Be a Writer

Sharing Writing Narrative

Clear concise narrative builds believable characters. Establish the tone of your narrative and dialogue and stick with it throughout your book. Follow the advice in, Elements of Style, by Strunk and White. Follow the rules of grammar outside of the quotation marks.
Avoid linking verbs. Use action verbs. Action verbs speak directly to the reader. Make your writing live and keep your readers involved. 
Most action verbs are obvious and describe some action taken by characters in your story.
For example: run, walk, punch, and hit. 
Non-action or linking verbs like: to be, is, was, were, could, would; should be used sparingly. 
An example of an action verb sentence is: John ran to the door.
You might say he walked, ambled, sauntered and all would be action verbs.
Some action verbs are harder to discern.
For example grew as an action verb: The farmer grew several prize winning tomatoes.
And grew as a linking verb: The prize winning tomatoes grew in the farmer’s garden.
Test for action or linking verbs by replacing the verb with the appropriate “to be” verb.
The first sentence becomes: The farmer is several prize winning tomatoes. It makes no sense, proving that grew is an action verb.
The second sentence becomes: The prize winning tomatoes were in the farmers garden. This version makes sense, so in this sentence grew is a linking verb.
There is no rule of grammar stating that you should never use the passive voice in your writing. However, clear and concise work better in most instances. If the occasion occurs, where you would like to emphasize the object of your verbs direct action, then by all means use the passive voice. You might use the passive voice when your sentence structures become too repetitive. Otherwise, use the active voice. 
The passive voice looks like this:
The enemy was defeated by our troops. Or Caesar was stabbed by Brutus.
The active voice would read:
Our troops defeated the enemy. And Brutus stabbed Caesar.
Using active voice makes your narrative powerful, direct, and easy to understand. Try to stay away from passive voice. If compelled to use the passive voice, know why, and do it sparingly.
Tone
Set the tone of your narrative from the start and be consistent throughout your story. 
For Example - Tough ex-cop/private eye:
Way back in the 1990’s when Dave still found his courage in Kentucky bourbon straight up and a beer back, he transferred to Dade County, Florida, were he trained police cadets for Miami PD and did limited time with Miami Homicide. He stayed busy teaching a criminal justice class at the local community college, way up in Hollywood.
"Hard work gives life meaning. Everyone needs to work hard at something to feel good about themselves. Every job can be done well and every day has its satisfactions." Osceola McCarty Laundress and philanthropist
Write some words. Then, push on for a few more words. When the going is hard, hard workers get going.

In Fitz-James O'Brien's classic tale of terror "What Was It?," the narrator finds himself musing on the nature of horror: "There must be some great and ruling embodiment of fear -- a King of Terrors -- to which all others must succumb. What might it be?" As someone who has spent much of my professional life -- in fact, much of my life -- thinking and writing about horror, I get asked a variant of this question all the time: What's the scariest movie ever made? What's the most terrifying book you've ever read? Come clean, Professor -- what really, really scares you?

Well, Halloween is upon us, so here's my utterly subjective guide to what does, and does not, make for successful horror:

Childhood is terrifying
As is adolescence, and most of us devotees of horror begin at a young age. As I type this, my desk is strewn with DVDs of TV programs and films I first saw as I was growing up in the 1970s: "Dead of Night," "Supernatural," "Thriller," "Robin Redbreast," "The Owl Service." On my shelves, I have a complete set of Herbert Van Thal's The Pan Books of Horror Stories, which I devoured aged about 11, and which were very much my way into the adult world. On Saturday nights across the 70s, the BBC would show a Horror Double Bill, generally a Universal classic starring Bela Lugosi or Boris Karloff, followed by something newer and racier, like a Hammer film. My parents always went out on a Saturday night, and so I watched all these films. In the early 80s, we got a video recorder, and our local video store seemed to stock nothing but horror movies. I watched them all, even (especially!) the ones subsequently banned under the 1984 Video Recordings Act -- the so-called "video nasties." Any book or film able to tap into this connection between childhood and horror has already gone a long way towards succeeding -- just ask Stephen King.

Atmosphere is all-important
This is why ghost stories are inherently more frightening than, say, zombie movies. This is also why horror fiction is uniquely suited to the short form, where old-fashioned unities of time, place, action and reading-experience are paramount. Under the right circumstances, M.R. James is the most terrifying writer in the world -- if you're alone in the house, late at night, preferably in front of an open fire. What's important here is what Freud called the uncanny, the ability to create a mood of uncertainty, in which we can no longer be sure of our own senses and interpretation -- did I just see that, or didn't I? What's that noise? Is someone outside? I could've sworn that door was closed last time I looked. Am I alone in the house?

