How Photographers See the World Differently Than Writers

The Writer’s Bone crew asked some of their photographer friends if they would contribute to the website so writers could get a sense of how different creative types see the world around them. This is the first post in an ongoing series.

By Cristina Cianci

The combination of the way light reflects off objects and a perfect human reaction is such a rush to capture!

When I was 11 years old, I was given my first real camera as a Christmas gift from my aunt and uncle. I was instructed to take it with me to Italy that summer. A gold 35 mm film point and shoot camera that fit perfectly in my little bright blue drawstring GAP backpack. By age 12, I was too cool for that, so I upgraded to Kodak throwaway cameras. They came with me everywhere: field trips, field days, and last days of school for the next three years. I loved a really great snap shot, a moment filled with a lot of high energy and emotion. Age 16: I got my first digital camera, with a memory card and the whole shabang. Throughout high school, I stuck to the status quo with Canon digital point and shoots.

I went to the School of Visual Arts in New York City to study photography. During this time I learned about an array of different mediums and photographers, and soon realized I really loved film photography. As I was training my eye, William Eggleston inspired me. My professors and confused friends constantly informed me that this was a prehistoric art form. I've learned to be quick witted in my responses to "What is that thing?" and "But how do you get them on Facebook?"

It's been fun.

Ever since college, I've been married to my Kodak disposables, all my film cameras, and of course my iPhone camera. Nowadays, they come with me everywhere, in all shapes and sizes, and as many that can fit in my Mary Poppins bag.

Here are 10 of my recent favorite moments captured on film (or iPhone!):

1. My sister from the lens of my iPhone.

2. Venice, Italy, from the lens of my Minolta 35 mm film camera this past summer.

3. My cousins in Italy reaction to my arrival from the lens of a disposable camera.

4. A reflection that caught my eye from the lens of my iPhone in the Italian Alps this past summer.

5. Summer sun rays in the backyard from the lens of my iPhone.

6. First dance as husband and wife at a family wedding from the iPhone.

7. Dunes at dusk this past fall from the iPhone.

8. My cousin, about to fall off a boat, but managing to save the found Starbucks in Italy from my Minolta 35mm film camera. #priorities

9. Backstreet Boys reunion tour bliss this past summer from my iPhone.

10. One of my favorite snap shots from Verona, Italy, this past summer caught on 35 mm film from my Minolta camera.

For more essays, check out our full archive. 

What You Don't Want to Hear as a Journalist: "You’re A Terrible Interviewer"

President Obama on "Between Two Ferns"

By Matt DiVenere

You know those brain farts that you get sometimes? Maybe you walked into a room with a purpose, but within seconds completely forgot why you were there? It happens to all of us. Unfortunately, when it happens to journalists, it ends up on YouTube.

There’s been two pretty significant “bad interviews” in the past week – one was intentional, and one was, unfortunately, not.

The first was by comedian and beard-aficionado Zach Galifianakis. Yes, it was in complete satire and was for marketing purposes for the Obamacare healthcare website; however the interview with President Barack Obama was quite a success. A 40 percent increase in traffic to the government website along with the video itself being seen over three million times within hours on the Funny or Die website can be characterized as a job well done for the marketing geniuses behind this.

I’m no stranger to the “Between Two Ferns” web series by Galifianakis. I’m a fan of anything he’s done, especially from a comedic standpoint (Don’t get me started, I can talk comedy for days). Despite the obviously-scripted dialogue from the President, Galifianakis delivered yet again.

If you watch other episodes from this series, the idea of a “terrible interview” rings loudly. It got me to thinking about my early days in journalism and a few of my very noticeable flops. But before I could elaborate on those “glory day” memories, the Internet hit it rich again.

That’s gold, Jerry! Gold!

Listen, I don’t watch Piers Morgan’s show on CNN (and, judging by the show’s ratings and the fact he was fired, not many other people do either). But if the person you interview all of a sudden tells you how terrible you are as an interviewer instead of answering your question, you’ve done something wrong. And it’s probably not just one thing, it's probably the entire thing.

Every time you sit down for a one-on-one interview with someone, it’s as intimate as you can be on a verbal level with a stranger. So there’s a very real possibility that at some point you or the person you’re interviewing is going to be as uncomfortable as they will ever be in their life during your interview. That will happen. A good interviewer will steer you back into the conversation, while others will just leave you flailing in the wind.

