Scalpel work.

Hello and welcome, reader.

There are desperate men about, and times are hard for sane ones, but just as pirates chase freedom and make no bones, so writers chase stories and leave no doubts.

And for a change in these parts, today’s note is about the craft of writing.

For those who’ve been around me a while, you know it’s a topic I try my best to avoid. That’s because, as I’ve said many times, I think it takes an arrogant prick to write, and a pretentious one to blab about it. And I feel the same way about each of the ‘look-at-me’ gigs I’ve practised in my time, so don’t get your writer’s panties in a knot.

This one, then, is for those needing to confirm or deny what’s going on within the pages of my various novels. Either before or after reading them. But as is usual with these posts, it’s mostly a look inside the writer’s melon.

Anyway, as far as I know, work is joyful only for those who love doing it. And I’m one of those sonsabitches lucky enough to love doing what he does, too. So, I try not to brag about it. Because I know everyone isn’t so lucky. And I was raised not to crow.

But I‘ve surely loved my work. Not only that, but since taking up with the pen, I’ve spent far too much time studying the craft instead of writing, as well. I began writing as a child, you see, and made my earliest attempts at poems and stories by age seven. Through my school years and into early adulthood, I was only rarely published, but wrote on most days that found me sober enough to do it.

Then, and for many years after getting off the bottle, I struggled with it, working mostly at night or on weekends. In those days, constant failure meant resigning myself to the drudgery of a nine-to-five routine. Sadly, I could not tame the terrible urge to pursue my dreams. And so, I’ve been forced to live by them since giving up the safety of a well-paid straight life decades ago.

Because of which, most times, you find a party carrying on here, and not so much as one note of surrender. But this is old news, you say. And rightly, too. For once again, I digress.

The craft. That which I’ve chased since childhood. Nowadays, printed on the pages of the novels published in these later years of my life’s long pursuit. Yet even now, I’m not sure if my take on it is clear enough for those who might wonder about such things. That’s despite staying true to a small and repeating set of themes, motifs, and symbols throughout my work.

Of course, to the writer, it’s plain.

Here, within my craft, recurring motifs have been a lifelong focus. Some say to the detriment of the work. Well, that’s because I long ago committed to the literary concept of a suite of unifying themes and symbols around which to build my fiction.

Along with an interconnected worldview and shared characters, motifs help create a literary and emotional link between the novels. Likewise, those based on culture, weather, travel, drinking and gambling often reoccur, and figure greatly in my novels to support their mood and concept.

Yet another fancy literary trick used here is called leitwortstil, which means to repeat a word or phrase throughout a novel to support a concept or theme. Though sometimes confused with a hangover from my years of songwriting, it’s another often used technique found in my novels.

Not only a hard device to master, but a subtle tool to appreciate, leitwortstil is perhaps better at supporting concepts than making statements. And, for better or worse, a sharp eye soon reveals my regular use of it.

When it comes to symbols, meanwhile, I’ve been criticized for either playing too subtle, or going overboard. Once again, however, my approach to them is based on supporting the concept of unifying themes that drive my fiction.

Among others, in my novels, these often include things like nature, home, dogs, cars, boxing, baseball, and music. Beyond their utility as plot devices, symbols are also used to reinforce and support themes found within my fiction.

When speaking of themes, however, my novels often take the reader on a dark ride. While leavened with a particular style of noir humor, I’ve been told, too many times, that few others share the author’s weird sense of ha-ha.

But thematic concerns receive great effort, here. Among others, concepts like good versus evil, the birth/death/rebirth cycle, patriarchy, and universal racism are touched upon. While statements about things like the question of science versus religion, the battle between the individual and society, and the dangerous power of love, are also made. I think each adds texture and depth to my novels.

Because to me, the best fiction shows life as it was. It’s where we share our philosophy and store the memory of our many people’s history. And it’s why writers use themes, motifs, and symbols, and sometimes, even leitwortstil. To better speak not only between the lines but also across the ages.

Around here, when writing, it most often feels like I’m losing parts of myself unknown to me. If not, it must be the actual pieces of my mind. I wonder often, too, nowadays, if it’s not a form of what many Indigenous peoples in places around the world believe, and the words are part of whatever makes up the man writing them down.

I know there seems less of me, afterwards, than there was before starting. Every time I do it, too. Though, and sadly, it doesn’t seem to be the kind of stuff that shows up on a scale. Of course, it’s also true I feel that way about most things. As I’ve said here and elsewhere, many times before, whatever we are, that’s what we spend living.

By now, I’ve done a share of it, too. And mostly, I’ve loved the one I led. Despite never quite living up to the expectations placed upon me by either myself or others. It’s been tremendous fun. No matter the number of lumps taken along the way. Not only that, but I’m good with all of it, too.

Mistakes? I made far more than my share of them. However, I’ve also either made or offered amends to those who had them coming. Decades ago, in most cases, but lately, too, in others. Though plainly, some chose not to accept them. C’est la vie, friends. Because, as I see things, the job here is holding up my end, and that’s all.

Thus, like any pirate captain worth his salt, I accept only absolute loyalty. Despite a well-earned rep as an uncompromising mofo. And to those that keep it go the spoils. Sometimes we win, and others we don’t, but together we sail, and share alike in whatever the voyages bring.

For though often ruthless, mostly cold as ice, reputed to be mainly faithless, and claimed to sometimes be untrue even to myself, I tend to stick with those that stuck with me. You can check the liner notes, and the too-rarely published acknowledgements, to see for yourself. It’s a wild bunch and a small circle.

I owe everything to those people, and the luckiest man is me.

And now, to reward your patience with me, a secret. Nowadays, I think of you in a similar sort of way, reader. But a little different, too, so don’t panic. Anyway, if anyone asked me, I’d say it’s complicated. Because I’m a weird man who makes weird stuff, lives a weird lifestyle, and has a weird way of thinking about a weird bunch of things. And I don’t want to tar anyone else with such a weird brush.

But you’re here. In a small but slowly growing number, most times. Which makes me think we must share at least a few weirdness-es. Is that a word? I’m not sure. But as it’s now been added to the dictionary of the word processor here, you know what I’ve decided.

Let’s call it more of my weird.

Here’s another example of it. With third draft revisions now complete, there’s a new TFP novel on the way. Once a few weeks of editing, proofreading, artwork, setup, and distribution details are taken care of, that is. And yes, after putting in another six weeks of scalpel work on the latest manuscript, I’m whipped, in case you’re wondering.

But pleased and relieved and excited, too.

After a little time to put my head back together, I’ll get to work on that list of remaining tasks. I’ll also keep you posted here regarding a publishing date, and pre-release ordering information, too.

      Thanks for being here. And for sharing this with anyone you think might be weird enough to enjoy reading it.

-                          -  TFP  

             January 28, 2023