2008 June | Synaptic Circus of Kelli Jae Baeli

My Beginnings

In my readings about writing, I came across several good points about how the beginning of your book is often the most important part–at least, if you intend to grab the attention of an editor, publisher or agent. I wondered what all my beginnings really looked like…and so I gathered them here for kicks. Would these beginnings make you, as a reader, want to keep reading? I welcome all comments.

My beginnings….
The openings (first sentences/paragraphs) of my books.

“Sully’s, on South Prospect, was the quintessential biker-bar, complete with hefty, leather-clad Harley worshippers, and stringy-haired heroin-addicted women who made the rounds among the bikers. Its decor was decidedly Medieval Garage Sale, with a dose of Americana thrown in. An old motorcycle carcass dangled from the vaulted section of the beamed ceiling, and the wood plank floors were littered with butts, scarred by bottle caps and splattered with homogenized bodily fluids. The only light to be had was from neon, dying sconces, and lit cigarettes. Various medieval swords perched on each wall, reminiscent of the times of Beowulf and Fire Dragons on the Barrow.” ~Achilles Forjan

~

“Early September rain slanted onto his shoulders as he stepped off the bus in Colorado Springs. Today, he would be returning to the house his mother left him. His lawyer had arranged the house to be rented until his release, so unlike most ex-cons, he wouldn’t be checking into the YMCA. To-morrow, he’d go visit his cousin, who had promised him a job on his construction crew. The next day, he’d begin his surveillance on the cop. He believed the adage that revenge was a dish best served cold. He’d had five long years to think about it, and now that he was here, he wanted to focus on ways to serve that dish.” ~Another Justice

~

“While throwing the paper in the paved, pristine driveway, I glanced up and saw the ghostly vestige moving away from the tiny garden. The vision circled the wrought-iron bench and moved fluidly across the lawn toward my Falcon. The filmy fabric of her white peignoir billowed along behind her. She bent to retrieve yesterday’s newspaper, and I was immediately taken with her beauty, though shadows and shy moonlight hid the woman’s features; that kind of beauty needed no illumination to be obvious.” ~ Armchair Detective

~

“Blue Spruce shouldered clumps of unsullied snow along the icy driveway leading to the secluded brick and cedar house atop Red Mountain. The dream faded, as the dreamer began the process of lifting heavy lids. Eyes focusing, she saw the blond woman standing over her in an apron blotted with a myriad of colors, liberated from the twisted tubes onto her palette. She reached out with the camel hair brush and dotted her lover’s nose with Cadmium red.” ~As You Were

~

“Ignorance really is bliss, sometimes. She had been blissful these last few months, enjoying the company of a man who reminded her how lonely she’d been. It didn’t hurt that he was also handsome, charming and stinking rich.” ~ Baggage

~

“I have always been a seeker. I am forever trying to find where I fit in the world, and though I’ve made great strides in that regard, I have come to a crossroads (pardon the cliche). My beliefs about religion, spirituality and all things related have been sorely tested and now I have embarked on a quest for answers. I spend a good deal of time studying about it, and this book is about that personal journey.” ~Supernatural Hypocrisy: The Cognitive Dissonance of a God Cosmology

~

“Any Lesbian who is currently single knows that it’s often a great deal less romantic to be unattached than the media would have us believe. Many of us would love to hang out with the kinds of women we see on the L-Word, yet in the Lesbian Community, this is often not an option. Sophisticated, feminine lesbians are simply not the norm, overall. Most of the actresses who play those roles are in fact, heterosexual. I have frequently been chagrined by this. In all of Hollywood, they could not find a cast of feminine, sophisticated lesbians to play those roles? In this case, it seems that art does not imitate life. It warrants consideration.” ~ISO (In Search Of): The Art of Dating, Relationships, & Sex for the Discerning Lesbian

~

“Micah believed wholeheartedly in the law of Karma, which, when you peel away the spiritual dogma, is merely the scientific law of cause and effect. This was why she could not make sense of the insipid morass of misfortune that her life had become. The degree of bad luck seemed to suggest that she had perpetrated some atrocity against humanity. Yet she felt wholly victimized. All she had done was try to kick her life into gear. She had become lazy and without direction. She had become fat. She was drifting on a sea of whateverness.” ~ Plethora

