Tag: Sunday thoughts

November 24, 2014

Wielding the Red Pen

“You write to communicate to the hearts and minds of others what’s burning inside you — And we edit to let the fire show through the smoke.” – Arthur Plotnik

If you want to learn the mechanics of great writing, edit someone else’s writing. That’s what I’ve been doing for the last couple of months. During lunch breaks and weekends, I’ve been on the opposite side of the creative process. In September, I agreed to read my friend and fellow wordnerd Lizy Newswanger’s manuscript. It was the first time I’ve ever edited a novel. I have taken up the mighty red pen before, but never for a project so long, layered and complex.

I did my best to edit fairly but firmly and advocate for the reader who may not understand the intricacies of Lizy’s imagined world. I corrected typos, identified plot holes, examined character development and made sure that important information had not been lost over a series of rewrites. I even invented a drinking game (whenever the title appears in the text, drink!). But above all, I tried to wield the power of the red pen responsibly to let the author’s voice and story shine through.

In the process, I not only read a great novel that I hope to someday see at my local bookstore, but I also gained valuable insight into how a story is constructed. I got to peek behind the curtain at a nearly finished book and see how all the cogs fit together. And I was able to do it with far more objectivity than if it were my own words on the page. It was an eye-opening experience.

Now that she has my comments for her next round of rewrites, I can focus on applying what I’ve learned to my novel-in-progress. And with any luck, we’ll both learn what it takes to get from final draft to published bestseller.

— 30 —

Jonny Eberle is a writer, editor and serial comma killer in Tacoma, WA. You can find him on Twitter. His short story, The Observable Universe, appears in Creative Colloquy Vol. 1 out now and available at King’s Books, the Nearsighted Narwhal and Amazon.
July 14, 2013

The Case of the Locked Door

It was a cold, stormy day in the city of sin and pine trees. Rain fell from the sky like the tears of fate. A train whistle cut the thin air. It was the kinda day that’s so perfect, you just know something’s bound to go disastrously wrong.

It didn’t take long for Lady Luck to lock the door on my plans for the afternoon. You see, I was about to leave for San Diego and had gotten a rental car for the week. This resulted in me having two sets of keys floating around my apartment — a recipe for mayhem.

I was running upstairs to grab something from the rental car. The apartment door closed behind me. And I knew instantly what had happened. Out of habit, I’d locked the door on my way out, but the keys in my hand only opened the rental car. My house keys were safely locked inside.

But there was one ray of sunlight that stormy July day. The screen door on my deck was open to air out the apartment. The only problem was the deck was seven feet off the ground.

All seemed lost. The neighbors didn’t have a ladder; the landlord’s office was closed. Our hero was sitting in his rental car in the rain, listening to the crooning of Billy Joel.

But then, in a flash of justice, Will and Lana arrived with a ladder in tow. We made haste to carry the wooden steps down to the back of the building. We had a heist to perform.

Will steadied the ladder in the mud; rain dripped down in my eyes as I scrambled up to the railing. Stealthily, I hoisted myself up onto the deck. My feet were swift and catlike. I didn’t want anyone calling the cops to report a break-in.

The door was cracked open and a fan was running inside. I stepped inside to collect my keys.

Later that evening, the three of us celebrated our successful racket over ice cream. My two sets of keys were hooked together in my pocket and we toasted fate as the rain drowned the city.

— 30 —

I’m a writer, film noir lover and key forgetter in Flagstaff, AZ. You can follow me on Twitter (@jonnyeberle) or leave your thoughts in the comments below. And don’t worry, Will now has a spare key to my apartment — just in case.

Related Posts:
Leupp’s Famous Onion Rings
The Best Birthday Resolutions Ever
Breathing Room for the Brain
June 30, 2013

Mechanisms

As long as I can remember, I have been fascinated with machines. Cogs and gears and wheels and pistons and springs and pulleys. When I was young, I was obsessed with steam engines and since then, my tastes have always taken a bent toward the old fashioned. I was always the kid taking apart pens to see how they worked and then losing a piece and never being able to put them back together.

