Cast children’s stories exclusively with orphans

Standing outside the rhinoceros enclosure, Billy tried to hide his distress from his friends. It was in just such an enclosure that his parents had died when he was only four years old. He could still see the rhino’s breath hanging in the cold air as they clung to one another in fear. Of course, they had actually died from the effects of the virulent plague they carried whilst the rhino was distracted by the arrival of a pair of unfortunate parachutists – his best friend Suzie’s parents, as it turned out. They had been gored to death by the rhino whilst, in the sky far above, the plane they had jumped from exploded in mid-air, killing the pilot and co-pilot, who were his friend Nate’s mum and dad respectively.

‘You okay, Bill?’ asked Suzie, laying a hand gently on his shoulder.

‘Yeah,’ said Billy. ‘Just... you know.’

‘Yeah,’ said Nate, looking wistfully at the clouds above them. Just then, Naomi came back from the toilet, grinning broadly.

‘My parents should be here to pick us up soon,’ she said cheerily. ‘I love coming to the zoo.’

‘Shut up, Naomi,’ said Billy.

Make your villain genuinely evil

With thanks to my talented wife, who not only had this idea first, but executed it better.

Lord Plunderfall threw his head back and laughed.

‘Bwa ha ha ha! Your attempts to escape only serve to amuse me.’ He waved a hand towards the children and armed guards emerged from the shadows.

‘Why are you doing this?’ said Freddie.

‘Why?’ said Lord Plunderfall. ‘You ask me why? Well, the answer is quite simple. I seek to destroy the entire world because I am pure evil and wish nothing more than the death of all humanity. Bwa ha h...’

‘Really?’ interrupted Bertha. ‘That’s it? Because that seems a bit improbable.’

‘Improbable?’ thundered the dark figure uncertainly.

‘Yes,’ said Freddie. ‘It’s not all that convincing as a motive. I mean, if you destroy the entire world, where will you live?’

‘I...’ Plunderfall hesitated. ‘Never you mind. I am a force of pure malignancy and I shall tear apart the very...’

‘And if you kill everyone in the world,’ said Bertha, ‘where will you get your food from? Are you going to run your own farm? Is having a smallhold part of your masterplan?’

‘I don’t...’ He seemed to be sweating under his metal mask. ‘That is...’ Freddie shrugged.

‘It just doesn’t seem like you’ve thought it through, you know?’

‘Exactly,’ said Bertha. ‘And I’m sure there’s a more practical material you could have made that mask out of. I imagine the metal edges really chafe.’

Refuse to resolve mysteries

As the train shuddered to a halt, I lifted myself from the seat and once again examined my ticket. The printed destination remained smudged beyond legibility.

‘We haven’t gone where we were going, you know,’ said a voice from behind me. I whirled around. No one. As I backed carefully out of the carriage, I felt my shoes pinching at my feet. I looked down.

‘These aren’t my shoes,’ I muttered. As I had slept, someone must have changed them. But who, and to what purpose? Across the toe of each shoe was an inscription in a language I could not read – the same language, I quickly realised, that the menu in the disappearing restaurant had been written in. If only I had known the proprietor’s name. As I approached the train’s door, I caught a shadow of my own reflection in the darkened window. I had an inexplicable bruise above my left eye in the exact shape of the Rorschach blot which had set me off on this journey to begin with. I looked closer. It was hard to tell, but it looked like my eyes were blue instead of brown. Also, upon closer inspection, I was now a woman. I blinked. It took only a fraction of a second, but in the space of that blink, I suddenly understood the nature of memory and realised that I would never die.

I wish I could explain to you, dear reader, where I had found myself and what happened next, but for reasons I am unable to divulge, I must say no more. Farewell, my friends, farewell.

How to Start a Law Firm | Highrise Review

If you haven't started your law firm yet, I'll let you in on a little secret. The hard part isn't getting started, the hard part is managing the firm when you start to get really busy. And, I'll be honest with you, if you do the stuff that I've been talking about here, particularly with respect to law firm internet marketing, you will be busy.

See, when you start to get busy, then you have to be organized. You have to have a system in place to make sure you don't forget anything. And, trust me, you'll forget something a few times before you really get serious about putting a system in place (I know from personal experience).

For me, part of that system is managing my case load, managing my contacts, and managing what happens every day with my clients. I was looking for a place where I could store all of my information in an online "case" file and have it accessible to me (and eventually my staff) anywhere I was. And, I wanted a way to be able to look at a case at any time and immediately know what was happening, what had happened in the past, and what was next.

The firm I rent space has something like that set up. I can't remember what it's called, but I know it is extremely expensive. I wanted something like that, but something that didn't require a network, or IT people, or any big learning curve (remember, starting a law firm is your chance to streamline whatever you want to do). And then I found Highrise, which is set up to do all of the things I've said.

I only signed up for Highrise last week, but I can already sense that it's something I'm going to use for a long time. First, it's really easy to use. Second, it can do all of the things I need it to do (see above for a rundown). And third, it's set up in a way that I can add users as I add staff to only a minimal increase in expenses (I think for up to 15 people it's only $50/month).

