The 50th Blog Post

Me with two of my favorite things: a book and
a latte

Blog. No blog. Almost any how-to for author platform-building touts the necessity of the almighty blog. It's a chance to build an audience and prove to the world your voice is worth hearing. Some agents and publishers won't even consider you without one.

Thus, it was with some reluctance that I toed my way into the blogosphere last January. I needed to knock a few boards into the foundation of my virtually non-existent author platform. At the same time, however, I was daunted by the commitment blogging entailed. Time is a commodity and blogging siphons away precious hours that might be spent polishing drafts or hammering out queries. 

Ten months and 50 blog posts later, I still have mixed feelings about the whole endeavor. Nevertheless, my blog and I have come along way since the inceptive post all those months ago. Productive or not for marketability, blogging has without question steered my brain down all sorts of interesting pathways, forgotten thoroughfares and, yes, even a few rancid quagmires. 

If nothing else, this creative space has proved a useful tool. A variation of Tyrion Lannister's famous quote, "A mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone," could say something similar about writers and writing projects. One cannot hope to improve without practice. The more words I stitch together the more vibrant the cloth. And shoving my writing in front of crowd has proven invaluable for the insight gained on creating engaging, solid work that can capture an audience and draw them through to the final words.

I look back on the many words I've hammered onto these virtual pages and feel a sense of modest pride. While not always 100% polished, if nothing else this blog has been an interesting journey. So in honor of this post and its forty-nine predecessors, I've decided to look back at some of the highlights from this long, strange trip. 

Popularity Contest

A blog post's popularity sometimes baffles me. Posts I thought were sure to be a hit fell on their faces while others that felt rather hurried or half-cocked have gone viral (viral is, of course, relative). Regardless of what it means, here are my five most popular blog posts:

1. The Everlasting Journey of the Hero

This post has stolen the show for most pageviews by a good margin. An examination of the components of the age-old narrative structure known as the Hero's Journey and an interrogation of its relevance to storytelling today.

2. The Ancient Mayans Were Disgusting...and So Interesting

In 2016 I visited a sacrificial cave of the ancient Maya near the Belize/Guatemala border. Seeing the busted bones of infants, children and adults that'd been lying in place for a thousand years was a powerful and moving experience. Apparently a few of my readers found it interesting as well.

3. Ten of the Most Beautiful Places I've Seen

A photographic look at ten of the most beautiful places I've ever visited. A post more visual than wordy, it is the most recent post on this list and I suspect a day might come when it scales its way to the top.

4. How I Discovered the Fountain of Youth

No matter how aged or weighed down you are by your ailments, you will always feel young if you visit this Fountain of Youth....

5. Five Sci-fi/Fantasy Series that Tickled the Writer in Me

A writer is shaped by his influences. Not that I want to emulate any of them exactly, but standing on the shoulders of the titans of sci-fi and fantasy is what allows me to see, well, anything at all.

Laugh Award

Every now and then, I take it upon myself to brave the dangerous waters of comedy. It's for you, dear reader, to determine if I'm worthy of even a modest chuckle. Of these occasional posts that represent my attempts at humor, here are two I personally enjoyed writing.

Wondrous Things Uncovered While Moving

In the last two years my wife, dog and I have made a science of moving. Uprooting your world just to plant it somewhere else is mostly just a royal stitch in the back, but occasional sources of humor (like fifteen-year-old heartbreak letters, my first novel and a moldy whatever that is) can be found at the bottom of those mess-heaped closets.

Everything I Needed to Know About Happiness I Learned from My Dog

My dog, Otis, is happier than any human I've ever met. Perhaps we all need to wiggle on our backs in the grass, plunge into icy glacial rivers, and tear into our food with sloppy abandon.

Pedantry

Every writer is full of advice, especially about writing. So if you want a bit of possibly pedantic and certainly dubious writing advice, I have been known to dish a few sentences on the subject. A couple favorite "how to" posts:

Forging Your Idea For a Novel

My first blog post, so of course it had to land on this "highlight reel" somewhere. A few scribbles on one of my favorite components of the novel writing process: forging the idea.

Fiction Writers Can Save the World

A motivational piece, and a bit of self-justification, but captures an important notion every writer has to believe, true or not: we are important!

Honorable Mention

I'm trying to keep my blog posts shorter these days. Not only is it less work, but in these days of massive entertainment saturation, readers are more likely to pull through to the end if I practice brevity. So instead of listing all 50 of my blog posts and yacking on and on about each of them, here is one final mention, a random post that didn't seem to fit in any of the above categories:

Fantastic Medieval Ships (And Where to Find Them)

This fun piece was an early post and popular at the time. I liked it, so here it is.

Well, there it is, a trip down blogger memory lane. Represented here are ten of the 50 posts I have scribbled out since the inception of my blog. I can't tell you how much I appreciate you readers, especially the ones that for some odd reason let me borrow your ear on a regular basis. Your time is important and I hope you never feel you've wasted it with me. 

