The Space Between.

Right now, I am entering what I have just decided to call “The Space Between.” It’s the space between projects, that all-too-short time period between finishing one thing and beginning another. I finally finished the second chapter of One Less Hero, entitled “With A Little Help From My Friends,” and it has made it through my rather ridiculous editing process for the most part unscathed. All that is left is incorporating my edits into the final draft and then publishing the finished product. I’ve set a publication date of Monday, November 11, and I think I’m in a position to keep that deadline. It actually flows pretty well for a draft that contains various pieces from five very different drafts written over the last eight months.

[Note: Not all of the chapters are going to be like that one. I always knew what I wanted to happen in it, but I could never quite figure out exactly how I wanted it to happen. The final version is an amalgamation of several different ideas. Like I said above, I’m slightly amazed at how well it seems to flow considering how it came about. Of course, I could be completely biased and it might be a complete piece of crap that is all over the place thematically. I’ll leave that for the readers to decide.]

So Chapter 2 is finished, and it’s time for me to move onto my next endeavor. Unfortunately for my free time, I’ve already decided what that next endeavor will be. And the holiday season is the perfect time to be writing it.

Last year around this time, I had just moved to Nashville and I was living in a cheap hotel with cable and a spotty wireless connection. I was missing my family, and one of the things I did to fill that time (aside from watching reruns of The Big Bang Theory and Restaurant: Impossible—don’t judge) was writing. One Less Hero was one of the projects to come out of that hotel stay, and it heavily influenced a novelette I’m shopping around called It Starts and Ends with You. However, the story I focused on the most while I was actually staying in the hotel room was a Christmas-themed story that started with a retelling of Frosty the Snowman and made a sharp 90-degree turn after that. I’m very excited about it, mostly because a Christmas story is one of those things I never really thought I’d be writing. They always seem too sugary and tired and predictable, but this one is none of those things; it’s very much me. It’s also a little bit someone else, which is another reason why I’m excited to write it.

I’ve made no secret of my love of the work of Neil Gaiman. He’s one of my biggest inspirations as a writer, and I still constantly point anyone and everyone to this commencement speech and dare them not to be floored. The Christmas story I’m about to start working on again is probably the closest I will get to writing a Gaiman story. It’s a little bit real-world, a little bit fantasy, a little bit horror, a little bit heart-wrenching, and a little bit allegory. Gaiman himself has paid tribute to one of his favorite writers, fantasy staple Michael Moorcock, in numerous short stories over his writing career, so I feel no shame in doing the same.

Generally, the Space Between is a pretty short time period for me; sometimes it can be measured in minutes. I think I’m going to give myself a few days for this one, then dive in headfirst. And maybe, just maybe, I can actually finish this story before the holiday that inspired it arrives.

Thanking Neil Gaiman.

On July 10th, my favorite author, Neil Gaiman, came to Nashville during his latest (and last, he claims) book-signing tour. He is promoting his newest book, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, across the country, and the War Memorial Auditorium was one of the final stops on the tour.

For Father’s Day, my wife surprised me with tickets. I had mentioned the signing to her a few months ago, and she knew me well enough to know that I would probably just procrastinate and put off buying them. It’s something I do often; I will come across something I really want, something that excites me to my core, then I will talk myself out of it because the thought of actually experiencing it makes me nervous and possibly even a little sick to my stomach.

I know, I’m weird. A lot of people remind me on a daily basis.

But since she bought the tickets for me, I had no excuse not to go. I’m lucky to have a woman at my side who practically forces me to do the things she knows I will enjoy. That may have even been in our vows, hidden somewhere between the lines.

