Author Archives: Madd_Fictional

Speak Boldly of Your Intention to Write

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

“There’s a difference between interest and commitment. When you’re interested in doing something, you do it only when it’s convenient. When you’re committed to something, you accept no excuses – only results.”  —–Kenneth H. Blanchard

Commitment is what transforms an idea floating around in your head into reality. Putting pen to paper speaks boldly of your intentions and are the actions which speak louder than the words. It’s making the time when there is none. Coming through time after time after time, year after year after year. Commitment is the stuff character is made of; the power to shape ethereal things. It’s the daily triumph of integrity over skepticism.

So, how committed are you?

Sally forth and be writeful.

— Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

A Health Dose of Realism About Writing

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

  1. Arrogant new aspiring writers usually don’t have decent stories
  2. Shy, unsure aspiring writers anxious to get feedback are more likely to have a decent story
  3. Aspiring writers unable to write decent descriptive prose haven’t found their voice yet
  4. Most new aspiring writer stories have no second act
  5. Most new aspiring writers are under the delusion their idea is more original than it is
  6. Many new aspiring writers, regardless of age, haven’t read the classics, especially within their preferred genre
  7. Because an aspiring writer is an avid reader does not mean they’re a good writer
  8. Fanboys don’t necessarily make good writers; they’re inspired but imitative
  9. Most new aspiring writers with novel manuscripts over 110,000 words don’t have a handle on their story
  10. Many new aspiring writers read too many how-to books and get totally confused
  11. New aspiring writers hate to kill their darlings and their pages are over-populated with them
  12. Experienced writers hate to kill their darlings but do it before asked
  13. First time aspiring writers usually tell biographical stories
  14. Gory, ultra-violent horror is most often written by young men under the age of 25
  15. Dull romantic dramas are most often written by women over the age of 45
  16. Unfunny romcoms are most often written by young men under the age of 25
  17. Action stories are almost always written by men of any age
  18. First time aspiring writers think their first novel is brilliant
  19. Experienced writers will never show you their first story – ever
  20. Experienced female writers write well in any genre
  21. Inexperienced female writers often write about love
  22. Good characters never have bad dialogue
  23. Structure is confusing for the first three stories – then something clicks
  24. Whether a writer is shy or charismatic has no bearing on the quality of writing
  25. No new writer is realistic about breaking in to the business
  26. The location or gender of the writer has no bearing on the quality of the writing
  27. Age does not define an ability to come up with fresh ideas (most fresh ideas are in fact not fresh at all)
  28. Older writers most often write true or historical stories
  29. Young male writers often imitate their favorite authors
  30. Female writers are quite capable of writing great action but rarely do
  31. Divorcees often write about romance or revenge
  32. Most writers haven’t built up a good arsenal of stories; all their eggs are in one basket
  33. New writers think getting an agent is easy and will happen within a year or so
  34. Newly agented writers think their career will automatically take off in a huge way
  35. Experienced writers know they’ll go through many agents over time
  36. Newer writers don’t test their premises or write outlines properly
  37. Writers who regard themselves as writer-savants refuse to write what’s commercial – and may very well succeed after years of failure
  38. Writers who regard themselves as auteurs refuse to embrace that this is a sales job – and melt into a pool of bitter disillusionment and hate publishing houses thereafter
  39. Wealthy writers try to buy their way into the business using the most expensive software and consultants and gurus and melt into a bitter pool of outrage
  40. Writers with disposable incomes obsessively attend conferences more than they actually write
  41. Writers who’ve been disappointed over and over hate consultants or anything designed to help them succeed and nurse outraged, red-hot victim complexes
  42. First stories generally aren’t good
  43. Second stories generally aren’t good
  44. Third stories generally aren’t as bad as the first two
  45. Writers with successful other careers feel entitled to success in getting published
  46. A writer’s determination to keep trying is in direct proportion to their talent
  47. Entitlement is in inverse proportion to talent
  48. Talent is delightful and easy to spot from the first sentence
  49. A bad story is a bad story from the first sentence

There are, of course, exceptions to every rule and this list is merely an observation. You may agree with most, some or none of it at all. If you’re able to turn a Holmesian eye upon yourself and spot a few less than stellar things that relate to you on this list, that’s the first step in making a change for the better.

Sally forth and be writeful.

— Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

  • Boastful, cock-sure writers usually don’t have very good scripts
  • Shy, unsure writers anxious to get notes are more likely to have a good script
  • Writers who can’t write good action lines have no “voice” yet
  • Most beginning writers have no second act
  • Most beginning writers think their idea is more original than it is
  • Many writers, regardless of age, have not seen the classics
  • Because a writer is a cinefile does not mean he or she is a good writer
  • Fanboys do not necessarily make good writers; they are inspired but imitative
  • Most writers with 133 page scripts do not have a handle on their story
  • Many writers read too many how-to books and get totally confused
  • Newer writers hate to kill their darlings and their pages are crowded with them
  • Experienced writers hate to kill their darlings but do it before asked
  • Clumsy, over-written action lines are the most accurate predictor of a bad script
  • First time writers usually tell biographical stories
  • Gory, ultra-violent horror is most often written by young men under the age of 25
  • Dull romantic dramas are most often written by women over the age of 45
  • Unfunny romcoms are most often written by young men under the age of 25
  • Action scripts are almost always written by men of any age
  • First time writers think their first script is brilliant
  • Experienced writers will never show you their first script – ever
  • Writers who use camera directions secretly want to direct
  • Experienced female writers write well in any genre
  • Inexperienced female writers often write about love
  • Good characters never have bad dialogue
  • Bad dialogue is never accompanied by good characters
  • Structure is confusing for the first three scripts – then something clicks
  • Writers who can’t articulate a quick logline have sprawling, confusing scripts
  • Whether a writers is shy or charismatic has no bearing on the quality of writing
  • Good writers never include pictures, maps or music with their script
  • No new writer is realistic about breaking in to the business
  • The location or gender of the writer has no bearing on the quality of the writing
  • Age does not define an ability to come up with fresh ideas
  • Most fresh ideas are in fact not fresh at all
  • It takes a long time to understand “the same but different”
  • Older writers most often write true or historical scripts
  • Young male writers often imitate their favorite movies
  • Female writers do not write American Pie or Harold and Kumar knock-offs
  • Female writers are quite capable of writing great action but rarely do
  • Divorcees often write about romance or revenge
  • Most writers have not built up a good arsenal of scripts; all eggs are in one basket
  • New writers think getting a rep is easy and will happen within a year or so
  • Newly repped writers think their career will automatically take off in a huge way
  • Experienced writers know they will go through many reps over time
  • Younger writers often do not think send thank you notes when they get a read
  • Older writers think Hollywood is more polite than it is
  • Newer writers do not test their premises or write outlines properly
  • Writers who regard themselves as writer-savants refuse to write what’s commercial – and may very well succeed after years of failure
  • Writers who regard themselves as auteurs refuse to embrace that this is a sales job – and melt into a pool of bitter disillusionment and hate Hollywood thereafter
  • Wealthy writers try to buy their way into the business using the most expensive software and consultants and melt into a bitter pool of outrage
  • Writers with disposable incomes obsessively attend conferences and pitch fests more than they actually write
  • Writers who cannot execute a script mechanically generally don’t have a good story
  • Writers who have been disappointed over and over hate consultants or anything designed to help them succeed and nurse outraged, red-hot victim complexes
  • First scripts suck
  • Second scripts suck
  • Third script suck a little less
  • Writers with successful other careers feel entitled to success in Hollywood
  • A writer’s determination to keep trying is in direct proportion to their talent
  • Entitlement is in inverse proportion to talent
  • Young writers think that Hollywood is only for the young
  • Older writers think that Hollywood is only for the young
  • Experienced writers know that Hollywood needs good stories and that a good story and being good in a room trumps age any day
  • Talent is delightful and easy to spot on page one
  • A bad script is a bad script from page one

– See more at: http://www.justeffing.com/tag/being-realistic-about-your-writing/#sthash.EAgP2PBB.dpuf

