I peaked in graduate school.
My major adviser told me that. He said on graduation, I wouldn't get any smarter. That was it. After 7 years of college, my intelligence had peaked. I was 25. All the chemistry, all the research and statistics was still fresh. From that day forward, its color would pale in the unforgiving grind of time.
He was right.
I found my research journal from those days. It was 20+ years old, an old style notebook with faded blue lines and endless numbers and words scrawled in blue ink. I recognized the handwriting. It was mine. What I didn't recognize was anything it said. Not the math or the conclusions or one goddamn formula. There was even metrics.
Metrics!
It may as well have been another life, another person. Those days in the lab were some of the most gratifying. There was no social life. I drank my fill in undergraduate, crashed parties and closed just as many bars. I stopped drinking in grad school. Never saw the dank interior of one single club. Spent my mornings in the lab, afternoons in class and nights studying. I had my own desk in a big room with other grad students. Most of them had come from other countries. Stanley was from China. His name wasn't really Stanley, but that's what he used. Thailand was there. Japan and Kuwait. There were a couple guys from Pakistan, too. Those dudes seemed a little tense.
Han San Wook was South Korean. He and I had the same major adviser. A foreigner that spoke easily the best broken English in the room, he had something the others didn't. A damn fine sense of humor. While most the others only wanted the facts, San Wook laughed a lot. The night before an exam, I would find him sleeping on his desk in the morning. He would eat kimchi and laugh with his mouth open.
Super wide open.
I toured the USDA Vegetable Lab in Charleston today. That's where geniuses like my former classmates work for a living. Their published works were on the wall outside their labs. They were written in English but no one understood a word of it. Unlike me, these people didn't peek at graduation. They were still climbing. They likely have no idea how brilliant they are.
A professor that taught me Plant Membrane Transport (yeah, 14 weeks of the plant membrane, wrap your mind around that) was a former surfer. This guy was cool but so brilliant that he had no clue the rest of us were dummies. When the surf was flat, he said he'd read research journals and find errors in methods and materials. Weird shit like that. I'd stop by his office with a question and he'd answer with some kind of Einsteinian-level math like we were both on the same page. I would nod until he got tired and leave dumber than when I entered.
The aforementioned major adviser that informed me of my impending intellectual decline also told me I had arrived a fork. One path would lead me to know a lot about a little. The other would lead to knowing a little about a lot. At that moment, I was thinking Which one is easier?
But I still geek out over research stuff, listening to the brilliant minds talk about plant breeding and development. Those people know a lot about a lot. This time I left a little smarter. I think.
I don't remember.
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
Thursday, January 7, 2016
Socket Greeny Has My Voice
Most of my books are available in audiobook, but none in my voice. Until now.
I recently decided to give one of my characters a read. I chose Socket because he was my first story and the character I felt most attached to. So I bought a microphone (Snowball) and set up a disturbing little studio in the back closet.
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| Click to download. |
Armed with Audible (free sound mixing software) and a few YouTube videos on correcting mistakes and cleaning up background noise in addition to compressing audio, I went about the business of reading a story.
It's harder than you might think.
I would run out of breath or swallow way too much. This in addition to a flood of mistakes. The mic picks up every tiny sound. I would tell my daughter not to flush the toilet or close a cabinet or think too loudly.
The software turned my voice into something more listenable than I thought possible. And since I knew the characters inside-out, I had an advantage of how to tell the story over another narrator--regardless how silky smooth or professional sounding, they can't know them like I know them.
In the end, I wasn't horrible.
For an extended sample, click below.
Get it on Audible.com (HERE) for free with a credit (you get 2 credits for signing up).
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Thursday, November 5, 2015
Making Socket Greeny
The prequels are complete.
Three prequels. One for Foreverland, one for Halfskin. And now one for Socket Greeny.
They are all novellas. They are all free. If you've read one or all of the trilogies, you may still enjoy reading how they all came to be. If you haven't read them then you have nothing to lose. The brevity of a novella is a convenient way to test drive a story.
Seeds of Foreverland and The Making of Socket Greeny are original stories. Halfskin (The Vignettes) are the short stories from the Halfskin trilogy; however, there is an original story at the end called 108 Stitches.
Get them today.
Three prequels. One for Foreverland, one for Halfskin. And now one for Socket Greeny.
They are all novellas. They are all free. If you've read one or all of the trilogies, you may still enjoy reading how they all came to be. If you haven't read them then you have nothing to lose. The brevity of a novella is a convenient way to test drive a story.
