Friday, December 9, 2011

#FlashFriday #Fictioneers "Who Needs It?"


I have to admit, this week's photo prompt by Madison Woods was a challenge! But, here goes:

Who Needs It?


     Don't know what I said to tick Marylou off. Maybe I pinched her love handles too hard. Maybe it's that time of month. These days, seems like it's "that time" more than it's not.
     Alls I know is, just as I was thinking, "Women!" she started in on me like she could read my mind.
     "Yeah, I'm a woman," she cried. "W-O-M-A-N. And I'm dang tired of doing it all. Tired of bringing home the bacon and frying it up in a pan." Then, she left, slamming the door behind her.
     Heck. I can cook bacon too. And who needs a pan, anyways?


Thanks for jump starting my brain this morning, Madison. Now, I'm hungry. I think I'll go fry myself some bacon. Think I'll use a pan, however.


Feel free to post a link to your blog with your comments!

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

An Interview with Author, M.G. Miller

Unsettled bliss. That's how I would describe the return of Mike Miller to the Northwest Arkansas Writers Workshop. Bliss, because listening to Mike read is like listening to an accomplished musician. Unsettled, because his skillful writing takes the reader to dark places--you know, the ones you want to turn away from, but can't?


I've enjoyed getting to know Mike over the last several months, and recently read his book, Bayou Jesus. Here's the review I posted on Amazon:


Since the release of the book and movie, The Help, there has been much discussion of whether or not a writer can capture the voice of a character outside of his race or gender. M.G. Miller answers that question in his book Bayou Jesus. His portrayal of Miss Zassy, Frank, Jolene and Alice -- each outside of his gender and/or race -- is gripping, not only in the dialect he writes, but also in the internalization of thoughts and feelings. But then, aren't so many of our thoughts and feelings universal, regardless of gender or race?

Bayou Jesus is a provocative and insightful read. I highly recommend it.


I think you'll enjoy getting to know Mike, too:


1) Your book, Bayou Jesus, is full of wonderful prose that brings your characters and settings to life. Excerpt:
       Gleaming faces filled the hall, all smiles, brows damp, the women with paper fans to cut the air: hot, moist, sliced through with excitement. Wooden benches lined the walls, children dodged between the colorful billows of skirts, around long trouser legs. Food lay heaped on three tables at the far end: red beans and rice, shrimp, fried chicken and pork, rolls of fresh-baked bread, desserts. Nearby, a band had set up: two banjos, scrub-board, a fiddle and a drum. Music was a spirituality in itself; it pulled out one’s soul so that it might dance free of the bonds of earth, it brought one closer to God. And this night seemed made for rejoicing.

This is a skill that develops over time. What first influenced you to write, and how have you developed your writing skills?

Thank you, Jan.  It was the love of books to begin with that influenced me to start writing.  I’ve always been rather a loner, and even as a child I preferred the solitude of my own room.  We didn’t have the internet or video games in those days, all I had were books and records...and puppets.  Strange phase, but ultimately the seed of utilizing creativity to entertain myself, because I’d tell stories through the puppets, and eventually I wrote them down.

In Junior High, I read my first adult novel, Harold Robbins’ A Stone for Danny Fisher, and knew I wanted to write like that too.  It’s still one of my favorites.  So at the age of twelve, I wrote my first novel.  Of course it was horrible, so I wrote another one, and yet another.  At this writing, I’ve now begun novel number 21.

But it was only through joining a writer’s group in the 90s that I really began to hone my skills.  I took what I wanted from the suggestions offered (constructive criticism that didn’t interfere with the voice of the story) and that’s when I really got a grasp on editing and tightening.  For instance, when I completed Bayou Jesus, it was a meandering 1,000 page manuscript.  I cut it in half, then cut that in half, and continued to edit until it was a virtual machine, with no sentence wasted.

Edit.  Period.  It’s the only way.

2) Would you share something brand new with us? Write the opening paragraph to a book that begins:

            It must have had something to do with Daisy.

            I don’t usually write on the fly, but here goes nothing:

            It must have had something to do with Daisy.  Everyone in Danfield knew she’d been carrying on with Oscar Highsmith for at least a year.  And Oscar a married man.  Even his wife, Della, had to have known.  Although Della traveled a lot for her realtor’s job, which gave Oscar and Daisy ample opportunity for their trysts, she simply had to have known what was going on between them.  A woman can’t be married to a man for twenty-five years and just not know.  But on the day Daisy packed her bags and bought a bus ticket to Memphis, no one in Danfield had yet to lay eyes on Oscar.  His tobacco shop never opened, he didn’t stop in Gloria’s diner for his usual toast and fried eggs; in fact, he’d apparently never even left the house, for the morning paper still lay on the front stoop of the Highsmith’s modest brick home.  Yes, it had to have something to do with Daisy, because a mere hour after the Memphis-bound Greyhound rumbled from the Danfield depot, Della returned home from three days at a realtor’s convention in Little Rock and noticed the morning paper, too.  She thought it odd.  That’s when she unlocked the door of their modest brick home and discovered all the lights were still turned on too, which was odder still.  When she noticed an overturned chair.  A broken glass.  A pair of rusty scissors.  And something staining the stairwell carpet.  Something that resembled a human ear.

3) Recently, you said you’d found your home in the Southern Gothic genre. Wikipedia defines the genre as:

The southern Gothic style is one that employs the use of macabre, ironic events to examine the values of the American south.

Indeed, some of your most powerful writing is dark, macabre. Would you mind if I ask about the seeds of such passages?

I’ve always been at home in the Southern Gothic genre, whether I realized it or not.  Before, I’d always dilineated my works into Literary Fiction, Horror, True Crime, and Experimental.  It was only recently, however, when I discovered the importance of branding oneself that I realized all of my work could, indeed, be considered Southern Gothic because of the settings, the grotesque characters and the macabre events that take place.  But why Southern people and places?  That falls under “write what you know”.


As for the dark side, I’ve always been an avid horror reader because I love how the genre gets your blood pumping.  I guess you could say that in terms of books, I’m rather an adrenaline junkie.  However, I’ve always preferred more realistic, “quiet horror”; i.e., the horror of everyday occurrences with ordinary people, and not particularly of a supernatural nature.  In my opinion, Flannery O’Connor, Shirley Jackson and Joyce Carol Oates are the best of examples of “everyday horrors”.
  
4) If you were to teach a creative writing class, what would you try to communicate to your students?

            Write.
            Find your voice.
            Edit.
            Never fall in love with your words.
            Grow a thick skin.
            Leave your ego at the door.
            Persist.
            Never believe anything until the check has cleared the bank.
            Don’t quit your day job.

5) Recently, you commented on my blog, “What Is Your Life Sentence”:

            He took a licking, but kept on ticking . . .then wrote about it.

That was one of my favorite comments. But it made me wonder. When I consider writing about events where I “took a licking,” fear often prevents me from finishing the story, sometimes prevents me from even beginning. Sometimes the fear is of what others may think of me. Sometimes the fear is of offending someone still living. Sometimes the fear is that it simply won’t matter to anyone else. Do you have those kinds of fears, and how have you overcome them?

You can’t worry about what others will think of you or you’ll never get anything written.  And if you do write with your internal editor turned on, you’ll compromise the integrity of the work.  Let the work speak for itself.  I guess I’m fortunate in that I’ve never worried what people will think of me as a person as reflected by my written work.  If people get offended, it’s their problem, not mine.  I just point them to the front matter of the book where it says, “This is a work of fiction.”  Over the course of the years, I’ve put a lot of unsavory characters and events on the page, but does that mean that I’m:  a racist?  a murderer?  a junkie?  a practitioner of the black arts?  Hardly.  All it means is that I’m fascinated by the human condition and that I’ve attempted to try and convey ordinary people coping with extraordinary circumstances.

6) Thank you for helping us get to know you and your writing, Mike. What’s next for M.G. Miller?

December 25th will see the reissue of Bayou Jesus from Southern Exposures Press.  It will be available exclusively as a Kindle ebook through Amazon.com.  Sometime after the first of the year, SEP, in association with Grand Bayou Entertainment, will also release the audio version, although an exact date has not yet been announced.

2012 will also see the reissue of Her Grave Embrace, an historical horror novel, as well as Murderous, a novelization of a true crime.  Seven Devils is in the pipeline, too, a literary sequel to Bayou Jesus.  My current work in progress, The Serpent, is also based on a true crime; I hope to have it finished by the end of next year.  As of this writing, the likelihood of releasing audio versions of all my titles seems imminent as well.

Thank you for inviting me over to chat, Jan.  Now if you’ll give me another cup of coffee, I might tell you why Daisy cut off Oscar Highsmith’s ear.


Thanks, Mike! I'll definitely accept your invitation to another cup of coffee and can hardly wait to learn more about the mystery of Daisy and Oscar!


Leave a comment by noon Wednesday, December 21, to be included in a drawing for an autographed copy of Bayou Jesus!


Visit M.G. Miller at his website:
http://www.mgmillerbooks.com/
Or his blog:
http://mgmillerbooks.wordpress.com/
On Twitter:
@m_g_miller
On Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/MG-Miller/165654790177878

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Telling Tuesdays 12/6/11


Telling Tuesday. Reminiscent of those days in school when I looked forward to seeing what everyone brought to show and inspired by an article on WriteToDone.com, called "How to Show (Not Tell): A Writing Lesson from John LeCarre."

It is one of the best articles I've seen on the rule all writers know--show, don't tell--because it doesn't just tell us how not to tell, it shows us some of LeCarre's very own examples.

" . . . descriptions can set the scene, convey the inexpressible, and turn the reader into a witness, instead of remaining a mere bystander." -- Mary Jaksch, author of the article

Each week, I'll give a "telling" prompt, and invite you to show us, to make us a witness, not a mere bystander.

This week's prompt came to mind when I watched the first snowflakes of the season fall yesterday morning:

It was snowing.


