How to F*** up great literature.

I’m a big fan of Edgar A Poe, one of the giants of macabre fiction. His works are among my favorites when I do dramatic readings. I love making pieces like The Raven, Tell-tale Heart, and Cask of Amontillado come to chilling life for an audience. So, I was delighted to hear that the Edgar Allen Poe Speakeasy was coming to Maryville. My wife and I attended last night after I came home from WordFest.

I saw ads on Facebook for this event, in which they serve cocktails in a spooky atmosphere while performers present the works of the master. What’s not to like? As it turns out, quite a lot.

On a positive note, the crew made a good attempt at creating a spooky atmosphere, although you can only do some much with a hundred wooden chairs in the front of a banquet hall. I cut them some slack because of the limited venues available in Maryville. There were spooky lighting and a bit of artificial fog, as well as eerie music. So, A for effort.

Now the drinks. I’d have to give these a C. They tried to provide themed cocktails, using amontillado wine in one and some period spices in others. But these were weak and extremely watered down, no doubt from sitting in the back on big trays waiting for the venue to start. Suffice it to say, we ran no risk of violating the legal BAC limit on the drive home. 😊

As to the performances themselves? They probably get a D. Several pieces were presented, including The Pit and the Pendulum, The Cask of Amontillado, Anabelle Lee, and Fall of the House of Usher. But I was surprised to see that these were not dramatic readings but memorized performances. While I give the actors credit for learning so much monologue, they unfortunately paraphrased at times. The material was also shortened in some spots, which I can forgive due to time constraints. What I cannot forgive is that material was added, usually of a comic nature, which detracted from the suspense of the pieces. One should not rewrite great works of literature in order to ham them up for cheap laughs, especially not such iconicly eerie and suspenseful material. This reflects poorly on the ability of the actors to legitimately elicit an audience response.

Speaking of the acting, it was less than stellar. People spoke too quickly and slurred words, making it difficult to hear and understand. And if the audience can’t understand you, you’ve already lost them. Furthermore, the performers seemed to think that histrionics, over-the-top comic displays, and shouting were the way to interpret suspense and drama.

I was again struck by the attempt to add additional material of a comic nature. These works are not inherently funny and adding slapstick and anachronistic references does not make them so, it only detracts from the tension and beauty of the writing. If you are going to do that, go all the way and make it a spoof of Poe, which might have been funny. This was neither fish nor fowl, a little of both and a lot of neither.

Only the recitation of Annabelle Lee stood out. The young lady spoke clearly and forthrightly, allowing the loveliness of the writing to shine without any vaudevillian schtick. Bravo.

One to happier thoughts. I had lovely chats the past month or so with some nice podcast folks, namely Denny Jam and The DateKeepers. I’ll pass on links when these go live.

Peace!

I watched Red so I read Red.

One of the joys of reading the source material from favorite movies is experiencing the way the original author cast the story. The twists and turns that weren’t in the movie, or vice versa. How the characters changed. Sometimes you like the book better than the movie. Sometime the movie version is best. But occasionally, the book and movie are so close that reading the novel is almost like rewatching the movie.

I watched the movie Red a few weeks ago. It is an interesting and disturbing character study about the effects of privilege, lax parenting, and dealing with grief. The movie starred Brian Cox and was good but disturbing (for me especially) because it involved the brutal killing of a pet dog. However, I was intrigued enough to read the novel by Jack Ketchum. With one or two minor changes, it was almost identical to the movie. But the writing was good, so it was a worthwhile read.

Another story along the same lines was The Gypsy Moths, a character study set in the world of skydiving. I rewatched the movie recently (first saw it in the theater when I was 13). It has a great cast, including Burt Lancaster, Gene Hackman, Scot Wilson, and Deborah Kerr. It is a slow-paced but thought-provoking movie, with terrific acting. The source material is a novel by James Drought. I picked up a used copy of the book online and found that with one or two minor changes, it was again very similar to the movie. It was a bit overwritten for my taste (too much description), but at only 128 pages it was worth finishing. As with the movie, I found it slow paced but thought-provoking.

I guess you can’t judge a book by its cover, but can sometimes judge a book by its movie.

Overwriting

Elmore Leonard is one of my favorite authors. In his rules for writing, he advises not describing things unless they advance either character or plot. That is to say, we don’t need exquisite detail on the maid’s uniform unless it reveals something important about her or the story. Ditto, a minor character’s shoes or the lawyer’s office. This is one aspect of overwriting that is common, even among some well known authors. James Mitchner has been criticized for providing way too much backstory and detail in some of his historical tomes.

