Category: writing

‘The House of the Spirits’

On By Malcolm R. CampbellIn writing

“When I start I am in a total limbo. I don’t have any idea where the story is going or what is going to happen or why I am writing it. I only know that—in a way that I can’t even understand at the time—I am connected to the story. I have chosen that story because it was important to me in the past or it will be in the future.” – Isabel Allende

I am re-reading The House of the Spirits for the first time since it came out in English in 1985, most likely from the copy I read then. Allende is one of my favorite writers (perhaps above all others) because the stories she tells resonate with me as does the fact she begins each of her books–and I’ve read most of them–without knowing where the story is going. The House of the Spirits didn’t disappoint me in the mid-1980s, and yet, I was afraid to go back to it for fear the most perfect novel would have become imperfect over time like a first lover you don’t dare meet again after both of you have grown up.

I can’t imagine knowing where a story is going when I start writing it and fear that if I did, I wouldn’t be able to write it, or that if I wrote it anyway it would be less true. As I re-read this magical realism novel, I’m not disappointed the second time out and I feel inspired now as I did over thirty years ago; I see again that the story unfolded as it had to unfold because it was (and is) all of a piece that existed in and of itself before Allende wrote the first line: “Barrabus came to us by sea.”

“I think that the stories choose me,” she has said.

When I chanced across author Mark David Gerson’s book The Voice of the Muse in 2008, I was surprised to find a book for writers that acknowledged the truth that stories exist untold until we find them and/or until they find us. As I wrote in my Amazon review of his book, “Gerson believes stories pre-exist, waiting hidden away in dreams to come alive. But while I’ve worked more or less as a blacksmith hammering them into this world, he provides ways to tune into the ‘muse stream’ whereupon life flows onto the page like a warm sweet river.”

I suspect Allende knows this to be true. Otherwise, she couldn’t have written this:

He could hardly guess that the solemn, cubic, dense, pompous house, which sat like a hat amidst its green and geometric surroundings, would end up full of protuberances and incrustations, of twisted staircases that led to empty spaces, of turrets, or small windows and could not be opened, doors hanging in midair, crooked hallways, and portholes that linked the living quarters so that people could communicate during the siesta, all of which were Clara’s inspiration.

I’m relieved to discover that I’m still in love with this novel and that life might have been better if I hadn’t stayed away from it for so many years.

—Malcolm

My stories come upon me out of nowhere and that’s for the best.

Septic Tank Service Day

On By Malcolm R. CampbellIn Life in general, writing

The Soylent Green Company truck stopped by the house today and pumped out the septic tank. The first house on this lot had a privy. A year before we built our house on the land where my wife’s grandparents had their house (long gone), the county changed its rules about septic tanks. Previously, a simple perc test was all it took to get approved for a septic tank. But then progress came along and septic tank systems had to meet stricter requirements and that cost a lot more money.

My comment when we found this out late in the home building game was, “So there are 80 cattle doing their business on the other side of the fence without any restrictions, and you guys are worried about the two humans inside the house?”

Apparently so. There’s not a lot of money in the nigh soil business these days. We’re more toxic than the birds and the bees and the critters out there in the woods.

So no, I did not take a selfie of myself posing in front of the honey wagon and post it on Facebook or, worse yet, keep it to share with all of you in this post. In fact, I don’t know why I’m writing this post.

That is to say, modern-day job hunters aren’t flocking to the septic tank business in droves. And, a career as a night soil coolie never caught on in this country. Actually, I thought about all this yesterday when I was writing about climbing 8,000-meter peaks where the problem, on Mt.  Everest, for example, is dealing with human waste. It’s out of control, actually.

Short term, we could FedEx that waste to Putin. Long-term, what the hell do we do with it? It goes to waste treatment plants, though I often wonder how much ends up in the river. Or the food trucks on main street. Or gravy.

