On Which Side of the Interactive Divide Do You Fall?

In one of those synergistic moments with the world, Nathan Bransford posted on interactive books yesterday. Imagine that. Me, ahead of the game instead of behind it. I'm so grateful to be part of technology's newest foray into the fiction experience. I loved reading through the comments, too. It seems to be a good cross-section of opinions, albeit a little heavy on the let-books-be-books side of the debate.

I've been putting off organizing my writing space. This is my way of delaying the inevitable: making that decision about which project to go with. Two novels need editing, one begs to be completed. That, along with another ghostwriting venture has my brain percolating with indecision.

I'm gorging on the last few movies in my hero-inspired list from said interactive novel just completed. It seems I'm reluctant to leave this particular Brit behind. Right now, I'm watching an indie historical flick where he has, perhaps, two script sheets of dialogue when combined. Two hours just for a few nuggets of heart-melting brilliance? Hell to the yeah. It occurred to me two days ago that I need to focus on new hero inspiration for a new project. Unfortunately, this epiphany hit while at the water park. Ask me if I found inspiration among the camouflage swim trunks and keg stomachs. If my next hero has an unfortunate farmer's tan, you'll know why.

What do you think about interactive ebooks? Would you enjoy reading a novel via tablet or smart phone if it offered a new aspect to the reading experience you couldn't get with a Kindle or Nook? How much interactive content is too much?

Semi-Neurotic Liberation

I waited to write this post because I wanted the fullness of the ghostwriting experience, from conception with client to full-length novel publication. Publication is nearly upon us; and with it, I'm sure, the semi-neurotic mood swings all writers go through when putting words out there for public consumption. I'm prepared for them. Been there, done that. What I wasn't prepared for in this process was how liberating it was.

I no longer had to worry about marketability of concept. I'm not a marketer. I no longer had to worry about titles and pen names and cover art and the thousand and one other decisions that go into a fully-formed project. I no longer had to anticipate a media blitz, reviews and social media-ing myself until I was hugging my knees in the corner of the closet, rocking back and forth, a feeble "tweet, tweet," whispering from my lips. I'm not a publicist or a software expert or a saleswoman. I am a writer. I wrote.

And therein lies true liberation.

I often think I was born in the wrong age. A hundred years ago, when the gatekeepers to the publishing world were the only path, writers were free to do what they did best. Create. Edit. Ponder. Write some more. The current publishing climate is for control freaks and workaholics and jackanabes that subsist on every review morsel, be it nourishing or not. I know, because I am one of them. Or was. I can feel my diet shifting back to a healthy dose of what this gig is all about. Creating. Editing. Pondering. Writing some more.

And loving it.

If you're interested in my latest project, be sure to follow me on Twitter. I'll be providing a link the day it hits virtual shelves.

Going Rambo on Time Travel

So now Sylvester Stallone is a time traveler? I can imagine, were it true, he would have loftier ambitions than Pope Gregory IX at the Vatican. Snooze, right? I picture him in more of a butt-kicking revolutionary soldier. Here's Jack Black, Brad Pitt and a few others celebrity doppelgangers if you're up for comparing.

Now that the Vortex is re-calibrated for time travel again, I present my theory that has only recently solidified: time travel and television don't mix.

Sure, there are a few obscure series who have found a niche audience, but for the purposes of my argument, I'm talking major networks, major audience, major prime-time exposure. And sure, shows like the Twilight Zone and Star Trek tackled time travel successfully, but in the context of single, self-contained episodes. 

First, lets tackle the audience. We have the attention span of a gnat. We find men who can withstand extensive groin-kicking entertaining.We have hundreds of channels at our fingertips that splinter our viewing experience to channel-surfing sound bytes.

Then, there's the networks. Executives at pitch meetings hear a fantastic high-concept for a series: Awake,  Alcatraz, Journeyman, Terra Nova, Life on Mars to name a few. Perhaps they are people like me who love time travel and all its complex dynamics and inherent conflict. They think if they cast hotties from the UK into lead roles, it will drive American audiences to their couches each week.They forget their audience is comprised of gnats who would rather see fake tans and bad sex than anything remotely stimulating to the intellect. But mostly, they forget that if the premise of their show is based on time travel, it can't be wrapped up in a pretty bow at the end of the hour. And therein lies the problem.

Television is inherently fragmented. Anyone not on board from the beginning will not step onto a moving, swirling vortex of time travel confusion and the series is headed for cancellation before it ever starts.

The late 1980s series Quantum Leap worked because, for the most part, each episode was self-contained. There was a larger mythology, but it wasn't necessary to understand the bigger picture to enjoy Sam and Al's time leaps. It also aired at a time of fewer choices, thus, a more concentrated, devoted audience.

Another exception was LOST. However, the time travel element was brought in long after it hooked audiences based on the initial scenario of plane crash survivors when audiences were so far committed into the WTF-ery that they would think: polar bears? On a tropical island? Sure, why the hell not!

This all makes me want to write J.J. Abrams a letter. Tell him I adore him for loving time travel the way that I do then advise him to stick to movies. Self-contained vessels for a more discerning audience.

What is your theory on why time travel shows can't succeed on network television?

On Word Clouds and Rituals

Greetings, Vortexers! I have emerged from the Twilight Zone writers refer to as "deadline hell" relatively unscathed. The novel I was ghostwriting is finished, soon to be turned in (and published), and it has left me a little bereft. Maybe it's because I haven't been here at the Vortex for awhile. Maybe I need to get my time travel mojo back. Maybe it's because I have to say goodbye to characters. Sounds nuts, I know. But spend all day, every day for months with the voices in your head, and they become real.