~

“If you push your luck, expect it to push back. That’s what my Grandma Beasley used to say. And she was right. I had it illustrated to me ten days ago, and again on this frigid October night in the middle of Nowhere, Kansas.” ~Quintessence

“If I still like dick, does that mean I cannot be a lesbian? Rachel struggled with that question. She shifted the Jaguar, relishing the feel of the gear knob in her hand, and imagined how it would feel inside her. Was the only discerning element strictly about who the dick was attached to? To WHOM the dick was attached, she corrected herself. Damn. Even in her erotic musings, she could not deny the academic portions of her identity. ” ~ A Random Act of Blindness

~

“Cornelius paused with vermilion loaded up on his brush, about to make a bold swath across the canvas, when he noticed Daelah. Placing the loaded brush in his teeth, he reached down and readjusted the position of his wheelchair so he could see her better. At the end of the long corridor leading to the kitchen, she stood at the foot of the stairs, looking up at the ceiling, and down at her hands, and touching her own face.” ~ Somewhere Else

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June 21st, 2008

Fiction, Random Act of Blindness, sex, WRITING CRAFT

Random Act of Fiction

The book I am working on now is an expansion project. Random Act of Blindness began as a short story for an erotic publication, grew into a novella, and now, I am expanding it to a full-length novel. This project is dear to me because I am RAOBfrcvr_11Mar12_e_138x210 trying to do something that I don’t think happens very much in the genre: making a truly erotic story rich with all the elements of any other good novel.

I have always wondered why erotica seems to be sequestered in a dark corner, like a misbehaving red-headed step-child. Why can’t we have stories that are interesting, filled with three-dimensional characters, and a plot that keeps you turning pages? Why are erotica and quality fiction so often mutually exclusive? I mean, we all know that we all have sex (unless we don’t, and that’s another subject). So why do we pretend that sexual activity is not a part of our existence? It is at once one of the most motivating factors in our every day lives. It melts hearts, it wrecks marriages, it defines us, moves us, reveals us, and keeps us in touch with both our humanity and our spiritual selves. So why do we pretend, in our fiction, it is only an afterthought?

Perhaps the crux of the issue revolves around the degree to which we describe our sexual encounters in novels. But then, I have to wonder if this is some atavistic mentality that smacks of our historical shame regarding the sex act itself. I contend that sex is not dirty, unless you haven’t bathed.

Another challenge I have found with Random Act is that in expanding a story like this, one can only show the characters having sex so many times before it becomes tedious. It has to become, to a degree, less about the sex, and more about the characters and the story. This precarious balance I seek will no doubt make me a better writer, if I manage to pull it off. It remains to be seen if any readers find it a viable and respectable offering in the fiction milieu.

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June 21st, 2008

HUMOR, pain

"Can’t. Have a Bone in my Shoulder."

One witty remark that I have always loved is about an excuse not to do something: “I can’t. I have a bone in my leg.”

I still find that wisecrack hysterical.

My jocularity is tempered somewhat by the fact that I really do have a bone that keeps me from doing everything I want to do–at least, not without pain. I have a new bone spur in my left shoulder. I also have one in my right shoulder, but it did its acting up a few years ago, and now seems relatively well-behaved.

The problem with bone spurs is that they are mutants. They are growths of bone, usually near a joint, that cannot really be “cured.” Most people wind up getting a surgery to shave them down. But they usually grow back, so I am loathe to go that route. My specific bone spurs seem to like to impinge on ligaments and nerves. The right shoulder bone spur impinged on and off for two years and even stayed painful and debilitating for 8 solid months during that time. Then it somehow let go, and seems okay now.

But just when I thought it was safe to lift my arm–Bam! I get one in my left shoulder, too. Same location, on the joint. Now, reaching to the nightstand, reaching for a plate in the cabinet, throwing my new kitten off me, and onto the bed–that’s like having an ice pick plunged into me for about 30 solid seconds. Any movement, really, that requires me to lift my arm, especially to extend it in a lifted position, is cause for muffled screaming.

I know I’m not angelic enough to be growing wings…as much fun as that would be. So, I guess it’s a good thing that I’m not a pro tennis player. Or a traffic cop. Or a left-handed hitch hiker. See? I am perfectly capable of looking on the bright side.

