Writing for the Fun of It

By Keith Fisher

When I started writing fiction, I was getting up at five a.m. Mostly, because my restless mind wouldn’t let me sleep longer. I had a stressful job and the workload seemed overwhelming. Every morning I’d show up at six, even though I didn’t need to be there until eight. I would go home each evening and run my house design business. My home office was stacked with blueprints and books on standards, codes, and beam stress.

One night I came home and turned on my computer. Instead of CAD, I loaded word and began to tell a story about a young girl who gets an unbelievable job offer. Is there a hidden price to pay? Are there secrets best left undetected? Will she choose the life of a rich recluse, or follow her dream of being a star?

At the time, I didn’t have any houses to design, so each night I went home and told more of the story. I finished it three months later. In the world of published fiction, at one hundred thirty-six pages, my book stood out as a mediocre first draft. I thought it was fantastic because I had lived the story in my mind. I never considered the reader, and whether others would want to read it too.

As I mentioned last week, in the interest of getting publishing credits, I put the first book aside, and started another book. It wasn’t until after my second book got rejected, that I realized I didn’t know anything about writing a book. I could plot a good story, but I was a terrible wordsmith. I also discovered an increased desire to tell stories. I found myself plotting whole books in my head, from beginning to end while attending sacrament meeting.

I was hooked. How could I turn my back on this? I began to seek help in books about writing, and to rewrite my second book. I created lives just outside my realm. My characters came alive for me and I continued to struggle and tell their story. My day job had become manageable. The stress hadn’t disappeared, but I found release in solving the problems of a character in an impossible situation.

After a while, cheap software products made it easier for homeowners to design and draw their own houses and I didn’t have the necessary resources to build my design business so I put the blueprints away. The design standards and engineering books got moved to a higher shelf. The writing and grammar books came down to a shelf within arm's reach. My office gradually transformed into my writing space.

In 2005 I lost my job, and every time I asked myself what I should do, it kept coming back to, finish my book. I was in the middle of re-writing my second book and writing my third. I submitted my second book to a different publisher. It got rejected—I was devastated—I kept writing. I attended my first writer’s conference in March of 2006 and felt gratified to know there were many others, just like me. I discovered I was normal.

Now that I’m about to submit my sixth book, I look back over the long list of works in process. I have fifteen books in different stages of development. I have been taking chapters of my first book to critique group. I’ve re-written it several times. The last time I took it apart and rebuilt it from the ground up. I hope you will like it.

With all these books I’ve started, you probably guessed, I like writing more than editing. I still have ideas come to me in sacrament meeting, and everywhere else I let my mind wander. I get excited about a new idea and if I can’t persuade someone else to write it, I start drafting it. I write for the pleasure of writing.

I used to mentally walk through the rooms of houses I designed. And see it transformed into the real thing. Now, I launch my mind into a story I have written, walking through scenes as if I was there. Like when someone built one of my houses, my stories will be books and I'll be thrilled when people read them. I want to touch hearts with my books, but in reality, I touch my own heart every day.

Jeffrey S Savage, in his blog, said: . . .writing should be a joy in and of itself. If you don’t love doing it, why bother? I love doing it. I hope you do too. If I looked at my writing with a feudalistic view, I might be tempted to quit. Again from Mr. Savage: Seventy percent of getting published is how well you write. The other thirty percent is pure dumb luck. I write for the fun of it. My completed story has its own rewards.

However, like driving past a house I designed, seeing one of my books on a bookstore shelf will be icing on the cake.

Good luck with your writing—see you next week.

Expanding Horizons

By Keith Fisher

I finished reading a national market book this week. I think I’ll keep the title a secret, since it was a romance and I have an image to uphold. Anyway, I discovered something interesting.
We all have different reasons, but some of us write for the LDS market. The blog you are reading, in fact, indicates that. As for me, I consider it a calling.

I started writing in the LDS market because, as a neophyte, I assumed it would be a good vehicle to get my national market stuff published. I had written a book for the national market, and I thought it would be easier to get publishing credits through the LDS market first. Then get more attention in the national market. So, I wrote another novel.