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For those still interested in seeing more of work, I have an archive page that lists almost all of my blog posts by category. This journey isn't over. I'm sure more book reviews, awkward attempts at humor, bits of pedantic writing advice, and other nonsense is bound to spill from my brain. I encourage any who want to hop on this ship for its bumpy, sometimes terrifying journey through the strange land that is my mind to sign up for my mailing list. You will get once-a-week email updates on new posts as well as announcements such as release dates for upcoming books (eventually) and nothing else. Until then....

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All writing is the original work of Brian Wright and may not be copied, distributed, re-printed or used any form without express written consent of the author. Find out here how to CONTACT me with publishing and/or use questions

Tempting Fate in Rocky Mountain National Park

Five-hundred feet up a slick rock face with a storm moving in and I was about to die….

McGregor Mountain looms of the Fall River entrance
of Rocky Mountain National Park

At least that’s how it seemed as I clung desperately to the blank slab of granite, legs gyrating in fear, with crackles of thunder drawing closer. I’d forgotten how fast blue skies could turn to slate-gray in Rocky Mountain National Park in July above treeline. But frightening as it was being exposed to lightning, the impending storm was the last thing on my mind. I needed focus. Somewhere on the supposedly easy three-pitch 5.5 rock climb on McGregor Mountain, my wife, Ella, and I had gotten lost. Off-route and fifty feet above the last marginal piece of protection that might arrest a potential fall, I was stuck.

Best case scenario a drop now would entail one-hundred feet of sliding, scraping and tumbling down the mountain. With plenty of ledges and sporadic trees to smash into, the consequences of such a fall were too terrible to imagination. The less I tried to think about them, however, the more readily the images come to mind: broken limbs, snapped vertebrae. I doubt even my helmet would do much good.

Above, the rock steepened. The terrain was closer to 5.9 than 5.5 and slippery with the loam of disuse. Great cracks where I could install gear to catch a fall were tantalizingly close on both sides, but getting to them looked nearly impossible. How could this have happened? The whole situation, the very real possibility of disaster on what should have been a fun, mild afternoon outing, was starting to seem surreal, like one of those bad dreams from which you shake yourself awake and laugh. 

Panic nearly choked me. With Ella somewhere out of sight far below me and well beyond earshot, I was quite alone. How much longer could my quaking legs hold on before they shook me off the rock and sent me caroming down to face my doom? Climbing any direction was dangerous, but I could only hold on for so long. That one-hundred-foot tumbling whipper was drawing closer. 

An ill-timed crack of thunder, the closest yet, echoed off the tall, rugged peaks. The storm would soon be upon us.

*

In 2012 the Rocky Mountain Rescue Group, an organization of all-volunteer responders who specialize in rescues on mountainous terrain in Boulder County, published a report with analysis of all incidents in Boulder County involving rock climbing and hiking over a 14-year period. Although RMRG does not cover Rocky Mountain National Park, the group services nearby Boulder Canon, Eldorado Canyon and the Flatirons, some of the most popular climbing areas in the state. This large sample size provides a unique cross section of climbing-related injuries and fatalities.

Although the potential of falling while lead climbing is a predominant fear in the mind of most rock climbers, as it turns out it is not nearly the most common cause of injury or death. While RMRG was called to assist 428 rock climbing accidents in this period, only 5 were fatal incidents involving roped lead climbing. A much higher ratio (12%) were involved in belayer-error incidents and an even higher number (as much as 45%) involved rappelling and/or getting lost on the descent. 

Although the inglorious “whipper,” as a roped lead fall is often called, tends to dominate the Youtube videos and rock climbing tales of woe, it seems the things often taken for granted (i.e. your belay partner or your ability to get safely off the mountain) more often than not prove to be more treacherous. Knowing the relative safety of lead climbing, however, does little to calm quaking nerves when faced with the possibility of a dangerous fall on a difficult rock climb.

*

Time was up. I could delay no longer. Action had to be taken before I simply peeled off the mountain in exhaustion. 

Belaying Ella up the first ptich

I was tempted again by the safe crack system some twenty feet to my left. Getting there, however, involved crossing a strip of impossibly blank rock, no hand or foot holds in sight. A ridiculous part of my mind considered just lunging for it. Going right looked steeper and even more dangerous. Downclimbing was an option, but leading with your feet was always considerably more difficult than with your hands, so I quickly ruled it out.

The only real choice that remained was to go up. Although every bit I climbed would increase the length and danger of a fall, it seemed that in order to find safety I would have to swim through the belly of the beast.

