Posts Tagged ‘writing’

As many of you know, I’m preparing to release a collection of short stories known as The Quiet Game: Five Tales To Chill Your Bones (you can find the link for the Facebook page below). As I’m getting ready though, I want to also release some other stuff, drum up a little excitement. Which is why I’m hopefully going to be releasing a promotional short story later this week, so that until The Quiet Game comes out, you’ll have something to at least get an idea of what my writing is like (especially if you’ve never read any of my work before).

I won’t say much about the short story in particular, except that I will tell you I wrote it in high school and have given it several edits over the years. However, as my high school English teacher Mr. Guinan said, “There comes a time when a story is done. Not perfect, but done. When you can’t do anything else to it, when you can’t polish it or improve it anymore. It’s just done.” And this story is definitely done.

So tomorrow I’ll see about creating a cover that matches the story, turn the whole darn thing into a PDF file, and when I have the copyright, I’ll upload it onto Amazon and onto Smashwords (the latter makes it available on Barnes & Noble, iTunes, and a bunch of other sites). Now, the copyright is still going to cost money, so I’m on the fence on whether or not to charge for downloads (and if so, how much). So if you have an opinion either way, please let me know. As always, I value your opinions.

I hope to have more on this short story soon. I also plan to create a page called “Other Work by Rami Ungar”, but I’ll get to that when the time comes.

And once again, thanks for reading and thanks for supporting me. I really appreciate it.

http://www.facebook.com/#!/TheQuietGameFiveTalesToChillYourBones

It’s not uncommon for people reading fiction or watching a movie to identify with a character and say to themselves, “I want to be like that character”, or “I so wish that could be me.” We’ve all done it at least once. For years, I waited for a letter to go to Hogwarts, and was a little disappointed that I never got one, even if I knew it wasn’t possible to get one. Teenage girls today look at the Twilight books and films and wish they were so lucky that two hunky, supernatural guys would fight over them, even if one of them has some personality problems and wants to bite you. And I think plenty of us have wanted to blow up the Death Star or use the Force (I know I want to be a Sith Lord).

But it may surprise some people that writers of fiction do this too. In fact, it’s not uncommon for writers to insert themselves in their stoires, sometimes in very heroic or very different roles that are unlike who they really are. Now, you may be thinking, why should a writer do that? Shouldn’t they be creating figures we ourselves want to emulate, not figures they want to emulate or wish to be? But if you think about it in a certain way, it makes sense:

Nobosdy ends up a writer by accident or by purpose. We end up as writers through the various events in our lives. Yes, some of us show talent early on, but we don’t end up becoming writers just because we display talent. I ended up a writer because I liked to create stories, and writing allowed me to take those stories and share them with others in a very efficient way. Not only that, but I had plenty of people over time who encouraged my writing and helped shape me into the person I am today.

Imagine what would happen if I had never learned to love writing though. What sort of person would I be? Well, maybe I’d be a psychology major instead of double-majoring in History and English. I’d be learning about psychopathy and trying to become an analyst for the BAU. Of course, I wouldn’t look forward to the Stats classes. Those are tough!

Or imagine if I’d never come to Columbus and made a fresh start, but instead stayed at the same school in my old town where I was bullied. I might get fed up with it and one day just snap. This would lead me to become a delinquent with anger issues, and eventually I might go to jail for all of my fighting and other bad behavior. Or maybe an intervention might occur, I’d repent my ways, and become a lawyer dedicated to reforming schools.

Or imagine I was a girl. Would I still write? Might I instead be interested in a different lifestyle? Perhaps I’d be a friendly rival of Lady Gaga in terms of fashion and singing! Or perhaps I’d have done some stupid stuff in high school and I’d be a single mother working her way through college. How would I find time to write with all that going on?

You see what I’m doing here? I’m imagining myself in different roles and under different conditions. And as each person is the star of their own story, I’m basically imagining myself in a story where I’m the star and I’m very different from who I am. It’s not too hard after this to apply myself in a different character role for a completely different story.

And the examples above are only the start. It could get wilder, especially since I write fiction with horror/sci-fi/fantasy elements. Imagine what I would be like if I grew up in a world where psychics were a real phenomena, and about 10% of babies were born with it. Imagine that I was born with psychic abilities. What would my life be like? Or what if one of my siblings was a psychic and I wasn’t? Would jealousy make me do strange things?

Or what if we lived in a world where South Africa was the dominant superpower on Earth? How different would our culture be? Would I still be living in the US, or would I live in Johannesburg?

What if humans weren’t the ruling species of Earth, but some other creature was? Would the relationship between humans and this ruling species be symbiotic or would we be hunted by them? How would I feel about the relationship?

