I’ve concluded that I’m a closet romantic. I hide it well though, below layers and layers of testosterone-laden attitude.
Although I call it research, I watch chick-flicks frequently. Lately, thanks to Hulu, I’ve seen a series of formulaic romantic Christmas stories, too. They all end the same with a happy turn that dampens my eyes (don’t tell anyone). I thought it was worth a few moments of analytical thought on the subject.
The first question I asked myself was: Why will I watch a romantic movie but wouldn’t consider reading a romantic novel? I think it’s a valid question since I write novels and really want people to read my work. I don’t believe the answer is a difficult one at all.
A movie, you see, is over in less than two hours with little attachment to the characters, just a brief emotional moment near the end and, voila! It’s history, whereas, a novel is a true investment in the lives of the characters by the reader. Readers become attached to, or repelled by, the characters of a book and memorably so, if written well. These characters will live on and stay with the reader long after the book is finished. Not so with a movie, as a rule. In fact, I’ve watched many movies that I thoroughly enjoyed but a year later remembered only snippets of it, if at all.
I’ll go out on a limb and say that on a scale of how well a story is remembered would put a great movie, a blockbuster, on par with a mediocre novel. And, this is not a slam at the movie industry. It’s a simple matter of producers and directors not having adequate time to delve into the depths of each character. So, we, as viewers, don’t ever develop true emotional attachments to them.
In a novel, personalities are so well developed that we begin to identify with characters because they remind us of ourselves, spouses, siblings, children, or others in our lives and we actually put recognizable faces on them as we read. That’s just not so in movies.
If a movie attempted such depth of character, it would be a twenty-four hour movie, and that’s just not going to happen; no one would watch it. It would also cost as much to produce as the entire annual budget of some third-world countries.
So, I might be comfortable enough in my own skin to watch a romantic movie and enjoy it, but to read romance novels... well, that just might shatter a few self-imposed boundaries. To become attached to the characters of a romantic novel (and I certainly would) might cause my romantic side to come out, totally out. It wouldn’t be pretty.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/August 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
“Trouble”, short story/CrossTIME Science Fiction Anthology, Vol. IX
COMING IN 2011
“Defining Family”/Virtual Tales
“Annie’s World: Jake’s Legacy/Virtual Tales
Novelist
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright, Author
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Taking Care of Business
The infamous “They” say that the only two sure things in this life are death and taxes. I’d like to add to this list the certainty that people will always exist that want to take what is not theirs to take and they don’t care whom they harm in the process.
If anyone receives an email from my hotmail account (that begins with wrightthing), please disregard it. That email account has been hijacked and I no longer have control or even access to it. And, unfortunately, I don’t have enough information that is different from the hijacker’s to prove that it is indeed my email account. If the wrightthing email happens to be in your email contact list, eliminate it. And, I apologize if you get an email asking for $500 to finance my trip home from west Africa. I don’t need the money and I’m not in west Africa. I can’t say for sure if I’ll ever need $500 but I can say definitively I’ll never be in west Africa.
Now, on to happier things; I have a book signing scheduled for Saturday, November 13th, 10a till 2p at Hastings in Waco at Bosque Blvd and Valley Mills Drive. It will feature my latest novel, “The Last Radiant Heart” but I’ll also have available the popular earlier novel, “Paradise Flawed”.
If you’re within driving distance, please drop by so I can shake your hand.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/August 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
“Trouble”, short story/CrossTIME Science Fiction Anthology, Vol. IX
COMING IN 2011
“Defining Family”/Virtual Tales
“Annie’s World: Jake’s Legacy/Virtual Tales
If anyone receives an email from my hotmail account (that begins with wrightthing), please disregard it. That email account has been hijacked and I no longer have control or even access to it. And, unfortunately, I don’t have enough information that is different from the hijacker’s to prove that it is indeed my email account. If the wrightthing email happens to be in your email contact list, eliminate it. And, I apologize if you get an email asking for $500 to finance my trip home from west Africa. I don’t need the money and I’m not in west Africa. I can’t say for sure if I’ll ever need $500 but I can say definitively I’ll never be in west Africa.
Now, on to happier things; I have a book signing scheduled for Saturday, November 13th, 10a till 2p at Hastings in Waco at Bosque Blvd and Valley Mills Drive. It will feature my latest novel, “The Last Radiant Heart” but I’ll also have available the popular earlier novel, “Paradise Flawed”.
If you’re within driving distance, please drop by so I can shake your hand.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/August 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
“Trouble”, short story/CrossTIME Science Fiction Anthology, Vol. IX
COMING IN 2011
“Defining Family”/Virtual Tales
“Annie’s World: Jake’s Legacy/Virtual Tales
Monday, October 25, 2010
Just A Rant
Making a living, generating an income, is and always has been man’s foremost consideration. In the beginning it was simply bringing meat back to the cave (or wherever).
In modern times, little has changed except how that meat gets to be in the cave. These days, we beg the guy with the keys to where the meat is stored to allow us to serve him in some capacity so we might be sliced off a hunk each week (or month, or year) to take home to the hungry mate and offspring.
Now, for the point of this rambling; has anyone noticed lately what’s happening to the guy holding the key? He seems to be having as much trouble as the rest of us. That key he so jealously guarded now opens an empty locker. Small business is hurting because of the gross favoritism to the behemoths, those “too big to fail”. This is a disgusting and totally false premise. “Too big to fail” is simply catering to contributors and, maybe even, an excuse to begin the nationalization process. Smaller competitors would pick up the slack in a matter of months, if not weeks or days. “Too big to fail” is pure bunk and absolutely anti-American.
With unemployment at, or near, 10% means 1 out of every 10 Americans is without access to someone holding the keys.
I realize this may sound like a statement in favor of one political party or the other, but it goes far beyond that. While Washington, Democrats and Republicans, battle it out in a popularity contest for their “entitlement” to lifelong luxury at our expense, they seem blind to the fact that the well they so liberally dip from is drying up. The only difference between the parties is what they spend money on. They both spend huge amounts to fund a bloated system, most of which need not exist at all. A huge portion of the bureaucracy could collapse and go away; no would miss it.
Does anyone remember the MMS (Mineral Management Services)? Who even knew it existed before the BP spill in the Gulf? Lo and behold, come to find out, they regulated or controlled nothing and did only what the oil companies expected of them. They rubber stamped everything oil companies sent their way. Congress was up in arms and incensed over that news, like it was some kind of revelation and they had no idea oil companies had that much influence.
We need to wake up. Of course they knew! They, too, are recipients of that very same money machine. The puffing up with indignation was for show to the American public, and only occurred because the word got out that MMS controlled or supervised nothing. All the hearings lambasting BP and TransOceanic and even all the banks and car companies before those, were purely for show. Nothing... absolutely nothing of substance came from any of those hearings. The final chapter of this little drama is the simple fact that no one is talking about it any longer and MMS is back to drawing their government paychecks and doing whatever it is that bureaucrats do that have no impact on the business of government. How many other bureaucracies exist that are blips on the landscape, yet cost hundreds of millions of dollar each year?
As crass as it may sound, all (yes, I said all) decisions are first and foremost made to garner favor from those in control of the big coin purses, and it begins with the thought, “Now, what can I get out of this for myself?”
If some benefit is inadvertently bestowed upon the masses for the greater good, it’s an unexpected side effect and not the reason. But, it will be utilized by our, so-called, leaders come next election so they might use it as campaign fodder to extend their “entitlement” one more term.
No, this is not at all an issue of which party should be in power; it’s an issue of the people exerting influence over the parties because both are much more interested in preserving a power base than the health and future of this country. The machine is broken and those in charge are deaf to its grinding gears.
Everyone is aware that Congress votes itself pay raises with no discussion. Anyone care? Everyone knows that they have the best and cheapest health care in the country. Anyone care? Everyone knows that they retire with pensions that will keep them in the top ten percent of “wage” earners in this country. Anyone care?
And, here’s one I wasn’t even aware of until this week. If you or I have advance knowledge of a company’s good fortune through employees of that company and invest money on that information then we’ll be thrown in jail for insider trading. But, if a congressman or senator learns of things through the course of government business about such future things and they invest then they are immune to prosecution. Why?
It’s simple; those that make the laws, make them to protect themselves not us.
The only way to begin changing things is to abandon all party affiliations and vote out incumbents. It doesn’t matter who fills the seat. They need to learn, again, this country is all about the will of people and their jobs in government are public service and not any form of entitlement meant to enrich them personally. After serving, they should go home, get jobs and live under the laws that they passed. But, if the people give up their right, then this corruption will continue. Corruption is a dirty word, but I can’t think of a better one. And, we the people, allow it. Shame on us.
You may not agree with any of this. But, you have to admit, it’s a pretty good collective poke to get us all out to the polls and start voting for real leaders and stop voting for people just because we recognize their names. It’s not a popularity contest! It’s our future!
Now, I need a job. Any suggestions?
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/August 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
“Trouble”, short story/CrossTIME Science Fiction Anthology, Vol. IX
In modern times, little has changed except how that meat gets to be in the cave. These days, we beg the guy with the keys to where the meat is stored to allow us to serve him in some capacity so we might be sliced off a hunk each week (or month, or year) to take home to the hungry mate and offspring.
Now, for the point of this rambling; has anyone noticed lately what’s happening to the guy holding the key? He seems to be having as much trouble as the rest of us. That key he so jealously guarded now opens an empty locker. Small business is hurting because of the gross favoritism to the behemoths, those “too big to fail”. This is a disgusting and totally false premise. “Too big to fail” is simply catering to contributors and, maybe even, an excuse to begin the nationalization process. Smaller competitors would pick up the slack in a matter of months, if not weeks or days. “Too big to fail” is pure bunk and absolutely anti-American.
With unemployment at, or near, 10% means 1 out of every 10 Americans is without access to someone holding the keys.
I realize this may sound like a statement in favor of one political party or the other, but it goes far beyond that. While Washington, Democrats and Republicans, battle it out in a popularity contest for their “entitlement” to lifelong luxury at our expense, they seem blind to the fact that the well they so liberally dip from is drying up. The only difference between the parties is what they spend money on. They both spend huge amounts to fund a bloated system, most of which need not exist at all. A huge portion of the bureaucracy could collapse and go away; no would miss it.
Does anyone remember the MMS (Mineral Management Services)? Who even knew it existed before the BP spill in the Gulf? Lo and behold, come to find out, they regulated or controlled nothing and did only what the oil companies expected of them. They rubber stamped everything oil companies sent their way. Congress was up in arms and incensed over that news, like it was some kind of revelation and they had no idea oil companies had that much influence.
We need to wake up. Of course they knew! They, too, are recipients of that very same money machine. The puffing up with indignation was for show to the American public, and only occurred because the word got out that MMS controlled or supervised nothing. All the hearings lambasting BP and TransOceanic and even all the banks and car companies before those, were purely for show. Nothing... absolutely nothing of substance came from any of those hearings. The final chapter of this little drama is the simple fact that no one is talking about it any longer and MMS is back to drawing their government paychecks and doing whatever it is that bureaucrats do that have no impact on the business of government. How many other bureaucracies exist that are blips on the landscape, yet cost hundreds of millions of dollar each year?
As crass as it may sound, all (yes, I said all) decisions are first and foremost made to garner favor from those in control of the big coin purses, and it begins with the thought, “Now, what can I get out of this for myself?”
If some benefit is inadvertently bestowed upon the masses for the greater good, it’s an unexpected side effect and not the reason. But, it will be utilized by our, so-called, leaders come next election so they might use it as campaign fodder to extend their “entitlement” one more term.
No, this is not at all an issue of which party should be in power; it’s an issue of the people exerting influence over the parties because both are much more interested in preserving a power base than the health and future of this country. The machine is broken and those in charge are deaf to its grinding gears.