One of the coolest things about Highrise is that you can set it up so that people can leave notes on a particular case, and everyone can see them. You can also attach documents, create tasks, and calendar important dates. It's a great way to create an electronic "case file" that anyone can then use.

The important part for me now, and for you, is to come up with a system to handle every file and every case so that everything is done the same - efficiently, effectively, and so when you hire someone new they can learn the system. And to do this, you need to write everything down, step by step.

I know, I know, it sucks. And it takes a lot of time. And it takes a little tweaking every now and then. But trust me, when you start to get busy, you are going to wish you had something set up to manage the information you are receiving on a daily basis, to manage the cases you have going, and to set up new ones.

If you have some time, take a look at Highrise. If you're starting a law firm you don't have to necessarily go there first, but it's definitely a great tool to check out.

A Sneaky Way to Bring Joy Back to Your Writing

Albert Camus said a wonderful thing about why we write or paint or dance or make music: "A person's life purpose is nothing more than to rediscover, through the detours of art, or love, or passionate work, those one or two images in the presence of which his heart first opened."

Many readers emailed or posted their reactions to the balance of practice and love in the writing life.  One, a creative buddy, shared her efforts with a writing project that has flatlined.


She is in despair because it wasn't fun anymore, and wasn't creative work supposed to be fun?  After all, this wasn't her "regular" job, which she expected to be less than incredible.  This was her art.

We talked about the stage she was at with the project.  It's a series of short pieces, and she's written all of them and revised numerous times.  But now she's got a publishing date and she's having to go back and look at all of these creative children, ask herself if she's comfortable sending them out into the world.  She isn't.  Not yet.

So once more, back to revision.  And it isn't fun.  Shouldn't it be?

We were taking a walk, talking about this creative dilemma.  I told her I was in the middle of two books, and the fun was quite sporadic at this stage.  I've drafted both, one is at final edit and the other at middle-stage revision (read:  fifth or sixth time through).  I'm seeing tremendous holes everywhere and much of my time is spent silently berating myself for thinking it was ever any good.  But I also know this stage is much like a slog through thick mud.

As we spoke of this, a look of intense relief came over her face.  She said, "You mean it's OK that it's not full of joy for me right now?"

"I'd be worried if it was," I said.  I was teasing her, but also serious.  If the writing process is always nonstop joy, I often wonder if it's really talking to anyone but me.  It takes work to stand back from the magnificence of your project, to get the detachment you need to see it from a viewer's (reader's) eyes.  That standing back is hard for writers; it made up much of the slog I was currently going through.

Switching Points of View--Literally and Otherwise
We finished our walk and went about our days.  I had benefited from our conversation; my chapters took a completely new turn that afternoon.  One chapter of my novel-in-progress was a scene about the aftermath of an accident.  The mother has the accident, the scene is written from the daughter's point of view.  But it wasn't really furthering the plot to put the mother in harm's way once again--poor woman, she's already had so much happen to her in 20 chapters.  After the walk and talk, I got the radical idea:  switch the accident, make it the daughter's crisis, write the aftermath from the mother's point of view.  Same plot points, different person having the experience, different point of view in the chapter.

It worked.  I tried it on another chapter too.  Wow.  Loved it.  Had fun.  The slog was gone, I was flying high.  And remembering why I enjoy all this, anyway.

Where did that idea come from, to switch like that?  I think from our talk, from the reminder to not look toward the process as a good time had by all.

Later I heard from my creative buddy.  "I found it again!" she said.

"Found what?"

"The joy.  It came back!"  She went on to explain that just because she didn't expect it to be all wonderful, a bit more wonderful had leaked in during the afternoon.  She was working on one of the pieces and found herself playing with a new idea.  Just like I had--only we hadn't talked about it beforehand.  For her, it was really fun, a completely different avenue than she'd taken before.  Not much change required except an attitude shift and suddenly things were fun again.  She shared the piece with me and it had indeed taken a leap.  Much more complex, more interesting, more uplifting too.

I could feel the joy in it now.

So this is the conundrum, isn't it.  When we're not looking, not trying so hard to get the joy, it sneaks in again.  When we let go of having to have it as part of the creative process 100 percent of the time, it sneaks in again.  Sounds like a plan, doesn't it?

This Week's Writing Exercise
1.  Take a walk, preferably with someone who is also working on a creative project.
2.  Journal or talk about the slog and the joy--what stage are you in?  Maybe talk about the Camus quote at the beginning of this post.  What moment did you start wanting to write, to create?  What image are you remembering when your heart first opened?
3.  When you come back to your writing, try something radical.  Switch something around.  Reverse what you planned.  See what happens when you try this.  More fun?  A little less slog?  A little more joy?

Write yourself out of a corner

(With thanks to my ever-inventive commenters)

The sirens had started blaring as soon as the Chieftain had left the cell. A few moments after that, tendrils of thick, green gas had begun to snake under the door. However, Dash was aware of none of this. As soon as the door had closed behind his captor, he had begun the mental and physical process needed to put himself into the Trance of All-Being, an ancient secret taught to him by his mysterious Space-Zen master on the hidden ice planet of Bhulfhughugt. This trance would free him from the necessity of breathing, instead allowing him to re-metabolise the oxygen within his body for up to an hour.

