Just before I had finished what I thought was the final edit to my short story Rain, Beckie Ugolini, present president of SAWG and valued critique group member, asked what (with an insinuated “if anything”) did the name ‘Rain’ mean. Halfway through my explanation, I realized the title didn't say enough about the story, nor would it incite someone to read it. Again, from yet another unexpected front,

The main symbol in the story is how gifts of love—though manifested physically—are referred to as unexpected rain. I felt I needed to incorporate that juxtaposition somehow. I think at that point I wrote ‘Rain from the Sun’. But more important than the symbol of rain, I realized ‘Rain’ is a story about the main character, Mr. Salley. So I modified the spelling so I had ‘Rain from the Son’. Feeling that spelling may be missed or, worse, viewed as clumsiness on the part of the writer, I felt I needed to modify the part in question: Son. Mr. Salley’s transformation comes in part from his making peace with the place he grew up as a homosexual in the unforgiving Bible Belt of the mid-60s.

I arrived at ‘Rain From A Southern Son’. The title felt right. It communicated the juxtaposition between rain and sun, throws a curve with “Son” instead of “Sun” and the implied reference to a southern son suggests Dixieland. All this without being too cryptic or too obvious.

It's difficult for me to imagine that if things had worked out a little differently, I might have been wrting about my painting instead of my writing.

During the first years of marriage which begain in '89, writing proved an immediately awkward fit. I tended to write vivd erotic pieces, wrenching poetry, false letters to imagined characters, none of which settled well with a girl raised in a meat-and-potatoes, art-is-weird environment. I would either show her what I had written and she would give me the who-did-I-marry look or she would read through what I hadn't set aside to share and I would hear about it later. I pretty much stopped writing.

Around the same time, I inherited a large number of oils, a handful of brushes and a couple prepped canvases from my maternal grandmother. I liked the romantic idea and the solitude of a painter's life, so I decided to give it a shot.

Knowing nothing about the craft, I set up an easel and created a number of decent though uninspired paintings. In a matter of weeks, I painted less and less frequently. Soon, I abandoned it altogether.

Two years later, by then enrolled in art school, an instructor remarked that I "would be good at sculpture" based on my sculptural method of drawing. He invited me to participate in an 8-week block of painting classes at his downtown Nashville studio overlooking the Cumberland River at Riverfront Park. Visions of the painter's life were revived. I decided to attend. .

Actually knowing what the hell I was doing helped me enjoy painting far better than I had the first time around.

But again, after the classes were over, I found keeping up painting in my private life lacked the same romance and ease. Painting at home with a new baby, with inadequate lighting and without the energy of my fellow students around me paled in comparison to what the experience had been at my instructor's full-blown, well-lit studio.

At the time, I took the fact that it did not sustain for more than a few months as proof that, though I loved aspects of painting, it could not occupy the same place in my soul that writing once had.

Additionally, the high cost of supplies and difficulty storing wet canvases finally convinced me to look elsewhere for my expression. For a while afterwards, I gave all of my creative energies to my schooling.

After school, I transferred that energy to my work. In recent years though I've hit a plateau with web design. I know so well what I need to do in order to give a client what he needs that a certain amount of creativity is missing. The next step would be to design higher-end or raw concept sites, but I'm not interested in pushing in that direction. There's too much technical stuff to learn with increasingly less reward.

So what did i learn from having gone down the painting road?

First off, I learned a lot about how I need to work as an artist. The massive time required to set up and tear down every time I felt inspired to paint was a major problem. When I get an idea, I need to be able to walk right up to a ready canvas and go to it.

Second, and i've written about this before, when you're working in an artistic field of any kind, you need peer support. I thrived in the studio atmosphere. I was motivated because we shared and energy and we gave and accepted our peers' opinions and suggestions.

When I restared serious writing, I took these (and other) lessons and incorprated them. I make sure I go to the SAWG and critique meetings, even if I don't have work to critique and even if I don't feel like stopping whatever I'm doing at the time.

I also make sure my work environment is away from daily temptations and that, at any time inspiration strikes, my writing station is ready for me.

