Quite the Life (and all in Times New Roman 10pt!)
My peanuts, that is.
What filthy minds you have.
Charlie is off camera in this video.
Sneaky chipmunk that he is.
He waits.
For his peanuts.
Happy to provide.
And for the Bunnies, too. Calvin here. Or Kelvin.
Their accent, you know.
Must spend more time learning Lepin.
You know any good books you can recommend?
an interesting person in an interesting place doing an interesting thing
I’m reviewing a young writer’s work and, although nicely written, wasn’t engaged by it – at least not as engaged as I want to be to read a complete novel. This is (for me) the #1 reason I reject something as Senior Fiction Editor of Wilderness House – no inciting incident
What is an “inciting incident” and what makes a good one?
Traditionally, an “inciting incident” is the “why is this happening?” of a story, the one thing which must happen for the rest of the story to happen.
I broaden that out a bit. Inciting incidents answer the reader’s question “I’m reading this because…?” That question is answered with “Have an interesting person in an interesting place doing an interesting thing.” You can have two of the three and still have a good opening. You can have one but it’s got to be incredibly strong for the reader to continue.
Think I’m on to 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.
And go buy my books so you can follow along!
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.
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.”
Previous entries in The Book of the Wounded Healers (A Study in Perception) series
BizCatalyst 360°’ Chief Imagineer and Founder Dennis Pitocco wrote a beautiful forward to my The Book of The Wounded Healers (A Study in Perception), and also offered to share some chapters (selected by my first readers) on the BizCatalyst 360° site.
First up is Chapter 19 – Home Runs.
Enjoy.
From the original postings in 2022:
From 2024:
