WHAT IT TAKES TO WRITE AS A TEAM

Ammon is in Black & Gold on Right

When my son, Ammon, played basketball for Monarch High School, my wife and I cheered enthusiastically from the bleachers. 

We soon found out that not all his teammates were "team players."  Most notable were those whose whole ambition was to get the ball and drive hell-bent down the court to make a spectacular layup. 

As a 6'4" forward, Ammon was especially good at working the boards, rebounding and driving in to pass off at the last second, allowing another player in a better position to score. 

Had to document that Ammon (#35) did make baskets!

During a particularly heated game, we heard the Dad of one of the players, who was seated behind us, comment, "Ammon is too nice.  He won't get the stats."

I thought, "That's because he's a team player."

In any team sport, there are two driving forces that must be kept in balance:  what’s best for the one versus what’s best for the whole.  In the end, team work means doing what’s best for the whole team first, before doing what might be best for any individual, including yourself.

Great teams come together only when each player cares as much about the success of the other team members as he cares about his own. 

Back Row: Berk 3rd from Left, Andy 2nd from Right

Now, brotherly relationships can be notoriously complicated, with a lot of old baggage, but in our case, I enjoy my relationship with Andy and value his friendship.  As writers, I think the different experiences and skills we bring to the table are complimentary, and the product of our joint efforts is greater than the sum of its parts.

We discovered this only as adults. 

Growing up, I was always in the “big-kids” group of siblings, while Andy was always in the “little-kids” group.  Big kids were allowed by our parents to do things that the little kids were not.  This created a gap between us, and when we did interact as children, it was often when the big kids were playing dirty tricks on the little kids. 

Fortunately, Andy survived, and we had similar growing-up experiences, though the events in Andy’s life came a half-dozen years after mine.  While we both became lawyers, we both eventually decided to try something new.

Scary stories have always been a family specialty.  I started writing a young adult science fiction series, and when Andy also tried his hand at writing fiction, it didn’t take long for us to come together as The Brothers Washburn on a young adult horror series.  We find that once we start telling a horror tale, any bounds on the story are limited only by our own creativity and imagination. 

Telling tales is way more fun than being a lawyer.

As brothers, we get along well and have a healthy level of mutual self-respect, so we can freely share ideas and challenge each other without worrying about egos.  We are more creative when we are bouncing ideas off each other and discussing a general storyline, but we actually write separately, conferring afterwards on what we have been doing. 

In some ways, we are very different in how we approach a story.  Andy used to be a planner (a habit he got from writing like a lawyer), but in fiction writing, he no longer likes to plan ahead.  He likes to develop his characters, and then let them take the story wherever it is going to go. 

On the other hand, I am definitely still a planner.  I am always making lists and outlines, not only for the current story, but for future stories as well.

For both of us, background research is important in the theoretical sciences as well as in the local Trona geography.  The Dimensions in Death series is an ongoing horror story based on principals of science rather than on demons, devils or magical creatures, so an understanding of scientific theory is necessary and fun. 

However, Dimensions in Death is not a science fiction series with a few scary scenes.  It is horror, suspense and fright in a fast pace narrative with a little science sprinkled on for spice as the truth is gradually discovered by our heroes in the story.  Separately, the local geography in the story plays a critical role in setting the mood of the tale.  Trona, California is a real place in this world located in a desolate region of the Mojave Desert by Death Valley.  We grew up there and try to keep the series settings as real as possible.

The general outline for Pitch Green, the first book in the horror series, came together in November of 2010.  We were attending a writer’s seminar together in Manhattan and listening to panel discussions by top literary agents during the day.  One night, as we rode the subway from one end-of-the-line stop across town to the opposite end-of-the-line stop, and then back again, we mapped out the basic elements we would need to expand a favorite childhood scary story into a full-length novel.  Andy wrote the first rough draft, and then, in our typical tag-team effort, I took that draft over to edit and expand the tale. 

In the writing of the first book, the ground work was laid for both the sequels and the prequels in that series.  The whole tale is long and complicated.  However, as The Brothers Washburn, we are having more fun in the spinning of it than should be legally allowed.

But that’s okay--we know some good lawyers.



For the original of this post, go F.J.R. Tichenell, our blog tour host extraordinaire, here. Thanks, Fiona.

It flows in the veins!

