Posts Tagged ‘writing’

Well, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything about my serial killer novel Snake, but I’m happy to announce I finally got around to doing something I’ve been meaning to do for a while now: add in the Russian.

For those of you who weren’t around during the six months from June-December 2012, Snake follows the Snake, a serial killer that goes after members of a Mafia family for reasons mentioned only in the novel (and not on this blog; that’d give away the whole darn plot). The Snake also speaks Russian, a language I have no heads or tails for, comrades. So I asked a friend of mine I know through OSU’s organization for Jewish students, OSU Hillel, to help me because he’s a native Russian speaker.

Yesterday, my friend sent me some translations and transliterations of the English phrases I sent him, showing me what the phrases I’d written in English looked like in Russian with English characters. I inserted them into the story, and now I don’t have to do anything till I actually start the second draft of Snake next month. I’ll probably add some more Russian in then, but until then, I don’t think I’ll bother my friend.

In hte meantime, I have to go out for a few minutes and take a photo that I’ll use and modify to create the cover for my upcoming collection of short stories, The Quiet Game: Five Tales To Chill Your Bones. Sure it’s cold and it’s late, but this photo needs to be taken at night, I only just got done with everything else, and I have an hour until SNL, so I’m good. Time to take some photos.

Do svidanya until I write next. Have a good night.

Setting Is Character Too

Posted: February 13, 2013 in Reflections, Writing
Tags: ,

I’ve been watching the first season of American Horror Story on my computer lately, half because I’ve heard so much about it and I’m intrigued, but also because I figure that it’s about time I watch some successful TV horror that I’m missing out on. Watching it, I realize something important: the house, which is the main setting of the show, is a character in itself. The setting is its own character.

I’m only three episodes in, but I’m learning that hthe house has so many layers and so much depth. In every episode we see some new aspect of it, some new piece of its history. We learn that t has its quirks, its needs and wants, and its effects on those who encounter it. And I think ultimately, it is the antagonist of the story rather than the home of the antagonist. The house has some designs for the family living there, and while I’m not sure what those designs are, I’m sure they’re sinister in nature.

(And if I’m right, don’t tell me; I want to be surprised).

This puts me in mind of other stories where buildings and settings that have been characters as well. Obviously, there’s The Shining by Stephen King: the Overlook Hotel was definitely sentient and not just inhabited by spirits. It lived, and it allowed souls to become twisted and live within it. Also, there’s the house in When A Stranger Calls, because it figures into the plot just as much as the two characters. We see the house, so airy and space-filled, and yet we feel trapped within it, wondering what was behind every corner. When we reach the climax of the story, we fear not only the killer, but we fear the house and what is hiding in its darkest corners.

This makes me wonder how I may apply this to my work. I know there’s a few stories where I could make the setting a character,, even though I have yet to write any of those stories. But how to make those settings come to life, to be characters? I don’t know. At least not yet. I hope to find out though, and perhaps I will, especially if I keep watching AHS. If I can…then it’ll just be conquering another skill I’ll need on the road to be an author.

It’s like Hotel California, but worse.

Do you ever use setting as a character? How do you do it?

I got feedback for one of my short stories, “Enigma”, the one about the autistic boy. My bera-reader, a woman who’s worked with people with disabilities for years, told me she really enjoyed the story, especially since certain parts scared her and she couldn’t figure out what would happen next or whether the wolf spirit in the story was a hallucination or an actual spirit. I don’t give any hints on that subject, though I usually tend towards supernatural.

My beta-reader also didn’t care for the name change I gave “Engima”, but I feel that the new title works more for the rewrite I gave this story. That being said, the new title is “In The Lady Ogre’s Den”, based on something the main character notices while in the hospital. I think the title’s a good one, and I hope to keep it.

I’ll probably edit this story one more time, but after that I’ll move it to the folder on my flash drive where I keep the finished short stories for The Quiet Game. I’m very excited; after this story, I’ll have only two more stories to hear back from beta-readers about, and then I’ll be ready to put The Quiet Game out. Let’s hope I hear back soon.

Oh, as for that promotional short story I mentioned the other day, I still have to find time to send it to the Copyright Office, but I will as soon as I’m done with my homework. Just bear with me, okay? I’ll have it out soon.

While watching the State of the Union address (love you, Mr. President!), I worked on my latest short story, “Three Life-Saving Phone Calls”, a short story about a teenager trying to commit an elaborate suicide. The idea for the story came to me in one of my creative writing classes (apparently lots of people get great ideas for stories while around my teacher, or so I hear), and it was based on a really dark period of my life, when I actually did want to commit suicide when I thought that nobody loved me and I was all alone.

The story’s a little longer than five-thousand words, but I plan to see if I can slim it down a little during the editing stage. I also want to see if I can get this short story to win OSU’s English Department’s creative writing award for short stories. I won’t get that big a prize–only $250–but it’d be something to put on my resume and it’d be a prestigious award to have. Since the due date for submissions is in 10 days though, I need to edit quickly…after I edit my second short story for class.

Let’s hope I can handle it all and do well!

I’ll let you know how well things go. Wish me luck and hope for the best, okay? Thanks!