The smooth shield of granite above was broken only by a thin seam. Though it was not deep enough to sink in spring-loaded cams capable of catching a fall, it provided just enough texture for my fingers and toes to scale upward. I pulled higher and higher, increasing the fall potential with every move. I climbed ten feet. Twenty feet. I was so far above my protection now it was almost comical. My life depended on the grip of my fingers, and the friction between my rubber shoes on the slick granite. The slightest slip or broken rock and my worst nightmare would rush upward to meet me. Would it hurt to take a fall like that? Or would it happen so fast the lights would simply go out in a blink?

I was eighty feet above my last cam. Then one-hundred. It had to end eventually. This rock couldn’t go on forever.

Then abruptly, almost magically, a crack appeared in front of my eyes. I was so focused I nearly climbed past it. Shocked I had made it, I plugged in a cam and clipped in my rope with disbelief. I was safe. I installed a second cam just to be sure. The earthquake in my legs slowed. I wasn’t going to die today.

Not long after, the angle of the wall flattened and I found myself standing on the top. The storm I had thought was building had swung far to the north. I constructed an anchor and began to belay Ella up to join me. 

Already my fear from just a few minutes before was beginning to fade. Surely, I had not been in nearly as much danger as I’d thought. Here I was, not injured or lost or stranded. In every sense of the word the climb was a complete success. I stood atop a mountain with a sea of beautiful ridges and notched spines all around. Blue sky broke through the clouds.

It was a perfect day.

NOTE: This article originally appeared in the August 2017 issue of Our Backyard, a regional publication focused on outdoor stories of intrigue and woe

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If you enjoyed this post, consider signing up for my mailing list. When not recollecting near-death mountaineering experiences, I blog about all sorts of bizarre, educational, entertaining, and occasionally funny topics from what makes an effective first paragraph to giant redwoods, medieval sailboats, the ancient Mayans and more. If you do sign up, you will get a once-a-week update on my posts and NOTHING ELSE! No spam, no selling your email to third parties. Okay, if I ever get around to publishing one of these works in progress that are constantly haunting me, I might send out an email letting you know. In the meantime thanks for reading!

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All writing is the original work of Brian Wright and may not be copied, distributed, re-printed or used any form without express written consent of the author. Find out here how to CONTACT me with publishing and/or use questions 

Me in Twelve Pictures

Can a series of images provide a working avatar for a human life? Could I distill myself like an herb into some piquant essence? 

This might seem a little vain. I don't mean it to be. Rather it is an experiment in photo storytelling. The first iteration of this post included blurbs explaining each photo but I quickly realized that was counter to the premise. Instead I decided to allow imagery alone to weave my story. 

You could also view this as an invitation to get to know me. I want to know you too.

A tired adage posits that a picture is worth a thousand words. Perhaps my life warrants more than 12,000 of them. Or maybe most people would lose interest after a few hundred.

Here is a chapter book of images to articulate my life story and life philosophy.

Chapter 1: Pick a Dance Partner More Graceful Than You

Chapter 2: Surrender to Silly Faces

Chapter 3: Grow Competing Beards (and Happily Lose)

Chapter 4: Cool Off with Panache

Chapter 5: Let Some Air Under Your Hems

Chapter 6: Best Every Summit

Chapter 7: Whet Your Mind (And Never Pass Up a Good Cup of Coffee)

Chapter 8: Harmonize the Room

Chapter 9: Reap What You Sow

Chapter 10: Nap Appropriately

Chapter 11: Quench Parched Spirits

Chapter 12: Embrace the Storms

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This is a cop-out blog post. What writer abandons words for a few measly pictures? Not all of my posts are like this, I promise. Usually, I blog about all sorts of crazy, educational, entertaining, and occasionally funny topics from what makes an effective first paragraph to giant redwoods, medieval sailboats, the ancient Mayans and more. If you do sign up, you will get a once-a-week update on my posts and NOTHING ELSE! No spam, no selling your email to third parties. Okay, if I ever get around to publishing one of these works in progress that are constantly haunting me, I might send out an email letting you know. In the meantime thanks for reading!

Follow Me on Twitter!

Sign up for my Mailing List

All writing is the original work of Brian Wright and may not be copied, distributed, re-printed or used any form without express written consent of the author. Find out here how to CONTACT me with publishing and/or use questions 

Seducing Your Readers With a Perfect Page One

The perfect first page. Everything hinges on it.

Agents and publishers, readers and critics will snap-judge your piece, perhaps not even consciously, by those opening words. Call it unfair. Call it superficial. But as writers we work in the attention industry, and now more than ever there are a innumerable suitors for a person's attention. You have one page to convince them that your voice is worth listening to. One chance to seduce them into the intimate relationship that is the writer/reader.

What makes a seductive first page? There is no fine-cut answer. If there was, everybody would know it and everybody would do it. But like courtship there are a few things people who are good at it instinctively know that the rest of us blunder to emulate.

The Tease

In some allegorical way, seducing readers
is not much different than courtship

The subtle art of the tease. The careful transmission of hints and signals that promise something more. A taste of pretty prose. A gentle brush of the fingertips abruptly retracted. Tease the reader and they will come crawling to you for more.