           I received an email from my daughter with a copy of a scary story written by my 7 (almost 8) year old grandson, Scott.  I could not be more proud.  So, without further ado, I am pleased to initiate the writing career of Scott Wessel:

A GHOST STORY!

            Once upon a time I was sitting next to a fire and I heard a noise.  I asked my dad.  He didn’t know.  I wasn’t scared.  I went to investigate.  I saw two red eyes.  I got a little scared.  But I was brave.  I saw a ghost.  It was scary.  It wanted to scare the people.  But before it did I scared it!  The End. 

            Watch out Stephen King!  Here is the original version:

 

            And here is Scott, (he is also a soccer star):

 

            It is so fun being a grandparent.  I just wish you didn’t have to wait so long to get there.

 

When it is SCARY!

      The following is a guest blog we did for the site http://kindreddreamheart.blogspot.com/, by the intrepid blogger KATRINA.  Her blog is very original and entertaining.  Check it out.

 

 

WHEN IT IS SCARY

            Why are we afraid of the dark?  (A question purportedly answered by the movie The Sixth Sense.)  Why are some people afraid of clowns (something I never understood), or worse, of nuns? (which I understand even less--it seems to me that nuns have more cause to be afraid of the rest of us, than we do of them.)

            Why are we afraid?  I don’t mean, why do we have phobias.  We all have phobias.  I have “vexophobia”, the fear of being annoyed by other people.  (Okay, okay, I just now made that up.  Back off already!)  I mean something deeper; something way down inside of our dark, hidden selves.  What is it down there that reaches up, grabs us by the throat and tells us when to be scared?  Why are we afraid?

            As a writer of scary stories this question is something more than metaphysical to me.  It is, in fact, not only practical, but a means to earning an income.  So, as you may imagine, this is something I have thought about extensively.  Shoving all the psychology aside, I think that fear is determined by our perception.  It all comes down to when we look out our little window-eyes, what do we perceive is out there, and more importantly, how do we perceive what is out there.  Depending on how our minds perceive what our little window-eyes see, I believe, determines if we are to be afraid or not.

            As I frequently do when I blog, I’ve reached a point where I have mentally painted myself into a corner.  Oh, I can get out of the corner, but can I do it without leaving red footprints all over the place?  (For some reason, when I paint myself into a corner I always do it in red paint).  I will try to get out of this corner by giving you an example:

            “I cut my victims down one by one; slicing their life away as I dismembered their limbs.  They did not go willingly.  As I attacked them with a large, serrated blade each would groan in protest.  They scratched at my face and hands in futile defense, clawing and tearing my flesh.  It did them no good.  After cutting them down, they screamed as I eviscerated their remains.  They could not stop the inevitable.  With heartless determination I finished the job, and then carefully cleaned up the mess so there would be no evidence of their remains left behind.”

            The above statement is all true, and took place just a couple of weekends ago.  I am describing a Saturday morning’s work trimming a number of trees, and pushing the cut limbs through a wood chipper.  Remember Fargo?

            It wasn’t really that scary, unless you were the tree.  Perception.

 

 



DON'T LOOK UNDER THE BED!

