Published by Associate Editor on February 2, 2014. This item is listed in Helpful Articles

Break the Block

By Kellee Kranendonk

Originally published February 2011 for Issue #9 of Silver Blade

Kellee Kranendonk

God’s will. Fate. Karma. There are many words for it, but what it all boils down to is destiny or, our futures. Our futures may or may not be already written, but either way, we don’t know what’s in store for us. We have to take it one day at a time, wake up in the morning and get out of bed to find out what each day is going to bring for us.

Writing is often like that. We like to think we’re in control of our characters and their futures; that we know where the story is going, but that’s not always true. We can outline and plan every detail in our heads, but outlining and thoughts are not stone. They can change. Characters misbehave or run in the opposite direction that we want them to. Sometimes we know there’s a story we want to tell (an idea forms) but our characters refuse to talk to us (can’t expand on idea). This is often referred to as “getting stuck”, “writer’s block” or being “stalled”.

One way to break that block is to just write, or type (whichever is your preferred MO) anything. Often an idea will only form so far in your head but simply getting it down on paper or computer gets the creative juices flowing. At this point, it doesn’t matter what you write, as long as you’re writing. Edits and revisions come later. Sometimes just writing what you know in point form works:

• character A = Alien
• character B = Human
• A & B meet
• A & B fall in love/are repulsed by each other/want to dissect one another

Don’t know anything more? It’s time to start asking questions. A wants to dissect B. B refuses. Obviously. Or maybe not. Who knows what kind of twisted characters you have in your story. How does B stop A or why does B want this to happen? How does A react? What is the purpose for this dissection?

This obviously could make for an interesting, out-of-the box story. But what kinds of questions do you ask for more mainstream stories? The kind that require answers of course. If you want to know an unknown, just ask yourself. You might be surprised at the answer.

Why are A & B in love? Not just because that’s how they feel. Something has made them feel this way. What? Why are they attracted to one another? This could depend on your genre. Maybe A is an octopus-like alien and B has an arm fetish. Maybe A looks like Paul Walker/Vin Diesel in The Fast and The Furious and B has a blond/bald fetish.

So, keep asking questions. Your answers will lead to more questions, and hopefully more answers, and before you know it, you’ll have a completed story.

What other things can you do? There are probably as many tricks as there are writers. Go for a walk, listen to music, watch TV or read a book. For me those
are distractions, unless I’m reading a fantasy novel in which case I’m totally inspired. So, how do I break the block and get writing done? I use the old “What if” trick, but with a bit of a twist.

Many writers are comfortable with pen and paper, but I work on a computer
using the Corel WordPerfect program. This method of breaking the block will
only work for those who work on computers, unless you don’t mind writing with coloured pencils or magic markers.

First open a new screen. Next, type up the last thing that happened in your story. If you know where you want the story to go, type up the possible ways of getting there. If you’re not sure, simply type up possible plot lines. As you type each one out, it will probably lead to another possibility. The best thing about this is that by the time you get to the end, you haven’t forgotten any of the paths. It’s there in front of you in black and white. Or – and here’s the best part – you can change your font colour and work in your favourite one. This isn’t going to be sent to an editor, so it’s okay to work in a rainbow of hues. You can even write each different path in a different colour or change fonts, if that helps. Have fun with it.

This colour technique can be used for other things
as well. If you get to a point in your story and you realize that you need to
add something in a previous paragraph or chapter, but you’re on a roll and
don’t want to break it by going back to add it, just add a few lines about what
needs to be added or changed. Make it stand out in red or blue or whatever colour you wish. I use this all the time and often have a
rainbow manuscript.

Another thing you can do is try making a list of possibilities. Aim for
twenty or more. Your first few ideas might be the usual list of suspects, but
keep thinking. The more things you write down, the more unique they’ll become.
You may be able to blend certain ideas, but remember unique doesn’t mean
illogical. Your cow can’t bark and your goat can’t meow, unless you’re in an
alternate universe. In that case, this path becomes perfectly logical.

Finally, when you’re editing and revising, make those revisions in colour. This will help you see where your story needs the
most work. Plus, it makes new scenes or changes easy to find. If you belong to
a writer’s critique group and have the story critiqued, or workshopped,
you can place comments for specific scenes within the scene. It’ll stand out in
purple, green or (insert favourite colour). But don’t forget to make sure your final copy is
in black and white so it looks professional, and if you’ve used a fancy font, remember
that editors prefer a common, easy-to-read font.***

Here are a few more ideas that might work.