Draw from the Carnal

The human body is a slave to its desires and emotions. Often it will abandon reason in pursuit of them. Touch on basal human motivations: love, fear, adventure. A writer who taps in to carnal desire draws in the reader implacably.

Make Promises but Give No Satisfaction

You are about to lie to the reader. Fiction, after all, is a synonym for lies. Force them to suspend their disbelief with promises of your talent: gorgeous writing, world-building so visceral it breathes, story twisted with mystique. Raise questions the reader must have answered. Hold those answers close until that perfect moment of revelation.

Avoid Too Much Makeup

Dressing prose too extravagantly renders it superficial. Understatement and word economy give the reader the pleasure of thinking they unwound the clues for themselves even if you guided them every step of the way. Great writers say more with less. Avoid the accouterments of desperation. Highlight strengths but keep it classy.

Leave Out Discussions of Marriage

Pushing a reader too far too fast is a quick way to frighten them back into the shadows. Prime them for a thrilling ride; don't heave your story and your prose at them with groping abandon. The most important stuff, the grand finale, should come with flawless timing.

MODEL

Enough of the allegory and the double entendre. Let's move to something concrete.

Here is the first paragraph (the maximum amount I'm comfortable posting here without risking copyright violation) of The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin. This novel and its sequel The Obelisk Gate were both winners of the Hugo Award, one of the most prestigious prizes in speculative fiction. I am using this example because it worked seamlessly on me. It exemplifies many of the qualities I've tried to articulate in this post. 

The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin provides
a well-crafted example of an excellent
first page

Let’s start with the end of the world, why don’t we? Get it over with and move on to more interesting things.

First, a personal ending. There is a thing she will think over and over in the days to come, as she imagines how her son died and tries to make sense of something so innately senseless. She will cover Uche’s broken little body with a blanket—except his face, because he is afraid of the dark—and she will sit beside it numb, and she will pay no attention to the world that is ending outside. The world has already ended within her, and neither ending is for the first time. She’s old hat at this by now.

This powerful beginning strikes at profound basal emotions and simultaneously raises questions the reader needs answered.

"Let's start with the end of the world...Get it over with and move on to more interesting things."

We have something provocative, an apocalypse, but also the promise of "things" even more interesting. This sentence oozes with tension, intrigue and the possibility of adventure.

Next comes a strikingly powerful yet understated scene: a mother laying a blanket over the broken body of her deceased son. The little touch that she doesn't cover his face because he is "afraid of the dark" speaks volumes in just a few words. No need for over-explanation, so much is learned about the setting, the character and the plot one simple stroke of the author's pen. The reader gets an immediate sense of the child's age, his vulnerability, and, thereby, the weight of this tragedy. There is no need to explicitly state the main character's heartbreak or her driving motivations.

This short excerpt is a tease that begs for more. How did the child die? How did the world end? And wait, the world has ended before and the main character has experienced the end of both worlds, within and without, previously?

So many questions. Such tantalizing courtship. This is the type of finely crafted first page I strive for. One that strikes powerful emotional chords and seduces the reader with promises of tension, excitement and adventure. The stage for what promises to be a powerful, exciting and emotional novel is set in just seven sentences.

I am compelled to read on.
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If you enjoyed this post, consider signing up for my mailing list. When not making allegorical comparisons between writing and courtship, I blog about all sorts of crazy, educational, entertaining, and occasionally funny topics from what makes an effective first paragraph to giant redwoods, medieval sailboats, the ancient Mayans and more. If you do sign up, you will get a once-a-week update on my posts and NOTHING ELSE! No spam, no selling your email to third parties. Okay, if I ever get around to publishing one of these works in progress that are constantly haunting me, I might send out an email letting you know. In the meantime thanks for reading!

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All writing is the original work of Brian Wright and may not be copied, distributed, re-printed or used any form without express written consent of the author. Find out here how to CONTACT me with publishing and/or use questions 

What Scares Me

Every year on October 31st, the world (or those in it that recognize such frivolous holidays) tries to frighten itself. Scary movies, ghost stories, spooky costumes, all part of the elaborate ruse designed to riff on one of the most primitive and powerful sensations in the human emotional lexicon: fear.

In honor of the approaching All Hallow's Eve, it's time to face my fears and blog about the things that scare me.

My Health

You might find this pumpkin or these bats scary. I don't.
I would face these guys any day over an awkward social function

Every time I get some strange new pain I'm convinced I'm dying. This is usually confirmed by Google when I plop my symptoms into their handy search bar. I figure Google employs some of the most brilliant people on the planet, so if they tell me I have a rare incurable disease, it must be true.

