Paragraph of the Week (Part 31)

Or maybe I should call it paragraph of the month at this point! With an increasing work load, it is becoming harder and harder (and more difficult to remember) to post new content. But, I’m not giving up. So, here we go.

So, you asked me to lunch and then to retrieve a mysterious object,” Jacques said, “what else will be on our itinerary for the day?”
John shrugged. “Have to see if we get the key back and if you will actually talk.”
“The key? Oh monsieur, you don’t mean…”
“She always wore it around her neck. It was the only thing left after the fire. I’ve worn it every day since then. You remember it, remember her wearing it, right?”
“Of course, it never left her body.”

Paragraph of the Week (Part 30)

Some of you guys might be wondering if I died. I am sorry to inform you that, no, no I have not died. Yet, anyways. Again, I’m going to try to get out more blog posts, maybe even some…GASP…non-paragraph of the week posts. Until this becomes a reality, enjoy this weeks paragraph of the week. And if you can’t remember the story before this, and I don’t blame you if you can’t, you can always check them out in the archives.

“So, you asked me to lunch and then to retrieve a mysterious object,” Jacques said, “what else will be on our itinerary for the day?”
John shrugged. “Have to see if we get the key back and if you will actually talk.”
“The key? Oh monsieur, you don’t mean…”
“She always wore it around her neck. It was the only thing left after the fire. I’ve worn it every day since then. You remember it, remember her wearing it, right?”
“Of course, it never left her body.”
“I could never figure out why she loved the thing, even she didn’t know. Every time I asked her, she said she couldn’t remember where she had gotten it from, just that she had it ever since she was a little kid. When I doubted her once, she whipped out a picture of when she was four and showed me the thing. And there it was, plastered around her neck.”
“She was a good woman.”
“Too good.” John sighed.
“You know, I’ve never really ——”

Paragraph of the Week (Part 27)

And I thought I would post more…well, that didn’t happen. But it could! But it might not… But it could! If you haven’t guessed already, I kinda feel like this about getting around to posting (when I have the time that is)

Anyways, with that being said, here is the paragraph of the week!

The remodeled interior was a tricking jester, one that kept the attention off the old facade. John had thought they had done a nice job remodeling, but the glass pane doors, new furniture inside and out, kitchen, gym, and lounging area still couldn’t deceive him. He had seen what the building really was, especially when he had first stepped into his apartment. It had been nice, but the outdated appliances, recently painted walls, and half peeled off Radiohead sticker on the air conditioner had shown him that the building had more history than the owners wanted him to know about.

Paragraph of the Week (Part 26)

Well, this story is moving along now! (mostly because I have been putting in more than just a paragraph…) So, here is the next installment!

They turned down one of the side streets and headed to the lake. The buildings varied from luxurious homes, complete with winding staircases, driveways, and statues in the small, gated front yards to heavy, squat apartment buildings worn from years of misuse; almost every structure was ancient and tired looking. One building, a wide and tall structure with a yellowish brick, made John turn his head and stop. He had gone up the stairs to it almost every day for a month, and every time he always felt tricked.

When he had first been looking for an apartment, John had replied to an ad that advertised brand new units. It had seemed too good to be true, and it had been.

NaNoWriMo or in my mind: NoNoWriMo

A writer hating on writing?!? Madness! No, this is just an opinion of someone that has been writing a while and devoted a life to doing so. Never fear, I don’t hate just to hate, but I have valid reasons. Seriously, I do. Stick around and I’ll tell you why I think NaNoWriMo is awful in some ways, and really quite nice in others.

So why, you ask, do I not like NaNoWriMo. Well, let me start off with a list:

1. A book, at least most of them, take time to develop properly. Trying to force one out in a month is giving birth to something premature, and usually, hideous.

2. Writing a book isn’t a race. I don’t think Hemingway ever went around challenging other authors to a ‘who can write a book first’ race. Or maybe he did…but he probably didn’t.

3. Writing a book isn’t just sitting down and slamming out words as fast as possible. It’s a long process. Whether it starts with an outline or an idea, it takes time to develop. Rushing something will only give you, well, number one on the list.

4. The marketplace is already flooded with poor quality books, and quite frankly (yes, I know this comes off as horribly mean), it doesn’t need more self-published books that shift tense every other paragraph and have characters flatter than twenty week old soda.

5. It spawns the idea in people’s heads that, yes they too, can write a great novel and be published. Let me elaborate on this last point.

I’m all for people realizing their dreams and wanting to write. If I wasn’t, well, I would be one hell of a hypocrite. I love to see when people know they need to write, and set off on the long and arduous journey that begins this. NaNoWriMo, however, skips this journey. Many people that don’t have the slightest idea how to start writing, begin to do so and think they have become real authors that can either self publish or start submitting places. Cruel, I know, but first think of this analogy. You get Wii Sports and start playing the tennis. It’s fun! Great! After a couple weeks, you start to think, “Hell, why not just be a pro tennis player. I’m sure I could beat Nadal, just look at how great I am at this game!” Of course, the minute you would try to go play in any pro tournament, you would be laughed at, repeatedly, and rightfully so. A game isn’t going to teach you to play a sport as complicated and intricate as tennis. And neither is sitting down and throwing down some words at break neck speeds going to teach you to be a writer. Learning to write takes years of patience, years of writing, years of reading, years of hard work and pain. Writing a book in a month, however liberating and fun it may be, isn’t going to help you become the next great author.