My very first interview in college still haunts me to this day. My first-ever college journalism class gave us an assignment on the first day to go out and interview a resident director about college life and their job. So I set up the interview, get my pad and paper, and head over to her office. Well, I walked in, introduced myself, took a seat, and bam! Nothing. Completely forgot the questions I was going to ask. I then decided to spend the next 15 minutes asking her about things that she didn’t even care about. Abruptly, I stood up, thanked her for her time and left.

By the time I got outside, I realized what I just did. All of my dreams and aspirations came crashing down on me at that moment. What in the world am I doing? Luckily, I willed myself to turn around and redo the interview.

Now, whenever I go to an interview, you better believe I have some topics and questions written down in my notepad.

For more essays, check out our full archive. 

Why Going to the Library Is Still Important

Sean Tuohy tells a poignant story about going to the library and Daniel Ford rants about receiving library books for Christmas one year.

For more essays, check out our full archive. 

Quentin Tarantino Likes His Orange Juice With Pulp

Quentin Tarantino

By Dave Pezza

After searching the hotel’s only two floors for a working vending machine, to no avail, I trudged to the front desk wearing unlaced boots, boxers, and an undershirt. I plopped my ice bucket, filled to the brim, on the counter. Looking at the concierge in the eyes, I said in desperation,

“Please tell me there is a working Coke machine somewhere?”

“Sorry. Both of them are broken.”

Despair ran down my face like wet paint.

“But we have cans of Coke down here…” she offered quickly in a tone of faux concern that all customer service workers use.

Hope.

“It’s warm though; is that okay?”

I looked at her blankly, then down to my bucket, then back to her.

“Yeah. That’ll work.”

Back in the room, I kicked off my boots, dropped the bucket of ice on the bathroom floor next to my flask and the ridiculously small plastic cup hotel’s provide with your ice bucket. Naked now, I test the bath water with my foot, balancing myself on the wet tile wall and the wet tile floor, hoping I don’t slip and go out naked in some hotel bathroom in Fairfield, Conn. The water was still hot! A minute later I am in the tub with a kiddie-sized plastic cup full of ice, Coke from a can, and Sailor Jerry rum watching Quentin Tarantino’s first major film, “Reservoir Dogs,” on my iPad.

For those of you unfamiliar with the screenwriter, director, and actor (or his movies), Tarantino exploded into Hollywood with his 1992 film “Reservoir Dogs.” His unconventional style of storytelling, compelling dialogue, and campy violence earned him an immediate cult following. Two years later, Tarantino would win an Academy Award for best original screenplay for his nod to 1970’s crime films "Pulp Fiction." He has made several movies since, drawing such actors as Bruce Willis, Leonardo DiCaprio, Uma Therman, Brad Pitt, Samuel L. Jackson, Robert De Nero, John Travolta, Christopher Walkin, and James Gandolfini to his projects. And it all started with a $1.5 million project that Tarantino wrote in three and a half weeks.

As I sit fully emerged in steaming water with only my head and right arm above the water to tilt cold cocktail into my gullet, “Reservoir Dogs” opens with Tarantino’s self-cast character, Mr. Brown, attempting to analyze Madonna’s radio hit “Like a Virgin.” The preliminary opening credits roll in gold lettering on a black screen to Mr. Brown’s voice saying,

“Let me tell you what like a virgin is about. It’s all about a girl who digs this guy with a big dick. The entire song is a metaphor for big dicks.”

Consider how ballsy a move this is. A no-name director who has spent every dime to his name on a movie that opens with a self-cast character trying to convince the audience that Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” is about big dick. And it worked. Audiences ate it up, and "Reservoir Dogs" is still a cult classic.

Mr. Brown continues, “Pain. It hurts. It hurts her…The pain is reminding a fuck machine what it was once like to be a virgin.”

Tarantino describes here the essence of his entire career in the first words of his first major work.

Tarantino has come under a lot of criticism from mainstream film critics and media for his unoriginality, gratuitous use of the N-word, and obsession with violence. Tarantino has made a career of emulating his favorite genres of films. “Reservoir Dogs” is his take on heist films; “Pulp Fiction:” crime films; “Kill Bill:” Kung Fu and samurai films; “Inglorious Bastards:” World War II movies; “Django Unchained:” spaghetti westerns. This tour de film has caused some to brand him a copycat. As far as originality is concerned, Tarantino has won two Oscars for his original screen plays “Pulp Fiction” and “Django Unchained.”

