Meet the Character: Marcus Bertrand
Between now and the summer launch of my novel, Flowers of Dionysus I’ll be posting some introductions to the characters, as well as some other information about the story. Today I’m introducing you to Marcus Bertrand, one of five point-of-view characters in the novel.
Marcus is over six feet tall, so when he talks, most people tend to listen. This comes in handy when you’re a community theater stage manager. As anyone familiar with putting on a production at the community level will tell you, it is, on its best day, organized chaos, and the stage manager is often most responsible for making sure the entire operation doesn’t leave out the “organized” part altogether. A lover of order and efficiency, Marcus, (a travel agent by day) volunteers many hours to the local theater scene to help keep productions on course. That’s how he met Matt Blackwell, an actor whose dedication and professionalism matched his own. The two became fast friends, and over the years have evolved into one of the best friends the other ever had. In fact, he is the only person Matt would ever allow to call him “Blacky,” a nickname Marcus came up with combining Matt’s last name, and his tendency toward melancholy.
Though he doesn’t consider himself an artist per se, Marcus takes pride in enabling others to create art on the stage. By maintaining order and safety, and acting as a sounding board for aesthetic ideas, (such as a production’s set or light scheme), he contributes to bringing the arts to small communities in his spare time.
Loyal, reliable, plain-spoken and rarely willing to suffer fools and lazy people, Marcus Bertrand is an asset to any stage production he is involved in. But will even his dedication and passion for his volunteer work be enough to help steady a wavering summer production this year at the Little Dionysus Playhouse? Find out when you read my novel, Flowers of Dionysus, coming out in e-book this summer.
Ripeness
Once I put the former Novel 2 in a drawer for the foreseeable future, I’ve been without a solid idea for a novel. That concerned me, as did the fact that I also haven’t been writing much in the way of short fiction this year. (Though I have been editing various projects.)
Truth be told, I’m still concerned. However, in the six weeks since I set aside that novel, potential ideas have slowly but surely dragged themselves into the more accessible segments of my imagination. These few concepts, while still broad are nonetheless more defined than anything I had earlier in the year. That’s not to say I’ve found my next long project for certain. These sketches, like any, may in fact go nowhere. Yet the fact that a few concepts have obtained the most basic of general shapes is at least a small relief from my concerns over productivity. I’d like some more ideas and possibilities, and hopefully with time they will arrive as well. I suspect my mind may have needed some time to step away from producing for a while, in order to ruminate, observe and speculate. If that’s true, it needs even more time to do so, I think.
Something else that has happened during this, for lack of a better term, creativity slow-down, is my reaction to the ideas that show up. Never one to write anything and everything that popped into my mind, I have nevertheless sometimes pursued a concept in fiction before it was “ripe” if you will. Some concepts never become ripe, while others require more thought. More marinating. Some even require specific questions be considered by the author. During these six weeks, I have found myself more willing to examine these infant fiction concepts at arm’s length for a bit. I found myself more able to ask such questions as:
“Is this a concept that speaks to me personally, or is it just a concept I’d like to see someone out there tackle?”
“Is this idea simply a rehash or something I’ve already done? Is it simply a formulaic piece wrapped in something shiny for the moment?”
“Are there other aspects to this idea that could be added to give it more dimensions?”
“Does this idea offer the possibility of a process I will enjoy, as opposed to a single notion I like to ponder over and over?”
“What is the prime component of this potential idea that appeals to me most? Why did I not reject it right away? Can and entire narrative that I will enjoy be spun from those components?”
In case you were wondering, I’ve not yet answered these questions, (and several others) in regards to these potential fiction concepts. It will require more pondering. However, the fact that I’m asking these questions on a more consistent basis earlier in the game indicates a slight shift from how I have operated in the past. Never harebrained with my fiction, I have tended to explore a concept in an outline first, which then makes me feel obligated to start a first draft, and so on. Based on my pleasant and unpleasant previous writing experiences, I’m test driving ideas for a little longer than my average.