Neither of those books has been published. About Three years ago, I attended my first LDStorymakers conference. It was great to hear prayers said in that setting, but I had an epiphany. I looked around at my fellow laborers, and felt we were all perched on the edge of a precipice waiting for God to use us. We were ready to influence humanity for good. I wanted to be part of that. I wanted my books to touch hearts and change peoples lives.

So I began to write for the LDS market. Who knew it would be so hard to get published. I continue to hone my skills and I watch LDS writers cross over to the national market. Would that I could write full time and quit my other job.

Then I read the book I mentioned above. It ripped my heart out. I’m still recovering. With IV’s in my arm, and heart monitors making sure I’ll pull through. In a small way, the story touched my life, but it wasn’t an LDS market book. I thought of all the books I’ve read in my life, and remembered how some of them touched my life in one way or other. Most of them were written for the national market, and many of them were not best sellers.

Even with this revelation I still consider it a calling to write in the LDS market. But I’ve decided to dust off my first manuscript and rework it, or toss it. Either way, I’m going to write for both. I think the key for me, will be to keep it clean and work towards touching hearts for good. I don’t want someone reading one of my books and attaching the word Mormon in a negative context to it.

Good luck with your writing—see you next week.

Bringing Up Baby

By Keith Fisher

I sat on the stage in the Multi-stake conference the other day and watched a young mother come into the cultural hall and sit down. I assumed she was a mother because she clutched a baby to her chest and tried to calm him.

The act of her embrace spoke volumes to me. She protected her baby and it was obvious she’d come between him and harm with her dying breath. Also evident, was her quiet joy in her responsibility. She was at peace with her decision to be a mother.

I glanced to the other side and noticed another mother. Her toddler strained to get away and explore the wilds of the cultural hall. It had to be an effort for her to let him explore, keeping him at arms length, ready to snatch him back, if need be, before he got too far from her.

There was another mother behind me. Her boy wanted to climb the ladder on the back wall that leads to the storage room above the stage. This mother waited patiently while her son tried his ability to climb the rungs. But she kindly established the rules of how high he would be allowed to climb. She pulled him off the ladder each time he went higher than she felt comfortable with.

After a while I noticed a mother on the front row. With two returned missionaries, her family is in transition. They stand on the edge of adulthood. Soon she will enjoy the blessings of weddings and grandchildren. Her family will expand and her joy will be full.

It occurred to me that as writers, we are all mothers. Our infants come in the form of a book idea not yet drafted, an article, written but not ready for publication. We tend to protect that work. We would never allow another person to read it. We need time to perfect it, to let it grow.

After a while, with a lot of hard work, our toddler takes on a life of its own. It wants to explore paths you never intended it to go. As a good mother, you listen to the characters. Ideas come to you that would make the story better, but it would change the story and would mean painful revisions. You keep the story at arms length, letting it take you to different places, but ready to pull it back when it goes down paths that would make the story too long or would confuse the reader.

Later, we're ready for others to read and offer suggestions. We take it to our critique group, but like a mother, we establish the rules. If we feel comfortable with the suggestions made, we can write them in or keep them out, if we don't like the suggestions. We are the mother, and we decide how high our baby can climb. You never know, with too many revisions it might fall off the ladder, and become a weak story, with no chance of ever being published.

After a life of revisions, editing, and total re-writes our baby is ready to be published. It goes on a mission and converts some, but it touches the hearts of others. It brings joy into our lives, but it’s not the end. Just like the mother with a family of children ready to expand. We will have a family of stories in different stages of writing. Each one getting ready to be published, getting ready for their place in the sun.

Keep writing, have faith, nourish your stories and like children, they will make you proud.

Good luck with your writing---see you next week.

Which Book First?

By Keith Fisher

I’ve been helping a friend plot a book lately, answering questions like, what do I think would happen if . . . I’m glad to help, and hope my suggestions are of value. With all the talk about my friend’s new book, I found myself wishing I could write it. I’ve been doing edits until they are coming out my ears, or leaking from my brain through some other opening.

Anyway, I’ve discovered I like writing more than editing, (go figure). I’m on a deadline and my book is almost done. I’ll keep you informed.

