The Green-Walled Tower

January 20, 2015

Confession: I’m a Serial Hater

How’s that for a glib, yet cryptic title? Let me explain a little more.

I walk into a used bookstore, which like most bibliophiles, is similar to walking into an opium den. Oh sure, you tell the people waiting in the car that you’re just running in for a moment, but they know better and wander off for some coffee, or a tour in the Peace Corps. Meanwhile, I wander through the dim shelves, looking for a stack of yellowing, dog-earred volumes to trade some hard-earned lucre for. I go to fantasy/sci-fi and start pulling books out. Hmm, this one looks interesting. Interesting title, nice cover art. I glance down at the bottom of the cover. Book 1 of—

That’s it. Deal-breaker.

I’m not going to say it’s a hard and fast rule, but I must confess that I am deeply biased against novel series. I’ll call it a prejudice since then I don’t have to justify it. Of course, in the above scenario of the used bookstore, the much more frustrating situation is finding Book 4 of– with no sight of Book 3, 2, or 1 anywhere. That’s not the writer’s fault, but here are some other grievances I have with book series.

Most of our books. I’m sure some of them are series.

1. The series never finishes.

This doesn’t happen much, but every now and then, the volumes keep coming and coming, introducing more and more plots and characters and not wrapping up enough of the old ones. This was my complaint with Wheel of Time. Hopefully, this won’t be the case with the Game of Thrones books but that is also one reason I will probably never read them.

2. The first book really isn’t that good.

Let me clarify for a moment. I don’t have any problem with book series that all take place in the same world, but are separate stories, even if they are loosely related to each other. That’s fine. Books like the Discworld novels and the Chronicles of Narnia are series but they are also standalone novels, for the most part. My problem is with series that are all one single story. If the first book isn’t that good, I feel torn between giving up and never finding out the ending, and shelling out more money just to know what happened. It’s like selling me the first quarter of a novel, and unlike Jimmy Norman, the master behind Dysfunctional Literacy, I finish books. It’s a compulsion with me, even if I don’t like them (even this compulsion is more of an ideal; there are plenty of books I never finish).

3. You get the feeling the writer is only continuing the series for money.

I don’t have any specific examples of this, but I’m sure you’ve read them. There are still things that happen, conflicts occur, characters do things, but the books start to lose some of the driving force of the first one. It’s not necessarily bad writing, but you get the feeling that it’s also not really necessary.

4. The series is an artificial construct.

This is a publishing trick more than a writing one. Korea is especially bad at it, for some reason. I have the Lord of the Rings in four languages and the Korean one was by far the most expensive. That’s because while the other languages sell it in three books, the Korean version has seven volumes, meaning it’s 7/3’s more expensive. It is technically 6 books in one (plus the appendices) but there’s no point in selling it that way, except for money.

When I was young, I bought a middle grade fantasy series called Winds of Light. It had six volumes, even though each was only 130 pages or so. That was fine, except about six months after I bought the whole series, they came out with a single volume edition for about a third of the price of all six volumes. Maybe that was when my series hatred started. Maybe I should go see a literary psychologist.

(Note: just to preemptively point out my hypocrisy, I am planning to write a novel series in about ten years or so. I only mention it now since everything online is eternal and I just know someone will dig up this post in 15 years when my serial novels are on the bestseller list. I just like to be prepared.)

Okay, I’ve ranted enough. How do you feel about serial novels? Let me know in the comments. (If, by the way, you write serial novels for a living, feel free to curse me out or send me a free sample of your books to try to sway my mind on the matter.)

13 Comments | tags: Dysfunctional Literacy, hate, list, novel, series, writing | posted in Uncategorized

January 19, 2015

If I Had a Penny – A Poem to My Wife

By David Stewart

This just goes to show you never know what you’ll get from the Green-Walled Tower.

Even a now-obsolete Canadian penny [*]

If I had a penny for every woman I have asked to marry me,

If I had a nickel for every one that I have traveled the world with,

If I had a dime for every woman I have seen and thought that I could spend the rest of my life with,

Then I’d have sixteen cents and I would probably lose that in the crack of the couch.

But if I had a dollar for every time I told you “I love you,”

I would seriously wonder who was paying me that money,

And I would feel a little bad for them,

Because I would be a billionaire.