Everyone is aware that Congress votes itself pay raises with no discussion. Anyone care? Everyone knows that they have the best and cheapest health care in the country. Anyone care? Everyone knows that they retire with pensions that will keep them in the top ten percent of “wage” earners in this country. Anyone care?
And, here’s one I wasn’t even aware of until this week. If you or I have advance knowledge of a company’s good fortune through employees of that company and invest money on that information then we’ll be thrown in jail for insider trading. But, if a congressman or senator learns of things through the course of government business about such future things and they invest then they are immune to prosecution. Why?
It’s simple; those that make the laws, make them to protect themselves not us.
The only way to begin changing things is to abandon all party affiliations and vote out incumbents. It doesn’t matter who fills the seat. They need to learn, again, this country is all about the will of people and their jobs in government are public service and not any form of entitlement meant to enrich them personally. After serving, they should go home, get jobs and live under the laws that they passed. But, if the people give up their right, then this corruption will continue. Corruption is a dirty word, but I can’t think of a better one. And, we the people, allow it. Shame on us.
You may not agree with any of this. But, you have to admit, it’s a pretty good collective poke to get us all out to the polls and start voting for real leaders and stop voting for people just because we recognize their names. It’s not a popularity contest! It’s our future!
Now, I need a job. Any suggestions?
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/August 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
“Trouble”, short story/CrossTIME Science Fiction Anthology, Vol. IX
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Just Wanted To Share
I received an email this morning from a person I haven't seen in several decades and she commented on my latest novel, "The Last Radiant Heart". I wanted to share it:
I just have to tell you that I am sitting in my patio room, listening to my Blue Lacys bark at a a 'possum and to flamenco guitar playing on the stereo....and I just read the first chapter of The Last Radiant Heart. I could read no further without telling you how brilliant it is. I mean it and I can't wait to read the next chapter and this email in interrupting me so goodbye! Talk to you later, my re-discovered friend. -Brenda
If you haven't bought my latest novel, "The Last Radiant Heart", please do. I promise it's a great read. While you're thinking about it check out my other titles. http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B002NKB2PC
I just have to tell you that I am sitting in my patio room, listening to my Blue Lacys bark at a a 'possum and to flamenco guitar playing on the stereo....and I just read the first chapter of The Last Radiant Heart. I could read no further without telling you how brilliant it is. I mean it and I can't wait to read the next chapter and this email in interrupting me so goodbye! Talk to you later, my re-discovered friend. -Brenda
If you haven't bought my latest novel, "The Last Radiant Heart", please do. I promise it's a great read. While you're thinking about it check out my other titles. http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B002NKB2PC
Monday, October 4, 2010
The Contrarian
I’ve always been one and never realized it, until I received the latest publisher rejection letter. And, I’m not sure whether I need to hang my head in shame or stand proudly and wear it like a badge of honor.
Okay, that’s enough set-up suspense. I’m referring to the fact that I am a contrarian.
Reflection on it began when a Houston publisher sent me a very nice rejection letter on a manuscript I’d queried him on. He complimented the writing, the structure and the style and then he let the bomb fall by stating he didn’t think it would sell. That began a rampant flow of analytical juices flowing through my brain.
I’ve always been told to write what I know about. I’ve been doing that; and did on that particular manuscript, too. But, if it won’t sell, what’s the point... personal satisfaction? Here’s where my drummer splits from the parade and heads out alone; you know, that different drummer we always hear about.
When I first began writing novels, working with things I had knowledge of actually never crossed my mind as the intelligent choice. I just did it, but for a totally different reason than you might imagine. It was a conscious choice to not write another military, detective, cop, espionage, or medical thriller. There are many fine authors that are all over those genres and, at any given time, half or more are on the New York Times Best Seller List. Smart money said do it. But, I had to be the contrarian and take my chances in less plowed fields.
Once I figured out that that choice would likely keep me on the verge of destitution, it became clear that I’ve always had a penchant for going against the norm. That was not an isolated case.
If everyone is cheering one team, I’m quietly rooting for the other. If market advisers are saying some stock is the buy of the century, I’m looking at a little known competitor struggling to stay in business (I’ve lost lots of money thinking that way). At a party, when all the guys were buzzing around some blonde chick like green flies on a manure heap, I drifted over to the girl standing alone and appearing amazed by the pattern on the wallpaper. I could go on but I think you get the point.
So, you see, this behavior is nothing new. It’s just that I’ve finally realized it and in the process of accepting it. I, honestly, have risked too much in my life harboring opposing views and, sometimes for no good reason. Still, I’ve come to believe it’s not what I am but who I am. Is that so bad?
I do realize now that if I’d chosen to go along with popular beliefs more frequently in my life, I may have been driving a luxury car and living in an expensive loft somewhere by now. I suppose though, if I’m going to be a contrarian, I might as well be the best one I can be.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/August 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
“Trouble”, short story/CrossTIME Science Fiction Anthology, Vol. IX
Okay, that’s enough set-up suspense. I’m referring to the fact that I am a contrarian.
Reflection on it began when a Houston publisher sent me a very nice rejection letter on a manuscript I’d queried him on. He complimented the writing, the structure and the style and then he let the bomb fall by stating he didn’t think it would sell. That began a rampant flow of analytical juices flowing through my brain.
I’ve always been told to write what I know about. I’ve been doing that; and did on that particular manuscript, too. But, if it won’t sell, what’s the point... personal satisfaction? Here’s where my drummer splits from the parade and heads out alone; you know, that different drummer we always hear about.
When I first began writing novels, working with things I had knowledge of actually never crossed my mind as the intelligent choice. I just did it, but for a totally different reason than you might imagine. It was a conscious choice to not write another military, detective, cop, espionage, or medical thriller. There are many fine authors that are all over those genres and, at any given time, half or more are on the New York Times Best Seller List. Smart money said do it. But, I had to be the contrarian and take my chances in less plowed fields.
Once I figured out that that choice would likely keep me on the verge of destitution, it became clear that I’ve always had a penchant for going against the norm. That was not an isolated case.
If everyone is cheering one team, I’m quietly rooting for the other. If market advisers are saying some stock is the buy of the century, I’m looking at a little known competitor struggling to stay in business (I’ve lost lots of money thinking that way). At a party, when all the guys were buzzing around some blonde chick like green flies on a manure heap, I drifted over to the girl standing alone and appearing amazed by the pattern on the wallpaper. I could go on but I think you get the point.
So, you see, this behavior is nothing new. It’s just that I’ve finally realized it and in the process of accepting it. I, honestly, have risked too much in my life harboring opposing views and, sometimes for no good reason. Still, I’ve come to believe it’s not what I am but who I am. Is that so bad?
I do realize now that if I’d chosen to go along with popular beliefs more frequently in my life, I may have been driving a luxury car and living in an expensive loft somewhere by now. I suppose though, if I’m going to be a contrarian, I might as well be the best one I can be.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/August 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
“Trouble”, short story/CrossTIME Science Fiction Anthology, Vol. IX
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
The Last Radiant Heart Debut
Last weekend, I debuted my new novel, “The Last Radiant Heart”, at a book signing at Hastings in Lubbock, Texas and the next day thirty miles down the road in Brownfield.
Two reasons for these two locations: Part of the setting and plot in LRH are near these two towns and, secondly, I grew up there. Both were successful and I want to thank everyone for caring enough to stop by, visit and buy my book.
I hope everyone within the scope of this blog will pick up a copy today. I invite you to go to www.virtualtales.com where you’ll be able to read the first four chapters. I’m positive you’ll find it entertaining and invite your comments about it at wrightthing@hotmail.com .
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/August 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
“Trouble”, short story/CrossTIME Science Fiction Anthology, Vol. IX
Two reasons for these two locations: Part of the setting and plot in LRH are near these two towns and, secondly, I grew up there. Both were successful and I want to thank everyone for caring enough to stop by, visit and buy my book.
I hope everyone within the scope of this blog will pick up a copy today. I invite you to go to www.virtualtales.com where you’ll be able to read the first four chapters. I’m positive you’ll find it entertaining and invite your comments about it at wrightthing@hotmail.com .
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/August 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
“Trouble”, short story/CrossTIME Science Fiction Anthology, Vol. IX
Monday, September 20, 2010
Press Release - "The Last Radiant Heart"
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Now in Print & eBook: THE LAST RADIANT HEART by Texas Author Daniel Lance Wright
Vancouver, WA (USA) — September 17, 2010 — Virtual Tales, a privately held publisher of trade paperbacks, eBooks, and eSerials spanning a variety of fiction genres and styles, announced the paperback release of the science fiction novel THE LAST RADIANT HEART by Waco, Texas author Daniel Lance Wright. This enthralling time-travel novel tells the story of Jack Dane, a reporter who would have preferred insanity to the truth about his family. But the unwanted power within him can be invoked whether he wills it or not, and will take him and his friends on a paranormal adventure that will shatter his ability to believe.
Ask for THE LAST RADIANT HEART at your favorite bookstore, or buy it online at the Virtual Tales website, Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble and many other outlets. It is available in most eBook formats through Amazon Kindle, Barnes & Noble, Books on Board, Diesel eBooks, eBookMall, eReader.com, FictionWise, the iBookstore, Mobipocket, Powells, Kobe (ShortCovers), the Sony Reader Store, Virtual Tales, Waterstones, WHSmith and many other outlets worldwide. It is also available as an eSerial exclusively through the Virtual Tales website. Interested readers can view the first four chapters of THE LAST RADIANT HEART for free by visiting the Virtual Tales website, or by sending an empty email to radiant-heart@virtualtales.com.
THE LAST RADIANT HEART
Genre: Science Fiction
Print
Paperback: 218 pages
ISBN-13:978-1-935460-38-1
ISBN-10:1-935460-38-2
Library of Congress Control Number: 2010935467
Retail Price: $13.95 USD
eBook
ISBN-13: 978-1-935460-40-4
ISBN-10: 1-935460-40-4
Price: $6.95 USD
Virtual Tales is a privately held partnership founded in 2006 to publish original works of general and genre fiction in multiple formats, including print, eBooks and eSerials. Trade paperbacks are available through Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble and other outlets throughout the world. eBooks are offered in a variety of formats, including ePub, MobiPocket, Microsoft Reader, Amazon/Kindle and Adobe Acrobat. eSerials are delivered through email as Adobe Acrobat (PDF) files suitable for reading on a PC, Mac, PDA, eReader, mobile phone and other devices. Virtual Tales is based in Vancouver, Washington, just north of Portland, Oregon on the west coast of the United States.
# # #
FOR MORE INFORMATION:
Sheri Gormley, sheri@virtualtales.com, +1-208.352.0396
Now in Print & eBook: THE LAST RADIANT HEART by Texas Author Daniel Lance Wright
Vancouver, WA (USA) — September 17, 2010 — Virtual Tales, a privately held publisher of trade paperbacks, eBooks, and eSerials spanning a variety of fiction genres and styles, announced the paperback release of the science fiction novel THE LAST RADIANT HEART by Waco, Texas author Daniel Lance Wright. This enthralling time-travel novel tells the story of Jack Dane, a reporter who would have preferred insanity to the truth about his family. But the unwanted power within him can be invoked whether he wills it or not, and will take him and his friends on a paranormal adventure that will shatter his ability to believe.
Ask for THE LAST RADIANT HEART at your favorite bookstore, or buy it online at the Virtual Tales website, Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble and many other outlets. It is available in most eBook formats through Amazon Kindle, Barnes & Noble, Books on Board, Diesel eBooks, eBookMall, eReader.com, FictionWise, the iBookstore, Mobipocket, Powells, Kobe (ShortCovers), the Sony Reader Store, Virtual Tales, Waterstones, WHSmith and many other outlets worldwide. It is also available as an eSerial exclusively through the Virtual Tales website. Interested readers can view the first four chapters of THE LAST RADIANT HEART for free by visiting the Virtual Tales website, or by sending an empty email to radiant-heart@virtualtales.com.
