“A metaphor is the act of the imagination, figuring one thing to be another.” Lord Kames. This wonderful quote kicked off an urge in me, to find some tips on metaphors. I scoured my how-to-write books only to discover, not much is said about them. Odd. I consider metaphors to be the life blood of an authors work. A great metaphor, allegory, simile - they’re all limbs from the same body, can carry your piece. They can give it tone, vision, atmosphere and when they go wrong, they can sabotage all three of these things. Here’s some rules to keep in mind - * Metaphors need to relate to your subject - Although in themselves, metaphors are a juxtaposition, a jumbling of an unrelated object to another - such as when Edgar Allen Poe says The past is a pebble in my shoe - remember that time and place are important. His metaphor is timeless but lets tweak it, say I'm still writing in Poe’s era , the 1800s, could I than say - The past is a pebble in my Reebok? No, I couldn’t. But it would be fine in a modern novel. * Metaphors should relate to your characters - Would a tween say “I feel like a tax write-off.” Probably not- they don’t know what a tax write-off is. But a guy with his overbearing blind date, ( who has just yanked the bill out of his hand ) might. Keep your characters interests, social status, personality in mind before creating one. * No Mixing - metaphors are like placing one image over another to highlight the initial object and give it a fresh vision. Imagine likening a big old Cadillac to a boat, rocking it’s way through the current of traffic to the coast. You can’t jam another image in there without confusing the reader. If you suddenly say - The big old boat of a Cadillac rocked through the traffic towards the coast where it plowed up the beach like a tank storming Normandy - the reader goes say what? What is this a car or a transformer? It was a boat and now it’s a tank. Here’s another metaphor to describe what goes on when you mix your metaphors - Imagine you, the author, are a witness - describing a criminal to the police sketch artist ( the reader ) as he is poised to add up all the info you’ve given him, you start waffling - He had ears like mini satellite dishes yeah, yeah, real elf ears. The sketch artist will go hold on! Are they elf ears or satellite dishes? Don’t be stubborn and say both. The reader will toss you out of there and pick up someone with better vision. Don’t mix. Keep your initial vision clear. Okay that’s basically it for the rules - now on to the good stuff. How to cultivate a Metaphor. * First things first - you have to plant metaphor seeds. Seriously. All a metaphors is, is a substitute image - likening one thing to another. The easiest way to generate oodles of comparisons is to start filling up your brain with images. Pictures, visuals are the easiest things to relate to because that’s exactly what’s going on in writing, you write a word which paints an image in the readers mind. Say I write - Green Pear - you can hardly stop the image from appearing. Scour the internet for images - Gather things pertaining to the earth, to animals, to houses and architecture, to tools and appliances. To pop culture and art. To history and space. To toys and nostalgia. To machines and vehicles and...and.. You get the picture. Go to the library - buy their discard books - like wildflower or gem guides, scan the local thrift stores for National Geographics - a superb mix of social studies and wildlife. Remember even if it’s dated - it can still spark off relevant comparisons. * Have a fresh outlook - when you look for images be diverse - don’t think well I’m not writing a fantasy so I won’t look up castles. That’s a problem, you’re thinking a castle image is only pertinent to fantasy - however a castle image could be the key to a story about a disillusioned housewife who is hardly living a dream life and baking cookies using castle cookie cutters. This could revolutionize the whole scene. Don’t label ideas or items - that in itself is a sheer cliche buster - spooky doesn’t have to be a creepy old house, cobwebs, and crypts. It can be anything if you have the vision for it. Don’t just look at objects and see them as they are, but as what they could be, and have been. A good way to explore this is go to a sell sight like Ebay - type in something like Chinese Blossom and all kinds of diverse objects will come up. I looked up matadors the other day and came up with a drinking cup made from a bull’s horn - interesting image! And something I never would have thought of. * Images are all fine an dandy but knowing about the image is a huge bonus - A picture of a rose is beautiful and can spark metaphors for tightly wound inner layers, - a rose-within-a-rose-within-a-rose, to it’s color, down to it’s sharp thorns. But that doesn’t help for the scent of a rose, field work or gathering some funky history about your object is a must. That way you can surprise your reader with a rose petal jam metaphor - It was as pretty and fragrant and flavorless as a spoonful of grandma’s rose petal jam. Learn the science of objects, learn their history. * Study metaphor rich poets - it will help you discover the lyrical beauty of a metaphor - read them out loud, hear harmony of syllables. This is wonderful for creating quick, precise and often elegant metaphors.
I don't know anything about poetry. I read it, don't really get it. Especially the rules. It always feels intimidating. Wrote one - Grummot the other day and posted it and decided to try another one. It's old-fashioned. Here it is - Don't know if the last part works. World of you Cast off the covers of night-sky bliss, Chest rise as my morning sun. On horizon of silken flesh, Velour cheek singeth ; life begun. Fingertip journey round caverns wing, lips whisper into caverns cove. Speak only of secret things tangled love that thee have wove. Fantail feathers lift as wedded veil, on magic orb, er wishing well Dive in through mirror skin , drown to the doubts, I surrender to thy spell.
