…but it has come up in the conversation lately. As Louis Armstrong said, you say tomato, we say tomahto; you say we’re lazy, we say we’re pacing ourselves.  

This comes to mind today because a friend of ours has decided to train for an ultramarathon. Actually, when he first brought this up, he called it an “ultra”. We didn’t know what he meant. Ultra soft? Ultra delicious? Finally, we were forced to turn to one of our top level internet resources (Wikipedia) and discovered this: “An ultramarathon (also called ultra distance) is any sporting event involving running and walking longer than the traditional marathon length of 42.195 kilometres.”
 
42.195 kilometres = 26.2188 miles. Double those numbers and you'll see how far our chum wants to race. Call it, ultra x 2.

We found this whole thing fascinating because our friend is on the high end of middle-aged and didn’t appear particularly suicidal until now. For the next six months, our buddy shared on Facebook and, thus, the world, he plans to sacrifice a good portion of his free time to preparing for the event. If his heart doesn’t explode, he then plans to go into the mountains, motor along on his own legs for 52 miles, and see if he survives.
 
What’s more, he’s looking for people to do this with him.

His request came to us in a roundabout way. When it did, we didn’t actually say, “Hahahahahahaha!” but each of us thought it. If our friend happens to directly ask us if we’re interested in training with him, we’ll tell him we’re much too busy writing. We’ll imply that we have to finish our latest novel(s) before we ascend over a mile above sea level and get eaten by bears.

Just between you and us, a writer's secret: Sometimes, when a wordsmith just wants to be left alone to eat chocolate pudding and watch Ripper Street, the writer will tell people she has to focus to get back to working on her latest novel.

So how is our writing coming along?, you might ask. Well, since it’s you, we’ll tell you true: We’re pacing ourselves. All the great ones do.

Except for Cassandra Parkin. Since C.P. was wonderfully supportive of us and The Atheist’s Daughter (when much of the world flinched whenever we said the title), we always think of her fondly. We also keep half an eye on her writing career. Which is how we learned that
she’s been quite prolific. In the last eighteen months or so, she’s written a collection of themed stories, New World Fairy Tales, won the Scott Prize, wrote three hilarious reader guides to the 50 Shades trilogy, and -- just recently -- mentioned that her newest novel, The Summer We All Ran Away, will be released shortly by Legend Press.

You'd think she'd have sent us a free copy but no, so, without reading it, we assume her story will be life-affirming and meaningful and touching and wonderful. Or possibly dark and depressing but still touching and wonderful. We mean this sincerely. Her New World collection is terrifically good, and her reader guides are really funny, so we know her newest novel will be amazing. We suspect the storyline won't involve werewolves or vampires, angels or shape-shifting garage mechanics, so it may struggle to find an audience… but the good guys win on occasion so we have our fingers crossed for her.

Won't we be surprised if we discover the new novel is all about shape-shifting werewolf angels who want nasty sex with garage mechanics?

Because of her prodigious output, we suspect that C.P. is becoming another Stephen King or Isaac Asimov, unable to get through the day without drumming out a quick 15,000 words on the word processor. If so, good luck to her and we'll continue to follow her career. Our average literary output? 500-1000 words on a good day. On a really good day, 1500 words. We haven’t had any really good days of late.

Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have to get back to working on our latest novel.

…and he’s an author, and a playwright, and a thinker of thinks. You don’t have to take our word for it. He uses those same words on his website.

Anyone who bills himself as a thinker of thinks has a sense of humor and, a few weeks ago, we started searching for someone who knew how to laugh.  Most importantly, we wanted someone (a) with a sense of humor; who was (b) sane; and (c) willing to review self-published writing.

There are very few people who meet these standards. Here’s why: If you’re sane, why in God’s name would you ever offer to review self-published writing?

There’s no upside to it. If a reviewer is honest and loves a piece, everyone will dismiss what they’ve written because, hey, the thing was self-published. How good can it be? If the reviewer is honest and hates a piece, he or she will get nothing but grief from the author and the author’s fans. (This won’t happen with us, though. In order to develop an aggressive fan base, you have to have fans.)

There was nothing on his website to suggest that P.C. had stripped a few gears so we asked if he’d review Frankenstein, P.I.  The tale has sold a few copies here and there, but no one has ever shared their opinion with the world at large. We love our story and think it’s funny but we also think Crank: High Voltage is hilarious so our taste is more than a little suspect.

