The Cozy Catastrophe

We’re familiar with such dark apocalyptic tales as The Road, The Book of Eli, and On the Beach. The world coming to an end or it has been so altered no one really wants to live here anymore.

When I wrote my post-apocalyptic novel series The Rocheport Saga, I was uncomfortable classifying it as post-apocalyptic because it just didn’t seem to fit the genre.

I didn’t have legions of zombies or hideously morphed humans wiping out the last remnants of humanity. Nor did I have the bleakness of Mad Max. And while there are cannibals present in the early books of the Saga, they don’t pose an insurmountable threat. I can’t even honestly lay claim to the dystopian tag, for the Saga is at base optimistic.

The question before me was, how do I classify The Rocheport Saga? It was a question, up until recently, I had no clue as to how to answer.

The other day, cruising around on the web (mostly to avoid editing, which I just can’t stand), I stumbled on a 2009 article in The Guardian entitled “The discreet charms of ‘cozy catastrophe’ fiction”. I couldn’t believe it. I had found my sub-genre! Unknowingly I had written a cozy catastrophe in the great British tradition of H.G. Wells and John Wyndham.

Additional research turned up two more excellent articles: one by Jane Rogers and one by Jo Walton.

So what is a cozy catastrophe? Basically it is a tale where most of the earth’s population is wiped out rather quickly and the survivors don’t dwell on the disaster (which is usually manmade). Instead, they set about trying to rebuild civilization. As one wit noted, cozy catastrophes are similar to cozy mysteries: people meet violent deaths, but there’s always tea and crumpets.

And such is the case with Bill Arthur and his band of intrepid followers. There is the big wipeout and then the survivors are plagued with death from disease, accidents, battles, wild animals, and murder. Yet they overcome the odds and begin rebuilding civilization, a better world than the one that died.

I’m very pleased to have discovered The Rocheport Saga has a home with such classics as The Time Machine, The Day of the Triffids, The Death of Grass, and Childhood’s End; as well as the regrettably short-lived BBC series remake of “Survivors”.

As always, I’d love to read your thoughts on the ‘cozy catastrophe’.

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8 Sentence Sunday on Dieselpunks #16

Today we meet a new character: Rand Hart. He is the main character in a new story I’m writing. My intention for the Eight Sentence Sunday is to simply put out for review and comment successive 8 sentence snippets of the first chapter of the story.

The time is Friday, 6 May 1938. Hart is aboard the Hindenburg, playing poker. He is a professional gambler. For those who know a bit about the Hindenburg, you will have already caught the initial alternative history element: the Hindenburg was destroyed by fire on 6 May 1937.

Without further adieu, here is Rand Hart:

Rand Hart couldn’t imagine what the German’s hand was. He was looking at four jacks. Certainly the possibility existed the fellow had something better, but that possibility was slim. Very slim.

The last round of betting saw the other American fold. Now only Helmut von Osler and he remained at the table. The chips in the center represented over twenty-three thousand dollars. Hart ran through the probability tables in his mind.

To be continued!

If you write or read Dieselpunk, join in the fun: 8 Sentence Sunday on Dieselpunks.

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A Change of Location

Often we get into a rut simply due to routine. Routine can be very, very good and routine can be deadening.

I like routine. Knowing what to expect is comforting. After awhile, though, I find it dulls the creative juices. I’m just  not as sharp on the creative front. The remedy? Break the routine. Give myself a change of location.

Life, like music, occasionally needs a shake to generate interest. In music, one can shake things up by syncopation; where the expected strong beat doesn’t happen – it falls, instead on the weak beat. Syncopation pulls us out of the lulling effect of a regular beat. Rather like a clock going TICK-tock-TICK-tock-tick-TOCK-tick-TOCK.

At the moment, I’m in California. My creative juices, I thought, had been flowing just fine during the long Minnesota winter. Suddenly, however, my change of location, as with syncopation has shaken things up. Suddenly, I find the melody far more interesting.

With a new eye, the creative juices are flowing at flood stage. Ideas are coming like those little maple tree helicopters raining down on the lawn.

So if you’re feeling a bit stagnant, a bit dry, you just might want to change your location. Even a small change, from your study to the deck or patio, just might put things into a whole new perspective; just might syncopate the rhythm for you.

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O Wondrous Machine!

I’ve written of my love for the woodcased pencil and the mechanical pencil. When it comes to writing instruments, for me, these are great loves indeed. But an even greater love is that which I have for the Wondrous Machine, the term Henry Purcell used for the king of instruments, the organ, is the one I use for the king of writing instruments: the fountain pen.

The fountain pen, the Wondrous Machine, was the 19th century’s attempt to make the steel dip pen an easily portable tool.