One tip I’ve culled from most writing manuals is the art of observation. That’s taking a notebook - going out there into the field of life and scribbling notes. No earphones! And though, it’s good tip, sometimes the would-be writer ( moi ) will find herself with notebook after notebook of endlessly vague descriptions - sexy lady in red dress, fat woman eating french fries. Guy with a spider web tattoo on elbow. Squirrel eating a nut. Smell of fresh cut grass , breeze through oak trees. Noisy kids playing on playground. Blah! This really isn’t helpful. It’s seeing but not really observing. For instance everyone at the park will see a squirrel eating a nut. And if you write it down as that , you haven’t pushed yourself. What’s really going on? What is the squirrel doing? Is he taking the peanut in his paws turning it - ah - A squirrel cartwheeling a peanut in his paws - maybe it's overblown but heck, it's original. Get away from labels - fat , sexy, gorgeous, ugly, plain. What makes a Plain Jane, anyway? What makes someone gorgeous? Sit in a busy coffee shop, a cafeteria, a Mcdonalds restaurant and start observing people without summing them up in a label. Describe them. Keep clothing brief - it should only help to define the person - for instance - I watched a young mother push a baby carriage into Mcdonalds the other day, she was slim, tanned with long dark hair and a haughty sort of gaze. Not exactly pretty. Her lips were thin and unsmiling and she had a vague, still-hung-over tiredness about her. Good golly ruching. Up and down the sides of her tight, strapless dress with a zipper that ran the entire, brief length, from midback down to just below her bum. If she ever bent to touch her toes, she’d moon the entire restaurant. When her baby started fussing she told him to “can it.” This gives you so much - you don’t have to tell us this young mom was sorta pretty, sorta trashy, sorta mean - the reader can pick it all up - it’s a breadcrumb trail. Also, try and leave your baggage at home - this isn’t a laugh riot to snark on people, even as I’m swaying the reader to feel a certain way about her - hold back a bit. See through other peoples eyes without dismissing them - it will help to create a world populated with characters who don’t just echo one another. Like every’s quirky or cool, but look I’ve got the token nerd or tramp. They’re just people, they’re real. Getting out in the field can also help cure you of that urge to create movie-star characters. I’m hugely guilty of this - I love a goodlooking hunk. I like gorgeous heros. Unfortunately, I’m discovering hey, sometimes gorgeous people aren’t that interesting. Think about it. People are usually so ga-ga over them, that a hero need only to appear to get what he wants. Flaws help create obstacles and are more relatable to the reader. Force yourself to examine couples holding hands and especially if you’re saying what do these uglies see in each other? - look hard - find beauty in someone you’d normally find unappealing - on the flipside - find something repellant about someone you’d normally find attractive. Start to redefine beauty - it will help uproot cliches. And you can start fresh with your characters. Conversations - ditch the ipod, put away the phone no texting - start listening in. I know it sounds rude but it’s fascinating. Plus when you target total strangers you’re going in with a clean slate. If you try this out with friends you may tend to zone out certain people, writing so-and-so off as a total spaz. If you don’t do the bar thing try - a church supper, a local fish fry, a Starbucks or Tim Horton’s, Fast Food restaurants, a bus stop - especially when kids get off - only be careful you don’t look like a total weirdo - lol! I heard Nabokov rode around on American school buses when he was writing Lolita to get an idea of how kids talked. Write the conversations down listen to what’s been said , whats not being said, facial expressions, body language. It will be like a puzzle because you don’t know these people but you’ll judge them on this moment alone - sort of like your readers will judge your characters on one scene. Setting - the oddity about setting is our hero could walk through a forest and not know one single, friggin flower - to him it’s a field of flowers - they’re yellow, blue, purple and red. But as a writer - it’s important we know. Because the reader wants to leave the book not just having been somewhere but has been informed about this place - you’re like a tour guide. Tour guides are supposed to be a fount of knowledge and if you’re still adorning your meadows with flowers time to do some research. One is of course to get out in a field and start jotting things - but this could leave you with some surreal images; star shaped mauve flowers staggered up a stalk, little bitty flowers shaped like champagne cups. Investing in used flower guides or gardening books is actually a good idea - so is used decorating books - even old ones can serve a purpose. Visit a nursery that sells flowers. Look, touch, smell. Jot stuff down. Ask questions -like what’s your top seller. What’s over looked. What smells the best. Look at catalogs and magazines and watch the trends in home decor. Walk through a Home depot. Walk through a used clothing store. And not that you want to be caught sniffing an old couch - but it does spark an idea of what a home could smell like. Avoid being too stiff. Unless your characters are perfectionists or industrialists a home should be a home that reflects an INTERESTING character. Mix and match old and new. Peek into a restaurant you’ve never been too. Go to open houses. Just like people don’t make snap judgements - this house is a dump - only frustrates the reader - he came to see the dump. Describe it. Feel it. Walk through flea markets, garage sales and thrift stores sometimes an item can help kick off a scene. You may take a dress off a hanger and laugh - who would caught dead in this monstrocity - let your imagination flow - this could be the character to add some dazzle to your story. A fondue pot could spark a humourous dinner scene. Buy an Lp with some music you normally wouldn’t listen to. Be the artist Aristotle describes - 'The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance.' Word choices trigger emotions and they’re the rudder that will steer your story to it’s proper port. Don’t be caught adrift! The other day - I kicked up my observations a notch. I was sitting in the car waiting for