Flying Stinging Insects

Don't take this the wrong way, honeybees of the world, I really appreciate what you do for us. Pollination is pretty cool and all. But one of your kind (or any of your brethren like wasps or hornets) flying into my shirt and stabbing its thorax sword into my tender places is up there with a root canal and the stomach flu for things I don't want to experience today.

Awkward Social Constructs

The only thing worse than sitting awkwardly in a corner while people hurricane around you communicating freely and apparently enjoying themselves is when people notice you sitting awkwardly in the corner. I can get along with a surprising spectrum of people, but for inexplicable reasons I occasionally find myself turtling into a carapace of self-consciousness when thrust into certain social contexts.

My Imagination

Most of my fears are birthed exclusively from my overactive imagination. That rustle in the shadows was not some nefarious beast or bloodthirsty cacodemon. More likely it was a fluffy squirrel, more frightened of me than I of him. The echoes made by his tiny body were merely augmented into grotesque proportions by my own damn brain. 

Vanishing Global Intellect

It takes only a couple of laps through your favorite social media platform to understand exactly what I'm talking about. Forget mere spelling and grammar abominations, the tone of conversation in this 21st century has reached a new and disturbing ebb. Blame has been laid on so many parties: the internet, movies, video games and parents find themselves most often in the crosshairs. But the problem is too pandemic to stem from any singular source. What is there to be done? I suppose the only thing we can: combat this decline in yourself. Don't get your news from memes. Support science, arts, literature and education. Read books. Ban intellectual poisons from your diet and maybe we might have a chance.

The Most Terrifying Animal in the Animal Kingdom

I loved The Life of Pi and one of my favorite bits of imagery was early in the novel when Pi describes a display at his family's zoo, a curtain with a sign over it that read: "Do you know which is the most dangerous animal in the zoo?" Wondering what could possibly be worse than the lions and tigers and bears (oh my!) on display, people worked themselves into a nervous tizzy and ripped back the curtain with a gasp. What animal was revealed? A mirror. That's right. Humans are the most dangerous animal. No other creature in history (as far as we know) has been the author of a mass extinction (yes, scientists are now saying we are in the Holocene Extinction). We do amazing things, us humans. But we also commit some of the worst atrocities in world history and frankly that terrifies me.

A Mountain of Dirty Dishes

This might not look like much but for me it is the stuff of nightmares

Move over penicillin, rockets, the cotton gin, automobiles, the internet, and the wheel, clearly the dishwasher is the greatest invention in mankind's long history. There is nothing more loathsome then squaring off against a Mt. Everest of dirty, food-crusted plates, cups and silverware. Not only is handwashing dishes a smelly, unpleasant exercise in  futility, it sucks up precious hours of my day that could be spent doing other things, like writing blog posts about how much I hate doing dishes.

The Acceleration of Time

Each year the years get shorter. It's like some sneaky sociopath breaks into my life and pilfers precious minutes, or even hours, every day. Perhaps it is just a function of proportionality: as one ages, a month or a year becomes an increasingly smaller portion of his lifespan. I remember as a kid when a year passed like an eternity. I longed for milestones that approached at a sloth's pace: being 10, getting out of middle school, driving a car, turning 18. Now decades pass in a blink and I think back on things "just a little while ago" and realize they have drifted almost 15 years into my past. Can someone hit the brakes on this?

Typos
Nothing is worse for a writer trying to convince the ruthless world he's worthy than a typo. Well maybe a homonym error. No matter how many pages of semi-worthy writing I produce, vicious critics will write me off for a single lapse in concentration. A forgotten hyphen or a missing comma. Of course, I also scratch my head in wonderment at how such errors sneak into my work despite countless editorial pass-throughs. This is the most powerful of all my fears and hence lands here at the end of this terrifying blog post!

Cower in your closet terrified of ghosts and ghouls or innocuous monsters like bats and spiders if you want. I won't blame you. But come Halloween night, if a dreaded typo comes knocking at my door I'm calling the friggin' cops.

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If you enjoyed this post, consider signing up for my mailing list. When not paralyzed in fear of everything from my own shadow to a dirty pan that housed last night's lasagna, I write about all sorts of crazy, educational, entertaining, and occasionally funny topics from what makes an effective first paragraph in a novel to giant redwoods, medieval sailboats, the ancient Mayans and more. You will get a once-a-week update on my blog posts and NOTHING ELSE! No spam, no selling your email to third parties. Okay, if I ever get around to publishing one of these works in progress that are constantly haunting me I might send out an email letting you know. In the meantime thanks for reading.

Follow Me on Twitter!

Sign up for my Mailing List

All writing is the original work of Brian Wright and may not be copied, distributed, re-printed or used any form without express written consent of the author. Find out here how to CONTACT me with publishing and/or use questions 

Five Books that Left Me Feeling Icky

A well-written novel is one that makes you feel something. But what if that something is discomfort? Disgust? Anxiety? Revulsion? Important books never shy away from tackling difficult subjects: repression, gender roles, crime, deceit, violence, tragedy. Occasionally, however, a book submerges me in such torrent of desolation I feel I'm drowning in its turbid waters.

