I'm Dreaming of Pittsburgh

I've been thinking of Pittsburgh cause my novel takes place there. My favorite year was 1967.  Everyday we walked from our apartment on North Nagley Ave. to the Highland Park about a mile away to spend the day in the Children's zoo.

My memories  beyond that  idyllic summer are bits and pieces of confetti but mostly what I recall is the feeling of childhood innocence. The humid summers playing with friends and the thick layer of snow I walked through in winter. My whole existence was in walking distance of home: Roosevelt Elementary School, the drug store, the park. We kids wandered without fear of crime or our safety.

A few years later Mom and my younger siblings lived in the darker Oakland neighborhood where we would walk to Schenley Park, another refuge from the city, or a few blocks to Isley's for a Klondike bar.

The novel has me nostalgic for those sweet days. The city had a funky lived in feel like an old couch: the upholstery was smudged and reeking of smoke. It sagged in a few places but was comfortable and familiar.

When the steel industry collapsed, the city had to reinvent itself like a divorcee suddenly in need of a career. Pittsburgh became bright and livable again once the polluting grime was washed away and it discovered hi-tech greenery. The downtown buildings sparkle in the clean air, the neighborhoods are gentrified. 

All I remember is a seven year old kid walking happily to the zoo.

What Do You Like to Write?

Since the beginning of time  I have heard the advice "Write what you know"  and like most writers have tried to figure out how to translate that into something readable. 

Until today.

I came across a rough draft of a story I wrote after seeing the dismal Tim Burton movie of the old TV series  "Dark Shadows'".  While every remake of the series has been a rehash of the same material, mine had the characters wander into new territory. I looked at the material and had an epiphany.

Forget that old advice- fellow writers. Write what you like. That's where inspiration comes from because, let's face it, most of us know nothing. My life and experiences don't mean beans to me but my flights of fancy are much richer. I like science that's why I did well at it in school and still enthralled by new discoveries. I never liked politics so I wrote fantasy and sci-fi for years not political thrillers. 

I write what I like. I like wondering what would happen if I were plunked down in an alien world or what it's like to battle a dragon or, in my recent novel, what is it like to be a firefighter with superpowers. Some people lead interesting lives, that's why I read biographies. Some of us imagine interesting lives. that's what I write.

Likewise is the advice show don't tell. Excuse me? We have story tellers. " Tell me a story" is the classic request. You don't show a joke, you tell one. Writing a novel is like telling a joke.

A dragon walks into a bar ( the set up) and orders a boiler maker. The bartender gives him one and says " That will be ten bucks." The dragon pays ( main theme). The bartender says 

" We don't get many dragons in here."  ( the climax) The dragon replies, " At these prices I'm not surprised." ( the resolution).

There's showing but there's also telling, remember that kiddies.

Screw the rules and the traditional advice . Write what you like-- with passion. Make sure it's something you enjoy and others will enjoy it too because it's real and honest.

Um. . . Let me Deal with These 300 Other Things Before Writing.

This is why I haven't posted any writing for a while. Like many other writers, I have put it off with excuses. Anyone who says they have no trouble writing, that it just pours out is either a liar or should be shot out of professional jealousy.

Even the prolific Stephen King had trouble and became alcoholic. Most writers suffer from the fear their work is just no good. Other artists suffer this too but not to the degree of writers for some reason. We pour out our souls just as much as the actor, singer or slam poet but we tend to be more inhibited. Having acted I know that everything up to the moment you step on stage is an abstraction but once you are before an audience, there is no turning back.

The parallel to writing seems easy but it's closer to doing stand up comedy. The audience expects, no- demands you be funny and they will let you know immediately if you're not. But when you are writing, the only audience is the interior critic. The voice that levels scathing disbelief that you have any talent what so ever. It's just words on paper, what's the big deal? Why do I listen to it when I have no trouble expressing my thoughts out loud in front of people, in fact I revel in the image, but I'm reduced to a whimpering coward at the idea of putting them down in writing?

The interior critic is present at the silent, solitary work of writing and so it has your undivided attention. No glimpsed smile from a friend in a sea of faces to encourage you or the interplay with fellow thespians to distract you from it's attempt to sabotage your efforts oh no, It's just you and your ego. Normally the ego loves to be in charge but this time it always back away from the challenge as if stung. Why?

When I do a painting I'm sure someone will like it even if I'm doing it for my own pleasure. If I'm on stage I'm sure my performance will appeal to someone in the darkness sitting and watching. After all, it's not acting without an audience.

So why do I think my writing is any different? If a therapist knew how to get rid of such a self defeating block they would be filthy rich and people would be a lot happier.

Meanwhile I managed to avoid writing for another half an hour. Whew.

How Not to Be a Writer

I'm beginning to think all the books, college course, and seminars on how to be a writer are a sham. Like the latest diet telling you how to lose weight.

Telling someone " You can be a writer" is like telling someone " You can be a painter." but all the teaching will not make you a Hemingway or a Rembrandt. It's just the mechanics of a craft that can be passed on not the art. Knowing the mechanics will not necessarily unleash creativity. That must come from something undefinable within you. The place where dreams, visions, revelations come from. The muse must be called by means no one understands. Passion, imagination, the will to create are intangible and can not be taught.

Focusing on just the skills will not summon the creative muse, it will inhibit it. Cram the flights of fantasy, imagination and the divine insight into a box marked " How to" and see how quickly true invention gets buried under the weight of all those rules. The mechanics are fine for guidance and comprehension, think of them as "suggestions" but don't confuse them for the Real Thing.

"Fire Fly, Memoir of a Reluctant Superhero" Back Cover Blurb

Neil Archer is a regular, down-to-Earth fire fighter with unusual strengthand the ability to fly, working in Pittsburgh during the 80's. Hiding his 'special skills' is easy until a dramatic high rise fire reveals him to the world. Now he must deal with the interest of the media, the public and the government. Whom can he trust? His fellow firefighters, a fierce PR agent or a beutiful confidant who all try to define him.Whom must he avoid? The feds, an ambitious politician or a nosy reporter? When several rescues threaten to overwhelm him Archer has to come to grips with being a superhero.