10 Comments | tags: billionaire, dime, love, nickel, penny, poem, quirky, wife | posted in Dusk

January 17, 2015

The Battle of New Semester

By David Stewart

I’ve been busy lately with work so I wanted to write a post explaining why I haven’t been around as much as I would like to be this week. This is what came out of that. My wife says I’m being silly and, of course, she’s right.

(For those of you who don’t know, I teach ESL at a university.)

Destination: Inbox (Source)

The Battle of New Semester

I knew it was coming for months before it hit. I watched it appear on the horizon like a tsunami viewed from the relative ease of a tropical island beach. Over the weeks and months I watched it get closer, with anticipation at best and at worse, resignation.

Then, on January 5, it hit.

The invasion of the new semester.

It started slow. The first wave was mostly Administrative Duties, buzzing in from above, peppering me with emails. “Re: re: re:!” went their machine guns. “FYI! FYI!” They were slow moving and I could pick them off easily enough, but as the week progressed, each progressive wave got thicker and closer together.

The 5^th Division Placement Tests made an amphibious landing on Thursday and I was busy for two days putting down that threat, until finally everyone was in their place. Unfortunately, we weren’t without casualties. Our general went down with the flu and a few NCOs as well.

Of course, this was just the vanguard attack. The main invasion force came the next week and the battle settled down into the daily slog.

The Class artillery is not that bad. Every morning at 8:30, the shelling begins, with 30mm Grammar shells coming in from the right and Writing mortars whistling in from the left. You just have to endure and after a couple hours they slack off before a shorter American Culture attack in the afternoon.

Worse are the Lesson Plans. The sneaky blighters sneak up and sabotage your defenses and equipment, making you unprepared for the daily Class shelling. Sometimes I can pick them off with a few well-aimed shots but other times I spend hours hunting them down, the battles going on into the evenings and spilling over to the weekends.

It will get better though, after a few weeks. I’ll set up anti-aircraft batteries to knock down the Administrative Duties and dive-bombing emails as they appear. I’ll establish a wider perimeter to take care of lesson plans from a greater distance and the daily shelling of Classes will become routine. Things will settle down soon. Soon.

That’s teaching for you.

8 Comments | tags: classes, email, fiction, funny, invasion, lesson plans, quirky, teaching, war, work | posted in Light

January 14, 2015

Stare – Friday Fictioneers

By David Stewart

Stare

Adam stood by his tenth story apartment window and stared at the woman across the road, their gaze locked as tight as lovers’ lips, their expressions as vacant as the honeymoon suite at Hotel Cholera.

Suddenly, two pigeons collided between them. Their beaks locked together and one tried to fly up while the other went down. Back and forth they went, the commotion resembling two mimes having a screaming match in a washing machine.

Adam’s mouth twitched.

His phone buzzed.

“Hello?”

“You smiled.”

“Dang it! How did you not?” He looked away and blinked his tired eyes.

“Another round?”

30 Comments | tags: fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, funny, mime, pigeon, quirky, stare, staring contest | posted in Friday Fictioneers

January 11, 2015

A Ghost of a Chance of Success

By David Stewart

A Ghost of a Chance of Success

Honestly, I only tried it because my wife said I couldn’t do it.

She gets me to do all kinds of things that way. “I’ll bet you don’t have the guts to marry me,” she said one indolent afternoon 27 years ago, when the summer crickets were in full concert.

I sure showed her.

The challenges started with the mundane: “Bah, you couldn’t mow the lawn if you tried.”

You’d think I’d learn but I had to show her who was boss. Soon I was doing most of the housework while she watched TV and occasionally called out her disbelief in my ability to do various small tasks that I had forgotten.

Eventually, her challenges crossed over into more exotic realms but I never backed down for a second. I spent most of 2013 trying to build a time machine but eventually just built a very small museum and declared victory.

For this latest challenge, I’ve assembled all the things I might need: a large glass bottle, a tombstone, a Bible, a copy of the Necronomicon (just in case) and a liter of ectoplasm.

Now how on Earth am I going to make a ghost ship in a bottle?