In the 19th century and earlier, if you wanted to take your pen along on a trip, you didn’t just shove it in your pocket. You packed a traveling writing desk with ink, paper, quills and pen knife, or steel pen and holders. The box was not a small affair either. A Google search gave me two boxes 14x10x5 inches, or 35x25x12 cm. It’s no wonder Anthony Trollope used a pencil when taking the train to work.

And just imagine trying to write with the box on your lap (yes, the first lap desk) and an open bottle of ink. Speaking of disasters waiting to happen!

The history of the reservoir pen goes all the way back to the 10th century. However, none of the early attempts to create a reservoir pen were overly successful due to the messy process of filling the pen, clogs due to sediment containing corrosive inks, and leaking.

In the 1850s, the first fountain pens appeared which had iridium-tipped gold nibs (for durability) and hard rubber bodies (for ease of manufacture). The first free-flowing inks also appeared in the 1850s. By the 1880s, fountain pens were being massed produced. However, they were still very prone to leak and had to be filled with an eyedropper. An often messy instrument with which to try to write.

By 1908, the leakage problem was solved by using a screw-on cap with an inner cap that sealed around the nib. The self-filling pen appeared around 1900. The most popular was Conklin’s crescent-filler (beautiful pens) until W.A. Sheaffer patented the lever-filling mechanism in 1912.

From the 1920s through the 1950s, the fountain pen was king. But we humans are never satisfied. Even the self-filling fountain pen with the safety cap proved to be occasionally messy and would sometimes leak. Then in the 1950s the first viable ballpoint pens were introduced and in the next decade the fountain pen was finally dethroned as king of writing instruments and in the 1970s relegated to a very distant second place.

So why write with something that could be considered as obsolete technology? That is a very good question. I write with a fountain pen for these reasons:

  • A fountain pen works best using a light grip and with light pressure on the nib. Capillary action transfers the ink from the nib point to the paper. A ballpoint pen requires pressure to get the ball rolling, so to speak.
  • Fountain pen ink has superior writing qualities to the petroleum-based paste used in ballpoint pens. Fountain pen ink helps make the entire writing experience a smooth one.
  • The variety of ink colors strains the imagination compared to what is available in ballpoints.
  • I have much less occurrence of tendonitis using a fountain pen than I have using a ballpoint, or even a pencil for that matter.

I prefer vintage fountain pens because by and large their nibs are superior to those on modern pens. My favorite pen is a 90 year old Conklin crescent-filler. The nib is butter smooth and has a slight spring to it which gives an eye-pleasing line variation.

I encourage you to give a fountain pen a try. If you are interested in doing so, check out the Fountain Pen Network. You may also write to me via the comment or contact forms.

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You Have To Work It – Part 2

Last week I wrote about Michael Tamblyn’s Tweets against Amazon’s attempt to secure a better bottom line for itself vis-a-vis the publisher Hachette.

This week I want to focus on what author’s can do to help themselves. My focus will be on Indie Authors, because I’m an Indie Author and I’m sharing things I’ve learned along the way.

My friend, author C. L. Schneider, told me about a fantastic Indie Author co-op, IndieBooksBeSeen, started by Mark Shaw.

There are other groups to help Indie Authors gain visibility, but a number charge money to join or access their services. IndieBooksBeSeen is a cooperative. Indie Authors coming together to support each other and to promote each other’s books. Supporters use the hashtag #indiebooksbeseen on Twitter to signal others to retweet the tweet to their followers.

To my mind, that is the beauty of IndieBooksBeSeen: support and do a good turn for others, who will do a good turn for you.

The indie organizations which charge membership fees to do the same thing are more like clubs or businesses. And for some authors, that may work fine for them. For me, I have limited money and I don’t want to pay for something I don’t have to. Someday, maybe I will. Not today.

Having been actively involved with co-operatives over the years, I find the co-op principle more to my liking. A co-op is a community. And that is what I like about IndieBooksBeSeen. It’s also what I like about co-ops in general. A community of people who help each other and in the process help themselves.

In today’s publishing world, the big publishers, to maximize profits, have dispensed with things such as proofreaders and the slush pile. Agents have taken on some of these roles and writers have to now pay for others. In addition, few agents will take on a new unpublished author unless he or she has a thriving platform from which to promote his or her books. Why? Because advertising dollars go to the established big money authors. Not newbies.

If I have to get my own editor and proofreader, and work out my own advertising campaigns, why do I want to settle for a 10% royalty, from which my agent will take 15% right off the top? Doesn’t make good business sense to me.

This is where networking through a co-op such as IndieBooksBeSeen becomes a boon to the new and even established writer. You get 60% or 70% royalty and the help of your friends to sell your books. The cost? You help them sell theirs. After all, it is what friends are for: companionship and help when needed.

