims in horror and action movies is that some lives are inherently more valuable than others.

“Red shirts” are not only a lazy and cheap play for a short cut to dramatic stakes, the practice subtly subverts the egalitarian ideals that all lives are valuable regardless of the accident of their birth or their importance to any particular narrative by regulating some characters to nameless and forgettable disposal.

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The New Year, as We Reckon it, Has Begun

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I think it is important to remember that the dominant calendar of the world, this Gregorian Calendar is not the only marking of the passing years utilized on this planet. While it is the new year for many of us it is not for all of us. But still, it is here in the United States and so I am observing that personally while keeping in mind that my perspective is not the rules of the universe.

I am not one for making resolutions at the turn of the year. It has never held a great deal of weight for me and the few times I have done so the matter was quickly discarded or forgotten. In their place I like to put objectives that are measurable and within my control but do not attempt a ‘re-invention’ of oneself. I also like to look at achievements, even if they are small from the previous years.

2025 was not the best year I have experienced but by far it was not the worst. I completed the first novel where I used no outline of the plot or characters. Now, I am not proposing that writing a novel without an outline is superior to one that was carefully plotted. Both approaches are valid and what matters is if the process works for the author. Outrageous Fortune could not have been written sans outline if I had not written so many novel projects before it with careful outlines. Structure, the use of five acts, a sense of pacing dictated by the flow of the plot, all came from experience that had been born from those outlines.

With Outrageous Fortune completed, edited, and proofed by my lovely sweetie-wife, I have yet another novel to try and win me an agent and another shot at traditional publication.

For 2026 I endeavor to write a new novel, but I think I shall shy away from a concept that I love but do not feel ready to tackle quite yet.

2026 will also see a fresh assault from me and my doctors on this persistent chronic cough left over from my COVID infection of January of 2024. Towards the end of 2025 I seemed to be responding to therapy, but a sinus infection has wiped out all the progress we made.

I also will try, depending on schedules and such, to attend more meetings of the San Diego chapter of the Horror Writers Association. They are good people, I have kept my membership active, and post on the Facebook page but attended zero meetings during 2025.

This is my look forward to 2026 and I hope that yours is kind, good, and happy.

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