An Experiment in Writing – Part 8: Worthy Antagonists

Problems worthy of attack, Prove their worth by fighting back. — Probably Piet Hein although some say Paul Erdős

 
Hello.

Transderivational, translational me that I am, I’ll apply the above quote to today’s topic.

Today’s experiment is about creating antagonists which are full characters, not stereotypes and more than two-dimensional.

And we also do a brief return to Empty Sky.

Enjoy.

 
Think I’m onto something? Take a class with me or schedule a critique of your work.
Think I’m an idiot? Let me know in a comment.
Either way, we’ll both learn something.

Pick up a few dozen copies of my books. Share them with friends. Think they suck? Share them with enemies. I swear (a lot!) I won’t mind.

An Example of the Experiments – Fains I

Sometime in the mid- to late-1970s, my third time through college (and still having no luck with traditional education of the time), I sat in my study in a rented house on Willand Pond Road and flipped through my copy of Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable (the centenary edition revised by Ivor H. Evans). I wasn’t looking for anything in particular except to be distracted from exceedingly boring classwork.

I found it on pg 409: “Fains I.”

“Fains I” is “a schoolchildren’s term of unknown origin exempting the first to call: ‘Fains I goal-keeping.'”

Dig a little deeper and it’s used to offer protection for someone asserting an unprovable claim.

Dig lots deeper and there’s a reference to “Hercules’ Shirt,” meaning his wearing the skin of the Nemean Lion which was impervious to all but the most powerful weapons (can you say “arms race”?)

That prompted an ~2k word story which is now, thankfully, lost to antiquity.

BTW, that deepest reference is lost except in certain modern retellings of the Hercules legend (such as Dwayne Johnson’s Hercules) in which much of Hercules’ legend is called into question.

Yeah, okay, great.

What’s this got to do with the Experiments (in Writing)?

I mention in An Experiment in Writing – Part 7: Inciting Incidents that my current #work-in-progress is Fains I and that the opening sucks.

Well, of course it does.

And it’s fixable.

I’ve spent considerable neural horsepower over the past few weeks coming up with ways to a) make it better craft-wise and b) make it a better story, period (storytelling).

Some of the solutions point to the (currently 3,425 word) story becoming a novel.

I really don’t want to write another novel right now.

Okay, okay, okay.

What I can do is use Fain’s I as an example of some of the things I bring up in the Experiments in Writing.

Which we’ll begin now, with Fain’s I’s opening paragraph (anybody remember So I gave myself an exercise (eating my own dogfood)…? That’s what we’re going to do here for the next several weeks (or however long it takes for me to decide the story’s working and publishable).
Continue reading “An Example of the Experiments – Fains I

The Book of The Wounded Healers (A Study in Perception) “Chapter 26 – Chess Lessons” now available on BizCatalyst360°

BizCatalyst360°’s Dennis Pitocco wrote a wonderful foreword to my latest novel, The Book of The Wounded Healers (A Study in Perception) and additionally offered to share some reader-selected chapters on the BizCatalyst360° site.

First up is Chapter 26 – Chess Lessons.

Many thanks to Dennis for his wonderful foreword and this opportunity.

My newest novel, The Book of The Wounded Healers (A Study in Perception), is available

The rest of this email contains The Book of The Wounded Healers (A Study in Perception) early reader comments (which are front matter in the book) and a blurb.

<BEGIN HYPE>
“This masterpiece delves into the intricate interplay between trauma, healing, and perception. Through a series of poignant narratives, the Joseph invites readers to contemplate the profound ways in which our experiences shape how we see the world and ourselves.” – Dennis J. Pitocco, Chief Reimaginator, 360° Nation

“I genuinely enjoyed the way Joseph brought the characters to life and the depth of the storyline. Clearly he’s created something unique.” – Ipek Williamson, Transformation Coach, Speaker, Meditation Coach, Author

“Joseph Carrabis is a gifted writer who draws the reader into deep contemplation and self-reflection with each turn of a page, all the while skillfully weaving a story that grabs your attention and holds on till the end.” – Othneil Archer, RBN, Sensitivity Reader

Blurb
How many heartbeats does it take to change the world?