CC Robbie Grubbs

          Slowly I pushed the door open, straining to see into the bedroom without actually stepping in.  The door opened all the way against the sliding closet doors behind it, and I could see that both closet doors were closed, so I knew there was nothing immediately behind the door I was pushing, but I had no idea what might be waiting for me in the closet.  The hallway lights were off, but there was still enough light behind me that my form cast a long pillar across the room and onto the far wall.  Nervously, I crouched to minimize my dark shadow, knowing there were hidden eyes watching me, waiting for my next move.
           Reaching carefully around the corner into the room, I flipped the light switch hoping a light might come on, but nothing happened.  Though it was hopeless, I flipped the switch a couple more times, thinking it might elicit a response from someone in the room–still nothing.  Except for a lamp stuffed into a far corner of the room and covered with a white sheet, the room was dark and mostly hidden in black shadows–nothing moved,  except when my imagination was playing tricks on me.  A blanket hung across the outside windows, blocking all light from the outside, and another blanket had been tied so that it hung from the non-working ceiling light across to one end of the window blind–it completely hid one corner of the room.
         This was a new configuration.  I had no way of knowing what to expect.  Getting down on my hands and knees, I tried to see under the beds, but the blankets on both beds had been pulled all the way down to the floor, hiding anything that might be underneath.  Holding my breath, I listened for any noise–breathing, rustling, any sound that might betray a stalker lying in wait, but I heard nothing, except my own heart beating.  The first move had to be mine, so I stood and leaned further into the room.  There were deep piles of blankets and pillows on the bed to my right.  I decided not to go that way–who knew what was under those piles.
          Sliding into the room with my back against the closet door, I kept one hand on its handle, so I would know if anyone tried to open it from the inside.  I stepped quickly past the closet and into the middle of the wall on the other side, keeping my back to that wall, facing out into the room, always watching for any movement and listening for any noise.  I was now close enough to the second bed that with a couple quick steps, I could hop up on top of it.  It had no blankets or pillows on it that might be hiding something–it looked safe.  As I stepped forward, getting close enough to hop up on the bed, a hand suddenly shot out from under the bed, grabbing my ankle.  I yelped in surprise.  They had me and I hadn’t even seen it coming.
          In a sudden rush of relief, the tension was released, and I was safe once more.  Of course, I had never really been in danger–it had just felt that way.  And that was the fun of our home made haunted house, or in this case, haunted bedroom.
           This was a game invented by our cousins, Sandra and Steven.  Fraternal twins and a year older than me, Sandra and Steven were naturals at inventing new games.  They didn’t come to our house often, but when they did, there was always something new and interesting going on, and it was usually scary.  As the evening wore on and it started to get dark, when our cousins were visiting, someone would always say, “Let’s make a haunted house.”  Because the grownups didn’t want us ransacking the entire house, it was really just “a haunted room,” but that was all we needed to create some serious haunting.
          The rules of the game were very simple.  One of the kids was sent away to wait in the front room while all the other kids turned a back room (usually a bedroom) into a haunted house.  When someone in the haunted house yelled, “Ready,” the designated victim would try to find all the monsters hidden around the room before one of them could grab the victim by surprise.  Because there were so many monsters, and only one victim, the victim always lost, but everyone enjoyed the mystery and suspense of being the victim.  It was a challenge trying to anticipate where all the monsters would be hidden.  Sometimes a monster would be left out in plain sight just to distract the victim from another monster hidden nearby.
          At the same time, we all enjoyed being monsters too.  It took a lot of creativity to not just do the same thing every time–there was no mystery or suspense in doing the same thing over and over.  In addition, a good haunted house required more than just mystery and suspense.  In order to be really scary, a good haunted house, or for that matter, a good horror story needs one or both of the following:  (1) a dangerous threat from an unknown source of inhuman power, and/or (2) a warping or distortion of something that is normally familiar and friendly.
          The victim in a haunted house (or the reader of a horror story) must feel a personal threat either to him or herself directly or to a significant other (like the story’s main character, who the victim personally cares about).  The more significant the threat, then the scarier the threat, with life and death threats being among the scariest.  A good horror story first creates a bond between the reader and the character at risk, so the threatening unknown power will hang heavy over the reader as it hangs heavy over the character in the story.  However, a constant stream of excessive blood and gore is not scary, and in fact will drive the reader out of the story in disgust, leaving the reader reluctant to come back again to that particular story or to any others like it.
           In addition to simply killing off other characters in the story, another way to make the unknown power threatening, or to increase a sense of the threat, is to create a sense of revulsion through the warping or distortion of the familiar.  Few things are more fascinating, and at the same time more scary, as something familiar, even mundane, that has been horribly warped or distorted to the point that it has become painfully ugly.  Even without feeling a direct personal threat to oneself or a significant other, an encounter with a painfully ugly distortion of the familiar can elicit gut wrenching feelings of revulsion and fear.  This has been done successfully with clowns, birds and even mothers.
          Though I didn’t realize it at the time, I was learning some interesting lessons in the hunted house game.  A really good haunting or horror experience requires some personal skin in the game (either your own or a significant other’s), while at the same time dealing with a life threatening risk from an unknown source of inhuman power that is presenting itself as a painfully ugly distortion of something that is normally familiar and friendly.  A subtle presentation of these elements will beat a stream of blood and gore every time, and will keep your readers (victims) coming back again and again.  Though you will need to be creative to build the mystery and suspense anew in each new story, your readers will love you for it.

Good haunting!  Good horror!