Next, he formed a vivid mental image of his fifth birthday, a process which generated the unique combination of brainwaves required to activate the bio-integrated quantum communications implant that nestled deep in his hypothalamus. The nanotech circuitry instantaneously sent a burst of coded data tunnelling through non-space to the paired receiving unit, fifty parsecs away. Now he had broadcast his position, help was on its way.

That just left the diamond compound walls and deadly forcefields beyond. Taking a moment to channel the never-adequately-explained power of his Space-Zen abilities, Dash sensed a complex, syncopated rhythm in the electromagnetic fields that permeated the cell. He placed one hand against the wall and breathed for a moment. Then, guided by the fluctuations of unseen forces, he rapped a seemingly random pattern with his fingertips. For a split second, the crystalline structures within the wall aligned perfectly with the pulsing of the forcefield, reflecting and focusing its power in such a way as to not only overload the field generators, but vaporise the wall itself. With a shower of sparks and a crackle of exploding neutrons, the cell was gone.

Dash sprinted down the corridor, deadly neurotoxin gas swirling around him. The door to the ship’s bridge opened as he approached. He combat-rolled through it. At the exact moment that he tumbled into the command centre, thirty heavily-armed Mhal-Evol’Unt warriors turning to face him, an explosion rocked the warship. Through the plumes of smoke and a newly-torn gash in the ship’s hull, Dash saw the familiar figure of Fumblebot, his adorable robot sidekick.

‘Well, gentlemen, this is my ride,’ he said, waving one hand at his alien captors as he hurled himself through the haze of molten metal and into the waiting starfighter. With a whistle of friendly greeting, Fumblebot fired up the engines and they were away.

Write yourself into a corner

The Mhal-Evol’Unt Chieftan flexed its serrated mandibles and activated the translation panel before speaking.

‘Allow me describe now,’ the digitised voice rasped. ‘You trapped are completely.’ It stalked across the cell, its claws scratching against the metal floor like nails on a blackboard. Captain Dash Gallant, renowned hero of the Battle of Tor’Sang, smiled grimly.

‘Is that so?’ he said.

‘Fully correct,’ the translator said. ‘Walls containing you diamond compound are. Also forcefields beyond, instant death causing. Communications impossible. Negotiation impossible. Weapons, ship, equipment destroyed. No knowledge of your presence here has Earth Fleet. Moments away, entire ship with neuropoison gas fills, to which us immune, you vulnerable. Death certainty. To Gallant, Tor’Sang butcher criminal, farewell.’

‘For a cannibal lizard-insect space mutant, you say a hell of a goodbye,’ muttered Dash. The translator made a barking sound that might have been a laugh before the Chieftan turned and left the cell.

Dash examined his surroundings. The thing was right – escape would be impossible. Even if, by some miracle, he managed to get out of the cell, there would be nowhere to go that wouldn’t soon be flooded with deadly nerve gas. Beyond the warship, which had no escape pods, there was only the emptiness of fifty parsecs of space in every direction. His luck had finally run out, he realised. This was the end.

Rely on unsolicited submissions

(This comic version of a previous post was provided by Pippin Barr and I thought it was too good not to share.)

Be topical

Pete arrived home to find his wife watching the television.

‘Any news yet?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘The negotiations have finished and there’s a coalition government.’

‘So, the Conservatives and the Liberal Democrats finally did a deal, did they?’ He sat down on the sofa beside her. ‘That’s predictable news.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m just pleased it’s all over and there’s no risk of Gordon Brown being Prime Minister.’

’Yes,’ he said, switching off the TV. ‘I’m glad that someone’s in charge, even if it is David Cameron and, to a lesser extent, Nick Clegg. What this country needs right now is consensus leadership. Now, what about the World Cup draw? Who do you think are the favourites to win?’

‘Probably Brazil.’

‘Did you say Brazil?’

‘No, just Brazil.’

Does Practice Make Perfect--Or Even Contribute Significantly to Your Writing Goals?

It's gardening time in New England--despite the 20 degree weather we had last week that left my kale seedlings gasping--and I'm spending a lot of time out there. Soon my weekly teaching schedule will pick up again, leaving me little time to sit in the sun, so I'm getting my fingernails filthy now.

Gardening for me is a lot like writing. Both take tons of practice, trial and error, failure and misery. Both have some magnificent moments. If you're not into gardening, forgive this analogy, but for me plants and soil have taught me a lot about the practice of writing. The patience I need, the forgiveness of my own big bloopers, the times when I want to chuck it all and go work at McDonalds (not really).

I began gardening because three of my grandparents had the bug. My grandfather lived in Nyack, NY, right on the Hudson and he grew raspberry bushes and roses in a boxwood maze and flowers I could never hope to identify. We were both early risers. When I would visit, I could peer out my dormer window from bed and see him walking in the garden, so I'd get dressed fast and go out to join him. The raspberries were his precious spot. He pondered them like I ponder a chapter, scene, character.