Shocks are not frightening, and neither is gore
Anyone can sneak up behind you, shout "BOO!" very loudly, and make you drop your ice-cream. I won't deny the effectiveness of the occasional well-timed shock, but these only work in the context of an atmosphere which has already unsettled your audience. They should be used sparingly. Likewise gore. There are two risks here. The first, and most significant, is that you're in danger of making your audience laugh: the line between gore and giggling is a very fine one, which many splatter movies and zombie movies exploit to great effect. But a film like Peter Jackson's Brain Dead is funny because Jackson set out to make it funny; as a film-maker, the last thing you want is an audience tittering at your film's most shocking moments.

The other danger is cheap nihilism -- using gore and nastiness to cover up the fact that you have nothing to say. There's nothing particularly new or clever about nastiness -- as the audiences for Euripides's "The Bacchae" or Shakespeare's "Titus Andronicus" will testify, it's been part of the writer's arsenal for centuries, if not millennia.

Genre is your friend


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A real case of bullying

Another real case of bullying:

I was near Truman College earlier, and as I walked the campus of the school, I heard lots of yelling, as I turned around there was this very young female student who was being taunted something fiercely, out in the open, by some other woman, whom I did not know if she was a student or not. One thing, she was surely the aggressor. I had actually walked up on and was witnessing bullying going on outside of a pretty decent college and right in front of me. The bully was cussing, threatening, yelling, to do physical harm to this young lady. She just would not leave her alone. The bully even followed the student to the bus stop and taunted her while she waited for the bus. The bully told her that she would kick her ass all up and down the street, and yelled at her many times to fight. I usually don’t get into someone else’s fights, but I did this time. I walked over to the young student, as the bully stood back and looked on, I told her to always let someone know about what is going on, because her life may depend on it. I told her that as soon as she gets home to let her parents know about the incident and also school officials, and always call the police. I told her to reach out for help, it is always there. Other good people started to gather around her, too keep the bully from harming the student. The police had been called. As I left the scene, I heard the bully growl at me.

Please join me every Saturday and Sunday on Blog Talk Radio at 6:00pm Chicago time, for the George Wilder Jr Show. it a show where no topic is off limits, authors and writers are welcomed  to showcase their craft. But remember no topic is off limits that is within reason and within my knowledge. We can learn from each other while creating a great place where talk is king. I'm still the new kid on the block, join me won't you. Lets have some fun. 

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Writing Groups

Writing groups. In my opinion, are a collection of people who want to get better at their craft through critique. You are the teacher, student, and the writer. There is always someone there who runs the writing group, a moderator. My first ever writing group was located on the north side, I will never forget that night. I had been writing for several years and wanted to go to the next phase. I needed feedback, which is a function of a writing group, also support and constructive criticism was something I was seeking. Most people I know are writers but they would only tell me what they knew I wanted to hear. I was looking for more objectivity. A real good friend of mine had hooked me up with this writing group, she felt that there was something we could have in common when it came to creative writing. On the first night, I walked into the moderate sized white room on the second floor of the building, and there was at least six to seven people sitting around a brown oblong oak table chatting with one another. They all looked over 100. They welcomed me. I was told to take a seat. The moderator smiled and welcomed me once more. Suddenly every of one of them appeared totally unprepared, and I felt weird because I was prepared. One guy was passing around writings that he had plagiarized, another guy brought in a piece he claimed that he had written 20 years ago. A woman copied something out of a book and read it aloud. One guy did not have anything at all. Hence, I had written a short piece, made some copies passed it around, a bit later. I was asked to read my story. However, my story once in their hands, some started marking all over it with red ink. The moderator looked like she was homeless. But by the look on the moderator’s face, as she read my story silently to herself, it could have been the best writing she had seen in years. Not that my story was any good, it was just everyone else's work in this writing group, in my opinion, was just that bad. They appeared not to be serious writers and it felt to me, they were just there to waste time and to be anywhere but at home. Some were mean and appeared to be combative. At the end of the group meeting, I was told for the following week to bring food for everybody. They were serious. I left there and never went back again. This one group does not reflect all writer’s groups, because I have been part of some great ones. Just thought I’d share. 

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Author George Wilder Jr.

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September 2014

The George Wilder Jr. Show

I'm the new kid on the block. The show is still under construction.