—Malcolm 

High-altitude dreams

On By Malcolm R. CampbellIn mountains, writing2 Comments
K2 – second-highest mountain

When I was in middle school, I decided I wanted to climb mountains. I was influenced by the fact my father climbed mountains in Colorado while he was in college (something I would do later when I was in college). I was also influenced by the books in our house about early mountaineers’ attempts in the Himalayas (including Mt. Everest) and the Karakoram (including K2) mountain ranges. I never knew for sure whether my father had these books because climbing quests made exciting reading or because he often hoped to climb those peaks himself.

Then, in 1953, when newspapers told the story of the first successful climb of Mt. Everest by Edmund Hillary (New Zealand) and Tenzing Norgay (Nepal), I was sold on the idea that such climbs were possible. K2, which is more difficult, was successfully climbed by an Italian expedition a year later. The family applauded my 14,000-foot peak climbs in Colorado but thought my notions of climbing Everest and K2 were insane. “So what?” I asked.

One of the larger family arguments occurred when I wanted to sign up with a trekking tour group to hike to the Mt. Everest base camp. I admit it was a bit costly (it’s more expensive now!) In part, nobody believed that once I visited the base camp for several weeks I wouldn’t ultimately push for an actual climb later. I probably would have.

For non-climbers, the statistics don’t look good: 14.1% of those who attempt Mt. Everest die on the mountain; 22.9% of those who attempt K2 never come back. But I look on the bright side: more people came back than don’t. Plus, I always said, one isn’t going to die on the mountain unless his/her number is up. If your number’s up, you’ll die some other way–like falling off a stepladder while changing a lightbulb. The family and I didn’t come to a meeting of the minds about the dangers.

Among other things, they weren’t excited about the fact that most of those who die on 8000-meter peaks are still there, impossible to recover. That didn’t excite me either, but it never changed my high-altitude dreams. My family can rest easy now. People my age are no longer allowed to climb Mt. Everest. So now I grieve what might have been and allow the characters in my novels to see the top of the world, a vision that changes everyone who makes a round trip.

—Malcolm

I include high-altitude dreams in my novels “Mountain Song” and “At Sea.”

Sunday potpourri on Saturday

On By Malcolm R. CampbellIn Potpourri, writing
  • My contemporary fantasy The Sun Singer will be free on Kindle from March 27 through March 31. This is a hero’s journey novel set in Glacier National Park.
  • I’m happy to say that after having hormone shots every six months to supplement the radiation treatments I had for prostate cancer several years ago, I’m now done with the shots. The last one was Wednesday. They’re worse than tetanus shots when you get them and provide you with a few days of weird after-effects.
  • When I wrote yesterday’s post about sex scenes, I didn’t have space to mention that some authors have plenty of sex in their novels without writing the scenes. They include a lot of innuendoes but never include the actual encounters. One author I’m thinking of here is Stuart Woods whose output includes his series of Stone Barrington novels. Stone jumps into bed with almost every woman he meets, but we never see it happen. The books are basically crime thrillers.
  • While our drip coffee makers last about 12-18 months, our microwave has lasted at least ten years. Now it’s shutting itself off whenever we cook something on high for 10-15 minutes. So, we ordered a new Hamilton Beach and have it ready to go as soon as our trusty Sharp bites the dust. The appliances my parents bought during, or just after, WWII lasted longer than my parents.  I wish today’s products were just as durable.
  • While working on a short story set in Tallahassee, Florida’s former Smokey Hollow neighborhood, I was surprised to hear from people who said they were born and raised in Tallahassee and had never heard of it. Then it occurred to me that the neighborhood was destroyed by “urban renewal” in the 1960s, possibly before the people commenting online were born. If you live in Tallahassee and want to learn more, I found More Than Just a Place to be a handy reference.
  • I like the idea of authors getting together to support Ukraine, offering their signed work for an online auction that will run from March 19 through April 12. Unfortunately, I heard about it too late to get involved  But what a great idea. I hope the auction raises a lot of money to combat the madness coming out of Russia.