THE LAST RADIANT HEART
Genre: Science Fiction
Paperback: 218 pages
ISBN-13:978-1-935460-38-1
ISBN-10:1-935460-38-2
Library of Congress Control Number: 2010935467
Retail Price: $13.95 USD
eBook
ISBN-13: 978-1-935460-40-4
ISBN-10: 1-935460-40-4
Price: $6.95 USD
Virtual Tales is a privately held partnership founded in 2006 to publish original works of general and genre fiction in multiple formats, including print, eBooks and eSerials. Trade paperbacks are available through Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble and other outlets throughout the world. eBooks are offered in a variety of formats, including ePub, MobiPocket, Microsoft Reader, Amazon/Kindle and Adobe Acrobat. eSerials are delivered through email as Adobe Acrobat (PDF) files suitable for reading on a PC, Mac, PDA, eReader, mobile phone and other devices. Virtual Tales is based in Vancouver, Washington, just north of Portland, Oregon on the west coast of the United States.
# # #
FOR MORE INFORMATION:
Sheri Gormley, sheri@virtualtales.com, +1-208.352.0396
Saturday, September 18, 2010
No Time For Negativity
I’ve given considerable thought to the sequel for a novel that, itself, remains unpublished as of this writing. That creates an interesting conundrum: How much effort and thought time do I invest in such an endeavor before the first one finds a publisher that will take it on?
This is where I could allow negativity to cloud my forward thinking on the matter. The questions are like buzzing mosquitoes around my ears. I keep swatting them away, but they keep coming back: What if the first one is never published? Will I have wasted weeks and months? Will a sequel be the equivalent of pouring good time after bad?
No matter how upbeat and positive one may be, I think it’s impossible to prevent such questions from assaulting the creative process, maybe even stopping it altogether.
I once heard a wonderful line by an Italian actor in a ‘70s vintage movie called “The Gumball Rally”. He was sitting in the passenger side of a sports car and offering instructions to the driver on how to win. As he spoke, the driver began adjusting the rearview mirror. The Italian fellow abruptly stopped talking and broke the rearview mirror from its bracket and tossed it out of the car. He then said, “You wanta to winna the race? Then you no worry what is behind you.”
I believe this to be perfectly applicable to writing novels. If the desire to write something is strong enough to consume ample thought time, then all the negative thoughts in the world shouldn’t matter. Just do it!
You want to win? Then don’t look back. Forge ahead. The quality of your work will be evident when you act on the fire within you to write it and not cave to pessimistic perceptions that may or may not be valid.
This is as much to reinforce my own resolve as it is advice.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/August 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
“Trouble”, short story/CrossTIME Science Fiction Anthology, Vol. IX
This is where I could allow negativity to cloud my forward thinking on the matter. The questions are like buzzing mosquitoes around my ears. I keep swatting them away, but they keep coming back: What if the first one is never published? Will I have wasted weeks and months? Will a sequel be the equivalent of pouring good time after bad?
No matter how upbeat and positive one may be, I think it’s impossible to prevent such questions from assaulting the creative process, maybe even stopping it altogether.
I once heard a wonderful line by an Italian actor in a ‘70s vintage movie called “The Gumball Rally”. He was sitting in the passenger side of a sports car and offering instructions to the driver on how to win. As he spoke, the driver began adjusting the rearview mirror. The Italian fellow abruptly stopped talking and broke the rearview mirror from its bracket and tossed it out of the car. He then said, “You wanta to winna the race? Then you no worry what is behind you.”
I believe this to be perfectly applicable to writing novels. If the desire to write something is strong enough to consume ample thought time, then all the negative thoughts in the world shouldn’t matter. Just do it!
You want to win? Then don’t look back. Forge ahead. The quality of your work will be evident when you act on the fire within you to write it and not cave to pessimistic perceptions that may or may not be valid.
This is as much to reinforce my own resolve as it is advice.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/August 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
“Trouble”, short story/CrossTIME Science Fiction Anthology, Vol. IX
Monday, September 13, 2010
Just Bragging
SANTA FE, NM – Danny Wright, from China Springs, Texas, has won an honorable mention from the CrossTIME Short Science Fiction Contest. His story, “Trouble”, will be featured, along with stories from fourteen other authors, in the CrossTIME Science Fiction Anthology, Vol. IX.
Wright is a native Texan freelance writer and novelist. He has published three novels (Six Years’ Worth, Paradise Flawed, and The Last Radiant Heart) and one eBook (Where Are You, Anne Bonny? ), and is in contract negotiations for another title.
“Having spent the first nineteen years of my life on a South Plains cotton farm and the next thirty-two in the television industry,” says Wright, “I’ve seen the world from two distinctly different angles. This divergent perspective on the world helps add depth when bringing together characters from different backgrounds.”
The CrossTIME anthologies feature science fiction, fantasy, and urban fantasy stories of under 7,500 words that demonstrate the best of the human spirit. This year’s submissions were received from around the globe.
Wright is a native Texan freelance writer and novelist. He has published three novels (Six Years’ Worth, Paradise Flawed, and The Last Radiant Heart) and one eBook (Where Are You, Anne Bonny? ), and is in contract negotiations for another title.
“Having spent the first nineteen years of my life on a South Plains cotton farm and the next thirty-two in the television industry,” says Wright, “I’ve seen the world from two distinctly different angles. This divergent perspective on the world helps add depth when bringing together characters from different backgrounds.”
The CrossTIME anthologies feature science fiction, fantasy, and urban fantasy stories of under 7,500 words that demonstrate the best of the human spirit. This year’s submissions were received from around the globe.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Invitation
To anyone within the listening area of 89.5 FM in Weatherford, Texas, tune in tomorrow morning (Sat. 9/11) for the program "Books 'N' Authors, hosted by Linda Blackwell of Weatherford College. I'll be visiting with her about my latest release "The Last Radiant Heart" and whatever other topics she wants to discuss.
It should be interesting and I know it'll be fun for me.
It should be interesting and I know it'll be fun for me.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Confrontations
From the day of first awareness in this life, we all come to know personal idiosyncrasies but never really think about them. The reason is simple: These things are just what make us who we are. No deep contemplation necessary. Unless high on some mind altering drug, we don’t consider our arms, hands, feet and head because they are just part of the total package, like those little things we do, say or think every day, all the time. But, on occasion, something happens that vaults a quirk front and center—not to be appreciated but questioned as an aberration that, maybe, shouldn’t be. That’s what happened to me this morning. I think I’ll call it an epiphany.
As you may have learned about me, I’m an extremely early riser. After about an hour of editing a manuscript, I developed an urge for a Spanish omelette from my favorite breakfast haunt. So, I stopped working and was on my way by 5:30. It was a pleasant drive; not much traffic that early. In fact there were few vehicles at all on the streets, except at the four-way stop I pulled up to. I rolled to a standstill. A second later, two others did, too—one left of me and one across the intersection. Now, I am aware of the first come, first go rule and then take turns clockwise. But, the other two lurched forward and stopped. That’s when I figured the rules were out the window and it became a game of chicken.
I envisioned Clint Eastwood with that squinty stare chewing on that slimy cigar butt and the theme from “A Fistful of Dollars” playing in the background, checking the eyes of all the shifty bad guys wondering who would draw first.
I had no intention of entering that fray-in-the-making in which one motorist had already honked and the other responded with a double beep. At first, I thought it was humorous, although by the rules of the road, I’m the one that should’ve had the right of way. Eventually, the other two felt their way through and raced on down the street; both obviously angry at the other, judging by rates of acceleration.
I’ve always hated four-way stops because, by nature, I’ll go far out of my way to avoid confrontation, if it is my choice to do so. Why am I that way? It would have been my right to take charge and go on through the intersection but I chose not to. It then occurred to me that I do that all the time and it has very little to do with courtesy. It just doesn’t seem worth the effort. Why wouldn’t being right be worth initiating a confrontation? I listen to people rant all the time about politics, religion or other sensitive subjects that I, too, have strong opinions on but I’ll just smile at them while thinking, “Dumb shit,” and never press a point of my own.
It’s important to note, that although I do not instigate confrontations, I’ve never backed away from one that I did not start and will never. So, it’s not a backbone issue either.
This is a quirk I’ve always known about myself but never pondered the potential consequences of such a mindset, until today. And suddenly this peculiarity has become relevant and important. I now look back at several crossroads in my life that, had I aggressively confronted a person or issue, my lot in life may have turned out markedly different, maybe better.
I think this qualifies as an epiphany.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/August 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
As you may have learned about me, I’m an extremely early riser. After about an hour of editing a manuscript, I developed an urge for a Spanish omelette from my favorite breakfast haunt. So, I stopped working and was on my way by 5:30. It was a pleasant drive; not much traffic that early. In fact there were few vehicles at all on the streets, except at the four-way stop I pulled up to. I rolled to a standstill. A second later, two others did, too—one left of me and one across the intersection. Now, I am aware of the first come, first go rule and then take turns clockwise. But, the other two lurched forward and stopped. That’s when I figured the rules were out the window and it became a game of chicken.
I envisioned Clint Eastwood with that squinty stare chewing on that slimy cigar butt and the theme from “A Fistful of Dollars” playing in the background, checking the eyes of all the shifty bad guys wondering who would draw first.
I had no intention of entering that fray-in-the-making in which one motorist had already honked and the other responded with a double beep. At first, I thought it was humorous, although by the rules of the road, I’m the one that should’ve had the right of way. Eventually, the other two felt their way through and raced on down the street; both obviously angry at the other, judging by rates of acceleration.
I’ve always hated four-way stops because, by nature, I’ll go far out of my way to avoid confrontation, if it is my choice to do so. Why am I that way? It would have been my right to take charge and go on through the intersection but I chose not to. It then occurred to me that I do that all the time and it has very little to do with courtesy. It just doesn’t seem worth the effort. Why wouldn’t being right be worth initiating a confrontation? I listen to people rant all the time about politics, religion or other sensitive subjects that I, too, have strong opinions on but I’ll just smile at them while thinking, “Dumb shit,” and never press a point of my own.
It’s important to note, that although I do not instigate confrontations, I’ve never backed away from one that I did not start and will never. So, it’s not a backbone issue either.
This is a quirk I’ve always known about myself but never pondered the potential consequences of such a mindset, until today. And suddenly this peculiarity has become relevant and important. I now look back at several crossroads in my life that, had I aggressively confronted a person or issue, my lot in life may have turned out markedly different, maybe better.
I think this qualifies as an epiphany.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/August 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Deserving Words For Lake Jackson, TX
I have to make it as public as I know how that the staff of the Hastings store in Lake Jackson, Texas are some of the friendliest and most helpful people I’ve ever met.
I was fortunate to have staged a book signing event in that store on Thursday July 15th to promote and sell my latest novel “Paradise Flawed” and also my previously released novel “Six Years’ Worth”. It was a wonderful success and I’m proud to announce to the world that its success was, in no small measure, due to the helpful attitudes of that Hastings staff. That particular store must be a retail leader within the Hastings family of outlets. If I’m told otherwise, I will refuse to believe it.
My next novel, a metaphysical drama titled “The Last Radiant Heart” is set for release in print, ebook and chapter serialization in August through Virtual Tales. I hope you look for it, buy it, read it, enjoy it and then help me spread the word.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/August 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
I was fortunate to have staged a book signing event in that store on Thursday July 15th to promote and sell my latest novel “Paradise Flawed” and also my previously released novel “Six Years’ Worth”. It was a wonderful success and I’m proud to announce to the world that its success was, in no small measure, due to the helpful attitudes of that Hastings staff. That particular store must be a retail leader within the Hastings family of outlets. If I’m told otherwise, I will refuse to believe it.