This Guest Post was written by Berk for Pitch Green's Blog Tour.  Find the original post on  Teri Harman's blog

 

MY PRECIOUS

    

           Writing is a precious thing.  Sometimes I have it and sometimes it gets lost.  Virtually every other job I’ve ever done, including attorneying, (I know it’s not a word, get over it) I could do whether I felt like it or not.  Writing is different.  It’s there or it’s hiding.  I mean, it usually close, but sometimes it seems to be just out of reach.

            Berk and I have been promoting our first book, “Pitch Green”.  And we have been having fun doing it.  We have number of signings to go to, and I think those will be fun too.  But there is a part of me, a large part, that just wants to get back to the creative process of writing.  We are almost done with the sequel to “Pitch Green”, Berk is mainly working on it now.  As a result, I have a serious hankering to start the third and final book in this trilogy.

            I actually want to go to Trona (where our story takes place) to write this third one.  Not because Trona is such a lovely place, especially in 100 plus degree summer weather, but because I can play the hermit and just create, (which is the same thing as writing).

"No, that wasn't me!"

            I mean, I get enough privacy here in Colorado, and I should be able to write here, just like I did for the first two books.  My only company during the day is Jimmy, the dog.  And he isn’t much of a distraction, except when he is flatulent, which is often, but I should still be able to write here, especially now that the weather is finally warming.

            And yet, that part of me that loves being alone, avoiding people, walking around without pants, looks for even more isolation.  Several people have told me that they can’t wait for the second book to come out, (it will be out in March, 2014), and I think they will be pleased with what we’ve done.  We have some new characters, some new monsters, a little science fiction, and a whole lot of fun destroying things and getting scared.  You’ll like it.  Trust me.

Not really a new character in the book, but it is scary looking.

But all the characters from the first book and new characters you will see in the second, are calling to me, trying to get out of my head and onto paper.  And truthfully, while I don’t have a clue as to what they all will be doing in the third book, (I don’t outline these things ahead of time) I think they will all be doing exciting and memorable stuff.  I’m anxious to see how it turns out.

            I have to wait, though, a little longer.  Responsibility beckons me stay for various thing.  The Cal in me (a character from the book) wants to screw responsibility and just move on.  The Camm in me (the other main character) says “no”.  I must finish what I need to do here.  Damn it Camm, why did we make you so responsible? 

            So, I will see many of you at a signing in Boulder at the Pearl Street Mall on the 4th of May and another one somewhere else on the 18^th.  (I know I should know where it is, I'll figure it out before the 18th.) But soon thereafter, it is off to Trona, and adventure time. 

            It is so hard to wait.

 

DEVELOPING CHARACTER, OR AM I REALLY INSANE?

I wrote the following blog for Jenniffer Wardell, and it was first published on her blog site at:

http://jennifferwardell.blogspot.com/ 

 

 

She has an awsome blog and I would recommend it to everyone.  Well, here's what I writed about:

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is the technical name for what we laymen refer to as a “split personality”.  It is a controversial diagnosis with some experts believing it is not real, or maybe even therapist induced.  (Isn’t Wikipedia wonderful?)  I bring this up, because I sometimes believe I may have a form of DID, though I have never seen a therapist.  (I was going to say, “Where is the fun of having a mental disorder if you get it fixed?” but then I worried that someone with a real mental disorder would be offended, and yes, I think that people with mental disorders are the most likely to be reading my stuff.  Whatever.)

 

When I’m writing, I sometimes believe that I have multiple personalities within me, all battling to get out, or at least take control of the writing process.  And, most of these personalities, wait, no, all of these personalities are younger than me; healthier than me; and without a doubt, thinner and better looking than me.  The sixteen year old personality is especially keen to take over.  He must not have caught a look of me in the mirror yet.

It is from these disparate and distinct personalities that I form the characters that I write about in my novels.  To some extent or another, everyone I write about, or maybe I should say, everyone I write for is deep down inside my id somewhere. (Damn, I am esoteric!)  So, when I write about different people I am really just writing about some part of myself.  I am the young, good looking, high school football star Cal; and I am also the middle aged, overweight, balding, mean and obnoxious Mr. Samuel. (Both characters from Pitch Green.)

In real life, I am not young or good looking, but neither am I mean or balding.  I’m only a little obnoxious.  But both of these characters are inside of me, and I only need to bring them out and put them in the story to write about them.  I am not writing about people I observe, though I love to observe other people.  I am writing about myself.  No matter how different or unique each character is from the others, I’m there.