My grandfather taught me to go slow with creating. It worked well to put in time, both fingernail filthy time (digging into the soil, feeling it, working it with your hands) and pondering time.

So that leads us to this week's topic: practice. Does it really make writing perfect? How does it contribute to real writing goals?



Practice--Becoming an Outlier
I went to my local library last week to catch up on reading. So many books on my list--and I sometimes find one on CD so I can listen in the car. I got a copy of Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers, a book that's been on the list for a while.

I admire Gladwell's ability with potentially dry subjects. He took the evolution of Hush Puppies and made it fascinating in his well-known book, The Tipping Point.  Outliers is about the phenomenon of success. What makes it works for some people, not for others.Even though they are equally brilliant, innovative, and determined.

Since I teach writers, and I see some succeed with their writing projects, while others do not, I'm interested in this. Gladwell's research is pretty thorough. So far, the book has listed two aspects of success.

One is coming from an environment that allows it--with time, resources, and mentors. A person who succeeds in their art, craft, sport, business, academic endeavors, has certain support systems naturally. A writer like J.K. Rowlings (Harry Potter books) is an exception (the folklore is that Rowlings crammed her writing between childcare, without any private writing space to speak of). So the first question is whether you have the system in place to support your writing project.

The second important aspect is practice. Gladwell cites 10,000 hours as the time it takes someone to get good at something. He gave a study of violinists who all started out as child prodigies; some became virtuosos and others didn't. Why? The researchers divided the violinists into three groups. The top group all had practiced a LOT more than the others. That was the only documentable difference.

So the second question is to ask yourself how much you practice your craft. How much do you allow yourself to just write.

Figure Out Where You Already Practice A Lot
Your passions will lead you naturally toward practice of the things you really love. And it'll also create space and support for these things you love. I know a woman who grows delphiniums. They aren't an easy plant in the north. She spends about fifty times more practice on her delphiniums than her writing. For her, it's a no-brainer. She really loves those plants, and it shows. By midsummer, she's created an awesome garden that gives a lift to everyone who drives or walks past.

Putting any small additional time, space, support into her creative life is much harder for her. Why? She hasn't gotten the love back from it in a long time. Those spiky purple flowers really give her back plenty of love, so it's easy to pour more of herself toward them. It isn't happening with the writing yet. So practicing her writing isn't as natural or easy. The passion isn't quite there.

When the passion leaves, the practice will be drudgery. So getting the love back means reconfiguring your approach. What is fun about the writing--do you even remember? I work with lots of writers who have lost the fun, and I recommend silly stuff. Freewrites. Writing without any Purpose. Get a copy of Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg or What If? by Pamela Painter and Anne Bernays. Do an exercise a day (short, 10 minute ones).

Get back the love. It'll help you get back to the routine of your writing practice, mostly because you'll remember again why you're doing it in the first place.

The goal is to get the routine of practice to be second-nature, just like the second-nature of caring for plants in spring, if you're a passionate gardener.
Eventually, if you're lucky, the practice will become so ingrained, it gives the love to keep itself going.

Several days this week, the birds were louder than the characters' voices in my head. I let myself drift toward peas and peonies instead of words on a page. It was like a freewrite, easier than my writing practice. I recharged with that easier love. I emailed a writing friend, my support system. I read a few poems for inspiration. I made some tea.

When I came back to the computer and tried the scene again, it was less of a battle.

Consider your practice this week. Consider your support systems. The exercise below lets you explore both. And hopefully increase the pay-off.


This Week's Writing Exercise
1. Read Outliers, if you want. It'll both excite and challenge you.

2. Find someone who is really good at their craft. Ask this person how much time they spend on it. Compare it to how much time you spend on your writing. Write down some thoughts about what you might commit, if you could, to increase your time each week.

3. Analyze your support systems. Do you have a mentor? Do you have space and privacy to write? Do you have the proper equipment (laptop, good writing materials, books about writing)? Do you have classes and ways to get better? Write some thoughts about what might make your writing support systems stronger.

Shamelessly plug your work

Dear readers,

I co-write a short film which is in the running for a National Film Board of Canada & Cannes Short Film Corner award. You can watch it here. I tell you this not only because I think you might enjoy seeing me try to write something that isn’t deliberately bad, but because I want you to vote for it by clicking ‘Like’ and I have absolutely no shame.

All the best,

Joel

Starting a Law Firm | Criminal Defense Addition

Starting a law firm is a lot of fun. And I think starting a criminal defense law firm is even more fun. First, the work is much more fun. Where else can you hear stories ranging from a fight for gold teeth to someone falling asleep at a poker table, getting dealt twice in a row, and then getting accused of cheating? No where else, that's where.

But, if you are going to go into criminal defense, you need to know a couple of things. It's possible to go out there and start a law firm right out of law school, but it's almost impossible to do it well. See, part of being a good criminal attorney is having the gumption (others would say balls) to stand up and say "f-you prosecutor, your offer sucks, and we're taking this to trial," when you know you have a shitty case. And it also just takes some good old fashioned experience.

