Category: Literature (Page 3 of 9)

Fantasy Setting

Fantasy Settings: How Much Do We Really Need to See?

May 18, 2020 /

Everybody likes a good fantasy setting. Whether it’s Tolkien’s Middle-Earth, Jemisin’s Stillness, or Pratchett’s Discworld, there are some places we never want to leave. By that logic, there are some places we should see even more of, right? Well, not necessarily.

For us fantasy writers, it’s tempting to show every region of our worlds. That abandoned graveyard? Let’s send some characters there, just to see it. What about the ancient eagle’s nest atop the mountain? We need to show it, just because it’s awesome. And that village of singing trolls out in the west? There’s a chapter.

Before we do that, let’s take a step back and look at our world. Not the story world, but the world we actually live in. You know, Earth. It’s vast, isn’t it? And not only geographically—in terms of our knowledge, too. So many cultures, so much history. It’s practically limitless. Most people live their whole lives never seeing the entire thing.

To create an authentic fantasy world, I think we need to keep that same principle in mind. I believe every fictional world, fantasy or otherwise, should have parts on the periphery that we never discover.

A great example comes from The Lord of the Rings. Sure, you remember Mordor and Rivendell. But riddle me this: Do you remember Queen Beruthiel? She’s mentioned in an offhand comment from Aragorn:

“[Gandalf] is surer of finding the way home in a blind night than the cats of Queen Berúthiel.”

That’s it. She’s never mentioned again. At first glance, this might seem like laziness or even a mistake. But that reference is almost certainly intentional, and one of the many tricks Tolkien employed when building Middle-Earth. He created a rich, wholly believable world precisely because he didn’t show us everything.

Just like in the real world, there are limits to our knowledge as readers. If we directly experience every location and every person, the setting ends up feeling awfully small. But if there’s more beyond the borders of the page, we get a proper sense of scale.

Let’s stick with epic fantasy for our second talking point. A Song of Ice and Fire is one of the most immersive worlds out there. And it’s a big world—big enough that the story might not even conclude after seven volumes.

In books four and five, author George R.R. Martin shows us more of this expansive world. He adds several characters just to serve as vessels through which we can see the other areas of his setting. For example, bodyguard Areo Hotah exists only to show us what’s happening in the desert kingdom of Dorne.

Does it work? Well, that depends on whom you ask. For the most part, though, fans hate it.

Why? Because even Martin, who’s been a professional writer for decades, makes the mistake of showing too much of his setting. He has many chapters in which his characters do little except tell us what’s going on in this one place. Do we really need to see what’s going on in Dorne and the Iron Islands first-hand? You could debate it, but a lot of fans will tell you it distracts from the main plot. Furthermore, it makes his world feel smaller.

The more we see of a setting, the smaller it gets. Though we might want to visit that cool place we referenced way back in chapter five, it’s often best if we resist the urge.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their cats, and their dog. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories that make people laugh.

*Image credit: Mehmet Canli. Used under permission of CC BY-SA 2.0.

The 5 Most Underrated Fantasy Books I’ve Ever Read

May 11, 2020 /

Some books don’t get their proper due. So today, we’re going to look at some of the most underrated fantasy books ever written. Let’s give them the credit they deserve!

1. Best Served Cold by Joe Abercrombie

Best Served Cold

(Image via Goodreads)

I believe Best Served Cold is Joe Abercrombie’s all-time best—and he’s got some amazing books in his catalog.

The setup is simple. Monza Murcatto, a charismatic mercenary captain with a bloody reputation, is betrayed by Grand Duke Orso, the man who’s employed her for years. Orso and six other conspirators help kill Monza’s brother and nearly kill her, too. Yet Monza survives, and swears vengeance on all seven of them.

I really dig this book’s structure. There are seven distinct sections, each taking place in a different city of Styria (the book’s principal setting), each chronicling Monza’s revenge upon a different man. She collects a diverse cast of dangerous people along the way, including Caul Shivers (a northman trying to reform his life), Castor Morveer (a poisoner with an inflated opinion of himself), Shylo Vitari (a former torturer and dedicated mother), and Nicomo Cosca (a drunk with a bad habit of betraying employers). Each provides their own value to the story.

Why is it underrated? The book made a minor splash during its initial release in 2009, yet hasn’t been discussed much since. I think we need to recognize this one for what it is: one of the best fantasy books of the 2000s!

Look, I know that’s a strong claim. I wouldn’t make it if I didn’t really feel that way. Best Served Cold has outstanding characters, a non-stop plot, high stakes, and a vivid setting. In addition, it’s the best blend of heist thriller and epic fantasy I’ve ever read. Please read this book. You’ll be glad you did.

2. The Shining Girls by Lauren Beukes

The Shining Girls

(Image via Goodreads)

I’ve written about this book before…but whatever. It deserves the buzz!

The Shining Girls is an innovative thriller with a strong element of contemporary fantasy (not to mention a very cool structure). Set in the modern day, the book tells the story of Kirby Mazrachi, a girl who was never supposed to have a future. She’s the sole survivor of an attack by Harper Curtis, a truly bad dude who kills women not just in his own era, but others. How does he do that, you ask? That’s the fantasy element. He discovers a house in depression-era Chicago that allows him to travel through time.

I first heard of this novel when its author, Lauren Beukes, did an interview on one of my favorite podcasts, The Geek’s Guide to the Galaxy. One of the most striking things she said in that interview was that she was sick of stories where the serial killer got all the narrative attention. With The Shining Girls, she wanted to write a serial killer story about the victims. She succeeded.

Why is it underrated? Well, I love Goodreads—but when it comes to this book, they’ve got it all wrong! Out of over 35,000 votes, the book’s average rating is a 3.49 out of 5.

