What was the first novel you ever read?

I just got in a couple of books (okay, 14 books but most of them were non-fiction) that I ordered, one from the UK. That one was "The Way to Dusty Death." Written in the 1970's by Alistair MacLean, this was the first novel that I ever read. I was ten at the time and was considered to be a very poor reader. More on that later. . . I read the book in a single sitting. MacLean didn't waste much time or wordage with anything outside the storyline. Compared to his contemporaries, there is no sex and no vulgar language, just non-stop action in faraway places. In short, a safe book for a 10 year-old boy with an active imagination.

The copy that I got, used, from The Orchard Bookstore in London, was in good condition with that mustiness that comes from an older book. A second printing, it had a different cover than the one that I read all those years ago in Australia. Inside the covers, though, it was the same story.

Because it was a UK edition, the language and punctuation were both customized to that country. The language I noted immediately. Using tyres for tires bothers me not in the least and there were a dozen more examples of the differences between English and whatever it is that the blokes in the UK call what we speak.

It took me 30 pages to realize that the punctuation was also different than used in the States. It was little things - using a colon to transition to dialogue, as in:

Dunnet said: 'Well, I suppose we've got to face it sometime.' MacAlpine said: 'I suppose.' Both men rose, nodded to the barman, and left.

And the quotes. In the States, we use the " to indicate speech. If you didn't see it, look at the example above. A single ' for the dialogue.

So I noted it in page 30 (or so) and promptly forgot about it, moving back into the story which, pleasingly, has held up well.

I've reread some of my childhood favorites and not all of them has. E.E. "Doc" Smith's Skylarks of Space series is one that has not translated well into the modern world. Written at the beginning of aviation, the science has become outdated and the characterizations almost Victorian. Some of the presumptions of society, the rich playboy who owns his own biplane and lands where ever he likes is a remnant of a bygone era. I haven't read any of the old Doc Savage novels but I wonder if they don't suffer similarly.

The Way to Dusty Death is set in Europe (still around), features Grand Prix racing (still around), drugs (still around), and a pretty girl (thank goodness they're still around!). Some of the attitudes are old-fashioned but still recognizable unlike Smith's series.

And I find it sad that no one writes books like this anymore, with generally strong story-telling. MacLean didn't spend pages discussing the role of the rear outside stabilizer in a race car and the effects of damage to it a la Clancy who quite literally did spend pages on a new propulsion system in The Hunt for Red October. Not a complaint against Clancy, it's just a different style, one that introduced a whole new sub-genre, the techno-thriller. Nope, MacLean sabotaged the stabilizer, caused the crash, and off we went. Cause, effect. No engineering degree required.

He also didn't go into great detail about a punch. Lee Child has his punches last for paragraphs, from calculation of time to initiate action, consequences, launching the strike, the muscle movement throughout the arm, the moment of impact, the effect of impact, the aftermath of impact . . .

MacLean's version: Johnny Harlow gets hit by a sap.

And again, we move on with the action.

And, for a young boy, one that's not a great reader, action was what I wanted along with heroes. I mentioned I was considered a poor reader at age 10. I was, though I knew the mechanics of reading. Then we moved to Alice Springs, Australia. Interesting point about the Alice at that point in time. There was no TV. None.

Plenty of sunshine and more open desert than a pre-teen had time to explore. It's amazing that none of the kids I hung with ever got bit by a spider or a snake, considering we'd go hunting for them. Or that none of us fell off a cliff rockclimbing -  though Phil Decosta tried once.

But no TV. As a family we played a lot of cards and learned to shoot darts. But those require other people.

Reading doesn't so, against my mother's wishes, I started reading comic books, began devouring them. This was before comics became graphic books. Back then, they were just comics, Sgt. Rock and the Archies and the Green Lantern.

We were in Australia six months when I saw a book, black cover with a silenced gun, that caught my eye. No one told me it was an adult book and beyond my reading level. My mom saw me reading it, nodded, and left me to it. Today, a teacher would take it away and give the kid some pap that he'll toss on the desk and ignore. But that book was my first novel. . .

That book was a turning point. In a very short period of time, I went from not reading to reading 1-2 pulps a day. I wiped out the entire school library, primary and secondary, of the thrillers and sci-fi in a couple of years. Also knocked out the sports stories. Dabbled with Leon Uris and Michener.  Decided that Michener must have been paid by the word and moved on.