On rare occasion, I'll dig out the travel easel I have in storage and slap some paint on a board. Usually, I paint just enough to remind myself why I am not a painter anymore.

In the last couple months, I had resumed writing my novel-length The Letter From William Waiklin which revolves around William's mystical punishment involving a very special tree. I proceeded bravely even when it came to references to American Indian culture of the mid-to-late 19th century specific to the Ojibwe in Northern Minnesota.

The more I wrote, the more nervous I became. Words from a The Smiths song from the 80s haunted me: "'Cause there's someone somewhere with a big nose who knows who trips you up and laughs when you fall." In the song, Morrissey is relating how he had been tripped up "borrowing" lyrics from an early 19th century nobody writer. A busy-body bookworm found the nearly word-for-word reference and brought that fact to light. Morrissey, until this revelation, had garnered tremendous praise for his poetic turn of phrase so unlike his new-wave English contemporaries. Suddenly the genius' genius was under a bright spotlight. The authenticity of his authorship would be called into question from then on.

I wasn't skirting plagiarism, but I realized my facts would be scrutinized by untold big-noses who very well might know which of my references were unrealistic. I put off researching until I couldn't quiet that damned song any more: I can't write at my best with that sort of distraction bumping around in my head. Screw Morrissey.

Through my research on the internet, I found there was a brilliant woman who had lived among the Ojibwe people in just the right time in history and had created a number of reports for the Smithsonian. The largest of these reports had been published as a paperback and, to my astonishment, was still in print. I bought it and have been devouring it for a week or so.

Now, as I read about the Ojibwe culture, I shudder at some aspects of what I had planned to write. Before, I intentionally avoided specific details about food, clothing, housing, mannerisms, knowing nothing I simply invented coupled hold up, I now look forward to returning to the novel. Researching has given me more than knowledge of my subject, the value of which is immeasurable; it has given me peace of mind. When I sit down again, I will have a complete world, a real world, to draw upon. And even though the engine of my story, the nature of the tree's power an it's origin, it is deeply rooted (pun acknowledged) in fact.

In a market filled with cute writing-realted titles, I am pleased to have come across Write Away: One Novelist's Approach to Fiction and the Writing Life by Elizabeth George, author of With No One as Witness and a large number of others.

Though I haven't completed reading the book, I'm highly impressed with the seeming ease with which she crafts her sentenses. That the writing style found in other similar books is apparent comapared to George's is a comfort to me. She expounds on the subtle aspects of writing while remaining interesting and, more importantly, invisible to the reader. George omits writer's prompts, taboo in this book's niche; however, the examples she cites are chosen well and go further to stimilate the imagination and a desire to write than its competitors that do.

Write Away's chapters are named in a way that tells of George's unique angle: Story Is Character; Setting Is Story; Nothing Without Landscape. Her understanding of writing, such as her thoughtfulness in differentiating setting from landscape, is apparent on every page.

As she discusses The Basics, Technique, and Process, three of the five parts in the book, George regularly checks in with her readership: aspiring (or established) writers. She coaches the reader, giving personal and second-hand examples of common challenges. She passes on what has and has not worked for her and why. She sympathizes with writers in the occasional monumental struggle that is success as a writer.

For my money, Write Away deserves its place in the short list of must-have instructional books.

Purchase from Amazon.com »
Purchase from Barnes & Noble »

I have been unable to integrate hosting my sister's visit with continuing to write every day. When she and I are out, we laugh and walk so much that, by the time the day is done, I'm too pooped to think or write. She's only here for a week, so instead of fretting about going back on the oath I took at the beginning of the year to write each and every day of 2008, I ammended the oath to allow family to take precidence when necessary.

And that brings up the issue of writing vacations in general. When I say "writing vacation" I'm not talking about planning out two weeks in a shalet in Colorado where you wake up each morning and the only thing standing between you and a full day of intermittent writing and gazing thoughtfully out the window is the need for another cup of coffee and ADHD--though that sounds like a delicious two weeks. I'm talking about a vacation from writing. A day or more to let the batteries recharge or to allow oneself to look at the work, consciously or subconsciously, from a different angle or at a slower pace. Are writing vacations acceptible or even necessary or are they harmful? If they are acceptible, then when are they so and how long should they be? And how frequently should they be taken? For the sake of the article, I'll assume they are at least acceptible.