Reading – I like to read books in the genre that I’m
writing in, which is usually fantasy or YA, because my writing tends to favour whatever I’ve been reading about. Others find that reading books about writing help. Anything will do. Even if it’s a shampoo
bottle. Sometimes all it takes is a word or phrase to ignite that spark.

Activity – Doing something outside often relaxes you enough
to get the creative juices flowing. Work in your garden, walk the dog, the cat,
or yourself. Go swimming, sledding or skiing. Chances are you’ll see something
or someone that gives you an idea. It doesn’t have to be outside. Try baking or
cleaning out your clothes closet. Ideas, like items you lost months ago, often
pop up when you least expect it.

Non-activity – Some people get inspired in the shower. This
is one place you can be alone with your thoughts. You can hear what your
characters are telling you. Sometimes goofing off helps. You know those silly
computer games that often come already installed? Try those. These games often
require little or no thinking so you become an automaton simply going through
the motions and, because your (feel free to read that as “my” or
“Kellee’s”) brain gets bored, it starts to wander, imagine and ideas start moving in. Try watching a movie: an old favourite or one you’ve never seen before. There could be ideas there.

So, rather than just sitting in front of your computer, trying to force your
ideas to come (readers will know if a scene is forced) just relax and do
something else. Figure out what triggers your imagination, what gets a response
from your characters, then do it.

*** Generally Times New Roman or Courier New in a 12-point. Arial works
as well. Some editors receive it in their own preferred font so it won’t matter
anyway.

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Published by Associate Editor on June 13, 2013. This item is listed in Helpful Articles

Don’ts of Writing

Kellee Kranendonk

by Kellee Kranendonk

Originally published February 2013 by Silver Blade Magazine

Seven don’ts for submitting:

– Don’t assume that just because you’ve been published your work is perfect.

I had one submission that had a typo in the two lines of a cover letter. The story sub started okay, but the further I read, the more typos I found which put me off the story. This was a published author who should have known to check the work before submitting. One or two honest typos are okay. Your editor will know, and it’s not her job to fix them. “Most importantly of all, if you think what you wrote is perfect, look again.  We are all still learning, always.  Don’t get comfortable.” – Anthony J. Rapino, author of ‘Soundtrack to the End of the World”, and “Welcome to Moon Hill”.

http://www.anthonyjrapino.com/fiction-in-print/soundtrack-to-the-end-of-the-world/
http://www.anthonyjrapino.com/fiction-in-print/welcome-to-moon-hill/

– Don’t contact the editor after a rejection.

You’ve probably heard this before. Whether you get a form letter or  a personal rejection don’t do it, even if you disagree with the editor’s reason for rejection (if one was provided). She probably doesn’t have anything to say that you want to hear, and she doesn’t have time to debate the issue with you.

* I’ve had authors contact me after a rejection, asking if they could resubmit if they revised the story (with regards to editor’s comments). I’m agreeable to that. The worst an editor can say is no, and you’ve already been rejected. However, many magazine guidelines ask specifically that you don’t submit a revised story, or email them with such a request. Please DO follow that advice.

– Don’t submit without reading the guidelines.

Sometimes, even after you read a magazine’s guidelines, you still feel like you’re taking an educated guess when you send one of your stories. But if you’re submitting a children’s story to a children’s magazine, you’re already a step ahead. Your story simply may not be the editor’s cup of tea. However, if you’re sending a romance to a horror magazine you’re showing your lack of respect. Please don’t.

– Don’t write to the wrong editor.

If you’re going to use the editor’s name, make sure you use the correct name. If you’ve checked the magazine’s site, facebook page, masthead (if it comes in hard copy) and/or anywhere else the magazine and it’s contributors are listed, and you still can’t find an editor’s name, or you’re still not sure, simply addressing to “Editor” is acceptable.

– Don’t expect an immediate response.

Sometimes an editor can respond within days or even hours. Most can’t. Please be patient.

– Don’t appear to be an amateur even if you are.

You don’t need to explain if you’ve never been published before. It’s okay if you haven’t, unless the magazine requires you to be. In that case, you shouldn’t even be submitting to them. You don’t need to list everything you’ve ever done related to writing. If you’re an adult, the creative writing class you took in grade 9 doesn’t matter. If, however, you’re a grade 9 student, that class could be relevant. You don’t need a copyright mark. The moment you set your work on paper, the copyright is yours. Editors know this.

– Don’t confuse multiple submissions with simultaneous submissions.