Now, I collect manual typewriters and own a working turntable. Their workings are beautiful in their complexity; the way the tiny pieces all work in unison. And while I love my laptop computer and my smartphone and the miracle of the .mp3 (I’m very much a child of the millennium), when I’m searching for inspiration, I return to my rusty relics.

Why? Why are these items — largely rendered obsolete by the fast march of technical progress — still so captivating? Maybe it’s the craftsmanship on display that catches my eye. Maybe it’s a lingering, childlike wonder about how things work. Maybe it’s their ability to outlast their modern counterparts.

I love living in the future, but I also like ties to the past. I don’t think that’s a contradiction. I don’t know why I am the way I am, but there’s nothing wrong with being a little nostalgic for a time before I lived and to think, now and again, about the machine age that we’ve left behind.

— 30 —

Jonny Eberle is a throwback writer living in Flagstaff, AZ. When he’s not absorbed in one of his peculiar antiques and envisioning a tech noir future, you can find him tweeting his thoughts: @jonnyeberle. Thanks for reading.

Related Posts:
Love Letter to a Typewriter
Summer Nights
Flash Fiction Friday: Running Away
June 23, 2013

Solstice Filming

Filmmaking is often a fast-paced process. You have to be ready to hit record at a moment’s notice and then run off to set up your next shot. Actors have tight schedules (even more so when you’re not able to pay them). Lighting conditions are in flux. It is constant movement; constant anticipation; constant, simmering chaos.

Except when it’s not. Rarely, a filmmaker has an opportunity to relax while working. While filming my latest project with Obscure Studios — Poverty With a View, a satirical look at life after college in the recession — I decided to grab an iconic shot. In Flagstaff, the most recognizable feature of the landscape are the San Francisco Peaks.

The Peaks are actually one mountain, one huge volcano rising over 12,000 feet into the sky. The dominate the northern horizon and can be seen from almost anywhere in town. So, if I was going to make a web series set in Flag, the Peaks had to be in it.

I decided to film a sunset on the night of the summer Solstice. I staked out a clear spot in Buffalo Park and waited. Just waited. Once I had framed the mountain and hit record, there was nothing left to do but wait for the sunset. That was the strangest part. Filmmaking for me is such an involved process — there are so many variables to control and monitor — that to sit by idly for an extended period of time felt wrong. But after fidgeting for half an hour, I finally allowed myself time to enjoy the sunset.

And it was beautiful. The way the golden light paints the dead grass on the mesa; the way a violet shadow grows over the face of the mountain; and the gathering burnt orange glow around the sun. It actually made me stop thinking about the technical aspects of what I was doing and forced me to soak in the grandeur of the world.

I think we all need that from time to time. We get so wrapped up on our own little problems that we forget how small they are.

— 30 —

Jonny Eberle is a writer, photographer and filmmaker in Flagstaff, AZ, which was almost the town in the Eagles’ hit “Take It Easy.” Sadly, Winslow won out and ruined a lot of great marketing opportunities. Please feel free to comment or follow me on Twitter: @jonnyeberle.

Related Posts:
Paying My Dues
Turning a Lens On Antelope Canyon
Waitin’ On a Train
June 16, 2013

Shouting from Rooftops

At the end of most pieces of writing, you’ll find a few lines about the author. In less than 50 words, the writer establishes their ethos. Bios are frequently witty and include an impressive list of accomplishments. They rattle off their awards, their top-tier creative educations, their previous publication credits. This week, I sat down to write a new bio…and got stuck after typing my name. What was I supposed to say?

I’m not sure how people manage to make themselves sound so good. Maybe they really have done more with their lives and maybe they do have these thriving careers. That’s great for them. But what am I supposed to say about me?

I’m probably the world’s worst salesman. I couldn’t sell you a solid gold bar even if it was free. So, when it comes to selling myself, I don’t know how to do it convincingly. I’ve never been published. I don’t attend a prestigious writing program. What do I put in my bio?

Maybe all I need to do is write something passable. Something that sounds like me. I’ll stick to the facts — that I live in a small mountain town, graduated from college and have rather modest writing chops at this point in my life. The awards and publications will come later.