Editing is a necessary thing, but writing, especially plotting, can take me to the heights of imagination. I can go to exotic places and be an unusual person. I can take myself back into my own past and do it right this time. I like solving plot holes and conjuring alternate ways of achieving a happy ending. I like it more than deleting was’ or spending hours in a thesaurus looking for non-repetitive words.

My preference for writing vs. editing became evident when my critique group finished my current book and I tried to decide which book to bring next. I looked through the writing folder in My Documents and found all my works in progress. As I’ve mentioned before, I have several books in different stages of development.

The first week of critique, I brought the first chapter of The Trophy, a finished book, but it needs revising. It’s a story about a woman, and I knew the ladies in my group would make me put in more emotion. So the next week, I brought the prologue and first chapter of All That Glitters, a book that’s only half finished. The story is about a man who deals with outlaws and such during the California gold rush, but as I said, it’s only half finished and I don’t have time for free writing right now. Remember my editing deadline?

I considered all my other books. Two are finished but need revising, others are, as I said, in different stages. I went back to The Trophy because it’s ready, and I didn’t want to confuse my group too much.

So here I sit, with three edited chapters in two books and I can’t get to those revisions until I finish with the book I’m on deadline for. It feels sooooo good to write this blog. At least I can ignore my deadline for a little while. But I’ll have to work through the night to make up for lost time.

I must admit, however, I am grateful. I have been blessed with a vivid imagination and eventually I’ll have learned enough to write things correctly the first time. Until then, thank you my friend, for allowing me the opportunity to stretch my imagination a little. I hope I have been helpful.

Oh, No, Not another Blog

by Keith Fisher

Yep, another blog. I’ve been on LDS Writer's Blogck since 2005, and I created The Camp Cook in Your backyard for Dutch oven and Camp cooking. I'm also, the author of three current websites, but they aren’t interactive. I needed a blog dedicated to my writing career. An author's drawing card—a place to post book reviews, and contests.

Since I'm almost finished with, The Bed and Breakfast, I'll need a place to keep you informed of the progress as it goes to the publisher. I also, intend to post articles for inclusion in magazines and Newsletters.

So, I launch this new blog knowing full well that there are perhaps a million writers sites. So, check back often. I need the support. I hope to show what it's like to look at life, through my writer's eyes.

Farworld Blog Tour

By Keith Fisher


We are seated in six ancient, animal skin covered armchairs. The sides of which, level with a sitting man’s biceps, allowing the occupant to completely rest his arms. The walls of the circular room are fashioned from 2000-year old cut stone. The floor is polished marble. Above us, there is a domed lattice ceiling with a stained glass window at the apex. Images depicting the sun, moon and the stars artfully adorn the glass panels.

The chairs form a circle around an 18-inch high crystal table. I look up from the images displayed in the crystal to see five companions. To my left is Gorgan the Magnificent. He is the fifth ruler on the Council of Non-Magical Worlds, and he just celebrated his 136th birthday. To his left is Cedric of Herwon, a bright young wizard credited with discovering the three planes of magical existence. Along with his youth there is a little arrogance. He’s agitated, he wants to finish our business and get out of here.

Cialice Magenta sits on my right. She fought bravely at the Battle of Gilhead, rescuing her teacher and killing his captors. She is also my close friend. On her right is Master Therapass, a powerful wizard from Farworld. Directly across from me is the celebrated novelist, J. Scott Savage. He seems to be worried and confused about why he is here. I wonder if his friend, Master Therapass has explained it to him.

As for me, I’m the faker, the usurper. I’m what J.K. Rowling, a writer from Earth called, a muggle. I have no magical power, but that’s okay. I doubt Mr. Savage does either. By virtue of my non-magical status, I have been chosen to officiate in these proceedings. I clear my throat. "Lady and Gentlemen, we have come . . ." I look around. "Some of you, from great distances, to discuss the fate of the magical world, and to examine the charges against Mr. J. Scott Savage."

Master Therapass clears his throat so I turn to him, but he remains quiet. I turn back to Mr. Savage. "You have been charged with conspiring with the Dark Circle, to wreak havoc on Farworld and on its sister world, a non-magical world called Earth. How do you plead?"

