One of the most challenging parts of writing a story, or a crafting a scene more specifically, is a dialogue. It can’t just be:

“Hey,” Jon says.

“What’s up?” Sally says.

“Nothing. Nice day though.”

“I agree. Very nice.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

“Yeah. I hope it’s like this tomorrow.”

“Me too.”

OK, it can be this if this type of exchange warrants it. If the scene is static and the characters are static and this type of dialogue is meant heighten that in some way or highlight some uncomfortable part in the two character’s relationship, but even that would be making your story work a little hard. Dialogue slows the reader down, slows the story down. It’s a ‘Hey, focus on this part now! Stop skimming the narrative parts!” and you want to use it as effectively as possible.

As such, dialogue has to be carefully crafted. It has to be in sync with the character, something that the character would say. It has to in some way help move the plot along and deepen the meaning of the story, yet it can’t be ‘on the nose,’ meaning something that can’t be obvious or transparent. Most people don’t say what’s on their mind so matter-of-factly, yet at the same time dialogue also has to help reveal/deepen character. Jesus, reading this makes me scared as shit to ever write another piece of dialogue again.

So try this sometime (it’s a bit of a tired exercise, one that I sometimes take issue with, but it does help, at least to get your brain going): go to a crowded place–coffee shops are the best–and sit near a table and eavesdrop on a conversation. Bring a notepad. Write it all down, an entire conversation. Afterwards, go back and reread it. See if you can piece together what the people were talking about and how the exchange between the two of them felt–friendly, more than friendly, or cold and buisness-like. Then, after a few days, after you’ve most likely forgotten what the conversation was really about, go back and craft a scene with that dialogue and see what happens. Don’t change the words at all,  only stick to that dialogue. Create characters and put them in a scene somewhere. Have them talk with words you took down. Try to make it mean something, not just idle chit-chat.

This exercise will help train your ear. You’ll realize that the way most people talk to each other isn’t really the way dialogue in stories should be used. If so, stories would go nowhere fast. At best, this is an exercise to show what not to do, but once and a while you’ll get a good one, a juicy conversation that makes for a good scene.

The Bat Segundo Show, a great lit podcast that features writers of all sorts, is having to close it’s doors. Due to what, you ask? Financial hardships, what else, the long-living foe of independent media. It’s sad. This show rocked it, rocked it good. Below is a message from Bat Segundo’s head-honcho, Ed Champion. Thanks for four great years, Ed; you’ll be missed.

The Bat Segundo Show, 2004-2008
Written by Edward Champion
Posted on July 15, 2008
Filed Under Bat Segundo

The Bat Segundo Show is going on indefinite hiatus. Which pretty much means that it’s over, unless some magical sponsor or benefactor can appear at the eleventh hour to save the show. But I doubt it.

I tried to keep the show running as long as I could, supporting it with my own money. A typical show took me about twenty to thirty hours to produce from start to finish. Segundo was a full-time job for which I received nothing but generous donations, including many of you who kindly chipped in during last year’s pledge drive. The hell of it is that the money required to keep the show going was peanuts.

But now that most of my freelancing income sources have dried up — in some cases permanently — I’m looking for a full-time job to make ends meet. And I only have so much time and energy to go around.

I feel tremendously sad about all this. I know that for some authors, Segundo was the only place they had to discuss their books. But I see no other option but to fold the show under the current economic circumstances.

Thanks to all the authors who took the time out of their busy schedules to talk with me. Thanks to all the publicists who went along with the crazy concept. And thanks, most of all, to the listeners. For four years, we offered a bona-fide alternative to the mainstream. And I’m extremely disheartened to abandon this. I never felt entitled to a living from this. But I do feel as if I’ve drowned a baby.

There are about nine shows left to be released, with a few more interviews I’ve set up that have yet to be conducted. I’ll be putting these shows up in the forthcoming weeks.

In the meantime, if you need a guy to write for you full-time or wait tables, please feel free to email me.