There are several ways to get this experience, some more readily available than others. And, today is your lucky day, because I'm going to talk about them.

Criminal Attorney Experience | Watching

I probably learn more about how to be a great criminal lawyer from watching other people do it than any other way. Find out when motions dates are and find out when trial dates are of the good attorneys, and then go and watch them. You'll learn a ton.

Criminal Lawyer Experience | Trial by Fire

This is a great way to get experience. Just get in there and do it. When you open your firm there will be pro bono opportunities, conflict panel appointed counsel opportunities, and paying client opportunities to get out there and get to work. Just make sure you know your boundaries and don't get caught up in something you have no business doing.

Criminal Defense Experience | CLEs

I'm not talking about those CLEs people go to just to get there hours and get out of there. I'm talking about the substantive CLEs that teach you something about the law you are doing or about the craft that you have chosen to partake in.

For example, I'm a DUI attorney. I go to as many DUI CLEs as I can. I was recently certified in field sobriety testing (this means I've got the exact same training the cops get) and up next is probably breath test certification. And when the heavy hitters get together and talk about DUI, I make sure I show up.

I'm also a trial attorney, through and through. And trust me when I say this is a learned craft. You can never practice enough. In the last couple months I've taken two CLEs that were geared toward improving trial skills. And they were interactive. One made me about as uncomfortable as I've ever been (I had to give an opening statement to a "jury" and I couldn't move eye contact from one juror to the next without first touching that person - it was as awkward as it sounds) but made me a better trial attorney.

This is the kind of stuff that I'm talking about.

Criminal Defense Books

There is still something to be said for reading too. Every day I read 20 pages of the Washington State DUI manual, working my way from front to back and then starting all over again, and I read a chapter from the current marketing/practice book that I've got in my hands. Today on a whim I picked up The Best Defense by Alan Dershowitz, and I wish I'd picked it up years ago. He speaks plainly about what it really means to be a criminal defense attorney (for example, "almost all of my clients are guilty, but I don't care. I'm here to win. If they go free and kill someone it doesn't necessarily affect my conscience, much like it shouldn't affect a surgeon if he saves someone and then the patient goes out and kills someone"). Read it.

That's about it for this post, and the rules probably apply to whatever practice area you're going to focus on. There's a saying that being the best attorney in the world won't get you clients if you can't find them, but once you do find them you better know what you're doing.

NON-CONTIGUOUS HOMAGE FORTNIGHT #10: Try too hard to be The Bible

14. And so it was that the family of Pethuel came to a place which was not valley; nor was it mountain, nor forest, nor field. 15. In this place was a gathering. 16. The gathering was of many peoples, congregated there for purposes unknown, and so they did wait. 17. At this time, Pethuel joined with those who waited; a host which numbered seven times seven times seven and then three more who had just turned up, throwing the numbers off. 18. One of those who waited was Paul, who was the son of Daniel, who was the son of Peter, who was the son of David, who was the son of Enoch, whose father’s true name was forgotten, though his friends called him ‘Skipper.’ 19. They waited for ten days and seven nights, due to Paul losing count a couple of times. 20. After this time, Pethuel turned to the crowd and addressed them. “What exactly are we waiting for?” spake he. 21. And no man among them could say. 22. Seeing this, the family of Pethuel continued on their journey, saying to one another: “Well, that was a complete waste of time.”

NON-CONTIGUOUS HOMAGE FORTNIGHT #9: Try too hard to be P.G. Wodehouse

‘What what!’ bellowed Uncle Archibald Reginald Featherstone the Third, fifteenth Duke of Normington and Honourary Chair of the Haveringminster Cricket Association good-naturedly.

‘Archie!’ responded Peregrine St. John Psmythe, gallumphing guilelessly across the carefully threadbare carpet of the hallway of the Ingot Club for Gentlemen of Novel Opinions like a particularly rangy antelope in a brown tweed suit. ‘What what indeed, old fruit! How the devil?’ He pumped Archie’s hand with the vigour of a professional pump operator who, reinvigorated by a bracing round of redundancies amongst his colleagues and union-mates, has resolved to put his all into the execution of his pump-operating duties in the hope of staving off early retirement and, with it, the threat of more time to spend with his forthright and ebullient wife.

‘Perry, Perry, Perry,’ thundered Archie warmly, which was technically correct, although perhaps a touch too emphatic for the club’s older members, several of whom shifted restively beneath their newspaper pages like volcanos who are trying to sleep under the business section and keep being disturbed.

‘Archie!’ reiterated Peregrine, noticeably failing to move the conversation on.

‘Perry,’ repeated Archie, somewhat grudgingly this time.

‘Archie,’ said Peregrine. ‘How the devil? How the deuce are you? Archie, Archie, Archie. My old fruit. Uncle Archie.’ The silence which followed this stretched out like an elongated object of some kind described in unnecessary detail for comic effect.