Seeds of Foreverland and The Making of Socket Greeny are original stories. Halfskin (The Vignettes) are the short stories from the Halfskin trilogy; however, there is an original story at the end called 108 Stitches.
Get them today.
THE BERTAUSKI STARTER LIBRARY is FREE!
Get 3 full-length novels and 1 novella.
Saturday, September 26, 2015
Boxing Halfskin
The book has been closed on Halfskin, but the door isn't locked.
I began fiction writing several years ago. There was no course planned, no career trajectory charted. It was just leap into one story and then another, each time wondering if I had another story in me. First it was Socket Greeny, then Foreverland followed by Halfskin with Drayton somewhere in the mix. None of the stories seemed to have anything to do with each other.
But that's about to change.
I just boxed Halfskin. All three books in a one convenient package. If you've read the series, drop a review on Amazon for me. Much appreciation will come your way.
Foreverland and Halfskin story arcs merged in book 3 of both trilogies. The next series will be born out of that merger. Right now, I don't know what it's called or who will be in it, but I know one thing. It will connect Foreverland and Halfskin with Socket Greeny.
All 3 trilogies linked.
Somehow.
I can't wait to see how this happens.
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Thursday, August 20, 2015
Back to the Beginning
I love a good prequel.
Years ago, there was a report about readers that enjoy their story more when they know the ending. The tension, some feel, is too much. My daughter is exactly like that. She reads the last chapter and then starts from the beginning. She does the same thing with movies, googling the ending before we watch it.
She's under strict orders not to report that information to me. I love the tension. I want the surprise. I want to guess and pick up the clues.
In full disclosure, I did read the ending once. It was sort of by accident. It was a book called Genesis by Bernard Beckett. I'm such a curmudgeon when it comes to reading that I'll bail if the first chapter doesn't grab me. I was a couple chapters into Genesis and my interest was beginning to wane. I was going to put it down when (and I don't know why) I did something I've never done before.
I read the last page.
And that made all the difference. Beckett had one of the game-changers reserved for the very last page. And that is right up my alley. I read the book with this in mind and had an entirely different experience knowing the twist. It was wonderful.
After finishing the last book in the Halfskin series (Bricks), I sat down to plan out my next project. I'm too late to finish a Claus book for Christmas 2015, so I'm planning to return to that series in 2016. Instead, I came up with the idea of doing prequels for Foreverland, Halfskin, and Socket Greeny.
I am jacked.
These will likely be novellas that cover some bases before each of the series started. I'm currently working on the Foreverland, but the stories are coming fast so I hope to have them out in the next six months or so. Here's what's planned so far.
Stay tuned.
Years ago, there was a report about readers that enjoy their story more when they know the ending. The tension, some feel, is too much. My daughter is exactly like that. She reads the last chapter and then starts from the beginning. She does the same thing with movies, googling the ending before we watch it.
She's under strict orders not to report that information to me. I love the tension. I want the surprise. I want to guess and pick up the clues.
In full disclosure, I did read the ending once. It was sort of by accident. It was a book called Genesis by Bernard Beckett. I'm such a curmudgeon when it comes to reading that I'll bail if the first chapter doesn't grab me. I was a couple chapters into Genesis and my interest was beginning to wane. I was going to put it down when (and I don't know why) I did something I've never done before.
I read the last page.
And that made all the difference. Beckett had one of the game-changers reserved for the very last page. And that is right up my alley. I read the book with this in mind and had an entirely different experience knowing the twist. It was wonderful.
After finishing the last book in the Halfskin series (Bricks), I sat down to plan out my next project. I'm too late to finish a Claus book for Christmas 2015, so I'm planning to return to that series in 2016. Instead, I came up with the idea of doing prequels for Foreverland, Halfskin, and Socket Greeny.
I am jacked.
These will likely be novellas that cover some bases before each of the series started. I'm currently working on the Foreverland, but the stories are coming fast so I hope to have them out in the next six months or so. Here's what's planned so far.
Seeds of Foreverland (Foreverland prequel)
The Making of Socket Greeny (Socket Greeny prequel)
One-Skin (Halfskin prequel)
Stay tuned.
THE BERTAUSKI STARTER LIBRARY is FREE!
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Sunday, August 16, 2015
The Finish
Finish strong.
You need a good beginning. Reader's will forgive a sluggish middle, but they'll likely put down a book with a weak beginning. A tepid ending and they'll forget the story, or put it down and think, Meh.