"I’ve brought my wizard attorney, (what’s your name again?) ah, right, Richard Bumblestump, to represent me. Okay, he’s not really a wizard. In fact he can’t even do simple card tricks, or the thing where you pretend your thumb is broken in two. And he’s not really an attorney either. Okay, fine, he’s a homeless guy I picked up on the way to the trial. But he does have a black jacket and white shirt—if you wipe away some of the grime."

"Anyhow, he says I should plead not guilty."

"Further more," I continue, "We received testimony from one Mr. Chet Hawkins. He said you wantonly and willfully wrote this book." I hold up my advanced reading copy of Farworld-Water Keep. "This exposé of the workings of the magical Farworld, and the connection it has with Earth, reveals too many secrets kept from non-magical worlds. How do you answer, Sir?"

I whisper with my attorney, but halfway through our consultation he wanders off toward the restrooms.

"Well it looks like I’m representing myself here. So I just want to say that while I did put the words down on the paper, I was only recording events as I witnessed them. I believe that gives me some sort of 5th amendment protection, doesn’t it?"


I turn back to my notes. "Also, and perhaps the worst crime of all, I have a letter written by a Mr. Bonesplitter. He claimed you have continually and maliciously placed Marcus Kanenes into his hands, and it is all part of your attempt to overthrow the magical world. Is this true, sir?"

"Are you seriously going to believe a man who turns into a snake at the most inopportune times? Not to mention the fact, that he has been known to go by at least one alias. I think he’s just embarrassed about the whole underwear incident and is trying to blame me."

"I’m more concerned with the problem he caused." Gorgon says.

"What problem is that, sir?" Master Therapass asks.

"The magical infection the book will inflict on the non-magical world." He picks up my copy of Farworld. "I’m not sure the non-magicals, especially people on earth, can deal with the truth about magic."

"Not to mention the threat of the Dark Circle." Cialice says. "Where did you get that information, Mr. Savage?"

"Ahh, here lies the crux of the matter. You, Mr. Gorgon, seem to be under the impression that there are such things as non-magical folk. I, on the other hand, posit that there are only people who have discovered their magic and those who have not. I don’t believe Mr. Bumblestump, for example has ever discovered his magic. Or if he did, he has long since forgotten it. Isn’t it our right, no, our duty, to help everyone on Earth and Farworld find their magic? I believe that is the only way to stop the threat posed by the Dark Circle and anyone that would seek to hold the rest of society down."

"Never mind that," Cedrick says. "Mr. Savage, I understand the book will be released for sale within a few weeks. Is that true?

"Guilty as charged."

"Well then, my colleagues, it’s a moot point." He looks from face to face. "Even Merlin, wouldn’t be able to stop it now." I glance at Cialice. Judging by her face, she hates being called colleague by a young man. Cedrick continues. "The thing we must do now is, practice damage control. Do you plan to continue telling the story in other books, Mr. Savage?"

"With my last dying breath."


"Listen," Master Therepass raises his hand in a stopping motion. "I know you are worried about Scott’s book. You think it comes too close to revealing the whole truth about the magical world. However, I think its time for that revelation. Other authors from Earth have been revealing bits and pieces of the truth for years. I would call your attention to the work of J.K. Rowling. She brought our world into the limelight, and the people of Earth are embracing it." He paused and looked from person to person at the table.

Therepass continues. "I say we praise those authors, including J. Scott Savage. I believe it’s time our two worlds combine against the threat of all dark forces everywhere. We can co-exist."

I turn to Gorgon. His face reminds me of a child who has eaten something sour. "It flies in the face of thousands of years of conventional wisdom, but perhaps it is time we work together. Personally, I get tired of practicing the damage control Cedrick suggested."

I poll my colleagues and find agreement. "Well, Mr. Savage, it appears we have decided to grant you freedom to tell the story. Please, try to teach your fellows that magic is not to be feared, and help them be brave and stand against darkness. I glance around the circle for one last vote of consensus. "Do you have anything you wish to say in closing, Mr. Savage?"

"Thank you, Master Therapass. I appreciate your support. People of Earth and those of other worlds, don’t let "reality" stand in the face of what you believe. One day we are going to discover that these other worlds are not as distant as we think. And when that day comes we must have discovered the magic inside all of us."

"Thank you, and now I must go in search of Mr. Bumblestump. I think he may have locked himself in the janitor’s closet. I hate to think of what he might have done in the mop bucket."


