Prehistorical Rambling

12:33 AM

 My Books

If you read my books, and stray from the neatly typed paragraphs into the wilderness of  the pencil scrawled margins you will mostly find a lot of arguments.  I am NOT antagonistic.  I just disagree a lot.  There is also a lot of the obvious, over and restated so I can fit the passage into the wrinkles of my brain.  Further out, towards the edge, are passing thoughts- “eeks” of horror and squeaks of laughter.  As you dig deeper though, down into the crevice, you find . . .  cookie crumbs, and tiny flakes of melted chocolate, mushed into a nice little stain. Amongst all of this, you may even find a few new ideas.  You will come away from one of my books with a rough idea of how I view the world, or at the very least, dirty fingers.

 

10:31 PM

            Love.  When it leaves, its like hamburger, bloody and dripping down the sides of a pyramid.  It clings, rotting and festering.  Joy skewered by the black emptiness of separation, creating the overdramatic effects of onions.  Things are no longer fresh and clean like plowed earth, or cedar chips, or even the windblown sands of Egypt, but stale and sticky like tomato sauce that stains the insides of your bowl(e)s.

 

10:36 PM

             How would you know?

 

1:26 AM

Rules of Writing

            My rules for fiction, are nearly identical for my rules of poetry, and in the end, they are both flexible.  Everything, absolutely everything, must serve the story (or poem). 

  1. Less is more.  There are so many excessive words and phrases that we use without thinking.  If they don’t contribute to the story (i.e. advance the plot, develop the character, serve as symbolism or meaningful imagery, etc.) GET RID OF IT!!!!

  2. Similar to #1 is advice given by Faulkner:  “Kill your darlings.”  You may have written the most imaginative description of an ashtray or the most hysterical dialogue, but if it doesn’t serve the story . . . KILL IT!!! 

  3. The story must move.  The pace of the sentences will, or should vary with the action in the story, but as a whole, the story must advance.  Pull your reader, don’t make them plow along, tripping over unnecessary words.  (Somebody get this horse outta here, I think its dead.)

  4. Don’t cop out with –ly words! (quickly, suddenly, etc.)  It may be harder, but if you can wean your sentences from these crutches, they will be stronger and more convincing.  As they say:  “He stopped.”  is more abrupt than “He stopped suddenly.”

  5. The cliché:  Show don’t tell.  Don’t tell us your character is losing his mind.  Whether you do it with the character’s own words or through the narrative is irrelevant – it is still telling and telling is unconvincing.  WE WANT PROOF.  Give us a scene where the character’s actions prove that his butter is slowly (or quickly, as the case may be) slipping off his biscuit.

2:12 AM

            The worries, the cares that can be contained in a single mind, and the effects they have on that mind.  “Worry is interest paid on a debt you may not owe.”  How do you not worry without not caring?  How do you take care of cares?  Middle English, from Old English caru; akin to Old High German kara lament, Latin garrire to chatter  Date:before 12th century  Day care - Intensive care -  Life care – Managed care - Take care - Who cares? 

 

2:13 AM

The devil might.

 

2:57 AM

            I am becoming increasingly amazed at Goethe’s writing and philosophical thought.  Elective Affinities has tied my brain in more knots than I care to admit.  His characters are so authentic and he so accurately portrays real life that trying to analyze the story leads me in a circle, raising five new questions with every one I answer.  Muss es sein? 

  

2:25 AM   

 If you consider your life to be like a yo-yo, what do you do with/about the knots that inevitably show up in the string?

             Knots?  Why I just cut them out. 

 

2:29 AM

             Hey, why’s this string on my finger?

 

8:15 PM

            My time has not always measured out with coffee spoons.  In my younger days, it was measured with music.  Sappy love songs, sad songs, aggressive songs- individual songs, mixed tapes, or complete CD’s – all acted as soundtracks to my shenanigans as well as encouragement, therapy, and stress relief.  At times, music was my sole (soul) friend.  Meinen Waechter de Leben. 

 

6:11:19 PM

Tell me more about you . . .

I’m the one who goes to extremes.  Self adulation and self desecration.  I have a big head.  I have scars.  I have a big, scarred head.

 

 

E-mail me at faust1991@hotmail.com