I’m appalled by that rating. Beukes’s approach to the subject matter is something we must continue to emulate. I think people are realizing that more and more now, yet she was onto it years ago. Plus it’s just a great book.

Please do yourself a favor and read it. Then rate it. And please, give it the rating it deserves (hint: it’s better than 3.5 stars).

3. The Bone Clocks by David Mitchell

The Bone Clocks

(Image via Goodreads)

Another novel with a daring narrative structure, David Mitchell’s The Bone Clocks follows a woman named Holly Sykes throughout her life. The book is divided into six sections, the first beginning with a 15-year-old Holly in 1984 and ending with a 74-year-old Holly in 2043.

No matter what you’ve read, I promise this book is nothing like it. It’s about a war between two psychic factions, one that Holly ends up embroiled in. In fact, it’s almost a little misleading to call it a novel—perhaps a series of interconnected novellas would be closer to the mark.

One of my favorite parts of the reading experience is figuring out what happens between sections of the book. For example, we begin in 1984 with a young Holly. We then leap ahead seven years to 1991, where we meet a grifter named Hugo Lamb. Hugo meets a bar manager in Switzerland whom he’s immediately attracted to. We don’t know who she is at first, but soon we find out. She’s Holly Sykes!

Each section carries with it a little surprise like that. It’s amazing and fun to see how they all connect, how all the characters evolve and interact. Plus, there are some fantastic supernatural element scattered throughout, including telepathy and reanimated corpses. What’s more, Mitchell is a brilliant prose stylist.

Why is it underrated? Well, people recognize its awesomeness, yet it’s overshadowed by Mitchell’s magnum opus, Cloud Atlas. I agree, Cloud Atlas is amazing. It too is one of my favorite books. But let’s not allow that giant to distract from Mitchell’s other work. The Bone Clocks is an amazing book in and of itself, and I would be sad if people forgot that.

4. Three Moments of an Explosion by China Miéville

Three Moments of an Explosion

(Image via Goodreads)

Another book that released to initial praise, then seemed to fall into obscurity. Three Moments of an Explosion has a fantastic title. The stories within are even better.

To a certain extent, I understand why it’s been forgotten. After all, short story collections don’t have the longevity that novels do. Still, I think Miéville’s collection should get more love than it does. These stories range from odd to strange to bizarre to downright horrifying.

“The Dowager of Bees” is one of my favorites. (Being a Magic: The Gathering player, I really dig stories with copious shuffling.) It’s about a card shark who stumbles across a magical card which inexplicably appears within his deck. “In the Slopes” tells the bizarre tale of archeologists who uncover some sort of alien life form. Then there’s “Säcken,” which is quite frankly one of the most disturbing stories I’ve ever read.

This collection is fantastic. I encourage you to read it!

5: Fire & Blood by George R.R. Martin

Fire & Blood

(Image via Goodreads)

Fire & Blood is a history of the Targaryen family. It takes us from the founding of the dynasty through its near breaking during the Dance of Dragons, then into the war’s aftermath. It’s not a complete chronicle of the line, so there should be a sequel to finish things. (Hopefully it doesn’t release before The Winds of Winter. Otherwise, there might be a riot.)

I love Martin’s work, both within A Song of Ice and Fire and outside it. So I was disappointed to see such a negative reaction to this book. Upon release, a lot of people said something to the effect of, “Whatever. Where’s book six?”

I get it. I want The Winds of Winter, too. But this one is still really good!

Fire & Blood is filled with fascinating characters, rich conflicts, and ample imagination. Though written as a history, it’s certainly not boring. What’s more, this book seems to drop hints here and there for what we might expect in the remaining stories of the main series.

Please don’t underrate this book. If you enjoy A Song of Ice and Fire, you’ll enjoy this, too.

Any I Missed?

That’s my list. These books are awesome and I wish they got more love. What are some that you’d like to see more of? Let me know in the comments!

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their cats, and their dog. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories about coffee.

Unusual Narrative Styles in Fiction

April 20, 2020 /

Writer

Mark Twain once said, “I like a good story well told.”

We’re with you there, Mark. Whether that story comes in the form of a book, a news article, or over a drink with a friend after work, stories are pretty much universal. It’s the “well told” part of this statement that interests me most, though. What exactly does that mean? Regarding fiction, is there an optimal way to tell a story well? I think not.

Linear, cause-and-effect narratives are fine. Third-person omniscient narration is cool. And the Hero’s Journey works. But when you find a story told in a weird, out-there sort of way, it can really make things feel fresh.

What am I talking about here? I’m talking about present tense. I’m talking about all-dialogue. I’m talking about non-linear narratives. Let me give you a few examples.

The Shining Girls

I just got finished reading The Shining Girls by Lauren Beukes. It’s about a woman who survives a brutal attack by a time-traveling serial killer, and then devotes the rest of her life to stopping him. Not one for the kiddies.

It’s not the typical cut and dry, one-scene-into-the-next thriller. First thing: it’s written in the present tense, which is atypical for genre fiction. Present tense works perfectly with this story, though, because it gives everything a sense of immediacy. It’s as if the events of the novel are unfolding before us in real time, sort of like a news story (Beukes was a freelance reporter for a while, by the way).

Furthermore, present tense works best with quick sentences and short chapters, which we see much of in The Shining Girls. Beukes writes her chapters in quick hits, like jabs to the mouth. We zoom in on one character, end on a resounding note, then move on to the next. An economical yet powerful approach.

Could Beukes achieve the same effect using traditional narrative styles? Maybe, but I don’t think it would’ve been quite as effective. There’s no distance to the events with present tense—it’s happening instead of having already happened.

Your Fathers, Where Are They? And the Prophets, Do They Live Forever?

Another weird narrative comes in David Eggers’s Your Fathers, Where Are They? And the Prophets, Do They Live Forever? The plot: an unremarkable man kidnaps an astronaut in order to ask said astronaut many existential questions.