What is more telling, and much more subtle, is how all of Tarantino’s movies loosely fit into an overarching universe. For a better connect the dots of this universe see the Cracked.com article about said topic.

Here is a quick and dirty version: Tarantino’s world is loosely held together by the principle that culture, namely films, has an intense effect of reality. In this universe, World War II was ended by a few violent American agents shooting and blowing up Hitler in a movie theater in France. As a result, American culture becomes hyper-sensitive to film culture. One of the American commandos, Donny Donowitz, in “Inglorious Bastards” is the grandfather of the Hollywood film producer in Tarantino’s “True Romance.”

Films like “Reservoir Dogs” and “Pulp Fiction” are about people who live in this alternative America. Mr. Blonde in “Reservoir Dogs,” whose real name is Vic Vega, is the brother of hit man Vincent Vega in “Pulp Fiction.” Other Tarantino movies, like “Kill Bill” and “Grindhouse,” are films that people in this universe would go see—films within films, if you will. If reality in the Tarantino universe is as violent as “Pulp Fiction," how gory and desensitized would a movie in that universe be? The answer might be why "Kill Bill" is literally drenched in gore. So gory that Tarantino was forced to shoot part of the movie in black and white.

There are numerous other tells, like Red Apple cigarettes, a fictional brand of cigarettes seen in several of Tarantino’s movies. All of this, of course, is oh so trite.

Tarantino came under particular criticism for his characters’ use of the N-word in his film “Jackie Brown,” Tarantino’s adaptation of Elmore Leonard’s Rum Punch. This criticism came up again this past year with the release of his latest movie, “Django Unchained,” which is set in the antebellum south. Many called his exorbitant use of the N-word in the film offensive; the word is used more than a hundred times Tarantino’s response to these criticisms is more apt than anything I could come up with:

“As a writer, I demand the right to write any character in the world that I want to write. I demand the right to be them, I demand the right to think them and I demand the right to tell the truth as I see they are, all right? And to say that I can't do that because I'm white, but the Hughes brothers can do that because they're black, that is racist. That is the heart of racism, all right. And I do not accept that ... It would not be questioned if I was black, and I resent the question because I'm white. I have the right to tell the truth. I do not have the right to lie.”

Boom!

As far as his obsession with violence is concerned, yeah there is a lot of violence and gore in Tarantino films, agreed. But there is also a lot of violence in Michael Bay films, and James Cameron movies, and in most contemporary visual media. Those cries fall on deaf ears here.

As Tim Roth’s character bleeds out in the back of car on my iPad, I chew ice from the plastic cup. Refilled, I slide down in the tub and feel the warm water around me and the cold rum running down my throat. I realize something, something beyond Tarantino’s style or his racial language or his violence.

He’s just fucking cool.

The way he makes his characters speak their diction, each word chosen carefully and delivered with poise and deliberateness by his actors, has been lacking in film for quite some time. The way John Travolta rolls his cigarettes, the way Tim Roth delivers his commode story, or Uma dances around in her living room. It all makes you believe that people can still act and talk and move like this, with purpose, with attitude. In a culture filled with sweatpants in public, aluminum beer bottles, the infestation of the word “like,” and constant social media babbling, at least someone is still dedicated to cool. There is hope in Tarantino films, hope that we can still be cool and self-aware as a culture.

When I sit down to watch his movies, it reminds me of what it felt like when I smoked my first cigar or drank my first mouthful of bourbon. It reminds a white collar stooge what it was once like to have thoughts and actions as one, smooth and steady, and what it is like to be cool as fuck.

And as long as you force yourself never to forget this, perhaps while naked in a hotel tub loaded on Coke and Sailor Jerry, then maybe you’ll never lose it.

For more essays, check out our full archive. 

45 Seconds or Less: How to Write the Perfect Acceptance Speech

By Hassel Velasco

I proudly accept this award...for those untold millions struggling to empty their Netflix queues.

I moved out to Los Angeles eight months ago.

I’m proud to announce that in this short time span I have accomplished the unthinkable. I have emptied out my Netflix instant queue.

And the crowd goes wild…

Of course, by crowd I’m talking about me and my cat. And to honest, he didn’t exactly go wild. I think he just meowed because he needed to poop. But still!

