The beauty of Dickens is characters. There are alot of them, and they are richly crafted.

It is Christmas season again, which means I will soon be watching George C. Scott in my favorite version of Dicken’s Classic A Christmas Carol. The production is lavish, with most scenes shot in a historical early Victorian community that is akin to Historic Williamsburg. Mr. Scott is brilliant, capturing just the right tone for Scrooge.

There is a danger of portraying this man as evil, a one-dimensional Simon Legree. But if that were the case, then his soul could not be reclaimed, which is the lovely message of the story.

The beauty of Dickens is characters. There are a lot of them, and they are richly crafted. Scrooge is not described as an evil man. Rather, he and the Victorian business men he represents are seen as uninvolved, indifferent to society. As the old saying goes, the opposite of love is not hate, it is indifference. This idea is wonderfully illustrated in my favorite scene.

When Scrooge compliments the ghostly Marley that he was “Always a good man of business,” Jacob’s reply is not “Thank you.”

'Business!' cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. 'Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!'

The above is not only well written, it beautifully captures the essence of the message Dickens is trying to portray.

The only aspect of this TV version that strikes me as “wrong” is the relationship of Scrooge with his father (played by the great Brit character actor, Nigel Davenport). The movie shows Scrooge the Elder as a bitter old man, who although now disposed to take Eb back, still does not like or forgive him. Yet the point of the visit to the past is to teach lessons. And Schoolmaster Dickens uses the characters of Fan and her father to show that love and forgiveness are possible, and that Ebenezer himself was once the recipient of both. His father did indeed forgive him for causing the death of his mother in childbirth, just as he must now forgive his nephew for causing the death of his beloved sister, Fan.

Anyway, try and catch this version if you can. Or, reread Dickens on the topic, as I sometimes do. Both ways are highly rewarding.

For me, the fun of writing is being surprised at what happens next.

November was National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo or just plain NaNo). A time for would-be novelists throughout the country and the world to try their hand at penning a first draft in the 30 days of November. No one know why they chose a month with a big Holiday that eats up time and turkey (maybe it was the alliteration of novel and November).

I personally don’t like such efforts, because I think rushing yourself like that produces crap. But that being said, I did manage close to 30,000 words on the horror novel in November, and hopefully it is not crap. That effort puts me firmly in what thriller novelists refer to as the “mushy/muddled middle.”

It is typically felt that it is relatively easy (I use that word guardedly) to write the first quarter of a novel. I have several writer friends who introduce themselves as “starters of novels.” The last quarter deals with the climactic action, which is also thought to be less arduous. But the mushy middle needs to build the suspense and back story while keeping reader interest and moving the tale along. A tougher nut indeed.

Personally, I find the mushy middle to be like stumbling into a bog. You bounce along for two to three good steps, then your foot breaks through into mucky water that pulls you up short for a bit. So, I stumble along through the swamp, writing a few hundred tentative words per day before hitting the dry land of a plot twist that may run 3000 words in two days. Usually these oases come to me on the treadmill or while walking the dogs. Then it’s off to the computer to get them on the screen.

I also do at least some mind-mapping during the MM. For those unfamiliar with this term, a mind map is basically a formal doodle or an informal flow chart, whichever you prefer. One sketches out characters on a legal pad, along with possible actions and counter actions they may experience, drawing links and arrows and dotted lines. This can lead you to some interesting places and tie up some loose ends. At these times, I feel envious of the outliners, who think this all up ahead of time and then just mechanically write it down. But I couldn’t work that way. For me, the fun is being surprised by what happens next. Hopefully, that is fun for the reader as well.

Britt Ekland dancing nude ain't bad.

Our place in TN does not yet have cable TV, which is a mixed blessing. Although I miss my beloved boob tube, it does give me the opportunity to read and to watch some great old movies on DVD. This Holiday week, I viewed two great films with horror master Christopher Lee.

First on the agenda was a bawdy comedy from 1979 called Serial. It stars Martin Mull, and if you have not seen it – it’s hilarious. It’s all about the “new age” lifestyle of Marin County California, with everyone sleeping around, trying new psychological therapies, and popping Quaaludes the way people now pop Xanex. Christopher Lee plays Mr. Luckman, who is a corporate tycoon during the week, and a gay biker-gang leader named Skull on the weekends. I don’t think I need to say anymore.

