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I name thee…..
I have always wondered how do writers name their characters. But I think that it has to do with another question. Are writers really creating the story? or telling the story?
And I think that, that subtle difference is what is so amazing about people that write for a living. When you are creating a story, it just feels so hard (at least to me) because I feel like it’s so difficult, like the charachters are just looking at you and judging you. I’m being judge by my own characters, and they are looking back at me with disappointment.
That’s the part then, that makes me believe that is about telling the story, and not force it out of yourself, if is a true story. When I was telling the story in my previous post about Premise Vs Story. The names Matt and Jon, I didn’t create them, this characters, this son with an ailing father, and this childhood friend told me their names. It was a revelation for me, because I have always fought, what to name him, always wondered. But on Wednesday, when I was just letting the words come to me, his name also came.
This has now let me to believe, that the whole story is there, in my head, buried among all the crap my brain has gathered. Now the time has come to see if I can tell you a story, and if you want to listen to it.
Influences…part 1 of ?
In my first post I talked about how I never really liked reading til after college. In fact in middle school I wouldn’t read the assigned books, I would just hear what my classmates would say, and then use that as the base for the story. In high school I would get out of reading books, don’t ask me how, I don’t remember. I guess my school wasn’t big in reading. Parallel to my school life, this is when I actually started reading, but never school books.
I was fairly smart, so I would be able to do well in the rest of the class and other classes, that I would just remember the discussions and answers, and teachers didn’t ask me for deeper analysis, since I gave them the answer they gave the day before. Quickly realized that MY teachers (can’t speak for all teachers) weren’t really interested in listening to my ideas, if they didn’t match what they already lined up for their ideas. I think it was this thinking the reason why I didn’t like reading, what was the point? of it? if you never got to talk about your ideas, but tell the ones they want to hear? I remember reading a few books actually, 3 books actually, and excerpts of a 4th one. 2 of them I remember, and the 4th one I want to read the whole book, not only the excerpts. So I guess I did read some, but it was like pulling hair out of my nose. Specially because I would read this other books, that seemed that much more interesting.
Of the three books I read for school, the one that made an impression on me was by far: “Flowers for Algernon” I loved the story and it was the first time I cry while watching/reading something. I didn’t realize of the power that a story can bring you to tears. It was also the first novel I read in English. Like I said, English is not my native tongue, though the one I have assimilated best by now. Even my thoughts are in English now.
Even with the impact of this novel, I wouldn’t really grab books for a few more years. Don’t even ask me how I survive college without reading. I guess I was a writer before I even knew it, because all the bullshit I wrote and try to pass as my understandings of this novels was amazing. Would like to get my hands in some of those tests now to see what the hell did I say that it was good enough to pass the class. In all fairness my major was in Business, so not a lot of reading (book reading that is) was expected beyond my freshman year.
So what changed? When did I started liking reading? That parallel life of hating school books but looking for some outside of school? Of course I’m a guy, and as a young guy, there was nothing better than the destruction of the world. So I would rent movies about death and killing. But one of them I REALLY liked. It was a mini-series “The Stand” written by Stephen King, and produce for ABC. I didn’t see it on T.V. Didn’t even know what “ABC” was at the time. But I rented it latter on when it was on video and with subtitles.
Liked it so much, a story about a virus spreading quickly and deathly, and the survivors would be divided into two camps? Good vs. Evil? God, Devil? that’s just what the doctor order for me!!!! I knew about Stephen King, but didn’t know a lot about his writing. Like I said reading wasn’t a big priority at this point in my life.
But my brother purchase a translated copy of “The Stand”. The first book I read without really putting it down. And after that I was just hooked. I tried finding another of his book, translated, because at this point my English wasn’t bad, but far from perfect, and reading a full novel in English it just seemed daunting.
“The Stand” was followed by “The Dead Zone” and I knew I have found something I really liked. Now this is the mid-90’s, so this books are at least 10 years old. But then luck is on my side, and Stephen King (my mind is rusty about the details, so take it with a grain of salt) is challenged about pushing himself to write a story in six installments from scratch to finish and publish as it comes out, with only like a 2 month turnaround. He starts writing and publishing “The Green Mile” and is being translated almost simultaneously!!!
So I’m able to read his current stuff now, in time, as he’s producing it. So I buy the first two installments, but when the third one comes out, is only in English, my version is sold out! I buy it in English, and read it, I surprise myself how much I’m able to pick up in English, when the fourth one comes out, I buy the translated version because this time it wasn’t sold out. But that’s when I first realize, that, while the story doesn’t change with the translation, there’s something missing anyway. Not fault of the translator, I think is just some sould is missing, that is there in English. So I finished the 5th and 6th part in English. Even since then I try to read the book in it’s original language. Kind of hard when I don’t know any Japanese and I like Haruki Murakami. Murakami almost deserves his own post at some point.