My next novel, a metaphysical drama titled “The Last Radiant Heart” is set for release in print, ebook and chapter serialization in August through Virtual Tales. I hope you look for it, buy it, read it, enjoy it and then help me spread the word.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/August 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Book Signing
Thursday July 15th, 1p to 5p at Hastings in Lake Jackson, Texas – West Hwy 332.
It seemed appropriate I lead with the important part of this post. I’ll have a booking signing for my latest novel “Paradise Flawed” and will also have copies of “Six Years’ Worth” available for sale, too. Beyond that, I want to invite and urge anyone within driving distance to drop by and say hello. I love meeting people. Would you do that?
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Summer 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
It seemed appropriate I lead with the important part of this post. I’ll have a booking signing for my latest novel “Paradise Flawed” and will also have copies of “Six Years’ Worth” available for sale, too. Beyond that, I want to invite and urge anyone within driving distance to drop by and say hello. I love meeting people. Would you do that?
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Summer 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Job Interview
I certainly can’t set myself apart from the rest of our nation when it comes to economic woes. It seems major changes loom on the horizon for me. I wish I had the power to glimpse what they might be.
I need to back up a bit and explain that, I suppose.
Eight years ago I was a happy well-adjusted (by my definition) advertising sales manager for the local CBS television affiliate. And then the unthinkable happened. Top management changed and I was out. I won’t bore you with details, but it’s so common these days that I probably don’t need to.
Companies of all sizes have no loyalties to employees anymore; people seen only as pawns to be moved, shifted or booted, sometimes after decades of loyal service. That’s breeding employees that are either apathetic or willing to sell-out employers to competitors for the price of a song. But, I’m rabbit-trailing. This should belong in a blog unto itself.
Back on point; after I’d lost that job, I wanted to hone writing skills and write novels. So, I did and I am, but the souring economy has unceremoniously forced a decision. I must go back to work full-time if I want to support this writing habit into old(er) age.
After thirty-two years in the broadcast television business, eighteen of those years in advertising sales, I now have an interview coming up to get back into it as a grunt account executive and, maybe, have the opportunity to re-invent myself yet again.
I smile, in a nervous way of course, when I think about all those fresh-faced college grads I interviewed over the years to do what I’m seeking to do now. I’ll be on their side of that desk trying my best to be chatty, witty and charming while displaying an educated interest in the job I’ll be applying for. Frankly, it’s scaring hell out of me.
I keep asking myself, “Why?” I know the job inside and out, even trained many to do what I’m applying for, yet here I sit writing a blog about my interview reluctance. Some of the fears are genuine, though, like the possibility of being seen as over qualified.
I don’t mean to whine, but I can’t get an odd image out of my head; chasing a rolling quarter into the street just to be hit by a truck.
I curse the state of our economy!
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/August 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
I need to back up a bit and explain that, I suppose.
Eight years ago I was a happy well-adjusted (by my definition) advertising sales manager for the local CBS television affiliate. And then the unthinkable happened. Top management changed and I was out. I won’t bore you with details, but it’s so common these days that I probably don’t need to.
Companies of all sizes have no loyalties to employees anymore; people seen only as pawns to be moved, shifted or booted, sometimes after decades of loyal service. That’s breeding employees that are either apathetic or willing to sell-out employers to competitors for the price of a song. But, I’m rabbit-trailing. This should belong in a blog unto itself.
Back on point; after I’d lost that job, I wanted to hone writing skills and write novels. So, I did and I am, but the souring economy has unceremoniously forced a decision. I must go back to work full-time if I want to support this writing habit into old(er) age.
After thirty-two years in the broadcast television business, eighteen of those years in advertising sales, I now have an interview coming up to get back into it as a grunt account executive and, maybe, have the opportunity to re-invent myself yet again.
I smile, in a nervous way of course, when I think about all those fresh-faced college grads I interviewed over the years to do what I’m seeking to do now. I’ll be on their side of that desk trying my best to be chatty, witty and charming while displaying an educated interest in the job I’ll be applying for. Frankly, it’s scaring hell out of me.
I keep asking myself, “Why?” I know the job inside and out, even trained many to do what I’m applying for, yet here I sit writing a blog about my interview reluctance. Some of the fears are genuine, though, like the possibility of being seen as over qualified.
I don’t mean to whine, but I can’t get an odd image out of my head; chasing a rolling quarter into the street just to be hit by a truck.
I curse the state of our economy!
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/August 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
New Release: "Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"
I hope everyone checks out my latest ebook release: Where Are You, Anne Bonny?
It's available now through http://www.roguephoenixpress.com/ .
If you love the idea of a lady pirate, you'll love this one.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Summer 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
It's available now through http://www.roguephoenixpress.com/ .
If you love the idea of a lady pirate, you'll love this one.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Summer 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
"Trouble"
I was notified recently that a short story I wrote, “Trouble”, placed in a contest and would be included, along with all the winners, in an anthology. It’s published by Crossquarter Publishing Group of Santa Fe, New Mexico. It’s a 2500-word fantasy piece that crosses the line into religious territory.
The book will be available in late July at http://www.crossquarter.com/ and http://www.amazon.com/ .
I’m eager to read the other stories. Below is an excerpt of “Trouble”. Enjoy:
No salt had been sprinkled on the thin layer of ice in the alley like it had been on the sidewalk. Patches of it immediately robbed sure footing. Complicating matters, it was sloped to the center for better drainage; he did not have to step at all to slide to the middle of the narrow alley. Forward progress was now only possible by a flat-footed glide, arms outstretched as if tightrope walking. Chester slowed and picked his path. The iciest places were difficult to spot because the only illumination came from a single street light behind him.
Suddenly, a rat darted across his path.
His feet went airborne.
His head came down against a gas meter pipe elbow.
Pain exploded in his head and the concrete was cold on his prone body, but only for as long as it took to realize it.
He took a deep breath and sat up. He held his head with both hands and then checked them—no blood; furthermore, no pain. Opening his eyes, he danced fingertips over the side of his head in various places and felt nothing out of the ordinary. Not a gash, a lump, a sore spot—nothing.
Hey, how come I can see my hand so well? Why is it not cold anymore? What’s goin’ on?
He looked around for the source of brilliance but it simply could not be pinpointed. Light flooded the alley from all directions, not overhead and not from either side. “What the hell…?”
“Chester Wiggins?”
He continued the fingering probe of his temple. “Yeah, I’m Chester.”
Still dumbfounded, he did not care about the voice. Finally, he looked. When his eyes connected, he scooted on his butt until his back thudded against the brick wall of the building behind him. “Jesus Christ!”
“I wish.”
“Who the hell are you? You don’t look human!”
“I should hope not.”
“Then who… what are you?”
“I live here.”
“The alley?”
“It’s an alley to you. To me it’s a disgusting little crevice within a cranny under a smelly lump of dung... but I call it home.”
The book will be available in late July at http://www.crossquarter.com/ and http://www.amazon.com/ .
I’m eager to read the other stories. Below is an excerpt of “Trouble”. Enjoy:
No salt had been sprinkled on the thin layer of ice in the alley like it had been on the sidewalk. Patches of it immediately robbed sure footing. Complicating matters, it was sloped to the center for better drainage; he did not have to step at all to slide to the middle of the narrow alley. Forward progress was now only possible by a flat-footed glide, arms outstretched as if tightrope walking. Chester slowed and picked his path. The iciest places were difficult to spot because the only illumination came from a single street light behind him.
Suddenly, a rat darted across his path.
His feet went airborne.
His head came down against a gas meter pipe elbow.
Pain exploded in his head and the concrete was cold on his prone body, but only for as long as it took to realize it.
He took a deep breath and sat up. He held his head with both hands and then checked them—no blood; furthermore, no pain. Opening his eyes, he danced fingertips over the side of his head in various places and felt nothing out of the ordinary. Not a gash, a lump, a sore spot—nothing.
Hey, how come I can see my hand so well? Why is it not cold anymore? What’s goin’ on?
He looked around for the source of brilliance but it simply could not be pinpointed. Light flooded the alley from all directions, not overhead and not from either side. “What the hell…?”
“Chester Wiggins?”
He continued the fingering probe of his temple. “Yeah, I’m Chester.”
Still dumbfounded, he did not care about the voice. Finally, he looked. When his eyes connected, he scooted on his butt until his back thudded against the brick wall of the building behind him. “Jesus Christ!”
“I wish.”
“Who the hell are you? You don’t look human!”
“I should hope not.”
“Then who… what are you?”
“I live here.”
“The alley?”
“It’s an alley to you. To me it’s a disgusting little crevice within a cranny under a smelly lump of dung... but I call it home.”
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Editing My Baby
It’s interesting how the mind reacts when self-editing the newborn novel.
We stare lovingly with stars in our eyes and never see the obvious.
Before us is a helpless infant and we, as authors, have the power and the means to either relegate it to bastard stepchild status, even mutilate it, or give it sustenance and the right amount of care to help it reach its full potential as a story that propels readers to another place, another time and into another life twisting emotions to whatever end the author desires. It’s difficult in the beginning to see anything but the most beautiful baby in the world. In reality, it’s an embryo faintly resembling a novel.
As with any parent, it’s a difficult task to nurture without coddling or to discipline without harming.
This morning I sat at the keyboard going over a chapter in a novel now almost six years, by no means an infant, and still unpublished. It was one specific paragraph that spawned this line of thinking. In my opinion it was superbly written—just the right amount of narration to balance crisp dialogue without cumbersome adverbs or overuse of adjectives. It plucked a heart string the way I intended when first written in 2005.
The only problem with it, I came to realize, was that the entire paragraph, every well-placed word, was superfluous to the story. It didn’t need to be there. The story would not miss it at all. It felt as if someone had slapped me and that’s not just hyperbole; I felt a real sting. I loved that paragraph, usually reading it two or three times before moving on.
This is where the infant/parent comparison is most appropriate; when I decided that my only choice was removing it, I might as well have decided to amputate the pinky finger of an only child, a teenage child at that.
I now have a new opinion: When I’m finished with it, this eighty-four-thousand word six-year old novel may be ten to fifteen-thousand words shorter.
If, at some point in the future, the novel is blessed by some publisher, I’ll build a shadow box and next to the published novel will be placed a very well written paragraph. I’ll just let people ask me why.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Summer 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/Summer 2010
We stare lovingly with stars in our eyes and never see the obvious.
Before us is a helpless infant and we, as authors, have the power and the means to either relegate it to bastard stepchild status, even mutilate it, or give it sustenance and the right amount of care to help it reach its full potential as a story that propels readers to another place, another time and into another life twisting emotions to whatever end the author desires. It’s difficult in the beginning to see anything but the most beautiful baby in the world. In reality, it’s an embryo faintly resembling a novel.
As with any parent, it’s a difficult task to nurture without coddling or to discipline without harming.
This morning I sat at the keyboard going over a chapter in a novel now almost six years, by no means an infant, and still unpublished. It was one specific paragraph that spawned this line of thinking. In my opinion it was superbly written—just the right amount of narration to balance crisp dialogue without cumbersome adverbs or overuse of adjectives. It plucked a heart string the way I intended when first written in 2005.
The only problem with it, I came to realize, was that the entire paragraph, every well-placed word, was superfluous to the story. It didn’t need to be there. The story would not miss it at all. It felt as if someone had slapped me and that’s not just hyperbole; I felt a real sting. I loved that paragraph, usually reading it two or three times before moving on.
This is where the infant/parent comparison is most appropriate; when I decided that my only choice was removing it, I might as well have decided to amputate the pinky finger of an only child, a teenage child at that.
I now have a new opinion: When I’m finished with it, this eighty-four-thousand word six-year old novel may be ten to fifteen-thousand words shorter.