We just wanted some input. Good, bad, or indifferent, we’d decided that even a bad review would be less depressing than no reviews. In hindsight, we’ve decided we could be wrong about that last sentiment, by the way. We could be very, very wrong.

After we emailed Paul, looking for a review, he wrote back to ask if Frankie was really, truly polished and in shape for a review. This is not something a reviewer typically asks an author unless that author is also his own publisher. Clearly, P.C. had already been exposed to the indie world and he’d learned to ask a few questions.

When the review went live a couple of days ago, all he said was, Here’s the review! with a link attached. He didn’t say if he loved the story or if he hated it so, naturally, we realized he despised our words and wanted us to die. Even before we read his thoughts, we knew we wanted to use our experience for a blog post so we asked him why, exactly, he was willing to review self-published writing.

This is what he told us: “I spent a few years reviewing theatrical productions while living in Chicago, and I really love it. I think reviewers can be such a fascinating, useful part of the process (as long as the reviewer is knowledgeable and fair). I’ll also admit that it’s a selfish thing: I’m currently writing a novel. Authors, readers, and anyone else who is picking up my review or your book would be a part of the community. When my novel comes out, I don’t want anyone to ask, ‘Well, why should I pick it up? What has the guy done for anyone?’ I want them to know that I’ve got the authority to write a novel because I read and love literature of all kinds. And finally…hey, free books!”

We get the “free books” thing but, on reflection, this really makes us look bad. Unlike Mr. Cosca, we don’t read and love literature of all kinds. (Ulysses by James Joyce? The Modern Library ranked it #1 on its list of the 100 best English-language novels of the 20th century. Renee threatened to stab herself in the eye if she had to finish reading it.) Plus, we haven’t done all that much for all that many people but, please note, we did put two quarters and a nickel in the March of Dimes jar last year.

Since our initial question was a bust, we tried to relate with Paul on a more personal level. Writer-to-writer, we asked him if he had any “forgotten treasures” hidden inside his word processor. You know, works that he’d written but that had been ignored by the world around him. Kind of like, y’know, Frankie.

He said, “The first full length play I wrote was an adaption of Christopher Marlowe’s Faust.” We had to stop him there. We’re trying to connect with the guy but, seriously, FAUST? He adapted a masterpiece, written during Shakespeare’s time, filled with subtext and riddled with blank verse? This was his hidden gem?

“I did a reading of it that was well-received,” Paul told us. “It had a lot of really great moments and some serious potential. But in the end, it will take a full rewrite to get it done.”

But, once he rewrites it, it’s going to be this hot action piece, The Faust and the Furious, where Police Officer Brian O’Conner has to make a deal with the Devil, as played by Vin Diesel –

“No.”

And that’s because his version is actually a lighthearted romantic comedy, 50 Faust Dates, where commitment-phobe Henry Roth meets the Devil, as played by Drew Barrymore –

“No.”

As it turns out, P.C. might like to laugh but he’s just a more serious writer than either member of our team. Always has been, probably always will be.

But can a thinker of thinks enjoy the nonsense that is Frankenstein, P.I.?  His review is here.

...and we're guessing you don't, either.
 
We were having a very good day yesterday until, suddenly, it wasn't good at all.
 
Our thoughts and hearts and sympathies go out to everyone who was affected by the terribleness in Boston.  Which is, really, all of us.
 
So, so sad.

...even if we're not.
 
Instead of prepping our post for today, we spent yesterday traveling. A beloved family member has recently passed away and, while we couldn't be at the memorial, we could be with Renée's Mom while the service was being held. Family clings to family in sad times and we were clinging.
 
It was a wonderful time to be together but it meant we had to travel a lot of miles in a very short time. The trip back wasn't easy. If there was a High Wind Advisory, we missed it but the winds were fierce. When the traffic in front of us started braking abruptly, we knew something was wrong.
 
A minute later, we were creeping past an overturned tractor trailer. From what we could see, it had blown over. There are some days when owning a small car is not a bad thing.
 
You'll notice we failed to get a picture of the big rig. Caught off-guard, we never thought to reach for a cell phone. No, we only remembered to use our cell's camera after we stopped at a gas station in the middle of the desert. In the center of abso-frickin'-nowhere. The image on the left is what resulted.
 