19 Comments | tags: Alastair's Photo Fiction, bottle, fiction, flash fiction, funny, ghosts, marriage, ship, wife | posted in Light

January 7, 2015

The Summer of Subtraction on Sixty-Six – Friday Fictioneers

By David Stewart

The Summer of Subtraction on Sixty-Six

It was one of those once-in-a-lifetime ideas: five guys driving Route 66 from Chicago to LA.

Dennis didn’t even make it out of the gate. After a 5-hour delay, we said screw him.

Marcus fell hard for a greasy spoon waitress near Carthage, Missouri; named Dido, no less. After a bitter battle, we sailed, another man down.

Aziz got drunk and fell into Oologah Lake in Oklahoma. He was busted up so bad they had to air-lift him to Tulsa.

John got bad news about his grandfather and flew home from Albuquerque.

I drove on. Best summer of my life.

69 Comments | tags: Albuquerque, Carthage, Chicago, Dido, driving, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, LA, Missouri, Oklahoma, Oologah Lake, road trip, Route 66, summer | posted in Friday Fictioneers

January 6, 2015

Big Writing versus Small Writing

By David Stewart

This idea came to me a few days ago as a way of thinking of different aspects of writing. I was thinking of H.P. Lovecraft as a matter of fact and considering whether he was a good writer or not. He is considered one of the masters of early cosmic horror, continuing on from Edgar Allan Poe, Ambrose Bierce and William Hope Hodgson and one of the inspirations for modern horror. He was clearly hugely influential and was a master of huge, sweeping themes. On the other hand, his writing is filled with long, baroque descriptions and almost no dialogue. So, was he a good writer?

I concluded that he was good at big writing but not as good as small writing. Here was my thinking.

Big writing relates to the story, themes, action, and the characters. All the things you would say if you were asked what the story was about, and other Wh- questions.

Small writing has to do with the actual words the writer uses. It’s the description, the dialogue, the word choice. This is what comes out when you quote something from a story.

Of course, to be successful, you need to be good at both. No one wants to read a sweeping epic that reads like Dick and Jane, nor rich, velvety prose, sumptuous and sensuous as a triple layer chocolate cake if there’s no story to it. However, some writers seem to excel at one or the other.

Some notable “big writing” greats:

J.R.R. Tolkien. The Lord of the Rings has some great dialogue and description, but it’s the epic feel of it that leaves an impression.
J. K. Rowling. Not that her small writing is bad, but wow, it’s the world and big story that has made her a star.
Michael Crichton. I really love his books and while he’s not a bad writer, it’s the stories and action that really pulls you in.

Some great “small writing” authors:

William Shakespeare. This one is debatable, since he is great all around, but I would argue that his stories are fairly conventional and it is his rapier-sharp dialogue and turns of phrase that have made him a legend.
Barbara Kingsolver. I thought of her because I’ve been reading the Poisonwood Bible lately. Just a few sentences and you feel like you are right there with the family in the Congo, breathing in the same air and all.
Edgar Allan Poe. It is a joy to me to read his words, like some sort of lexical opiate.

These are a few examples that I thought of off the top of my head. Which writers do you think really excel at “big writing” or “small writing”? Let me know.

7 Comments | tags: authors, Bierce, big writing, Crichton, Hodgson, Kingsolver, lovecraft, Poe, Rowling, small writing, Tolkien, writing | posted in Uncategorized

January 5, 2015

It Appears I Have a Zombie Car

By David Stewart

Upon my word, I’m not sure how to say this but I believe I am the owner of a zombie car.

Braaaaaaakesss…braaaaaaaakesss. [Source]

Don’t ask me how such a thing is possible; my mechanic Gregory had no idea what the matter was and I had to rely on the expertise of young Michael who runs the comic store and indie movie theater. He seemed to know all about it. At least he pretended to.

It all started a week ago with the accident. I was coming up Route 43, just north of Springersville. It was foggy and you know how the road curves left just over the river? Well, straight ahead is the gate for Granger’s scrap yard and I just missed the turn completely in the fog and plowed right into that chain-link gate with my 2002 Corolla. It was an honest mistake, I can assure you; no drink was involved. You can take an old woman’s word on that point.