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June 21st, 2008

indie publisher, PUBLISHING, self-publishing, writer, writing business, WRITING LIFE

Veteran Aspiring Author

I won’t apologize for letting this blog sit and gather a few cob webs. I’ve been engaged in the work this blog espouses. Writing. Reading. Editing. Learning. Oh, and periodically, living my life, too, outside of the literary pursuits–such as it is. Blogging is a spurt-sport for me. I do it in spurts. Not so with the writing of my books.

Currently, I am polishing up previous manuscripts, after learning new things. And while this is a fresh endeavor, it’s not due to any greenness on my part. I have said many times that I spent 20 years falling in love with my craft, rather than with my words. The tide has shifted so that I finally feel I can offer my work for public consumption in a more professional and acceptable way. So I’m doing that now.

I am also writing five other books. (I don’t work on them at once, really, but sometimes I get stuck on one, or inspired about another and I switch off. Different writers have different modus operandi. ).

The issue that has reared its mottled head, is that because I am not signed with a “traditional” publisher, but have been at this writing endeavor so long, I find myself in a strange netherworld of “Veteran Aspiring Author.” I do not feel like I “aspire” to be an author. I already am one. But then you have to get into the quagmire of definition. What is the difference between an Aspiring Author and An Author? “Aspiring” author tends to refer to the fact that I have no contract with a publisher other than myself (though I have turned down two offers on two different books). But I dislike the phrase Aspiring Author, as I feel it is at once a contradiction in my case. An author, in its simplest definition, and the one to which I refer, is a person who writes a book. Not tries to write it. But writes it. Completes it. When you begin your first book, you are a writer. When you have finished it, you then become an author. That is to me the most concise way of framing what an author is. So when someone refers to authors as aspiring, to me, it means they haven’t yet completed a book. To the masses, I suspect it might mean they are writing books but haven’t been published traditionally yet.

So, having said all that, I am an author. I have written 13 books (so far). I am currently writing 5 others. Imagine my discomfort when I try to find my peers. I join writing groups and the discussion is “How do I get ideas to write about?” or “Do I need to start a new paragraph when each character speaks?” or “Why dont publashers except my writeing?”

Okay, not on that level anymore… But having peer reviews from other “unpublished” writers can be equally frustrating, when I’ve read their work and know that they are still making horrendous stylistic, grammatical and plotting errors in their own material, while seeking to help me “improve” mine. That’s a risky thing to say, as it can easily come off arrogant. I assure you, there’s a difference between arrogance and substantiated confidence. I know I have progressed. I know I’m a much better writer now than I was 10 years ago, because I’ve put the hard work in, and will always continue to expand the mastery of my craft. The learning will never end. But I am no longer part of the beginning writers crowd. In fact, the most popular magazine for writers has become somewhat useless to me, as I stopped learning anything new from it, and in fact, realized I could be writing some of those articles myself. Anyone who knows me, knows that I am not arrogant, so I hope this doesn’t come off that way. I just don’t believe that false modesty serves any purpose. I am a good writer. I know that. Can I be better? of course, always. But it’s difficult to be in the position I’m in because it’s hard to find peers. And then, I have to also market my work in an environment that is still stigmatized–Independent/self-publishing. All this, while I feel like a veteran in the business.

Anyway. That’s where I am. Veteran Aspiring Author.

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June 13th, 2008

angst, crisis, Iraq, POLITICS & GOVERNMENT, war

Lee Iacocca, Speaking MY Mind

Remember Lee Iacocca, the man who rescued Chrysler Corporation from it’s death throes? He is now 82 years old and has a new book. Here are some excerpts:

“Am I the only guy in this country who’s fed up with what’s happening? Where the hell is our outrage? We should be screaming bloody murder. We’ve got a gang of clueless bozos steering our ship of state right over a cliff, we’ve got corporate gangsters stealing us blind, and we can’t even clean up after a hurricane much less build a hybrid car. But instead of getting mad, everyone sits around and nods their heads when the politicians say, ‘Stay the course.’

Stay the course? You’ve got to be kidding. This is America , not the damned ‘Titanic.’ I’ll give you a sound bite: ‘Throw all the bums out!’

