Posted by jbeymer on Oct 19, 2010 in Uncategorized
This is my second contest. Yes, Rogue’s Curse is available for download at Lyrical Press and Amazon.com, but I still have more e-copies to give away. Rogue’s Curse takes place 2000 years after the Rapture, in the monarchial kingdom of Western Beatrice. Aside from soaring mortality rates and an abnormally high clovort population, it’s not a bad place to live. Opportunities abound. Here are a few:
1) The King’s Royal Harem — “Seeking females with unusual physical ailments to fit King Perlezod’s sexual appetites. Multiple nipples a plus! Inquire at the palace gates. Ask for Madam Vaginaberry.”
2) Capped Rock Island — “The mental facility on Capped Rock seeks qualified medical professionals to service its ever-growing population. Benefits include pension plan, hazard pay, and access to the best meds in the kingdom. Note: Applicants sail to the island at their own risk.”
Here’s how to enter the contest:
STEP ONE: Comment on this post by finishing the sentence: “If I was born 2000 years after the Rapture, I would…”
STEP TWO: “Follow” or “Like” me on at least one of these:
If you already do, then you’ve already completed this step.
That’s it! Easy, right?
On Tuesday morning, November 2nd, I’ll throw all your names into a blender with ice and strawberry powder, gulp it down, wait, and see what name pops out later that night. It should be a lovely experience. If you win, tell me your choice of eBook format and I’ll email it to you.
Thanks, and please spread the word!
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Posted by jbeymer on Oct 5, 2010 in Uncategorized
Where do the best characters come from? Sometimes they wander into Starbucks while you’re sitting in the corner, sucking down powdered bean and typing your first draft. They’re muse, plopped onto your lap like gift baskets from God. They hassle the baristas, complain about the prices, fly into fits when their order isn’t perfect. They come in whistling bad 80’s songs, smelling of expired milk. They wear XXL sweatpants that burst at the seams, with the word “Love” stretched across both butt cheeks. They lay waste to the Free Samples table, draining Dixie cups filled with whipped barbacoa marmalade frap-caps—taking down six before coming up for air. Then they smile at you with their white frap mustaches. And all you can think is “God bless my local Starbucks!”
But maybe you don’t have a Starbucks within walking distance. That’s okay. You will eventually. The good news is you don’t have to leave home. Outside the bewitching green glow of the caffeine limelight, a reservoir of deep characterization awaits you in your living room. My novel Rogue’s Curse (available now!) leans heavily on character quirks. What do I do when Starbucks is closed and I need to add depth to my prince, my rogue or my emaciated enchantress?
I turn on the television.
If you frequent this blog, you’re aware of my frightening dependency on VH1 and shady reality shows—specifically, Cops and To Catch a Predator. Why? Because you won’t find better characters anywhere else. In Cops, it’s the drunk driver, the domestic disturber, the “that’s not mine” guy; in To Catch a Predator, it’s the busted schoolteacher, family man, or creepy guy with bedroom eyes. When Mr. Police Officer pulls a dude over, or when Chris Hanson emerges from behind the felt curtain, the cameras reveal the actual person within. Whatever bravado or acting skill the criminal has is wiped clean, and what remains is pure instinct. The facial expressions, the immediate responses— the audience sees what words form when a guilty man shuffles off his inner filter. “I found six pounds of leaf in the backseat of your Bonneville,” says Officer Jones. “That’s not mine,” replies the perp. Beautiful.
Watch the perp’s reaction when Officer Jones bends him over the trunk and cuffs him. Note the rapid eye movement as the criminal tries to come up with something better than “It belongs to a friend.” His face contorts; what’s going through his mind? Is he thinking about jail, his family? What made him steal the car, crank up the Skynard, and cruise the camino for chicks? Where did he get that tat, his long hair, his pockmarked cheeks and that sweet, sweet 1981 Chrysler Lebaron?
In To Catch a Predator, the host sets them up with his questions: “Why did you come here today?”and “Did you bring alcohol?” Again, watch the eyes. Try this exercise: TiVo or YouTube a clip of this show. Power up your laptop and open a blank text document.
1) When the host emerges from behind the curtain and says, “How are you?” or “Did you have trouble finding the place?” press pause.
2) Put yourself in Mr. Perv’s shoes. Role-play. You’re pinned down, exposed. Now type your response. This isn’t the person you came to see; he’s much taller. Think fast! You have to answer Chris Hanson while still looking guiltless.
3) Unpause. Note the dude’s response, calm and nonchalant, betraying just a hint of apprehension. He’s been in this situation before; he’s used to answering tough questions. Take notes as the host strikes up a conversation. Type out your own answers. At the same time, look for some avenue of escape, just keep typing. Don’t stop.
4) When the host says these words, “You’re free to walk out that door,” stop the show.
Finished?
Now, 5) Put your protagonist(s) into the hot seat. Repeat this exercise with your characters walking into the decoy house or being handcuffed by the cop. How does he/she react? What’s at stake? The hot seat is the great equalizer. It doesn’t matter if your protagonist is a truck driver from Tucson or a zombie wet nurse; everyone shows a new level of personality when cornered.
Quirks. TV is full of them. You don’t have to sit at Starbucks and wait for them to order a cup of coffee; you just have to ogle the pretty colors on your television screen until your brain softens like a bruised peach.
Happy Writing!
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Posted by jbeymer on Sep 13, 2010 in Uncategorized
My pet clovort’s name is Squirreljaw. I call him that because he can fit twenty squirrels in his— Um, I mean because he’s cute.
When the “Name Your Pet Clovort” contest ended last night, Squirreljaw was hungry. He’s always hungry. He laughed at all eight entries: Minnie, Kitty, Tinnell, Wilbur, Sylvester, George, Beklin, and Dimeadip.
I let Squirreljaw pick the winner.
I collected eight squirrels from the traps in my backyard, one for each entry. There were actually fifteen (to cover any late entries), but we only needed eight. I wrote one clovort name on the back of each squirrel with a Sharpie, then brought them to Squirreljaw’s shed and let them loose.
Squirreljaw can be a picky eater. He giggled at Dimeadip for a long time and played Animal Autopsy with Sylvester, but he didn’t eat them. I yelled at Squirreljaw to stop playing with his food. Squirreljaw sighed, picked up Beklin by the tail and gulped down a winner.
And that means Janelle gets the prize! To claim it, tell me where to mail the squirrel’s remains and I’ll send them via UPS Overnight.
Thanks all for playing! I’ll have a new contest coming up soon.
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