If, at some point in the future, the novel is blessed by some publisher, I’ll build a shadow box and next to the published novel will be placed a very well written paragraph. I’ll just let people ask me why.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Summer 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/Summer 2010
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Writer's Block
Where does writer’s block come from?
I suppose the question doesn’t have a pat answer but I think I have a handle on it in my case. It’s a matter of creativity choked off by everyday life—money worries, family problems, backed-up plumbing, and on, and on and on.
Here’s where that handle gets a might difficult to hang on to; I haven’t found the key to make creativity top of the heap. It’s just another thing in the heap.
Wine works well, but it’s certainly not a fix I care to lean on regularly. As time goes on, that cure will surely become the curse. I’ve seen and heard of it happening to many writers, musicians, and actors.
So, let’s start a meaningful discussion: When you hit a wall with your writing, what works for you?
Trust me, any technique offered will be cheerfully received.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Summer 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/Summer 2010
I suppose the question doesn’t have a pat answer but I think I have a handle on it in my case. It’s a matter of creativity choked off by everyday life—money worries, family problems, backed-up plumbing, and on, and on and on.
Here’s where that handle gets a might difficult to hang on to; I haven’t found the key to make creativity top of the heap. It’s just another thing in the heap.
Wine works well, but it’s certainly not a fix I care to lean on regularly. As time goes on, that cure will surely become the curse. I’ve seen and heard of it happening to many writers, musicians, and actors.
So, let’s start a meaningful discussion: When you hit a wall with your writing, what works for you?
Trust me, any technique offered will be cheerfully received.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Summer 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/Summer 2010
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Education and Common Sense
I experienced a true phenomenon yesterday—a university professor educated beyond common sense. Education and good old horse sense, I am now convinced, can be mutually exclusive.
The man is brilliant in his field and we had a fascinating conversation about the human condition. He eloquently quoted Fritz Perls and Freud, among others. I kept my chin in my palm enthralled with his expertise on what makes humans tick.
He is one of those people with degrees, diplomas and certificates of achievement framed and hanging on his office wall in numbers that left little wall space visible. He obviously had spent innumerable hours studying to have such wisdom available without referencing some dusty old text.
As his time for me dwindled, his mind clicked over to chores he had to get done when he got home, like mowing the lawn. That’s the one that got my attention.
He asked, “Since only the ends of a mower blade are sharpened, how does it cut grass in the center?”
I laughed.
He didn’t.
So, I told him that forward momentum takes care of it.
He had to think about it for a full second, maybe two and then the light in his eyes went on.
Later, while thinking about that odd transformation from enlightened guru to dim bulb within seconds, I visualized an eager young college student holding out a bag while professors, teachers, mentors and instructors filled that bag with knowledge within a very narrow range. The student kept his nose in that bag the whole time, years actually, never paying attention to the world around him. Questions came to mind.
If given the choice, would it be preferable to learn everything there is to know about a subject within a narrow range? Or, should we work at becoming better rounded in our education? Or, does it really matter? Simply asked: Is it better to know a lot about very little or to have some knowledge about many different things?
I’m sure the answer lies with where the passion is. As for me, I have a new respect for Texas rednecks.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Summer 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/Spring 2010
The man is brilliant in his field and we had a fascinating conversation about the human condition. He eloquently quoted Fritz Perls and Freud, among others. I kept my chin in my palm enthralled with his expertise on what makes humans tick.
He is one of those people with degrees, diplomas and certificates of achievement framed and hanging on his office wall in numbers that left little wall space visible. He obviously had spent innumerable hours studying to have such wisdom available without referencing some dusty old text.
As his time for me dwindled, his mind clicked over to chores he had to get done when he got home, like mowing the lawn. That’s the one that got my attention.
He asked, “Since only the ends of a mower blade are sharpened, how does it cut grass in the center?”
I laughed.
He didn’t.
So, I told him that forward momentum takes care of it.
He had to think about it for a full second, maybe two and then the light in his eyes went on.
Later, while thinking about that odd transformation from enlightened guru to dim bulb within seconds, I visualized an eager young college student holding out a bag while professors, teachers, mentors and instructors filled that bag with knowledge within a very narrow range. The student kept his nose in that bag the whole time, years actually, never paying attention to the world around him. Questions came to mind.
If given the choice, would it be preferable to learn everything there is to know about a subject within a narrow range? Or, should we work at becoming better rounded in our education? Or, does it really matter? Simply asked: Is it better to know a lot about very little or to have some knowledge about many different things?
I’m sure the answer lies with where the passion is. As for me, I have a new respect for Texas rednecks.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Summer 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/Spring 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Are There Degrees of Profundity?
Where do profound thoughts come from? Do we just wait for them to smack us on the head?
I learned that enlightenment can begin with an event no more complicated than watching seagulls.
Before we get to the gulls, it bears mentioning, there have been two occasions when seemingly benign comments created circumstances sending my life sailing off into new directions, like a pinball hitting that hundred-point bumper, lighting up all the machinery.
Through my teens and twenties, life was a rather steep uphill battle. At the time, concerns were limited to wondering whether my last ten dollars, three days before payday, would buy gasoline for the car, or a few more groceries. Looking back, those were happy times, the good old days. When the thirties rolled around, income increased and money worries leveled out, even disappeared to a great extent. Life was good.
It’s easy to see it all in retrospect. Living on a plateau, whether financial or from any other perspective, is only comfortable as long as no one pushes us from it. Funny thing about plateaus, no down escalator, only lethal drops. If we’re lucky enough to get there, the battle to keep the fruits of our achievements can be a killer.
Working in the television business in a small Texas market in the seventies and early eighties was a joy, until the station sold and management changed. Suddenly, I didn’t fit. Fear of losing what I had invested years to build pressed my Chicken Little button. It seemed calamity lurked just out of sight, but I expected it to come into view at any moment. I put in twice the time and thrice the effort to simply stay employed. No matter. My goals had been raised to unreasonable limits, support systems removed. They wanted me gone.
Friends came for a visit one weekend. I laid the oh-woe-is-me treatment on a buddy. He tired quickly of hearing it. “Nothing lasts forever,” he said flatly, “Stop worrying about it.”
Comments don’t get more basic, benign or non-threatening than that. But, for me, at that time, it was a life-altering revelation. Like a bullet between the eyes, it exploded the sacred myth that that job should be forever. What the hell was I thinking? He was dead-on right. Nothing lasts forever.
Then came profundity number two. Near the end of that situation, I learned to deal with inevitability, even joke about it. I continued finding or creating promotional vehicles suited to my clients. Admittedly, some of that was to impress my superiors to show them what they would be missing when they let the ax fall.
As I agonized over a proposal and worried aloud about it, a coworker said, “It’s just f___ing television, not brain surgery. Stop worrying about it.”
That’s when I discovered lightning could strike twice. That comment, made in passing, and in jest, scars my psyche to this day, but it’s a funny little blemish. It’s one of those guiding forces in my life I refer to, and say often, just substitute the word television with the flavor of the month. I never change the profanity. It fits all situations.
That former coworker holds a special place in my heart for that comment. He’ll likely never know that he provided me a springboard to another life’s change. All he wanted was a laugh.
When the mind is open, wisdom gets in. But, how does one go about opening a mind? It’s certainly not like flipping a light switch.
Sometimes, a simple summer vacation and a day at the beach can do the trick.
It was daybreak, my favorite time of day. I poured a cup of coffee, grabbed a lawn chair and walked to the beach, no other plan in mind than greet the day while listening to the crashing surf, ready to get my vacation underway.
The rhythmic sound of crashing surf and a steady breeze worked its magic. Troubles took flight—ah, sweet, sweet peace of mind. It felt good. I had nothing on my mind except letting the sound of the surf and sights of the ocean sweep over me.
Gulls gathered at the water’s edge looking into the rising sun, unmoving, even against the stiff breeze. They seemed to be refusing to relinquish a front row seat, like they saw something worth staring at.
I was reminded of a movie where angels gathered on a beach, all oriented east, looking into the rising sun, as these gulls did, greeting the new day. Did the director see this same sight, too?
A cloud drifted across the still-rising sun, shooting streamers of God’s light in all directions. That certainly didn’t settle my seeking mind.
It concerned me that I might be taking for granted what those birds saw as reverent. In their way, they must have been giving thanks for surviving long enough to see another sunrise.
The excited squeal of a small child startled me from contemplation. I looked. People were coming out to enjoy this sliver of paradise. As far as I could see in both directions, people walked to the beach, as if the hand of a director cued them to do so.
At that moment, it was as if God’s finger touched that sleeping part of my brain.
This must have been about the temporal nature of life. A hundred years from now no one on that beach would likely be alive—very few on the entire planet, yet the gulls would still greet each new day and the surf would still pound the beach.
I shuddered.
When life’s drudgery drags you down, someone close will certainly crack wise, “In a hundred years from now, who’s going to care?”
It’s true.
Enjoy.
Life’s short.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Summer 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/Spring 2010
I learned that enlightenment can begin with an event no more complicated than watching seagulls.
Before we get to the gulls, it bears mentioning, there have been two occasions when seemingly benign comments created circumstances sending my life sailing off into new directions, like a pinball hitting that hundred-point bumper, lighting up all the machinery.
Through my teens and twenties, life was a rather steep uphill battle. At the time, concerns were limited to wondering whether my last ten dollars, three days before payday, would buy gasoline for the car, or a few more groceries. Looking back, those were happy times, the good old days. When the thirties rolled around, income increased and money worries leveled out, even disappeared to a great extent. Life was good.
It’s easy to see it all in retrospect. Living on a plateau, whether financial or from any other perspective, is only comfortable as long as no one pushes us from it. Funny thing about plateaus, no down escalator, only lethal drops. If we’re lucky enough to get there, the battle to keep the fruits of our achievements can be a killer.
Working in the television business in a small Texas market in the seventies and early eighties was a joy, until the station sold and management changed. Suddenly, I didn’t fit. Fear of losing what I had invested years to build pressed my Chicken Little button. It seemed calamity lurked just out of sight, but I expected it to come into view at any moment. I put in twice the time and thrice the effort to simply stay employed. No matter. My goals had been raised to unreasonable limits, support systems removed. They wanted me gone.
Friends came for a visit one weekend. I laid the oh-woe-is-me treatment on a buddy. He tired quickly of hearing it. “Nothing lasts forever,” he said flatly, “Stop worrying about it.”
Comments don’t get more basic, benign or non-threatening than that. But, for me, at that time, it was a life-altering revelation. Like a bullet between the eyes, it exploded the sacred myth that that job should be forever. What the hell was I thinking? He was dead-on right. Nothing lasts forever.
Then came profundity number two. Near the end of that situation, I learned to deal with inevitability, even joke about it. I continued finding or creating promotional vehicles suited to my clients. Admittedly, some of that was to impress my superiors to show them what they would be missing when they let the ax fall.
As I agonized over a proposal and worried aloud about it, a coworker said, “It’s just f___ing television, not brain surgery. Stop worrying about it.”
That’s when I discovered lightning could strike twice. That comment, made in passing, and in jest, scars my psyche to this day, but it’s a funny little blemish. It’s one of those guiding forces in my life I refer to, and say often, just substitute the word television with the flavor of the month. I never change the profanity. It fits all situations.
That former coworker holds a special place in my heart for that comment. He’ll likely never know that he provided me a springboard to another life’s change. All he wanted was a laugh.
When the mind is open, wisdom gets in. But, how does one go about opening a mind? It’s certainly not like flipping a light switch.
Sometimes, a simple summer vacation and a day at the beach can do the trick.
It was daybreak, my favorite time of day. I poured a cup of coffee, grabbed a lawn chair and walked to the beach, no other plan in mind than greet the day while listening to the crashing surf, ready to get my vacation underway.
The rhythmic sound of crashing surf and a steady breeze worked its magic. Troubles took flight—ah, sweet, sweet peace of mind. It felt good. I had nothing on my mind except letting the sound of the surf and sights of the ocean sweep over me.
