Category: Writing

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VICIOUS CIRCLE – CHAPTER TWO

Walter Donlan, senior accountant for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, sat with two of the strangest FBI agents he had ever met. If they hadn’t shown him their badges and ID cards, he would have guessed they were solicitors for an international cosmetic company.

The agent in charge, Monty Halloran, was the head of a new task force on organized crime, although the paperwork he had showed Walter was vague in describing their directives. He was tall enough to have to stoop when he came through the door. Walter judged him to be about 6’6”.

Halloran’s head was shaved, and around his neck, he wore a silver chain with a monocle, which he brought to his eye when scrutinizing Walter’s framed certificates and pictures on the wall. Underneath his right eye was a deep red scar that made his eye bulge and his top lip sneer.

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New Fiction (and Commentary)

For those of you clamoring for new fiction from me (all five of you), here’s the first chapter of an unpublished novel. Every few weeks, I’ll post another chapter along with my author commentary. I hope you like it. And if you don’t…well… just keep scrolling.

VICIOUS CIRCLE

by Slade Grayson

Chapter One

A year ago:

In a Northern New Jersey strip mall, Charlie Grace sat at the brass-railed bar of Kelsey’s Food and Sprits and sipped his drink—a mixture of Kahlua and cream. It tasted like chocolate milk but had a decidedly stronger kick. The cream gave his stomach a thick coating to buffer the alcohol, which was good because Charlie had been having stomach problems, probably the start of an ulcer, although he refused to admit it. He resolved to lay off Mexican food for a while and maybe chew some Tums. He thought thirty-six was too young for a man to have to worry about his diet, but he didn’t relish the thought of going to a doctor either. What if it wasn’t an ulcer? Thoughts of stomach cancer nagged at him and kept him awake at night. Charlie also thought thirty-six was too young to have to worry about ulcers and cancer.

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HOW TO GET REVIEWS OF YOUR BOOKS!

But not, like, a bazillion. Because let’s be honest, if I knew that, I’d be too busy filling a private pool with dollar bills and diving in. And if you happen to already be one of those lucky authors who has thousands of reviews on Amazon and Goodreads, A – this post is not for you and B – please tell me your secrets, including which dark lord you made a sacrifice to and what said sacrifice was. I’d love to know. For research purposes.

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Anatomy of an Ending

There is a popular sentiment that stories, like life, are about the journey, not the ending. I think good fiction has to differentiate itself from life, so stories are about the journey and the ending.

Maybe I’m hopelessly morbid, but I think about death all the time. I know I’m not the only one, but how I’m going to check out is constantly on my mind. It doesn’t frighten me or stop me from living, but like a good story, I do want to know how it all ends. Like reading a good story, though, I’m not eager to get there. It’s a paradox. I don’t want it to end.

You can stop psychoanalyzing me now.

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Interview With Author Timothy Johnson

1. What made you want to be a writer?

It was probably a mixture of narcissism, masochism, and the right teacher in the right class telling me I had potential in something when I felt I had potential in nothing but had to decide what I was going to do for the rest of my life. 

I took a creative writing class in college when I didn’t have a major, and when I started writing, I thought I was brilliant. At the time, I had been writing songs, so it seemed natural that I’d become a poet (because that’s a practical decision in this world). Then I was in a room with friends who literally laughed at my work, and I realized I wasn’t good.

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Let the Hate Flow Through You…

**DISCLAIMER: There will be no more Star Wars references going forward**

There is a place in the world for the bad…

So it was about ten years ago. Maybe more. Wait, how old are my kids? Good lord, I’m old.

Okay, it was more than ten years ago, but not quite twenty, and I was younger and energetic and doing a lot of theater. Primarily an actor, I also did lighting and directing and dance. Writing had been limited to short plays for children, so no experience with real, full-on adult drama. Still, I knew what I loved about theater; the art, the precision, the work ethic. Creating great product was more important than making dollars. I was passionate, and part of being passionate is working on thoughtful, interesting, insightful works which are seen by a handful of people, yet touch each of them deeply.

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On Jonathan Franzen’s Rules for Novelists

In November, Lithub republished a list of ten rules for novelists by Jonathan Franzen that had originally appeared in the Guardian in 2010. It apparently raised a stink on the Internet. Reading the list now, I see why it was divisive. Some of his rules are obvious. Some are preposterous or pretentious. Overall, it’s just not a helpful list.

All of this is in my humble opinion, of course (this is my blog after all). Franzen has accomplished far more in his writing career than I probably ever will, but I see reflections of some broader issues in the literary community here that I feel the need to comment on.

To be clear, this isn’t really about Franzen’s list. This is about the impetus of some of his ideas. And admittedly, it probably reveals more about my own philosophies than Franzen’s, so take it for what it’s worth

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Confidence in Writing

Last week, a young writer asked if I had any insecurities about my writing. My initial response was, yes, of course I have insecurities. I wouldn’t be a writer if I wasn’t on some level insecure about my writing (and in general about everything for always and forever).

However, after some retrospection, I realized I’m in a much better place than I was when I started.

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Why I Hired Sensitivity Readers

Because it’s 2019.

Because I’m a white guy living in the U.S. who is purposefully writing characters who are anything other than white, and I don’t want them to be stereotypes.

Because just making them not stereotypes isn’t enough.

Because I haven’t lived as a POC and there will be things I get wrong.

Because I haven’t lived as a woman and there will be things I get wrong.

Because part of being a writer… no… part of being aware… no… part of being a decent human being is letting go of your ego.

Because if I want diversity in my books, and diversity in my readership, I need to have diversity in the creative process.

Because Google Translate doesn’t really speak Spanish.

Because I have unconscious biases. As much as it hurts to admit and as scary as it is to face, it’s true.

Because POC deserve respect. Part of that is me putting in the time and energy and cost of getting things right, when creating something to (hopefully) represent them.

Because women deserve respect. Part of that is me putting in the time and the energy and the cost of getting things right, when creating something to (hopefully) represent them.

Because sensitivity readers aren’t hard to find. Seriously. Go to Twitter, type it in as a hashtag. Easy. No more excuses.

Because they were professional and polite and more than one showed appreciation that I was trying to be better. They didn’t have to do it, and I didn’t expect it from them. Still, it warmed my heart.

Because they made my book so much better.

Because I learned things about myself. Some of them made me sad. But sadness is good. Sadness is a tiny wound, and now I can heal it.

Because I learned things about others. Some of them were beautiful. Now, I can carry them with me and go back to them and smile.

Because words matter, and I have a duty to use mine for something good.

Because there’s no good reason not to.

Because it’s time for me to be better.