a friend to come out of a store and watched these girls who happened to come to the strip mall - here’s the scene I could've wrote Four girls -one fat , one wearing off shoulder top - and two skinny younger ones meet under strip mall overhang, they're shouting loud, asking about some boy named Brian and hating on the younger girls mother - it's vague kinda lifeless. But here's the final scene. This young girl exits a Variety store, tugging along a small jack russell mix. I think the girl is eleven or so - I’m getting older - I can’t tell ages anymore, kids look like giants now! Her loose shiny hair is peculiar - looks as though she dunked a ponytail into a vat of Sun-in; the roots and three inches down are silver-brown. She’s wearing denim shorts and an off the shoulder striped top. The stripes are Popsicle green. She comes out of a store carrying something and shouting - “Giselle! Giselle!” Screaming under the overhang of the strip mall. Three girls appear from the opening that allows the apartment dwellers behind the plaza to walk in through an alley, rather than circle around to the street. One girl is older, heavy wearing a too tight black top that keeps rising over her belly. Her black eyeliner is thick as crayon rimming dark eyes that sizzle, her mouth barely smiles. It’s an effort to be cool. With a toss of her head she flicks the black sweep of bangs out of her eyes. The other two are younger- eleven year olds. One is thin and tiny, with an angular face n’ freckles, her hair is pulled tight into a smooth ponytail, while the other girl is just as thin and tiny, but with long dark hair. “Where were you?” The screamer continues at the top of her lungs. “I went to your place. Where did you go?” “Looking for you stupid.” Giselle begins throwing up her arm. “We told you we’d meet you -” “We had to stop at Cara’s.” They’re talking over top of one another. The screamer whose name could be Alice dashes over to them tugging her dog. She gives one of the girls a quick hug from the side. The girl grins. The girl with the long dark picks up the dog and cuddles him to her cheek - “Hey Jack, hey Jack, hey Jack. ohhh good doggy. I love your dog.” “Anyone seen Brian?” Alice asks. “I’ve been looking for him everywhere.” she sounds as though she’s hunting an errant husband. The dark haired girl stops kissing the dog to offer - “Yeah I seen him earlier - ” “When did you guys meet up? You didn’t meet up without me did you?” Alice has forgotten Brian for the moment, now she sounds wounded. She yanks the wrapper off a push pop and tosses it wily-nily. So much for all those environmental classes the schools push. “We met Giselle in the park. She can’t come to my place. My mother doesn’t want me to hang out with her cause she’s thirteen.” She turns to Giselle and adds with a sticky, apologetic smile. “I think she doesn’t like you.” Giselle’s eyes slit. She’s like an ogre next to this dainty, little freckled fairy. “Well I don’t like your mother.”She snaps. “If fact, I’ve never liked your mother.” Cara shoots the dark haired girl an uh-oh look. Dark haired girl snuzzles the dog and looks away - you’re on your own. “It’s not like she hates you, she thinks your, like, ya know a bad influence.” Adding quickly. “I don’t know where she gets that...
Thunderbolt Collie got hisself a roomie yesterday. Some white boy. Short, thin, got pretty blonde hair but a big, ugly-ass scar runs jagged cross his face like a thunderbolt. Nearly spoilt his good looks. Only nearly, cause Rudy-T an his gang a’ hussies, well they just don care bout stuff like scars or tats or nothing. All they see is that nest of blonde curls toppin’ that pretty little head and soon some brick-red hand is gonna swoop down into that nest and make it’s home there. Meeger bets two packs a’ smokes that hand will belong ta Rudy-T , Collie, who think mebbe he’d like to keep that fine piece o’ sugar , bet first on hisself with a great whoop, showing a gold front tooth - large as a doggone toenail an just as jagged, then he switches, mebbe - Grotto, yeah he stick with Grotto. Grotto, he somehow get all the pretty ones. He got technique. Be nice one moment like a snake charmer, than blink o'eye, he got that snake round the neck, trapped in Grotto’s basket. Hehheh. Collie dub him Thunderbolt, heard his real name once , think mebbe it were something watery, a no good name like Alan. But with eyes that hurl through you like a sickle, he need some biblical hammer of a name like Ezekiel - so Thunderbolt will do. Some just call him Goldilocks , or Goldfish or Scar but when those icicle blue-eyes hit them , a name like Goldilocks fade like memory of a woman’s kiss. He be a Thunderbolt. Never mind that he slim , an pretty. Collie’s sittin’ at the caf table got one arm wrapped round his tray , though nobody stupid enough to steal even a wandering glance from Collie, let alone a fast scoop. He eat kinda dainty. Little spoonfuls , chewing with his huge eyes rolled up like elephant egg marbles , today he be thoughtful. “I seen me Thunderbolt before , can’t place where. But ooh it buggin’ me. It stuck in there like a froze movie , with some star grinning his teeth at ya an’ his name is floating away on a bubble - eh? You know.” Collie say this with mouthful of mashed po-taters. Some slid off his gold tooth and it look like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. “Saw him take out an ‘natomy book from the library yesterday. Think that fish like to look a’ naked folk without their skins on?” Collie ‘ad seen that book. Point to the page with the hang dog pecker on it to rile Thunderbolt, den he say “looky here, I see what interest you, now. Hehheh.” But Thunder-B don rile so easy. Collie haf to try harder. “Here, he comes now. You tell him Collie , no-white ass punk sits at this table. Tell him.” Josiah points his spork at Collie, real serious. Thunderbolt got his head down , not meek , but watchful, like wary dog , he in lead wit’ other cons winding through the maze of tables, but they fall away , filling empty spaces on benches till there’s only Thunder-B left. Collie waves to Thunderbolt. “What you want to be so mean for, gotta be friendly. He, my roomie. Might come in handy.” Collie grin an’ give a hearty chuckle. Yeah , mebbe, he could be trading Thunderbolt for a carton of smokes or home brew. Hehheh. Thunderbolt drops his tray on table, drops hisself down on bench , don look at the cons round ‘im with skin as dark an shiny as shoe-polish. He hook a finger in his