Multiple submissions are several stories and/or poems sent to a single magazine at once. Most don’t want this. Be sure to read the guidelines to see if it’s acceptable for the magazine you’re submitting to. Simultaneous submissions are a single story sent to several magazines at the same time. Many magazines don’t want these, but there are some who will accept them. If the guidelines don’t state one way or the other for either, don’t assume. If there’s no contacting email the sensible thing to do is sent one story to one magazine. Please note that multiple submissions DO NOT mean you can neve send another story to the same magazine. Just not at the same time.

Seven don’ts for your story

– Don’t write about body parts.

If you’re writing a zombie story, body parts are fine. They may also be fine in fantasy and sci-fi as long as they have a purpose. However the body parts I’m talking about here are those ones that move about all on their own. (Again, this may be fine in fantasy if magic is being used). Eyes can’t dart, roam or move otherwise anywhere. Feet and hands don’t lift themselves. Write about characters and their movements, not their animated body parts.

– Don’t intrude on your own story.

Arthur heard a squeak from the other room. He crept up the stairs, the hair on his neck standing stiff. Did I tell you Arthur was a dog? He’s my little black dog that hated mice, and he thought that squeaking might be a mouse. Snuffing, he topped the stairs and peered into the room. All of the intensity was lost when the author intruded to tell the reader that Arthur was a dog. Keep the intensity by showing that Arthur is a dog: Arthur heard a squeak from the other room. He crept up the stairs, the hair on his neck standing stiff. His ears pricked forward, he snuffled the floor as he topped the stairs and peered into the room. In this version, Arthur is shown to be a dog (or an alien) since it’s not likely a human would have ears pricked forward, or be snuffling the floor.

– Don’t write the reaction before the action.

Crying, Janice watched the sad movie. It sounds like she was crying before she started watching. Why? What made her cry. Better to write: Janice watched the sad movie and cried. This way we understand that the crying is her reaction and not the other way around. Sometimes it works, though, because people are multi-taskers.  Just be sure it does work in the order you have it. Crying, Janice reached for another handful of popcorn. (This sentence is, of course, assuming the reader already knows Janice is watching a sad movie).

– Don’t overuse names, especially in conversation.

People don’t constantly call one another by name, unless it’s a telemarketer. (I think they’re taught to use a person’s name over and over because it compliments them). How many times have you had a conversation like this with your best friend: Hello, Helen. How are you, Helen? Are you coming over, Helen? You also don’t need to use your character’s name every time. Don’t be afraid to use he/she, him/her, hers/his. Also, people identify one another by voice. You can do this in your story too, by giving your character his or her own distinctive voice and/or quirk.

– Don’t do the impossible.

Nellie typed up her resumé and drove to the office to drop it off. Apparently Nellie is very talented, being able to type and drive at the same time. “And” means simultaneously. I can walk and chew gum. I can listen and breathe. I can’t type and drive. I’m pretty sure Nellie can’t either. What she did do was this: Nellie typed up her resumé, then drove to the office to drop it off.

– Don’t overuse ellipsis.

This doesn’t mean not to use them several times in one story (although you shouldn’t do that either). What this means is not to do this: Elinor grabbed her purse then . . . . . . . . . . . .  You only need 3 dots, 4 if it’s the end of a sentence.

– Don’t overuse the same phrase or word.

Find different ways to describe things. Don’t have several characters repeating the same information. Readers will remember. Having a catch-phrase for a character is acceptable, but still don’t use it every time the character talks.

Whether you’re a seasoned writer or a newbie, these “don’ts” can be valuable. The difference is, once you’re a seasoned writer, these should already be second-nature.

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Published by Associate Editor on June 13, 2013. This item is listed in Introductions, Issue 18, Main Features, Poetry

Introduction to Silver Blade Poetry Issue 18

Welcome to Issue 18. Though there is no Featured Poet in this issue, we still bring a full complement of speculative poems written by six excellent poets, as well as by your poetry editor. We are proud to publish so many established voices in this issue (and we often publish new and emergent ones alongside them). As usual, the poems are ordered according to content and mood, rather than by contributor names.

The opening poem, “The Music of the Stars” by Bruce Boston, is the winner in the 2013 Maryland Regional Science Fiction and Fantasy Convention (see Balticon 47, http://www.balticon.org/) poetry contest. It is a pensive psalm-like homage to the stars. The wonderful chant of that poem sets us up for another invocation, of sorts. “A Prayer on Ganymede” by John Grey, is layered with textures of irony and satire.

There are many ways in which mankind can examine himself. In “Eye for an Eye,” Laura Madeline Wiseman does it through the eyes of Martians. Her pieces are often humorous, but in this case, it is sobering and poignant. (Recently accepted for publication, both of Wiseman’s Martian poems will be available in her chapbook, Stranger Still, and in her full-length book American Galactic.)