…That probably already sounds weird. It gets weirder.

Eggers’s book is written entirely as dialogue. It’s sort of like a stage play in that sense, only without even so much as stage direction. Like in The Shining Girls, this makes things move quickly. Though it’s a roughly 200-page book (which isn’t super long to begin with), it reads as though it’s half that length.

The best part about this all-dialogue style is the way it puts the characters’ voices right in your ear. After a while, you can imagine distinct accents and inflections for each of them. Furthermore, the dialogue takes on a special weight, because without a description to back it up, every line must do more to advance the story. In addition, the dialogue must also perform such mundane actions as orienting the reader in the space, a function usually performed by description.

Slaughterhouse-Five

The last weird narrative style I’d like to discuss is that of Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five. Perhaps the weirdest of the three, Slaughterhouse centers on the life of Billy Pilgrim, a WWII veteran who’s trying to adjust to postwar life. Which is tough when you’ve become “unstuck in time” and subsequently cycle through different moments of your life.

Billy jumps from moment to moment, from the war to troubled times at home to an alien planet, all of them years apart. The narrative cuts between all these times and settings in an unpredictable pattern—definitely not the style of most books.

But the genius here is that we become disoriented, just like Billy. If the story was told in a normal, linear manner, we’d know exactly when we are in time, i.e. the events on page 100 are happening after those on page 50. As written, though, we’re just as unstuck in time as Billy. It’s an effect that couldn’t be achieved otherwise.

So What’s the Best?

So what makes a good story well told? Like any good question, there’s no single answer. It might be a classic structure, or it might be something unusual. Whatever the structure, it’s not just what happens that makes a story great—it’s the way in which it happens.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories about cats.

Architect or Gardener: Which Kind of Writer Are You?

February 18, 2020 /

Writer

As a writer, I’m fascinated by other writers’ writing habits. There are infinite ways to construct a story, so it’s interesting to hear how others choose to do it.

George R.R. Martin, author of A Game of Thrones and its sequels, devised an excellent metaphor for writers and their processes. He divides them up into two loose categories: architects and gardeners.

What exactly does that mean? Let’s dig in.

Architects

Here’s how Martin defines them:

“The architect, as if designing a building, lays out the entire novel at a time. He knows how many rooms there will be or what a roof will be made of or how high it will be, or where the plumbing will run and where the electrical outlets will be in its room. All that before he drives the first nail. Everything is there in the blueprint.”

In other words, architects plan everything before writing it. They might work from a detailed outline or multi-page treatment. Architects often devise character bios or event timelines. If you’ve ever covered your wall in sticky notes, you’re probably an architect (or maybe a detective?).

When I did screenwriting in school, we were obligated to be architects; that is, we were required to write an outline for every script. Makes sense. With only a semester to write, it’s a unwise to choose a destination without a map.

However, spending time as an architect revealed some inherent weaknesses with the style. For one, characters might feel a bit less natural when they’re written to an outline. Characters come alive when they make organic decisions which align with their established traits. They can feel stiff when making decisions for the sake of an outline.

Of course, being an architect also has its advantages. For instance, architectural writing tends to feel more focused, especially on first drafts. Architects spend less time searching for their path since they’ve already built. All that’s left is to expand upon it—adorn it with some yellow bricks or something.

Gardeners

I’ll let Mr. Martin take over here:

“And then there’s the gardener who digs the hole in the ground, puts in the seed and waters it with his blood and sees what comes up. The gardener knows certain things. He’s not completely ignorant. He knows whether he planted an oak tree, or corn, or a cauliflower. He has some idea of the shape but a lot of it depends on the wind and the weather and how much blood he gives it and so forth.”

Gardeners plant the seed of an idea and watch it blossom. Unlike architects, they usually don’t have a blueprint for their stories. Instead, gardeners often begin with a particular thought, character, or scene, then work from there. Where it goes is anyone’s guess.

Although being a gardener is liberating, it also requires a lot of trial and error. Gardeners might start on a promising idea and spend weeks nurturing it. But what if it doesn’t grow? What if it doesn’t go anywhere? It’s discouraging to spend time on a particular piece only to realize you have no idea how it should develop.

The advantage of being a gardener (besides the fresh vegetables) is that such writing often feels spontaneous. Unlike architects, gardeners will often find surprises within their own work. Gardener characters also might feel less rigid than architect characters. Their actions will often shape the story since there is no predetermined path for them to follow.

Which Are You?

Here are Martin’s closing remarks on the subject:

“No one is purely an architect or a gardener in terms of a writer, but many writers tend to one side or the other. I’m very much more a gardener.”

As Martin wrote, most writers fall somewhere near the middle and lean toward one side or the other. So which are you closer to: an architect or a gardener?

I’m still figuring out which side I favor. In my screenwriting days, I had to be more of an architect. After graduating, I swung far (maybe too far) towards gardening. Now I’m shifting back toward an architect.

Whichever you are, keep building and keep planting. Keep writing!

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories about coffee.

My Favorite Books of 2019

December 31, 2019 /

With the last day of 2019 upon us, there’s something we need to discuss…

Books.

Well, we always need to discuss books. But today, in honor of the year about to end, I’d like to share with you the five best books I read since January 1st. I loved them and, if you choose to read them, I hope you love them, too. Here they are!

The Sandman Series by Neil Gaiman

Source: Amazon

Though there are 10 trade paperback collections in this series (with each paperback collecting several previously issued comic books), I’m counting this as one book. Why? Because I can’t choose between them. It’s like choosing between one’s children. Or in my case, one’s cats. They’re all my favorite.

The Sandman is a series of comics by Neil Gaiman, his first major work of fiction. They’re masterful. Sandman combines elements of mythology with world history, mashed together with Gaiman’s original creations set against modern-day problems. All of these elements would become mainstays of his work in the future. Both the writing and art in these comics is superb. Sometimes it’s a shame that the writing is so good—I forget to look at the pictures!