mashed taters and put it in his pretty mouth. “Hol’s Pen?” Collie starts. “No.” Thunderbolt turns his slice of bread like record to see label , picks it up then takes big bite. Butter smears on his lips like gloss. Rudy-T takes notice from a table yonder and blows him a lil’ kiss. “Musta been State , State pen.” “Never been to jail. I told you that before.” “How’d you get that nasty scar than whitebread? Hmm?” “They got knife fights in suburbia now?” Meeger say like he’s talking about cable t.v., his eyes shining with mirth. He’s funny. Hehheh. Everybody laughin. “Lemme guess some volvo-driving, manicure-flashing, big shit catches a little shit like you, humping his platnium-card- carrying wife, and cuts you up.” “No.” Thunderbolt is one cool cuke. “C’mon aren’t we roomies. You can tell ole’ Collie. We sharin. ‘Bout all we got. Eh? Swapping da shit. Heh.heh.” “It’s shoot the shit.” Thunderbolt corrects. “Be friendly, Thunder-B. I’s friendly who tells ya not to walk down past Hurky and his boys on way to the store or he’ll jack yer shit. Who tell ya not to take shower near Rudy-T huh? Who tell ya how he got here, an show ya snaps of my most, beautiful ma - huh? You best be friendly Bolt or I gon sell you to Rudy-T for a carton. Eh? Mighty temptin. Now, you gon tell us , how you got that scar.” Thunderbolt’s still chewing his veggie-supreme, still sipping his kool-aid. Threats roll off him , like beads a water in the shower , like the whistles followin those beads a water in the shower room , from the likes of Rudy-T. “I did it misself.” “Yourself!” Collie a tree knocked by a sudden squall but then he rights himself with both plump hands on table to brace for ‘nother blow. “Why you wanna cut yerself? Mess up that pretty face. You outta yer head, Thunder-B?” “Some crazy-ass woman.” Meeger mutters. “It’s always a woman. Wouldn’t be in here if it weren’t for that - that lousy, stinkin whore- ” Gobs fall from Meeger’s mouth. He a mess. Collie stop lookin’ a him. Look back at his pretty roomie. “How come?” Now, Josiah’s looking at Thunderbolt different like. He got mebbe respect, for this white-boy that cut up his own face, an nearly spoilt his looks. Somethin psycho ‘bout that. Josiah got to admire that, they kindred motherfs ,now, cuz psycho be stamped all over his shrink-form. Or so he says. Nobody really see Josiah as psycho , least he no crazier than anyone else you don mess with. “I was angry.” “Hhhrmph. Never cut my own face jus cause I’s angry.”Collie stirs the last little bit of mashed taters before scooping em up and putting them in his mouth.“ Cut up fella who made me angry , not misself. Hhhrmph.” He have last say cause he get no argument, most everyone ‘gree with Collie, don nobody understand Thunderbolt. Not a’tall. Late that night, Collie swing his leg , which resemble huge cut of beef , and thumps his foot under the top bunk where Thunderbolt trying to sleep. “What?” Thunderbolt sounds miffed n’ muffled. He got that pretty head o’ his under a pillow , agin. “You don’t sound very friendly Thunder-B. You don know roomie etiquette. You s’poused to say , evening Collie, what’s up.” “What the hell do you want.” Now if Collie be a good roomie , he’d pull Thunder-B down off his top bunk and shake ‘im till all those smart-ass comments fly out o his head an never come back. That’d learn ‘im. But Collie, he thinks mebbe ,got to be snake charmer to get his hand round this one. “Now, now that ain’t friendly like. Someone gonna think you real sourpuss , Thunder-B an give you ‘nother scar to add to your collection. You got ta learn to be sweet n’ sociable. Lets start with how come yer here. I told yous all bout my armed robbery. Now it’s your turn.” “You didn’t tell me all about it.” Thunder-B was really begging for a smack. He was downright scornful. “What?! You callin me a liar. You sayin I din’t buy no ski mask at K-mart , you saying I din’t go into the Royal Bank on Eastchester avenue with Harlan and Mack and stick a saw-offed shot gun in that ole lady’s teller’s face and watch the sweat jump out of her pores like I be waving a blow-torch, huh? You sayin I din leave there with twenty grand in a backpack an hop in a green Trino driven by cousin Ernie ,that shit-head, who crash us up on William street , and we spill out o’ there like rats from a garbage heap while them pigs be raining gunfire on our ass.” Collie shape his fingers into guns, he’s shooting at the top bunk. He need to catch his breath cuz he’s all outta ammo. His lungs heave like bellows. “You’re pissin’ me off , roomie.” he grumbles. “Sorry.” “Your ever shoot rats in a garbage heap?” “No.” “Betcha you never kill nothing in yer whole life.” “I’m in for manslaughter.” “Eh? You! Ha!” “It’s true. I killed a man. A lawyer.” “Well, heh heh. A lawyer, eh? In your wet dream, Thunder-B. In your wet dream!” He rolls in his mirth, feeling cozy. His roomie a murderer. Ha. He was the murderer, not Thunder-B. “Did I eva tell you Roomie ‘bout my mama. How she believe God’ll throw thunderbolts, javelin style, at anyone who gets ‘way with murder. Law don getcha , God will.” Collie got smirk in his voice. He laugh now, it come up from deep down like a roll a thunder, isself. Considering Collie been in jail four times and one for manslaughter already, Collie thinks this big pile a hooey. Don care what Thunderbolt think. But Thunder-B he offer anyhow, “Mebbe he will, Mebbe he won’t.” “You got a pretty voice Bolt, Betcha you wer’ one of them - whatchacallim? Them boys in church carrying candles and wearing nightgowns.” “Altar boys.” “Eh-ya!” Thunderbolt likes music, plays the guitar , dabbles with this n’ that- can play anything, Collie believe this like gospel. He worked in a music store ‘fore he get his stretch. Collie believe this too. He made hisself a ukelele from a kleenex box and a bunch rubber bands. Kid stuff, but he can pluck a tune and nine times outta ten , if Collie knows the song, he guess right away what is it. Call Thunderbolt his canary bird. Collie play picture in head of music-store Thunder-B wearing three button shirt that hug his long , fine torso. Show off that sea-foam of chest hair. Oh, an a belt. Collie, be generous. Looped through his jeans, no slacks, cause he got legs like a swimmer. Ass like the bongo drum that somehow show up in Collie’s picture. But Thunder-B is cradling a gleaming guitar. Long fingers wrapped around the neck, pressing cords like they veins, a pulse waitin to throb , he pluck it, gives it life - hear it...