So what are the arguments in favor of writing vacations? I've already mentioned the battery recharging aspect and the fact that taking a few steps back allows one to view the current work(s) with a bit more ease or from a different angle. When the greats in the 19th century wrote, they may have written voraciously for the time, but in this modern time of ubiquitous voraciousness, their habits may have been more relaxed than we've been taught to remember them. A cannonball reponds well to being shot out of a cannon; however, most things in the world need careful handling, air and time to develop. Think of bread.

Or consider the men in an army unit. Can they march every day and be expected to fight in their best form? Maybe for a while, and there's a lot to be said for pushing oneself to leanness, but eventually fatigue sets in. The same holds true in writing. At least, speaking for myself, the time I've taken away from writing--four days now--has shown me a couple important things: I have a strong hunger to return to it the moment her feet are on the plane back to Tennessee and when I do return to writing, I have some very clear goals that I don't think would have occurred to me in the midst of the every-day march. Though I didn't set this time aside on purpose, it has both lightened and enlightened me.

So how long and how frequent? My wife and I discuss this topic regularly, but back to writing. If my sister's visit is any good indication, four days seems to be ample to take away from writing if you feel the need. Maybe three days would be better, because when I think about it, the first day was spent in a puddle of guilt. Once I resolved my guilt was unfounded, I could enjoy the next three days as a true vacation.

Keep in mind that time away from writing is not time you never think about writing. You're a writer. You're going to think about writing with the same frequency you always do. That is, you always do, right? What I'm saying is you don't have to get any physical writing done. And if you want to, do it. You're not forbidden to write. A writing vacation is a smallish block of time you let yourself off the hook. If the vacation rolls around and you feel like writing, write, but you can't complain about having written and you must wait until the next writing vacation (which you should already have planned before the current one is over) before you take a day off again.

As far as the frequency, your guess is as good as mine. I'm sure it would differ from writer to writer. I have considered taking every Wednesday off, for instance, or every other Tuesday. Maybe I could take off four days every seasons. The combinations are endless, but I think it should be something that you look forward to. Knowing there's a day out there that you can just drift with ideas instead of build another row in the wall is, for me, a good thing. In the 70s, there was the band Loverboy who preached that everybody is working for the weekend. I think that's sound advice. Writing is a beautiful gift and I love writing every day, but there's work involved and that's the part I personally need a break from once in a while.

I'd love to know how others approach this idea.

I've continued my writing every day, with few exceptions, which has consisted exclusively of editing my short story Rain. As it stands, I have about five more pages to fine tune, then the last of the story is ready for critique. I received especially helpful advice this last go-around. Seems the middle of the story lacked any description whatsoever. The story moved along well enough, but I got the impression the reader was left with action played out by faceless supporting characters in a void. So it was back to the books for a couple weeks, reading anything I could get my hands on regarding adding description: when to, how to and how not to.

I also read more about how to edit a piece. During my reading, I picked up some great tips, one of which is reading your work out loud. And it works. Reading the words you're so confident are perfect shines a light upon weak sections, leading to moments of humble realization.

As with other new methods of improving my writing, reading work out loud is painful in that the writer can't continue to lie to himself. We could just as easily hide ourselves away and "know" our work to be unchangeable. Going to critique sessions, reading work out loud, trudging through daily prideless editing or otherwise divorcing one's self from the illusion of perfection are all acts of bravery and commitment to improvement. I credit myself and my fellow authors for stepping into the fire. It's as difficult as heading to the gym on a rainy or lazy day. You know it helps, so you do it, knowing the hardest part is getting started.

As far as Rain goes, I can't describe how much improved the work has become. I reread some of the first draft a couple days ago. It was a first draft. What can I say? But when I first wrote it, you couldn't have easily convinced me there was much room for improvement, but side-by-side with the story in its present state, the differences are staggering and include virtually every aspect of writing.