Back to King though, while his theme and not all his novels are hit with me. I fell in love with his afterwords, in them he would explain some of the writing process he went through each book. Because I started reading so late in my life, I don’t read in order of his writing, I might read one of his new stuff, read other authors and then come back to an older book. So one of the last book I read from him when it came out was “Under the Dome” the book overall is just OK, not his greatest writing, but in the afterword he mentions how a version of this book idea has been with him for almost 30 years.
Some time later I’m reading “Cujo” and in it he’s talking about conversations with his editor, and how he’s going to be characterized as a “Horror” writer and if he’s OK with that title of horror writer. He said he really didn’t mind, and being in the company of Poe, is an honor in itself. But the part that caught my attention is, that as he’s writing about “Cujo” he has this idea that almost 30 years later DID become “Under the Dome”. Is like you traveled in time. He also talks about a horrible book he wrote with a character named Blaze, he would also release that book under his pseudonym Richard Bachman “Blaze“.
Get to the point fucker, I’m getting bored here. – Ok, ok, well, obviously sometimes stories need time to fester and mature, and I guess that’s what I’m hoping I’ve been doing during this time that I have been thinking about writing but never really done it. But I’m trying to change that, and this is why you are reading this. Is never to late to start writing. Like I said, I’m not expecting to write “The Divine Comedy”. For one I’m not an Italian poet, nor have I experienced the many levels of hell. But I can write about my stupid observations in current life, and hopefully put my spin on things.
I thought I would write more, I can actually, but I’ll stop here for the moment, give you a moment til tomorrow when I write who knows what. I think that if there’s something that this week is showing me, is that I can write, is not polish by any means and it still needs structure help, but I have the vocabulary and the mindset to keep writing. And if you keep reading, well that’s just my cherry being popped. 🙂
Thanks.
-RM
Premises vs Story
Everyone has an idea, of what would be a good book. But they don’t follow up through with them. I’m one of those people. And even my premises seem lame. If that’s something to be proud of. But let’s see how much we can extract from as little information as we have. And see where does that takes us.
An old friend stops by his former best friend once he’s back in town….unannounced. (This is my premise)
That’s the original line I had at one time. But then you need to start asking questions to know who this people are. And I’ll tell you how far I took this idea (not far).
They are young, early 20’s. 21, or 22. Senior year of college, or recently graduated. This is the dialogue scene I have had in my mind since I came up with this idea, I’ll try to write (finally asshole, I’ve been reading now for 2 WHOLE days!) this scene and see what else (you know, besides, plot, character development, turning point, resolution, etc.) is needed to make this specific scene work.
This is my resemblance of a story, read at your own peril:
Jon has had a long day, taking care of his dad, has been specially difficult this last few months. Pops is not the man he once knew anymore. Trying to get this haunting thoughts of his mind, he surfs through the channels looking for a distraction, til he turns off the T.V. Whatever it is he’s looking for, is not playing right now. Flips the remote into the couch, before remembering to pick it up and put it back on the table. Easy access for his dad to find. Funny how is this little changes, the ones no one would notice that proves to himself, that he’s maturing. In a different era he would be already old, and with a family, hell, even in some cultures he’s already behind the eight ball. This thoughts follow him through the kitchen. He doesn’t have any answers, just more questions. Walking around his house helps push thoughts away, however the moment he stops, they catch up to him, This monkey is fast. He Thinks.
He tries walking past his parents bedroom, but thinks better of it, he checks on his Pops. Door is ajar, and he sneaks his head through the gap, he will always feel guilty walking into his parents bedroom, age be damned. Surveys the bed, nightstand, a clock that marks 4:42pm, the burrow til he finds him. Watching out the window.
“Hey Pops, how are you?” No response. His body follows the head into the bedroom, stepping a little harder, trying to call the attention of his father. No response. Clears throat. No response. Finally he calls again: “POPS!” a little harder than he intended, for a moment he thought it wouldn’t be enough. Dad turns around, he’s been watching out the window, lost in his own thoughts, is it?
“Hey Jon.” Words come out slowly, not quite a question, not quite a statement. Jon can’t help but think at least someone is in the house today. He mentally kicks himself, so much for maturity. “Pops, how are you?” he repeats.
“I’m good Jon, just watching for birds I thought I saw a cardinal today.”
“That’s nice. Just wanted to let you know I’m in the house, been here a while actually. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
“I’m fine son.” This time a little more alive, he even adds an old smile that breaks Jon’s heart. Haven’t seen one in a while. It’s a good day afterall.