Well, I ran through the gate and before I could even touch the brakes, I ran smack into the rusted hulk of some big, old truck. I was lucky not to set the airbag off. I was so shook up, I just reversed and drove on up the road. It wasn’t like there was much I could do there at that time of night.

It really hit me when I got home and I just started shaking. I checked the front of the car. It was a bit banged up and had rust all over it. I left it and went in for a nice strong cup of tea.

The next morning, the rust had spread all over it. I brought it into the shop and they got the rust off and repainted it, but the next day it was the same as before. And, when I went to put my groceries in the trunk, there was part of an engine block sitting in there. Imagine that! That really steamed my vegetables. I went and gave Gregory a piece of my mind. He gave it right back, with change, but while we were arguing, I saw Michael listening in and checking the car.

“I know what’s wrong,” he said. “You got a zombie car.”

“What’s that?” I snapped. I was not in the mood for foolishness.

“It’s just like a zombie person,” Michael said. “You have a lot of decay and it’s eating brains, or engines in this case.”

I was about to whack him over the head for being an idiot, but he was giving me more than Gregory had, so I didn’t. “How do you fix it then, if you’re so smart?” I asked.

“With zombies, you can’t fix it at all. Usually, you just shoot them in the head.”

“And what’s that with a car, the head gasket?” I asked, about to whack him anyway. “Good luck explaining that to the insurance company. ‘My car turned into a zombie so I shot it in the head gasket. Give me money.’ They’d laugh themselves silly.”

He shrugged. “Just saying.”

I drove home in my zombie car. Kids these days.

The problem was that it kept disappearing at night, sometimes coming home at dawn and sometimes not. I followed it once. It wasn’t hard, since it just sort of shambled along in first gear. I watched it pop its hood and eat the engine out of Dr. Patel’s Ferrari down the road. I would have stopped him but I didn’t know how and Dr. Patel always lets his dog crap in my yard anyway.

Finally I had enough. Not sure what to do, I drove it out to Thompson Road and parked it on the train tracks as the train was coming.

“Good bye, old boy,” I said. It seemed more effective than shooting it in the head gasket.

The train was almost on it and blowing its horn like an angry elephant, when suddenly my car put itself in reverse and backed off the tracks. The last I heard of it was a low, grumbling blast of its horn before it disappeared down the road.

I told the insurance company that it was stolen. It’s not technically a lie and even if it were, what was an old woman supposed to do?

12 Comments | tags: car, fiction, funny, old woman, quirky, zombie | posted in Light

January 4, 2015

Blind Angel Luck

By David Stewart

Today is my birthday, although this story has nothing to do with that.

Blind Angel Luck

The angel in my hand was blind, projecting an air of bland, unfocused benevolence out into the world. That was how I had envisioned it when I bought it: a chunk of divine plutonium, radiating good luck and positive vibes to all those nearby. It hadn’t really worked out that way.

“Hey, is this for sale?” my friend Phil asked, picking it up. People were circulating through my apartment, looking over the price-tagged items. I told people I needed to de-clutter. No one was fooled; I could barely buy food.

“Just take it,” I said, “if you dare. I bought it for good luck, after all.”

“Ah.” He put it in his pocket, then slipped $20 into my hand. “I’ll take my chances,” he said with a wink.

Two hours later, the sale was over and I was just sitting down in my much-emptier living room when someone pounded on the door. It was Phil.

“It worked! It worked!”

“What worked?”

“The angel. I went to the corner shop to buy a Coke and I was coming back when I got mugged.”

“How is that good?”

“I threw the angel at him when he turned around. It knocked him out cold. The police are giving me a reward. I’ll split it with you.”

I still don’t believe in good luck charms. But I might start carrying a stone angel around with me anyway.

36 Comments | tags: Alastair's Photo Fiction, angel, blind, crime, fiction, flash fiction, good luck, luck, mugger, quirky, stone | posted in Light

January 1, 2015

Happy New Year 1915!

By David Stewart

Happy 2015 everyone! The title is not a typo. Here is a clip from the magazine Current Events, from January 1, 1915. It talks about how to keep peace for 100 years, referring to the peace between Canada and the US after the War of 1812. 100 years later, our world can still use all the peace it can get. Here’s to a peaceful 2015.