Or imagine if the Kingdom of Israel had never fallen, but had lasted for centuries, expanded beyond its original borders, and Islam and Christianity were minority religions like Judaism is today. Would I live in Israel? What would I be doing there right about now? What other countries, faiths, and cultures would exist? What sort of technology would be available, and would the religious establishment allow or ban certain types of technologies?

Or imagine that humans never aged beyond fifteen, died at sixty-three, lay eggs instead of gave life birth, and turkeys were considered divine symbols? What would the world look like, and what sort of strange comedic science-fiction story would I be living?

You see how this is for writers? We put all these possibilities into motion when we sit down to write and we insert ourselves into the story in some capacity. It’s weird, but it’s what we do, and as you can see from above, it’s a lot of fun to do. I actually do it a lot. And if anyone tells us that we could never be military captains or wizards or the pop divas with supernatural abilities, we just say, “It’s fiction. Besides, who says if things weren’t a little different, I might actually be these things?”

What’s your favorite role to imagine yourself in when you insert yourself in a story? Do you think you could be any of those things if life were a little bit different?

I spoke a few days ago about how I had written short stories that were terrible, and that I tucked these short stories away until I can find some way to improve, edit, and/or rewrite these short stories. Lately several of these short stories have gotten edited and rewritten, due to inspiration coming my way and helping to improve the stories while keeping the basic ideas. I’m happy about that.

However, I mentioned a four-year-old story that I’d hoped would get a rewrite or edit someday. I just needed the idea. And tonight I got it. I had such an idea to run with, one that would turn this crappy story into a suspenseful, emotional rollercoaster. I was so happy and thrilled.

But that thrill only lasted a few seconds. You see, the short story I wrote in high school was about a school shooting. And no matter how good of an idea I got, it’s just too soon to do this sort of story. There’s a raging gun debate, parents, teachers, and students are scared stiff that their school might be attacked next, all sorts of options are being discussed. But most of all, there are just too many raw feelings after Sandy Hook.

As great as an idea as I had this evening, I couldn’t write this story without feeling a little guilty. In fact, I’m not even sure I want to rewrite it now. It’s just too soon, and I don’t know if there will ever be a time when I’m comfortable rewriting this story. I’ll keep it stored away on my flash drive, just like I’ve done since high school. Maybe I’ll even edit it someday, when the fears have died down and the memories have dulled a little with time.

For now though, it’s best that I don’t work on this story, especially with so many other stories for me to edit and write. I think that’s the best decision. Don’t you think so too?

Okay, so today I stopped by the school library to see about copyright laws (if you’re going to self-publish something, might as well be protected by law from people using your work illegally and without permission). According to the woman whom I talked to, it’s actually much easier than I thought to copyright your literary work. A little costlier than I thought, but only by twenty dollars. Compared to tuition money, it’s not too bad. And hey, if this is a success, it’ll be worth the investment.

By the way, I’ve been thinking of releasing a short story not in the collection as a little promotion for The Quiet Game: Five Tales To Chill Your Bones. What do you guys think? Would you buy one of my short stories if it was priced at ninety-nine cents? Oh, and if you’re uncertain, I’m choosing between a kidnapping thriller and a scary story involving neo-Nazis. What say you?

The next short story in my upcoming collection of short stories, “I’m Going To Be The Next James Bond”, is finally ready for publication. This was the fourth short story I wrote over vacation, and it’s one that gave me a bit of trouble writing. Nevertheless I got it done and boy, do I like how it turned out. It’s weird, it’s creepy, it’s a little spooky. Hopefully readers will like it too.

I didn’t have to change much for the final draft. My beta reader for this short story, my mother Rabbi Wendy Ungar (yes it’s my mother, but she gives pretty solid advice, not just praise), told me to add in some creepy elements in order to better the story near the end, and that’s what I did. Now there’s a gross undertone with one of the characters, something that might make you a little afraid of that character too. Thanks Ima for the advice and for using Stephen King stories for it too.

I need three more stories in order to publish “The Quiet Game”. Hopefully my beta readers for those stories will also get back to me soon. In the meantime, I’ll keep you updated on the progress of everything as it coalesces. For the Facebook page for “The Quiet Game: Five Tales To Chill Your Bones”, click here:

http://www.facebook.com/#!/TheQuietGameFiveTalesToChillYourBones

I was watching a scary movie in my room while everyone else watched the Super Bowl downstairs. I’m telling you, besides college football and basketball, I don’t usually give a damn about sports. I only decided to support the Ravens out of some admiration for Edgar Allen Poe (“Nevermore!”). So I ended up in my room watching the sequel to The Haunting in Connecticut, which was decent compared to some other horror films I could name. After it’s done I check the news, and see the headline: 39-Minute Delay as Superdome Experiences Outage.