********
Downstairs is just a never finished basement. An ongoing built, that even in better days, it wasn’t going to be finish. His bedroom really, without a formal bed, he has spent so much time down here, even the couch has the indentations to prove it. Black cushions on metal, with very little padding, a killer for your back, yet, is the most comfortable place there is.
He turns on the mp3 cradle, speakers roar to life, deafening loud, 311 is playing, it’s been a while since he’s been down here. He lowers the volume, the music goes through him, an oldie song but still very much so a goodie. Jon’s thoughts are drowned by the music, a very welcomed relief. The song jumps randomly to the next track. Something newer, Mumford? No, no, no, that’s Deertick. Time past as the tunes flow. One after the other, greatest hits of his life or even before his life. His musical taste exceeded his age, and like his father said: “A classic knows no boundary”.
By the time Journey comes he’s singing loud, the speakers are back to their original setting, this time without a bother in his ears. Some dance moves are encouraged, and the body replies back with movement. He’s lost in this moment, his problems cease to exist, by the time he’s singing about streetlights all inhibitions are lost.
“Nice moves Beyonce.” A voice breaks through the ending of the song.
Jon can’t quite place the origin of the voice, he let out a yell, and instinctively grab the closest thing he could use as a weapon. A pillow. Fuck! He searches frantically for the voice, and he notices a shape by the stairs. It takes him a moment to place the face with a name. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Matt?”
“Ah-hu” the voice replies back.
“Oh you, son of a bitch. You scare me!”
“Not as much as you scare me with those moves.”
“How long you’ve been there?”
“Enough to not sleep tonight after that display of UNcoordinated twitching.”
Jon flips the finger to his old friend.
“When you got back?”
“Just tonight, I came here to see you. Heard the music coming from down here, so I knew you were down here. I wanted to say hello to your dad, but couldn’t find him.”
“Well, is good seeing your ugly face ar…wait, Pops wasn’t upstairs?”
“No, why?”
“Fuck. Help me find him. He’s not doing well lately.” Moving quicker to the stairs, padding his friend in the back, as a hello as he climbs.
“What’s the matter with him?”
By then Jon is at the top of the stairs. “Let’s find him first, I’ll tell you.”
Matt looks confused, but follows his friend.
End of Chapter.
So, this is as far as I have thought about this story. This time actually, putting it down on paper help give it a little more shape, is not a finish product by any means, and in fact, might never be. But I guess that’s what makes it interesting for me. I have always wondered why Matt (just gave the name today) has come back. He hasn’t been in town in at least 4 years. I don’t know why he left either.
Another thing I have come to notice about my stories, at least the one from yesterday and today, is that, there’s no Mom figure in either one. Guess Freud might have a field day with that one, but is not done on purpose, that much I can assure you.
So, I guess this is how you build a story, you ask questions, and you try to find the answers. What’s wrong with Jon’s dad? Depression? Alcoholism? Does it matter to the overall of the story?
As far as Matt is concerned, like I said, I don’t know why he come back, but I know he didn’t go to college, or if he did, he didn’t finish. I know he smokes weed, so did Jon, but he also has experimented with other drugs. So I think that’s part of the reason for his comeback. Where is the rest of their respective families? Why come to Jon?
Another day of blogging, and all I give you are more questions. If you want the answers, well, good luck, because I don’t know them. That’s why this post is about premises. Is just an idea put in paper (or blog) form. The story is what follows and a good storyteller will be able to follow through those doors. Can I cross that door frame? We’ll know soon.
Thanks for reading. Comments are encouraged.
What are my stories about….
Today I wanted to talk about some of the ideas that have died in my head. Not sure if I’ll ever go back to this premises, that’s all they really are, they don’t even have a story, so that would be way to big of a word to say.
I have two premises, and I think that, that’s the kind of story that I would like to write about, but, just because I want to, doesn’t mean is going to make it a successful idea. But again, that’s why I’m here in a free blog website, and I’m just a simpleton.
The first premise, and I think that, this is how a story grows from this premise, is the idea of this father. As of right now, I don’t know much about him, I know he lives comfortably, in a nice house, he works in a white collar job, he owns a Mercedes-type car, and he knows art. He was married, now, the thing is, that’s all I know, I think his wife doesn’t live with him. At least that’s not the vibe I’m getting from him. I also don’t know if she’s not living with him, because they are separated, divorced, or widowed…..or just on vacation. But I don’t feel is the latter, if I had to guess right now, I would say widowed.
I think that, because I know he has full custody of his child, a little girl, about 8, or 9. The girl is cute, and very bright for her age, looks up to her father. In her mind her father can’t do no wrong. The love is mutual in this relationship. I can’t tell the values her father holds outside his house. But inside they are impeccable. He can’t live without her.