Gulls gathered at the water’s edge looking into the rising sun, unmoving, even against the stiff breeze. They seemed to be refusing to relinquish a front row seat, like they saw something worth staring at.
I was reminded of a movie where angels gathered on a beach, all oriented east, looking into the rising sun, as these gulls did, greeting the new day. Did the director see this same sight, too?
A cloud drifted across the still-rising sun, shooting streamers of God’s light in all directions. That certainly didn’t settle my seeking mind.
It concerned me that I might be taking for granted what those birds saw as reverent. In their way, they must have been giving thanks for surviving long enough to see another sunrise.
The excited squeal of a small child startled me from contemplation. I looked. People were coming out to enjoy this sliver of paradise. As far as I could see in both directions, people walked to the beach, as if the hand of a director cued them to do so.
At that moment, it was as if God’s finger touched that sleeping part of my brain.
This must have been about the temporal nature of life. A hundred years from now no one on that beach would likely be alive—very few on the entire planet, yet the gulls would still greet each new day and the surf would still pound the beach.
I shuddered.
When life’s drudgery drags you down, someone close will certainly crack wise, “In a hundred years from now, who’s going to care?”
It’s true.
Enjoy.
Life’s short.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Summer 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/Spring 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Chicken or the Egg
As a fiction writer, a concept or premise will come to me by way of something I’ve seen or read and then go about the business of concocting characters to bring the story to life. But, just yesterday, it occurred to me that I have several interesting characters rambling around in my head that have no story home. They’re just interesting people I’ve known, or know of, that would make excellent characters if only I had a story for them.
That got me wondering about other fiction writers. And, it amounts to the classic conundrum: Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Do other fiction writers build stories around strong characters or create characters to be plugged into a story after conceptualizing a plot line? Or, is there a mix?
As mentioned, I have characters in mind but I’ve never built a story around a single character.
I need to pause and say, though, I’ve yet to write a sequel. That, to me, is a different situation. The story must be built around the character(s). I’m confining this to the genesis of a brand new project.
Somehow, I have the feeling that this might be a polarizing subject if opened up for debate. Who cares? I think I’ll ask anyhow.
Which came first, the character or the story?
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Summer 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/Spring 2010
That got me wondering about other fiction writers. And, it amounts to the classic conundrum: Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Do other fiction writers build stories around strong characters or create characters to be plugged into a story after conceptualizing a plot line? Or, is there a mix?
As mentioned, I have characters in mind but I’ve never built a story around a single character.
I need to pause and say, though, I’ve yet to write a sequel. That, to me, is a different situation. The story must be built around the character(s). I’m confining this to the genesis of a brand new project.
Somehow, I have the feeling that this might be a polarizing subject if opened up for debate. Who cares? I think I’ll ask anyhow.
Which came first, the character or the story?
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Summer 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/Spring 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Circling Buzzards
A Sunday morning tradition I’ve always enjoyed has been to cook brunch, sit with my wife in the dining room facing a window, curtains pulled back and look out at the world as we enjoy the meal. That Sunday was no different, except, maybe, for my state of mind.
Dad is eighty-six. He has only days left in this life. I’ve spent time at his side listening to stories that get increasingly personal as time slips away. I’ve learned more about the man in a week than at any other time in my sixty years. Therefore, it was on my mind. Somehow, I would incorporate those stories into a work of fiction. I figured a cathartic benefit might be in it for me, if for no other reason. That’s when I began to wonder what it is that obligates a person to spill every secret of life when it begins leaching away.
As I ate, two buzzards flew high over our neighborhood and had begun that familiar slow circling flapless descent. It could only mean some creature had lost its life. But, then I thought: Could it be the creature isn’t dead yet? Is it possible that it’s lying on the ground watching death come for it? If so, is it reconciling life, too? These questions born of that view led to a philosophical meandering that held my mind hostage for over half an hour.
That said, it’s only natural I think on the secrets of my own life that I hold. At the moment, none seem important. At best, they’re amusing. At worst, they’d anger or confuse people. So, I leave them tucked away to enjoy, or regret, within my own secret world. Eventually, like the rest of the human race, I’ll be compelled to share them before I die and leave it to the next generation to determine value.
For now, it continues baffling. Everyone that endures a lingering death does it. Why?
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Summer 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
Dad is eighty-six. He has only days left in this life. I’ve spent time at his side listening to stories that get increasingly personal as time slips away. I’ve learned more about the man in a week than at any other time in my sixty years. Therefore, it was on my mind. Somehow, I would incorporate those stories into a work of fiction. I figured a cathartic benefit might be in it for me, if for no other reason. That’s when I began to wonder what it is that obligates a person to spill every secret of life when it begins leaching away.
As I ate, two buzzards flew high over our neighborhood and had begun that familiar slow circling flapless descent. It could only mean some creature had lost its life. But, then I thought: Could it be the creature isn’t dead yet? Is it possible that it’s lying on the ground watching death come for it? If so, is it reconciling life, too? These questions born of that view led to a philosophical meandering that held my mind hostage for over half an hour.
That said, it’s only natural I think on the secrets of my own life that I hold. At the moment, none seem important. At best, they’re amusing. At worst, they’d anger or confuse people. So, I leave them tucked away to enjoy, or regret, within my own secret world. Eventually, like the rest of the human race, I’ll be compelled to share them before I die and leave it to the next generation to determine value.
For now, it continues baffling. Everyone that endures a lingering death does it. Why?
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Summer 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
Monday, March 8, 2010
Italy 1944
Italy 1944
My father is eighty-six and a World War II veteran. He’s on oxygen round the clock due to COPD. His mind is sharp and relishes staying abreast of current events. But, it’s not his command of contemporary facts that’s astounding, although his knowledge of what’s happening in Washington rivals any of the pundits or politicians on the Sunday morning network news magazines.
When I visit, it doesn’t matter what our conversations consist of, it will sooner or later metamorphose into a war story, usually Italy in 1944. He served some time in North Africa but that hardly ever comes up. Even sixty-six years later it’s amazing the detail he uses to tell his stories. Names, places, ages—all the information necessary to tell a story chocked with descriptive nuance.
This past week he retold a story I’ve heard numerous times about a night in a bar with a soldier he knew. It was in a small town just outside Rome. But on this telling, I learned something new.
As usual, he explained the soldier in great detail using his full name, where his hometown was, how long he’d been in Italy, and many other highly descriptive details of the night and the bar plus its patrons as if he watched a movie in his mind’s eye. I was feigning interest since I’d heard it so many times and casually made the comment, “He must have been a really good buddy.”
He said, “Oh no, I met him at the bar and never saw him again after that night.”
Dad tossed out that comment thinking nothing of it and continued on with the story; whereas my focus on what he was saying stopped cold right there. How could he remember all that about a guy he knew for a few hours and a bar he was in once only?
It has to be the nature of war. All the senses are set on edge and pushed to extremes. This can be a good thing in dangerous situations. One can react instantaneously and get the job done clear of mind. But, after it’s over it can cause post traumatic stress disorder at one extreme while people, like my Dad, who managed to preserve relative mental stability, had an indelible mark made another way—acute sensory awareness that keeps people and events fresh for a lifetime.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve heard them all many, many times and will likely hear them all again. I’ll keep listening because it’s not about the story, it’s about the storyteller.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
My father is eighty-six and a World War II veteran. He’s on oxygen round the clock due to COPD. His mind is sharp and relishes staying abreast of current events. But, it’s not his command of contemporary facts that’s astounding, although his knowledge of what’s happening in Washington rivals any of the pundits or politicians on the Sunday morning network news magazines.
When I visit, it doesn’t matter what our conversations consist of, it will sooner or later metamorphose into a war story, usually Italy in 1944. He served some time in North Africa but that hardly ever comes up. Even sixty-six years later it’s amazing the detail he uses to tell his stories. Names, places, ages—all the information necessary to tell a story chocked with descriptive nuance.
This past week he retold a story I’ve heard numerous times about a night in a bar with a soldier he knew. It was in a small town just outside Rome. But on this telling, I learned something new.
As usual, he explained the soldier in great detail using his full name, where his hometown was, how long he’d been in Italy, and many other highly descriptive details of the night and the bar plus its patrons as if he watched a movie in his mind’s eye. I was feigning interest since I’d heard it so many times and casually made the comment, “He must have been a really good buddy.”
He said, “Oh no, I met him at the bar and never saw him again after that night.”
Dad tossed out that comment thinking nothing of it and continued on with the story; whereas my focus on what he was saying stopped cold right there. How could he remember all that about a guy he knew for a few hours and a bar he was in once only?
It has to be the nature of war. All the senses are set on edge and pushed to extremes. This can be a good thing in dangerous situations. One can react instantaneously and get the job done clear of mind. But, after it’s over it can cause post traumatic stress disorder at one extreme while people, like my Dad, who managed to preserve relative mental stability, had an indelible mark made another way—acute sensory awareness that keeps people and events fresh for a lifetime.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve heard them all many, many times and will likely hear them all again. I’ll keep listening because it’s not about the story, it’s about the storyteller.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
A Winner's Instinct
Earlier this week, a relatively warm afternoon somehow wedged itself between cold fronts. I enjoyed the simple pleasure of walking the hundred yards to my mailbox. Afterward, while making a beeline for the garbage can with a handful of credit card offers and other ways to spend money, I saw a roadrunner, but that’s not out of the ordinary since a pair of them live nearby and are neighbors year-round.
What brought me to a standstill was that the bird had a live long snake in its beak. It was obvious that the skinny serpent had no desire to be its lunch. And, it was clear that the roadrunner did not care for its proximity to me. It ran, or so it tried. It was, at first, very comical.
The snake encircled the bird’s legs and tripped it. The roadrunner had gained enough momentum that it slid on its beak before recouping balance and taking off again. This repeated several times in quick succession. That poor roadrunner floundered but refused to release its prey even as it approached a barbed wire fence with a dense stand of dried weeds along it. It appeared impassable.
Well, dear chaparral, it would seem you’ve met your match and might consider shorter snakes in the future, I thought.
The bird suddenly found footing, stood and took wing—snake still clutched and dangling like the tail of a kite. It was a genuine spectacle of nature.
As it disappeared behind a cedar tree to enjoy its meal, my smile faded away as I thought on what I had just witnessed. That bird refused to give. The snake refused to give up. But, in the end, there could be only one winner.
That’s life. That’s what we, as humans, do everyday—try to progress positives in measurable ways, defeating whatever downsides stand in our way.
So, tomorrow when you’re eating breakfast thinking about your day, ask yourself: Today, will I be the roadrunner or will I be the snake?
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
What brought me to a standstill was that the bird had a live long snake in its beak. It was obvious that the skinny serpent had no desire to be its lunch. And, it was clear that the roadrunner did not care for its proximity to me. It ran, or so it tried. It was, at first, very comical.
The snake encircled the bird’s legs and tripped it. The roadrunner had gained enough momentum that it slid on its beak before recouping balance and taking off again. This repeated several times in quick succession. That poor roadrunner floundered but refused to release its prey even as it approached a barbed wire fence with a dense stand of dried weeds along it. It appeared impassable.
Well, dear chaparral, it would seem you’ve met your match and might consider shorter snakes in the future, I thought.
The bird suddenly found footing, stood and took wing—snake still clutched and dangling like the tail of a kite. It was a genuine spectacle of nature.
As it disappeared behind a cedar tree to enjoy its meal, my smile faded away as I thought on what I had just witnessed. That bird refused to give. The snake refused to give up. But, in the end, there could be only one winner.
That’s life. That’s what we, as humans, do everyday—try to progress positives in measurable ways, defeating whatever downsides stand in our way.
So, tomorrow when you’re eating breakfast thinking about your day, ask yourself: Today, will I be the roadrunner or will I be the snake?