— 30 —

Jonny Eberle is a writer in Flagstaff, AZ. A graduate of Northern Arizona University, he was the Opinion Editor of his campus newspaper, where a disgruntled reader once threatened to throw him off a roof. You can read his blog or follow him on Twitter: @jonnyeberle.

Related Posts:
A Day Without a iPhone
Paying My Dues
Greasy Spoon
June 2, 2013

Sometimes, All You Need is Tea

There are days when I think I was born on the wrong side of the Atlantic. In a land of coffee addicts, I choose tea every time. To be sure, the taste is better; more nuanced and varied than coffee, but there is more to it than that. There is something in the ritual of its preparation that I’ve always found calming. For 3,000 years, tea has been consumed around the world to similar effect.

Today was one of those days. It’s been a long week. There hasn’t been much time to stop and breathe, let along put thoughts down on paper. And a week without writing is like damming a river — a lot of pressure builds up.

On a day like today, with bills looming and a 50-hour work week about to begin, I’ll take what comfort I can get. With a hot cup of tea in hand, I begin to think I can handle it. That’s the power of tea.

— 30 —

I’m a writer and serial tea drinker in Flagstaff, AZ. Brew yourself a cup, leave a comment or follow me on Twitter: @jonnyeberle. Thanks for reading!

Related Posts:
Tea is the Best Thing Ever
Saving My Spot on the Shelf
Let Your Characters Speak for Themselves
April 29, 2013

A Change of Place

Writer’s block is the worst. Worse than getting a cold in the summer. It sneaks up without warning and can leave you wordless for days, weeks. Thousands of books and blogs have been written promising the cure. Sometimes they help, but sometimes there is no easy cure. Like a car on an icy road, you’re spinning your wheels and unable to move. And it’s frustrating. I know. I have writer’s block right now.

Deadlines are looming and I cannot, for the life of me, get one word down. I tried freewriting. I tried writing prompts off the Internet. I tried eating a spoonful of peanut butter (Wait, was that for writer’s block or hiccups?).

Finally, I realized what it was. It was the place. Not the setting in my story — the place where I was writing. My apartment was toxic. I was surrounded by mental clutter that was stressing me out and keeping me from writing. Bills were piling up on the counter; dishes in the sink; clothes in the hamper. Whenever I sat down to write, I saw the dining room chairs that need to be refinished and reupholstered or the tax documents that still needed to be filed or any number of projects that demand my immediate attention.

I needed a change of venue. (My girlfriend’s apartment wasn’t much better. She has final exams coming up and stress is contagious.) Finally, I ended up at Bookmans, a local used bookstore with a cozy cafe. It’s one of my favorite spots; always filled with interesting people and books brimming with stories.

And sometimes, when all the complicated remedies fail to deliver, a simple change is all you need. Because I sat down at the bar with my tea and the words started pouring out, as if they’d been waiting there for me all along.

— 30 —

I’m a writer living in Flagstaff, AZ. How do you deal with writer’s block? Leave your tips in the comments or shoot me a tweet: @jonnyeberle.

Related Posts:
Staring Down a Blank Page
Successful Failures
The Sharp Sting
April 21, 2013

Let Your Characters Speak for Themselves

Some writers are afraid of dialogue. I used to be one of them. I would write page after page of brilliant narrative — crisp details and settings so real you could smell the ponderosa pine sap on the thin mountain air — without a single line of dialogue.

I was terrified to let my characters speak. Because I knew the spoken word was a whole different beast to tame. It didn’t play by the same rules as straight narrative and it was hard to get a feel for it from the authors I was reading. Dialogue was the weakest part of my game, so I tried to minimize its role in my prose.

I think a lot of writers fall into this same trap. Dialogue is scary. It feels clunky and fake when it’s written out; it’s difficult to figure out what’s missing. What is the spark that makes it real?

It takes time to train your ear to hear speech correctly. A lot of it comes from talking to and listening to people. People from all over the world. Notice where they place emphasis; which words they use over and over; the cadence of their sentences.