On a more basic level, overwriting can be summed up by Strunk and White’s famous command to “remove unnecessary words.” This includes more than excessive description and exposition. It encompasses sentence structure and verb choice.

One of the problems with being a fiction writer is that you can no longer read with a carefree eye. You notice issues such as clichés, repetition, and especially overwriting.

I’m reading a technothriller by a fairly popular horror author. I won’t mention the name because it’s not important and because the story is by and large pretty good. Yet, I see lots of examples of overwriting.

One example is overuse of start/begin. Instead of writing ‘she screamed’ or ‘he ran,’ this author frequently writes ‘she started to scream’ or he ‘began to run.’ Unless one intends to stifle that action, such as, ‘she started to scream but it caught in her throat,’ it’s best to be direct.

Another problem is describing details of an action in lieu of a simpler, more interesting verb. In this book that I’m reading, the author writes that a woman ‘moved her feet faster on the pedals.’ Wouldn’t it be simpler and more direct to state ‘she pedaled faster.’ Pedaled is a better verb that negates the need to describe how her feet are moving.  

A third common problem that I see frequently is inclusion of words that are implied by the action. When opening an outside window, one needs not say, ‘cold rushed in from outside.’ It is sufficient to say, ‘cold rushed in.’ Likewise, you don’t need to say ‘her heart pounded in her chest.’ Where else would it pound? In her nose?

All forms of overwriting tend to produce reader fatigue. Over the course of a three-hundred-page novel, reader fatigue can lead to reader tossing the book aside instead of finishing it (and hopefully enjoying it). So, be kind to your readers and look for overwriting in your own fiction. They’ll thank you for it.

Is a great movie always based on a great novel?

There is an old saying that ‘the novel is always better than the movie.’ But is that always the case?

A lot of people don’t want to read a book once they’ve seen its cinematic adaptation. I’m a bit of an odd duck (in lots of ways 😊) because I like to read the source material for movies that I particularly enjoy. I love to see how the two differ, how they’re the same, and whether the quality of the writing holds up to the excellence of the move.

In August, I’m going to be chatting with my friend Andrew Stamper on The Stamper Cinema podcast. We’ll be reviewing Jackie Brown, which is a perfect film in my opinion. The movie is based on the Elmore Leonard novel Rum Punch, which is also a favorite of mine. Other instances in which I love both the novel and the movie include The Exorcist, The Godfather, and Valdez is coming. But I’ve found a lot of mismatches as well.

One of my favorite westerns is One-Eyed Jacks, starring and directed by Marlon Brando. The source material for this classic western is The Authentic Death of Hendry Jones by Charles Neider, which I found to be so-so. Likewise, I’m a big fan of the WWI adventure movie, The Blue Max, but the novel by the same name is very different and kind of boring. The Hustler with Paul Newman is perhaps my favorite low-budget movie, but I found the novel by Walter Tevis to be a bit bland.   

So, at least in my case, the old adage that the ‘the book is always better than the movie’ rings hollow. But I still enjoy finding out.

Write a lot and rewrite a lot.

Everyone writes at their own pace. Stephen King sets a daily count of 2000 words, although he’s a phenom. Most writers settle for five hundred to a thousand. One of my literary heroes, Ernest Hemingway, used to say that four-thousand words was a good week. I’ve always used that as a guidepost.

That’s not to say that I always make the mark. A distracted week rife with writer’s block and wheel spinning may top out at two thousand words. A week with travel or holiday parties my be zilch. But the thing is to keep plugging. The only one who can stop you being a writer is you.

Stephen King is quoted as saying “You need to write a lot. You need to rewrite a lot. When you’re not writing or rewriting, you need to read a lot. I don’t know of any short cuts.” Good advice.

If you haven’t seen any of my podcast interviews, here’s a link to my recent chat with Joey Calvo. https://www.youtube.com/live/cdxgOtltD8Q?si=g72dsLvzUYD6vUng

Podcast marketing.

It is often said that story trumps writing. I would add that ofttimes marketing trumps both. This is why we see mediocre tales become NY Times best sellers.

The hardest part of writing books is often selling them. We writers are typically not the best marketers. Writing is a solitary and insular profession, while marketing by its nature is gregarious and outgoing.

In my marketing endeavors, I try to do a little something every week. Social media posts here. A newsletter there. A library event somewhere else. One of my favorite marketing activities is appearing on podcasts.

Podcasts appeal to the ham actor in me and they can potentially reach hundreds to thousands of readers. I’m fortunate that my background is interesting enough to attract podcast hosts, so I am able to do a couple every month.