There have been several books over the years that I literally shoved away when I reached the bottom of the last page. Whether it revealed something uncomfortable about society or some dark place inside my own mind, the book left an icky stain in its wake.

Here are five books that left me with this profound sense of dis-ease.

Gone Girl- Gillian Flynn (2012)

Gillian Flynn's 2012 blockbuster Gone Girl is a perfect example of a novel that left a gray cloud hanging even after it departed. The way Flynn manipulated my emotions to generate a sense of utter helplessness was an incredible feat of writing talent. Gone Girl made me genuinely fear meeting a true psychopath (and I mean a clinical psychopath, as this word is often tossed around incorrectly). But despite the uncomfortable nature of the story, I blasted through its 400+ pages like a meth addict: red-eyed and sleepless, twitching with compulsion when I was forced to put it down. I hated and loved every paragraph.

There is no doubting Flynn's skill. Gone Girl has an engaging narrative structure, riddled with twists and turns. The novel is a vortex that slurps readers into a macabre abyss where the monsters are real and the bottom is too dark to see. This psychological thriller is an exhilarating yet troublesome glimpse into the broken corners of the human mind. How well can you ever truly know a person? If you are married you might find yourself looking sidelong at your spouse as you pour through these pages.

The Handmaid's Tale- Margaret Atwood (1985)

Margaret Atwood's neo-classic The Handmaid's Tale unfolds the story of a dystopian society where women are subjugated by a ruthless patriarchy. It seems more relevant today than ever. As with Gone Girl, I battled a sense of helplessness throughout, which I suppose means Atwood succeeded in rendering a high degree of empathy for the main character. The Handmaid's Tale is disgusting, frightening, and its conclusion left me without a sense of true resolve to unwind the ugly tension that built as the story progressed.

Stylistically, the writing is brilliant. Atwood infuses literary qualities that have stymied critics from applying the damming "sci-fi" label. Instead, The Handmaid's Tale toes the line between genre and literary fiction, winning the 1986 Nebula Award and hitting the shortlist for the Booker Prize, one of the most coveted writing awards in the English language. When I reached the final pages, however, I found it hard to recommend The Handmaid's Tale to friends, instead I was mostly just glad it was over.

The Circle- Dave Eggers (2013)

Dave Eggers is a literary hero of mine and when I saw a book of his was being adapted into a film starring Tom Hanks and Hermoine (oh, I mean Emma Watson) I was intrigued. What I discovered, however, was a story that evoked many of the same discomforts I already possessed about the rapidly expanding role of social media in society. The Circle exists in a highly uncomfortable near-future dystopia that clearly reveals how compulsory participation in social media can devolve to a point where the digital record of an experience becomes more important than the experience itself. The sacred privacy we once cherished is now increasingly subjected to full public syndication.

Critics often compared this novel to Fahrenheit 451 or 1984 and for good reason. The Circle updates these classic stories but still echoes a familiar discomfort. The real-life rate in which technology and social media avenues like Facebook, Twitter, and Youtube are expanding lends chilling verisimilitude to the events in The Circle. I resent the way social media has altered the structure of friendship. Too often I feel compelled to make my rounds through Facebook just to keep my friends from accusing me of neglect. The modern invent of drones and compact cameras like GoPros have allowed your digital self to be broadcast from anywhere on the planet, from hundreds of fathoms beneath the surface of the ocean to the icy summit of Mt. Everest. No place is sacred. Every experience must be shared. The Circle left me queasy, wondering how far society will take this need to divulge even the most mundane moments of everyday life.

The Road- Cormac McCarthy (2006)

For those who haven't experienced a Cormac McCarthy novel, it is difficult to articulate the strangeness prevalent in every one. McCarthy oscillates between tongue-baffling run-on sentences to understated fragments like diminutive brush strokes. He drops mystifying vocabulary with casual elegance and renders impressionistic scenes that read like a Renoir painting. His novels are often suffused in explicit violence, hyper-masculinity and suffocating darkness that plumb the grim corners of the human condition. He is brilliant, yet I lurch between admiration and profound disgust for his work.

The Road is often considered McCarthy's magnum opus. It was the novel for which he won the 2007 Pulitzer Prize. The Road is set in the ashy, despairing aftermath of an apocalypse, the nature of which the reader never learns. A man and his son, who aren't given names, plod through this tragic landscape dodging cannibals, thieves, and the burden of their own grief. Like Gone Girl I became gruesomely addicted to The Road. I didn't want to eat or sleep. As I was immersed in McCarthy's sordid world, I grew paranoid of the people around me, wondering which might try to rob me or perhaps make a meal of my meaty limbs. When it was over, I was convinced Earth was thoroughly doomed. Should we ever come to such a place as found in The Road, I think I'd prefer to swan dive off Niagara Falls than linger like a revenant who hasn't quite realized the world and everything in it has died. To mine for something positive, I suppose The Road depicts man's perseverance in the face of the direst of circumstances. There is no doubt The Road is brilliant. Just don't expect a warm, cheery tale full of hope.