It’s at these moments, when I’ve just been in a scary state of mind and strange events happen, that ideas come to me. Scary ideas, horrific ideas, macabre ideas. And one did come to mind. I immediately start pondering the idea, meditate, and then start thinking of an idea. Suffice to say, I came up with a possible story. During the coming years, until I actually get around to writing it, that story will probably change around in my dark, zany mind until a fleshed-out story appears. At the very least, I have something here that I can put down on my ideas list.

Tell me, have you ever had any ideas that have come to you from strange events? Because I have an idea for a slasher film based on Hurricane Sandy also that came to me when I was walking into work after the third straight day of rain.

I’ve taken two writing workshops so far at school, with the goal of becoming a better writer. Have I become a better writer? I like to think so; none of the stuff I’ve produced since my first meeting in the workshop last semester has gotten a “yay” or “nay” as far as being published, but I think that same stuff is a little bit better.

However I may also be a little more literary in my writing voice. This is because the workshops I take emphasize literary fiction, mostly because of the character development aspect of it, but also because some critics believe that genre fiction is predictable (I’ll admit that’s sometimes true, but quality genre fiction can do the same old shtick several times and each time make it seem original and utterly compelling, so there’s no reason to put it down). Because of this emphasis on literary fiction, I’ve had to write my stories with more of a literary verve than before, and I’ve definitely had to critique and merit the stories based on how good they are, both as literary fiction and as fiction in general.

Because of all that, my style might sound a little more literary than before. I mean, today at the library, taking a break from homework and school pressure, I started writing a story about a character contemplating suicide. Before, that would’ve had a more thriller bent. But now, I’m wondering how to draw out his character, how to make it seem natural and realistic, how to get people invested in the character. And I find myself drawing on everything I’ve written and read for these workshop classes I’ve been taking, and I find myself thinking, “I’m becoming something I swore I wouldn’t become.”

What I swroe I wouldn’t become was an author of literary fiction, which I feel for the most part is boring and slow and too realistic for my dark tastes. And even though I’ve resisted, some of the elements of literary writing have rubbed off on me. Am I sad or angry? I’m not sure. Maybe a little worried. I mean, I like genre fiction. If I write in a more literary style, will people stop liking my work as genre fiction? Or is the fact that I’m a bit better at writing realistic stories with character development only going to aid me in the future?

I have no clue. And truthfully, I won’t get a clue for a while, at least not until I’ve published a little more work and seen how people react to it.

What’s your opinion? Do you think having some literary aspects to your creative process and to your writing is a good thing, or a bad thing?

And I think I’ve thought of a new title for it: “In The Lady Ogre’s Den”. Why I call it that, I can’t tell you. You’ll have to read the story to find out.

I like how this new version of the story turned out. Sure the ending might need a tweak or two, but I think this version is much better. Hopefully I can make it even better on the second draft. I’ll know once I start editing.

Unfortunately I had to take out the Navajo elements from the story. The black wolf character identifies itself as a death wolf, but that’s as close as it gets to the original Navajo themes. Also, I expanded the role of the main character Jason’s father, mostly because I thought that for this version his role needed to be expanded a little.

Anyway, I hope to have this particular short story edited and finished soon. Until then, I’ll just keep writing. I’ve got plenty of ideas, and they’re just screaming to be implemented and turned into short stories.

Hope for updates soon, so I’ll let you know.

My Style Is My Own Style

Posted: February 2, 2013 in Reflections, Writing
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I was talking to someone who lives on my floor today, and we started talking about our mutual interests in Stephen King and James Patterson. At some point during this conversation, he asked me if my style was very much like Stephen King’s. To which I replied, “My style is more like my style.”

I returned to this conversation just a moment ago, thinking about what goes into style. There’s word choice, tone, pacing, character archetypes, setting, conflicts, themes…all these and more go into style. But trying to categorize something like style in words never seems to do it justice. When we enjoy an author, we get a feel for their style, and that’s how we define style, by that feel we get. It makes us say, “This is definitely one of his/her books.”

And speaking of feel, I had a feeling that my friend was talking about my influences, so I told him I was very much influenced by King, Anne Rice, and Patterson, with a few others adding here and there. But it’s mostly those three, and they all have a very interesting style of their own: King has a rawness even after all these years. His plots are strange and convoluted, often veering to the science-fiction areas of fiction, especially in his recent work, and he’s not afraid to go to places most of us wouldn’t, be it a crass joke or a sex scene involving fifth graders.