Do I beat myself up over having written so poorly in my first draft. Of course not. It's been quite a learning experience. I know my next story's first draft will be much better than was Rain's, but I also know it won't be perfect. It won't be close to perfect. It will be exactly what a first draft needed to be: a record of the story as well as it is formed in my head at the time of writing. It should be fresh and fast and full of feeling, but it shouldn't be good at that point. That's where committed editing comes in.

Some authors I have talked to believe a book can't teach one how to write. Some say you should simply write and have the work critiqued. Some say you should read the work of other authors and study what they have done. Others believe you should get your hands on any and every book that's written. Some even believe that a real author should hold a masters in fine arts.

I subscribe to the believe that if you immerse yourself in Writing (note the capital W) you'll do just fine, hell, more than fine. I believe it is one's deep, honest interest and daily dedication to the craft that will, in the end, make for a better writer. That emersion should probably come in part from all the forms mentioned above. The most important element is the dedication to improvement itself.

If you ask ten authors, you'll get ten different opinions on how to become a better writer. But what works for them may not match your style or even lead you to the correct goal. You have to know yourself and what type of writer you want to be in the end. You need to find your guidance in writers who are working toward the same goal or who are there now. But even then, you have to do it your own way or else you'll just be a poor copy of that other person.

Think about popular music. Each of us has our favorite type of music. Better yet, each of us has an image of what kind of music we would want to perform if we could live the dream. For me, it's a mix of melody, techno and hard rock. Would I get my best advice on how to from Carrie Underwood or Marilyn Manson. Manson, right? But even then, I wouldn't strive to become Manson. Instead, I would model my study after him, using my own experiences and pressing toward a goal of my own definition.

Do the same with your pursuit of writing. I love Neil Gaimon (among others), but I don't want to be spoken of as another Neil Gaimon. I'd rather get a call from him someday in which he tells me he's enjoyed a certain story or a certain something-or-other I added to a story. I think that can only happen if I continue to dive into Writing every day.

So what do I do? Outside of actually putting pen to paper every day without exception, I give myself a lot of wiggle room when it comes to my enrichment. One day, I'll read fiction. Another day, I'll read about the limited omniscient point of view, which, following a luke-warm critique of the beginning of a short story, was recently necessary. I also subscribe to Writers Digest, so some day's I'll read an article before bed. I also have a yahoo page set up that is pretty much nothing but feeds from writing-related sites: blogs, podcasts, traditional websites. Having readily available writing links allows me to keep myself moving forward even while I'm at work. Again, it's the connection to Writing, not the specific activity that I feel is most important.

With my short story "Rain" now finish, I am editing a serious work for the first time since my return to writing. I had been fully prepared to dread the experience. Everything I had read about the editing stage seemed to be negative, except where written by a professional editor.

My experience so far, however, has been fairly positive. Editing involves a different set of challenges, but I haven't found myself begrudging this stage in the process. I can't say I don't understand the complaints of the writers who have complained about editing though. After all, editing is not writing It's not story creating. If done correctly--in the correct mindset--it's not really even creative. For an author, I can see editing could sound and feel like the opposite of what they want to do.

I thought about if for a while and I decided I don't dread editing because of how I returned to writing every day. I needed time writing without in my life in order to become the serious-minded writer I strived to be. When I was younger, I simply wanted to create stories. I wanted to create worlds and people. And, as is commonly the case, I felt anything I wrote was perfect, that anyone who didn't enjoy my writing just didn't understand it. I considered editing the story a sell-out move. I liked the stories, so who was I trying to please. I felt anything I did to change the story would diminish it.

Nearly two decades without writing every day passed. In that time, I matured in a number of ways. I got married. I became a father. I returned to college. I became a professional graphic artist and web designer. Marriage taught me to grow up. Fatherhood taught me there's a time to play and a time to be serious. College taught me how to complete something I started. Becoming a professional taught me how enjoy my creativity while I earned money. When I returned to writing every day, I found I had the ability to get serious about writing. I had the tools it took to formulate an initial idea and see it through to completion. And, just as importantly, I found I didn't begrudge the editing process.