But a strong ending? You've got a fan.
For me, the ending is the most important part of the story. I've forgiven entire stories when the ending is good. For me, good is shocking. Good is I didn't see that coming. Good is the ending that sticks with me for days. As a reader, I want a story that I don't see what's coming next, a story with an ending I can't predict.
Stephen King isn't a strong ender. Probably because he's a pantser, his plots unfold as he writes. He's one of the most prolific and visceral writers alive, always good for a chuckle and a cringe. But more often than not, his endings fizzle instead of pop. (Dr. Sleep was an exception.)
Frequently, I have the ending figured out before I begin writing. The challenge is how to get to it in a plausible, entertaining fashion. How do you put the reader on the edge of her seat, a veritable thrill ride that deposits her in a swoosh of white water excitement? Yeah, that's the challenge.
If I can find an ending that turns the story upside-down (ala Sixth Sense), then I've hit a home run. The conclusion of The Socket Green Saga did that. Foreverland is Dead, too. Halfskin, I was happy with.
More often than not, I want a satisfying conclusion. I don't like cliffhangers, the type of ending that doesn't resolve the plot. You can write a series without that dissatisfaction. Rowlings did it quite well, and we were clamoring for the next book.
Current work in progress, I have the ending. The character need to get into the basement. That's where the big reveal is going to happen. It will explain the tension going on within the family, will resolve some of the questions existing in the story arc (as well as other questions in subsequent novels since this is a prequel).
So I've got to get him into the basement. It's got to be logical, feasible. Believable.
I know the story arc, know how I want it to start, some of the highlights, but it's got to end up in the basement. With that in mind, I can set up foreshadowing, seed reasons for him getting into the basement. His parents are always down there and it's always locked. Do they just forget to lock it one day? No, that's not feasible. Does he pick the lock? Break through the door? Does he have a reason besides curiosity to get into the basement?
Maybe.
The story can contain tension between Harold, a twelve-year-old boy that is something of an outcast at school, and other students. I'm thinking there can be a scene where the antagonists want payback for something (Harold shoots one in the eye with a pellet gun) and chase him all the way inside the house. Harold panics and runs to the basement to hide. I'm not how he gets down there, but I'll figure that out later.
Yeah. There's something there I like.
It's not totally fleshed out. In fact, when I get to that scene, it's likely to have transformed into something resembling it. Or not at all. But I have something I like, I can feel it. That subtle instinct is connecting with it and I'm ready to start writing toward it.
I like it. And when I'm done, if I still like it, I can only hope readers will like it.
And there's no guarantee that'll happen.
To be continued...
So I've got to get him into the basement. It's got to be logical, feasible. Believable.
I know the story arc, know how I want it to start, some of the highlights, but it's got to end up in the basement. With that in mind, I can set up foreshadowing, seed reasons for him getting into the basement. His parents are always down there and it's always locked. Do they just forget to lock it one day? No, that's not feasible. Does he pick the lock? Break through the door? Does he have a reason besides curiosity to get into the basement?
Maybe.
The story can contain tension between Harold, a twelve-year-old boy that is something of an outcast at school, and other students. I'm thinking there can be a scene where the antagonists want payback for something (Harold shoots one in the eye with a pellet gun) and chase him all the way inside the house. Harold panics and runs to the basement to hide. I'm not how he gets down there, but I'll figure that out later.
Yeah. There's something there I like.
It's not totally fleshed out. In fact, when I get to that scene, it's likely to have transformed into something resembling it. Or not at all. But I have something I like, I can feel it. That subtle instinct is connecting with it and I'm ready to start writing toward it.
I like it. And when I'm done, if I still like it, I can only hope readers will like it.
And there's no guarantee that'll happen.
To be continued...
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Monday, July 27, 2015
The Grind
Writing that opening chapter is exciting.
New characters, a sizzling story arc. There's meat on the bone that makes you salivate for the keyboard. You write the first chapter and it's everything you thought it would be. Maybe more. And then you get to the second chapter and it's a little bland but still good. Third chapter, okay yeah, it's all right. Fourth chapter, you start thinking about another story.
There is no fifth chapter.