Our seats were not the best, but I didn’t care all that much. I could still hear the amusing anecdotes and stories behind the stories, even if Neil Gaiman’s face was obscured 90 percent of the time by a towering stack of speakers. He answered questions submitted by audience members (“How do you take your tea?” one asked. He deadpanned, “Orally.”), and he read a selection from his latest novel enhanced by the deep rumblings of a Tennessee thunderstorm. He also read an excerpt from a children’s book coming out this fall entitled Fortunately, The Milk, accompanied onstage by Nashville native Bela Fleck, who provided background music and sound effects for the story with his banjo. It is a story about the incredible and unbelievable adventure a father has while trying to bring home a bottle of milk for his children’s breakfasts. It was the perfect way to end my father’s day present.

The signing was next. We made it close to the beginning of the line, thanks to the very thoughtful planners who allowed pregnant or disabled people to move to the front. My wife is 37 weeks along, and she certainly appreciated the gesture. After waiting maybe 15 to 20 minutes, I was next in line to have my copy of The Ocean at the End of the Lane signed.

So what do you do when you come face to face with one of your idols?

You thank him.

The attendant handed him the book, complete with a Post-It note on the inside cover inscribed with my name in all capital letters. (A rather ingenious move on their part—no misspellings, no misheard or misunderstood names.) He nodded to me as I approached the table. He then addressed the book with my name, his signature, and a single additional word: “Dream.”

He placed the signed book in my hand, and I simply said, “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he replied.

Sure, he probably thought I was just thanking him for the autograph. And maybe, in that moment, I was. But I was also thanking him for other things. I was thanking him for the body of work he had created. I was thanking him for the stories he had dreamed up and cast out into the world—stories that eventually inspired me to tell my own. I was thanking him for this speech. In short, I was thanking him for doing what he did, and for doing it so well.

As I write this, I have dozens of unwritten stories in my head, along with a handful that exist in some kind of tangible form in one place or another. One will be finished in the next few days, a 14,000-word novelette that is probably one of my most personal stories to date.

Neil Gaiman is one of the reasons I decided to become a writer. His work showed me how powerful words, ideas, and stories can be. Meeting him tonight and hearing him speak of the power that all these made-up stories can possess has been more than inspiring; it’s been invigorating.

Thank you, Neil. For everything.

(And also . . . thank you for signing my book.)

A voice imaginary.

When writing stories, an author has a lot of choices to make before he ever sets pen to paper (or fingertips to keys, in this instance). Even after deciding the story he wants to tell, he has to decide how to tell it. This very important step is one that is often overlooked. It’s just not something you usually think about when reading; what if the story had been told differently? To use a phrase I generally can’t stand, it is what it is. We don’t tend to think about the different possible ways a story could have been written because, well, it was written the way we’re reading it.

But I guarantee the writer thought about it.

He wanted to start a new story. After he finally formed the basis of the plot and peppered it with a few memorable characters, he was still not ready to start writing. He had to answer a few questions first. Should the story be told in past tense or present tense? Should it be in the form of a character’s journal, letters written by a character to someone else, some kind of inner monologue, or maybe just a straight dictation of events? If it is a novel, what kind of novel should it be? Should it be a straightforward narrative, or a group of interconnected short stories, or even a mixed media-type of project with false news articles, interviews and the like? (And please don’t think I am being sexist. I am very aware of the fact that writers are often female; I just hate writing the phrase “he or she” over and over again. It gets annoying.)

So many choices. For me, however, the most important decision is choosing the voice of the story.

Think of your favorite novel. Now think of all the different ways it could have been told. Would it still be the same? Would The Catcher In The Rye be the same iconic work of fiction it is today if it hadn’t featured the commentary of Holden Caulfield? Would The Great Gatsby have the same impact if it was told by Gatsby himself instead of the much more relatable Nick Carroway?

From the very beginning, I knew the story would have a narrator. That fact was never up for debate. It wouldn’t be a story that simply unfolded before the reader’s eyes; it would be a story told to the reader by someone who had opinions of their own. But I had to make it different.