For me, editing is another necessary process in achieving a finished product. The writing may be more creatively fun; however, the editing is the artist in me, stepping back and looking at the canvas, seeing that a proportion is not quite as I envisioned it and making the necessary correction.

I suppose it all boils down to how you envision the final goal. If your goal is to enjoy writing, then you probably won't enjoy editing. However, if you goal is to complete a finished, salable work, then editing will more likely be as enjoyable a stage as the writing itself.

I just completed the first draft of Rain, the short story about a New York man's return to the back-woods of Tennessee where he was raised, his vigil over the dying man who helped him grow up gay in the bible belt, and his search for a baby boy.

I sat in the Starbuck's inside Barnes & Noble and sipped on my mocha as I typed the last gratifying words.

The story's completion stands out to me as a major achievement since it is the first work of any size beyond poetry that I have completed since my return to writing nearly two years ago.

I struggled with the decision to set aside my novel to concentrate on 'Rain' and now I can say I made the right decision. I woke up on Sunday morning two weeks ago with the story complete in my mind. I rushed downstairs, having grabbed the composition notebook I keep next to me to capitalize on moments such as these. Two hours later, I had transcribed the synopsis and I could breathe easy.

In the past, I had relied upon my digital voice recorder, but for an entire storyline, I risked becoming sidetracked. Additionally, the family was still asleep at 4am, so I risked waking someone who was sure to ruin the moment.

Over the next two weeks, with only one notably delay caused by mushiness in the middle scenes, I pushed out around three pages a day. Against all that I had read, I dared to lightly self-edit.

Later on the Sunday I finished the draft, I met up with my parents who had driven from Tennessee to visit me here in San Antonio. Both are avid and intelligent readers. They blessed me with a level of patience I have rarely seen from them: they allowed me to read through all of the 34 pages and offer their wonderful criticism. At points, I actively steered myself away from emotional response and toward mature, silent acceptance. I'm glad to have kept my head. As with any critique, they offered points I agreed with and suggestions I will in all probability not follow.

I'm extremely happy my boys were present for the reading. They will remember that it is possible to begin with an idea and end up with a finished piece of respectable size and quality. They will also understand that first drafts, no matter the skill of the author, are inherently riddled with apparent idiocy in both thought and syntax and that is acceptable for a first draft.

www.sawritersguild.com

I became a member of the San Antonio Writers Guild early in 2007. Now I'm not normally a joiner, but having read extensively about what to and what not to do to become a successful writer, I joined. I felt out-of-place and I didn't enjoy it but I believed everything I had read couldn't be wrong, right? So I stuck it out and returned until, around the beginning of summer, I had relaxed out of my natural social shell enough for it to feel, to a certain extent, normal.

The meetings run like this: you have your normal speech about the state of the Guild including good news / bad news, introduction of new members, news about contests or scams. That first drubbing of boredom ends with the obligatory pleas for members to become more active, head up committees, bring in guests, write more, and so on.

Then, if the person who was tricked into heading up the committee in charge of rounding up a guest speaker has done the work, a guest speaks about writing, publishing or their book that just came out. With guest speakers, it's hit or miss. Oh, how much I'd love to give specific examples of guest speakers who have not only failed to hold my interest, but who have tempted me to consider putting violence upon them. But when a guest speaker is good, it's so worth having attended. Take last night's guest (February '08 monthly meeting) Marcus Henderson Wilder, a 70-year-old man who warned us that he had never been asked to speak before a crowd before so to please stop him at 20 minutes. Nearly 45 minutes passed and no one in the crowd lifted a finger, nor did it likely cross anyone's mind to do so. Though he did speak in a side-tracked way, sometimes not returning to a point, everything he had to say captivated the room. (Check out his book, Naïve & Abroad: Pakistan : Travel in a Land of Mullahs at iUniverse.) Folks who have lived interestingly and have taken the time to document in writing their adventure are an inspiration.