The Talented Mr. Ripley- Patricia Highsmith (1955)

It comes as no surprise that when Gone Girl came out, the New York Times Book Review labeled Gillian Flynn as a modern incarnation of Patricia Highsmith. The Talented Mr. Ripley is a psychological thriller in the same vein, one that gives you a glimpse into the paranoid, thoroughly diseased mind of a master at manipulation. As the main character's crimes spiral out of control, I, too, was drawn deeper and deeper into his storm. Every solution he forges leads to five more problems. But Tom Ripley is indeed talented, even if labeling his skill as "misapplied" is the understatement of the morning.

Deciding whether to empathize or deplore him was perhaps the main tension of the novel for me. By the time I was halfway deep I was thoroughly engaged, pulling for his deceptions and manipulations to succeed and terrified his incredible ruse would come to screeching and spectacular end. I found myself making excuses for him: he was forced into a chain of events beyond his control. He never meant for it to go so far. He was a train without breaks barreling on a downhill track. Deep down he really had good intentions. Ultimately, however, I was disgusted with myself for ever siding with him. What did that reveal about me? Did that mean that with the exact wrong circumstances I, too, could end up so terribly derailed? When the book was over I tossed it away and let the detritus of my life swallow it into its depths, hopefully forever. 

Final Thoughts

What is interesting about these novels, is that every single one of them were "page turners" for me, books I read while I ate, bathed, and brushed my teeth. I awoke from sleep eager to pick back up where I'd left off at 2 a.m. the night before. Though none of them left me blushing with praise, and I might even have said I hated some of them, they have all stuck with me through the years. Perhaps there is something about a novel like this, one that thrusts you so far out of your comfort zone you need a map to get back, that has a uniquely powerful effect on a reader. A primary goal for an author is to elicit a reaction. The stronger this reaction, it could be argued, the more effective the writing.

There are few responses as a reader more memorable and more powerful than discomfort, anguish and desolation.

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All writing is the original work of Brian Wright and may not be copied, distributed, re-printed or used any form without express written consent of the author. Find out here how to CONTACT me with publishing and/or use questions 

Bookmatcher: A Trial Release

(Skip the explanation and go straight to the submit page. Or the find a book page)

A few months ago I was on the search for a new book. Call me picky but I knew what I wanted: sci-fi or fantasy with engaging characters, stunning prose, thrilling adventure, commercial success, recent publication, and written by someone I'd never before read. I'm an aspiring author of speculative fiction; I wanted a book I would both enjoy and one that could teach me about the modern market. 

With so many thousands (millions) of books, how can we hope
to find the perfect one?

The Search Begins

There are so many books in the world; how was I to uncover this elusive title? I started where any normal person would for such a search, the largest book marketplace in the world: Amazon.

The immensity of those virtual shelves, however, are more than a little overwhelming. Their algorithms present only what they want you to see, a tantalizingly lurid oil slick obscuring everything underneath. The only way to puncture this superficial barrier was to tap a specific title into the search bar, but how was I supposed to do that since I didn't yet know what that title was?

On to Phase Two...

Moving on, I ventured onto Wikipedia pages listing former award winners, particularly the Hugo and Nebula. I've read and enjoyed several Hugo winners in the past (The Goblet of Fire, American Gods,  The Yiddish Policemen's Union, and The Windup Girl to name a few). These are the most prestigious awards in speculative fiction, after all, and my wildest dreams sometimes include me clutching the trophy for both, one in each hand. Certainly any Hugo-winning novel possess something valuable for a wannabe author like me, but deciphering which of these candidates might be my perfect match required a surprising amount of research. What was the book's premise? How was it received critically? Was it successful (amazing how many major award winning novels find lukewarm reception from a commercial audience.) What did the 5-star reviewers on Amazon like? What did the 1-stars reviews dislike?

Beyond that, did I really want to limit my search only to award-wining novels? There were absolute mountains of great novels that the benevolent committees of these awards had overlooked. With all the great indie works out there, I wasn't even sure I wanted to go with a book by a major publisher for that matter, much less one that had already earned such recognition. Such an approach seemed to ignore what could prove an astonishingly vast selection of potential suitors for my attention. My find-a-new-book project had turned from a simple exercise into an hours-long debacle. Surely there was a better way.

Already, the possibility I might have the power to create this better way was already turning over in my head. But the idea needed further evolution.