Quickly, you’ll notice that people do not speak properly. Life isn’t an English essay. People don’t use complete sentences. They sprinkle their conversations with jargon, quotes, references, inside jokes. They conjugate verbs incorrectly and end sentences with prepositions.

The second thing you should do is immerse yourself in theatre. Watch some plays. Then read some plays. Then write some plays. Plays are almost entirely dialogue. There is some stage direction, but the spoken parts carry the plot, develop the characters and engage the audience. If you want to see how language can make a piece of writing sparkle, study the plays of Neil Simon, Harvey Fierstein, Lisa Loomer, Arthur Miller and George Bernard Shaw. Notice how the characters play off each other; notice how hidden agendas and secret desires are manifested in the dialogue.

With a careful ear and a lot of practice, the dialogue in your stories can go from the dullest facet of your piece to the most polished.

— 30 —

Jonny Eberle is a writer, photographer and occoccasional playwright living in Flagstaff, AZ. You can find more of his signature wit, wisdom and words, words, words on Twitter: @jonnyeberle.

Related Posts:
From the Page to the Stage: A Playwright’s Journey
Forget What You Know — Write What You Feel
Ripped from the Headlines
March 31, 2013

Envelopes and Anticipation

There was an undeniable sense of destiny as I slipped the envelope into the mailbox. Inside was a submission for a literary journal’s fiction contest. I’ve entered several contests and submitted to many journals over the past year, but for some reason, this one felt bigger. Why? Why was I so apprehensive?

The reason, I think, was the strange, tactile nature of this particular submission. Most journals take stories electronically, either through email or an online system. It’s rare to actually send a story in the mail anymore. But holdouts still exist.

For the first time, I held my words in my hands. And I felt something like stage fright (writer’s fright, if you will). For the first time, I really worried about the quality of my work. Holding the papers, stuffing the envelope, scratching out my old address on the reading fee check — the process felt more real than uploading documents and hitting send.

I swapped the addresses on the first envelope and had to run to the store to pick up a replacement. Then, I had to spend some time researching how many stamps it would take to pay the way from here to Ohio. I had my girlfriend seal the envelope for good luck.

Before I knew it, it had slipped out of from between my fingers into the belly of the blue steel box outside the post office. Physically touching it, for however brief a time, was profoundly different. I felt like a writer, releasing my creation into a big, scary world of criticism and rejection. Now, it has to fend for itself.

— 30 —

Jonny Eberle is a writer in Flagstaff, AZ who was born in that odd half-analog/half-digital generation that still can’t decide if it prefers .mp3 or vinyl. Send him a letter or shoot him a tweet at @jonnyeberle. Thanks for reading!

Related Posts:
Risking Publication (Maybe)
The Sinister Specter of Revision
Rebel Without a Notebook
March 10, 2013

The End of an Era

All things must end. Wind and water erode mountains, rust eats away steel, entropy unravels the universe and my university deletes my email account. I guess it was bound to happen eventually, but I’m not ready to give it up. I still use it for correspondence (and coupons), to use the school’s wireless internet and to impress people at parties (a .edu address makes you look smarter). But in a few weeks, the system will delete me from its databanks and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

Nothing I can do to slow the inexorable flow of time from the past into the future. The only thing I can do is rescue my files and important emails from their digital apocalypse.

As I forward old conversations, I realize that this is how eras end — they do not come grinding to a halt all at once, they are dismantled piece by piece. This is how my college years end, as a gradual drifting away. Graduation; friends moving away; email account deletion. Bit by bit, it all slips out of my grasp.

You and I both know this is about more than just losing my email. It’s about moving on from a phase in my life that is finished. And I think letting go of that is ultimately healthy. Time to let go. Time to log out.

— 30 —

I’m a writer and photographer in Flagstaff, AZ, the town where I went to college. When I’m not getting all nostalgic about my inbox, you can find me on the Twitter machine: @jonnyeberle. Please feel free to follow me there and leave your thoughts in the comments.

Related Posts:
Life is a Question Mark
Best Birthday Resolutions Ever
Torn Sleeves: 5 Things I Learned About Writing in 2012