As many of you know, the Chinese New Year was celebrated recently, ushering in the Year of the Snake. As many of you also know, I recently wrote and completed a thriller novel called Snake, which is about a serial killer hunting mafioso. Since Snake will probably be published sometime before this time next year (hopefully), I thought it was a pretty strange but otherwise wonderful coincidence. Of course, the serial killer whom the novel is named after, the Snake, was probably born in the Year of the Rooster like myself, but still it’s a pretty cool coincidence.

And since it’s the Year of the Snake, I thought I’d give you a small sample of Snake, something to let you get a sense of one of my best written works to date (at least in my opinion). It’s from the first chapter, when one of the Snake’s first victims makes contact with the Snake over the phone. It’s creepy and I love it. Enjoy:

            Paul felt a buzz in his pocket and looked down. Through the fabric in his pants Paul could see the light from his phone shining through. Paul reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and dove into a little alcove where he could take the call in peace. Without checking the number he pressed the talk button and brought the phone to his ear.

            “Hello?” said Paul; on the other end all he could hear was a deep breathing. Paul raised his eyebrows suspiciously. “Who is this?” He checked the caller ID, and saw only UNKNOWN NUMBER.

            Suddenly the person at the other end of the phone spoke. “Men in your line of business have no right to be in a church, Mr. Sanonia.”

            Paul stared at the phone, surprised. Glancing quickly around the church, he saw only three people, and none of them were on their phones. How did this person know where he was and how did he get his number? He looked back at the phone and spoke into the mouthpiece. “Who the fuck is this?”

            The man on the other end laughed, a rich, hearty laugh that for some reason chilled Paul’s skin. “When your cousin James Sanonia died, he was shot in the head.” said the man, his voice deep and affected with a heavy Russian accent. “Then several bones were broken all over his body. He was then taken from wherever he was killed and thrown in the Hudson. Dockworkers saw his body floating and pulled him up out of the water. By the time they got him though, there was nothing to identify your cousin’s murderer. Except for one interesting detail, that is.”

            Paul froze, his heart beating loudly in his chest. Who was this guy? How did he know all that? “And what was that detail?” he asked through gritted teeth.

            The man spoke, and Paul froze. “You killed my cousin.” he hissed angrily. “You killed Jamie.”

            “Horrible thing, wasn’t it?” said the Russian man. “I couldn’t get what I wanted out of your cousin. But I’m sure you’ll be much more helpful.”

            Paul was only half-listening; he was looking around the church, trying to find someone—anyone!—on a phone. One of the other worshippers, a teenage girl with a skirt too short for the cold February weather, walked out of the church while texting. Besides her, no one else seemed to have a phone.

            “Where the fuck are you, you crazy shit!” Paul whispered into the phone. “Come on out and face me like a man!”

            “But there is no fun in that.” replied the Russian man. “Besides, you’re so much more amusing to watch.”

            Paul stepped out of the alcove, looking around the church. “Watch?” he repeated.

            “Oh, didn’t I mention it?” asked the Russian man. “I’m right in the church with you.”

Last semester, I wrote how I continue to write about subjects I have no personal experience with, despite my creative writing class’s textbook’s insistence that I do so. It wasn’t that I thought anything from my own life wasn’t good enough for writing about, it’s just that I was more interested in writing about a demon causing a human to become a cannibal or a war between humans and werewolves than I was writing about my anxiety before a test or my sometimes stormy relationships with my sisters. When people like my dad would tell me to at least give it a shot, I would usually reply, “That’s too scary for literature.”

But lately–and I blame the workshops I’ve been taking for this–my writing has taken a more personal tone. Over break, I wrote “Enigma” (later renamed to “In The Lady Ogre’s Den”), which has an autistic child as the main character. I’ve worked with kids with autism before, and I’m even on the spectrum, though I’m very high-functioning. Later I wrote “Old Sid” for class (I’ll be turning that one in a week from Wednesday) and that story takes place on the Ohio State campus, where’ I’ve either been working, learning, or both for the past two years. And recently I’ve been working on a short story called “Three Life Saving Phone Calls”, which is based on some dark experiences in my life that for a time made me very depressed and even contemplated suicide. Sure, I’ve changed so much around that it’s now only very loosely based on my life, but if someone were to look closely, and if that someone knew a lot about me, they could see through the fictional veneer and spot what I’ve taken from my own life and put into the story.

Why the change? Like I said before, I think it might have something to do with the workshops I’ve been taking. The emphasis on literary fiction as opposed to genre fiction requires me to be more personal than I have been, and a lot of what those workshops have been teaching me I’ve assimilated into my writing. I guess finding ways to make my own life and experiences interesting is part of what I’ve taken away from these classes. I’m not exactly sure if it’s the best thing for my writing–after all, I’m still devoted to genre fiction, and I prefer to use imagination rather than confront an actual serial killer–but while I’m stuck with this new appreciation for things in my life and using them in my writing, I might as well take advantage of it to the fullest.

And besides, who knows? “Three Life Saving Phone Calls” seems to be just literary enough that I could submit it to a major literary journal, one that pays its contributors. That’s the hope, at least.

What about you? Do you use your own life in your writing, or is your work so strange that your life couldn’t find a place in your work?

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?