NON-CONTIGUOUS HOMAGE FORTNIGHT #8: Try too hard to be H.P. Lovecraft

I fought my way up the sandy slope, trying desperately to keep my companion in view. Above the dune’s crest, I perceived a dull glow of light the colour of  which was a strange and unsettling shade of violet. Some force, unknown and ancient, called to me; I felt a rising of dull panic in my stomach. My companion, without so much as a momentary hesitation, crested the dune and disappeared from view; I knew at that moment that I would not see him again. Drawn further up the slope by impulses not quite my own, I scrambled breathlessly up the shifting sands before reaching a point where I could see, inch by painful inch, over the dune’s peak and onto the plateau below.

What I saw there, dear reader, submits itself not to description – not in any language known to man. From the centre of the thing, gelatinous tentacles splayed out in an untraceable knot of translucent flesh; they were coated in sand, as if the creature had been thrashing the very ground beneath it with furious wrath. In the centre of the writhing mass – God preserve me! – was a loathsome and glistening mound, composed of a material I knew not. It seemed at once living and not living – I fancied it was pulsing gently, but my own palpitations may have overwhelmed my perception. Step by horrified step, I retreated back down the dune, my mind fighting the sensation of numbing horror that now beset me. What manner of thing was that – from whence had it sprung and with what intention? As these and more questions clamoured in my mind, I became aware that I would carry the horror of what I had seen with me from that day forth.

It was the best trip to the beach ever and that’s what I did on my holidays.

NON-CONTIGUOUS HOMAGE FORTNIGHT #7: Try too hard to be Raymond Carver

The taxi arrives around midnight, then just sits outside with the engine running. I go downstairs and stand in the hallway, not wanting to turn on the light. I can feel the air moving around the house. A few doors are open, a few are closed.

Even though I can see it coming, the driver walking down the path and raising his hand, the knock on the door still manages to give me a kind of jolt. I don’t move. Maybe if I don’t move, he won’t see me. He waits a moment, the engine still running behind him. I haven’t even packed a bag. He knocks again, louder this time. I step up to the door and pull it open.

‘Taxi,’ he says. He’s a big guy, but not that big.

‘Nope,’ I say. We stand there for a few seconds. I look at him. He looks at me.

I’ve really got to stop prank-calling taxi companies.

NON-CONTIGUOUS HOMAGE FORTNIGHT #6: Try too hard to be Charles Dickens

Rotund and generous by nature, Mr. Pimplepop was a gentleman often to be found distributing hand-crafted wooden toys to poor children. In fact, he was engaged in just such an activity upon the occasion of his first encounter with the infamous Lord Snittington-Sneer.

‘My goodness, my lad,’ burbled Mr. Pimplepop, ruffling the angelic blonde hair of a young naïf. ‘How in the heavens can you be expected to carry on your daily business without the benefit of a wooden locomotive to play with?’

‘I’m awful sorry, sir,’ replied the radiant stripling. ‘I ‘ad no idea such a thing was needed.’

‘Oh ho ho,’ rumbled Mr. Pimplepop with delight. ‘No idea, you say!’ Before the sentiment could be expanded upon, however, a dark shadow stole across the heart-warming tableau and the spindly figure of Lord Snittington-Sneer lurched into sight. His face was sour and miserly, while his heart was as shrivelled and empty as his bank account was immodestly full. He struck terror into the souls of all who encountered him and it was said that he thrived especially on the fear of the impressionable young. Also, he was probably Jewish.

Starting a Law Firm | The Sky is the Limit

I've been writing a lot about this office space conundrum I'm in, and the more I think about it, the more I think it's about more than office space. And I think it is a great topic for all of you out there thinking about starting a law firm. I think the law is in a state of great transition, and the things I want to do I want to put me at the front of the pack, not the back or the middle.

The office space is just a small dichotomy of that. See, I don't think people like to go downtown to meet their lawyers. I don't think it connotes any kind of success or prestige. I think people don't have any idea what to expect, and often make their decisions based on completely irrational factors (much like juries do). Particularly when looking for a DUI attorney or criminal lawyer.

And, as one generation moves out of the boardroom and another moves in, their expectations are changing too. I think they'd rather spend their profits on things that will benefit both clients and shareholders (and their pocketbooks) rather than pad their egos. This means the extravagant office is over. This means a priority on effectiveness and productivity is going to be at a premium. The days of the line item for legal fees that must be used or lost are leaving us.

If you're starting a law firm you probably don't have to think about that too much. After all, you're just going to be trying to survive those first couple of years. But, it does come into play when you start thinking about how you are going to be set up and how you are going to run your practice. What I mean is, just because it's been done before, doesn't mean it won't work.

That's one reason I want to move my office out of downtown. Although the view is cool, it's expensive, it's inconvenient, and it doesn't improve productivity at all. I'm trying to find a sweet ass office, "off the strip" as they say, that will still appeal to clients but will be fun to go to every day. Even though we are attorneys, we can still have fun.

As you think about opening your law firms, think about what you really need, what people expect you to have, and what your traditional law firm mentality tells you what you should have. And then kick out everything in the last column and get ready to kick some serious ass for your clients.

