Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
The Jags Part 2?
After the win on Sunday against the Raiders, it looks like the Jags just may have a shot at the playoffs. At least, their chances seem to rest in their own hands. For the most part.
If the Jags can beat the Colts in their own house and Houston loses, the Jags have it locked up. Anything else happens then the deck is reshuffled. The potential is there and it sure has been good to see them hanging in there to the end. At times they seem like the 'Cardiac Cats' of old and sure put on a great show. Go Jags! Keep it up! It sure would be fun to see you win the AFC South.
If the Jags can beat the Colts in their own house and Houston loses, the Jags have it locked up. Anything else happens then the deck is reshuffled. The potential is there and it sure has been good to see them hanging in there to the end. At times they seem like the 'Cardiac Cats' of old and sure put on a great show. Go Jags! Keep it up! It sure would be fun to see you win the AFC South.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Reading Your Manuscript Out Loud
One of the final tests the writer should perform before submitting the manuscript for publication is to read the story out loud. It sounds weird, I know, but you'd be surprised what this simple process can reveal. If it doesn't sound good out loud, it won't fly with someone reading it.
As most readers absorb a good book, they create pictures in their mind of scenes, characters, and environments. They also will hear certain things created by the imagination. This is why a good work of fiction is so enjoyable. It wisks you away to a little corner of your mind where you, the reader, get to fill in all the subtleties of the story. Dialogue will create voices in the readers head and if the dialogue is cramped, corny or too mechanical, the reader will know it. When you read the story out loud, all of these flaws become apparent. You'll hear the corny, cheezy, or mechanical flaws and hopefully correct them.
It does take a little getting used to. The first time I tried it, I felt embarrassed even though I was alone. Later, my daughter stuck her head in and looked at me funny. I explained what I was doing and why and she seemed to understand. She pointed out a corny line I had just read and felt somewhat proud of herself. After a little practice you'll even begin reading the story with some emotion almost as if you were acting it out.
The most important thing you'll get out of the exercise is the ability to 'hear' what your readers are 'hearing' in their heads. I think you'll be surprised at some of the mistakes you will find. Don't leave this important step of the editing process out.
As most readers absorb a good book, they create pictures in their mind of scenes, characters, and environments. They also will hear certain things created by the imagination. This is why a good work of fiction is so enjoyable. It wisks you away to a little corner of your mind where you, the reader, get to fill in all the subtleties of the story. Dialogue will create voices in the readers head and if the dialogue is cramped, corny or too mechanical, the reader will know it. When you read the story out loud, all of these flaws become apparent. You'll hear the corny, cheezy, or mechanical flaws and hopefully correct them.
It does take a little getting used to. The first time I tried it, I felt embarrassed even though I was alone. Later, my daughter stuck her head in and looked at me funny. I explained what I was doing and why and she seemed to understand. She pointed out a corny line I had just read and felt somewhat proud of herself. After a little practice you'll even begin reading the story with some emotion almost as if you were acting it out.
The most important thing you'll get out of the exercise is the ability to 'hear' what your readers are 'hearing' in their heads. I think you'll be surprised at some of the mistakes you will find. Don't leave this important step of the editing process out.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
To Pen Name Or Not To Pen Name
Should I write under a pen name or use my own? I'm sure many an author have pondered that same question for one reason or another, but for me I wonder if it would improve or detract from much needed attention.
My own name seems a little boring to me only because it has been my name for 46 years now (alright, cat's out of the bag...I'm ancient). I've asked a few people and they seem to think it's a fine name for an author. Seems dignified, proper, and flows well according to them, but should I use my whole name or some shortened version or even a nickname?
Richard Hale
Rich Hale
Richard C Hale
Dick Hale
Dick C Hale
C Dick Hale
or just Sofaking
Using a unique pen name might be fun if I could find one, but why do some authors do this? Are they trying to hide something or trying to remain anonymous? Maybe they just want to write something a little different than what they are known for? This last thing makes the most sense to me. If you're known for writing horror and say, you want to write porn for a bit, you might need to come up with a pen name until you get it out of your system. Something like Phil McCrackin of Heywood Jablome. Something that would let you do whatever you wanted without the stigma of your past practices impeding progress.
If I were to pick a pen name I think I would like something that just sounded cool. Something that almost sounded like you were a super-hero or something. Jennings Jackson or Slate Steel or Broad Shoulders (?). Alright, that last one was really lame, but you get the idea. A cool handle to attract that oh so elusive book buyer. Something to make me stand out in a crowd of mundane authors whose household names invoke a sense of wonder. Let's look at this for a minute. Put my name up against anyone's. How about Stephen King's:
Stephen King or Richard Charles Hale
No Brainer. Now how about:
Stephen King or Pouridge Livermore
or
Stephen King or Jaeger Moansleeve
or
Stephen King or Cap E. Toll
Something to think about anyway. Right now, I'll just stick with good 'ol Richard Hale. Works for me.
