Why All Series Should Be Trilogies
September 28, 2009
A series should always be a trilogy. Who has ever heard of a du-ology? And bi-ology is something quite different. What about a quadrology? Pentology? Nope. Clearly if there is no word for it, it just can’t be.
And trilogy is a versatile term. “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” is a four book trilogy. So is “Lord of the Rings,” if you count “The Hobbit.” Those are some successful quadrologies. The “Harry Potter” books are a septology, which doesn’t quite sound as naughty as a sextology, but after all those books are for kids.
Titles matter too. If you start with “A is for Alibi” you know you only have 24 more titles until you reach “Z is for Zero.” (What’s the word for a 26 part series? Kelli, you’re the Latin buff. Lend us a hand.) But if you start with “One for the Money,” you can keep writing until “Google Me Grandma Mazur.”
In all seriousness, a series should run exactly as long as the writer can tell rewarding stories in that world. Or until the publishers and readers stop buying them. As a writer, I hope for the first. Especially as I’m on the third book in my trilogy.
I’ll close by paraphrasing a junior high English teacher who, when I asked how long an essay should be, said “As long as a piece of rope.”
Drove me crazy then too.
Literary Influences
September 22, 2009
Which author, book and/or movie has influenced you the most?
by Rebecca Cantrell
I know you probably expect me to list some great literary fiction that I love, like Doris Lessing and Elie Wiesel. Or maybe thriller writers I’ve gotten into lately, like James Rollins and Brent Ghelfi. Or maybe mystery writers that make me think, like Anne Perry or Arianna Franklin. And all of those would be perfectly true.
But I’m going to talk instead about books I read aloud, because they’ve influenced me a great deal. I read aloud to my son. A lot. We stop at the bookstore almost every day after school to do homework, drink a milk, and read.
Now the books we read lean more toward The Edge Chronicles and Spacecraft and Vehicles of the Entire Star Wars Saga, but back in the day we read a lot of Doctor Seuss and Margaret Wise Brown (Good Night Moon, The Runaway Bunny). In a book you are going to read, say 50 times, you notice every single word. That’s where I understood the genius of these writers.Doctor Seuss and Margaret Wise Brown OWN you as a reader. You can’t not put the stress where they want you too. “I ran and found a Brickel bush. I hid myself away. I got brickels in my britches, but I stayed there anyway.”or “Good-night room, good night moon.”
If you compare this to say “Max and the Magic Pony.” you understand, painfully, the difference between great and barely good enough. “Max and the Magic Pony” is a perfectly fine story, but the prose is unreadable. My son loved it and wanted to read it every night. And it was horrible. Every single time. I read that book 21 times before it “accidentally” fell behind the bookcase and did not resurface for 2 years.
But I could read “Spooky Empty Pants” or “Good-Night Moon” every single day (and did some weeks). Why? Because the authors understood sentence rhythm. They knew that each word matters, and they always picked the right ones.
Sure, I heard about that in college when I was taking creative writing. But reading good children’s books was an enforced lesson in poetry. It wasn’t until I had to read every single word in a story over and over and over that I got it deep in my bones: Every word matters. It’s not just the meaning. It’s the sound. It’s the stress. I learned to channel Dr. Seuss, and it helps my writing.
Sure it’s research, but the food is good
September 8, 2009
If I could invite three characters to dinner, who would they be and what would be on the menu?
I’ve been feeling cut off from my German inspiration here on the island, so I would have a German night.
The menu would be provided by Laslzo from “Gloomy Sunday: Ein Lied von Liebe und Tod.” It would be his famous rouladen with gravy, potato dumplings, red cabbage and Brussel sprouts.To my right would be any role that Sebastian Koch has ever played (if CJ gets George Clooney…). He could be that sympathetic SS command from “Black Book” or that upright playwright from “The Lives of Others” or “Stauffenberg” or “Speer” depending on how he was feeling. Any of them would be a treasure trove of information for my book, although Ludwig Muentze would be my first choice. Muenzte could tell me about the command structure of the Nazi army, and how he managed to secure such a plum post in Holland.
Next to him would be his partner, Carice van Houten (hey, I’m happily married) so I could beg her to be Hannah Vogel in the movie made from my book. Based on her work in “Black Book” and “Valkyrie,” she’d be perfect. And I’d really love a few minutes with Rachel/Ellis to ask her about life as a spy in Holland in World War II and where she played as a singer. What would she have for me for tips and tricks to navigate through an occupied country collecting information while staying one step ahead of the occupiers?
Finally, I’d like to have that creepy Colonel Landa from “Ridiculous Basterds.” I wouldn’t be alone with him, mind you, and I would have to have Ryan Lock from “Lockdown” working security to keep an eye on him, but I think he would definitely hold up his end of the conversation. After dinner, I’d send him quickly back to the land of fiction, but the others could stay for tea and apple strudel. Then we could invite over Salley Bowles and Clifford from “Cabaret” and find a good place to go dancing.
Sam Spade in a Cage Match with Precious Ramotswe
September 1, 2009
by Rebecca Cantrell
On the left, wearing a rumpled trench coat and reeking of Scotch, is Sam Spade. He’s a tough looking customer, with the face to prove it. But he’s out of his element without his trusty gun. Still, it’s not going to be easy to take him down. In his corner, he has Effie, his disillusioned secretary. She looks as likely to stuff the threadbare towel down his throat as throw it in. One red lacquered fingernail taps against the liquor bottle.
On the right is a large figure covered by a robe with a hood. It moves with such calm authority that Sam gets even more edgy. He’s not a big guy. His opponent has height, weight, and probably reach on him. And no one’s allowed out of the cage.
The figure shrugs off the robe, folds it neatly, and passes it through the cage bars. Her brightly patterned dress matches her blue and white head scarf. She waves and Sam flinches.
It’s Precious Ramotswe.
In her corner sits JLB Maketoni. He doesn’t look the least bit nervous. With him are two children, Motholeli and Puso. Motholeli holds a steaming cup of red bush tea.
The opponents walk toward each other in the ring. Sam’s head is down, his fists are up. Precious’s arms are loose by her side.
The lights flicker. Go out. The crowds gasps. The audience babbles so loudly no one can hear what’s going on in the ring.
The lights blaze back to life a few minutes later. Sam is sobbing on his knees in front of Effie. He apologizes for his past behavior and proposes to her on the spot.
Mma Rawotse sips her red bush tea with a mysterious smile. Peeking from between her fingers is a slip of paper. On it? The location of the real Maltese falcon, of course.