Notes

At the 2010 World Fantasy Convention, I spoke with Howard Andrew Jones, and he showed me a small notebook he carried around with him that he used to record his thoughts. I assumed these were writing ideas or the megalomaniacal musings he’s prone to (those who know him can back me up on that), but I didn’t actually read through it.


A short time later, I decided it was time to invest in a notebook of my own. And I already had one on hand that my wife had given me as a gift. It’s a hand-sewn, leather-bound cover with a leather strap to tie it closed. On the inside, it has pockets on the left and the right so that I can slide the covers of a notebook within. But I don’t just use any notebook; I use a notebook of thick, unlined parchment paper with a rustic look to it – not the bleached-white pulp found at a supermarket. I love the way it feels, and it gives my notes more of a fantastical feel, making them twice as good in my mind (okay, not really – but they do look cool).

I record ideas for new stories as well as notes on existing stories. I keep my notebook with me most of the time, so I’m rarely dropping ideas. Not that all ideas lead to stories or that all notes get folded into existing stories. But if a noteworthy thought comes to mind, I’ve got it. I’ve found this to be quite invaluable.

I think what helps is that my notebook is special; it’s not just some piece of paper shoved in my pocket, and I’m not just using some Smartphone app. It’s ink on a page. It demands to be used.

I recommend purchasing something unique to your personality – something you’d find worthy of your ideas. Then try it for a month. See what you jot down. I think you’ll be surprised at how much you’ll record in the notebook and how you can expand a wisp of a thought into something tangible within the moment.

Abyss & Apex

Abyss & Apex accepted one of my science fiction stories for publication!  "And Our Lady Splendor" will appear in the 3rd Quarter Issue, due out in July.

Better Left Unsaid

I’ve played musical instruments for over twenty years, and I learned that while the notes are important, the rests (the moments of silence for your instrument) are equally important. Such omissions are also pertinent in writing.


I don’t mean that there should be large whitespaces between words or scenes. Instead, what I’m referencing are the pieces of narrative and dialog that we purposefully withhold from the reader. Let me provide an example of two pieces of writing and ask which is stronger.

Example 1:
“Hey, Don,” Evan said. “Did you go to the basketball game last night? We used to all go every Wednesday, so I was surprised I didn’t see you there. It was a great game; the home team came from behind to win by three points at the buzzer.”

“Of course not,” Don said. “Jenny used to go to the games, too. Then she broke up with me. After four years together. I still can’t believe she dumped me for Frank.”

“Actually, I saw her there with Frank. They looked pretty happy – holding hands and laughing.”


Example 2:
“Hey, Don,” Evan said. “I didn’t see you at the game last night.”

“Those games just make me think of Jenny,” Don said. “She wasn’t there, was she?”

Evan nodded slowly. “With Frank.”


Personally, I’d rather avoid the info dump in the first example. And I might even like something more elusive than the second example – revealing the relationship with Jenny through subtle hints. And I might give Frank a last name of Khan so that Don can scream it in frustration (yes, I’m kidding).

Besides allowing the reader to think, omission also prevents unnatural dialog. For example, if a story begins with two characters meeting at a football game, they wouldn’t say, “Well, here we are at the game that we planned on attending three weeks ago.” Work those details in, if necessary, through other means. Don’t slap the reader in the face with it: “Here, you need this information!”

Some things are better left unsaid, especially details that can be revealed subtly. Trust your readers. Trust your readers. Trust your readers.