Perhaps my mind needed some time away from new concepts for a while in order to ask the proper questions about the new ideas.
How do you decide if an idea is ripe for you to pursue in writing fiction?
Bracket Bust and Vested Interests
I don’t follow college basketball. But this year I filled out a bracket for the first time ever. I didn’t research anything. I simply chose based on hunches, and a bit on “how much I have heard people mention this team.” A team I picked to go to the championship already lost a game on the first day of the tournament. So my first ever bracket is, as they apparently say, busted.
Not that I expected to do great in this thing, though I did think my pick for the final game would get a bit further than the first game. Still, I didn’t lay down any money, so it’s not big deal. And I can say that I predicted three of the match ups correctly so far in the first round, though I haven’t watched any of them games. I had planned to watch portions of some of the games at least, just for the sake of supporting my bracket picks. At this rate, however, who knows if I will have any teams left to root for by the weekend.
The whole thing got me to thinking about vested interest, though. How such things as competitions can become instantly more enjoyable if we even lightly declare a preference for an outcome. I, who have no real interest in college basketball will probably watch a bit of it each night, just because I officially filled out a bracket. No knowledge behind that bracket, but they are my picks nonetheless. Because they are my picks, I have a “reason” to tune into some of the games for a while as the month rolls on.
It’s like spring training baseball, which I have watched a bit as well. None of the games count, but you still want your team to win. Or if you are more into football, it’s easier to watch a game your team is not in, if you pick a reason for one of the teams to win. In many cases that would involve fantasy football. However, I will sometime root for a team I am otherwise neutral about because I hate their opponent more. Or because a friend of mine likes the team. Not as exciting as my own team playing, but it’s just that little bit of vested interest that makes the game more fun. (Though there are some games I just can’t watch, regardless.)
Chalk it up to human nature; some part of our brains and psyche’s are built to root for something. Not just in sports, though that’s the easiest metaphor of the concept. A few weeks ago we saw the same thing with the Oscars; we tend to root for nominees we have personally watched, even if we haven’t seen their competition. Then there are those who fill out Oscar pools, regardless of whether they’ve seen any of the movies. (Though it would take more than a pool for me to want to sit through the Academy Awards, I have to say.)
When there is money on the line, I don’t find the concept as fascinating. In that cast, people just want money. Easy enough to understand their stake. But when we suddenly find more interest in an outcome, simply because we said, “I predict this,” amuses me, even if my bracket is already busted.
I did however, fill out a bracket for the women’s tournament as well. So there is hope yet.
Meet the Character: Matt Blackwell
As part of the lead in to the summer publication of my novel, Flowers of Dionysus, I’ll be posting about certain aspects of the novel, to give the world an idea of what sort of work it is. Today I’m talking about one of the point of view characters, and the main protagonist, Matt Blackwell.
Matt (short for Matthias) minored in the theatre arts in college, after being bitten by the acting bug during his studies in mass communication. He appeared in one particular traveling college production at that time that formed his perceptions about acting for years to come. It was during that production, and because of one audience and venue in particular that Matt came to realize the potential power and exhilaration of acting on stage.
The novel, however, takes place about ten years after Matt finishes college. For a few years after he graduated Matt spent much of his free time and creative energy appearing in various local community theatre productions, to sometimes great acclaim. Yet as time went on and local talent pools changed and decreased theatre began to lose its luster for Matt. What once was his passion and a major outlet for him became almost like work once he became one of the few locals who put as much effort into his part. No longer a driving force in his life, Matt gave up acting. Only a good friend in desperate need for a replacement actor convinces him after a two year hiatus, to step back onto the boards in her production.
Matt works as a copy writer for a non-profit agency, despises coffee and cooks most of his own meals. Unmarried, he lives alone in a small apartment in a medium sized town. Quiet, introverted, observant, and a bit of a skeptic at times, what he sometimes lacks in charisma he makes up for in knowledge, talent, frankness, and a willingness to help others.
He is determined to make this production his official last, even though his friends don’t know it. Will Matt give up acting on a high note, or will he live to regret taking part in this troubled community production?