I visited the Moons of Barsoom, the jungles with Doc Savage, and wanted to be the Grey Lensman or James Bond. I fought the mafia with Mack Bolan, became the Destroyer with Remo Williams, and visited Rama with Arthur C. Clarke.

I loved books, or more accurately, I loved stories and read voraciously to soak them up.

All because I picked up a book and nobody took it away.

Homework can be fun

What follows is part of a homework assignment from a writing seminar I'm taking. This little piece was fun to write and my girls enjoyed it, too. So . . .I hope you enjoy it as well.

My bangs were way too long but I liked it that way. It hid my eyes.

I could feel my dad looking at me but it was mom who talked non-stop about what a great opportunity it was for Dad and how it would be sooo nice to move to a smaller town where we would have things to do as a family and I could find some friends and once we get there we’ll figure out what I need for graduation since it’s my senior year.

The words drift over me like little bubbles of I don’t care and pop.

I like San Diego. The weather’s perfect and there are plenty of places to go when everybody starts pushing, pushing, pushing, come on, let’s go to the movies or we should try out for, always followed by whatever the cool kids were doing.

I wasn’t a cool kid.

I’m just me, the odd kid that everyone shies away from. Except the other odd kids. We hang together but they wanted to be like the others, blend in.

“You need to eat something.”

My mom is worried I’m anorexic or something. I encourage the worry. I give the edge of the plate a push, move it maybe a half-inch away from me.

“Well, if you’re not going to eat, you can at least sit at the table properly!”

She was using that I can make you voice. I give her the No, you can’t shrug. It’s going to piss her off. Like sitting cross-legged in the chair, all scrunched up with my hair almost resting on the top of the table pisses her off.

It’s my talent.

My dad finally talks.

“I think you’re going to like Idaho.”

No, I’m not. It’s Idaho.  We live in San Diego. No contest.

“We’ll see,” he says like I answered him. He’s a little freaky like that.

I hear him slide back his chair and I tilt my head up just enough that I can see his hands. He picks up my plate with his.

“I’m going to go read news on the computer,” he says. “I’ll wrap her food and put it in the fridge.”

I know he’s talking to her but helllloooo, I’m right here. Don’t talk about me like I’m not here. But I don’t look up, don’t say anything. I’m in my perfect little bubble and I don’t let him into it. Or her.

Or anybody.

He stops on the way to the computer.

“We’re moving to Idaho. How you decide to deal with it is up to you.”

He sounds very reasonable, like he’s doing me a favor, letting me choose how to feel about it. He does this a lot. Mom is easier, she just yells. Sometimes I yell back. It’s cathartic.

And Mrs. Rose thinks I don’t pay attention in BritLit. Cathartic. I like that word.

He’s still standing there, watching me.

I don’t tell him but I decide.

Idaho’s gonna suck.

Victoria's Secret

Just a short note on something that struck my funny bone that I got from Victoria's Secret.

I got a flyer - addressed to Paul Duffau, not my sweetie - from Victoria's Secret. I don't know why unless it has something to do with mentioning the chain in Finishing Kick. Or maybe it's because I write books for young ladies (who run) and have to channel my inner girl when I write.

They were offering a "FREE V-Day Lacy Thong" if I bought a bra.

I decided, based on the models, that the bra would not fit and really, it's not my style. At all.  My sweetie said she never, ever wanted to see me in a thong, either.

Seems reasonable. But it did give me a pretty good chuckle.

Races around Asotin

Time to look at some local races around Asotin. The holidays are over and, if my scale is correct, the damage was minimal - except to the habit of running. Since I have a marathon that I need to be ready for (running, not racing), I need to get it going. The nice thing about marathon training is missing a day won't break you. Trying to do too much, too fast, might. Patience, perseverance, and a good sense of humor will get you to the start line. In the meantime, we have a bunch of local races on the calendar. I'll only probably do two, one as a training run, the other as a benchmark to see where I'm at.

Here are all the races I could find in the area for the late winter/early spring.

Feb. 8 - Sweetheart Run, Lewiston ID - 4 mile run or 2 mile walk, benefits local youth charities.

Feb 15 - Edge of Hell, Lewiston ID - 4 or 8 mile trail run in Hells Gate State Park. Beautiful scenery and one of my favorite areas to run in the Lewis-Clark Valley. If you look across the river, you can see my house.-and most of Asotin.