Starting a story is easy. The real work is in the middle. For all the romanticizing that goes along with story writing--the characters that talk to us, the story that writes itself, the universes that unfold in our heads--there's a lot of sweat equity left unsaid. Stories that grind to a halt, plots that suddenly unravel, characters that become dull, unlikable assholes. Several authors (including George R.R. Martin and Dorothy Parker) put it this way:
There's no way around the fact that some of this shit takes heavy lifting. Some days the story drips from your fingers like butter. The next day you're Sisyphus. Maybe you'll get lucky and not suffer writer's block, you'll just dictate Mark Twain from beyond. Odds are, you're like the rest of us. That's the deal.
Dedicate yourself to write something, anything. Just write. Everyday, write something. Even if it's not your story, get the words out. You want to drop into the flow, even if its pouring from a sewer. Sometimes the blank page needs a slick layer of vomit to get started. Start writing, even if the mantra in the back of your head tell you,
You'll never arrive at the end without climbing the mountains of trash. Expect to delete. Expect to slash and burn your way through the hubris, to mold that pile of shit into something workable, into a direction, an idea.
This is the gym of the word pimp. These are the days of sweat equity, of building the writer's muscle. It will develop the leather ass that bangs the keys for hours instead of minutes. Most importantly, it cultivates the storyteller compass.
This is the subtle instinct that develops in the gut, that little whisper that says, "Psst. Wrong way." Rather than pushing that boulder up the hill for days, you sense when it's time to stop, to turn around and look for another direction. You'll burn less words, you'll know when you've lost the flow and where to find it. But you won't get there without the mountain.
Outline. Develop. Write. That's my approach. When it falls apart--and it will, often--then go back to the beginning and outline, develop, write. That's the process. That's the climb.
When you're finished, step back and admire. You did that. Yes, you did. And maybe it's still a pile of shit, but that's your pile. And you ain't going anywhere without it. Send it out to the world, see what comes back. Maybe no one loves it but you. Maybe harsh criticism opens your eyes. Then go back, put your feet in the blocks and start again. Enjoy that shit all the way to the end.
Because that's the deal.
To be continued...
New characters, a sizzling story arc. There's meat on the bone that makes you salivate for the keyboard. You write the first chapter and it's everything you thought it would be. Maybe more. And then you get to the second chapter and it's a little bland but still good. Third chapter, okay yeah, it's all right. Fourth chapter, you start thinking about another story.
There is no fifth chapter.
Starting a story is easy. The real work is in the middle. For all the romanticizing that goes along with story writing--the characters that talk to us, the story that writes itself, the universes that unfold in our heads--there's a lot of sweat equity left unsaid. Stories that grind to a halt, plots that suddenly unravel, characters that become dull, unlikable assholes. Several authors (including George R.R. Martin and Dorothy Parker) put it this way:
I don't like to write. I like to have been written.
There's no way around the fact that some of this shit takes heavy lifting. Some days the story drips from your fingers like butter. The next day you're Sisyphus. Maybe you'll get lucky and not suffer writer's block, you'll just dictate Mark Twain from beyond. Odds are, you're like the rest of us. That's the deal.
Dedicate yourself to write something, anything. Just write. Everyday, write something. Even if it's not your story, get the words out. You want to drop into the flow, even if its pouring from a sewer. Sometimes the blank page needs a slick layer of vomit to get started. Start writing, even if the mantra in the back of your head tell you,
This is shit.This is shit.This is shit.This is...okay, that's not bad. The rest is shit. But this is all right. I like this.
You'll never arrive at the end without climbing the mountains of trash. Expect to delete. Expect to slash and burn your way through the hubris, to mold that pile of shit into something workable, into a direction, an idea.
This is the gym of the word pimp. These are the days of sweat equity, of building the writer's muscle. It will develop the leather ass that bangs the keys for hours instead of minutes. Most importantly, it cultivates the storyteller compass.
This is the subtle instinct that develops in the gut, that little whisper that says, "Psst. Wrong way." Rather than pushing that boulder up the hill for days, you sense when it's time to stop, to turn around and look for another direction. You'll burn less words, you'll know when you've lost the flow and where to find it. But you won't get there without the mountain.
Outline. Develop. Write. That's my approach. When it falls apart--and it will, often--then go back to the beginning and outline, develop, write. That's the process. That's the climb.
When you're finished, step back and admire. You did that. Yes, you did. And maybe it's still a pile of shit, but that's your pile. And you ain't going anywhere without it. Send it out to the world, see what comes back. Maybe no one loves it but you. Maybe harsh criticism opens your eyes. Then go back, put your feet in the blocks and start again. Enjoy that shit all the way to the end.
Because that's the deal.
To be continued...
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Get 3 full-length novels and 1 novella.
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