Find out this summer when I release Flowers of Dionysus for purchase.
Books, Books, Everywhere and Not a Page to Enjoy?
I went to the local library today to find a novel to read. No big deal, right? Actually, it can be at least a medium deal for me.
For starters I read kind of slow, so the time investment hangs over any novel I pick up. Which is why I tend to give a book 50 pages to get my attention, or it’s on to the next choice, if I have one. So I’m a bit picky. (I already bailed on The Impeachment of Abraham Lincoln this year for this reason.)
Yet I’m haphazard when it comes to choosing novels to read. That’s not to say I ‘m random. Far from it, in fact. But unlike most people, who search by genre, by author, or even by best seller status, I tend to select novels based on how much the story summary appealed to me, with little to no regard of who or what it is connected to. That doesn’t sound so odd at first, but consider how more difficult it can be to discover my next good read during a visit to the library when:
-I don’t make an effort to stay within a genre for a while.
-I rarely seek out a book based on who wrote it. I’ve only done this twice, I believe.
-I’m just as likely to be interested in a book published 20 years ago as I am the current flavor of the month. In fact, I am somewhat more likely to choose the older book.
-I don’t read reviews of books before I pick them up. I save that for after I’m done with them.
-I tend to be turned off by the most popular concepts/formulas of the time.
When I do hear about a book I’d like to try, either by chance or as the result of my researching a genre, you wouldn’t believe how often it isn’t available in my county library system, nor worth the price to purchase. Throw in some bad luck, (I end up enjoying maybe half the books I ultimately choose to read) and it’s clear why library browsing is not the most efficient means for me to find my next read.
“Well, what sort of books do you like to read? Maybe I can recommend something.” Such is what I heard a few times a year from various people. And while the notion is appreciated, I have no go-to description of the type of novel I like to read. To me, reading a novel is such a compartmentalized experience, at present it’s not practical for me to say something like, “I enjoy plot-driven historical mysteries with single person narratives.” (That’s just an example, I have no preference for that type of book per se.) This, I realize, must sound insane to readers and writers alike, but it’s true; I have not short answer to the question.
I’ve gone over the books I’ve enjoyed in the past, and tried to find common denominators. A few broad ones have appeared. I certainly prefer strong characters with a weak plot as opposed to vice-versa. I like modest character counts, especially with POV characters. Truth be told, I’m pretty sure I prefer only one POV, even though I’ve written a novel that has more than one. In time gone by I did read more suspense, Everyday Man trapped in weird conspiracy or historic discovery type of novels, ala Steve Berry. But I’ve turned a bit away from those in recent times. There are a few more common elements to novels I like, but you get the idea; my perimeters are pretty broad, and I don’t mention a specific genre for most of those.
I have no order to the books I try!
I know that for the sake of finding more potential novels I would enjoy, I need to invest the time to think about what it is that speaks to me most, so I can rely on something other than an interesting title and a cover flap blurb. It may in fact be my only hope. This skimming through the library thing doesn’t cut it for a number of reasons. Especially now that I’m noticing patterns in popular fiction, (from which literature is not exempt.) I confess that any story well told can be a joy to read, regardless of what it’s about. I can’t know until I try, right? But I have limited time on the earth to read, and something has to thin the herd from the start. The following trends in fiction will almost always turn me away instantly:
– Any novel that can be described as a “coming of age” story. Nothing about that formula, as I have experienced it, appeals to me. Sometimes it even annoys me. It could be because I never experienced “coming of age” myself. I can’t relate to it. When people ask me about my teenage years, I tend to say they lasted until I was about 20. (I didn’t say it was clever.)
-“Siblings-that-don’t-get-along-until…” literature. Lots of that, and I put down a book as soon as the flap indicates that’s what’s going on. I have relationship of varying degrees with each of my five siblings, and I feel sufficiently exposed to the gamut without reading a book about it. And since I have but one brother, decades older than me, I cannot relate to the popular siblings-torn-apart-by-falling-for-the-same-woman deal.