I'm not sure what book-ending rituals other writers have. I have Wordle. The absolute final thing I do before I call a work finished is cut and paste it, in its entirety, into the wordle text box. Wordle takes the most frequent words and creates a montage, which you can then jack with artistically. This accomplishes two things. Practically, it helps the writer to know if there is a glaring overuse of some inconsequential crutch word-the larger the word, the more frequently it appears in the text. Visually, it's a beautiful representation of a lot of hard work.

I'm not sure how much of this novel I'll be able to share with Vortexers since it was ghostwritten, but I wanted to share its wordle. It's a romance novel, so I suppose it's a really good thing the hero's name, Chase, turned up the biggest. In this case, size does matter. Unfortunately, the powers-that-be at wordle no longer allow a simple cut and paste and increasing its girth only distorts the words. Ahem. But if you click on the mini-graphic it'll link you to wordle's page and a larger version if you're curious.

I look forward to catching up on life and friends and chores (crazy, I know). I might finally stop watching British television, clean out the meat drawer, paint a room or two and get back to volunteering.

For writers here, what are your book-ending rituals? For readers, do you have any rituals after you read that last page?

Dream Looping

I wanted to check in today because I miss everyone. Deadlines are a bugger-boo. I love that faithful Vortexers and friends Todd and Robin are celebrating new releases. Way to go, you two! The dream is alive and well. I can't wait to check them both out.

The ghostwriting project I'm working on is now in the editing stage. If  you would have ever said I could write a novel in five weeks, I would have asked what you were smoking. I have always written like a turtle on my projects. Maybe because they're deep and dark and heavy on symbolism and subplots and theme, and in my mind-a serious-novel. This project, in a word: fun.

Writers tend to lose that fun along the way. Our first project is breezy (mostly due to the plot holes) and reckless. Then writers learn conventions and rules and rules to break and industry expectations and the writer-to-project relationship becomes a long-term marriage where the writer takes writing for granted and the writing scratches itself in public and never, ever helps out around the house. Getting back in touch with the breezy and reckless side was like a fast love affair with my dreams. And it's not over yet. For three more weeks, I get to live in this world then give it away. No clinging ties, no messy breakup. Just gone. Poof!

So  you don't miss out on all the time travel goodness too much, here's a sneak peek at the upcoming film, Looper, starring Bruce Willis and Joseph Gordon-Levitt.




Have a great weekend, everyone!

British Men With Gooey Centers

Today has been a whack day for productivity. Crazy release days for favorite books. Crazy storms. Crazy calls and texts from friends and family about said storms. I feel loved but behind schedule. Late afternoon is also my least-stellar time for optimum output...come to think of it...any output, so I'm happy to inform Vortexers that you all are getting sloppy seconds on my creativity. You're welcome.

It has been quite a while, so I'm guessing you figured out that the hot British guy on the beach has been more than a handful. And as delightfully tingly as that, no doubt, makes at least half of you, I can't begin to tell you-almost halfway through this ghostwriting experience-how much I have learned about myself as a writer. So much, it really deserves a Vortex 10 on the back end, once my final deadline has passed, but consider this a sneak preview.

I have learned to respect my limitations. Some writers have wrist and carpal tunnel issues. Some writers struggle with weight issues from such an inactive profession. Some endure self-flagellation over procrastination and writer's block. My limitations are my eyes. It's no secret I get ocular migraines-I've mentioned that here before-but it's hard to express how the unceasing marriage of eyes to back lit screen can lead to frightening results. Deliberately disobeying my eye doctor's instructions because I become so deeply engrossed in the story is both irresponsible and foolish. I have one pair of eyes in this lifetime, and I must start being the best steward of them possible.

I have learned that I am capable of a tremendous output when motivated by external deadlines. I've learned writing first person point of view comes from a minty-fresh, underused portion of my brain only previously accessed by writing this blog. Oh, and I've learned that listening to the male British accent to immerse myself in character is akin to a chocolate eclair on a diamond-encrusted platter of inspiration.

Going subterrainean again. Take care of yourselves and each other while I'm hanging with the Brit.

On Randy Blokes and Nebulous Vapors

So the hot guy at Thriller Beach turned out to be British. Who knew? For me, it marks the first time a character has opened his mouth for a line of dialogue and had an accent. Initially, I fought it. What intimate knowledge do I have of that accent save my summer crush the year I was an exchange student in Europe? Will I be leaning heavily on Harry Potter? This bloke, he was persistent. So here we are. Luckily there are some great online sources for British slang. A complete and total admiration for Matthew Goode and the Inbetweeners helps, too.

You may have noticed I suspended the grow-the-blog efforts. Deadlines can derail the best-laid plans. Guess that means launching into Facebook waters isn't necessary. At least, not yet. Can you see the smile erupting on my face?

On a sad note (or happy note, depending on who you are), International Time Travel Day winner Ingeborg has yet to come forward and claim her prize. If Ingeborg ever wants to claim it, I'd be happy to send out a second copy of Love, Texas Style. It's all about the love here, isn't it? So, via random.org, Denise Z. is the winner. Congrats, Denise! la-mitchell@la-mitchell.com to let me know where to ship your copy.

When will you hear from me again? For a short time, I'll be a bit like a vapor. Transparent and nebulous but still around when you least expect. Hopefully, without the stink. Plumbing has yet to be installed on Thriller Island.

Have a great week, everyone!