Astronomy-related poetry is much more than poetic descriptions of heavenly objects, or the simple wonderment of “Who’s out there?” and of imagined encounters; nor are the sun, the moon, the planets and the stars, also, mere backdrops or clichéd mood settings, though all of these things are worth exploring. Rather, more often in a successful literary poem, astronomy might provide metaphors for the human condition, as we might see in Wiseman’s poem and others, including Dawnell Harrison’s poem, “A Wintry Fever.” It is short, but piercing.

Though we had a wonderful transitioning piece, the contributor could not be contacted, so I will act as the bridge. “Alien Ants Invade the Waffle House” by John C. Mannone, has a little humor as the title might suggest, but there is a serious subtext in this narrative flash poem.

The final two poems are imbued with fantastical elements accented with spiritual tones. “The Elixir” by Sandy Hiortdahl, is a narrative poem in a fine storytelling tradition. (Incidentally, her doctoral dissertation was on Gardner’s Grendel as a reinvention of Beowulf; she even learned Anglo Saxon so she could do it right). And “Milk Witch” by John Zaharick, another narrative poem, which is infused with unusual images, surprises, and literary depth, closes the selection.

Please enjoy this collection of poems (that straddle many aspects of literary speculative poetry), the complementing images, and mp3 voice recordings (when available).

Sincerely,
John C. Mannone
Poetry Editor

The Line-up

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Published by Associate Editor on June 13, 2013. This item is listed in Issue 18, Poetry

The Music of the Stars

The music of the stars is
so very faint it is drowned
by the sounds of the city,

the steady drone of traffic,
the whine of sirens wailing
through day and night,

the clamor of crowds and
the hubbub of the media.
The music of the stars is

so very faint it is lost
in the static of the rain,
the timbres of the wind

batting against the trees,
in the rhythm of waves
consuming the shore.

The music of the stars is
so very faint, yet there
remain those of a certain

mind and heart who listen
hard enough to hear it,
never completely sure

what kind of music it is,
yet convinced it is the
one they must dance to.

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Published by Associate Editor on June 13, 2013. This item is listed in Issue 18, Poetry

A Prayer on Ganymede

 

Save my crew members:
first mate, engineer,
science officer, navigator,
even the lousy cook.
Save them from the red wind
and the insidious foliage
with its thorns like claws.
Save them from the horned beast
and the devil with seven eyes
and the sky that rains fire.
Save them from cracks
in their helmets,
rips in their suits,
and spears in their guts.
Save the rookies
who’ve never before been
on a planet where
they couldn’t breathe the air.
Save the veterans
of many a perilous journey
into these forbidding netherworlds.
And, if you’ve time,
even save me,
though I’ve done enough
for ten lives,
been in more hazardous positions
than I’ve had hot Cerulean women.
And, when you’re done
bailing out my ragtag troop,
come with us,
save yourself.
This place can then go back
to being godforsaken.
 

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Published by Associate Editor on June 13, 2013. This item is listed in Issue 18, Poetry

Eye for an Eye

 

Sheldon Art Museum, Lincoln, Nebraska

The sculpture of a head on the stairs
creeps out the Martians. They can’t tell

its gender. One whispers, The slashes
at crown and throat suggest maleness.

The furrowed brow, the x-ed out eyes,
the lack of body makes them worry.

They ask, What crime is punishable by head-loss?
Where’s the axe? The hooded man in black?

They’re sure the body will reveal something—
wrists bound by rope or a tongue sliced out

to be set aside and buried elsewhere.
One knocks on the head. The art peals—

an empty hollow sound, a void of dead air.
Maybe, one Martian says, it was bad thoughts.
 

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Published by Associate Editor on June 13, 2013. This item is listed in Issue 18, Poetry

A Wintry Fever

 

I feel the chill of winter
In the white marrow of my bones –

A wintry fever.
The cold winds steer through ice

Like an ax to wood.
I lay on the bed,

My pallor as bleached as death –
No respite from the long, wide

Cold of the night.
Love’s run dry but the moon
Cradles me like a great white Madonna.
 

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Published by Associate Editor on June 13, 2013. This item is listed in Issue 18, Poetry

Alien Ants Invade the Waffle House

 

They walk upright, seven feet tall, not counting the antennae,
and pack a laser weapon fused to their purple shell-skin.
They seem to be protected with a force field that our bullets
cannot penetrate. Many major cities have fallen.
The voice on the radio also says they are coming our way.