-Series. I am reluctant to start these money-makers, whether they be a sequential set, such as the Hunger Games, or just a recurring character in separate, different adventures. I have read more than one Robert Langdon novel, but I think I am done with those. I read the Harry Potter series, and I have never been sure why. Even that took me years. But on the whole, unless it’s immaculate story telling, I don’t see myself going through another series of more than three books, if that. Again, I read slow, and spending a whole novel with characters is a big enough investment. Spending five novels with them doesn’t appeal to me. At least it hasn’t yet.
-Fantasy. Huge umbrella, I know. Bare with me. I dip my toe in fantasy waters every few years or so, but have not committed in a while. I have been burned way too many times on it. I want to enjoy fantasy, but no matter how new or old, well known or obscure my choices in the genre have been, I end up disliking what I read at best, and quitting in the middle at worst. Perhaps my luck applies only to so called “high-fantasy.” I would think it would be easy to find something with wizards and magic and swords to enjoy, but it hasn’t been. All the ones I pick up seemed infested with in-genre winks and jokes I do not get, gratuitous violence followed by same, and just in general make me feel like I was cordially invited to someone else’s eight hour Table RPG party, and then promptly ignored once the game started, left to the chips in the kitchen and making conversation with the host’s younger sister and her friends. I need serious guidance on high-fantasy to try it again. Ironically, one of the main inspirations for my own novel was an obscure fantasy novel I read years ago, one of the few I ever enjoyed. But it was low-fantasy. I think. (Therein is part of the problem.)
-Sci-Fi. Another big umbrella. My luck here has been a bit better, but I don’t get to enjoy it as much as I want to. The science, especially these days, seems to take over at the expense of character or even story. This may make me a bad fit for sci-fi, but I don’t care exactly how the hyperdrive works in theory; it doesn’t exist and unless it is part of the plot, I don’t need to know.
-Children dying. Maybe it makes me less of an adult, I don’t know. But if the premise of a book is a child dying, (and there are quite a few) I will not read it. That’s just that. On a similar note, books about people dying long, slow deaths are out most of the time as well.
-More than ten important POV characters. You don’t usually know this until you’re into a book. If I know ahead of time though, I’m likely to skip it. It’s more difficult to relate to that many people, and I want to relate, even if I don’t admire, characters in a book.
-Non-linear. It can be done well, and this isn’t s deal breaker yet, but it’s getting there. Maybe I’m old fashioned, but I do like to go from point A to point B when I read. The Night Circus contributed a great deal to my disdain for multiple timelines and such.
-Purple prose. Those are weasel words, I know. “Purple” is different things to different people. But on the whole, if a book is known chiefly for its “meticulous descriptions” I am probably not going to read it.
-Over 500 pages. Even at 500, it better be intriguing. I’ve read a handful of books more than 500 pages, and in most cases I felt there was no reason for it to be that long. I’d read a book over 500 pages if the first 100 would fantastic, or the premise called to me on a personal level.
-Experimental. Another umbrella, and there may indeed be experimental novels that I would love. But after attempting, You Were Wrong, There but for the and Travels in the Scriptorium, I doubt it. If this makes me an immature reader, so be it. But I won’t be trying anything else by the authors of those books for a very long time, if ever.
-Current best sellers. I don’t like running into the hype. I wait for it to die down a few years before I pick up most of the “everybody’s talking about” books. Even then I don’t always. I read The Kite Runner while the whole world was doing so, as well as The Secret of Lost Things and in neither case was it worth it.
And so on. There are, I’m sure, other basic aspects of a novel that turn me off or make me cringe as soon as I read the blurb, but these seem to be the most likely to push me away. For whatever reason, most books I browse at the library seem to fall into one or more of these categories.
I picked up two books today, one literature and one whose genre I’m unsure of. In case I hate the one, I have the other without going back to the library to start the whole process all over again in a day.
Based on what I’ve said here, if you have any suggestions, feel free to let me know.
Ty Unglebower 