Ever-Learning, Writing Onward

Attending writers’ conferences is interesting for many reasons, the most obvious ones include learning craft and huddling in comradery. At each conference, I intentionally attend a workshop or two which have nothing to do with my genre or current writing needs. (That said, I do, however, read a number of books to keep up on craft, marketing, etc.) Last month I spent two hours at a conference learning about podcasting. I’m still letting that new information mellow in my mind, trying to decide how to work it into my writing plan. There is much potential there.

Take a leap sideways: I also am part of a writing group on GoodReads (Writers 750), where participants write a short story which include certain elements along with a setting or theme. Although four of my stories have gone into anthologies, none were written in my current genre.

Take another leap: Once I spent two full days learning how to trap and skin a rabbit. After taking what I’d learned, then writing it out over several pages to my own understanding, that research boiled down to two published sentences in one of my books.

Why should I learn new things (only to have them mellow in my mind) or write short stories (which are not in my genre)? Why, I ask? To learn. To grow. To never be stagnant.

What have you learned this month, or have needed a nudge (like this post) to get you indulged in learning that something new? Making wine, perhaps? Spelunking? Learning an instrument or new language?

Learn. Grow. Write.

 

  

Find my books here:

http://www.bookswelove.com/authors/carlson-sandy-young-adult/

Meeting a Fan by Victoria Chatham

I was at an event recently where I met a lady who had read all of my books. More to the point, she enjoyed each of them. To hear that was music to my ears and I was very happy to engage in conversation with her.

What I invariably find is that people who do not write are amazed at the amount of work that is involved in writing a book. My new fan thought I must be an experienced sailor to have written my sailing scenes as well as I did. I would have loved to say, yes, I’ve been to sea many times but that is simply not true. Thanks to Google, YouTube, and my youngest son, I managed to construct my scenes with some semblance of reality for the era in which my story is set after hours of research.

I read nautical manuals, I read a few of Patrick O’Brien’s Aubrey/Maturin books set during the Napoleonic Wars and watched YouTube clips of the art of sailing three-masted ships over and over again. My fan, and her husband, both said they would not have the patience to do that. And that’s what research takes, patience. Sometimes you have to travel through many avenues to arrive at the nugget of knowledge you need for a particular scene or to add just that kick of spice to your book.

Writing any book requires so much more than ‘just coming up with an idea’. It is not a process for the faint of heart because an author needs a passion for their project, insight, patience, the determination to write and then write more, then work through revisions and re-write, sometimes again and again until the point is reached that they know they have done the best they can. Then it’s time to let the baby go. As a writer, I hoped I had learned the skill of drawing my reader into the world I created. From the conversation I had with my fan (and her husband, by the way), I consider I achieved that goal. And just to whet your appetite, here is a scene from His Ocean Vixen.

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Still trembling in the darkness, dread seeping into her very bones, Juliana chastised herself for not having the courage to venture beyond the safety the locker afforded her. Much as she did not like to admit it, she knew Doctor Tryon had been right. Whoever had overrun them would soon best one lone female, armed or not. The only clear thought in her mind was that she would use her sword however she could to defend herself to the death.

For once in her life she did as she was told and stayed exactly where the doctor had stowed her. She did not know how long she huddled in the locker, praying all the while that Doctor Tryon had kept his promise to help William. The sound of voices faded away as the ship rocked a little, her timbers protesting as she settled in the water. She reached forward and lifted the latch, pushed the door ajar.

All she could hear was the sigh and whisper of the ocean and the squeak and rustle of rats as they scurried along the struts. She waited a few minutes more, each second taking a toll on her nerves, then pushed the door all the way open and emerged slowly, listening intently for any sounds of life above decks.

The boom of a cannon close by made her jump, and then a moment later the Jenny Wren shuddered under the impact as another missile found its mark. Juliana fell back, grabbing for a handhold in the darkness. Another explosion followed the first and the ship groaned as if in anguish and listed heavily to one side.

Juliana sprang into action, not caring about the swirling bilges or the rats jabbering about her feet. The sounds of splintering wood filled her ears as she scrambled up the steep steps of the stairwells. As her head cleared the last set of stairs, she stopped and took in the hellish scene on deck with wide-eyed disbelief.

Scorched stumps were all that remained of the once proud and tall fore and main masts. The masts themselves, with their yardarms and rigging, were a tangled mess of fragmented timber littering the deck. Shredded by cannon fire, what was left of the sails now draped the gunwales in tattered strips of canvas. Amidships the deck was nothing more than a black hole still reeking of gunpowder and smoke. The ship listed a little more.