How do I find the Perfect Book? Usually I don’t - there’s no great book divining rod , no game caller to shout out - your hot , your cold , basically it’s a pick of the cards. But after a recent spree in a used book store, I sat down to figure out my book picking habits. Or why do I choose the things I do. Occasionally I’ll go by word of mouth , though I was never an Oprah pick fan. Shivers of delight don’t roll down my spine when I find a book with an Oprah’s choice emblem ,which reminds me of those 90's video store staff pick shelves, always good for a warning - remind me never to ask Steve’s opinion on a movie. I’ve never been much of a joiner so those things usually put me off, even when I see a Stephen King blurb extolling the talents of a new writer, I can only think , lets hope his endings are better than yours. The word of mouth thing, though is usually in reference to another book - I’m the type of person that when the band wagon comes rolling round and everyone’s jumping on, I kind of go what’s that noise , what’s all the commotion. By the time I’ve figured out what’s going on the hoopla is kaput. I didn’t run out and read a Million Little Pieces or Harry Potter , But I did read Sarah by J.T. Leroy , after it was mentioned in Entertainment Weekly. And when he was later exposed as a fraud I wasn’t all that surprised. I just laughed , what suckers us readers can be! My favorite hunting grounds is this great used bookstore - It’s labyrinthine, packed into a musty old house , each room gutted for a special section , floor to ceiling shelves , stacks in front of shelves , wavering stacks , every time I’m in there I hear the avalanche of a stack falling - hands grope to catch it in time , they fall just like a rock slide with one lingering book that topples long after the rest have landed like a wait-for-me- trailing behind boulder. With that in mind , my options of finding the book , the search for the perfect book are narrowed. A spine alone has to intrigue me , has to yoo-hoo call to me. This isn’t easy. Do I go by color - that has happened. A vintage book on the history of Bosie , Oscar Wilde’s ahem friend was a lovely mauve and caught my eye. Sometimes it’s a title - Slanguage , Feminist in the Dark, The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby, sometimes size does count - Movies and Methods was such a cereal box wedge that I had to have it or even a ridiculously tiny cube, nothing more than a stream of conscious list- 14,000 things to be Happy About. Sometimes even the publishing logo will flag me down - this especially happens when I’m seeking out books for my 80's ya series collection and I swoop down upon a First Love From Silhouette like a lost and found heirloom. Or maybe it’s just another Zebra Horror , or Taschen art book. Then there’s the authors - oh ho! An entire row of Nabokov books - Pale Fire , Invitation to a Beheading , The Eye , Pnin, Despair , Laughter in the Dark, Transparent Things , The Gift all in a little bookshop loaded with pricey beatnik treasures. I can’t resist A Picture on the Wall as well , I spill my loot onto the counter feeling like pirate with his first mighty haul. Another bookstore another time - an entire row of J.G. Ballard, end of the world paperbacks. Couldn’t get enough of those. High Rise, Concrete Island , The Crystal World , The Drowned World , The Burning World , The Drought - awk I’ve been tricked - the Burning World and The Drought are one and same - oh, why did he have to go and get serious and win prizes , couldn’t he linger in the land of what if? There were so many apocalypses yet unturned - freezing and jellifying and liquifying. That brings me to subjects - a huge quest for books pertaining to color and jewels or horror stories with hero’s stalked by lunatics in the woods, prairie romances, beatnik bios, a vintage guide to Baton Twirling. But all that of course takes time. I can spend hours in the bookstore crawling on hands and knee , shifting stacks of books like Jenga towers to find something of interest. I’ll pull books at random scan the blurb - but more often than not I scan the inside. This is where I get a little peculiar - most often I don’t read the first paragraph , I flip. If the book uses an extensive variety of words , I’ll buy it. Odd , huh? If it’s too low key for my taste - then I’ll go back to the blurb and see if the subject has caught my interest. I’ve found many an interesting book this way , books I would’ve skipped due to the back blurbs rather hohum description - case in point - The Girl in the Photograph by Lygia Fagundes Tells. Wow. The prose is jaw-dropping good. But to boil down the story with a description, it’s like describing Moby Dick as a story about a big fish - like , whoopee. Not exactly inspiring a wallet reach-for. That’s my usual method for literature or general fiction but with genre I’m more la-dee-da. Sometimes a cover will nab me -a man carrying a female robot, like a bride over a threshold with a rose clamped in her iron teeth - must have, but most often it’s the plot. Marauding rats descending upon the survivors of a bombed world - how could I not snatch up James Herbert’s Domain? However, new books are a whole new crapshoot. The cover art is much more symbolic , provocative - what exactly does this one promise I ask myself noting the doll-likeness to Mark Ryden. I move gingerly , take my time, unfortunately - they’re more pushy in the local Chapters - there is no crawling around on my hands and knees or skim-reading a chapter or two. Someone is always on the lookout for a potential buyer and she'll swoop down on you like some 18 century peddler, the only thing missing is a gi-normous bell to ring with her crowing Books for sale , lovely , lovely books for sale. Only last week I made my pick, We the Drowned by Carsten Jensen, when one of the ‘helpful’ staff darts over. She picks up a glossy paperback , and says in a conspiratorial manner , “These are on sale right now , all three for only...” She trails off as she holds up her book and I hold up mine. They don’t match. See , the problem is I’m next to the Fifty Shades of Porn display - which are everywhere mind you, and she assumed I was ready to ride the bandwagon. I’m not. She backs up real fast , practically apologizing. I say no problem - but in my head I’m thinking - go away , I’m a big girl , I can blunder through my book buying with out any help. I’ve got the towering , double stacked shelves to prove it.
