It’s here. My novella, “Matriarchal Nazi Cannibals,” is available for order at Amazon.com. It is is part of a double feature from Strigidae Publishing in one volume, teamed with the novella, “The Menacing of Julia,” by Adam Millard.
From the book jacket:
MATRIARCHAL NAZI CANNIBALS
by Jason Offutt
Hölle is a cute little town of 500, nestled in the half-forgotten hills of Missouri. The only industry still floating among the cluster of buildings is the meat packing plant…well that and Gretta’s cafe. Smiles from the townspeople are a little too broad…a little too lingering…and appear just a little too hungry.
Heidi Gottschalk and her friends hit town from the university hoping to finish a film project before the semester’s over. Stranded in Hölle, the friends find out just how lively the night life can be.
One of the biggest complaints from beginning writers – apart from “where are my groupies?” – is “I don’t know how to start my story.” This unforgiving reality is akin to the terrifying “what do my characters do next?” and “I’m out of beer, and my fingers can still find the right keys. I’d better go to the store.” These are all forms of Writer’s Block, that dark place that lurks in the periphery of a writer’s workspace. It’s the evil that keeps words off the page.
Sucks, huh?
I’m not going to lie to you. Every writer has this dark place. No exceptions. However, what separates the Author (ones who push through Writer’s Block to finish their story), and the Writer (ones who don’t) is that much like that leaky faucet in the bathroom, the Author has learned to live with it. Or, better yet, he’s learned to fix it.
I’m one of those who has learned to fix Writer’s Block (most of the time). Yep, fixed it myself, and I’ll tell you how in exactly nine paragraphs.
First, let’s look at the different types of Writer’s Block. None is easier to overcome than the next, nor harder. Writer’s Blocks come in many forms, and they’re all complete dicks.
And how do we fix the problem? Yes, with extreme violence.
How do I start? There’s an idea. A great idea rolling around in that big noggin of yours. It may have just appeared. It may have been spinning recklessly downhill for years, gaining momentum (I had a character inside my head for twenty years before I finally let him out. He became the protagonist in my first novel). It doesn’t matter how long the idea’s been there, the problem is it doesn’t want to come out.
Sometimes starting a novel or short story is easy. The protagonist kills dragons. Okay, so start your story with the protagonist killing a dragon. None of this mucking around with him waking up in the morning to fix coffee. Get to the action. In my first novel, “A Funeral Story,” the character Deever Dickson (the one with the twenty-year incubation period) has sex with strange women he meets at funerals, so in Chapter One, bingo, he has sex with a strange woman at her Dad’s funeral. (It’s less awkward than it sounds. Okay. No, it isn’t.) The point is, get to the Point.
How do I start? Part 2. Every writer has a ritual. When I first started, my ritual was to write like mad, then whenever I felt like writing again I’d read what I’d written before, edit it, and by the time I finished, I didn’t feel like writing anymore. Oh, sometimes my favorite TV program was about to come on, or I had to use the bathroom, but the result was the same. After my first manic session of pounding words onto a page, I was stuck. I eventually had four 10,000-plus-word novel intros in my top desk drawer, and I no longer had interest in pursuing any of them. Fortunately, I realized something had to change. (How to defeat Writer’s Block coming in five paragraphs.)
King: If everybody’s dead the book just writes itself.
What do I do now? In the middle of a story – a good story, a worthwhile story, a story you may actually finish – a chasm opens, and the protagonist just stands there. Not because he can’t fall into the chasm. Not because he can’t grab that dangling vine. Not because he can’t pull himself up to safety, gripping the president’s nuclear football in his teeth, and saving the world from annihilation. It’s because you have no idea what he’s going to do. Characters develop a life of their own, and tend to do things you never planned. (That’s kind of scary. I’m sure most writers should be locked away for their own safety. Me included.) But sometimes even your most well developed character just won’t do anything. Nope. Not a damn thing.
So, what now?
If you’re an outliner (I’m not), this may not be a big problem. But for those organic writers, a good shake up might be in order. In an interview, Stephen King said he got stuck like this while writing “The Stand.” He resolved his problem by killing some of the main characters. It worked. “The Stand” is one of my favorite King novels. It’s also a good thing he writes fiction. I suspect people frown on this method in non-fiction.
Okay, so we’re nearly to the paragraph I promised. The paragraph where I tell you how to cure Writer’s Block. It’s a lot simpler than it sounds. It’s as Pavlovian as it gets, baby.
Papa Hemingway punching Writer’s Block in the face.
Writing is simply a habit – get into it. When I could no longer put off the fact that writing was something I had to do, I made a writing space. I went to that space at the same time every day (every day), had the same lighting, the same chair, the same beverage, the same background noise, the same sameness. Eventually when I sat at the same space, in the same chair, at the same time, my head knew we were writing. And you know what? It works. I haven’t had true Writer’s Block in at least eight years.
So, fellow Writers, give that a shot. And if your character still can’t move away from the side of that chasm, send a sidekick flying over the edge, or maybe a love interest, or both. It couldn’t hurt.