Tripping on the end of a trailing rope, Juliana lost her balance and tumbled to the deck. Her fingers slipped through something wet and greasy as she tried to get up, and she fell again. Bile rose in her throat when she saw the blood on her hand. The coppery taste of it tainted her tongue. There was so much blood everywhere and, unable to get to her feet, she slid through it across the deck, grasping at anything that might halt her progress.

She landed against an untidy heap of clothing, caught her breath and screamed when she saw the huge, ragged splinters that pinned the man’s body to the deck. His sightless eyes stared at her and her stomach lurched. That was all the incentive she needed to grab at the cargo netting on the gunwale and haul herself to her feet.

 For more information about Victoria, visit her at www.victoriachatham.com 

Enviromentalist's Are A Funny Lot

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Enviromentalist's Are A Funny Lot

So. The pipeline. To build or not to build? As some of you are probably aware, our Government here in BC is currently trying to block the new pipeline that the Federal government has approved, citing that the possibility of a spill and the damage it would cause to our lands and wildlife is completely unacceptable. (Instead they think it is safer to transport it by train, which, let’s face it, is akin to sending tens of thousands of bomb-laden railcars through our country, and therefore our province too, every year. In 2013 Lac-Megantic in Quebec was devastated when one such train slammed into the town and exploded killing 47 people, destroying over 44 buildings, razing to the ground 57,000 square meters of downtown, and releasing over five million litres of crude oil into the environment with hundreds of thousands of that spilling into the Chaudiere River.)

They cite concerns also for our coast and the Juan de Fuca sea-life from possible spills from the increased tanker traffic that would be carrying the products to other countries. (By the way the Federal Government has just spent close to a billion dollars on improving tanker safety and controls.)

I am not arguing that neither a pipeline or a tanker spill would not be devastating, but surely it could not be as devastating as that which happened to the poor people of Lac-Megantic? There are certainly risks either way. However I have two observations to share with you.

Firstly, the hypocrisy of the protesters. Do all the environmentalists bicycle to the protests? Or do they all have electric cars? Or fairy-dust operated winged devices? And why is it only the pipeline they’re up in arms about? What about other environmental issues? My new novel is set in Victoria, and whilst researching the city I found that it still today dumps its raw sewage (a mere 84 million litres) straight into the ocean, totally untreated and unfiltered, and has done so for over one hundred years. In addition the city of Vancouver, which calls itself environmentally committed pumps nearly 34 million litres of sewage, micro plastics and chemicals in the Strait. Check that against the Calgary which has zero spillage into their Bow River.

No one has mentioned how many fish and other ocean critters that the two BC cities have killed and continues to. (And which get contaminated and we then eat!) But I guess environmentalists don’t like to take on crappy concerns, no news in that. Just the big headline ones.

Secondly, it was just announced that the province of Alberta (this province has the largest deposits of oil in the world), which supplies our province with most of its fuel and has to use BC as its ports to sell to other countries, will shut down our supply if we block the new pipeline. Hmmm. Let’s see what happens when no one can get around without any fuel or we have to pay a lot more to ship it up from the US. Still, at least then the environmentalists will be happy. No one will be polluting anymore because we either can’t get to work or it costs more than our annual salary to do so. Actually, after July 1^st (or whenever it is likely to be now) most everyone will be happy and stoned when the Federal Government brings in its new marijuana laws. Well that’s as long as we can walk or fly in our solar operated transports to the nearest pot store, because for now it's going to get tiring to push our cars anywhere. Unless we come up with some clean alternative form of energy, besides oil, we must use it as safe and wisely as possible.

Well we could all go back to riding horses. Then I'm sure someone is going to complain about all the stink and methane of the horse droppings.

So the moral of this month’s blog is this. We’re kinda stuck between the Devil and the deep blue sea. A really crappy one at that!

Sincerely

Frank Talaber

twosoulmates@shaw.ca

My webpage

http://twosoulmates.wixsite.com/frankt-author-blog

Frank Talaber’s Writing Style? He usually responds with: Mix Dan Millman (Way of The Peaceful Warrior) with Charles De Lint (Moonheart) and throw in a mad scattering of Tom Robbins (Even Cowgirls Get The Blues).
PS: He’s better looking than Stephen King (Carrie, The Stand, It, The Shining) and his romantic stuff will have you gasping quicker than Robert James Waller (Bridges Of Madison County).

Or as is often said: You don’t have to be mad to be a writer, but it sure helps.

My novels on Amazon are at (copy and paste link):  https://www.amazon.com/Frank-Talaber/e/B00UC407R0

https://www.facebook.com/FrankTalaber/

https://www.facebook.com/franktalaberpublishedauthor/ (My facebook short story page)

http://bwlpublishing.ca/authors/talaber-frank-suspense-urban-fantasy-canada/

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