I just finished reading Junot Diaz’s Drown. And may I say while I don’t think there’s anything as a perfect book, Diaz’s 1996 collection comes damn close. I’m having a love affair with this book right now, completely awed. There are parts of this book that left me speechless: the use of figurative language and dialogue, the bone-crushing grittiness (if that’s a word), and how in each story so little happens in terms of plot yet so much happens in the way of character and meaning. He’s a master of ending, of last lines and final images that stick with you.  

If you read one book this summer, or even this year, read Drown. Great things.

I am going to write this all in the past tense, meaning that the things I’m doing right now will be presented as if they happened earlier in the day. The same goes for the things that are going to happen today, things I have to do, so that when you read this later on tonight or tomorrow morning it’ll be like I’m telling you about my day even though this was written at nine o’clock in the morning. Kinky, right? Here goes.

At work, I wrote another short, short story today (this actually already happened, about an hour ago). It’s about two kids stuffing Ho-Hos into their sleeping grandfather’s mouth. This is the second short short I’ve written at work in the last week, and I have to say I’m thrilled, even though they/probably might suck. At least I’m being productive. I’m not a horribly prolific writer, often taking months at a time to compose and be satisfied with a 2500 word story, so just being able to sit down and have something spill out of me in a thousand words or less feels fantastic. I was thinking of revising the one I wrote last week, and have already written a second draft of it, but then I thought that maybe I shouldn’t–maybe I should just keep these small stories filed away as exericses, you know? Getting your brain in gear to write is like stretching before a run, and if you don’t stretch it hurts and can be hard for you to complete something successfully. If you write more frequently though, those muscules take less time to warm up, thus kicking your brain into writing mode much quicker. Does this make sense to anyone but me? Bottom line: I can’t say that I’m not going to revise these stories and try and publish them at some point, but I can say that right now they’re a good way to get my mind in the state to revise longer stories, stories I’ve been working on for months at a time. I’ve got two I’m hammering, or will start hammering again this week, and one more that’s just warming up. So maybe these tiny pieces of fiction will be good practice, in a sense.

Try it. When you sit down to work on a bigger project–a novel or longer story–take thirty minutes or so and write a short, under 500 word story just to get your mind rolling. I know that for some of us thirty minutes is our time to write, but if you can spare the time give this a try. It helps.  

I went to work today. I had coffee and lunch and then went back to my apartment and went to class.

I read today too, Junot Diaz’s Drown. I’m about halfway now (this is more of a hope than something I’ll actually do. If only I had time to read an entire book in a night. How lovely that would be! I’m making progress on Diaz’s book though and am loving it. Quite good. His is the fifth book I’ve read this summer, which isn’t so bad. I was hoping to get through eight or nine, which still might be possible but is definitely going to be more of a haul than I thought.  

I bought The Farewell Navigator by newcomer Leni Zumas (another hope, I’m poor…). Her first collection of stories out from Open City Books, there’s a nice little bit about her in the newest issue of Poets & Writers. Her collection sounds wonderful. Google her. Check her out.

I blogged today, as you can see. Hope you had a good day too. Goodnight.

I’ve always written in odd places. And on odd things: napkins, the back of receipts, text messages, the back of hand, etc.

Sometimes I write in class or in the car or on the train. Granted, these more often than not are just scribblings, idea making. Serious revision and editing I do sitting down at a desk or table like most other writers, and I’ve been doing that so much this summer. I’m deep in revision on two stories that hopefully will see daylight soon, and it seems like all my time is spent at a table in front of a computer, and things were starting to feel stale, worn. Not the stories so much–well, the stories too, but that happens when you’re knee deep in revision–but the process itself of sitting down in a proper space to write.

Newsflash: I’m not proper, and I was missing the rush you could get from writing a first draft–essentially an all around shitty story, but something so fresh and so new and so exciting that it literally takes the breath of you.

To me, one of the best feelings of being a writer is putting the last punctuation mark or the sound of the last thwap of the keys when you finish a first draft. Then silence. Then nothing. It’s pure, rough, untampered, untamed writing. It’s a fleeting feeling, one that precedes worry and concern that ultimately comes with revision, but it’s a high no doubt.