Feb. 22 - Celebrate Life, Lewiston ID - 7K run, 3K walk, benefits kids with cancer.

Mar. 1 - Snake River Half-marathon, Pullman, WA- 13.1 miles of running beside the Snake River, sponsored by the Palouse Road Runners. No traffic and a course elevation chart that looks like this: ________________. If you run it, I'll be at the 4 miles aid station cheering you on. The rest of the Asotin cross country team will be there along with Coach Tim Gundy, manning the 4 and 6 mile stations.

Mar. 15 - St. Patrick's Day 5/10K, Clarkston WA - Your choice of distance on a fast course. You have to wait for the holiday itself for the green beer.

Mar 21/22 - Snake River Triathlon, Lewiston ID, The swim is Friday, the evening before the ride/run. Check the website for details. The race is put on by Lewis-Clark State College's Cross Country program. Mike Collins, the coach, does a great job of organizing the event and it is chip-timed.

Mar 22 - Hells Canyon Adventure Run and Ultra, Idaho - A self-supported run of either 15 or 28 miles depending on which version you choose. 100 percent on trails in Hells Canyon. This is the one on my list as a training run.

Mar 30 - WSU 100K Relay/Solo, Pullman WA - Got some friends? Grab them, put together a team and have some fun with a relay. If you don't have friends crazy enough to join you, you can always run it as an Ultra. I heard a rumor that since this is the 25 Anniversary, the Palouse Road Runners are planning  25 percent weather. We'll see how that goes.

Apr. 5 -  Mike Jensen Memorial 5K, Lewiston ID -  Another charity run, this time for grieving children.

Apr. 18 - Twilight 5K, Lewiston ID - Another of Coach Collins events, it's a fast, flat course on the levee. This will be my "where-am-I-at?" race as I get ready for the marathon in Colorado.

Apr. 26 - Seaport River Run, Clarkston WA - I'd put up a link but the City of Lewiston hasn't posted it yet that I can find.

Apr. 26 - St. John Hog Jog, St John WA - I haven't done this one and maybe it's time I headed up. 2 and 5 mile options in one of my favorite little towns. Also the chief competitors for Asotin Cross Country girls and really nice kids.

So that gets us into later spring. Pick a couple and have some fun.

Nice Mention at the Book Designer

The cover for Finishing Kick got a nice mention at the Book Designer blog run by guru Joel Friedlander. A nice win for the designer, Kit Foster of the UK.

JF: Very effective, with lovely typography.

If you're interested in books, how they get put together, and what compels a reader to pick up a particular book, Joel has hundreds of articles to satisfy that itch.

NaNoWriMo

Below is a letter that I wrote about National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) which is every November, during the last such occasion. Lost in the blitz of 50,000 words in one month (very doable!) was a point that bothered the hell out of me. When in doubt, seek out a wise woman . . . Sorry to trouble you with an email rather than post to the comments of your NaNoWriMo post but didn’t think that the comments I had fit the discussion. Fast background – I’m a new writer, in my 50’s, male, far less than a million words of crap written. I don’t have time for a million words of crap.

I put words to paper before I learned any craft-and that I’m learning from books, James Scott Bell and Dwight Swain and James Gardiner. Just reread/listened to Steven King’s On Writing.  Despite the presence of two colleges and two universities, there do not appear to be craft classes in my region. The writers that I do meet (often during the day job) are engage in a fanatical pursuit of literary recognition.

I’m not.

I started writing fiction because I couldn’t go for a run without a scene building in my head that would bring tears to my eyes and my run to a halt. So I attempted to exorcise the beast by writing a prologue-and it made people cry. And the beast fed on it, so last year about this time, I sat down and started pouring it onto paper and, in June, had a novel. I fixed my more egregious errors and handed it to family and a pair of 13 year-old girls that I help coach during cross country season.

Family cheered, cried, and declared it good. In the family of one beta reader, it caused a fight. I’ve coached all four girls, and the youngest was the one that had the book. The others swiped it, read ahead, talked about plot and characters and funny bits; tears ensued and rules were set up so that Carmen could finish first.

All of which is great validation but scares the crap out of me.

I know my craft isn’t solid. I stand in amazement of truly gifted writers and respect both the genius and the dedication it takes. I’ve taken several of Dean’s classes, primarily those orientated towards the business side to be able to bring a product to market that exceeds standards. My goal, stated to my cover designer, is to put out a product that is as good, or better, than what the Big 5 consider acceptable.