—Malcolm

Keeping your book out of the Bad Sex in Fiction Awards

On By Malcolm R. CampbellIn writing

“My whole practical thesis around the craft of writing a sex scene is this: it is exactly the same as any other scene. Our isolation of sex from other kinds of scenes is not indicative of sex’s difference, but the difference in our relationship to sex. It is our reluctance to name things, the shame we’ve been taught, our fraught compulsion to enact a theater of types. It is indicative of the lack of imagination that centuries of patriarchy and white supremacy has wrought on us.” – Melissa Febos in Body Work: The Radical Power of Personal Narrative

Among other things, Febos thinks sex scenes should advance the plot. Writers tend to forget that everything in their novels and stories is supposed to advance the plot directly or indirectly. If they haven’t forgotten this, they forget it when they try to write a sex scene.

According to NY Book Editors, “When you write sex scenes, it’s gonna get raw. There are arms, legs, emotions, sweat, and nipples. If that made you squirm, you’re not ready.”

Apparently, a lot of aspiring writers aren’t ready.

Febos suggests that writers can unlearn all of their incorrect ideas about sex scenes just as they can unlearn other bad habits (such as writing in passive voice). I like this way of looking at it. The problem is, most of the typical bad habits aspiring writers are fraught with are covered in writing books and (usually) bad sex scenes isn’t in the table of contents.

As a reader, I’ve found that some of the best sex scenes in novels not only advance the plot, but leave you thinking, “Gosh, I didn’t know you could do that.” So, perhaps we should add that good sex scenes should be educational. But don’t take notes: if you do, the next time you’re making love, you don’t want your partner to say, “OMG, we’re doing page 43 in Malcolm R. Campbell’s novel The Gigolo Blues.”

Let’s forget I said that and suggest we’ve gone past the days when all sex scenes are allowed to sound the same (a common joke about sex scenes in romance novels years ago) and write something that could only appear in the story and with the characters a writer’s working on right now. If the scene sounds like something you read on page 43 of any novel, the author has a problem.

The problem might be a long list of inhibitions that are more advanced than, “What if mom reads this.” NY Book Editors says, “Come back after you’ve eaten some nachos, downed a beer, and thrown modesty out of the way.” They do make some good points, though I think they’ll be hard to put into practice without therapy, a lof practice (with sex or writing), or considering some of the deeper reasons why these scenes are a continuing problem.

Febos’ book might be a good place to start. But first, here’s an excerpt with some ideas worth pondering. If the excerpt makes you squirm, you probably need the book–or a good hypnotist.

—Malcolm

Malcolm R. Campbell is the author of the four-book Florida Folk Magic Series. If you want the entire series, you can find it bound together in one Kindle volume at a savings.

Scene Setting in Novels – Part II

On By Malcolm R. CampbellIn writing

In yesterday’s post, I mentioned that “scene setting” remains a popular technique for beginning a story or a novel. According to Janice Hardy, “The opening scene is the first glimpse readers get of the novel. It’s an audition for their time, and provides the critical elements and details they’ll need to understand the story, protagonist, and setting. Some novels open with the story, but others open with a prologue or glimpse of something outside the main characters and time frame.”

The overarching metaphore in my short story “Moonlight and Ghosts” is moonlight, so moonlight was my focus in the story’s opening: “The light of the harvest moon was brilliant all over the Florida Panhandle. It released the shadows from Tallahassee’s hills, found the sandy roads and sawtooth palmetto sheltering blackwater rivers flowing through pine forests and swamps toward the gulf and, farther westward along the barrier islands, that far-reaching light favored the foam on the waves following the incoming tide. Neither lack of diligence nor resolve caused that September 1985 moon to remain blind to the grounds of the old hospital between the rust-stained walls and the barbed wire fence, for the trash trees and wild azalea were unrestrained, swings and slides stood dour and suffocated in the thicket-choked playground, humus and the detritus of long-neglect filled the cracked therapy wading pool, and fallen gutters, and shingles and broken window panes covered the deeply buried dead that had been left behind.” [Copyright © 2019 Malcolm R. Campbell]

One way to add depth to a scene setting opening is through a reference to a scene in a novel, short story, or film. In my case, my opening lines were inspired by the closing lines of the James Joyce novella-length short story “The Dead” which appeared in his 1914 Dubliners collection that focussed on middle class life. I didn’t mention the link in my story, because mentioning it didn’t really fit, and because what I was thinking about was Joyce’s use of a snow metaphore in a story about the dead (which is how my character saw the existence of forgotten people in mental instutions). Here’s Joyce’s closing to “The Dead”:

“Snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.”