Alright, fine. If I must choose a favorite, I choose Volume IV, entitled Seasons of Mist (please don’t tell the other volumes). In this story, the titular Sandman ventures down to Hell, only to find a shocking surprise: Lucifer has quit. He decided he doesn’t much care for overseeing demons and torment and all that. So he locks up Hell and entrusts (or rather, curses) the Lord of Dreams with the key. Now Gods of many pantheons and creatures from many worlds arrive to plead their case for the key, and therefore the dominion of Hell. How sick is that?

I’m not normally a comics guy, but these are worth it for any reader. Well, maybe not for kids. But Sandman is amazing. One of the best works I read all year—or ever.

There There by Tommy Orange

Source: Goodreads

Perhaps the most structurally daring entry in this list, Tommy Orange’s There There tells the story of several Native American people attending a Powwow in modern-day Oakland, California. Some attend for stories, some to reconnect with their culture, and some to rob everyone else there.

Orange’s writing is excellent, his style unique. Furthermore, he manages to develop 12 or so point-of-view characters in a little over 300 pages, which is a feat in and of itself. There There was a finalist for the 2019 Pulitzer Prize in Fiction, and for good reason. I highly recommend it.

Orange World and Other Stories by Karen Russell

Source: Goodreads

Had to get my short stories in. I read Karen Russell’s Orange World just before publishing my own short story collection, Monsters at Dusk. It was a weird bit of synchronicity because she felt like an influence, even though I’d never read her work before. Which is not to same I’m anywhere near as talented as she is. She’s LeBron and I’m, I dunno, JaVale McGee. I just feel we have a similar sensibility. We both use the supernatural as a metaphor for life’s inexplicable questions.

I enjoyed all the stories in this collection, but my favorite was “The Gondoliers.” It’s set in a post-apocalyptic Florida that’s been flooded by rising sea levels. The protagonist, one of the titular gondoliers, navigates a mysterious man through the waters, out to a wild destination.

Not exactly beach reading, but I think Orange World will appeal to anyone who appreciates excellent prose combined with the bizarre.

A Little Hatred by Joe Abercrombie

Source: Goodreads

If you’re a longtime reader of my blog, you know about my love of Joe Abercrombie’s First Law series. After a brief hiatus, A Little Hatred marks his triumphant return. Picture A Song of Ice and Fire as set in turn-of-the-century America/Britain.

Since this is the continuation of an already seven-volume series, A Little Hatred presents both aging returning characters and young newcomers (being mostly children of the old folks). The former play pleasantly on nostalgia, while the latter stand on their own as vital new entries. A Little Hatred does start slowly, but it builds to several strong climaxes. Plus, the last page is as shocking as it is tragic.

Epic fantasy with bad language, ample violence, and of course, sex. If you like those things in your books, you’ll like this one quite a bit. I recommend reading the previous seven books for maximum enjoyment, but you’ll probably have fun without them, too.

Big Game: The NFL in Dangerous Times by Mark Leibovich

Source: Goodreads

I’m primarily a fiction reader, so this one might surprise you. But I myself was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed Big Game.

First of all, Mark Leibovich is an excellent writer. As he mentions several times in the book, he primarily writes about politics for the New York Times. However, being a lifelong New England Patriots fan (gross), he couldn’t seem to resist writing this book.

In it, we get an insider’s look at people such as Patriots quarterback Tom Brady, Dallas Cowboys owner Jerry Jones, and NFL commissioner Roger Goodell. It’s a well-written, incisive, and oftentimes farcical glimpse at a pro sports league with both major successes and major problems. Big Game is stuffed with bizarre anecdotes about the personalities behind the shield, including my personal favorite, in which Commissioner Goodell tries to demonstrate a malfunctioning NFL mobile app to the author.

I won’t go so far as to say this would appeal to non-football fans. Leibovich is a skilled enough writer that it might, but something tells me sports fans will get the biggest kick out of it.

Happy 2020!

Well, that’s all for this year. (You can find last year’s list here, if you feel like it.) Happy reading in 2020!

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories about coffee.

Happy Birthday “Gerald Barkley Rocks”!

December 18, 2019 /

Cover designed by Nathan Rumsey

One year ago, I published my first novel. It’s called Gerald Barkley Rocks.

Most writers have soft spots for their first book. I certainly do. It’s the summation of a hell of a lot of work, not to mention the tangible proof that yes, you are indeed a writer. Plus, even non-writers can’t resist seeing their names on books.

So yes, I have a soft spot for Gerald Barkley Rocks—or GBR, as I’ve come to call it, since three-letter names are hot right now. But that certainly doesn’t mean I think it’s perfect.

In fact, in honor of its one-year birthday, I’m going to mercilessly criticize GBR. Well, maybe I’ll show a little mercy. I’ll give credit when it’s deserved. But overall, I’m hoping this might be a fun and educational critique, both for you and me.

Be warned: If you haven’t read the book yet, please consider doing so before reading this blog post. Onward!

Side I

GBR is separated into four parts, which I call “sides,” so named to mimic the four sides of a vinyl double album. I pushed the metaphor even further by renaming the chapters “tracks,” as in tracks on a record. (You might’ve also noticed that each track’s title corresponds to a song by Black Cat Waltz.) I thought it was a cool meta-metaphor then and I feel the same way now. Good job, former self.

Unfortunately, Track 1 starts off slow. It performs its function well enough by introducing our main character and a few conflicts he’ll explore throughout the novel. And yes, there are some decently funny lines (“tall mocha latte swirl”). But I wish I’d found a more exciting way to begin the book. Two dudes sitting in a doctor’s office discussing blood leaking from orifices is not exactly a thrilling opener.