My own name seems a little boring to me only because it has been my name for 46 years now (alright, cat's out of the bag...I'm ancient). I've asked a few people and they seem to think it's a fine name for an author. Seems dignified, proper, and flows well according to them, but should I use my whole name or some shortened version or even a nickname?
Richard Hale
Rich Hale
Richard C Hale
Dick Hale
Dick C Hale
C Dick Hale
or just Sofaking
Using a unique pen name might be fun if I could find one, but why do some authors do this? Are they trying to hide something or trying to remain anonymous? Maybe they just want to write something a little different than what they are known for? This last thing makes the most sense to me. If you're known for writing horror and say, you want to write porn for a bit, you might need to come up with a pen name until you get it out of your system. Something like Phil McCrackin of Heywood Jablome. Something that would let you do whatever you wanted without the stigma of your past practices impeding progress.
If I were to pick a pen name I think I would like something that just sounded cool. Something that almost sounded like you were a super-hero or something. Jennings Jackson or Slate Steel or Broad Shoulders (?). Alright, that last one was really lame, but you get the idea. A cool handle to attract that oh so elusive book buyer. Something to make me stand out in a crowd of mundane authors whose household names invoke a sense of wonder. Let's look at this for a minute. Put my name up against anyone's. How about Stephen King's:
Stephen King or Richard Charles Hale
No Brainer. Now how about:
Stephen King or Pouridge Livermore
or
Stephen King or Jaeger Moansleeve
or
Stephen King or Cap E. Toll
Something to think about anyway. Right now, I'll just stick with good 'ol Richard Hale. Works for me.
Friday, December 10, 2010
The Dummy Part 2
If you haven't read Part 1 you can do so here.
Since we couldn't skate on the ice or slide the furniture around, we went back to our court and each went to our houses to gather some old clothing. We met in my backyard near the hole in the hedge and began assembling a dummy made of a pair of pants and long sleeve shirt and then stuffed it with the other old clothes and rags we had found. Holding him up for inspection we couldn't help but giggle at what we had created.
We took George (the dummy's name) to the pool complex, heaved him over the fence and then clambered over it after him. Jimmy had brought an ice pick and he chipped out a half circle in the ice at the edge of the pool big enough for the dummy and we took the lifeguard hook's pole and stuffed the dummy under the ice, pushing him about 3 to 4 feet away from the edge with the pole.
Through the milky white ice, George the dummy looked exactly like a body trapped under the ice. We put the pole back and scrambled over the fence giggling and laughing the whole time as we high-tailed it back to my yard.
We waited.
A week went by, then two. Every day we would nonchalantly walk past the pool and one of us would turn and look.
"He still there?" Jimmy would ask.
"Yep, still there," his brother John would say.
We couldn't figure out why no one had discovered The Dummy.
The following week, just before dusk, we were playing kick the can in the snow and we heard sirens in the distance getting closer. We all froze. As they grew louder we could tell they were heading for the pool so we hauled ass, laughing and cackling to the hole in the hedge at my back yard and watched.
Two police cars, 3 fire trucks, an ambulance and a small gathering of neighbors watched for 30 minutes or so as the firemen attempted to rescue The Dummy. This part remains frozen in my memory as distinct and clear as the day it happened: Sound travels well over the snow and we could here the emergency vehicle's radios squawk now and then along with the frantic voices of the police and fireman. As they rescued The Dummy, holding it up to see, everything became deathly silent as the guy holding George said: "Fucking kids!" and threw The Dummy to the ground. It made a wet slapping noise as it hit the deck. We ran.
There's a reason I posted this little clip of my childhood. The other day Annandale popped into the news and it made me think about all the good and bad times I had there. The town and The court I lived on were some of the most dramatic and memorable of my young life. But what if things had turned out just a little different? What if the prank had gone wrong? Could be a good story in there. I may just have to put my pen to it. When I'm finished, I'll post it on this blog.
Since we couldn't skate on the ice or slide the furniture around, we went back to our court and each went to our houses to gather some old clothing. We met in my backyard near the hole in the hedge and began assembling a dummy made of a pair of pants and long sleeve shirt and then stuffed it with the other old clothes and rags we had found. Holding him up for inspection we couldn't help but giggle at what we had created.
We took George (the dummy's name) to the pool complex, heaved him over the fence and then clambered over it after him. Jimmy had brought an ice pick and he chipped out a half circle in the ice at the edge of the pool big enough for the dummy and we took the lifeguard hook's pole and stuffed the dummy under the ice, pushing him about 3 to 4 feet away from the edge with the pole.
Through the milky white ice, George the dummy looked exactly like a body trapped under the ice. We put the pole back and scrambled over the fence giggling and laughing the whole time as we high-tailed it back to my yard.
We waited.
A week went by, then two. Every day we would nonchalantly walk past the pool and one of us would turn and look.
"He still there?" Jimmy would ask.
"Yep, still there," his brother John would say.
We couldn't figure out why no one had discovered The Dummy.