It’s around midnight, there are eight of us in the diner. I say to them,

This aint no Armageddon; there is no savior here
but for ourselves. We can run and get gunned down
or we can die lying on the floor behind those doors
or under these stools, quivering in our nightmares.
Or we can die standing for our freedom.

It’s just another monster. We make our stand here.

I’ll fetch the stuff we’ll need from the pick-up truck—
malathion, that or-gan-o-phos-phate–in-sec-ti-cide.
It says right chere on the label that it mucks up
their nervous system. Folks, let’s make ‘em nervous.

Frank, get all the bags of grits stored in the back.
Sally, you’re a single mom experienced with deadbeat
bugs, and sweet talk. When they come through that door,
don’t nobody go screaming. Let them take us hostage
lest they’d be forced to kill us. Let’s not do that.

Sally nods as she draws her last breath
from a menthol cigarette, flicks the finished butt,
and grinds the nicotine-rich nub into the asphalt.
I stare at her shoes arcing the ground, pressing.
I remember a few days ago stomping out a fire
ant hive, grinding their formic acid carcasses
into Texas dirt, the sweet alkaline dirt.

We feel the high-pitched static in the air
as the giant ants approach the diner. We sit still
as they march inside. Sally, behind the counter, extends
the trays full of sugar and powdered grits for a swell
meal laced with malathion, just to make sure.
Ants can’t smell malathion.

She smiles her hospitality smile at the leader,
says, Here’s a little extra sugar just for you.
Of course, they can’t understand a word, but like
the sugar, their mandibles raking granules into
their crablike faces. Still smiling, she mumbles
in her almost forgotten Harlem accent, You sho’ is ugly!
But no mo’ uglier than that throw-up face of fear.

Outside, the Waffle House sign flickers its yellow
into the tall night, and its light buzzes in the still air.
Moths always flitter to the light.
And other insects, too.
 

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Published by Associate Editor on June 13, 2013. This item is listed in Issue 18, Poetry

The Elixir

 

The boy moves fast, young pup,
to whom play and war are same:
too soon he’ll know.
The woman beside him is no kin,
save the blood connection to this rock,
to this tribe of warriors and herdsmen,
males and females of both, who have
huddled beside the rock since before
they knew how to speak.
He has been chosen by the elders
to face the Grendel-heir, to “be”
the bear-boy triumphant, or—
the bloodied sacrifice to whom
poems and songs, perhaps whole
religions (depending on the death),
will weave memory fables.
The woman breathes deeply, for there’s
springtime in the honey-gladdened air,
the mossy smell of thunderstorms to send
winter away, to bring warmth to the rock,
whether this boy sees those days or not.
The vial in her pocket contains a liquid of life,
hawthorn berries, salamander liver, iron filings
from the forge of his people, long-hoarded
hair strands from the dead Queen, all minced
and prayed upon during the new moon,
beside the den of wolf pups, as is written.
Only the woman and her sisters know:
without it, the boy likely dies, though
with it, all the stars in heaven like his chances.
In death, he’d be the curly-haired boy-man
whose future was traded for their own (as
the elders well-know), but if he lives and slays
the Grendel, many time paths shift, the world
breathes a new destiny: the rock becomes new.
“Come,” she says, and draws it out.
 

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Published by Associate Editor on June 13, 2013. This item is listed in Issue 18, Poetry

Milk Witch

 

When hearth light licks
the black milk, the liquid
turns to sky–stars
in a shallow bowl,
showing weather, blight,
cities old or unborn.
To see ahead, I sense
the patterns underlying lives.

These secret furrows have driven
me to the edge of the woods
as have the farmers
who shun, and yet keep me
close, wanting what I know,
but afraid of their own thirst.
They avert their eyes when I barter,
but slink to my door for visions.

Brave boys with iron knives
or elders concerned about the crop,
all cringe at the bleating
from the stable. The poag
are the source of their fortunes,
and yet they treat my animals
like monsters. But all creatures
can be crafted to serve a purpose,
raised for wool, strength,
or the most potent milk.

I am sent to a field,
guarded by stones and chalk.
The village knows mint or mushroom
can distort the senses,
and fears any pasture grazed
by my poag will sour their herds.
But it is only milk
that lifts the veils.

And as animals are bred,
men believe their fates
are fashioned by gods,
by the clay people on their altars.
They stand in my house,
asking of love, conquest, omens.
Each cares only for what befalls
him and his own. I see more:
the shapes of their deities,
the cultivators of history.

When I was young, Father took
a paper pot from the loft
and tossed it in the fire.
It burst, spilling shiny wings.
I taste the milk and the air
splits like that nest.
The world is built
on a secret foundation,
crawling with wasps.
 

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