You might think I’m getting senile, that I’ve gone off my rocker, and maybe I have. But someone has to speak up. I hardly recognize this country anymore.

The most famous business leaders are not the innovators but the guys in handcuffs. While we’re fiddling in Iraq , the Middle East is burning and nobody seems to know what to do. And the press is waving ‘pom poms’ instead of asking hard questions. That’s not the promise of the ‘America’ my parents and yours traveled across the ocean for. I’ve had enough. How about you?

I’ll go a step further. You can’t call yourself a patriot if you’re not outraged. This is a fight I’m ready and willing to have. The Biggest ‘C’ is Crisis ! (Iacocca elaborates on nine C’s of leadership – crisis being the first.)

Leadership is forged in times of crisis. Leaders are made – not born. It’s easy to sit there with your feet up on the desk and talk theory. Or send someone else’s kids off to war when you’ve never seen a battlefield yourself. It’s another thing to lead when your world comes tumbling down.

On September 11 , 2001, we needed a strong leader more than any other time in our history. We needed a steady hand to guide us out of the ashes.

A Hell of a Mess! So here’s where we stand.

We’re immersed in a bloody war with no plan for winning and no plan for leaving.

We’re running the biggest deficit in the history of the country.

We’re losing the manufacturing edge to Asia , while our once-great companies are getting slaughtered by health care costs.

Gas prices are skyrocketing, and nobody in power has a coherent energy policy.

Our schools are in trouble!

Our borders are like sieves.

The middle class is being squeezed every which way. These are times that cry out for leadership.

But when you look around, you’ve got to ask, ‘ Where have all the leaders gone?’ Where are the curious, creative communicators? Where are the people of character, courage, conviction, omnipotence, and common sense? I may be a sucker for alliteration, but I think you get the point.

Name me a leader who has a better idea for homeland security than making us take off our shoes in airports and throw away our shampoo?

We’ve spent billions of dollars building a huge new bureaucracy, and all we know how to do is react to things that have already happened.

Name me one leader who emerged from the crisis of Hurricane Katrina.

Congress has yet to spend a single day evaluating the response to the hurricane, or demanding accountability for the decisions that were made in the crucial hours after the storm. Everyone’s hunkering down, fingers crossed, hoping it doesn’t happen again.

Now, that’s just crazy. Storms happen. Deal with it. Make a plan. Figure out what you’re going to do the next time. Name me an industry leader who is thinking creatively about how we can restore our competitive edge in manufacturing. Who would have believed that there could ever be a time when ‘The Big Three’ referred to Japanese car companies? How did this happen, and more importantly, what are we going to do about it?

Name me a government leader who can articulate a plan for paying down the debt, or solving the energy crisis, or managing the health care problem. The silence is deafening. But these are the crises that are eating away at our country and milking the middle class dry.

I have news for the gang in Congress:
‘We didn’t elect you to sit on your asses and do nothing and remain silent while our democracy is being hijacked and our greatness is being replaced with mediocrity.’

What is everybody so afraid of? That some bonehead on the News will call them a name? Give me a break. Why don’t you guys show some spine for a change?

Had Enough?

Hey, I’m not trying to be the voice of gloom and doom here. I’m trying to light a fire. I’m speaking out because I have hope; I believe in America. In my lifetime I’ve had the privilege of living through some of America ‘s greatest moments. I’ve also experienced some of our worst crises: the ‘Great Depression’, ‘World War II’, the ‘Korean War,’ the ‘Kennedy Assassination,’ the ‘Vietnam War,’ the 1970′s oil crisis, and the struggles of recent years culminating with 9/11.

If I’ve learned one thing it’s this:
‘You don’t get anywhere by standing on the sidelines waiting for somebody else to take action. Whether it’s building a better car or building a better future for our children, we all have a role to play. That’s the challenge I’m raising in this book.’

It’s a call to ‘Action’ for people who, like me, believe in America. It’s not too late, but it’s getting pretty close. So let’s shake off the crap and go to work. Let’s tell ‘em all we’ve had ‘enough.’

Make your own contribution by sending this to everyone you know and care about. It’s our country, folks and it’s our future.

OUR FUTURE IS AT STAKE!

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