The following week, just before dusk, we were playing kick the can in the snow and we heard sirens in the distance getting closer. We all froze. As they grew louder we could tell they were heading for the pool so we hauled ass, laughing and cackling to the hole in the hedge at my back yard and watched.
Two police cars, 3 fire trucks, an ambulance and a small gathering of neighbors watched for 30 minutes or so as the firemen attempted to rescue The Dummy. This part remains frozen in my memory as distinct and clear as the day it happened: Sound travels well over the snow and we could here the emergency vehicle's radios squawk now and then along with the frantic voices of the police and fireman. As they rescued The Dummy, holding it up to see, everything became deathly silent as the guy holding George said: "Fucking kids!" and threw The Dummy to the ground. It made a wet slapping noise as it hit the deck. We ran.
There's a reason I posted this little clip of my childhood. The other day Annandale popped into the news and it made me think about all the good and bad times I had there. The town and The court I lived on were some of the most dramatic and memorable of my young life. But what if things had turned out just a little different? What if the prank had gone wrong? Could be a good story in there. I may just have to put my pen to it. When I'm finished, I'll post it on this blog.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
The Dummy Part 1
I lived in Annandale Virginia when I was a kid and we had a neighborhood pool everybody swam in during the summer. During the winter, the lifeguards and staff stored what they could in the shed, stacked the pool furniture up and locked up the bathrooms tight. Water remained in the pool.
At the mischievous age of 13, my friends and I were always finding ways to get ourselves into trouble and during one of the 'snow days' of that winter, we had gotten bored of the snowball fights and snow fort building, and sledding, and decided we would try skating on the pool. We cut through my backyard (there was an opening between a 10 foot hedge and our fence) and wandered over to the pool complex. It was deserted. All of us climbed the fence and stood at the edge of the frozen pool. The ice didn't look very thick.
John, my next door neighbor decided to test it by putting his weight on one foot while his brother Jimmy and I held on to him. Carefully he put his foot on the ice and leaned out over the water, slowly putting more and more weight on it until he was standing on the ice with one foot. He looked up and grinned at us. That's when the ice broke and his foot dropped into the water. Luckily Jimmy and I had a good grip on him and yanked him right back up but not before his shoe and pant leg up to his knee dipped into the frigid water. He wasn't grinning anymore.
Since sliding or walking on the pool was out, we decided to take all the pool furniture and slide it out to the middle of the frozen pool. We thought this was hilarious since no one could go out and get it as the ice was only strong enough to hold the furniture's weight but not strong enough to hold a human's weight, even a 13 year old.
There the furniture sat until the ice melted and then it all sank to the bottom only to be retrieved by the angry pool staff before the summer swimming season began.
The next winter was even colder than then previous one and the ice over the pool seemed thicker but none of us were willing to test it out. The pool staff had learned their lesson and chained all the furniture to the pool deck so we couldn't slide it out on the ice again. We had a better idea anyway.
Part 2 tomorrow.
At the mischievous age of 13, my friends and I were always finding ways to get ourselves into trouble and during one of the 'snow days' of that winter, we had gotten bored of the snowball fights and snow fort building, and sledding, and decided we would try skating on the pool. We cut through my backyard (there was an opening between a 10 foot hedge and our fence) and wandered over to the pool complex. It was deserted. All of us climbed the fence and stood at the edge of the frozen pool. The ice didn't look very thick.
John, my next door neighbor decided to test it by putting his weight on one foot while his brother Jimmy and I held on to him. Carefully he put his foot on the ice and leaned out over the water, slowly putting more and more weight on it until he was standing on the ice with one foot. He looked up and grinned at us. That's when the ice broke and his foot dropped into the water. Luckily Jimmy and I had a good grip on him and yanked him right back up but not before his shoe and pant leg up to his knee dipped into the frigid water. He wasn't grinning anymore.
Since sliding or walking on the pool was out, we decided to take all the pool furniture and slide it out to the middle of the frozen pool. We thought this was hilarious since no one could go out and get it as the ice was only strong enough to hold the furniture's weight but not strong enough to hold a human's weight, even a 13 year old.
There the furniture sat until the ice melted and then it all sank to the bottom only to be retrieved by the angry pool staff before the summer swimming season began.
The next winter was even colder than then previous one and the ice over the pool seemed thicker but none of us were willing to test it out. The pool staff had learned their lesson and chained all the furniture to the pool deck so we couldn't slide it out on the ice again. We had a better idea anyway.
Part 2 tomorrow.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Computer Virus
Today will be short and sweet (well, maybe not so sweet for me). I seem to have a computer virus and though I'm usually pretty adept at handling these irritating pokes in the eye of this modern age, I find myself a little overwhelmed with everyday duties and really just don't want to deal with it. Alas, it has to be done, because as most of us have found, the family computer seems to be a necessity these days and when it is possessed by demons of some sort, the whole household comes to a screaming halt. So, instead of writing about what I wanted today, I must succumb to the whim of some unknown idiot, tackle the world of hackers and purge my system of its malady. Tomorrow is another day.