Now that the whole Netflix thing is out of the way—I had to tell someone, personal accomplishment, I apologize—let’s queue the award show music. With the Academy Awards creeping up on us like Joaquin Phoenix’s creepy mustache in “Her,” I thought it would be as good a time as any to think about my future acceptance speech.

Writing a good acceptance piece has to be one of the hardest things ever. At least it would be for me. Let’s run down an average acceptance speech. So, there are many people to thank and only 45 seconds to do so.

Since we’re not in a rodeo, in order to write the greatest acceptance speech ever, we have to be very careful and narrow down the speech to a comfortable margin while adding a couple of pause-breaks in there—let’s not forget to pause for applause and laughter).

A potential list of people to thank:

• Wife
• Kids
• Parents
• Siblings
• Random family members you owe money to
• Director
• Producer
• Cast
• Crew
• “The Academy” (or other award giving entity)
• The agent/manager taking the money you owe your random family members
• Lunch lady (who at one point in middle school said you looked like a heavier and more ethnic Desi Arnaz, forcing you to ask yourself how ethnic that made you)
• Any other special person in your life whom you couldn’t be here without (bookie, drug dealer)
• God (or Harvey Weinstein…your choice)

Hmm, once you actually put it in writing, this is a long laundry list you are bound to not remember when your name is called.

So let’s trim the…ahem…ethnic fat:

• I don’t have kids, so we can cross that one out.
• Wife? #sadface.
• Parents? I’m a softie for my parents, so this one is staying on.
• Siblings and random family members? Nope. I only have 45 seconds, I mean, come on. 
• Director and producers? I have a better idea, I’ll just say something like, “I’d also like to thank everyone involved with the film, from the director to the grips and PA’s.” That should take care of a lot of people.
• The Academy of Motion Picture will get a thanks because they did something at some point…I guess.
• Agents and managers should get a nod, just one though because the second nod is another 10%.
• Lunch Lady? Fuck her. 
• God? Technically he could be written in as a producer, but no one likes someone who takes credit for work they didn't do (FYI: the views expressed here are the views of Hassel and in no way the views of Writer’s Bone, but Daniel and Sean are nodding), so I think Harvey Weinstein would be my choice to thank instead of the Big Man.

Phew, I think that makes for a solid acceptance piece. That was a lot to fit into 45 seconds.

Now I just need someone to fund my “Post-Apocalyptic Little House on the Prairie” script (for your consideration…), and I’ll be on my way to the dais!

For more essays, check out our full archive. 

Driving Around in Vans With the Boys: A Story of Friendship, Music, and High School

By Sean Tuohy

As I write this piece, I am sitting in my bedroom looking out the window at snow-covered rooftops and blue skies, but my mind is 10 years in the past.

I’m sitting in the back of a Dodge van as it drives through the suburbs of sunny South Florida. I'm with two of my best friends singing along to Blink-182's “M+M’s.” I've had a lot of wonderful moments in my life that I have shared with great people, but I tend to hold the moments I shared with Jorge and Michael during our teenage years closet to my heart because it was times of pure joy. It was three friends with little to do; just talking and listening to music. Blink-182 provided the music that bonded us together and formed the foundation of our friendship.

The pop punk band seemed to be the perfect soundtrack to high school life. The songs talked about the confessions of being a teenager, the pranks and joys of being with friends, and the fear of talking to the opposite sex. The same issues we suffered through  daily were written down and put to music. It made high school somewhat easier for us.

Nearly 10 years later, the three of us are spread out along the Eastern seaboard and have started to create our own lives and careers. However, all three of us still hold a special spot for Blink-182 and the memories we formed with their songs. I was able to catch up with the boys and ask them about their memories and feelings about the band and our time together in high school.

Sean: When and where did you start listening to Blink 182? 

Michael: It was the year 2000. I was in sixth grade. I first remember hearing "All the Small Things" on the radio. Shortly thereafter my older brother purchased the "Enema of the State" CD, and I remember instantly falling in love with the album. I didn't know anything about music, but this CD told me I was about to learn. Everything changed for me after listening to the album. My personality changed, I learned new words and phrases, mostly of an explicit nature, and I learned a lot about the human anatomy.  

Jorge: I started listening to them in elementary and middle school but got more into them in high school. 

Sean: What connected you to Blink-182? Lyrics, sound, look?   