Finally, the membership breaks into groups by genre. I meet with the other fiction writers while others meet with non-fiction or children's literature and whatever other genres are represented. In those smaller groups, whomever has up to 15 pages of work to share with the group hands out copies, someone reads and each member takes his turn offering feedback. The goal is the help one another become better writers. I've heard of some critique groups whose membership is infected with competitiveness and rivalry, but I haven't run into those darker qualities since joining.

I joked last night that coming to the Guild meetings--and the critique group that meets outside of the monthly meeting, but I'll write about that another time--is the opposite of a 12-step program to quit addiction. For me, the idea is to keep coming so that I might develop a positive addiction. And it's helped. I continue to write every day...something...just keep writing no matter what has happened.

I'm nearly finished with my short story Rain in which a wealthy gay man from New York returns to the backwoods Tennessee hospital to be with his dying middle school instructor. The lead character is possibly the most interest for me since my writing resurgence last year. His mannerisms and outlook kept me smiling all through the writing. I can't wait to have the first section critiqued.

I have been a little conflicted about setting down The Letter to William Waiklin, but this story had to be written while the iron was hot.

Can I get a hell-yeah because hell, yeah.

The argument is pretty short actually. The famous quote from Richard Bach, and the one I've had posted on the wall next to me from the day I took up writing again after a 17 year hiatus--hope I didn't make you spit your coffee onto your monitors with that revelation--reads: "A professional writer is an amateur who didn't quit."

So the argument may be based on semantics, but Bach doesn't question whether the writer is an author. He implies that an unpublished or unpracticed author is still an author. He's an amateur.

So, by all means, refer to yourself as an author. If you write with any level of seriousness, welcome to the business. It's not like your inclusion leaves less room for the rest of us.

And referring to yourself as an author, even if your level of confidence only allows you to say it in your head, is an important tool. Who can work, thinking of themselves as a pretender? I believe thinking of myself as an author is an important step in my ability to write every day. How else could I justify to myself, or my wife, or my children, or my dog, the long hours I accumulate over a week and over--what is it now?--a year-and-a-half? And still no finished book?

I am a web designer when I'm not authoring. That's sitting for long periods of time followed by sitting for long periods of time. That should equal fat and stiffness, poor eyesight and carpel-tunnel, right? Yes, it does. IF one doesn't take the necessary precautions to avoid that fate.

The point was made well by Isaac Asimov. I read--and I'm boldly paraphrasing, so don't bother correcting me--that he was asked what he would do if he were told he had only a short time to live. His answer was he would write faster.

So my point, in turn, is this: if you want more time to write, take care of yourself. Your health is too important to skimp on. If you're unhealthy, your mentality changes, and what, if not your psychological take on the world, affects your writing?

Furthermore, we authors strive to make every aspect of our writing environment as comfortable as possible. We settle on the best pen or laptop, find a desk that will serve our style, go to lengths to shut out the rest of the world. Why not pay that same amount of respect and attention to yourself, the most important piece of equipment in the process?

Who has the time, you ask? I'd argue that we all have the time.

If you're anything like me, you don't just write while you're writing, right? You write all the time. If you're really like me, you sleep poorly when you do sleep because you're pestering yourself about how your character is going to possibly show up in scene with the so-and-so and still not be discovered, or something like that. You plan and plot while you're in the car, at the grocery store, in the shower, in the middle of conversations (sorry, dear).

So if I'm always writing, then I'm not really losing any time by working exercise into my routine. I may be losing some opportunities to actually put words down, but I find I write better a] when I've mentally prepared for the upcoming scene and b] when I've literally gotten my juices flowing.

I have a membership to a fitness club in my area. I go there three, sometimes four times a week. I work my core muscles and I spend time on the elliptical machine since it's low-impact. I stretch and I look around, like most authors do all the time. That's where the stories are. And I think about writing in general, scenes specifically and I don't feel like I've wasted a moment or become less of an author.

I recently wrote about the novel-length work I've been slogging through for the last year-and-a-half, The Letter From William Waiklin.