( Before I get a razzbery for focusing on film - take note most of Hitchcock’s films are adapted from books - some of which are by top notch authors like Patricia Highsmith , Daphne DuMaurier , John Steinbeck and Robert Bloch. ) As an experiment, I decided to sift through some Hitchcock films to see how he handled his stories. I decided to stick with 15 movies even leaving off some good ones ( including his oscar winner Rebecca. ) to keep focused. But these show a good range of how he dealt with plot twists , story lines , formula , even some flubs. *** Warning - If you’ve never watched Hitchcock films this deals with major spoilers **** 1. Family Plot -the intertwining plot - Interesting mystery has two dueling mc’s in two contrasting plot threads that eventually intersect. The first plot thread features Arthur and Fran, lovers , who kidnap men for ransom, payable by jewels, before retiring to their upscale home where they stash the loot in a chandelier. Fran frets over their 'career', while Arthur likes their life the way it is. The second plot thread features a phony medium , Julia, whose about to hit paydirt when a wealthy client asks her to find ( using her powers )a lost heir. The medium enlists the aid of her taxi-driver boyfriend , George posing as a pipe chomping , private eye. The characters fates eventually collide via mistaken identity , and irony giving this nifty set up some black humored punch. The same idea was used outside the venue of the thriller with Sleepless in Seattle. 2. Notorious - freshening up an old theme - the love triangle - There’s nothing more old hat , more dreary than yet another love triangle. But Notorious breathes life into these old bones with three characters whose true nature is hidden behind masks. To make up for her father’s traitor status , Alicia agrees to spy on the Nazi’s mainly because she has fallen for her recruiter Devlin. But Devlin learning Alicia will have to seduce Sebastian one of her father’s contacts , pretends indifference. Meanwhile Sebastian eagerly agrees to marry Alicia. There you have it a three way triangle in which each one is trying to con the other. Devlin is trying to hide his love in lieu of a loyalty to the cause, Alicia is trying to hide hers to risk getting her meanwhile pretending devotion to Sebastian and even though Sebastian might be the only one who really feels anything, he’s pretty quick to agree with disposing Alicia , and hides his Nazi activist status behind a veneer of suave elegance. 3. Strangers on a train - When the Hero resembles the villain - Guy the charming tennis pro bares more than a passing resemblance to Bruno the la-di-da madman in SOAT. ( which is a theme Patricia Highsmith uses in a great deal of her stories the hero is another shade of the villain or vice versa. ) When Bruno suggests they swap murders , Guy can’t help but be intrigued, he’s got a slutty wife who won’t give him a divorce which he needs in order to climb the next rung in his social ladder. I n fact Guy’s situation is more desperate than Bruno’s. But Guy’s images has been given the Hollywood polish , in the book my point is nailed home when Guy actually does murder Bruno’s father something that never occurs in the movie. The shading between them becomes not their mutual sin but their contrasting regard for it. While Guy is torn with guilt and remorse. Bruno is virtually unrepentant. 4. Psycho - killing off your main character - Is it okay to kill off your main character? Yes - But only if what follows, surpasses, what came before. Take Marion, Psycho’s main character whose starts the movie having a tryst in a dumpy motel with her boyfriend. They’re at a crux in their relationship , smothered by debt , bills, the past. Marion takes the opportunity to steal a large sum of money from the office where she works and runs. But her flight is mad hampered dash , till she finding herself caught in a downpour seeks shelter at the Bates motel. For now the story has been about Marion’s rash decision , and how she’ll get out of it. Will she be caught? Will she meet up with Sam? Should she turn herself in? But before the reader can reflect on any of this, she’s killed. By the proprietor, Norman Bates’, crazy mother. The reader’s goal vaults from resolving a theft to resolving a murder. The suspense has been boosted from Marion’s flight , to Norman’s protection of his daft mother. The character exchange has been a gain, not a loss with a whiz-bang shocker of an ending. 5. The Birds - the unexplained - In the Birds it’s never explained why our feathered friends attack. In Daphne DuMaurier’s novella the family speculated wether the attack was organized by the military , but in the movie the characters stay away from such frank ideas - theirs are more cosmic , more fairy tale, more Freudian. The main character Melanie is an aloof practical joker , whose intrigued when her recent prank bombs on a handsome decent lawyer , Mitch. Determined to start fresh , she buys a pair of love birds for his sister , and heads out to Bodega Bay to present them , the deed itself an elaborate prank. Rather than present them in person she sneaks them into the farm, leaving them alongside a note. Soon birds are swooping , diving , clawing through the town like sharks in a body of water. Nobody knows why by the speculations run rampant. An old drunk declares it’s the end of the world, another hysterical woman believes Melanie brought them, witchlike, cursing them all. And even the reader , could imagine that perhaps the birds are messengers of doom orchestrated by Mitch’s mother’s jealousy rather like Samantha Egar’s giving literal birth to her anxieties in The Brood. 6. Marnie - Psychological whosits - When the heroine behavior is a mystery , even unto herself or - Why do I do the Things I do. The book Marnie differs slightly from the movie paring down the cast of characters and actually ditching Mark’s popular brother. But I’ll focus on the movie which starts with our title character Marnie a thief , who blows threw jobs , alias’, and safes like a klepto in a candy store. Her life is dull and loveless, and the relationship with her cold mother is strained. Mark a handsome , young business owner , hires her knowing her to be a thief from a brief encounter at one of her previous ‘jobs.’ Allowing her to rob him , he now has the upper hand and blackmails her into marriage. However Marnie is far from cooperative and her morbid frigidity has him reaching for the psych books. Surreal hints drop like Hansel and Gretel crumbs leading to the showdown, with a flashback to Marnie’s past, in which all is unveiled. A top notch psychological mystery. 7. Lifeboat - Controversial ideas - Never a big hit , some believe it’s due to it’s claustrophobic title setting others think the cast wasn’t up to snuff. Than there’s the movie reviewers who might’ve hit the nail on the head - It was just too controversial for it’s own good. Over the credits a boat sinks - a torpedo victim of World War 2. A straggle of survivors pull themselves into a lifeboat already occupied by a husky voiced- mink swathed, rich reporter. The survivors appear to represent every American, at the time, from an easy-going hoofer ( dancer ), to nurse , to a mother with a dead baby , to a cigar chomping shipping magnet and a tattoo strewn, coke-stoker whose communist views bare an uncomfortable resemblance to the most controversial survivor, the German captain who bombed their boat. While the American’s bicker, remain disorganized and grow weaker , Willie, their enemy, captain’s their lifeboat , with the goal of rowing them to their doom , and his victory a German supply ship.Though the American’s manage to defeat this foe it’s only through mob violence and sheer numbers rather than rules or organization. Rule of thumb - Touchy subjects could touch off your audience. 8. Stagefright - lying to the reader - This bombed some say due to the eclectic i.e weird cast. Others attribute it to the outrageous twist. The story follows Jonathan a haplessyoung man whose affair with a vixenish actress, Charlotte, gets him framed for murder,when she asks his help in removing evidence, after she killed her husband. He’s caught at her residence with the body and flees, begging the help of his friend , actress wannabee Eve, who jumps at the intrigue. Going under cover as maid to Charlotte in order to find some evidence to save Jonathan , she falls in love with detective Ordinary Jones. The film comes to a head when Eve runs and hides with cornered Jonathan only to discover , that he is the killer. Flashbacks dishing up the ‘Truth’ were actual lies. The flaw with this story , and a note to keep in mind when pacing a story with a twist, is that when your ‘hero’ ( Jonathan ) disappears for half the story , and is denied the romance angle - the viewer can guess that he’s not the hero but the psychotic killer. 9. The Lady Vanishes - humor - Hitchcock always had a sly sense of humor and uses it to great effect in this movie which fluctuates between intrigue , mystery and laughs. While this could’ve been an ordinary spy thriller it’s given a buoyant boost by using humor to derail our sense of detection. The story starts with an eclectic bunch of travelers stranded on their way home to England pre World War 2 . It’s quick with the comedy to pan over the characters and keep everything light - Our heroine is a freewheeling upscale young woman whose having one last hurrah before she marries. Her ‘love’ interest is a quirky young man who collects folk songs - both argue, bicker and flirt. This is to put us...
Okay , I have a pretty good vocabulary. Note the stellar use of pretty good. I mean not anyone could just come up with that, they would use a word like tolerable or acceptable but me I toss out pretty good. Well anyhow - this pretty good vocab of mine can stand up to most of my reading but when I get to Nabokov - yeesh, he’s got me running for the dictionary. But , I have to admit - I love it. I love a challenge , I love discovering new words. I love his cocktail mix. And while reading the wonderfully bizarre - Invitation to a Beheading... HERE’S THE ONES THAT HAD ME RUNNING FOR THE DICTIONARY Convexity - raised curves. I know , I know this should’ve been easy but it’s the vex that threw me, I was off imagining a twisting vortex - something more complicated than the context required. Sough - sigh. What an odd one - looks like some object you’d find in a farm-wife’s kitchen. Coeval - contemporaries Right off I was thinking of a baby deer or a baby something with nubby horns and colt legs. Upsilamba - one of Nabokov’s coinages Sounds like a college fraternity with it’s own rah rah, upsilamba, chant. Mottles - blotches. Now, you could be going - seriously? Mottled - you’ve got mottled up there - everyone knows what mottled is ( only secretly you could be checking your dictionary thesaurus, touching finger to filtrum, just to be sure ) yes, mottled means blotches, duh. Well, I want to be absolutely sure. I had an inkling it had something to do with splotches or dots or speckles or spots - he’s very fond of the word mottle especially when it pertains to sunlight. Hauberk - medieval coat of armor Actually , given it’s context I guessed this one. Indefatigable - inexhaustible Never would’ve guessed this one - looks like a promise on a Dexatrim package - in three weeks you’ll be indefatigable. Purling - chirp or gurgle Knit one , purl two was the first thing that came to mind , second a purling kitten. And no, the kitten wasn’t knitting. Iambic - to do with poetry For some reason I thought it had something to do with music. Nictitating - winking I recalled this from Lolita but forgot it’s context and was thinking it had something to do with tongue-clucking - you know - tsk tsk. Pedagoguette - female teacher I looked this up just to be sure - but having heard of ped from such news-at-eleven tags like pederasty and pedophile that the initial ped was Greek for child and in it’s context that it meant children’s teacher. But I looked it up just to be sure. Interesting syllables - unfortunately it conjures images of pagodas and usherettes and shoes ( keds, pegaboo , clogs ) anything but a teacher! Hirsute - hairy Sounds like a German salute - I think I prefer in the context hairy hands to hirsute hands. But hirsute sounds so refined. Veracity - truth Just checking. Does that count? Salutary - Promoting health A salute? - this was a tricky one - especially when linked up with it’s noun - tears. Salutary tears. Love that. Wow. Flotilla - small fleet of ships. Given the context flotilla of tea leaves I was guessing something lily pad-ish. Torpor - drugged stupor I guessed , and checked - I was right! Parallelogram - a shape ( I'm not describing it - too long ) What a whopper. Lovely to say though. But the meaning was a bit of a disappointment