Let me know what you think about networking.

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The Fabulous Mechanical Pencil

A while back, I wrote about my love of the woodcased pencil. Today, I wish to share my love of a wonderful little machine: the mechanical pencil. Or as my friends across the pond might call it, the propelling pencil.

The earliest extant example we have of a mechanical pencil was found on board the wreck of the H.M.S. Pandora, which sank in 1791. And we thought Pandora was only about music.

There are two basic types of mechanical pencils: those that hold and propel the lead forward and those that merely hold the lead.

The simpler of the two is the lead holder or clutch pencil. It is basically a tube that holds a length of lead. The leads for these pencils range from 2mm (which is standard woodcase pencil lead thickness) up to 5.6mm. When I was in high school drafting class, I used a lead holder. We sharpened the lead on a sandpaper pad. One can buy lead pointers, which are like pencil sharpeners. I prefer the sandpaper pad.

I have only one lead holder, but I use it fairly frequently. It’s an old Faber-Castell Locktite 9800 SG. It uses 2mm lead. My favorite lead is the Staedtler 4B Mars Carbon Lead. It puts down a nice black line without a lot of pressure. My second favorite are the Koh-i-Noor 3B or 4B leads.

Next to a woodcased pencil, I like a lead holder. It is ultra simple and one doesn’t have the wood shaving mess.

The propelling lead mechanical pencil is what most folks are familiar with. Their advantage is line uniformity and choice of fine line widths. You can get mechanical pencils in widths from 1mm all the way down to .2mm.

My favorite mechanical pencil is a Reform .5mm, which, sadly to say, is no longer made. I picked up 3 from Pendemonium when they had a bunch of new old stock available for sale some time ago. I’m glad I did. This is what it looks like:

ReformPencil600

The pencil is fairly wide. A small hand probably wouldn’t feel comfortable holding it. My hands aren’t large, yet the pencil just feels right when I hold it. The weight though is not heavy at all. It has the same feel as any other mechanical pencil.

Running a very close second to the Reform is the Pentel Orenz .2mm pencil. To protect the ultra-fine lead from breaking, Pentel created a special lead support system. The lead stays within the extended tube, which has a rounded end. One writes with no lead showing and it works wonderfully. The size is the same as any other standard mechanical pencil on the market. I love the super fine line it produces. I use the B grade lead to get a darker looking line.

When writing my initial draft, I prefer a pencil. I feel when I use a pencil, maybe because the line can be erased, I’m not locked in to what I’ve written. I’m free to change what’s on the page. Using ink, I get the feeling what I wrote is more permanent. Of course nothing is permanent. However, that slight psychological shift either nudges my creativity or hinders it.

For me, composing at the keyboard doesn’t produce my best work. I’m not a fast typist and my fingers can’t keep up with the flow of my thoughts. I’m also not the most accurate and making mistakes disrupts the creative flow. I get too hung up on how it looks on the virtually typed page instead of getting the thoughts on the virtual paper.

Using a pencil, allows my hand to keep up with my thoughts and knowing I’m using a pencil allows me to be messy if I have to in order to get the creative flow on paper. Nothing is set in stone with a pencil. I can change it, improve it, perfect it.

If you have a favorite mechanical pencil, share it with us.

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8 Sentence Sunday on Dieselpunks #9

Today’s snippet is from my Lady Dru WIP. Our intrepid heroine, her companion, Karl, and Mr Hall’s Man Friday have boarded the airship and are waiting for takeoff. They meet the two ancient history professors who are accompanying them. Here is today’s snippet:

Karl and I joined the professors at their table. Franzen had his pipe in hand, unlit.

“Rather uncivilized not being able to smoke,” Franzen said.

“Better that then risking us all burning to death,” Doctor Rodman replied.

“Even with the German advancements in sealants and hydrogen purity, better safe than sorry,” I said.

“I suppose,” Franzen admitted.

“What do you make of the discovery?” Karl asked.

“Of course, we’ve only seen photographs and read a description,” Doctor Rodman said, “but we’re hopeful it is the genuine article.”

If you write or read Dieselpunk, join in the fun: 8 Sentence Sunday on Dieselpunks.

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8 Sentence Sunday on Dieselpunks #5

In today’s snippet, Dru, her friend Dunyasha, and Branson (a member of the expedition) are making their way out of the wooded hills at night to Kutaisi, Georgia. They are armed in the event of trouble and, of course, trouble comes. Our party of three encounter men walking up the road from the opposite direction. The men have lanterns to light their way. Dru and her team take to the shallow ditch along side the road for cover. It’s touch and go if Dru and her companions will be discovered. Here’s the snippet:

… I saw the lanterns were very close and then I sneezed.