Things pick up in the elevator when the man in the red coat appears. I think I did a nice job connecting him with Barkley’s illness and the music of Black Cat Waltz. It’s a quick scene that suitably unsettling, both for the main character and, I hope, the reader.

The book doesn’t really heat up until Track 2 (This is when Barkley arrives at the scene and meets Carmen for the first time.) I must say, the writing is sharp here. If you’ll allow me to pat myself on the back, I feel I provided a detailed description of the scene and established several important plot points, all economically and elegantly. Carmen Fowler’s first scene in particular has some nice dialogue…

…But, that brings me to one of my main criticisms: Why does Carmen like Barkley? To be honest, this was a question most beta readers asked me when reviewing my manuscript. They didn’t understand why a Hollywood actress would have any interest in an old, glum, and mostly boring detective on the verge of retirement. Honestly, I myself had the same question, even after reading the finished product.

To be fair, I did try to answer said question in the following passage. Carmen begins it (and note, Barkley doesn’t yet know her name).

“Ever since my husband passed I go for walks at night. Can’t sleep. A few times I caught Julian out wandering and we chatted.”

“I’m sorry.”

“About the chatting?”

“About your husband. My wife passed a while back, so the sleeplessness…I get it.”


Unexpectedly, the woman reached out and squeezed Barkley’s hand. “Stay strong, detective. You’re not alone.”


Barkley wasn’t so sure about that, but it was kind of her to say so.

This is better than my earlier drafts, but it’s still a problem, even in the final one.

Rounding things out is the first of the “Hidden Tracks.” Again, going with the vinyl terminology, a hidden track is a song that isn’t listed on the sleeve but appears on the record nonetheless. A great example (and one of the first) is the song “Her Majesty” from The Beatles 1969 classic Abbey Road. It plays about almost 20 seconds after the alleged final track, though it’s not listed on the actual sleeve.

I went for a similar effect with the Hidden Tracks in my book. They’re additional pieces that add color and flavor to the narrative, though they break the book’s point of view and don’t occur during the present timeline. There are three Hidden Tracks, one at the end of each side except the fourth and final. And I’m happy to say, all three work well.

The first Hidden Track is my second favorite. Young Julian Strange’s midnight prophecy is pretty cool, and it hints at the concept of Deaths without outright explaining them. Plus, it hints at supernatural events to come.

Side II

We begin with Track 4, entitled “Sing Us a Song (But Not That One).” Here I think I did a decent job setting up the mystery. The fairy-tale inspired record store is a solid setting and Francisco Jones is a weird character. My main gripe with myself is the “Song of Eggs and Semen” bit.

I remember agonizing over the name of the song for months. I wanted a title that described the song’s purpose (offering new life) yet also made readers laugh. “Song of Eggs and Semen” was meant to be a placeholder, but I simply couldn’t come up with anything funnier. Sometimes you just run out of time and need to write something, even when you know it’s not the best answer.

Another misstep: my heavy-handed symbolism with the color red. For example, in the next track, “Love is for Strangers,” when Barkley and Carmen run into each other at Trader Joe’s, this happens:

They stood there in the aisle, just staring at each other. Cans of stewed, diced, and whole tomatoes waited silently beside them.

A swing and a miss at subtlety there.

However, this side wasn’t a total failure. Nicks proved to be as fun a supporting character as I remember him being. He plays a strong foil to Barkley and has some hilarious dialogue, such as this exchange:

“Hello. Is this Gerald Barkley?”


“Yeah. Who’s this?”


A pause on the other end. Then the voice said, “This is Julian Strange.”


The sound of Barkley’s world dipped out. His lips moved but formed no words. The message made it to his mind clear enough—it was just that his mind wasn’t accepting it. “I…this…it can’t be.”


A moment’s pause. Then a giggle, which turned into a laugh. “Nah, just fuckin’ with you. It’s Nicks.” Nicks. Detective Nicks. His second on the case. “Ha. Did I scare you?”


“Jesus Christ, man.”


“Yup, he’s here too. Let me put him on.”

Next comes Track 6: “Janine.” Honestly, I debated whether or not to keep her scenes. Though powerful, I worried their separation from the main plot made them extraneous. Ultimately, I decided to keep them. I’m glad I did.

Barkley’s conflict with Janine moved me. I think I succeeded at presenting a compelling case for both sides of the argument. I also feel the dialogue conveys grief without verging into melodrama.

The next Hidden Track, “A Night with Black Cat Waltz,” remains my favorite part of the novel. I’ve gotten similar feedback from many readers. I think it’s well-written, thrilling, and delightfully surreal. Furthermore, it serves as a keystone for the entire book. As we later discover, Barkley actually appears in this scene (even though we don’t know it’s him). It also offers a big clue about Strange’s late-night visitor. Third, this scene is the closest look at Julian Strange we ever get (while he’s still human, at least).

Also, on an adult note, a few readers noticed the constant references to Julian Strange’s—cover your eyes, kids—penis in this book. Yes, that was intentional. It’s my way of making fun of old rock stars. That’s because, and forgive me for being vulgar, classic rock is basically dick music.

Rock’s lyrics are laden with sex and macho bravado, which is simultaneously one of the genre’s signatures and most problematic elements, especially in a modern context. Some examples:

  • In Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love,” Robert Plant shrieks, “I’m gonna give you every inch of my love.”
  • Humble Pie has a song entitled, “One Eyed Trouser Snake Rumba.” One of the lyrics goes, “I got the key and you got the door.”
  • The Doors’ “Light My Fire” is pretty obvious in its symbolism.
  • AC/DC’s “Go Down” doesn’t even try to hide what it’s about.

And the list goes on. I’m not telling anyone anything they didn’t already know. But since Gerald Barkley Rocks is a comedy at heart and meant to poke fun at its subject matter, I made constant references to Julian Strange’s love gun (as Albert King might call it). Seemed like a fitting joke.