I'll go first. This is an excerpt from my manuscript, Broken Dolls. In this scene, on the anniversary of her father's death, 10-year old Sachi has been running from something all day, trying to keep a thought from coming to consciousness. Here's part of that scene:



She started to run, as if she could escape the thought. But it was too strong this time. There was nothing to drive it away. It burst into her mind, full force. She stopped. Breathless.
If you hadn’t begged Papa to take you to the park that day, he might still be alive.

Tears burned her eyes. It was her fault. She covered her face with her hands, hoping darkness would hide her from the bitter realization. It didn’t. There was no escape from the flood of emotion. The dam had burst.
Mama had warned them—told them it wasn’t a good idea to go to the park that day. Papa had probably agreed, but he took Sachi anyway.
It was her fault.
If she hadn’t dragged Papa there, those boys wouldn’t have found him. And if Mama and Nobu blamed those boys, surely they blamed her, too. It all happened because of her. Her fault.
 I’m sorry, Papa.
Something cold tingled on her hands, trickled down her collar. She took her hands from her face and opened her eyes.
White flakes drifted all around her. Landed on her eyelashes. Her nose. Her tongue.
Falling, falling.
Softly.
Gracefully.
Unbelievably quiet.
     Snow! Her first snow.


Your turn! I'm watching and waiting to experience your snow scene.

Monday, December 5, 2011

Morrill's Monday Morning Mashup - 12/5/11

Welcome to Monday morning! This week's mashup will test your resolve. I started and ended with positive blogs, but the meat (gamey as it may be) is in the two posts on slush piles. I dare you to chew through them. Then, be sure to follow Chuck Sambuchino's blog. Better yet, come meet him at this year's Story Weavers Conference!

Ready? Here we go . . .

I like lists. They are easy and quick to scan over, and as I tick off items on the list, I feel like I’ve accomplished something. Here’s a list of books of interest to writers. When I reviewed this list, I felt a sense of accomplishment that I’ve already read a few—Bird by Bird, Writing Down the Bones. I’m looking forward to reading several of the others.





Many writers are in the querying process and have received the kick-in-the-gut rejection letter. Admittedly, this post will not do much to make you feel better about a rejection, but it will clarify the many reasons for rejection. Yes, the list makes the odds of being accepted by an agent sound insurmountable, but at least after reading this post, you'll know just how “wowerful” we have to be. http://agentcarlywatters.wordpress.com/2011/11/28/why-agents-take-on-less-than-1-of-all-queries/



I’m afraid this is another distressing, but necessary blog post. Though cynical in tone, guest editor and former slush reader, Ruth Harris, provides us with a bird’s eye view of what it feels like to go through a slush pile, and therefore teaches us what NOT to do. Still, she reminds us that great writers have risen, even from the bottom of stack and stacks and stacks of manuscripts. http://annerallen.blogspot.com/2011/11/confessions-of-big-six-editor-triumph.html



This blog by Chuck Sambuchino is one of my favorites. He regularly posts information on new agents, which is an invaluable resource to writers who are trying to obtain representation. As Sambuchino says, “Newer agents are golden opportunities for new writers, because they’re likely building their client lists.” And here's some big and exciting news: Chuck Sambuchino will be presenting at the Oklahoma Writers Federation (OWFI) 2012 Story Weavers Conference May 3-5 in Oklahoma City!

I end this mashup with Chuck Sambuchino's blog so that you won't be discouraged. When I was querying agents, upon receiving a rejection--once I regained my composure--the first place I visited was Chuck's blog or his book, Guide to Literary Agents. From one of those sources, I'd pick two more agents and send out two queries for every rejection I received. But, I found my agent, Kathleen Anderson, when I shepherded and pitched to her at the 2011 OWFI conference. You see from the posts above how difficult it can be to get out of the slush pile--another great reason to attend the OWFI 2012 Story Weavers conference!




New York Times Best Selling author, Jodi Thomas, taught me that triumph comes through perseverance. As you can see by the above posts, without perseverance, you are likely to remain squashed at the bottom of stacks and stacks and stacks and stacks of manuscripts.

So persevere!!

Friday, December 2, 2011

#FlashFriday #Fictioneers "Leaving Little World"

I especially liked the photo prompt by Madison Woods this week, because it reminded me of a dream I had once. It came at a time when I was so afraid to make a decision, I compared it to jumping from a cliff. In my dream, I finally decided to jump, believing it was my only choice. At first, I fell, but only for a moment. Then, I grew wings. And flew.

The next day, I made the decision, and I've never regretted it.


Leaving Little World

Mama didn’t tell her to stay put this time. How long had she been gone, anyway? And her sister? Her brother?
She was hungry. Alone.
She stared into Big World. Bright sunshine. Big.
All she’d ever known was Little World. Cozy. Warm. But . . .
She was hungry.  Alone.
She stood on the perch, her heart pounding as loud as the clap of thunder from The Storm that almost destroyed Little World in the spring. There was only one thing to do, because . . .
She was hungry. Alone.
She jumped.
Flapping!
Falling!
Flapping!
Until . . . she flew.