I'm nearing the end of my WIP. Well, when I say that, I'm 3/4 of the way through the first draft, but whenever I get to that point, my mind starts to think 20 steps ahead and is plotting out the next three stories. And one of them is really, really wanting to be told.
But...and there are several buts (no pun intended). First up after this one is the next book in the Duncan Andrews series. And then...maybe.
You see, the trouble is, this story isn't my usual thing. It's not humor, for one thing. It's pretty much a horror novel, with some romance thrown in. My question is, will it work? Will anyone care?
But of course, it may not even matter. By the time I get the next Duncan Andrews done, something else might push it's way to the front. But I don't know...it's REALLY wanting to be told...
Musing and whatnot from the author of Pale As a Ghost, Pop Goes the Weasel, etc.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Sunday, May 5, 2013
"Dying is easy. Comedy is hard."
The quote has been attributed to Shakespearean actor Edmund Keen. Others say a version of it was uttered by character actor Edmund Gwenn on his death bed. The exact wording may have come from the writers of the movie My Favorite Year, uttered on screen by the brilliant Peter O'Toole.
Whoever said it, it's true. Comedy is very subjective, and if someone doesn't see the humor, explaining the joke to them just doesn't work. It's just not funny, to them at least.
The members of Monty Python, upon finishing their movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail, were sure that they had one of the biggest turkeys ever on their hands. They were used to writing a skit, working it over a bit, filming it, and then moving on. Constantly going over the same scene over and over while filming the movie, by the end they saw no humor in it any longer.
Not that I'm comparing myself to Monty Python, Edmund Keen, or anyone of that caliber, but I understand where they're coming from on this. Most of what I write is either comedy or at least has huge doses of comedy. It's funny when you think of it, funny when you first write it, maybe even slightly humorous by the time you go over it again...but after a while, you start to wonder just what the hell you thought was good about the idea in the first place.
In my last blog I expounded on my worry over waiting to hear if a story gets the green light or gets the raspberry. And I wasn't just being self-deprecating. Sometimes by the time something is ready to be sent out, I have no idea whether it's any good or not. Let the editors decide, I tell myself. That's their job. One story I was waiting to hear about was "Quarter Moon Over a Ten Cent Town," a story I sent to Dreamspinner Press for possible inclusion in their Cuddling anthology. I wasn't sure if the story was funny, or even if it fit with the theme of the anthology. I sent it out anyway. I always liked to color outside the lines.
And they bought the story! So...take that, me! You don't know what you're talking about! At least someone liked the story enough to dole out some dough for it.
Note to self: don't always listen to that inner voice. Sometimes it's a good thing to be loopy on paint fumes.
Whoever said it, it's true. Comedy is very subjective, and if someone doesn't see the humor, explaining the joke to them just doesn't work. It's just not funny, to them at least.
The members of Monty Python, upon finishing their movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail, were sure that they had one of the biggest turkeys ever on their hands. They were used to writing a skit, working it over a bit, filming it, and then moving on. Constantly going over the same scene over and over while filming the movie, by the end they saw no humor in it any longer.
Not that I'm comparing myself to Monty Python, Edmund Keen, or anyone of that caliber, but I understand where they're coming from on this. Most of what I write is either comedy or at least has huge doses of comedy. It's funny when you think of it, funny when you first write it, maybe even slightly humorous by the time you go over it again...but after a while, you start to wonder just what the hell you thought was good about the idea in the first place.
In my last blog I expounded on my worry over waiting to hear if a story gets the green light or gets the raspberry. And I wasn't just being self-deprecating. Sometimes by the time something is ready to be sent out, I have no idea whether it's any good or not. Let the editors decide, I tell myself. That's their job. One story I was waiting to hear about was "Quarter Moon Over a Ten Cent Town," a story I sent to Dreamspinner Press for possible inclusion in their Cuddling anthology. I wasn't sure if the story was funny, or even if it fit with the theme of the anthology. I sent it out anyway. I always liked to color outside the lines.
And they bought the story! So...take that, me! You don't know what you're talking about! At least someone liked the story enough to dole out some dough for it.
Note to self: don't always listen to that inner voice. Sometimes it's a good thing to be loopy on paint fumes.
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