Ben Matthews is a mathematical linguist studying spontaneous languages at Columbia University in New York City. Recently home from committing himself to a northern New Hampshire psychiatric center, he spends a relaxing late-May day bonding with his son, Jiminy, at South Street Seaport.
They’re watching a juggler when the East River to Brooklyn and beyond becomes a white sand desert. A sirocco wind raises waves and whips ice cream wrappers, crumpled napkins, visitor guides, ticket stubs, and other ground level trash intown.
Three creatures, their images shimmering in the heat like a mirage, walk across the sand towards The Battery and TriBeCa South. Ben is knocked down and loses track of Jiminy as people race to safety.
The desert fades away, the sirocco recedes, and the three creatures walk up to Ben. The one in front says, “We are Healers from the Land of Barass.” It points to the one on its right. “He is Cetaf, who cries for his own pain.” It turns to the one on its left. “This is Jenreel, who tends to his own needs. I am Beriah. I will tell you how I feel.”

The creature offers Ben its hand. “We are Healers from the Land of Barass.”
All Ben can think of to say is “I’ve lost my little boy.”
Beriah helps him up. “Then you must find him.”

Ben, aided by The Healers from the Land of Barass, embarks on a quest through Manhattan and learns he’s lost much more than his son, and finds much more in himself.

The Book of the Wounded Healers (A Study in Perception) – Chapter 13 – “Moon Over Manhattan”

The Book of the Wounded Healers (A Study in Perception) – Chapter 13 – “Moon Over Manhattan”

 
It is night. A full moon rises over Manhattan. It casts the skyscrapers in silhouettes such that I expect to hear Ralph and Alice and Norton and Trixie. Behind us is the North River. Across that, New Jersey. We are watching the city slide under Umbra from the docking beds between Bloomfield and Gansevoor streets. I think of all the women in my life and ache for Medea or perhaps some androgynous Morpheus to hold me.

Beriah’s eyes look straight up. He doesn’t need to tilt his head back or lean backwards. “You seldom see the stars here.”

Cetaf does tilt his head back. It’s like watching the top floor of a skyscraper about to fall. “Is it like this everywhere on your world, Ben?”

“No. There are places where you can see all the stars in the sky, I’m told. In the high mountains and in the deserts. Middle of the ocean. At the poles. Some islands, no doubt. I saw lots more up in the woods. They’re tough to see here because of the lights and the buildings.”

Jenreel stares at me, not at the sky. “Are you sure they’re there?”

I wonder if some quiz is coming. “Well, yeah. Pretty sure. I mean, I can’t see them, but I saw them once. Lots more when I was a kid, so I believe they’re there.”

He reaches over his head and stretches. I hear things pop and crack in his arms and back as if some galactic chiropractor is at work in him.

I glance at Cetaf and Beriah. “Is he okay?”

Cetaf looks at Jenreel for a moment as if checking his alignment. “Jenreel, are you okay?”

Jenreel’s arms come down. “I’m fine. I appreciate your concern.” He looks at the sky then at me. “It must be difficult to know where you are and what you are if you can’t see the stars. You could look to the oceans, but they wouldn’t tell.”

I point down. “But we’re here.” I wave my arms around us. “In New York,” I point west, “just east of New Jersey.” I stamp my foot. “Planet Earth.” Tap the pavement. “North America. Terra.” I point to where the sun will rise in the morning. “Sol.” I want to add, “You know all that” but realize I’m not really sure anymore. Especially about that last part. Or any of it, really.

I mean, I’m wandering Manhattan with three creatures who walked in over a non-existent desert, right?

We went over all this before, didn’t we?

Or aren’t you paying attention?

Jenreel shakes his head and shrugs. “You find your place by finding what is around you.”

“Of course. How do you do it?”

“By remembering I am the center of the process. By believing I’m the most important part of the process.”


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