A soon-to-graduate student I’d never met walked into my office and asked for a few moments of my time. No problem. Any teacher who turns away a student is not really in it for the teaching. I’m not sure what they’d be in it for, although the summer vacations are better than botched vasectomy, that’s for damn sure.
Young writers not reading Truman Capote’s books gave him such a headache.
Although this student was going into the public relations field (can’t fault him for wanting to pay the bills), what he really wants to do is write. Specifically he wants to write narrative nonfiction. Good for him. Six of my books are narrative nonfiction. That genre is rewarding, fun, meaningful to readers, and the research is tax deductible. Thank you IRS (you don’t hear that every day).
My first question to him was, “Have you read Truman Capote’s ‘In Cold Blood’?”
He hadn’t.
Hmm.
There are certain books that define every genre, and if you want to write in that genre, you should probably read them. Surprise, surprise, people can learn from history. For what not to do, let’s turn to baseball.
George Brett. He dated the bat, but never took it to meet his parents.
In 1992, when Kansas City Royals future Hall of Famer George Brett chased his milestone 3,000th hit, an interviewer told Brett he’d just surpassed St. Louis Cardinals great Rogers Hornsby on the all-time hits list. Brett responded with, “Bruce Hornsby and the Range?” Really, George? As a major league player, you should have known enough baseball history not to confuse a Hall of Famer with a mediocre pop band. Nice work.
Don’t be like George. Know who came before you.
For pulp horror, try H.P. Lovecraft’s “At the Mountains of Madness.” For modern horror, Stephen King’s “The Shining” is a must.
If you want to try your hand at fantasy and haven’t read J.R.R. Tolkien’s “The Hobbit,” and “The Lord of the Rings,” or Michael Moorcock’s Elric series, you’re not doing yourself – or potential readers – any favors.
Humor? Douglas Adams’ “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” or Dave Barry’s “Babies and Other Hazards of Sex: How to Make a Tiny Person in Only 9 Months, with Tools You Probably Have around the Home” are good places to start.
If you want science-laden science fiction, the late Michael Crichton was the best. Just pick any one of his surprisingly easy-to-read volumes off the shelf at your local library. You won’t be disappointed.
For narrative nonfiction, like I suggested to the student, start with “In Cold Blood.” Capote dubbed his book a “nonfiction novel,” and it reads like such. However, it’s not. The book seamlessly weaves Capote’s and friend Harper Lee’s impeccable research into the murder of the Clutter family throughout the narrative giving the reader the sense they’re watching the events happen.
The point is, read. Once you’ve read the books that define your genre, read something else – anything else. If the writing is good, you’re going to learn something. I don’t write psychological thrillers, (I write the aforementioned horror, fantasy, science fiction, and humor), but the last few books I’ve read (and the best books I’ve read in a long time), are by Jillian Flynn (“Sharp Objects,” “Dark Places”), and Tana French (“In the Woods.” I’m angry about that book. More on that sometime later, but it’s a great read nonetheless).
So, writing students, my first advice to you on the Process is to pick up a book and turn the pages. I’m sure every writer I’ve mentioned (even the dead ones) would tell you the same thing.
Jason at The Angel Inn in the Highgate area of London, the pub where members of Monty Python’s Flying Circus used to work on their material while they got piss drunk.
Welcome to my site. Author’s websites are often an eclectic collection of essays/stories/blog posts, pictures of the author (usually in dark tones looking laughingly serious), and links where they shake you down for money. This website is just like that (especially where I shake you down for money), except the part about the pictures. See? I’m wearing flannel, I’m not too serious, and I’m enjoying an excellently poured beer. Please join me. Although I may indulge myself in the occasional bouts of silliness (check out my Twitter feed to the right), I’m serious about writing, and will offer my thoughts on The Process from time to time.
I began writing in elementary school, but I wasn’t any good because, well, I was in elementary school. I wrote in high school, and although the words I produced were still rubbish, I thought my stories were awesome (totally awesome). I wrote in college where one Creative Writing professor did the greatest favor anyone has ever done for me – he told the truth. I stunk. The guy was right, but I didn’t realize that for years. I was too angry. That anger turned into determination, which turned into me working hard to make my writing better. Hmm. Funny how that works. You improve with practice. Too bad the guy’s dead; I’d like to thank him.
I’ve written professionally for a number of years (it’s cool to see checks with your name on them), but I’m still learning about The Process. We all get better with time.
It’s here. My novella, “Matriarchal Nazi Cannibals,” is available for order at Amazon.com. It is is part of a double feature from Strigidae Publishing in one volume, teamed with the novella, “The Menacing of Julia,” by Adam Millard.
For narrative nonfiction, like I suggested to the student, start with “In Cold Blood.” Capote dubbed his book a “nonfiction novel,” and it reads like such. However, it’s not. The book seamlessly weaves Capote’s and friend Harper Lee’s impeccable research into the murder of the Clutter family throughout the narrative giving the reader the sense they’re watching the events happen.