My wife had two points of criticism: she felt I had "given too much of the storyline away" and she didn't think my picture should appear on the back cover of the proposed artwork.

I scratched my forehead and gave her a confused look, both habits that bother her to no end. Why? Because they have each been linked separately to hair loss, I asked inside my head.

But I was genuinely unsure how other authors--and, in fact, whether authors themselves were the party responsible for the task--slapping together the short synopses on the backs of their books. I studied titles I had in my collection and found the examples to vary somewhat in how far they went to bait the reader into buying into the story.

Some synopses went the minimalistic route. Romances, in particular--not that I personally have a large selection of romances--seemed to give few details about the story. I'm guessing that is because the storylines share many similarities with other romances. The specifics tend not to be a buying factor. Again, I'm guessing, not being an expert.

Other titles' synopses went much further. I looked for a common reason why the authors (or whomever) found it necessary to put in so dangerously many details. Like my wife, weren't they afraid they'd be giving away the perfect storyline that they alone could have invented? And what reason would a reader have to purchase the book if the whole story was laid out for them?

Regarding the idea of another author lifting the storyline for their own purposes, I am not concerned. The fine specifics of how the story unfolds could really only be told by me. And I don't say that in a vain way. It's simply that I believe, as with painting or web design, both of which I've had a hand in, even if you set out to copy a work wholesale, the result will inevitably have marks, and not typically small marks, of the copier's style. You just can't hide it. In fiction, the opportunity for individual style avails itself at every moment. So for another author to "steal" my story, I believe, is an impossibility. Even if I were to sit down with him and give every twist and turn, each nuanced character trait I had spent months aligning to achieve the best story I could create, by the end of the test, I would have the book I am writing and he would have a different work. I believe I could defend myself as the original creator in the end.

Regarding giving away the farm to the reader, I decided that my synopses were not like a movie trailer, where not only do you get a more or less chronological run-through of the story, you get fed one visual take on the story. For me, this is the real reason a book synopses can afford to describe in more detail the essence of a story. So much is left to the reader's imagination.

As a reader reads, he is bringing to the experience everything he has seen in his life. The brown, antique table with scroll details that he sees is not the same table I envisioned when I keyed the passage. Again, the opportunity for a reader to bring his own flavor to the story avails itself in every line of the story.

So on both of the synopses-related counts, I've considered my wife's apprehensions and will leave it unchanged for the time being. 

Whether or not I should have placed my mug on the back cover, I am undecided. I've seen author pics on some books and not on others and I'm not sure if there are good reasons going one way or the other. Some attractive authors choose to leave themselves off, while some do not. The same holds true for the less fortunate authors. I'm guessing it's a matter of personal preference.

Whether or not I will leave my picture off the back cover is a matter of debate. Email me with your opinions on that matter as well, but I tend to trust the woman whom I've lived with, who has had to live with my mug beside her every day for the last nearly 19 years when she says don't go with the picture.

Today, I write primarily on my HP using Word. I am testing out Power Writer, a promising program that keeps all aspects of the story--background, characters, outline, etc.--in one file. I'm sure I'll have more to say about it as more time passes.

I am highly distractable, so I wear sound-cancelling headphones. Because lyrics and changes in music compete for my attention, I play New Age amorphic sounds. I've found The "So" Chord with Hemisync from Monroe Products to be ideal.

I tend to write at my favorite coffee house, Cafeggio in Stone Oak, a community in the northeast of San Antonio. It's a little too bright, but it's the closest, freest WiFi and the coffee beats Starbucks for my money. (Oh, and the grils who work there are pretty easy on the eye too, but don't tell the wife.)

I have a space at home dedicated to writing, but it's too in the middle of traffic for anything but very early or very late writing sessions, so I'll need to give some thought to a better spot.

I am thomas mcauley, a fiction writer (and website designer) living in San Antonio, Texas with my wife and sons.

From the age of four, writing has been my natural calling. My mother still swoons over the 2 x 2 inch, 8-page book, The Little Water Buffalo, with it's clumsily stapled edges.