Side III

This side is the shortest in the book (just two tracks), but covers important ground. First of all, it explains Deaths and how they work. Barkley confronts the man in the red coat, and this is the explanation he gets:

“You all have your own Deaths,” the man continued. “We go where you go, for your Death is with you from the day you’re born. And when you are done—and I mean done, done—we take you. Yet usually we go unnoticed.”


“What does that mean?”


“It means each Death is a stranger. It means those who are dying do not notice their Deaths until they are very near the very end. And you’ve noticed me, Gerald Barkley.”

Readers, on the whole, seemed to dig the concept of Deaths. A few even remarked that it felt like something Stephen King might devise, which of course made me blush. Maybe I’ll come back to this concept in the future.

The other important detail from this side: A closer look into Carmen and Barkley’s relationship. I still don’t get why they started dating, but this is where I’m glad they did. Infinite, the restaurant that never closes, is one of my most cherished settings, both because I think it’s a fun concept and because it speaks to the broader theme of the book: the natural yet unattainable desire to live forever.

Of course, I did notice some overwriting. For example, this:

There was no bar music, either—just euphonious and presumably urbane conversation.

“Euphonious,” eh? That feels like I hit up the closest dictionary for a big word. Not my finest moment.

Fortunately, I recovered somewhat with the karaoke scene. Another fun setting here: some weird bar infused with a sci-fi vibe. The drink called “Qui-Gon Gin” is perhaps the best pun I’ve ever devised. And Barkley’s failure to sing works as a nice dramatic moment, plus sets him up for success at the end.

Then comes the William Shakespeare revelation, which I’m still conflicted about. As a refresher, Barkley gives Carmen a gift, which happens to be a Black Cat Waltz album with her picture on it. Shakespeare’s on there, too, and Carmen identifies him as Strange’s visitor on the night he died.

I needed a breakthrough on the case and this seemed to work decently well. On the other hand, as noted by my writer friend Levi Jacobs, the protagonist doesn’t find this breakthrough clue. Rather, it falls into his lap. Yes, this does feel like a flaw in the story. Readers want active protagonists who solve problems, not those who stumble upon answers by mistake.

Another Hidden Track follows this one, and is perhaps the most experimental of the three. It’s a script for a VH1-style music documentary chronicling the downfall of Black Cat Waltz. I feel I achieved the effect I aimed for, plus offered some insight into the band’s inner-workings, along with Julian Strange’s mental state prior to his death.

Side IV

Strange’s funeral is an okay scene, though not one of my favorites. It’s kind of whacky and hearkens back to their Nebula Lounge show in the second Hidden Track, but feels a bit more tame than I wish it could’ve been. Wish I’d written it as a more raucous affair. And then we come to Warren Wilder.

The issue with Wilder, I think, is that it’s pretty obvious he’s not dead. Readers might not necessarily make the connection that he’s the mysterious visitor, but I certainly doubt they believe my attempts to make him seem unimportant (for example, when Nicks claims, “[Wilder’s] probably dead and rotten.”

The encounter with Wilder works well enough, though. He’s pretty funny in a weirdo way, and I always enjoy writing in an old English style.

Then comes Track 12, when Barkley and Strange finally meet. It’s certainly one of my favorite scenes, especially this monologue from Strange (who’s now a kitten):

“And yet [being Julian Strange] brought me no happiness.” The kitten batted its gopher toy, watched it roll away. “At times I found it, but never for long. I’ve been searching for eons. In one life I fought for Jerusalem. In another I was accused of witchcraft. I was an American soldier who stormed the beaches of Normandy. I saw the last of the wooly mammoths wither and die away. I farmed the land in the time of the Song dynasty. I was a Mayan astronomer whose name time forgot. I was Robert Johnson. I was Cleopatra. I was Judas and Brutus both. I was Julian Strange, born Johnson Henry Mudge. I’ve lived many lives, yet never have I felt content. Maybe shitting in a litter box will change all that.”

Finally, we have the final scene. I tried not to be too obvious, though I hope that didn’t leave the result too vague. Barkley’s Death leaves him alone because he’s finally found something to live for. Then come the final lines of the book, which work smashingly, if I do say so myself…

Barkley and Carmen took their bows. Then he kissed her, and she kissed him back, and that got an even bigger hand. The crowd chanted one word, over and over.

“Was it bad?” Barkley asked.

“Terrible,” Carmen answered. “Do you hear what they’re saying?”

A smile parted his lips. “Is it…?”

And Carmen laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. “I think they’re calling for an encore.”

Overall Thoughts

It’s interesting—at times, Gerald Barkley Rocks feels like a rote detective novel. We’ve got a down-on-his luck L.A. cop investigating the murder of a famous person. Yet at other times the book gleefully breaks that mold. For example, Barkley is a decidedly unglamorous main character, plus there’s a ton of supernatural crap happening. And, as it turns out, our murder victim wasn’t even murdered.

I’d give Gerald Barkley Rocks three out of five stars. It has a flawed romantic plot, a rather pedestrian setup, and a protagonist who sometimes fails to be likable or compelling. But I believe the book makes up for those shortcomings with solid themes, intriguing supernatural elements, and a strong ending. Plus, I feel I earned extra points with an innovative structure and daring side stories.

I know, I’m biased. But if you’ve gotten this far, I hope you’ve enjoyed this article. Also, as a thank you, please try this code on Barnes & Noble Press:

BNPBIRTHDAY

Use it between 12/21/2019 and 12/29/2019 to get 50% a hardcover version of GBR.

Happy Birthday, Gerald Barkley Rocks! Hope I didn’t hurt your feelings too bad.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories about coffee.

My Takeaways from NaNoWriMo

December 9, 2019 /

I lost NaNoWriMo.