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
Brain Power
Below is the foreword to my new novel, The Last Radiant Heart, set to release in late spring or early summer of 2010. I thought it would be fun to post it and invite comments. Even if you choose not to leave your thoughts on it, I hope you enjoy the read. –Daniel Lance Wright
Whether beliefs are rooted in creationism, evolution, or any other discipline, there is a point everyone will likely agree on: The human mind functions at a mere fraction of potential.
Debate on the subject creates more questions than answers. Although theories are bandied about, nothing has ever been proven. It remains a debatable and interesting topic of conversation.
If two people can agree that the human mind is only using a miniscule portion of that potential then the question becomes: Is there a story out there—a person—that could provide evidence of a brain fully developed? If so, what would it mean? What would that person be capable of?
Theoretically, such a person would set the scientific and theological communities on their ears. Such a discovery might require an overhaul of thinking that has been around for thousands of years. Since beliefs tend to harden with time, changing that thinking might require a large hammer of truth.
Let’s explore a possibility: What if a person existed that had full use of every square centimeter of brain matter, not just part of it? Furthermore, what if full use of that gray matter did not constitute an increased ability to think reason or control body parts—or any other function considered primary?
The result could be a projection of power that changes this person’s personal universe. In other words, allowing him to physically move from one time to the next, one place to the next, or even one dimension to the next.
Could there be truth in such a story? The popular answer would have to be no. But let’s assume the unpopular answer is correct.
Thanks to near-infinite genetic variations, we are amazing creatures, and amazingly different. Some are capable of tremendous feats of ingenuity while others are tragically challenged to perform the simplest tasks.
What if a scale should exist to measure absolute mind capacity? The difference between the near-vegetative human being and the person with the highest intelligence quotient on the planet is indistinguishable on this scale, both near the bottom. The ability to think and reason is common to both. Their assigned position on the scale already indicates how little difference there is between them. Furthermore, we are assuming a scale to measure absolute mind capacity.
What if thinking and reasoning were only a tiny part of the brain’s planned purpose? What if incremental increases in mental capacity create abilities that compounded with each click of the pointer on our assumed scale?
These extraordinary gifts wouldn’t be considered normal or even believable by today’s standards. Such gifts would be labeled queer aberrations of the human condition. Religions of the world would take it to extremes. Some would assign Christ-like status. Others would call it Satan’s work. But everyone would disbelieve until they witnessed it for themselves. It would test all belief boundaries. Therefore, it makes sense that someone possessing such abilities might desire to keep them secret.
Let’s consider these for example: telepathy, telekinesis, astral projection, time travel, inter-dimensional travels and a myriad of others, real or imagined. Small, yet passionate, groups around the world believe in such areas of study. A few openly profess to practice these fringe concepts.
Somewhere, in a lonely position high up on this mind-measuring scale is a nonbeliever. He’s a man of average intelligence—a man that confines such topics to party conversations. But, what he has believed all his life is destined to become irrelevant.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
Whether beliefs are rooted in creationism, evolution, or any other discipline, there is a point everyone will likely agree on: The human mind functions at a mere fraction of potential.
Debate on the subject creates more questions than answers. Although theories are bandied about, nothing has ever been proven. It remains a debatable and interesting topic of conversation.
If two people can agree that the human mind is only using a miniscule portion of that potential then the question becomes: Is there a story out there—a person—that could provide evidence of a brain fully developed? If so, what would it mean? What would that person be capable of?
Theoretically, such a person would set the scientific and theological communities on their ears. Such a discovery might require an overhaul of thinking that has been around for thousands of years. Since beliefs tend to harden with time, changing that thinking might require a large hammer of truth.
Let’s explore a possibility: What if a person existed that had full use of every square centimeter of brain matter, not just part of it? Furthermore, what if full use of that gray matter did not constitute an increased ability to think reason or control body parts—or any other function considered primary?
The result could be a projection of power that changes this person’s personal universe. In other words, allowing him to physically move from one time to the next, one place to the next, or even one dimension to the next.
Could there be truth in such a story? The popular answer would have to be no. But let’s assume the unpopular answer is correct.
Thanks to near-infinite genetic variations, we are amazing creatures, and amazingly different. Some are capable of tremendous feats of ingenuity while others are tragically challenged to perform the simplest tasks.
What if a scale should exist to measure absolute mind capacity? The difference between the near-vegetative human being and the person with the highest intelligence quotient on the planet is indistinguishable on this scale, both near the bottom. The ability to think and reason is common to both. Their assigned position on the scale already indicates how little difference there is between them. Furthermore, we are assuming a scale to measure absolute mind capacity.
What if thinking and reasoning were only a tiny part of the brain’s planned purpose? What if incremental increases in mental capacity create abilities that compounded with each click of the pointer on our assumed scale?
These extraordinary gifts wouldn’t be considered normal or even believable by today’s standards. Such gifts would be labeled queer aberrations of the human condition. Religions of the world would take it to extremes. Some would assign Christ-like status. Others would call it Satan’s work. But everyone would disbelieve until they witnessed it for themselves. It would test all belief boundaries. Therefore, it makes sense that someone possessing such abilities might desire to keep them secret.
Let’s consider these for example: telepathy, telekinesis, astral projection, time travel, inter-dimensional travels and a myriad of others, real or imagined. Small, yet passionate, groups around the world believe in such areas of study. A few openly profess to practice these fringe concepts.
Somewhere, in a lonely position high up on this mind-measuring scale is a nonbeliever. He’s a man of average intelligence—a man that confines such topics to party conversations. But, what he has believed all his life is destined to become irrelevant.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Mumbles and Grunts
Although not something dwelt on often, it was thrust into my consciousness recently and there it remains. I’m referring to how I speak versus how I write.
Recently, I had a conversation with a friend who is also an English teacher; twice she corrected me on poor word choice. At the time I just laughed it off and continued whatever it was that I was telling her. It was later that I began to worry about it. A self-analysis began that I’m now continually addressing, even in this writing.
Maybe I should go back to the beginning. I grew up in a rural environment on the Texas South Plains where verbal communication consisted of profanity-laced and testosterone-loaded mumbles and grunts. Hanging out in the office of a cotton gin listening to farmers talk over a game of dominoes is not the best place to learn syntax and good grammar. Unfortunately, I spent many more hours as a child in that and similar environments than in classrooms. Even during the years immersed in the education system learning better, I didn’t practice verbally what I’d been taught.
Eventually, I broke into the television industry and became a news writer/reporter and so began my first foray into using our language correctly. At the time, I didn’t notice—in fact, totally blind to my habit of reverting to grammatically challenged mumbles and grunts once the red light on the camera went off.
It’s not that I’m into secular flagellation, but the cold truth is when I’m drafting a novel and my imagination is running full-bore through my fingertips the result is the print version of those mumbles and grunts. I had a high school English teacher, now long deceased, that I’m sure cringes with every other keystroke as she looks over my shoulder from her heavenly vantage point. I wager that I spend much more time editing than even the most inexperienced writers whose childhoods were spent around people speaking the language as it was intended.
Now I’m too conscious of it, correcting myself so often that the train of thought jumps track and I end up staring, unable to remember what I was saying. Grammatically challenged mumbles and grunts has evolved into conversationally challenged red faces and question marks.
We have to go with our strengths though; right? Thank God for perseverance. That’s where I shine.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
Recently, I had a conversation with a friend who is also an English teacher; twice she corrected me on poor word choice. At the time I just laughed it off and continued whatever it was that I was telling her. It was later that I began to worry about it. A self-analysis began that I’m now continually addressing, even in this writing.
Maybe I should go back to the beginning. I grew up in a rural environment on the Texas South Plains where verbal communication consisted of profanity-laced and testosterone-loaded mumbles and grunts. Hanging out in the office of a cotton gin listening to farmers talk over a game of dominoes is not the best place to learn syntax and good grammar. Unfortunately, I spent many more hours as a child in that and similar environments than in classrooms. Even during the years immersed in the education system learning better, I didn’t practice verbally what I’d been taught.
Eventually, I broke into the television industry and became a news writer/reporter and so began my first foray into using our language correctly. At the time, I didn’t notice—in fact, totally blind to my habit of reverting to grammatically challenged mumbles and grunts once the red light on the camera went off.
It’s not that I’m into secular flagellation, but the cold truth is when I’m drafting a novel and my imagination is running full-bore through my fingertips the result is the print version of those mumbles and grunts. I had a high school English teacher, now long deceased, that I’m sure cringes with every other keystroke as she looks over my shoulder from her heavenly vantage point. I wager that I spend much more time editing than even the most inexperienced writers whose childhoods were spent around people speaking the language as it was intended.
Now I’m too conscious of it, correcting myself so often that the train of thought jumps track and I end up staring, unable to remember what I was saying. Grammatically challenged mumbles and grunts has evolved into conversationally challenged red faces and question marks.
We have to go with our strengths though; right? Thank God for perseverance. That’s where I shine.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Paying Attention
Writing novels has been a passion for a couple of decades transforming into a full-time endeavor eight years ago. Looking beyond the story to see the skeletal structure beneath predates both milestones by many years. Early on, I wondered: What is about a novel that will reside clearly and comfortably in the memory for years while others are forgotten shortly after the final word is read?
Once the question was asked those many years ago, so began my pursuit of story perfection. Will it ever be achieved? Of course not, but to seek it in all things, including fiction writing is a duty I will not deny. To improve from one story to the next in small but measurable ways is my goal. At some point, the novel not easily forgotten should evolve—that is the hope.
There are no new ideas; so goes the cliché, but it’s true, even biblical (Ecclesiastes 1:9): “What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.” This doesn’t preclude alternate uses and better ways of presenting old ideas.
Clearly, this does not promote plagiarism; instead, it should encourage us to pay attention to the world around us. Within other works lie gems to be transformed and refitted to a different use. It could be anything; a better plot direction, ways of improving dialogue flow or even an amusing or dramatic phrase or word providing the perfect device to turn a story or conclude a scene.
Do not simply scan newspaper articles, study them and every novel, movie and conversation; there are gems of wisdom waiting for you to glean. Inspiration comes to advance the search for perfection one baby step at a time. The only secret in the process is to keep taking those steps. That unforgettable novel will come together.
If it’s a brand new idea you are waiting on before you get down to business then... well, good luck with that.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
Once the question was asked those many years ago, so began my pursuit of story perfection. Will it ever be achieved? Of course not, but to seek it in all things, including fiction writing is a duty I will not deny. To improve from one story to the next in small but measurable ways is my goal. At some point, the novel not easily forgotten should evolve—that is the hope.
There are no new ideas; so goes the cliché, but it’s true, even biblical (Ecclesiastes 1:9): “What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.” This doesn’t preclude alternate uses and better ways of presenting old ideas.
Clearly, this does not promote plagiarism; instead, it should encourage us to pay attention to the world around us. Within other works lie gems to be transformed and refitted to a different use. It could be anything; a better plot direction, ways of improving dialogue flow or even an amusing or dramatic phrase or word providing the perfect device to turn a story or conclude a scene.
Do not simply scan newspaper articles, study them and every novel, movie and conversation; there are gems of wisdom waiting for you to glean. Inspiration comes to advance the search for perfection one baby step at a time. The only secret in the process is to keep taking those steps. That unforgettable novel will come together.
If it’s a brand new idea you are waiting on before you get down to business then... well, good luck with that.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Make A Difference
I’ve seen it all over the internet for some time but it continually resonates in me: “Life is like a roll of toilet paper, the less there is and the older we get the faster it spins.” It’s simply a clever little truism, nothing profound about it.
Setting long-term goals is always changing because, with the passage of time, they’re getting closer together and my definition of long-term is under constant assault. The clock echoes louder and chances to make a mark on this world dwindle.