Those who recognized the structure of my opening, would understand–as they read the story–my allusion to Joyce’s story and snow metaphor. Those who didn’t recognize it really didn’t lose anything except another piece of information.

My indirect reference to “The Dead” was in no way an attempt to elevate my story to the level attained by Joyce’s story that  T. S. Eliot said was “one of the greatest short stories ever written.”  You can read Joyce’s story here.  John Huston adapted the short story for the screen in his 1987 film starring his daughter Anjelica Huston. The closing lines of Joyce’s story made a very effective voice-over in the film.

I agree with Shmoop’s contention that those lines are among the most famous in 20th century literature. Sparknotes states that “The snowfall itself, like death, is indifferent; it falls on everyone dead and alive, regardless of class and nationality. In this way, death is also the great unifier between past and present, suggesting a broader connection to ‘the wisdom of the ages.'”

I view light, moonlight or other light, the same way: it’s a force that is open to everyone, ghosts or otherwise, though I don’t think the light is indifferent. These thoughts inspired by “The Dead” were on my mind as I wrote “Moonlight and Ghosts,” the opening story in Widely Scattered Ghosts.

—Malcolm

Novel and short story openings: scene-setting

On By Malcolm R. CampbellIn writing1 Comment

“An establishing shot in filmmaking and television production sets up, or establishes, the context for a scene by showing the relationship between its important figures and objects. It is generally a long or extreme-long shot at the beginning of a scene indicating where, and sometimes when, the remainder of the scene takes place.” – Wikipedia

In a novel or a short story, such a beginning is often called “scene setting.” It’s still a popular way to begin a novel or story even though films and TV shows don’t use establishing shots as much as they once did, opting for a quicker move into the story line rather than focusing on location or tone.

Some of the more widely known establishing shots in feature films occur in “Citizen Kane,” “Manhattan,” “The Exorcist,” and “Lawrence of Arabia.” In novels, Moby Dick and A Tale of Two Cities are often cited for their opening scenes. Here’s the scene from “The Exorcist”:

(I read the novel and saw the movie and thought this opening as very effective.)

Sometimes an opening scene in a story or novel or the establishing shot in a film also refers (directly or indirectly) to a scene or setting or style in an earlier movie or book when the tone or location of both works is similar. I apologize for the shameless promotion here, but I used this technique with the scene setting opening of my short story “Moonlight and Ghosts” which appears in the collection Widely Scattered Ghosts.

Here’s my “establishing shot” style opening to that story:

“The light of the harvest moon was brilliant all over the Florida Panhandle. It released the shadows from Tallahassee’s hills, found the sandy roads and sawtooth palmetto sheltering blackwater rivers flowing through pine forests and swamps toward the gulf and, farther westward along the barrier islands, that far-reaching light favored the foam on the waves following the incoming tide. Neither lack of diligence nor resolve caused that September 1985 moon to remain blind to the grounds of the old hospital between the rust-stained walls and the barbed wire fence, for the trash trees and wild azalea were unrestrained, swings and slides stood dour and suffocated in the thicket-choked playground, humus and the detritus of long-neglect filled the cracked therapy wading pool, and fallen gutters, and shingles and broken window panes covered the deeply buried dead that had been left behind.” [Copyright © 2019 by Malcolm R. Campbell]

  • The story takes place on a moonlit night in an abandoned mental hospital where there are real and figurative ghosts.
  • Before closing, the level of care at this hospital declined to the extent that patients there could be considered, figuratively speaking, dead.
  • This story also sets the tone for the short story collection in that both the moonlight and the ghosts are widely scattered.