Include detailed stage directions

KITCHEN. TABLE & TWO CHAIRS. ON THE TABLE ARE A SELECTION OF HERBS & SPICES – MARJORAM, THYME, CORIANDER, SAGE, BASIL – AND A METAL FORK, ONE PRONG OF WHICH IS SLIGHTLY BENT. ENTER KALI.

KALI: Hello?

SHE LOOKS AROUND, BUT THE KITCHEN IS EMPTY. SHE PICKS UP THE JAR OF THYME, THE LABEL OF WHICH IS TOO SMALL FOR THE AUDIENCE TO READ.

KALI: I guess I ran out of this and everyone left. (LAUGHS)

SHE PULLS HER PHONE OUT OF HER POCKET AND SILENTLY READS A TEXT MESSAGE – “BORED OF WAITING, SO LEFT. SUZ XX.” SHE TYPES A REPLY, AGAIN WITHOUT SPEAKING – “OK SEE YOU THERE HOPEFULLY LOL X.”

KALI: Right.

SHE LEAVES. MOMENTS LATER, A MOTE OF DUST FLOATS ACROSS THE STAGE AND SETTLES ON THE JAR OF BASIL, INDICATING TO THE AUDIENCE THAT KALI’S HUSBAND BASIL HAS DIED.

Small Steps for Continual Improvement--Work on Your Book-in-Progress

In my attempt to understand the balances and imbalances of the creative life, I've signed up for some e-newsletters. One of my favorites is The Introvert Energizer, written by coach Nancy Okerlund.
 

I met Nancy at one of my writing classes. She makes a study of the way introverts move through challenges, how they can live with more joy.

Since many of us writers have a rich inner life, maybe even think of ourselves as deeper-than-the-average bear, perhaps even consider we are more introvert than extrovert, Nancy's words often bring illumination to the journey of writing a book.

Small Steps--Kaizen

The Introvert Energizer's latest issue discusses the Japanese theory of "kaizen." Nancy calls it "small steps for continual improvement." I love this idea, because I'm a really a turtle disguised as a speedy rabbit. I wanted to mull over the concept of "kaizen" as it relates to my current book-in-struggle.

Act 2 of this next novel, Breathing Room (the sequel to Qualities of Light which was released in October) is complex. I dreamed of taking a step up with this book, having learned so much on the first novel. Through innocence or stupidity, I am tackling a three-part narrative in Breathing Room. Three points of view--Mel (father), Kate (mother), and Molly (daughter)--all have their own parallel stories.

Trying to weave together three separate voices is often enough to send me straight to bed!

Add to this another project, also on the front burner: the final round of edits for Your Book Starts Here, planned for September. I love this book, how it's evolving, and it occupies my creative brain much of the day. It's based on this blog, and my classes--a nonfiction book that collects wisdom on how books are dreamed up, structured well, written, and published, and hopefully helps writers do just that.

Toggling between these two is exciting and challenging.

Like for most of us, writing is only part of the day. Normal life, if you can call it that, goes on: the beloved teenager, the beloved spouse, the always-needy house and garden, the elderly but good cars, the demands of the "real" job that pays for all of it, the parents, the friends and community, the health needs--all want equal time and attention. You know this. I don't have to belabor the point.

You also know: Some days the writing is the last in line.

But miracle of miracles, I've been managing to keep moving, despite all these obstacles (and my desire to just sleep and forget it all).

How Do Small Steps Work?

It's very simple: I put in small amounts of time, even 10 minutes, on a regular basis. "Kaizen," I believe, in practice.

It's also got a twist, for writers of books: I always try to leave something unfinished.

Leaving something unfinished creates a vacuum. The creative self loves a vacuum, but the mind hates it. If I leave a scene half-edited, a page half-completed, a chapter hanging without an ending; if I shut off the computer, go away for a while, tend to my life, I can always get pulled back.

Because while I'm away from the writing, I'm still there. I'm living in that vacuum where anything could happen. How will this sentence end? How can I make this turn just so? I'm ITCHING to get back to it.

So I always do.

But only if I'm able to take small steps. Then the writing functions in the rest of my life. It's almost invisible to the rest of my life, which gives it much freedom.

Is this what "kaizen" is, for writers?

Your Weekly Writing Exercise

1. Try the idea of leaving something unfinished in your writing this week.

2. Practice one small step, don't try to be a marathoner. Create a vacuum to come back to and fill.

3. Read the article in The Introvert Energizer about "kaizen," the art of small steps for continual improvement. See how it might apply to your own creative efforts. Here's the link: http://www.introvertenergy.com/introvertenergizer/introvertenergizer-04-04.php

Write to prove a point

As the sirens receded into the distance, Geoff smiled to himself in the darkness. He could still taste the metallic flavour of blood at the back of his mouth and his hands were slick with gore. Above all this, though, was the heady exhilaration of revenge. As he had watched their eyes, full of pain and too-late remorse, he had felt the burden of years falling from him. Years of rejection; years of shattered dreams; years of well-used semicolons. At last, the depth of his artistry would be understood. At last, the world would know his name. Maybe there was even “room in the market” for a confessional autobiography. “Room in the market,” they had said. Perhaps now their graves would read “there simply isn’t room in the market.” Geoff laughed. He had a feeling that the Numington-Putsch Literary Agency had drafted their last ever letter of rejection.