But don’t feel bad for me—it was a loss by forfeit. And, odd as it may sound, I think it was the right decision.

To recap, I was working on a project entitled Short Contracts. It’s a book about a professional athlete who has underperformed thus far in his career and is trying to start fresh on a new team. The wrinkle is, he plays an invented sport in an epic fantasy world.

I still love the concept. I still love this character, whose name is Four-Leaf, by the way. But while writing Short Contracts for NaNoWriMo, I realized a couple things. First off, this isn’t the story I’m meant to be writing right now. Second, I need to stick to my process.

First point’s first. I did extensive outlining for this story (I’ve found I need these more and more, at least to get started). I had clear answers to who, what, when, where, and why. And yet, as is often the case, things changed when I started writing.

This manuscript was unruly. It didn’t do what I wanted it to do. Though I knew my general story arc, individual chapters seemed to meander on and on without settling on a point. And some characters (the coach of Four-Leaf’s new team being the best example) I simply didn’t know well enough to write. In fact, most of my character work felt uncertain, even for Four-Leaf.

For example, if you read my post from the beginning of last month,  you’ll remember that Four-Leaf used to be a female character. As I wrote, I decided to switch her gender and alter her conflict. Four-Leaf’s head coach, a dude named Harp, also swapped genders. I wrote about 20k words with four point-of-view characters, then started over and scaled down to just these two.

As you can see, I had no idea what I was doing. It felt like walking up a downward escalator: so much work to get nowhere.

Now that’s all understandable for the first few thousand words of a manuscript. You often need time to meet your characters, get a feel for what they do and say. But the moment of revelation never seemed to come, no matter how many words I wrote.

That I suppose I could take. But the worst part of it was this: I wasn’t having fun. I didn’t like these characters because they simply weren’t coming together, no matter how many words I packed in. After about Day 20, I thought, Why do this if it’s not bringing me joy?

The pace of NaNoWriMo didn’t help, either. When writing a manuscript, it’s important for me to read what I’ve written throughout the process. This helps me keep characters and plots consistent while also reminding me that even though it’s a first draft, I’ve done some decent work. By trying to cram 50k words into a month, I didn’t have time for that. All I had time for was new words. No time to edit, no time to reflect on what I’d written.

So I stopped. I realized that Short Contracts is not the book I’m meant to write right now. I moved on.

All told, I ended the month at just north of 40k. Of course, 50k is just a benchmark and not really the point of the month. The point is just to write. However, I’d set the goal of 50k for myself, so it was disappointing to fall short.

Yet I think I learned a valuable lesson: Sometimes you have a story you want to write, but you’re just not ready to write it. I’m not sure why this is and I’m certain the reason varies, but for me, I hadn’t found the right characters for the world I’d created. I’m sure they’ll introduce themselves some day, or maybe I’ll go track them down. For now, I’m moving on from Short Contracts.

But rest assured, I shall return. I’ll come back to the world of epic fantasy sports. In the meantime, I’m on to a new project. So far, I’m happy to say it’s going much better.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories about coffee.

Is All Art Really Quite Useless?

November 25, 2019 /

Oscar Wilde

In the forward to his novel The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde famously wrote, “All art is quite useless.” No question mark at the end.

This statement puzzles me. Why would an artist say art is useless? Did he really believe that? You could interpret this statement as an introduction to the themes later explored in the novel, but I’m not sure I do.

Because when asked by a fan what this famous line meant, Wilde responded with a handwritten letter. In this letter, Wilde posited that art does not and should not inspire action in anyone. If it does, it ceases to be art and instead turns into didacticism. Therefore, if art cannot by its very nature inspire action, then it has no applicable use to anyone.

Oscar Wilde was a brilliant guy. I don’t claim to be smarter than him or a better writer than him. And I’m certainly not a better dresser (see above picture). But I’ll say this: I think art is quite useful.

Art is useful in the way that it moves us. If a work of art can stir emotion, whether it’s delight, sadness, anger, or even disgust, I’d say it’s done something quite significant. After all, if you cried when Bambi’s mom bit the dust (don’t deny it), you cried for a cartoon animal that only ever existed as a series of drawings shown in rapid succession. What else but art has the power to make us care about things that don’t even exist?

Even art that serves merely as distraction, what Wilde describes as “sterile” art, can be useful. Because sometimes we really do need a distraction from reality. When times are tough, it’s cathartic to watch a TV show or read a book—to take a break from what’s going on around us. Art won’t necessarily present us with permanent solutions, but that’s alright. Oftentimes that brief respite gives us the strength we need to face tomorrow’s challenges.

Art helps us better understand each other, which is perhaps one of its most important uses. For example, numerous studies suggest that reading improves empathy. When we step into the minds of characters, their thoughts and feelings are described to us, which bridges a gap we otherwise can’t cross (excluding telepaths). If empathy is understanding how others feel, there’s no better way to develop it than by having those feelings explained to us.

So is all art really quite useless? Well, maybe some of it (the Transformers series of films come to mind). But certainly not all of it. If a particular piece of art moves you, or helps you get through a tough time, or shows you the world from a different perspective, then that piece of art is useful. Quite useful.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction.

Literary Necromancy: Resurrecting Your Dead Manuscript

November 18, 2019 /

Necromancy is generally frowned upon.

People freak out when the White Walkers do it. Sauron took the name “Necromancer” and that seemed to bother some folks. Dr. Frankenstein practiced the art, albeit a bit more scientifically. Even Jesus kind of did it, but he’s Jesus so it’s cool. Otherwise, most would probably tell you that the dead should stay dead.

But what about dead books? I mean those novels that we write, bury, and forget about, the ones that Stephen King calls “trunk novels.” Sometimes we think about them again. Sometimes not.

The question I’d like to answer is this: How can we bring a dead novel back to life? Bust out your Necronomicons, people. We’re about to do some work.