  • Boastful, cock-sure writers usually don’t have very good scripts
  • Shy, unsure writers anxious to get notes are more likely to have a good script
  • Writers who can’t write good action lines have no “voice” yet
  • Most beginning writers have no second act
  • Most beginning writers think their idea is more original than it is
  • Many writers, regardless of age, have not seen the classics
  • Because a writer is a cinefile does not mean he or she is a good writer
  • Fanboys do not necessarily make good writers; they are inspired but imitative
  • Most writers with 133 page scripts do not have a handle on their story
  • Many writers read too many how-to books and get totally confused
  • Newer writers hate to kill their darlings and their pages are crowded with them
  • Experienced writers hate to kill their darlings but do it before asked
  • Clumsy, over-written action lines are the most accurate predictor of a bad script
  • First time writers usually tell biographical stories
  • Gory, ultra-violent horror is most often written by young men under the age of 25
  • Dull romantic dramas are most often written by women over the age of 45
  • Unfunny romcoms are most often written by young men under the age of 25
  • Action scripts are almost always written by men of any age
  • First time writers think their first script is brilliant
  • Experienced writers will never show you their first script – ever
  • Writers who use camera directions secretly want to direct
  • Experienced female writers write well in any genre
  • Inexperienced female writers often write about love
  • Good characters never have bad dialogue
  • Bad dialogue is never accompanied by good characters
  • Structure is confusing for the first three scripts – then something clicks
  • Writers who can’t articulate a quick logline have sprawling, confusing scripts
  • Whether a writers is shy or charismatic has no bearing on the quality of writing
  • Good writers never include pictures, maps or music with their script
  • No new writer is realistic about breaking in to the business
  • The location or gender of the writer has no bearing on the quality of the writing
  • Age does not define an ability to come up with fresh ideas
  • Most fresh ideas are in fact not fresh at all
  • It takes a long time to understand “the same but different”
  • Older writers most often write true or historical scripts
  • Young male writers often imitate their favorite movies
  • Female writers do not write American Pie or Harold and Kumar knock-offs
  • Female writers are quite capable of writing great action but rarely do
  • Divorcees often write about romance or revenge
  • Most writers have not built up a good arsenal of scripts; all eggs are in one basket
  • New writers think getting a rep is easy and will happen within a year or so
  • Newly repped writers think their career will automatically take off in a huge way
  • Experienced writers know they will go through many reps over time
  • Younger writers often do not think send thank you notes when they get a read
  • Older writers think Hollywood is more polite than it is
  • Newer writers do not test their premises or write outlines properly
  • Writers who regard themselves as writer-savants refuse to write what’s commercial – and may very well succeed after years of failure
  • Writers who regard themselves as auteurs refuse to embrace that this is a sales job – and melt into a pool of bitter disillusionment and hate Hollywood thereafter
  • Wealthy writers try to buy their way into the business using the most expensive software and consultants and melt into a bitter pool of outrage
  • Writers with disposable incomes obsessively attend conferences and pitch fests more than they actually write
  • Writers who cannot execute a script mechanically generally don’t have a good story
  • Writers who have been disappointed over and over hate consultants or anything designed to help them succeed and nurse outraged, red-hot victim complexes
  • First scripts suck
  • Second scripts suck
  • Third script suck a little less
  • Writers with successful other careers feel entitled to success in Hollywood
  • A writer’s determination to keep trying is in direct proportion to their talent
  • Entitlement is in inverse proportion to talent
  • Young writers think that Hollywood is only for the young
  • Older writers think that Hollywood is only for the young
  • Experienced writers know that Hollywood needs good stories and that a good story and being good in a room trumps age any day
  • Talent is delightful and easy to spot on page one
  • A bad script is a bad script from page one

– See more at: http://www.justeffing.com/tag/being-realistic-about-your-writing/#sthash.EAgP2PBB.dpuf

Do You Blindside Yourself With Your Writing? If Not, Why Not?

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

“Surprise yourself.  If you can bring the story – or let it bring you – to a place that amazes you, then you can surprise your reader.” —– Chuck Palahniuk

Has your writing ever blindsided you? Have your characters ever caught you off guard by saying or doing something clever or revealing a bit of information that you yourself didn’t know? When re-reading a piece that you set aside to cool, have you ever wondered where the ideas, voices, and speculative elements came from and if you have any more of that inside you?

The answer is: Of course there’s more.

Writing is a journey of discovery, and one of the great pleasures of storytelling is that you discover the amazing things that dwell in your brain, things about yourself and your thought processes that you might not otherwise uncover. And besides self-expression, isn’t that the major point of writing?

So, how do you blindside yourself with your talent? You simply let go.

Get out of your own head and write on instinct. Park the perfectionist on the soft shoulder and write your ever-loving heart out. This is part and parcel of learning to be kind to yourself as you write. Your genius can’t flow steadily with someone backseat editing the entire trip. You can always swing back around and pick up the bugger when you’re ready to begin the rewrite.

And don’t begin your story fretting about how it’ll end. Your story is smarter than you give it credit for. When it’s done, you’ll see the pop-up timer.