Yesterday, I appeared on the Hidden Gem podcast with writers Roland Hulme and Craig Tuch. We focused on how I’ve used “what if” to formulate plots and move them forward. It was a fun hour, and should be interesting for readers. I’ll post on social media when the podcast airs.

A few weeks ago, I had a nice chat with Virginia Grenier, one of the hosts for Language of the Souls. That interview is available now at: https://www.buzzsprout.com/2267353/episodes/16203837. Meanwhile, here’s the promo:

“Thrills, chills, and storytelling skills! Listen as John Bukowski discusses his journey from science to suspense. Explore the therapeutic power of fiction and its role in facing existential threats on #LanguageOfTheSoul.”

I’ve also recently chatted with Robbie Ross on Conversations Ignite. You can check that one out at  https://open.spotify.com/show/27U9FaNjBAnNplzSC6SksN 

Two podcasts are currently slated for February. I’ll be speaking with Dr. Julio Caba on the Empowering Humans podcast, and with Corwin Johnson on the CJ Moneyway Show. I’ll let you know when those become available for viewing.

In the meantime, don’t forget to buy your copies of Checkout Time (www.checkouttimenovel.com) and Project Suicide (www.projectsuicidenovel.com). You can email me at johnb@thrillerjohnb.net if you would like a signed copy. Amazon reviews are always welcome.

Show don't tell and the death of a master

Every year, a lot of celebrities pass away. For some, I’ll marvel that they were still alive after so long, for others that they passed at such a young age. But every once in a while, the passing will affect me emotionally. Such was the case when Charlton Heston died in 2008. More recently, it was the passing of Kris Kristofferson.

He wasn’t a favorite singer—his voice was more a croak. Nor was he a favorite actor of mine, although he acted quite well. It was his song writing that I loved. The lyrics were rich and emotionally charge, the phrasing unusual.

It is often said that writers should show not tell. Kristofferson was a master at that. As an example, I’ll use my favorite of his songs—Sunday Morning coming down.

Kristofferson tries to describe a loser waking up lonely on a Sunday with a hangover and more regrets about the past than hope for the future. But he doesn’t say that. Instead, he says…

            I woke up Sunday morning with no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt.

            And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad, so I had one more for dessert.

            Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes to find my cleanest dirty shirt.

Hangover and drinking problem are never stated, but he gets the point across dramatically. Likewise loser. The rest of the song is much the same, with wistful notice taken of everyday experiences such as laughing children, church bells ringing, and the nostalgic smell of frying chicken. Things that he’d lost somewhere somehow along the way. I wish that I could write emotions that well.

Rest in peace Mr. K.

PS. I recently had an enjoyable chat with my friend Andrew Stamper of Stamper Cinema. We discussed a favorite film—Michael Mann’s Manhunter. You can checkout our discussion here.

Manhunter (with author John Bukowski)

Caveat Emptor!

Many years ago, I played Jonathon the psycho (type casting 😊) in a production of Arsenic and Old Lace. After a read-thru, one of the actors asked the director what a blackjack was. The director didn’t know either. I pointed out that it is a covered lead weight used to render people unconscious (in the series Blue Bloods, the cop patriarch calls it a slapper). The actor and director both looked amazed, and the young actor asked if I went home and read the dictionary. My response was no, but I do read.

Vocabulary is important to a writer. It allows you to pick the perfect word or phrase to describe a place or emotion. Vocabulary adds nuance and lets you focus your sentences around interesting action verbs. Vocabulary keeps the prose sounding fresh, rather than repetitious. Of course, it can be overdone, so that your work sounds pretentious or spooneristic (I think I invented this word 😊), but you get the idea.

The main way I improve my vocabulary is through reading fiction and history. Recently, I have added the online word game called Zen Word. It’s free and it’s supposed to be free of ads. This latter claim is BS, as there are many ads between levels. One of the most frequent ads is for an online solitaire game. There is nothing unusual about that, as solitaire is a widely played time passer among many age groups. But the solitaire game I’m referring to is a bit different—it’s a gambling version through PayPal.

Based on the ads, the target audience for this online gambling game seems to be young people, especially college kids. This makes sense, as young people game much more than older folks and often have a lot of disposable income. But the advertisers also tap into another aspect of youth—naivete. The focus of almost every ad is that it is so easy to win that you can use the game as an alternate source of income when you need money for gas or groceries. Heck, winning is so easy that you can make a career of it!

I guess you’d have to be young and naïve to believe that the odds are in your favor with any gambling game. The advertisers seem to be counting on the fact that the players won’t ask the basic question--“why would somebody start a game for the purposes of sending me money?” Where’s the profit in that?

I’ve come to believe that the modern education system has shamed logic out of the curriculum. This just seems to be another example.