Even though I have said these horrible things about NaNoWriMo, it’s not entirely bad. As a game, something fun to do, then really it’s fine. Even for an experienced author who already had an idea in mind and wants to write with some motivation, it’s great too. However, when the race against the time starts to impede the writing, then it once again turns into a hindrance.

So treat NaNoWriMo for what it is: a fun (not serious) thing to do.

Paragraph of the Week (Part 24)

As life gets busier and busier, the blog becomes more and more forgotten. But not totally! Not yet anyways… So for this week, another paragraph to a story that I hope the constant readers haven’t completely forgotten about.

They turned down one of the side streets and headed to the lake. The buildings varied from luxurious homes, complete with winding staircases, driveways, and statues in the small, gated front yards to heavy, squat apartment buildings worn from years of misuse; almost every structure was ancient and tired looking. One building, a wide and tall structure with a yellowish brick, made John turn his head and stop. He had gone up the stairs to it almost every day for a month, and every time he always felt tricked.

When he had first been looking for an apartment, John had replied to an ad that advertised brand new units. It had seemed too good to be true, and it had been.

Paragraph of the Week (Part 23)

See? I’m not dead! If you thought I really had perished (or worse yet given up), I’m sorry to disappoint. Weddings, as most of you know, are very time consuming and planning for my own has taken up large chunks of my time. To make up for it, here’s a decent sized chunk for this week’s Paragraph of the Week!

“Come on,” Jacques said, motioning to the meal. “It is pretty good.”
“You never answered my question.”
Jacques smiled. “Let’s just eat in peace.”
“After all these years, that’s all you have to say?”
“There’s a lot I could say, but I don’t believe it is the time for it.”
“Then when will it be the time?”
“Soon.”
John snapped his chopsticks in two. “Fuck that.”
“Monsieur, easy now. Why are you so upset with me?”
“Why? WHY? You ran out after…after…she…” John rested his forehead on his trembling hand. “I just wanted to talk with you.”
“And now we are talking. Just…just be patient. It is all I ask. Nothing is easy these days.”
“Yeah, nothing is easy.”
They ate in silence, staring at the food and the table. When the meal was finished, Jacques threw a twenty down, stood up, and opened the door. John followed him, a gust of cold air lashing his flesh, raising his skin in bumps and pricks.
Jacques stopped just outside, eyes focused on a strobing streetlight trying to blink on. “Is that going to be all for today?”
“Let’s take a walk.”
“Guess we need to catch up on old times, right?”
John nodded and reached for the missing key that should have been around his neck. “That, and I could use some help.”
“With what?”
“Dropped something earlier. It’s a two man operation to get it back, so I’ll need your help.”
“Then lead the way.” Jacques half bowed and flourished his hand.

Paragraph of the Week (22)

For those still following along, here is another paragraph to feast on. Will there be more posts now that my most recent work is complete? Will our hero save the damsel before the train runs her over? Tune in next time to find out!

The waitress, a thin girl with a lace fringed smock, stained with a rainbow of colors, dropped off the orange chicken, a bowl of rice, and two sets of chopsticks. She smiled and went back to talking with her coworker behind the register. Jacques flourished one of the napkins, placing it on his lap and breaking apart the chopsticks. John watched him peck at the rice and chicken.

Paragraph of the Week (21)

And we’re back to our regularly scheduled program. On a quick side note, I believe I said I would make a post about writing a novel and how consuming it becomes. Well, as you can see, my theorem holds true (or I’m just lazy). One of these days I’ll do it. One of these days (and the book is almost done now)…

Well anyways, to make up for the lack of posts, another longer edition of the paragraph of the week. Enjoy!

John watched Jacques tap the board and put in the order. He lingered in the front, staring at the men behind the bar, watching them throw a piece of meat on the flames. It sizzled and cracked, the tiny space filling with the aroma of frying chicken. Jacques turned, coming back to the seat with a grin.
“She said they will bring it out to us in ten minutes,” Jacques said, sitting down across from John.
“Uh huh.”
“I was surprised when you called me today. I didn’t even know you were in town.”
“Don’t know who was more surprised, you or me. Never thought I would call you again, not in a million years. How could I?”
“Easily it seems.” Jacques laughed.
“Funny, it’s all so funny. I wasn’t even sure the number Jones gave me would work, not after you ran like that.”
“I didn’t run.”
“Then where were you all those days after? Why did you leave the force the very next day? I go there, trying to talk to you, and I’m told you left. Then I go to your apartment and it’s vacant. You know what that says to me? It just screams ——”

Paragraph of the Week (20)

Well, it seems we had a short break in the paragraphs of the week. That’s what happens when you get too caught up in writing! And now, a double dose of the paragraph of the week(that will surely make up for my recent absence…).

None of it had made sense at first. Jacques had been John’s old partner on the police force. In the year they had been working together, they had become best friends. After late night patrols, they would have a beer and go back to John’s place, both of them sleeping on the couch while infomercials blared on the TV. It hadn’t taken long for them to do almost everything together. Thinking of their friendship had made him, and even his wife, smile. But that night had changed their lives.

John had doubted everything. John tried to deny it, but the truth was in front of him: Jacques had been sleeping with John’s wife and something had happened between them, maybe pregnancy, maybe a fight, and Jacques had decided it was too much. He had killed her. Or was his mind running away on him again, showing him flames where there were none? John didn’t know, he didn’t know much of anything these days.