1. Ask Yourself: What has Changed?

Zombie

A simple question, but a necessary one. What’s changed between now and the time you initially wrote your manuscript? Ostensibly, it must’ve been something big.

In my estimation, the best possible answer is that you’ve resolved a plotting issue that had previously held you back. Many novels sputter out and die simply because we can’t figure out what happens next. If we do so posthumously, that’s an excellent reason for a posthumous reexamination.

Alternatively, you might’ve decided that you’re better equipped to tell your story than when you first conceived of it. I’ll give you an example. Referring back to the aforementioned Stephen King (a fan of necromancy himself—cough, Pet Sematary, cough), he’s performed the art with many of his many books. For example, he first conceived of the novel 11/22/63 way back in 1971, even before his first novel was ever published. Yet he decided to bury the idea, resurrecting it only when he found time for the requisite research and developed the literary talent needed for such a book. Same goes for his novel Under the Dome; King first began writing it in 1972, yet let it die. It was reborn again in 1982, then died again. It was reborn a third time in 2009, and that turned out to be its final form.

2. Now Fix It

Now comes the hard part. As the necromancer, it’s your job to remedy the issue that killed your manuscript in the first place.

Sometimes this process comes easy. And since you already performed step one, you have a good idea what needs to change. Concentrate on fixing those elements so that your novel’s reincarnated form is better than its previous one. We want dung beetle to human, not dung beetle to worm.

During the editorial process, you might find that these fixes require huge edits. If you’re willing and able to do the work, this can payoff bigtime. For example, about three years ago I began a manuscript entitled Who the Hell is Julian Strange? May it rest in peace. It was a story about a rock and roll singer named Julian Strange who suddenly and spontaneously returns from death (a novel fitting for this blog post). Moreover, it was about the supporting characters whose lives were changed by this supernatural event. One such character was a self-pitying Los Angeles detective named Gerald Barkley. A man of no particular importance.

Despite a promising beginning, Who the Hell is Julian Strange? died a few months into its life. The characters felt uneven and the plot didn’t seem right. Ultimately, the manuscript itself wasn’t ready for life.

Years later, while searching for something to submit to my writer’s group, I exhumed the corpse of Who the Hell is Julian Strange? Oddly enough, my interest was drawn not to the titular character, but instead to the self-pitying detective, Gerald Barkley. I wanted to know more about this guy. What happened in his life that made him so glum? And, I wondered, could he be redeemed?

The second-coming of my manuscript is entitled Gerald Barkley Rocks. It’s available on ebook, paperback, and hardcover now. Find your copy here.

Anyway, my point is this: let the necromantic process take you where it will. Once you’ve committed to reanimating the corpse of your manuscript, follow the new version wherever it leads you. You’ll find it takes you in all sorts of delightful and unexpected directions.

3. Finish It

I met a zombie once who told me this: “The only thing worse than dying once is dying twice.” The same goes for our manuscripts. Once we commit to necromancy, we should stick with it.

Why? The answer is simple enough. It takes time! You could easily spend that time on a new idea, one that smells better and has fewer maggots crawling all over it. So if you’ve chosen the dead manuscript over a living one, make that time worthwhile. Don’t let your dead ideas die again.

In Conclusion

In some worlds, reviving the dead might be frowned upon. But hey. We’re writers. It’s okay for us to do it, so long as we identify issues, fix them, and finish the process.

You’ve got the skills. Now go do some necromancy.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories about coffee.

Why You Should Be Reading Flash Fiction

September 30, 2019 /

Ernest Hemingway

Just like the name implies, flash fiction is short enough to read in an instant. But if you’re not reading it, here’s why you should be.

Opinions vary on what length qualifies as flash fiction. Some markets say 300 words max, some say 500, others say 1,000. Whatever the case may be, flash fiction has to be really short—which is not to say incomplete. Rather, many flash pieces still have the elements of traditional literature (character, plot, conflict, setting), only they’re condensed. Think of them like shorter short stories.

The form has existed for quite a while, though it wasn’t known as “flash fiction” until 1992, when James Thomas, Denise Thomas, and Tom Hazuka published their anthology Flash Fiction: 72 Very Short Stories. Despite the its relative mainstream obscurity, many high-profile authors have written flash fiction, including Kurt Vonnegut, Ray Bradbury, Joyce Carol Oats, Ernest Hemingway, and H.P. Lovecraft.

In many ways, flash fiction bears a strong resemblance to poetry. Some of my favorite flash pieces create a mood or feeling instead of focusing on narrative, just as some poems do. Others feature complete stories with beginnings, middles, and ends. It’s a flexible form, and one I enjoy very much. In fact, I included three flash pieces in my short fiction collection, Monsters at Dusk.

Thanks to the internet, flash fiction’s popularity has only grown. There are numerous online magazines devoted solely to flash fiction, and quite a few popular markets that publish flash from time to time. Just to name a few: Apex Magazine, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Fantasy & Science Fiction, Flash Fiction Online, and NANO Fiction.

If you’d like to challenge yourself as a writer, flash is a great way to do it. It might sound easy to write 500 words, but when you sit down and think about all the components of a good story, it can be difficult to cram everything in.

Furthermore, with such limited space to work with, your language must be razor sharp. In general, readers are far more forgiving of bland language in long-form narratives. It’s easy to skip a poorly-written section of a novel. But when a piece only lasts about a page or two, that poor writing sticks out like a fly in your drink.

Flash fiction is a unique form which will, in my opinion, only grow in popularity in the future. Word counts are shrinking, attention spans are decreasing, and concision is becoming more and more essential. Try some flash fiction and see if you agree!

Kyle A. Massa is the author of the short fiction collection Monsters at Dusk and the novel Gerald Barkley Rocks. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. He lives somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats.

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