My father built a writing desk into the wall of my bedroom when I was a young teen. I spent hours in that nearly soundproof space writing (mostly poetry), drawing and planning my fantasy punk/eletro band.

After exiting the U. S. Marines and while attending college in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, I turned to journaling at the local pizza shop.

I would sit for hours with my free refills and plate after plate of cheese-garlic bread, writing poetry, observations, anything in my quest to find myself.

When I married in 1989, writing suddenly did not fit well into my life anymore. I sadly and somewhat bitterly put the pen down. In the summer of 2006, I dreamed the beginning seeds of the novel I am currently working on. I restarted writing as if I had never taken the more than seventeen years off.

I believe the time away from writing has given me a unique persepctive as an author. All of my writing experience before that summer in 2006 had come from the child in me. Now as a man I have been able to pursue my craft in a calm and clear-headed manner. I think of the seventeen-year gap as a painful but necessary parting between lovers. I had to become the man I am today in order to pursue writing in the way that is right for me.

Frances Feck Is A Freckle Collector is a young teen novella about Dottie Polk, a well-liked, kind, accepting middle school girl who is bothered to no end about her freckles. One day, after being teased about them by the school bully, Frances Feck, a mysterious new girl, appears to Dottie and offers her a freckleless life. When Frances disappears on a skiing trip, there's no one to help Dottie when the freckle jar breaks and the freckles rush out, anxious to find new homes. Madness abounds :-)

Downhill is a short story about entry and transference. The point-of-view in this experimental story travels from character to character until, in the end, the reader is left staring at the ceiling without a host.

In Two Years is a short story that follows our hero from his learning that he will be imprisoned for the murder of his wife...drumroll...in two years. Our hero dedicates himself to insuring that future will not come to pass. The twist at the end is worth the read.

Anniverse is an erotic novella about a woman frustrated. She arrives at a plan to allow herself a holiday of sorts. For one day each year, she allows herself to live as if she's not married. Anything goes, but she only has one day. It's a mad rush and the clock is ticking.

In all the literature I've read and no matter which of the dozens of published or otherwise serious, professional-minded writers I've spoken to, the consistent advice is consistent.

1. Write every day, no matter what, where or how many words. 95% of my days are writing days. I know that I had better have a whopper of a reason if I go a day without. I am proud to feel like a loser on the rare day I skip, even when that whopper of a reason rears its devilish head.
    
2. Similarly, it is wise, if not necessary, to join a fellowship of writers. Perfect clubs, writing partners or critique groups do not exist so you shouldn't spend time looking for that perfect situation. The point is to be around people who are serious about writing. Doing so refreshes my batteries and reminds me that no matter how hard a problem with whatever aspect of my writing may be at the time, there are others out there who face and conquer the same challenges every day. They help me if I need help and I help them.
    
3. As obvious as it sounds, don't forget you're telling a reader a story. If you're getting into writing to publish, you've stepped into the dark side. Gone are the days when you can write strictly to see the ink flow or the pixels light up with your genius. Now you are telling a story, so you are obliged to cut out the extreneous crap, move the story ahead, stay on task and reward the reader wtih everything you've promised him throughout the writing. It's a good idea to do a fair amount of reading when you first get started. By reading the reviews, you can find plenty of good books.
    
4. Shut up. Stop thinking. Stop making excuses. And write. No matter how much other advice you get, including 1-3 above, it all boils down to this.

If I've learned anything besides the rules above, it's that a dedicated writer must always keep engaged and open to learning. If one thinks he has mastered writing, he's probably only mastered the opinions of the people he chooses to keep around him.

Always learn.

I have been tackling my first novel-length work for a little over a year now. Currently titled The Letter From William Waiklin, it is the story of a man who is delivered a letter addressed to him forty years before…twenty years before he was born. The letter is a warning from the past to not repeat the same mistakes which led the author of the letter, William Waiklin, to years of nightmarish and mystical isolation, trapped on the shoulder of time with his mind as his only freedom.

I'm in the last stages of the 2nd draft. if all goes as planned, the 300-page story will be ready for editorial review by mid-2008.