One of my jokes is that I’m an ultrarunner because my primary skill is being too dumb to quit. It works for writing as well. The day job helps, too. I get called an idiot often enough that it no longer raises a hackle. In both, I know how to improve.

In writing, I’m trapped between worlds. The number of good classes out there seems to be in inverse proportion to the ever-expanding number of offerings. The higher status workshops will never take me – not only do I lack the requisite MFA, but I lack even the university pedigree. The workshops that promise skills often too often seem intent on teaching the skill of wisely selecting courses that will cost the least in lost lucre and time. They are, however, profitable to run as are ventures such as Author Solutions.

You and Dean have some courses that I’ll be taking as does David Farland. After that, it seems a bit thin. I generally rule out anything promoted or heavily influenced by agents.

In the meantime, I am running out of books that seem worthwhile. Some seem downright awful. Most by literary writers are neurotic as hell which gets a little tedious. The blogs are worse.

After that, where does someone stuck (willingly) in the middle of nowhere go for training. I don’t need a pat on the back – I have long arms, I can do that myself. I need someone honest enough to kick me in the teeth and point out what I must do better to be a successful writer.

I don’t count success as a best-seller or in money though I’ll take both if they come along. My books are landing in the valleys situated between the genres. Either they’ll become highly successful niche books or they’ll disappear soundlessly.

My ego is such that I expect the former. I know you caution – as does Dean – against expectations too high. But I’m defining success my way, and, if I land in that perfect space where people yearn for a literature about them, I’ll sell a book or two.

I want my readers to feel what I feel. I’m not asking for riches or recognition, I just want the girls (most will be girls, which is ironic to this middle-aged man) to lose themselves in a world that was created for them, that’s authentic to them, and be inspired.

And the early readers are saying that they are, even if they don’t know it. One of them, at the District meet referenced my main character, saying she was “going to pull a Callie.” More high praise. . . and I cringe

Because my craft isn’t good enough, not yet and these girls deserve better than I can give them now.

So where do you go to learn how to create a memory? Not plot. Not setting, not any of the parts of the story. How do you learn to create something that will give them a memory that they can use now and twenty years from now?

How do you touch them and show them their own beauty?

Running Quote of the Week

I'll see how many of these I can track down. Here is the redoubtable Dr. George Sheehan. I highly recommend his books, especially Dr. Sheehan on Running. It's not a book on how to run faster or longer or even better. It's a book on why we run, what moves and touches us to be runners.

"It's very hard in the beginning to understand that the whole idea is not to beat the other runners. Eventually you learn that the competition is against the little voice inside you that wants you to quit." - George Sheehan

If you are a sales person, I would suggest listening to Blair Singer (or reading the book but I like the CD I have) and his Little Voice Mastery Systems Audio CD.

Is it a New Year?

Okay, it's time to layout a few goals for the New Year. I came into 2013 with three writing goals- first, to become a writer, then become a professional writer, and after that, a paid professional writer. I managed all three though I set a very low bar for the last item. I made enough that I could afford more than a single cup of coffee at Starbucks and counted that as a win. Along the way, I racked up nearly 200,000 words of writing between two books, a couple of short stories, and the blogging. The finished novel, Finishing Kick, is up for sale at all the major online places in print and electronic formats.

I also had a goal of shrinking the business by twenty percent. Missed that one badly and basically didn't downsize it at all.

I had no running goals. I couldn't run at the beginning of the year and this was possibly my most painful year since I was about seven. The meds the doc put me on for the gout triggered a non-stop 6 month attack with a brief respite when she pulled me off the pills for a month, worried about liver and kidney damage.

Turns out that neither was a problem and, when she put me back on the pills, the worst of the attacks had passed. By June, I could run a mile and a half and, by year end, ten. None fast but that's okay.

Now for this year's goals.

Writing, 200,000 new words, which is about 4,000 per week. That will give me at least two more novels or a passel of short stories. Blogging and Facebook don't count. Publish two more pieces of work and list them for sale. Start (hopefully finish) a novel in a new genre. Get one review from a notable in the running field for one of the books.  - good or bad.

Work. Still trying to downsize.

Running. A trail marathon with a friend. A trail run along the Snake River in Hells Canyon that I've wanted to do and not managed to schedule. And maybe, if everything goes well, a small ultra run. Mostly because I miss it. The Seven Devils call . . .