I had forgotten about that until this morning. This morning at work I wrote a 750 word story about a kid with a hump on his back who gets to make out with a girl in the bushes on the way home from school. I just reread it. I know a lot of it will have to be changed, and that after rewrite and rewrite it won’t look the same. I know that I’ve got a good amount of work to do on it, but I don’t care because right now I’m still trembling from finishing it, from embedding the last period and feeling accomplished, feeling like I told a good story.

Enough back-patting, but if I were to write a book on the art and craft of writing fiction, one of my suggestions would be to write in a place that’s not geared for writing: write somewhere that makes you uncomfortable, somewhere you could be rushed or bothered. That’s the point of this entry. Take yourself out of your comfort zone once and a while. Some of my personal favorite stories are ones that I wrote on the back of a napkin or on my forearm.

Try it.

You might be surprised what comes of it.

Thoughts anyone?  

With an invite from the most lovely Amy Guth, I did The Fixx Reading Series this past Thursday. It was their one year anniversary. Poets Peter Davis and Aaron Belz were also on the bill, and was I dwarfed by their work, their presence. T’was a fantastic night, and while I think I was definitely the weak link, I think it was overall a good anniversary party for Guth and The Fixx. I read a new story I’ve been working. It’s in second person. It’s inspired by Poison’s Talk Dirty to Me. I think people thought it was somewhat funny, which was good. I’m in deep revision on two other stories, although one of them I’m thinking of shelving for a while. I can’t seem to find a form or structure that fits the subject matter. I’ve got a first draft of a new story called “The Weight” to revise, and another story in my head that I hope to get down on paper soon. It’s about an old magician. Hopefully these stories will see publication sometime in the near future.

Ben Tanzer was kind enough to have me over to his house for a beer the reading, and then he joined me at the reading as well. Great to have him in the audience. Again, big thanks to Amy; you ROCK IT. And thanks for the Vodka Tonic…

Some other random things of note today, as I’m feeling very brief:

Favorite CD at the moment: Evil Urges and Z both by My Morning Jacket. Love ‘em.

Favorite book right now: Meno’s Bluebirds Used to Croon in the Choir. Each story is so dreamlike, so fantastical. I may have mentioned on here that I’m going to be starting work on my first proper collection of stories in the next few months, and I’m rereading the stories in Bluebirds and taking notes.

Favorite drink as of now: Honey Weiss. Tasty. MMMMM…

Favorite verb: Necking. Can’t beat it.

Favorite thing about blogs: the freedom to make inconsequential and nonsensical lists such as this.

One more heads up about tomorrow night, ya’ll. Check it out. Hope to see you out there.

That’s right, folks. This Thursday morning brings you a new 50 Word Story Segment with esteemed editor and writer Jackie Corley of Word Riot. She is the author of the forthcoming collection The Suburban Swindle from So New Media. She rocks, without a doubt. Find out for yourself.

—
Peasant Feast
—
Each had a part itching: an ankle under a threadbare sock; an unshaved calf; chapped knuckles.

He unlocked the hatchback for them, turning his thick fist slowly around the key.

“Dunkin’ Donuts throws out leftovers after closing. I rescued this.” He lifted a garbage bag from the trunk.
He was punk rock glory.

Q: Where did this story come from? Describes its genesis?

Every night, each Dunkin’ Donuts opens up a new garbage bag and dumps out, like, 10-20 pounds worth of relatively fresh doughnuts because they can’t sell day-old ones the next day.

My friend Aaron stopped over my house late at night after a small gathering was petering out. In the back of his station wagon he had this bag of doughnuts he swiped from the Dunkin’ Donuts dumpster just after they had closed. Aaron wound up driving around for, like, a week with this massive bag of doughnuts in his car, handing a few out wherever he went. He was like Santa Claus.

Q: Who are you? What makes you so amazingly cool that we just had to interview you?

I’m Jackie Corley. I run Word Riot (http://www.wordriot.org), an online literary magazine, and Word Riot Press, a small print publishing house.

I’m also a writer. I have a short story collection titled The Suburban Swindle that will be coming out through So New Publishing in the next few months. Visit http://www.sonewpublishing.com/stacks/corley/ for more info.