Starting a Law Firm | Book Review | Office Space

As the title of the post implies, I have two things I want to talk about today with regard to starting a law firm. The first is a review of a book I've been reading. The second is about office space. Here we go.

Starting a Law Firm: Selling the Invisible Review

One of the things I love about owning a law firm is that every day I am making several decisions. About half of them deal with clients and their cases, and the other half deal with creating and maintaining a successful business. I really like both aspects of law firm owner role.

Unless you are trying to sell a service or have thought about how to sell a service, though, you have no idea how hard that can be. What you are selling can't be seen like a car, it can't be heard like an Ipod, it can be smelled or tasted like food, it can't be touched like furniture, and when the service is complete, if it's done right, your client or customer will probably feel like what you did was a fairly easy task. Think about how hard it is to put a value on something like that.

The book I am reading right now helps to put all of that into perspective, and gives practical advice to make your business grow. It's called Selling the Invisible, by Harry Beckwith. It's a compilation of a bunch of short, to the point, anecdotes on what works and doesn't work when promoting and selling a service based business.

For example, one hurdle we all face is the case when we are hired and it is resolved very quickly. Sometimes it is because of sheer luck, but most of the time it is because a fatal flaw in the case was recognized, pointed out, and the case is dismissed. When this happens, clients feel two things: first, they feel great that their case was dismissed; and second, they feel like they got ripped off because they paid you a lot of money for what seems like little actual "work." Beckwith helps explain the situation with two quotes:

A man was suffering a persistent problem with his house. The floor squeaked. No matter what he tried, nothing worked. Finally, he called a carpenter who friends said was a true craftsman.

The craftsman walked into the room and heard the squeak. He set down his toolbox, pulled out a hammer and nail, and pounded the nail into the floor with three blows.

The squeak was gone forever. The carpenter pulled out an invoice slip, on which he wrote the total of $45. Above the total were two line items:

Hammering, $2.

Knowing where to hammer, $43.

And this one, which is also a great illustration.

A woman was strolling along a street in Paris when she spotted Picasso sketching at a sidewalk cafe. Not so thrilled that she could not be slightly presumptuous, the woman asked Picaso if he might sketch her, and charge accordingly.

Picasso obliged. In just minutes, there she was: an original Picasso.

"And what do I owe you?" she asked.

"Five thousand francs," he answered.

"But it only took you three minutes," she politely reminded him.

"No," Picasso said. "It took me all my life."

These are the kinds of lessons strewn throughout this book. Great lessons on thinking about how to position yourself to be different from all the other law firms out there by simply explaining your strengths in ways that resonate with potential customers. Read this book. Buy this book. It will change the way you look at promoting your business.

Starting a Law Firm | Office Space

I've talked a lot about law firm office space. I've talked about it here, here, and here. But I'm back to looking for more office space and I'm thinking about what an office space should do for an attorney, specifically a DUI attorney or criminal attorney (since that's what I am).

These are my thoughts, kind of randomly thrown out there.

- I don't think clients really care where your office is.

- I think clients really care about what your office looks like when you get there (clean, easy on the eye, connotes success, confidence, and a certain demand for respect).

- I think the most important factor is convenience for you and your staff. And by convenience I mean: (1) it's easy to get to; (2) it's easy to get to where you need to go, i.e. courthouses; (3) it's a nice place to work; (4) it's functional; and (5) it's affordable.

What do you think?

Finally, these are my options for office space:

1. Traditional office in a big city high-rise (this is what I have now). We all know what that looks like.

2. Literal traditional office in older part of downtown (in a way like you'd expect from a small town lawyer). Here's an example.

3. Modern, open style loft office (conference rooms available for uber-confidential conversations/meetings). Examples here, here, and here.

I know there are people reading this blog, so help me out!

Suddenly change characters’ motivations

Olaf Manful smiled as he stashed the hard drive in his bag. He turned to his diminutive companion.

‘This should have all the information we need,’ he said. ‘With this, we can bring down the entire multinational criminal operation and prevent those nukes from being fired.’

‘Great, great,’ said Gilgo Shortington. ’So let’s get out of here before the guards find us.’ He moved for the door, but Olaf put a hand on his shoulder.

‘Not so fast, little buddy,’ he said. ‘I want to know what else they’ve got hidden here.’

‘Why?’ Gilgo said, throwing his hands in the air. ‘We’ve got the computer drive thing, so let’s just go.’

‘No,’ said Olaf. ‘We’re just getting started.’ Gilgo stared at him for a moment as the alarms blared around them.

‘Just getting started? What do you mean just... This is what we came for. This is the whole point. If we hang around, we’ll probably get caught and have to do a daring escape. We’ll almost definitely get into some sort of spectacular shootout. We should just go. There’s literally nothing to be gained from staying.’

‘Ha!’ Olaf laughed. ‘You’ve got a lot to learn about undercover work, little buddy.’