The second film was a very offbeat horror story called simply, The Wicker Man. I’m not going to spoil the ending, but suffice it to say that it was so visibly riveting that I thought about getting the novel to see if an author could capture it in words. Unfortunately, the book was written after the fact as a novelization, which often (in my experience) isn’t worth the money. That being said, I would recommend the 1973 film (skip the Nicolas Cage remake) to any horror fans as a must see. Britt Ekland dancing nude ain’t bad either.

I'm ready to admit I'm writing a horror novel

Well, the horror novel is moving right along – almost 17,000 words in two weeks. After 15,000 words, I thought it was okay to admit to myself that I was onto a novel here, as it was already too long for a short story unless your last name is King.

I’ve read a lot of horror fiction, most of it by the aforementioned King. But oddly enough, I had never attempted a horror novel. I must say that I am enjoying the experience, especially because the bloody thing is almost writing itself. Well, we shall see if that keeps up as I tackle the ‘muddled middle’ as they say in the thriller biz. Around that point, I typically hit a slow patch in which I can’t think how to proceed. I plod along until I hit the Eureka! epiphany (usually while walking on the treadmill).

I’ll keep you posted.

It couldn't be done.

I’m no poet, and read mostly prose. But I will admit to reading some Poe, Frost, or Kipling rhymes from time to time. In honor of the presidential election just past, I’d like to offer this doggerel by Edgar Guest. It’s entitled simply, “It Couldn’t be Done.”

Somebody said that it couldn’t be done,

     But he with a chuckle replied

That “maybe it couldn’t,” but he would be one

     Who wouldn’t say so till he’d tried.

So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin

     On his face. If he worried he hid it.

He started to sing as he tackled the thing

     That couldn’t be done, and he did it.

Somebody scoffed: “Oh, you’ll never do that;

     At least no one ever has done it”;

But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,

     And the first thing we knew he’d begun it.

With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,

     Without any doubting or quiddit,

He started to sing as he tackled the thing

     That couldn’t be done, and he did it.

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,

     There are thousands to prophesy failure;

There are thousands to point out to you one by one,

     The dangers that wait to assail you.

But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,

     Just take off your coat and go to it;

Just start in to sing as you tackle the thing

     That “cannot be done,” and you’ll do it.

For one day, I wrote like Stephen King.

The horror novel goes well, with words still flowing from my head onto the computer screen. Today, I wrote 2100 words, which is a Stephen King level of effort. And I wrote it in about the same amount of time, maybe four hours. So I guess you could say that for one day, I wrote like Stephen King. J

I’ve gotten some new ideas for direction, and have added a new character. But besides having a general mental outline, I don’t really know where all this is going yet. As SK says, that’s the fun of it.

Vive la difference!

One thing I’ve always enjoyed about Elmore Leonard, besides the fact that he is a Detroit boy like me, is the lack of formula in his writing. Strong voice, yes, formula, no. His Westerns are very different from the formulaic Zane Greys and Louis L’Amours. The Hot Kid was a very different novel than Get Shorty, and both stretched well beyond the standard thriller formula. Now I am reading Touch, his oddest story yet, and loving it.

I read that Leonard had difficulty selling Touch, even though he was an established best seller. His first publisher reluctantly picked it up, then sat on it for two years. So, Dutch retrieved it, as he was contractually allowed to do, and sold it elsewhere. Despite all this, he’s stated that it was some of his best writing, and I would agree. Yet, it is still one of his least read works.

Stephen King is another one that stretches the genre mold, sometimes breaking it, sometimes just changing its shape to scare us in an unexpected way. With both him and Leonard, you come away with the feeling of having experienced something new, rather than another rehash with changes in only the location, macguffin, and a few characters. Vive la difference!

Sometimes you don't have to dig too deep to find whatever it is.

Recently finished Stephen King’s On Writing. King has an interesting philosophy on the creative process. Michelangelo used to say that the figure was already in the stone, he just removed unnecessary bits. King likewise believes that stories already exist like artifacts, it just takes a careful archeologist to reveal them without mucking them up. He may have something there.

I had a dream a couple of nights ago; something vague about which I don’t remember much. But thinking about it that morning led to a train of thought that in turn led to an idea for a horror story. I’d been toying with the idea of writing a horror novel, and had just read Stephen King, so I guess I was primed. Anyway, the idea came to me so vividly that I immediately sat down at my computer and started on a draft. Over the next twenty minutes, 750 words wrote themselves, complete with several juicy characters. Today that word total is around 2500. So maybe King is correct and the story was just sitting around my subconscious like an artifact. Bear in mind, I don’t know yet whether I uncovered a shard of pottery or an intact Etruscan vase. But sometimes you don’t have to dig too deep to find whatever it is.