Author: R.J. Keller

Some more great stuff to read

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New works were posted this week at Readers and Writers Blog.

* To Remember and To Forget, by Luke Darbyshire, tells the “tale of Bobby, a rather idiosyncratic young man, and how he deals with his father’s death, his mother’s toiletries, his friend Jim and their mutual love, Anna, has qualities of the dark poetry of Joyce, the mystery of Chandler and even that dystopian craziness found in the best-known work of Anthony Burgess.”

* Hugh Yonn’s Me and the Good Ol’ IRS. “If you’ve read Yonn’s first two contributions to us, you’ll guess there’s a certain amount of irony in his latest work.”

Check ’em out!

It’s good for you!

/ R.J. Keller / 6 Comments

Last night at the store, two customers – old buddies – were faux-fighting over the twelve pack of Miller Lite they were splitting; the old Tastes Great, Less Filling thing. When they asked me to settle the ‘argument’, I offered up these words of wisdom:

“You’re both wrong. Miller Lite does not taste great. It tastes like panther piss. And beer isn’t supposed to be ‘less filling.’ That’s why it’s beer. Now go back to the cooler and get yourselves some Guinness and drink it like real men.”

They didn’t. Wimps.

A post in which Kel tries not to be bitter, but can’t quite help it

/ R.J. Keller / 6 Comments

I was doing my daily perusal of agent’s blogs and learned–on PubRants–that children’s editors are looking for:

–voice and character driven fiction (isn’t that what all editors want?*)

–a family-oriented story with complicated relationship between main character and parents or main character and siblings etc.

–gritty fiction

–novels where the reader watches as the main female protagonist making bad choices or learning to survive

If only I’d thought to make Waiting For Spring a YA novel, it’d probably be in bookstores as we speak.

*parenthetical question is in the original quoted post, not a snarky addition by me.

Odd Thomas

/ R.J. Keller / 4 Comments

I rarely read novels while I’m in the middle of writing a first draft (or, in this case, a third version of a first draft). There are many reasons for this, the chief two of which are a fear of what I will call unconscious plagiarism (although perhaps plagiarism is too strong a word) and a tendency I have towards procrastination.

I made an exception this week, though, and borrowed a friend’s copy of Odd Thomas by Dean Koontz. Since I don’t write supernatural thrillers, I wasn’t worried about Koontz’s style leaking into my novel, and since I’m on quite a roll with the writing, I wasn’t worried about not getting back to it. It was a wise decision.

Brief synopsis (taken from the Odd Thomas website which – by the way – is really cool):

“The dead don’t talk. I don’t know why.” But they do try to communicate, with a short-order cook in a small desert town serving as their reluctant confidant. Odd Thomas thinks of himself as an ordinary guy, if possessed of a certain measure of talent at the Pico Mundo Grill and rapturously in love with the most beautiful girl in the world, Stormy Llewellyn. Maybe he has a gift, maybe it’s a curse, Odd has never been sure, but he tries to do his best by the silent souls who seek him out. Sometimes they want justice, and Odd’s otherworldly tips to Pico Mundo’s sympathetic police chief, Wyatt Porter, can solve a crime. Occasionally they can prevent one. But this time it’s different. A mysterious man comes to town with a voracious appetite, a filing cabinet stuffed with information on the world’s worst killers, and a pack of hyena-like shades following him wherever he goes. Who the man is and what he wants, not even Odd’s deceased informants can tell him. His most ominous clue is a page ripped from a day-by-day calendar for August 15.

Today is August 14.

In less than twenty-four hours, Pico Mundo will awaken to a day of catastrophe. As evil coils under the searing desert sun, Odd travels through the shifting prisms of his world, struggling to avert a looming cataclysm with the aid of his soul mate and an unlikely community of allies that includes the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll. His account of two shattering days when past and present, fate and destiny converge is the stuff of our worst nightmares-and a testament by which to live: sanely if not safely, with courage, humor, and a full heart that even in the darkness must persevere.

It’s a great story, filled with quirky characters. I especially love that Odd is a fry cook, and that he’s able to take a measure of pride in his work (“Anyone can crack a shell and spill its essence into a pan, pot, or pipkin, but few can turn out omlets as flavorful, scrambled eggs as fluffy, and sunnysides as sunny as mine.”) The writing is amazing, too, even in the small descriptive details (“The carport leaned precipitously, as if the weight of the sunshine alone might collapse it.”)

It’s my first Dean Koontz book, so I can’t say how it compares with the rest of his stuff, but I’m definitely planning on reading the rest of the Odd Thomas books so I can find out.

Odd Thomas

/ R.J. Keller / 4 Comments

I rarely read novels while I’m in the middle of writing a first draft (or, in this case, a third version of a first draft). There are many reasons for this, the chief two of which are a fear of what I will call unconscious plagiarism (although perhaps plagiarism is too strong a word) and a tendency I have towards procrastination.