The Plight of Today's Indie Author

Making friends on Twitter with fellow wannabe novelists has been illuminating on multiple levels. The sheer number of hopefuls contending to become one of a few hundred (or even just a few dozen) successful breakout authors each year was staggering and admittedly discouraging. The gold rush of self-publishing allowed so many of us to achieve our dreams of becoming published authors (even if only in name) but the ease of this new industry also created a mountain range of novels in which all who venture this route must clamber to the summit of or risk being buried beneath. And though I have found several great books by indie and small press authors, the vast majority of them (I hate to say) fall painfully short.

This volume of noise makes promoting a new book like trying to shout to above the crowd at an NFL stadium. A few might hear you, most won't care and are probably annoyed you're distracting them from the real action anyway. Even if what you have to say is brilliant, the most likely result is that your voice will drown in the audio matrix of thousands of others much like you. Yet some of these books are brilliant, innovative, entertaining and able to forge an indelible mark on that part of my brain that employs fiction as a vehicle to absorb and interpret this crazy life in this crazy world.

What I dreamed of was a way for these great books to find the readers looking for just such a story. Maybe the problem with modern indie book marketing is that its focus is too obtuse. These authors need a way to zero in on their perfect reader.

I wanted to contribute to a solution. My first idea: use my voice. I unveiled a series of blog interviews of good independent/small press writers whose books I read and deemed worthy of promotion. Unfortunately, however, my voice is not very powerful, and my blog not popular enough for true clout.

Every Inspiration Has its Eureka! Moment

I was lounging in a hammock beside an Alaskan creek with the stunning beauty of the natural world unfolding all around me (such moments have often proved lucrative for great inspiration) when an idea appeared from the vaporous ether. A searchable database where authors could enter highly specific information about their book and readers could, in turn, use the database to find the exact book they were looking for. Like E-harmony for bibliophiles, maybe the database would cultivate that perfect literary chemistry.

I just want to create a tool that helps
indie/small press authors find their
target audience

Returning to civilization, I was anxious to get to work, but alas my new idea collided with a fresh problem: I'm no web guru and I had no budget to hire one. I possess limited skills with html and a forkful of experience tinkering with several personal websites. It occurred to me that making this database a reality required a skillset I simply didn't possess.

After months of scouring the shady corners of the internet (of which there are a shocking many) in search of the easiest way to bring this vision to life, I concluded I was likely going to have to learn to write code. It wouldn't be easy, I figured. But also I pride myself on the ability to work through most things, given enough motivation. I launched into the first in what I assumed was going to be many how-to tutorials. Almost instantly, however, the vehicle carrying me towards this dream hit the quagmire. My eyes went crossed before I'd even made it through page one.

I might as well be faced with the task of learning Chinese.

Bookmatcher is Born

Eventually, however, I stumbled onto what seemed to be a workable solution, of which I have presented a trial version here in the hopes of obtaining feedback. I've named it the Bookmatcher, a working title as I have been absolutely hampered by the fact that every available domain I liked was already taken, often by "squatters" who haven't even turned these potential URLs into a functioning website. They just own the rights and sit on them for nothing. Even some of my less-optimal ideas were striking out (seriously, go eat a gopher whoever owns logophile.com and bibliomatch.com).

Anyway, for now, I've created a prototype database for Fantasy fiction, though I hope in the future to extend it to almost every genre available. Of course, should the idea prove viable I will move it off my author blog and onto its own sparkling website with some clever, functioning domain.

I Need Your Help

This is the point where I solicit feedback. How well did the prototype work? What categories/options are missing that should be included? Is this even something you would consider using? What are the things I haven't thought of? What should this thing be called?

Obviously this web application is in a state akin to a novel rough draft, and I don't expect anyone will find it perfect. Maybe it's a foolhardy idea anyway and not worth anyone's time or effort. Right now I am simply attempting a trial run to gauge interest and efficiency and gather a little feedback. I appreciate any and all help.

So without further ado, please feel free to upload your book into the Bookmatcher or search the existing database. I uploaded a few of my favorite fantasy novels just to give the database a little ballast. I welcome feedback of all sorts.

Thank you so much and happy writing/publishing/reading!

-Submit to the Bookmatcher

-Search the database

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Thank you for supporting the development of this potential web application for writers and readers. If you enjoyed the idea and want to be kept up to date on its progress, or you simply want to read more blog posts by me, consider signing up for my mailing list. When not dreaming of ways to facilitate books and literature, I write about all sorts of crazy, educational, entertaining, and occasionally funny topics from what makes an effective first paragraph in a novel to giant redwoods, medieval sailboats, the ancient Mayans and more. If you do sign up, you will get a once-a-week update on my posts and NOTHING ELSE! No spam, no selling your email to third parties. Okay, if I ever get around to publishing one of these works in progress that are constantly haunting me, I might send out an email letting you know. In the meantime thanks for reading.

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All writing is the original work of Brian Wright and may not be copied, distributed, re-printed or used any form without express written consent of the author. Find out here how to CONTACT me with publishing and/or use questions