It’s important to keep in mind whenever you pick up a pen or touch fingertips to keyboard that you’re doing it from a position on the shoulders of the literary giants who came before you, the ones who surprised you with their words, so every time you write, you should follow their lead and surprise yourself.

Sally Forth and be surprising yourself writeful.

— Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

PS. If you have roughly an hour to kill—-I know, it’s the internet and you’ve got memes to see and threads to troll—-you could do a lot worse than lending an ear to Ray Bradbury’s 2001 “Telling the Truth” keynote address of The Sixth Annual Writer’s Symposium by the Sea.

Not only does he counsel aspiring writers to spend their time writing lots of short stories—-even if they’re mostly bad, there’s gotta be a couple of good ones in the bunch—-but he also suggests to write with joy and for fun, and to let yourself be surprised by your writing and by life.

Sometimes Ya Just Gotta Write Badly in Order to Write Goodly

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

“The first draft of anything is shit.” ― Ernest Hemingway

Story ideas are like Christmas come early. You just can’t wait to unwrap them to reveal the goodies they hold. They also have the distinction of being a brand-spanking-new toy to play with. Your interest and enthusiasm levels are high and you’re chomping at the bit to transcribe your brilliant newborn onto paper. Life doesn’t get much better than this.

Then, somewhere along the way—-usually in the middle of Act 2—-the bloom is off the rose and finishing the piece becomes an arduous, nigh impossible task because either your interest has changed or your inspiration got a flat tire and you don’t have a spare in the trunk. The first telltale sign of trouble is that very last sentence you wrote that just doesn’t seem to work, no matter how you tweak it.

My advice? Let it be bad.

Your goal at this stage should be to get through your first draft as quickly as possible. It’s like that saying, you can’t see the forest for the trees. Well, that sentence or paragraph that you’re stuck writing and re-writing is the tree and you still have plenty more trees to clear before worrying about how pretty and perfect your forest is.

So, write through to the end, then you can take a step back, see the real shape of your story, and go about the process of polishing it to perfection—-or as close to that as you’re able to manage. But in order to get to that place, you first have to give yourself permission to write badly.

You can start by promising yourself you won’t tell anyone just how eye-burningly awful the first draft was and we’ll all be none the wiser. You can keep a secret, can’t you?

Sally forth and be courageously bad writeful.

— Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

Drop From the Sky to Rescue You

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

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“I’d run my whole life long to reach you; paddle my way across Atlantic and Pacific; traverse Jungle and Desert to find you; climb cliffs and drop from the sky to rescue you. Anything to be close to you. Any way to say I love you.” ― Heather Kris Thomas, A Place for You and Me

I was sitting around today, lamenting the upcoming series finale of Breaking Bad, while admiring the writing staff’s brilliant ability to jam the show’s characters up in impossible situations and finding creative ways to extricate them from no-way-out scenarios. Which, of course, got me thinking about The Art of the Rescue.

Don’t worry, this post is gonna be a light one. No how-to instructions—-although there is a list, I’m a writer, it’s in my blood, sue me—-or tips and tricks. Just a brief look at a few of the more common variety rescue archetypes:

Damsel/Dude in Distress

The person in distress is essentially a beloved character who has been rendered helpless and placed in danger in order to distract or delay the protagonist, leaving the villain to get on with their nefarious scheme.

Save the Girl/Guy

Different from the example above, here the person in danger is the love interest of the protagonist and when it comes time for the hero to make the sadistic choice of whether to save the life of the one she/he loves over anybody (companions, friends, family) or anything (a city, the world, the universe) else, there’s a moment of hesitation.

The trick is to have your main character struggle with the choice for the right length of time. Too short and your protagonist can come across as cold-hearted. Too long and they wallow in a pool of wishy-washiness.

A possible workaround would be for your hero to come up with a third option where both rescues can be achieved, and if you can pull this off properly, your main character wins the coveted medal for the clever badassdom.

The Dive Rescue

You’ve seen this time and time again.

A young child chases their runaway ball or some poor, unsuspecting sod wanders out into the street and lands smack dab in the path of a speeding semi-truck—whose horn works but the brakes don’t— and a character rushes out to snatch the child from impending doom, or dive-shoves the person out of harm’s way.

The variant of this is a character on the sidelines who dives into the path of a bullet or knife or other projectile weapon. This character tends to yell, “No!”, often in slow motion and lives long enough to confess their true feelings for the protagonist or to offer the one crucial piece of advice needed for the hero to complete their task.