Anne Rice is an aristocrat among writers. Her work is dark but deep, philosophical and full of supernatural mystery. There’s a sensual feel in her words, as if every gesture of her characters has a hidden flirtation in it, and the worlds she paints are rich and vivid, almost like a painting. But as her characters sometimes remark, no matter how pretty the painting, it’s always just a painting, and we are aware of the trappings we adore, and the things we possess, and we realize that they are all meaningless, that this entire world is meaningless if we detach from it, just like Rice’s characters are often detached from the world.

And James Patterson is fast-paced, full of emotive power and simple sentences that convey to us what is happening in the story. When we see into the minds of some of the characters, we can sense all their feelings, whether despairing, angry, or full of sick glee (especially true of the villains).

But my style? I’m probably not the best person to categorize it. It’s dark sure, and it does show that I’m not as experienced as others in my field. Occasionally you get a feel for the zany character that wrote my fiction (and don’t deny it, I’m plenty zany). But most of all, I think you can sense a yearning. Yes, yearning. I’m yearning, yearning to give the world fiction that people will like and that they’ll read and possibly review on Amazon and maybe talk about with others, whether to trash it or praise its merits. I’m yearning to give people that sort of work, and I think you can sense it when you read my creative work. Maybe that’ll go away as I gain more experience, but until then, it’s part of me and my writing.

In the meantime, I shall work on my stories, yearning or no yearning, and see if they can bring joy (or terror) to others. Wish me luck.

What’s your style like, if you have to define it? Who influenced you?

In my creative writing class yesterday we critiqued a story by one of our classmates, the story starring a rather interesting character. The “interesting” part I’ll decline to elaborate too much on in case this classmate edits this story and it gets published or something, but there is something that I can reveal: the main character is one of those writers who think they are the best thing since Shakespeare, that they are destined for greatness and anyone who dislikes or doesn’t understand their work is an idiot who couldn’t find brilliance if brilliance kicked them in the ass.

The funny thing is, every writer has been that writer at some point in their careers. I certainly was. It’s usually at that point where we can string together some semblance of a story together with any coherence to it. For those who discovered the joys of writing young, that’s usually in the teen years. I know for a while I thought all I had to do was write and eventually I’d come out with a novel that would be published within a year of finishing it, sell millions around the world, and I’d have an actress girlfriend whom I’d take to the premiere of the movie version with me.

Thank God, most of us outgrow this phase and realize that writing’s hard, good writing is harder, and writing anything that could be published is an amazing feat. For some, it’s only done once or twice in a lifetime. Others get a bit luckier, and they get published several times. A few of those get famous for it, or at the very least can afford to take up writing full-time (I’ll settle for that if I can’t be famous). All of these people who have been published though, even if it’s only once, were published after they got through this “I’m brilliant” phase.

Now, I know there’s no way I can prove that to you. It’s not as if I went to thousands of published writers, both contemporary and in the past, and asked them what they thought of themselves and their writing. But I have a reason why I think this, and here’s my reasoning: the writers who believe this way look at those who can’t understand or don’t like their work as fools, as annoyances. At best, they should be tolerated, but according to these writers, the world’s better off without them.

Sounds a little sociopathic, doesn’t it? But I’m sure it’s a thought that every writer who’s dreamed of greatness has thought, especially during this vanity phase. And it’s a horrible thought if we let it take hold, because it make others look less than human. Subhuman. Inferior. Weak. And a writer writes stories for these people. Not for fame or for money (though I’m sure some writers do write for those very reasons, and if they have any talent, they are wasting it by writing that way), but for the people. We want to share our work with people, to let them enjoy our fantasies. Maybe they’ll like them, maybe they won’t. But we write for them.

And if we denigrate the common man, if we think our readers and the masses are fools compared to our geniuses, if we writers can’t empathize with the persons reading our work, then we can’t expect them to like our work. At some level, they’ll see the emotions we’re trying to portray through our work are false and that we don’t really feel them like others do and they’ll reject the story.

This came up yesterday in class. “If the writer can’t empathize with the readers, he can’t make a good piece of fiction.” That’s something like what my teacher said, and I think it’s true. The writers who let go of this egotistical, self-centered vanity, who don’t let it take hold of them, they’re the ones who end up published, who are in the bookstores or in the magazines or on the e-readers. The ones that don’t…well, if we could tell what they think when they think about themselves and then think about you and me, I think we could really learn to love to hate them.

Of course, you can be a little vain about your first published work or something that’s gotten some success. But for God’s sake, don’t go around thinking you’re all that and a bag of chips until you’ve sold a million copies of your novel, and even then, resist those thoughts! Not even the prettiest gold digger will want to be near you if you make it obvious that you are only interested in yourself and she’s just another planet revolving around your light. There’s a reason pride’s one of the 7 Deadly Sins.

Well, that’s all for now. If I don’t post anything tomorrow, have a good weekend.