Is this a selfish desire? Somewhat, I suppose. Am I alone in this wish? Not at all, I’m sure. I submit that every person that has ever lived, at some point in their lives, wondered, worried and possibly agonized over the legacy they would leave behind. I am no different.
Politicians run for office to make a difference but, in the end, all they want is to be re-elected. Obviously, a politician is not what I aspire to be because they, long ago, ceased to be statesmen; all they want is to placate the right people to remain in their comfortable situations with a sense of power over people. I criticize but I fear I might be the same.
Each one of us, worldwide, must choose our battle and make a positive difference. It is up to us, as individuals. And, that is possibly the answer; do something good for someone or some group but do it quietly, just because it is the right thing to do and then urge those recipients to pay if forward.
I’m left with a desire, in my rather humble capacity on this planet, to make a positive, uplifting and forward thinking difference for the better. Should I fail at that, there’s always running for public office.
But, for now, I’m thinking Haiti.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
Setting long-term goals is always changing because, with the passage of time, they’re getting closer together and my definition of long-term is under constant assault. The clock echoes louder and chances to make a mark on this world dwindle.
Is this a selfish desire? Somewhat, I suppose. Am I alone in this wish? Not at all, I’m sure. I submit that every person that has ever lived, at some point in their lives, wondered, worried and possibly agonized over the legacy they would leave behind. I am no different.
Politicians run for office to make a difference but, in the end, all they want is to be re-elected. Obviously, a politician is not what I aspire to be because they, long ago, ceased to be statesmen; all they want is to placate the right people to remain in their comfortable situations with a sense of power over people. I criticize but I fear I might be the same.
Each one of us, worldwide, must choose our battle and make a positive difference. It is up to us, as individuals. And, that is possibly the answer; do something good for someone or some group but do it quietly, just because it is the right thing to do and then urge those recipients to pay if forward.
I’m left with a desire, in my rather humble capacity on this planet, to make a positive, uplifting and forward thinking difference for the better. Should I fail at that, there’s always running for public office.
But, for now, I’m thinking Haiti.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
The Rabbit Died
The rabbit died!
No, no one is pregnant. The rabbit, our pet rabbit, literally died. Now for the most difficult thing to admit; it was my fault.
My wife went out of town for a few days and said, “Look after Stinky (the rabbit), would you?”
Of course I said that I would, no problem, consider it done, go have a good time.
I didn’t feed or water Stinky for three days. I refuse to offer more details than that, other than to say that his name fit the end result. I feel awful!
Newton’s third law of motion says, “To every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.”
I learned that in elementary school but had never considered it; I mean really thought about it, until Stinky took the well-lighted tunnel to paradise. Have you ever considered it... the tiny little decisions made every day that fan into the future causing potentially catastrophic changes?
Let me set a scenario for you: I call in to work that I’m sick, just because I’m too freaking lazy to get out of bed. My project partner loses his job because I wasn’t there to help him make a deadline; his wife divorces him because he’s unemployed; he commits suicide because he loved her so much.
Don’t try to convince me that this is illogical or over-simplified because I’m now a devout believer that this happens every day in this crazy world. Granted, there may be a few more episodes between these high points and it might take years but the fact is; it happens. We just never look back to notice.
So, when your spouse asks you to feed the pet, for God’s sake, do it.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
No, no one is pregnant. The rabbit, our pet rabbit, literally died. Now for the most difficult thing to admit; it was my fault.
My wife went out of town for a few days and said, “Look after Stinky (the rabbit), would you?”
Of course I said that I would, no problem, consider it done, go have a good time.
I didn’t feed or water Stinky for three days. I refuse to offer more details than that, other than to say that his name fit the end result. I feel awful!
Newton’s third law of motion says, “To every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.”
I learned that in elementary school but had never considered it; I mean really thought about it, until Stinky took the well-lighted tunnel to paradise. Have you ever considered it... the tiny little decisions made every day that fan into the future causing potentially catastrophic changes?
Let me set a scenario for you: I call in to work that I’m sick, just because I’m too freaking lazy to get out of bed. My project partner loses his job because I wasn’t there to help him make a deadline; his wife divorces him because he’s unemployed; he commits suicide because he loved her so much.
Don’t try to convince me that this is illogical or over-simplified because I’m now a devout believer that this happens every day in this crazy world. Granted, there may be a few more episodes between these high points and it might take years but the fact is; it happens. We just never look back to notice.
So, when your spouse asks you to feed the pet, for God’s sake, do it.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
My Muse
Where is the well from which your inspiration springs? What is your muse? Who is your muse?
Anyone interested in creating something with little more than desire and raw material floating disconnected in the mind knows well the importance of these questions. They must be answered and dealt with before a single word is written, a lone note played, the first colorful stroke of paint applied to canvas or the first chip hammered from formless marble.
I’ve asked these questions of many and have received answers that always seem to point at a single person, endeavor or situation. As examples: spouses, friends, long walks, sunsets, sunrises, fall days, spring days, holidays, stargazing, and on and on, adinfinitum. And, I always felt left out because I knew of no single person or experience that provided me with inspiration... until a few minutes ago.
It’s cold outside, so the fire in the fireplace is crackling and cozy. Cup of coffee in hand, I sat gazing into lazy flames with no particular thoughts other than appreciation for warmth on such a frigid morning. It was yesterday that I struggled with a story arc for a novel I’m working on and, after a dizzying session of mental badminton, I gave up and made stew. Not only did the conundrum return this morning, it began playing out in meticulous detail in the flames of the fire. Within the span of mere minutes, I not only had a plan for the direction of my story, I also had the answer to that elusive question: Who/what is my muse?
If you’re thinking the fireplace then you already know part of the answer, but I now know the answer is infinitely larger. My muse is not a single person or thing but, rather, it is everything and anything; it is everyone and anyone. It is whatever I’m looking at or experiencing, whomever I’m talking with and all those examples above and more—a receptive mind—eyes open and observant—ears recording the nuances of daily life.
Anyone believing that the ability to create lay without then the smolder within will suffocate.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
Anyone interested in creating something with little more than desire and raw material floating disconnected in the mind knows well the importance of these questions. They must be answered and dealt with before a single word is written, a lone note played, the first colorful stroke of paint applied to canvas or the first chip hammered from formless marble.
I’ve asked these questions of many and have received answers that always seem to point at a single person, endeavor or situation. As examples: spouses, friends, long walks, sunsets, sunrises, fall days, spring days, holidays, stargazing, and on and on, adinfinitum. And, I always felt left out because I knew of no single person or experience that provided me with inspiration... until a few minutes ago.
It’s cold outside, so the fire in the fireplace is crackling and cozy. Cup of coffee in hand, I sat gazing into lazy flames with no particular thoughts other than appreciation for warmth on such a frigid morning. It was yesterday that I struggled with a story arc for a novel I’m working on and, after a dizzying session of mental badminton, I gave up and made stew. Not only did the conundrum return this morning, it began playing out in meticulous detail in the flames of the fire. Within the span of mere minutes, I not only had a plan for the direction of my story, I also had the answer to that elusive question: Who/what is my muse?
If you’re thinking the fireplace then you already know part of the answer, but I now know the answer is infinitely larger. My muse is not a single person or thing but, rather, it is everything and anything; it is everyone and anyone. It is whatever I’m looking at or experiencing, whomever I’m talking with and all those examples above and more—a receptive mind—eyes open and observant—ears recording the nuances of daily life.
Anyone believing that the ability to create lay without then the smolder within will suffocate.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Maybe Tomorrow
As the years reel by, I find that procrastination has become part of me. As a writer, I suppose it might be compared to writer’s block. But, that’s not my problem; it has nothing to do with my time devoted to the stories I write. It’s everything else; nuisance jobs and projects that seem to keep me on a treadmill.
It’s worth a mention that I’ve always had an aversion to tasks falling in the “maintenance” category.
Working until my fingers bleed and my eyes bug on things with a shelf life of decades has always been more my style—things that would fall in the creative category—writing stories, building things, woodturning, etc.
But, if it’s duties like mowing grass that will need cutting again in a week, or painting a house that will need another coat in a couple of years, or vacuuming a floor that will be dirty again by day’s end; these are the type things that seem like a waste of precious effort. This is where the adage “Life is too short” fits so well.
When life winds down and it’s my turn to see it flash before me; do I really care to see blinking images of neat lawns, clean carpets or a neatly painted house? I think not.
Now, I must go take a shower. There are a few maintenance routines I haven’t abandoned which, if I ever meet you, you’ll appreciate.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
It’s worth a mention that I’ve always had an aversion to tasks falling in the “maintenance” category.
Working until my fingers bleed and my eyes bug on things with a shelf life of decades has always been more my style—things that would fall in the creative category—writing stories, building things, woodturning, etc.
But, if it’s duties like mowing grass that will need cutting again in a week, or painting a house that will need another coat in a couple of years, or vacuuming a floor that will be dirty again by day’s end; these are the type things that seem like a waste of precious effort. This is where the adage “Life is too short” fits so well.
When life winds down and it’s my turn to see it flash before me; do I really care to see blinking images of neat lawns, clean carpets or a neatly painted house? I think not.
Now, I must go take a shower. There are a few maintenance routines I haven’t abandoned which, if I ever meet you, you’ll appreciate.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
Monday, January 4, 2010
Man in The Mirror
I am a skeptic that would make a garden variety doubter drop in awe. Example: I don’t trust mirrors.
How many times have you been gazing into a mirror and saw a reflection of something you couldn’t believe was real and had to turn and see it directly before you’d believe it? Although my skepticism runs deep, I submit that this is a more common phenomenon than anyone would readily admit.
Yesterday I was doing my usual grooming shirtless in front of the mirror and, although conscious of it already, I began to examine my broadening girth—truly studying it. But, I had to look down at it before I’d believe there was twenty excess pounds my belly button punctuated that didn’t belong there.
The next time you’re at the gym, with all those mirrors around, and you’re admiring and patting yourself on the back for your appearance; you might consider getting a second opinion. I believe mirrors can reflect an ideal at one extreme and a lie at the other.
The next thing you know, I’ll be wondering if my shadow is more real than I am.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
How many times have you been gazing into a mirror and saw a reflection of something you couldn’t believe was real and had to turn and see it directly before you’d believe it? Although my skepticism runs deep, I submit that this is a more common phenomenon than anyone would readily admit.
Yesterday I was doing my usual grooming shirtless in front of the mirror and, although conscious of it already, I began to examine my broadening girth—truly studying it. But, I had to look down at it before I’d believe there was twenty excess pounds my belly button punctuated that didn’t belong there.
The next time you’re at the gym, with all those mirrors around, and you’re admiring and patting yourself on the back for your appearance; you might consider getting a second opinion. I believe mirrors can reflect an ideal at one extreme and a lie at the other.
The next thing you know, I’ll be wondering if my shadow is more real than I am.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
Saturday, January 2, 2010
In The Zone
I am amazed at any novelist that can write under the stress of varied conditions; like kids running through the house, extraneous noises in the neighborhood (mowers, trucks, barking dogs, etc.) or even something as innocuous as a television droning on in another room, not even loud enough to understand a single word. I have gotten writing done on several of these occasions but the only time that I am truly prolific is when I’m in a zone and the focus tunnels to the story in front of me and my fingers crawl over the keyboard as uninterrupted thoughts are sparked and hit my fingertips at the same instant. The joy I feel when it all comes together is indescribable. My time to write is early morning; usually from about 4:30 until approximately 8:00, maybe longer if the story crescendos to an intense level and demands focused attention a while longer. After this period of my day, the ol’ brain begins picking up random thoughts of things left undone from the day before or errands that need handling; you know, all that stuff we call “life”. But every morning my goal and desire is to hit that zone and put a minimum of two thousand words in print, preferably more. Now, if I could only get my multi-tasking wife to recognize and understand the importance of that zone.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Spring 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/May 2010
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