A long time ago, I created a character for a short story that dealt with a chess game between two friends. (It was more exciting than it sounds.) The story itself was never finished; instead, it was worked into another idea that took shape from another idea . . . you see where this is going. Because of that, this particular character has gone through innumerable changes, and now, after years of molding and shaping, he stands as my most prized literary creation. Into him I have poured both the best and worst aspects of humanity; he is a manipulator that doesn’t mind showing you the puppet strings he holds, yet he is so charming and charismatic that you don’t mind the power he has over you.

So, naturally, he had to be my narrator.

He wasn’t always a part of this story. Once I mixed him in, however, it truly came to life. The best part of it all is that, on the surface, it seems like he has absolutely nothing to do with the story other than the fact that he is the one telling it. But things are never what they seem in the world I’m creating.

The story I am writing is one rooted in reality. However, using this narrator adds a touch of fantasy to the mix. I love blending the two. Perhaps that is why I have such a love for all things Neil Gaiman . . . but that’s a story for another entry.

In an “Author’s Note” in my manuscript, I introduce the reader to my beloved narrator with these words:

I would like to introduce you to someone. I will refrain from describing him, since he would more than likely appear different to you than he does to me. Of his appearance, I will say only this: you will lose every part of yourself if you look into his eyes, and the entire world would crumble in the wake of his smile.

Furthermore, he is an extremely unreliable narrator, making the story even more fun for me to write. He leaves things out on purpose, most often because they are parts of the story that simply bore him. Sure, it means that readers will have a few more things to put together than normal . . . but that is part of the fun. I didn’t set out to write an easy book; I set out to write a good one.

And, as I’m finding out more and more by the day, nothing good ever comes easy.

Drifting, drafting and dramatis personae.

Ladies and gentlemen, I offer some advice:

If you would like to start an even remotely semi-productive blog, you should definitely not start an all-consuming writing project less than two weeks later. It’s just bad for business.

However, I am happy to report that I am making progress. Perhaps not quite as much progress as I would like to be making, but, nevertheless, progress is there. It can be hard to find the time and the opportunity to work on the story, but I believe I am doing well with what I do have.

I am also happy (and somewhat relieved, to tell the truth) that I have yet to run out of story to tell. This is something that can happen from time to time when I’m writing. I will end a section or a chapter, then sit back and ask myself, “Where do I go from here?” Luckily, that has not happened. I wish there was some wood around that I could knock on quickly.

I have been staying a couple chapters ahead of myself throughout this entire process. Sure, I know the entire story, but I don’t necessarily know how it unfolds. It’s more exciting to write that way, as the last entry explained.

Right now, the pieces are all falling into place. All the major characters have been introduced. In fact, in a departure from my usual modus operandi, the entire cast of characters is introduced on the first page. Generally, I tend to start out slowly, introducing characters one or two at a time. I try to ease readers into a story, letting them get comfortable in the shallow end before the water gets any deeper.

Not this time.

Most plays and even some novels with large casts of characters often begin with a list of dramatis personae—a list of the work’s characters, sometimes accompanied by a short description of who they are. One of my favorite uses of a dramatis personae list is in the novel Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, a book I highly recommend if you have not read it. The book is about the beginning of the Biblical Armageddon and the attempt by two friends, an angel and a demon, to stop it, since they’ve decided they’re rather fond of Earth after all and don’t really want it to be destroyed. In the book’s opening, they list the characters of the novel and, as a glimpse into the humor of the book, offer amusing yet accurate descriptions of these characters. Here is my favorite, which is the listing for the demon:

Crowley: An Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards.

That particular line always makes me laugh.

Now, I didn’t make a list, per say. I introduced the characters in paragraph form. Still, since it is a work with a large number of characters, all equally important, I wanted the audience to know who they are from the very beginning. And, using this list, the story is going to rotate from character to character as it progresses. What are essentially three different story arcs will all be taking place simultaneously. It’s going to be a challenge, but a fun one.

With that, I should probably get back to it. If my entries become more and more infrequent, I apologize. However, when I finish this draft, I will have plenty more to write about. Wish me luck.