Of course, this begs the question: “What about the female characters you write about?”  (My sons will all stop reading this right exactly at this point.)  If I were really cool, and politically correct, I would claim to have female personalities along with the male personalities.  But I am only cool, not politically correct, and no matter how deep you look inside of me, you will not find a woman, or even any woman-type being.  My wife will confirm this.

This does not mean I cannot write for the women I write about.  Women are people, (that sounds so patronizing) and we overlap enough as people that I don’t have a problem writing from a woman’s perspective.  That is, as long as I have women, like my wife and daughters, who read what I write and tell me when I have it wrong.

This means, analogous with the way I write for the guys, when I write for women, I am looking out of their eyes at the world that is being created for them.  So, if I’m not part woman, (and there are a few bullies from my high school days who would claim that I am), the women that I write about are part me.  (I told you I was esoteric.)

The way this works, evidently, is that the guys I write for are all looking out my eyes as I write for them, but as I write for the women, I am the one looking out of their eyes.  Weird, huh?  But, that is the way it works, and for me, it works pretty well.

Whether or not this means I have DID, I don’t know, though it is probably indicative of a need to at least go to therapy.  Yea, well, I’m still not going.  Why mess with all those extra personalities?  I need them when I’m developing new characters.  After all, that’s how I write.

 

BLOGGING

Well, it's time to do another blog.  This blogging is an interesting thing, and I mean "interesting" in the same way I do when I compliment some kind of food I find unpleasant, (and I mean unpleasant in the same way your doctor does when she says something is going to be unpleasant but it is really, . . . you know what I mean).

I've always imagined that bloggers are the type of people that corner you next to the refreshment table at a party and go on and on about some insignificant point in their lives as if that point were actually worth talking about.  As long as the salsa is decent and the chips hold out I can pretend to give a damn, but I certainly wouldn't make the effort to go to their blog site, (or is it "cite"?) to read about the same thing.

It's not that I don't think my life is interesting, I do, I just don't expect other people to have the same opinion because I certainly don't think most other people's (or is it "peoples'") lives are very interesting.  (Though, honestly, they may in fact be unpleasant.)

So, what do I blog about?  If anyone was reading this he or she could give me some suggestions.  I could blog about the Lakers, because I am a big Laker fan.  But, first, there are literally a zillion Laker blogs.  (No, seriously, go count them and you will find exactly one zillion Laker blogs).  And, second, everyone who is not a Laker fan hates the Lakers and would therefore stop reading this blog.  (No, seriously, go count everyone who is not a Laker fan.)

I could blog about politics, because I love to talk about politics.  But Berk, my older and taller brother, and the other half of "The Brothers Washburn" doesn't want me to.  Not yet anyway.  He's afraid I will offend someone, and to be truthful, I would be disappointed if I didn't.  (And so, by the way, Obama is not a socialist.  He is very liberal, but that does not make him a socialist.  Buy a freakin' dictionary.)

And there you have it.  I have spent the last several paragraphs writing about having nothing to write about.  If that doesn't give me some writer's cred nothing will.  If anyone is reading this, give me an idea of something to write about.  If I can't say something interesting, maybe I can say something unpleasant.  Or, at least, maybe I can offend someone.

WRITING

This writing business is an interesting thing.  I thought I used to write for a living.  For twenty-five years I was a trial attorney, which means I did more writing that actual trialing, (made up word, I know, that's a prerogative of writers).  So for twenty-five years I did technical writing with a persuasive bend to it.  Writing fiction is completely different.

Before I would spend at least half my time, if not more, researching and outlining what I was going to write.  I know a lot of fiction writers do the same style, that is, research and outline before the actual story goes down.  But I'm doing it differently.  We have created some great characters, and I'm just kind of letting these character find their way.

I do have a general idea of the plot that is going forward, but I am really discovering the book as I write it, which is kind of fun, but also kind of hard.  Some days I don't get anywhere at all, and some days whole chapters come to me at once.

I'm hoping that by going back to Trona, for a visit, that I'll be inspired as to what my characters in the book will be doing.

I have discovered that creativity is an elusive creature.  Sure, I've always been kind of crazy, not dangerous, (most of the time), just a little crazy, and certainly being crazy helps with the creative process.  But there is more to it.  With the crazy there has to be a little structure, a little substance that holds the whole thing together.  Being an attorney taught me about structure and substance.  Being crazy just came naturally.  Combining the two in a meaningful way, ah, that's the tricky part.

Hopefully it works.