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Join me

Write

If you have the talent to write then you must pursue it. A squandered talent is a terrible thing. You must find out how far you can go. How good are you?
This can only be done through practice, through writing. Having the time is the first task, and the second is actually sitting down and writing. Sometimes this can be hard. The world does not care if you write, so it is all up to you. If you do not feel that you can write--take a walk, get a cup of coffee or glass of water and read for awhile, this always works for me. It is generally what gets me into the mood. Get inspired by other writers. Writing a little beats not writing at all.

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Levi Beck

Levi Beck was just getting back home from his grandmother’s funeral, he ran up to his room and threw himself across the king size bed, still mourning her death. The nineteen year old really loved his grandmother and thought of her as being the best thing that ever  happen to him. Her wonderful memories soon flooded his young  mind and began to overwhelm his grieving soul. 

Levi Beck felt that his grandmother was the only one in his family who actually understood him and what he was trying to accomplish.  She felt his pain in a way no one else could. She was

more than just his grandmother, she was a dear friend. His dad deserted him when he was an infant. His mother was abusive and non-caring. Therefore, his grandmother was his only rock, and now

she was gone. Levi Beck was a good kid, he did not hang out with bad people. He always dreamed of a better life for himself and those around him.  He was in his last year of high school. His grades were pretty good.  However, he knew that it would take more than good grades to help get him out of his slump. Prior to his grandmother’s death he had played the Illinois lottery, and that was only just a few days ago. As he began to remember about

purchasing some lottery tickets, together with some regrets of not being there during her last days, he dared to dream again.  Beck crawled up out of the bed and went over to the nightstand where the tickets were and gathered them up and went over to the laptop

computer to check the online numbers.  Soon he was on the Illinois lottery’s website. Still feeling remorseful over the death of his grandmother, Levi Beck did not have confidence in much of anything, he was just going through the motions. He peered over his lottery numbers and then the numbers on the computer, and then again, and then again, and then again. This can’t be true, he kept on saying. The numbers from the website matched one of his tickets. 

After multiple re-checks and loud swearing, it was true, he had won the lottery. Beck had never won anything in his entire life. It seemed that his grandmother’s death had become old news

very quickly. He jumped up and down with remarkable glee, and Beck wanted and needed to tell the rest of his family and friends that he now had money. He was now rolling around his bedroom floor and shouting. The smile on his face had stretched from one ear to the other.

There was sunshine all in his eyes. Levi Beck glowed with optimism. The first thing he would do with some of the money will be to bury his grandmother with grace and dignity and buy her

a great looking headstone that reads, Rest in Peace, Silvia Cage Steel in big broad letters.

His young face lit up the room, like fireworks light up the sky on the Fourth of July.  Levi Beck’s once morbid face went from sadness and regret to all bright smiles, in a span of one hour. He would gleefully now take over the burial duties and give his grandmother a proper and respectable send-off from this, God’s Earth.

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THE FACE

The Face

Late last night, I walked into my bathroom, like so many times before, but this time I actually really did focus in all the way on that face, and that face belonged to me. I had looked into that mirror many times but never really saw myself and I was a little afraid, not much but a little. My son was still sleeping. Nevertheless, there I was standing in my underwear and staring back at me was a face that looked exactly like mine from the medicine cabinet mirror. This is what I saw. I first saw a guy with no hair on his head, when at one time there was plenty, however, I was not fretting. As I peered closer and even closer at that face, I notice that my eyes were kind of blue. It appeared that I was wearing contacts. 

I never wore contacts in my life. My skin had aged, my jaws had kind of sunken in and that made me look older. My aging forehead still hung over my eyes. The kids at my grammar school, when I attended, use to tease me by saying that I had my own eye shade from the blazing sun. I hardly paid it much attention then and I still do not pay it much attention now. Still looking at my face in the mirror, it occurred to me that face was the face of someone holding in some deep thoughts about almost everything. A face of someone who is friendly, understanding, and super creative. That face is the face of a father, provider, and a leader. As I continued to pour over my one and only face, I saw someone who will always strive to do the best that he can, all the time. I saw someone who is his own man. No one owns me. This face does what it wants. This face is a face of someone who will not be controlled. It is a face of someone who still have dreams. And also, I saw someone who is not so good looking anymore. I saw someone who wants to get married again. I saw someone who will 

try to get along with everyone. I saw someone with a fiery temper, at times. I saw someone who was still trying to look young with very little hope of that. I saw a strong face, a face I’m very proud of and counting. I see the face of a loving individual.

I saw a track where many of my tears had fallen. This face once again told me that I needed a shave. After flushing the toilet again, I was on my way back to bed to try and forget about what I just seen, however, it was all good and very interesting. This face will be back again.

George Wilder Jr. 

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