I made an exception this week, though, and borrowed a friend’s copy of Odd Thomas by Dean Koontz. Since I don’t write supernatural thrillers, I wasn’t worried about Koontz’s style leaking into my novel, and since I’m on quite a roll with the writing, I wasn’t worried about not getting back to it. It was a wise decision.

Brief synopsis (taken from the Odd Thomas website which – by the way – is really cool):

“The dead don’t talk. I don’t know why.” But they do try to communicate, with a short-order cook in a small desert town serving as their reluctant confidant. Odd Thomas thinks of himself as an ordinary guy, if possessed of a certain measure of talent at the Pico Mundo Grill and rapturously in love with the most beautiful girl in the world, Stormy Llewellyn. Maybe he has a gift, maybe it’s a curse, Odd has never been sure, but he tries to do his best by the silent souls who seek him out. Sometimes they want justice, and Odd’s otherworldly tips to Pico Mundo’s sympathetic police chief, Wyatt Porter, can solve a crime. Occasionally they can prevent one. But this time it’s different. A mysterious man comes to town with a voracious appetite, a filing cabinet stuffed with information on the world’s worst killers, and a pack of hyena-like shades following him wherever he goes. Who the man is and what he wants, not even Odd’s deceased informants can tell him. His most ominous clue is a page ripped from a day-by-day calendar for August 15.

Today is August 14.

In less than twenty-four hours, Pico Mundo will awaken to a day of catastrophe. As evil coils under the searing desert sun, Odd travels through the shifting prisms of his world, struggling to avert a looming cataclysm with the aid of his soul mate and an unlikely community of allies that includes the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll. His account of two shattering days when past and present, fate and destiny converge is the stuff of our worst nightmares-and a testament by which to live: sanely if not safely, with courage, humor, and a full heart that even in the darkness must persevere.

It’s a great story, filled with quirky characters. I especially love that Odd is a fry cook, and that he’s able to take a measure of pride in his work (“Anyone can crack a shell and spill its essence into a pan, pot, or pipkin, but few can turn out omlets as flavorful, scrambled eggs as fluffy, and sunnysides as sunny as mine.”) The writing is amazing, too, even in the small descriptive details (“The carport leaned precipitously, as if the weight of the sunshine alone might collapse it.”)

It’s my first Dean Koontz book, so I can’t say how it compares with the rest of his stuff, but I’m definitely planning on reading the rest of the Odd Thomas books so I can find out.

A little Q & A

/ R.J. Keller / 7 Comments

Ooooh, Kel’s been getting lots of email lately. Very cool! On Sunday, I was asked the following question:

“How come you don’t blog about your writing process or the publishing industry like most other writers out there do? Just curious.”

Fair enough. For those of you who are interested…

A. My “writing process” consists of:

1. Lying down on the couch for about half an hour each morning, imagining the scene(s) I’m about to write in as much detail as possible. I especially focus on what the setting and/or characters smell like. (Seriously.) Once I’ve got that, I’m all set. Then I:

2. Take a shower. For some reason, that helps my creativity flow more smoothly. Possibly it’s the hot water loosening everything up. Plus it’s easier to concentrate on what the scene(s) smell like when I’m not distracted by my own B.O. Afterwards I:

3. Pour myself a giant mug of coffee (cream and one spoonful of brown sugar), then sit at my computer. I plug myself into my iTunes playlist (which varies, depending on the mood of the scene I’m about to write. For example, yesterday, while writing about a gruesome and gory murder, I put “Epic” by Faith No More on repeat). I listen quietly for a few minutes so I can “get into character.” Then I start writing.

Exciting, no?

You’re right. No.

B. My thoughts on the publishing industry?

Well, I published my novel myself, so that should give you a hint. Zoe articulated my feelings pretty well yesterday when she broke down a recent New York Times article about the state of the publishing industry. My favorite snipit was a quote from a literary agent who gauges what she thinks will sell based on, “Just a feeling.’ She described it as a tingling that went up her spine.” Zoe’s response? “I’m sorry, but I’m not pinning my hopes and dreams on whether or not your spine tingles. See a Chiropractor and read a business book.”

Amen.

I have spoken a little about this subject on this blog here and also here. I think I best summed up my own frustration in a letter to a friend last spring:

“I’ve become rather disenchanted with the publishing business–not because I can’t get published, but because of the reasons I’ve been given. I’m not commercial enough for the “mainstream” agents (for lack of a better term), and not educated enough for the more literary crowd. I guess what I wonder about is this: If a book is “well-written, with engaging characters and a good story” then how is it not marketable? Isn’t that the reason people buy books? Or, if my writing is good, why does it matter that I don’t have an degree?”

So there you have it. Next time I’ll be answering questions about fan fiction and whether or not Waiting For Spring reflects my personal viewpoint on vigilante justice.