If You Go, We All Go

Hand in hand—no pun intended—with the dive save, this rescue occurs when someone falls off a roof or a cliff to their most certain death… but, just before they slip out of reach, another character dives and catches them by the wrist. Then, as they both start slipping over the edge, another person catches the last person’s wrist, and so on and so on…

One Last Thing Before I Die

One of the protagonist’s friends or allies is presumably killed in the midst of a struggle and now the hero is on the ropes and is about to meet their end… when, just in the nick of time, the but-I-thought-you-were-dead-friend/ally intervenes and saves the main character’s life, giving them the Heroic Resolve to keep fighting. This risen from the dead character actually survives about fifty percent of the time.

The Big Guns Arrive

When a character—who can also be the protagonist in this scenario—is staring certain death in the face, and resigns themselves to it, because they know nothing can save him/her now…

BOOM! The door kicks in and standing in the doorway is the cavalry, ready to chew bubblegum and kick some ass! And they’re all out of… you get the drift.

Typically a ragtag bunch of minor characters whom the protagonist has saved in the past have banded together to mount a rescue. The great thing about these guys is that they don’t always succeed in stomping a new mudhole in the baddie’s keister. Their primary function is to free the protagonist and let her/him do all the heavy lifting.

One final thought before i let you go, the thing you need to be mindful of when penning your last minute rescue is avoiding the dreaded pit of Deus ex Machina:

Latin for god out of the machine, the term stems from ancient Greek theater and refers to scenes in which a crane (machine) was used to lower actors or statues playing a god or gods (deus) onto the stage to set things right, often near the end of the play.

Modern day Deus Ex Machina occurs when some new event, character, ability, or object solves a seemingly unsolvable problem in a sudden, unexpected way. Classic examples include:

  • In Homer’s The Odyssey, after Odysseus and Telemachus slaughter the suitors, the families of the suitors show up at the farm of Laertes seeking vengeance. As a battle is about to begin, Athena appears in the last few lines of the poem and tells both parties to stop, to which they comply.
  • In William Golding’s novel Lord of the Flies, just as the protagonist Ralph is about to be killed by the band of “hunters” at the end of the story, a ship appears from nowhere onto the island, drawn by the smoke produced by the wildfire on the island. One of the ship’s officers rescues Ralph. He and the rest of the boys are then taken from the island.
  • In Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, with Jim apprehended in the heart of the South and Huck unable to rescue him, Tom Sawyer reenters the story, having come hundreds of miles downriver to visit a relative. Huck’s reunion with Tom gives him the opportunity to free Jim and allows a channel for the resolution of all dangling storylines that the book had left behind in St. Petersburg, Missouri.
  • In Molière’s The School for Wives, Agnès is suddenly found out to have been betrothed all along to another man, which spares her from having to marry Arnolphe.
  • In Michael Crichton’s The Andromeda Strain, scientists race to find a way to contain an extremely dangerous extraterrestrial virus. In the end, they fail and the virus escapes into the atmosphere, but conveniently for mankind the virus mutates into a completely harmless form.

Sometimes it’s unavoidable. You will inevitably come to a place in one of your many and various stories where you’ve painted yourself into a corner with no other way out. If this should happen and you decide to coax god out of the machine, make sure your surprise solution not only moves the story forward but also causes minimal damage to the overall tone and ambiance of your piece.

Sally forth and be rescuingly writeful.

— Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

A Poignant Story, Simply Told

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

In my daily ‘net wanderings I tripped and fell over the above ad from Thailand for a mobile phone company—which really doesn’t factor into the story at all—that serves as a prime example of simple story telling.

All the elements of dramatic structure are present. But instead of creating a long-winded post that most wouldn’t read, I’ve decided to take my own advice and keep it simple. Though not a poet, I wrote my thoughts on the subject in verse:

I have banged on ad nauseum in some previous post
About the best stories told are where less is the most
Abandon complex words you once deem so refined
As it tends to leave more than a few readers behind
Complication wasn’t missed or mourned when it died
As people pursued minimalism, a life more simplified
Leave the clutter behind and your work unpolluted
And remember the old adage:

I said I wasn’t a poet, now you see that it’s true, not only does mama know it, but my daddy do, too.

Sally forth and be writeful.

— Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

Duchess and the Anecdote

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

Duchess“Art to me is an anecdote of the spirit, and the only means of making concrete the purpose of its varied quickness and stillness.” —– Mark Rothko

They come from miles around, my characters do, traveling the great distance from the fringes of my minds eye, some even making the long and arduous haul from my childhood, just to sit and talk. They do this whenever I’m alone.

As they gather ’round, I cast an eye upon their many and various faces and can’t help but feel the slightest twinge of remorse. Being in my company, locked within the confines of my imagination, is not wholly unlike a purgatory for them. A holding pattern, a waiting room, where they converse amongst themselves in voices audible only to myself, trying to catch my attention in the slimmest hope of being set free. Birthed into a story.

Some are fresh meat, the rest lifers, each easily spotted by the differences in their appearance and the strength of their voices. Fresh meats are gossamers—newly formed characters, little more than a stack of traits—who shout in whispers. Lifers, on the other hand, are as fleshed out as you or I, perhaps even more so, who have acquired the proper pitch and turn of phrase to catch me unawares during the times when my mind idles.

Before the talks begin–serious conversation, not the normal natterings they engage in–a flying thing the size of a butterfly, jewel toned blue stripes, greenish gold spots, with flecks of silver on the wings, lands in the palm of my outstretched hand.

“What is that, then?” a childlike voice asks from somewhere deep in the crowd, low to the ground. I recognize it instantly.

“It’s an anecdote, Duchess. Come see for yourself.” I reply, as the creature’s wings beat softly on my palm.

The throng–my personal rogues gallery whose roster includes reputables and reprobates alike–part like the Red Sea, making way for the most noble of all serval cats, The Duchess.

“An antidote? Have you been poisoned?” The Duchess queries as she saunters into the open space, a dollop of concern gleaming in her vivid blue eyes.

I try to not laugh, partly out of respect, but mostly due to the fact that though she is the eldest of my unused characters, she is technically still but a kitten. “No, Duchess, it’s an anecdote, as in a short, amusing or interesting story about a person or an incident.”

“I know full well what an anecdote is, thank you kindly. I was merely attempting to lighten the dreadfully somber mood with a bit of levity.” Not her best faux pas cover, but it was swift, which should count for something. As casually as she could manage, the kitten turned to see if anyone found amusement at her expense. No one did. They knew better. “May I hold it?”

I hesitate and stare at the leapling. Created on February 29th all those many years ago, it was my rationale–on paper–for keeping her a kitten, seeing as she had fewer birthdays, she would naturally age at a decelerated rate. The actuality is I have an affinity for kittens. For full grown cats? Not so much. And now the dilemma is if her kittenish nature should come into play and, without meaning to, cause injury to the anecdote, then all this would be for naught.

Her eyes plead with all the promise of being good and I have no choice but to relent. “It’s fragile, so be gentle. Take care not to crush it.” I gently place the anecdote in her cupped paws.

“Why does one need an anecdote?” The Duchess of Albion asked, her nose twitching whenever the creature moves its wings.

“To tell a proper story.” I answer. “More than just a sequence of actions, anecdotes are the purest form of the story itself.”

“But I thought characters are at the heart of every great story?”

“They are and anecdotes connect the hearts and minds of those characters to a story.” I try to feign calm but I can see the kitten’s body tensing up. Her eyes, those glorious baby blues, are studying the creature closely. Was I wrong in my decision to trust that she rules her instincts and not the other way around?

“They also add suspense to your story, giving the audience a sense that something is about to happen. If you use them right, you can start raising questions right at the beginning of your story—something that urges your audience to stay with you. By raising a question, you imply that you will provide your audience with the answers. And you can keep doing this as long as you remember to answer all the questions you raise.”

The kitten’s breath becomes rapid and her paws close in around the anecdote and I want to cry out, urge her to stop, but it’s far beyond that point now. She is in control of her own fate. Canines bare themselves, paws pulling the creature closer to her mouth.

“No!” she shakes her head violently. Her ears relax and her mouth closes as her breathing returns to normal. Then, the oddest thing happens…

The Duchess begins to vanish. All the characters look on in a dazed silence, uncertain how to react.

“What is happening to me?” she shoots me a panicked glance as cohesion abandons her form.

“Haven’t you sussed it out yet?”

“No… I’m scared!”

“Don’t be.” I smile. “Look around you. You’re at the heart of a story. You’re free.”

“Truly?” she is suddenly overwhelmed with delight, her expression priceless. “But — but what do I do with the anecdote now?”