Q: What are you working on right now? Can you tell us? Stores? Poems? Novels? One of those tiny ships in a bottle?

I’m working on a multi-colored macaroni necklace because my mom told me I was lousy at arts and crafts as a kid.

Actually, I’m writing a novel manuscript I’m calling ‘Fine Creature.’ I had a lot of bizarre experiences when I was a reporter and got to know a lot of fascinating, eccentric fellow Jerseyans. You learn a lot about human nature and what motivates the crappy, wretched things we do to one another. That’s kind of what I’m trying to explore in this book. Obviously, if it were a movie, it would be a romantic comedy.

Q: Think fast: favorite short story or novel at the moment? Of all time?

Novel: The Naked and the Dead by Norman Mailer. It’s the greatest freaking book ever written. It’s like a Russian novelist took over Mailer’s body and produced this psychologically-rich mega-production chronicling every subset of American society.

Short Story: “Pretty Mouth and Green My Eyes” by J.D. Salinger. I know it’s as high on the Salinger short story totem pole as “A Perfect Day for Bananafish” or “Teddy” or whatever, but it’s got this wonderful collision of two worlds. You’ve got this touched, highly emotional dude wringing his voice out over a telephone, trying to connect to this human being who has wronged him. But the guy on the other end just isn’t that much of a human anymore. He’s so keyed in to a surface social framework that there’s just no there there anymore.

Q: If you could start a band full of writers, of literary greats and contemporary stars, who would be in your band and what instrument would they be on (four or five members only, otherwise the van gets too crowded and smelly)?

Salinger would be the emo singer. F. Scott Fitzgerald would be the bassist who’s always too drunk to make it through an entire set. Hemingway would be the drummer who pounds the skins too hard, overpowering the vocals and starting fights with Salinger. I’d be the guitarist and Flannery O’Connor would be the band manager and the moral support. She’d be the one hiding Hemingway’s Luger before he can blow the head off another chicken and send Salinger into a crying fit.

Q: What’s on the horizon for you? What’s next—i.e., publications, events/readings, etc.

A helluva lot of promotion for The Suburban Swindle. I’m going to try to plan some events and readings in the next few months. I love doing readings. You get this wonderful connection with an audience, which is great given the solitary nature of the craft.

Word Riot Press is publishing two short story collections in the next few months: Mind Games by David Gianatasio and World Takes by Timmy Waldron.

Thanks, Jackie–you rule! BUY HER BOOK, folks. Buy two copies just for shits and giggles.

Morning, and to all those father’s out there, enjoy your day.

A bit of a late report today from QUICKIES on Tuesday night, a reading series that I have dubbed one of the most exciting, laid back, and accessible series in Chicago. Hosted by two fine writers, the lovely Mary Hamilton–who said some lovely things about my book that night, thank you Mary!–and the venerable Lindsay Hunter–who’s Featherproof Mini-book you should check out–they have put together a real keeper of a monthly event here. If you haven’t dropped by there yet, do so on the second Tuesday of each month at the Innertown Pub at Damen and Division. DO IT NOW!

So, on to the actual reading. T’was quite good. I can’t remember all of the other readers as it’s been a while now, but Tanzer did well as always, despite going over the five minute limit and being buzzed off, to which he launched into a Patti Smith-like tirade against the audience–he actually didn’t. He was very good about it–just trying to make you sound a bit more badass, Ben, if you weren’t already badass enough.

Our two hosts rocked it hardcore, Hamilton a monologue about lunchroom debauchery and Hunter an awesome story about the best kind of relationship dysfunction. I read a horoscope that appeared in THE2NDHAND a few months back, which folks seemed to enjoy–but they had to have been lying.

Some friends in the crowd as well, and we need to thank them for their support: Amy Guth, who Ben and I had the pleasure of drinking with afterwards; Spencer Dew, who’s always good to hang with; and Jill Summers–what can we say about her? She rocks.

Aside from a harrowing and drunken sprint west down Madison Ave downtown to catch the last train home, QUICKIES was a rousing success. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even get invited back some day.

Coming soon to the blog: 50 Word Story Segment with Jackie Corely, editor of Word Riot.