"Thank you Mr. Savage. You have given me hope. Perhaps someday I will discover my magic as you say I can. I also wish to apologize for saying you have no magical power. Obviously I was wrong. You most assuredly have the magical powers to make a well written, well told story."


Farworld-Water Keep
writen by J.Scott Savage

Available September 13 2008
you're invited to the lauch party! for more information go to
http://www.readfarworld.com/

Learn about the magical world and follow Marcus, Kyja, Mater Therepass, Riph Raph, and others as they jump between Earth and Farworld in an effort to defeat the evil Dark Circle. Begin the journey that will change your life.


First, Find the Water Keep.
Take courage--the magic is inside you"

Going to the Store

By Keith Fisher

It’s been kind of hectic lately. I’ve been trying to finish the edits on my book and my day job is always disruptive. I work graveyard shift, so sleep can be elusive. Anyway, because of an unsettled week, I’ve been pressed for a subject to write about in this blog. So, out of desperation, I thought I’d tell you about my trip to the grocery store.

The guests were invited—the Dutch ovens were ready. I wanted to cook something special, something my guests would enjoy. So I went to the store to decide what it would be.

Walking through the doors, I spied the coolers and made a mental note to pick up a bag of ice on the way out. I stopped and chose a cart. Not that I planned to fill it, just lean on it, as I walked down the aisles.

As I always do, I turned to the right and headed for the produce department. Starting with vegetables is probably left over from my low-fat/no sugar/no salt period when I avoided the rest of the store. It just feels right to start there, and go counter-clockwise through the rest of the store. I checked out the broccoli, then the cauliflower, lettuce, carrots, and fruit. It’s a good thing I got a cart.

Next, I moved past the deli. I paused, thinking, maybe I ought to buy something already prepared, then I could serve it in a Dutch oven and get back to editing. No, I couldn’t take credit for somebody else’s cooking. I turned my head and passed quickly. In the bakery, I picked up a couple of loaves of bread for home, and perused the cookies, cakes and pastries. I must resist.

I remembered my purpose and delayed the trip down the aisles of canned goods to go directly to the meat section. I needed to decide on a main dish. After that, I could make up my mind about side dishes.

With that decision made, I went back and wove in and out of the aisles, looking for different ingredients. I chided myself for picking things up for the house.

I needed only one or two more things when something stirred my memory. I realized I could change my plan and cook the meat with another sauce. But then I’d have to change my side dish from baked beans to potatoes, but the whole meal would be better.

After a short debate, I went back to find more ingredients, keeping the other ones in case I changed my mind again. Finally, I shook my head and proceeded through checkout. I racked up a small fortune on my credit card, but visions of a perfect dinner made it worth the cost.

Writing is very much like this. When plotting a story, we shop for ideas. We want our book to be perfect to excite the reader. So we go shopping for the meat of the plot—the basis of the whole thing. We pick up other, non-essential elements along the way, things that we can use somewhere, even if we don’t use them in our current story.

It must be original, so we avoid copying parts of other books, but like the pastries, we admire what other authors have written and learn from them. At this point we remember our purpose and look for the basic premise, or the meat of the story. Sometimes an idea comes to us without thinking, but other times we are left reading newspapers, looking for ideas. Similar to inspecting different cuts and types of meat.

With our idea in mind, we shop for details, what will our characters be like? How can we put them in certain situations? We search for side trips, and secondary story lines, we look for ingredients that will compliment, not deter the plot. We find nuances that enhance, and make the story interesting.

Sometimes when we’re almost finished writing the first draft, we think of another, better way to write the book. Sometimes a character rises up and explains the holes in our plot or suggests a better way to tell the story. They even suggest new characters. At that point, we go back and make adjustments. We file away the discarded bits, because we might need them in another story—we might put them back into the current one.

When we’re finished making notes and shopping for elements we go to checkout. We have written our first draft, and we’re ready to write the story, confident in our ability to combine the ingredients. We pay the price, an investment of time and talent. We’re secure in the knowledge that our dinner/book will be delicious and wonderful. We smile, because we know the ending and we can’t wait for others to discover our story/dinner.

Good luck with your writing—see you next week.