“Open your paws, let it fly off.”

She unfolds her paws. Tiny wings beat their path to freedom. Then someone from the back of the crowd gives The Duchess a slow clap. Soon, others join in, building into a tidal wave of applause.

The now translucent Duchess waves a tearful thank you to the crowd, before turning back to me with a request, “Say my name.”

“Why?”

“Because you always simply address me Duchess and I want to hear you call me by my full name one last time before I g– —”

And just like that, she was gone.

I bid you a fond farewell, Your Grace the Duchess of Albion Gwenore del Septima Calvina Hilaria Urbana Felicitus-Jayne Verina y de Fannia. Enjoy your journey. You will be missed.

Sally forth and be writeful.

©2013 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

Creative Commons License

Stories Are the Creatures That Forage in the Wilderness of Our Minds

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

“Stories are the creatures that forage in the wilderness of our minds. Their claws pierce our curiosity, digging in deep to prevent our escape, as they force us into their maw, past razor sharp teeth of conflict.” —- Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

“Tell me a story.” the woman said, book opened to a blank page on her lap, graphite stick firmly in hand and at the ready. The reading chair in which she sat was, what appeared to my eyes, nothing more than a series of interwoven vines that had grown from the lush green carpet in the center of the room. This indoor library of hers smelled of petrichor, the scent of rain on dry earth, which would explain the moisture that dotted the spines of the books stacked in chaotic fashion on the recessed shelves lining the walls.

“I — I don’t have any stories.” I shifted uncomfortably in a small puddle on the carpet—that was most assuredly grass—as the woman took in the sum of me.

“Nonsense, everyone has stories, some more interesting than others, but they are stories nonetheless.” she said, gesturing with a nod for me to sit. “Everything is present for a story to exist: a teller, that would be you, and an audience, which would be me.”

My seat—a normal metal folding chair with padding—was as much out of place with the room’s décor as I. A reminder, no doubt, that although invited, I was still considered an interloper. The fact that the chair was bone dry despite the moist surroundings was of small consolation. I squirmed until I found the position that afforded the least amount of discomfort and said, “All right, then… I don’t know how to tell a story.”

“Ah, a different matter altogether.” she said, placing the book and graphite aside. “The act of storytelling is as old as the creative spark that burns within us all. And though truly great storytellers are born, those lacking the unique gift may still acquire the skill.”

1. Keep it simple.

“The first thing to bear in mind is if you have the choice between a complicated or simple telling, choose the simple approach. As marvelous as the brain may be, it can become overwhelmed if it attempts to process too much information at one time.”

2. Open big.

“Next, you mustn’t be afraid to grab your audience by the balls!” the woman smiled, amused by my unease. “And never apologize for doing so. You’re familiar with the saying, ‘you only get one chance to make a first impression,’ aren’t you? The same applies to your story. You need to carefully craft your opening line to grab your audience’s attention immediately, and represent the promise of your story by displaying a unique voice and perspective.

“There is no going soft here. Your opening line should possess the elements that make up the story as a whole, told in a distinctive voice, a point of view, a rudimentary plot and some hint of characterization. By the end of the first paragraph, your audience should know the setting and conflict… unless there is a particular reason to withhold this information.”

3. Be mindful of your story’s spine.

“Stories are the creatures that forage in the wilderness of our minds. Their claws pierce our curiosity, digging in deep to prevent our escape, as they force us into their maw, past razor sharp teeth of conflict. But despite outward appearances, these beasts are only as strong as their spine.

“Your duty is to support that spine by arranging your content in a logical order and supporting it with anecdotes that raise questions to keep up interest and moments of reflection to show your story’s appeal. We, as the audience, need a reason to care.

“And lop off the vestigial appendages of tangents where you find them. Going too far astray will only lose your audience’s attention.”

4. Don’t alienate your audience.

“Some subjects require a delicate touch. You’ll know them by their appearance and the uneasy feeling they leave in your gut. By no means avoid them if they’re integral to your story, but instead find the best way to craft the tale so that you draw your audience in before revealing sensitive details. Invest them in the story before you shock them and then give them time to digest it.”

5. End strong.

“Whether you end your story on an upbeat note, allow your audience to fill in the blanks, come full circle with your lead, close with a relevant quote, provide a brief summary, or wrap things up with either a surprise or anecdotal ending… you need to come strong. Elevate your story’s effectiveness with a great ending and leave them with a lasting impression. The yang to your ‘first impression’ yin.