In the Men's Bathroom, Harrell found this sign taped over the urinal: OUT OF ORDER  DO NOT USE. In case this wasn't quite clear enough, the staff had helpfully added, That means no p*ssing in here. 
 
And -- here's the part that caused the photo to be snapped -- below that, just letting the management know he, personally, had received the message, one of their patrons wrote in, OK, before signing it... Steve. So, if anyone does ignore the warning, we can pretty well be assured it isn't Steve.

Somehow all of the above resulted in our finding an article in Business Insider called I Used the Worst Men's Bathroom in America. And we're sharing it with you.

...and sometimes the shark catches you. That's the secret subtext in Dean Koontz' How to Write Best Selling Fiction (his possibly outdated instruction manual, since it was published 30+ years ago and is currently out-of-print. That's okay, we're going to share the skinny with you before this post is over).
 
Although it could be that there isn't any secret subtext in the Koontz' book and we just wanted an excuse to post this photo.
 
Courtesy of Mr. Koontz and his , we learned that a writer has to plant his or her butt in the chair and actually write. This is the part of the process we struggle with; it's much more fun to plant our widening butts in the chair and eat cheesecake. Even though DK's success rings the register at 25 million dollars a year (or more), he still puts in the hours. Presumably a centimillionaire, he's at the word processor daily, making magic.
 
We have considerably fewer financial resources than him. However, we're willing to bet that we've eaten considerably more cheesecake than this wealthy, wealthy man. We also suspect, when he's in the twilight of his career and richer than Midas, he'll still be at the word processor, writing his next novel. As he shouts at Gerda to bring him his Malt-O-Meal, we'll be at the Cheesecake Factory, enjoying a slice of their GODIVA® Chocolate Cheesecake.
 
Truly, at that moment, who will be the richer?
 
You'd be mistaken to think the Best Selling Fiction book didn't offer more advice and in an entertaining fashion. From the start, we learned we needed to put care and craftsmanship into our work. We were advised to remain humble -- we're, like, the best writers ever at being humble -- and we were admonished to concentrate on our storytelling. Also, DK believes that all writers should be open to change.
 
So far, so good. Nothing startling but some solid advice. We soon discovered that writers need to “read, read, read” as well as “write, write, write”. We found out that exotic titles can excite the imagination and that a strong title is a good thing. We were not surprised to discover that the plot of a story is important and we were not shocked to learn that it's a good trick to catch a reader’s attention from the get-go.

Again, there was nothing wrong with any of this...but nothing that shouted "This is it! This is how you move up to Best Seller!", either. Since so much of what we read just seemed to be basic, common sense, we wondered if people maybe didn’t know this stuff back in 1981. Was there a school of thought that suggested that writers shouldn’t read or that most novels didn’t require a plot? Was there a famous writing instructor who insisted, adamantly, that no one cared about titles or that it was an amateur move to grab a reader’s interest?

We also wondered if we should have used this space to suggest that it was going to be easy to write a best selling novel. A bit impatiently, we started skimming through the book. There was more advice to follow.
 
Put action in your book? Yes! Too much action? No! Create believable characters? Check! (Also, the hero needs to be kind to animals and brush his/her teeth regularly. Not kidding.) The villain's motivation? It needs to make sense. The hero's motivation? It needs to make sense.
 
Do some research. Punctuate properly. Put a little style in your writing. Oh, and science fiction and mystery are “literary ghettos” but some writers can still make a buck if they enter the ghetto cautiously.

Toward the end of the thing, DK goes into contracts and advances and agents. Some of the info is understandably dated and some of it is simply depressing. For instance, the book advance he quotes for a new writer is still accurate today. Throughout the book, he samples freely from his own work, he provides his thoughts on other writers (he likes Stephen King but King failed to end THE STAND properly; he likes Ken Follett but Follett did lazy plotting on THE KEY TO REBECCA ), and, at the end of the day, we feel that his advice is certainly worth more than the money we spent on the book.
 
But we still hadn’t found the key that would turn our next project into a Big Money Success. Nor will we. In zipping through the incidentals, we missed this: “I cannot give you a magic formula that will guarantee you success as a novelist.”
 
Ah. Well, yes. Of course.  It all goes back to giving your book a good title, doesn't it? How to Write a Decent Novel That Might Someday Sell Well wouldn't exactly grab the crowd now, would it?
 
It would still be worth our twenty-five cents, though.