My premise to this story is just of a father that comes home to his daughter, but she’s not there. Did she run away? Was she kidnapped? My personal guess. But then, that brings up the question, why? why now? Is he as clean-cut as he looks? what does he hides behind that facade? Is it mistaken identity?
Can’t really tell you much more than that. That’s as far as I always took that story. Just always liked that premise of coming home to an empty house. Of him sweating, and seeing stains in his perfectly ironed shirt. Trying to backtrack his life’s decisions to try to find his daughter. The only(?) person that sees him as a perfect image and he doesn’t want to shatter that from her.
As you can tell, I have no idea what I’m writing, or where I’m taking this premises, but I think that will be the part I’m trying to show you (me?).
Tomorrow I’ll give you another premise to a different story. The real story will start on November 1st. And if you think I already something pre-written and I’m just going to paste it, thanks if you think I that I think that far ahead, but my parents and friends would be laughing at that notion. Since I do so little planning, I scare myself how I made it this far. The reality is, like I have said, I have had this ideas in my head, but with exceptions of some blurbs, I haven’t written much. I might post these blurbs sometime in the future if I think they are valuable in that they are so badly written, you might take them as examples of things not to do.
Who am I?
Welcome to my home!
I don’t have a pen name, so for the time being, just know my initials RM. Maybe I’ll use a pen name to keep some sense of privacy, or eventually I will let you know who I am. So I guess, that should be my first post about.
I’m a 30 something average guy. Average problems, average life. In fact, I thought of naming this website something along the lines of Average You, or Just Another Person. But I think we all need a little sense that we are more than that. We are special to a group of people, or at least to someone. We want a level of validation that we matter, right? If not, then why are we here?
So, why are we here? Why should you be interested in my blog? – Well, I don’t have a compelling reason, except that I always wanted to write. And that’s where it gets interesting. Because I know I don’t want to write a thousand books like Dean Koontz or create a fantasy world a la Tolkien. I know my limitations, and I know that’s not what I want to write. I just want to believe that I can write a few a stories and that a few people will like them. What genre? Well I don’t know. Short stories or novels? I don’t know. Contemporary times or past? I don’t know.
What the fuck do you know then? -I don’t know, that’s why I named it, Don’t Follow My Lead. I have never taken a writing course. In fact, English is not even my native tongue. I have been in the U.S. for a while now though. And growing up, I didn’t like reading. It wasn’t until AFTER college that my interest in reading started growing. I’ve always been more of a movie, or music lover. As I started reading, couldn’t help but feel that certain stories where taking shape in my head. Certain scenarios I would see them play out, and at first I thought they should be maybe a movie, after all that’s my first love.
But I noticed that, the level of detail and emotion of these scenes went a little deeper than what a film can capture. They were more complex, and I started saving these scenes in my head. And I would try to write them down, but not much has come up from them. In fact I have forgotten some of them before they ended in paper. And that’s where I guess is the crux of the matter for me. Maybe my stories won’t hold the interest of every person that reads them. Hell, as much as I love certain of my authors, I know they are not love by everyone, and they make a living out of this! So, again, is not that you should read this stories or that they’ll be beacons of your life. But hopefully, just hopefully they’ll brighten your day enough for you to come back.
Does that mean you are going to give me a story per day? – NO! Are you fucking insane? you know how much time that would take? I still have to do my day to day work and pay my bills. But I have good friends, that always push me to be better and to follow up on my ideas. I have a supportive girlfriend too, that wants me to succeed and is also a writer, that actually has been publish.
So a good friend of mine, who also aspire to be a writer herself, put my attention towards this site: www.nanowrimo.org. The National Novel Writing Month, in it, you will be part of a network of people that want to write too, and for the 30 days and 30 nights of November you are expected to write, and write until you have a very, very rough draft of something that kind of looks like a novel.
Since I’ve never taken a writing class, and all I have to follow is my own guidance, then I decided to do it in blog form. That way I can write at my heart content, and see the pitfalls I’ll have to drag myself out of. For the last few weeks, and as November draws nearer I’ve been thinking on what exactly what I want to do with this blog, is not finished by any means, and if you want to add your 2 cents I’ll listen (can’t guarantee I’ll follow though).
I’ll be posting my ideas for my stories, I have one, that I have a pretty good idea on how it goes, I just don’t see any of the finer details, that actually make a story a novel, and I’m hoping that through this process I can unraveled this gumbo of words and make something that resembles a readable tell.
Wish me luck as I embark on this journey, and who knows, maybe you’ll be the CO (Commanding Officer) in my tell, and see if I can sail this baby….or hit an iceberg.
Don't Follow My Lead 