“You should also give your audience the proper space to appreciate your ending. A mere sentence or two in which you take a step back and let the story meaning steep in their mind.

And finally, allow your audience to hear the door click shut behind them, signifying that the story is well and truly over. Everything’s done and dusted. Thank you for visiting my world, now it’s time to return to your own.”

“Got all that?” she asked. I nodded that I understood.

“Good,” the woman rested the tip of the graphite stick on the book leaf, “now tell me a story.”

Click.

Sally forth and be writeful.

©2013 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

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Passage Through the Graveyard of Earthworms

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

dead-worms-in-ohio

My monotony needed twisting today, so I went for a stroll, sans iPod. You know, breathe in a bit of city fresh air, clear some cobwebs, that sort of deal.

There I was walking down the street, mind-sifting through character conversations and scene settings, when I looked down at the pavement and realized that I was traipsing through what looked like the aftermath of the Great Worm War of 2013. The sidewalk was a battlefield littered with the corpses of thousands of earthworms that coated an entire city block.

Logically I knew how this could have happened. I knew they came to the surface either during the heavy rains–but it’s been dry weather for the past week–or to pair off and mate only to get caught on things that are hard for them to crawl across, like sidewalks and subsequently fry on the surface from sun rays–but that normally occurs during spring.

So, what then? Had there actually been a battle? Warring clans pitched against one another over territorial disputes? Factions in conflict over the claiming of a throne? Families locked in a deadly dispute over an unholy union?

Or was it a warning?

As I stood there, staring at their dried remains, curled into runic shapes, I wondered if they had been somehow gifted with a vision of the approaching apocalypse and had sacrificed themselves in an effort to warn us in the only language they knew. The last Germanic language spoken to them by man before the two species went their separate ways.

In that moment I felt like Indiana Jones in the passageway to the Grail chamber, trying to decipher the worm cadavers’ possible portents of doom, only without the aid of a diary or Sean Connery whispering something about, “Only the penitent man will pass.” or like John Nash without an ounce of the mental code breaking ability.

And I stood there. Longer than I’m comfortable admitting. Frustrated by the limits of my linguistics. Finally, I forced myself to move on, but not before making a promise:

No more outdoor strolls without my iPod.

Sally forth and be writeful.

©2013 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

Creative Commons License

Screw the Fear and Write On

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

“Screw the fear.” — Jo Leigh

Be it anxiety over acceptance, concerns about misrepresentation, or indecisiveness on whether to delete or send out your latest labor of love and pain, fear has a nasty way of creeping into the writing process, and if you can use it to your advantage by allowing it to heighten your awareness and commit to the page the precise thoughts and ideas that need to be expressed, so much the better. It’s when fear snaps shut like a bear trap on your mind and prohibits you from pushing the pen on paper that’s the problem.

I would tell you to forget the fear, but we both know sometimes that just isn’t an actionable solution. The best I can manage is to share with you what works for me: I simply acknowledge it. I tip my hat to fear, slog through the uncertainty and self-doubt that it carries in abundance, and I write. To myself. For myself. I write without thought of sharing it with anyone, without the intention of submitting it for publication. Since the act I engage in is so personal and integral to my understanding the world around me, I refuse to let fear have any say in what or how I write. I write what I feel must be written. No one else has to agree. Because if I don’t write my mind, my view of the world perishes when I no longer exist.

It’s my marker. My proof I was here.

But, should you choose not to heed me advice, perhaps you’ll listen to those talented few, listed below, who are graced with a turn of phrase that far surpasses my own.

Sally forth and be fear ignoringly writeful.

— Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

1. “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ― Maya Angelou

2. “Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.” ― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own

3. “You never have to change anything you got up in the middle of the night to write.” ― Saul Bellow

4. “Tomorrow may be hell, but today was a good writing day, and on the good writing days nothing else matters.” ― Neil Gaiman

5. “A word after a word after a word is power.” — Margaret Atwood

6. “Start writing, no matter what. The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on.” ― Louis L’Amour

7. “Let me live, love and say it well in good sentences.” — Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

8. “One of the few things I know about writing is this: Spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time. Do not hoard what seems good for a later place in the book, or for another book, give it, give it all, give it now.” — Annie Dillard

9. “The role of a writer is not to say what we can all say, but what we are unable to say.” — Anaïs Nin

10. “The scariest moment is always just before you start. After that, things can only get better.” — Stephen King, On Writing