Tag Archives: writing fiction

The Magic in the World

Instead of writing my movie review, I’ve been sitting here watching episode after episode of Fool Us, a British show where various British magicians try and fool Penn and Teller with their magic tricks. It’s just forty-five minutes of magicians trying their hardest and I can’t stop watching it.

I have a fascination with magic shows that can best be explained by why I also love found film horror movies: I love the idea of trying to convince your audience that the world they live in is not all that it appears to be.

It’s one of those things that constantly gets ahold of me. The idea of being able to forgot for a second that there is no magic and accept what your eyes are showing you, that’s a powerful thing to me.

I keep having ideas of how to accomplish it, but it’s a little harder than just writing a story. You have to dress the stage and make sure that there are no seams where the flats don’t mesh together perfectly.

I doubt I’ll ever do it, but I do have some ideas.

One or two.

-D-

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Filed under Thinking and Pondering: Science, History, Analysis and Over-Think

Necessary Excess

Stephen King recommended that after writing the first draft of your story, you should then cut out at least 10% during the initial editing process. This is to deal with the word bloat issues that most writers have. Usually, folks have a tendency to write way more than is necessary; too much dialog, too much description, just too many words.

Luckily for me, I don’t have this problem. No matter what my problems are as a writer, you’ll never hear someone say my stories are too long. Instead, everything I write reads like its been stricken with anemia. If I describe a character to you, you’ll know his or her gender and that’s about it. Want to know if he’s tall or ugly or robust or misshapen and horrible? Too bad! Use your imagination and fill in the blanks yourself, I’m busy moving onto the next thing.

Interested in the backstory behind that shadowy mysterious figure? Suck it. Backstory is for pansies. We’ve got frontstory to deal with and I don’t have time for explaining the whys and hows of things. The story needs to get told and it needs to get told in under 3,000 words. Anything else and I’m asleep.

Unfortunately, not everyone shares my beliefs with regard to how a story should be told (as quickly as humanly possible). I need to learn how to embellish and elaborate on my tales of horror and do so without just vomiting up superlative, excessive, redundant and purple prose.

This is long enough.

Dylan Charles

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Filed under Writing: Novels, Stories, Blogs and Comics

A Noir: In Three Parts

Part 1: Introduction

Our hero stands not so tall above the grime and grit of the City. He wallows in the gutterstench and he has a grease slick smile that spreads like spilled oil. His words burn spark and inflame the coming conflict. More than anything, it’s his ability to rub everyone the wrong way that opens up the case.

He moves in slow spirals toward the abyss, circling passed the bottle blonde with the pouting lips and the hair’s breadth dagger, passed the two-timing hood with the half-bent nose and absent heart, passed the reclusive old man who buries his dirty secrets in the City’s darkest chasms.

Down the detective moves, into darkness, where only the sound of his heart can be heard.

Part 2: The Conflict

It starts as a heartbeat’s slow thud rhythm. A steady punctuation mark, an ellipses between actions…waiting. Then a noise. Cloth rustling.

The beat speeds up.

Then another rapping. Footsteps tapping on concrete floor, hard shoes that run for cover, ringing out staccatto beats. Stutter step, a missed beat here, quick step slide. A beat with no rhythm now. Missed breath, catch in chest, ratta-tat-tat, quick, duck, down, low.

Silence.

Explosion of noise. Orange flame, dark night, sparks of light. Here, here, here. Flash and bang. Quick shots. Duck, roll, drop, spin. Violent percussion, cacophony. No beat.

Just noise.

Then the scream…the wail….break and silence looms.

Part Three: The End

A long whispered sigh begins to count out the evils that lead to this moment; to this point where the detective stands over the villain. A quiet thrum of dialog that explains everything. The gradual spilling of truth in a room heavy with copper smells and acrid smoke. The dead keep silent in the wings while all is revealed and they find out why they had to die.

An unfolding explanation that brings resolution to the reader and leaves the detective nothing but a mouthfull of ashes and a longing for the bottle.

Dylan Charles

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Filed under Experimenting