In a heart beat, four gun barrels were pointed at me. In the language I know best, English, I said, “I guess you boys found me.”

They said something in Georgian. I started to get up, when Dunyasha yelled, “Down!” The rapid fire  “chu-chu-chu” of the suppressed Sten gun spoke. When the firing stopped, I waited for a moment before i looked up and saw Dunyasha looking at the bodies. Her figure was illumined by the light of the fallen lanterns.

If you write or read Dieselpunk, join in the fun: 8 Sentence Sunday on Dieselpunks.

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Dreams

Where would we be without dreams?  I’m not talking about the kind that wake us up at two in the morning after eating pepperoni pizza.  No, I’m talking about the dreams that embody our desires, our aspirations, our hopes.

Well, today I realized one of mine.  By 8.30 this morning I had received notification four of my books were now live on Amazon.  I can now say I’m a published poet and novelist.  For over fifty years I dreamed of writing novels and of getting them published.  That dream is now a reality.

The, for me, difficult part lies ahead — the marketing!  And that task will be tackled as all the others:  one day at a time.

We live in a truly amazing era.  Just ten years ago the current infrastructure for independent artists was largely non-existent.  The iPad was first released a mere four years ago.  The first iPhone, seven.  And the first Kindle, also only seven years ago.  Those devices and others like them have revolutionized our access to and consumption of art and entertainment.  The current indie movement, in my opinion, couldn’t exist without them.

But also of immense help to the indie artist is the proliferation of WYSIWYG blogging platforms and website builders.  And where would we be without social media, which provides the ability to network on a scale unimagined in the history of humankind and provides us with the opportunity to connect with those who want what we have to offer?

Today is the day you and I no longer have to simply dream dreams and wish.  Today, we can make those dreams real.

Feel free to share a dream or two you’ve realized.  Today is a great day to be alive.

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The Plotless Novel

Ever since I can remember, my one dream was to be a published author.  However, I quickly learned plotting and I don’t get along.  I don’t know if it was a bad experience with diagramming in Mrs. Bloom’s Fifth Grade grammar class or the gene I was apparently born with which shuts my brain down when I see the word “outline”.  Whatever it is, I just can’t plot out a story, poem, novel, series, or even structure the grocery list.

For many years I despaired of ever becoming a writer.  I had moderate success with poetry and I like poetry, but poems aren’t novels.  I wanted to write novels and everywhere I turned, folks talked and wrote about the need to plot.  I was in the Slough of Despond.

Then one of those serendipitous events occurred in the form of the movie “The Remains of the Day”, based on the book of the same title.  I liked the movie and it appeared to have not much, if any, plot.  And what I especially liked was that it seemed to largely be a character study.  For me, when I read, it’s all about the characters.  I don’t care how intricate the plot, if I don’t like the characters the book is set aside.  The lightbulb went off over my head.

I Googled “plotless novels” and to my delight found dozens upon dozens of novels with little plot and dozens upon dozens of authors who write them.  I also found plotless films, especially those of the late Japanese director Yasujiro Ozu.  He was a master at creating intense feelings with a minimum of story.  His characters carried the day.

Suddenly the sun broke through the clouds.  I read Kazuo Ishiguro’s novels “The Remains of the Day” (even better than the movie) and “An Artist of the Floating World” and loved them.  I watched Ozu’s films and was moved deeply.  I also discovered an entire form — the picaresque novel — which is nothing more than a series of vignettes.  The movie “Little Big Man” is a film version of the picaresque novel.

The dam broke and I started writing.  I learned (thanks to my sister) I was a pantser.  And I was okay with flying by the seat of my pants.  Being a pantser has its own unique set of issues.  The main one being not having a clue what is coming next.  But then you just trust your characters to tell their story.

Some will argue there is no such thing as a plotless novel or story.  To make sense, a story has to have a plot.  If there was no plot, the story wouldn’t make any sense.  Even if all the characters do is to go from point A to point B, one has a plot.

I won’t quibble over semantics.  If one looks at “Little Big Man” or “The Remains of the Day”, there is movement.  The progressive story of a man’s life or the taking of a vacation.  But those events aren’t what make the story.  It is the development of Jack Crabb and his life experiences which make the story.  What life has taught him is what is important.  Or that Stevens must come to grips with a changing world and to survive he must change along with it.  His vacation, at the end of the day, is simply a vehicle for him to come to grips with himself.

Perhaps the Plotless Novel should be called the Character Novel, because that is what is important.  It is the character him or herself that is important and constitutes the story.

Whatever we call it, the Plotless Novel has been a godsend for me.  I wouldn’t be writing today without its discovery.

What are your thoughts on reading or writing the plotless novel?

 

 

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