considering it’s lovely yo-yo syllables - it should’ve been some futuristic, valentine delivery service. Spelean - of a cave or cave like Strangely enough I just finished a short story in which my character mentions spelunking - but given Nabokov’s context spelean water in a pitcher, I was thinking more along the grosser lines of spittle. Which actually would’ve made for an interesting, if disgusting, image of comparing his water pitcher to a spittoon. Dissemble - mask or cover under a false pretense. Unfortunately , years of 80's movies confused this for me, with Short Circuit’s cry of “No disassemble!” Coulisses - a space that fits between two flats as in a theater stage. Given the context Nabokov could’ve went with crevice - until of course one gets to the end and sees this odd word choice fits perfectly. Macules - blotches Again with blotchy alternatives. Vespertine - Night blooming. Lovely connotation. Integument - skin , shell , husk. Given the context I’ll take a stab - likeness? - not even close. Venerable - old but noble I was thinking easy to veneer. He was a laquerable old man. Oh yuk, Yuck. Logarithm - mathematical formula A sound an instrument makes? Root word for loganberry? Now I’m grasping at straws. Or as Nabokov might say - I was grasping at jipijapa. Tympanum - drum or drumhead ??? Houri - seductive woman Considering it was a carving on a pipe I didn’t have too many options though I knew it was mythological. And the rest - meerschaum , bream , goffered , talus , rampart , samovar , perambulation, halberd, lambent, plafond, stillicide, interlocutress, carceral - which in turn made me think of - Beerbohm , the sound a blender makes , when a gofer pranks you , talon-like , the part of ramp, Indian cuisine , a fall down a hill , a type of duck , reclining , a curious object for a curio cabinet , dead of night , a female gate-crasher , and surreal cars. Which had I kept any of these confusing images it might’ve made the book even more bizarre than it was!
Bought a vintage Queen-sized Gothic book at a flea market last week and read it a few days later. Don’t laugh. It’s kinda like sneaking a Snickers chocolate bar after a diet of high-grade stuff ( think Nabokov ), a total guilty pleasure but not a complete loss as I did manage to hone some inadvertent tips from it. The author Dana Ross aka William Ross had this annoying habit of tagging his characters with blurb-like traits, for instance there are three main characters, other than the heroine Judith - Dr. Travis Wood , his son, Dr. Martin Wood, and Martin’s daughter, Betsy Wood. When Dr. Travis Wood is introduced, he is described as an aristocratic man with thinning gray hair but least you forget, don’t worry, for many of his speech tags he becomes - the gray-haired man, or the gray-haired doctor, or even the gray-haired surgeon. Over twelve times, he’s dubbed the old doctor , senior surgeon , old surgeon - as in the old surgeon said. This becomes increasingly annoying as another character pops up, a doctor as well, and he too is called the old doctor. Dr. Martin Wood fares the worst of the trio, first described as a young man with curly brown hair - he is than tagged - the young doctor - so many times, I lost count after 20. Once he was idiotically , described as the young man in gray pantaloons. Say what? As for little Betsy Wood she goes through mind numbing variations of the little golden-haired girl , as in the golden-haired little girl , or blonde Besty ( as opposed to what a dark haired Besty?! ) ,or the golden-haired girl ,even his golden-haired sleeping daughter. Ugh! It’s a little like reading vintage comic books promos, ah that caped crusader , that felonious fiend! This wasn’t just an issue for the main characters even the minor characters suffered the same fate. Just after Mr. Loring is introduced ( the second old doctor ) instead of repeating his name ( that’s obviously too boring ) instead, this lulu is attached to him - ‘the bald man with the black beard sighed.’ Considering there is only two people in the scene distinguishing him thus , only made things confusing. Brian Craig the love interest is usually always called Brian Craig or the Australian - even the heroine thinks of him in terms of Brian Craig like she reading from a stage play. And a creepy handyman Mr. Parker , who has one eye is later predictably dubbed - one-eyed Parker or the one eyed man. Even the others pay homage to this as Brian Craig ( still the full name status ) notices Mr. Parker has been spying on Judith and remarks I see Mr. Parker’s got his one eye on us. Yuk yuk. But Parker’s wife doesn’t fair much better she’s known as the heavy-lidded Mrs. Parker - both have eye issues , I see. The bad guy Timothy Dobbin has the subtle tag of that villainous Timothy Dobbin and with that moniker, he should be twirling the ends of his black moustache! Although most people could dismiss gothic romance as junk , I don’t. It’s genre fiction like anything else. I’ve read good gothic romances , this just wasn’t one of them. But it wasn’t just the character tags that sabotaged this read, it’s Dana Ross’s style in general. I felt as though he was talking down to the reader - oh I know you, idiot ladies, can’t remember that so-and-so’s old , that so-and-so is a doctor so, I’ll have my character talk like this - ‘“My examination of that body told me as a medical man the corpse couldn’t be more than an hour old.”’ As a medical man ... gee whiz with all those young doctor tags flying around I had practically forgotten he was one- not! As for the story itself , well after slogging through all those character tags , I found that this queen sized gothic should’ve been a junior. 100 pages could’ve been eliminated without any affect to the story. The action , what there was of it kept stalling out. The heroine had a couple of spooky attacks in the mansion , told everyone who would listen , was typically written off as a hysterical woman and found herself buried under a mountain of oh, so subtle hint droppings from every new character - that nobody had seen Martin’s wife buried. Gee, I wonder where this one’s going. Interesting to see that even published books - this one was published in 1973 , could have so many flaws. This is definitely going on my how-not-to-write list - 1. avoid annoying character tags. 2. Make every scene count. 3. Quite rehashing , you’re reader is not the idiot , you seem to think he is.