This opening is closely modelled after the tone and syntax of a famous passage in a famous short story. Since I don’t mention that story or its author in the text, the opening has to work for those who don’t know the connection between this opening and the famous passage. The same would be true if I’d quoted a dramatic or a comedic line from a movie or book: those who know where the line came from, get “something extra” while those who don’t know can still enjoy and understand the line.

In the case of my opening here, those who know what it’s based on will find a deeper level of meaning while those who don’t know will still grok the tone of the first paragraph.

Okay, I’m not going to tell you the short story I used as a model except to say it was written by my favorite author and is a bit old, so it’s probably not read very often these days outside of college Lit courses. If you know what story I used, tell me in the comments. If you don’t know, I’ll tell you in tomorrow’s post.

—Malcolm

Erin go bragh, or else

On By Malcolm R. CampbellIn happy holidays, writing

If you know what’s good for you, you’re celebrating St. Patrick’s day and saying Erin go bragh  (yes that’s the correct saying) which means “Ireland to the end of time.”

According to the all-knowing and quasi divine Internet, that phrase was first heard during the “Irish Rebellion of 1798 when a group of Irish rebels staged an uprising to protest British rule.” It didn’t work out. Nonetheless, as you know, I’ll always side with anyone trying to break free of British rule, so I can be counted on to raise a glass or two of Knappogue Castle 12 Year Single Malt to celebrate the man who converted the Irish to Christrianity. Seriously, why did he do that? Their old-time Celtic beliefs were just fine.

Okay, we won’t worry about the details except to say that today we support the Irish with or without the saint or the U.K.

—Malcolm

P.S. Sorry, Ireland,  but I wore my green shirt yesterday. Oops.

За Україну (for Ukraine)

On By Malcolm R. CampbellIn war, writing

Я читав, що американці не воювали б так, як ви воювали, якби на нас напали, як на вас.

Ви надихаєте нас і соромите нас, тому що ми не втручалися. Ми надіслали зброю та припаси, і ми чули, що вони були корисними. Якщо наша відправка допомогла, то ми можемо спати вночі.

Ми погано спимо. Образи з щоденних новин про смерть і руйнування в Україні переслідують наші мрії. Деякі з нас мріють, що ми бачимо жах на власні очі, тому що саме так ми повинні бачити його – а не на телебаченні, як ніби ваша боротьба – це фільм.

Можливо, ваша сміливість одного дня надихне нас знайти власну мужність, щоб врятувати себе, якщо до цього трапиться, і врятувати інших, які просять нашої допомоги. Сьогодні ми відпочиваємо в цілості й здоров’ї в наших домівках, далеко від звуків бомб, танків, ракет та останніх слів загиблих. Завтра, можливо, ми схаменуємося і відповімо на ваш дзвінок.

Поки не настане завтрашній день, ви перебуваєте в наших думках і на нашій совісті. Мені шкода, що ми не робимо більше, коли наші боги говорять нам, що ми повинні робити більше.

Ми любимо вас більше, ніж дозволяє наша влада.

—Malcolm

Translation:

I have read that Americans would not fight as you have fought if we were attacked as you were attacked.

You inspire us and you shame us because we did not intervene. We sent weapons and supplies, and we hear that those were helpful. If our shipment helped, then we can sleep at night.

We are not sleeping well. Images from the daily news of death and destruction in Ukraine haunt our dreams. Some of us dream we are seeing the horror first hand because that is how we should be seeing it–not on television as though your struggles are a movie.

Perhaps your courage will one day inspire us to find our own courage to save ourselves if it should come to that, and to save others who ask for our help. Today we rest safe and sound in our homes that are far away from the sounds of bombs and tanks and missiles and the last words of the dead. Tomorrow, perhaps, we will come to our senses and answer your call.

Until that tomorrow arrives, you reside heavily within our thoughts and upon our consciences. I am sorry we are not doing more when our gods are telling us we should be doing more.

We love you more than our government will allow.