Michael: Definitely a combination of both lyrics and sound. The lyrics were hilarious even though most went over my head. The lyrics gave the music an edge and gave me something I could connect with, whether it be about feelings for a girl at school, hanging out with friends, parties, or experiences with aliens. In terms of sound, the band produced arguably the best pop punk music ever recorded. The songs never sounded a like, each offered something new, and hit its listener with a punch of energy and melody that is hard to match. It was the perfect music for the time.  

Jorge: The style. The honesty of their playing. What it meant to be a kid in high school, going through changes. Issues with parents, school, relationships with the opposite sex and friends. All kinds of honest perspectives on adolescence.  

Sean: We were in high school and listened to this band a lot. What Blink-182 song reminds you the most of high school? 

Michael: The whole self-titled album reminds me most of high school, probably because it was released around that time. The song "Feeling This" is probably the song off that album that most reminds me of high school.  

Jorge: Hmmm. “M+M’s.” 

Sean: Do you think we connected to Blink-182 so much because they wrote about teenage life; going to shows, girls, and Star Wars? 

Michael:  Blink was sort of my anthem between the ages of 12 through 18. I think its lyrics related to my life and the music expressed how I was feeling, and sometimes how I continue to feel, but most of all, it was something my friends and I could listen to together and enjoy. It was the background music when I played hockey inside my house with friends, rode in the car with a friend, was at a friend's house, or at a party. I think there's a social element to Blink's music. It doesn't really feel right when listening to it alone, or at least, the music doesn't have its full effect when your not with others. I think it brings people closer. 

Jorge: Absolutely.

Sean: What is Blink-182's most well-written song? 

Michael: "Asthenia." Just behind that is "Going Away to College," "Man Overboard," "Carousel," "Adam's Song"...I feel like I should stop, but I don't want to.  

Jorge: “Every Time I Look for You.” 

Sean: Is there some Blink-182 song lyrics that stick out in your mind and why?  

Michael: "Got a lot of heartache/he's a fucking weasel" from "Dysentery Gary" sticks with me. That intro really got my attention and I listened to that song perhaps more than any other off the "Enema of the State" album. "Well I guess this is growing up" from "Dammit" also comes to mind since it's one of the best songs from Blink and these lyrics capture its essence. They also repeat it a 100 times.  

Jorge: "I never did do anything that she asked/I never let what happened stay in the past/I never did quite understand what she meant/In spite of everything/In spite of everything." From my favorite song, "Every Time I Look for You." I just think that this is a combination of everything people do wrong in relationships and solid advice if you look at this as what not to do.  

Sean: "It's alright to tell me what you think about me" What is the first memory that comes to mind when you hear these lyrics? 

Michael: The music video is the first thing that comes to mind. It also brings me back to hanging out with my brother and friends, listening to "Dammit" with a CD player while riding the school bus, and trying to learn the intro to this song when I was a beginner at guitar.  

Jorge: Life and people being too afraid to tell people how they actually feel.The first memory is an image of an ex-girlfriend who, I feel, never told me everything she honestly felt.  

Sean: Will Blink 182 always remind your teenage years or does it mean something more to you? 

Michael: It means something more. I can recall a great experience with a lot of people who are important to me where we were listening to Blink. It's always a good time when their music is on.

Sean: Last question, if you were given the chance to go back in time and relive the afternoons driving around listening to Blink-182 would you do it?

Michael: Of course, and if we are all in town, I don't see what is stopping us from down it again. 

For more essays, check out our full archive. 

We Interrupt This Broadcast for...Wait...What?

We have a feeling Justin Bieber wouldn't have gotten these guys attention.

By Matt DiVenere

As long as I can remember, I have wanted to be a journalist. To me, being a journalist was to hold a position of trust and respect not only in a community, but nationally. So when it came to choosing a major at Saint Michael’s College (located in Colchester, Vt.), there was no hesitation. I walked into my first journalism class filled with enthusiasm, excitement and confidence.

Fast forward to Jan. 22. A live report on MSNBC with former U.S. Representative Jane Harman is suddenly interrupted by breaking news. However, the current conversation involved the National Security Agency and Harman’s belief that the government needed to end the Section 215 bulk phone records collection program. What could have been so important that this conversation, taking place via satellite from Switzerland, had to be interrupted?

Well, if you’ve been following the news at all lately, you would know that the breaking news was pop singer Justin Bieber facing a judge at a video bond hearing for an alleged DUI charge.

Now this isn’t about bashing Bieber. This is about the decision made by television executives to interrupt the Congresswoman for entertainment. Let’s look at this purely from a journalism perspective.

Remember when lawyer jokes were all the rage? Well, unfortunately, the only joke I hear now is about the field that I love. The definition of journalism has changed. Being a journalist now has a very negative connotation. There used to be a line drawn in the sand between the news found on your doorstep and the news found next to the check-out counter at your local grocery store.

No more. 

Entertainment has become the news.

There are many reasons as to why or how this even happened. Some say it was inevitable. The uninformed believe that this is how the media needs to adapt in order to stay relevant in today’s society. To those who believe that entertainment is news, I would say that my college education disagrees.

Entertainment is not the news. You need the news, entertainment is a luxury.

Unfortunately, those who are doing the news answer to those who don’t necessarily care that there’s a difference. Entertainment brings ratings. With high ratings come advertisers, profits, etc. If a television program wants to survive, people need to be entertained. It’s the same reason why "American Idol" is on its 80th season (it’s not, it just feels like it)?

In the past five to 10 years, everyone’s attention span for news-related information has nearly become extinct. Instead, it has been replaced with the desire to know the latest gossip about our favorite “celebrities.”

In an age where there is an infinite amount of ways to collect breaking news, why focus on how other people live their lives? Why do you care more about which celebrity is pregnant than the nation’s economy? Why is a celebrity’s arrest record more important than their country’s security agency that may or may not have been spying on its citizens?

So how do you fix this infatuation with celebrities that has taken over the country? If I knew, I would be a billionaire conglomerate on my way to overtaking all of the cable networks across the country. 

This situation is so absurd that it's pathetic. And there’s no easy fix.

Until someone figures out what the news has become and is brave enough to do something about it, then we will continue to have our important news be interrupted by pop stars in orange jump suits.

For more essays, check out our full archive. 

Remembering Sid Caesar: His Show of Shows Made Our Shows

"The trouble with telling a good story is that it invariably reminds the other fellow of a dull one." Sid Caesar

By Sean Tuohy

Sid Caesar passed away last Wednesday night.

Caesar had one of the first hour-long comedy shows on American television, he jump-started the careers of a dozen comedy heroes, and he had been acting in television and movies for nearly sixty years! Still don't know him?

Wait, there's more! He was the coach in "Grease." He was the one who helps John Travolta get into shape.

That guy! That guy was the man who help shaped television comedy. Without Ceaser's wacky off-the-wall comedy and his showmanship there would be no "Saturday Night Live," "Family Guy," or any other television comedy program.

Caesar was brought to Americans from coast to coast with his show "Your Show of Shows." This program combined goofy humor, vaudeville, and Broadway musicals.

Sid knew how to capture an audience and how to keep them laughing. "Your Show of Shows" featured over the top skits like the famed "The Clock" skit and "The German General" skit which left viewers slapping their knees.

There had never been anyone like Caesar before because, well, there had never been television before. Caesar had what every comic wants: perfect timing, facial features that could make a British solider laugh, and the ability to work a crowd.

Caesar also had an eye for talent. When putting together the writing staff for "Your Show Of Shows"  Caesar went out and hired several unknown writers: Mel Brooks, Woody Allen, Carl Reiner, and Neil Simon. He approached comedy writing like an art form. He spent long hours working on a single joke until he knew it was perfect. His staff spent hours locked away in a room coming up with skits. Caesar was known for a short temper which kept his young staff in check. He once held a young Mel Brooks out a window in downtown New York City because Brooks didn't find one of Caesar's jokes funny.

"Your Show of Shows" only lasted for one year, but its impact on comedy writing and the culture is everlasting. I would discover Sid Caesar at the age of 19 and from that point forward dream about working in a comedy writing room like "Your Show of Shows." With Sid's passing I feel that part of comedy has died. I cannot allow myself to get to sad because Sid would have not wanted that. He would want me to crack a joke and make someone laugh, even if it was at his expense.

For more essays, check out our full archive. 

The Art of the Beginning: How to Seduce Your Reader

By Daniel Ford

I want you to think of how some of your favorite books began. While you ponder that, here are a couple of mine:

“It was inevitable: the scent of almonds always reminded him of the fate of unrequited love.”—Love in the Time of Cholera

“When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow.”—To Kill a Mockingbird

“Arawak men and women, naked, tawny, and full of wonder, emerged from their villages onto the island’s beaches and swam out to get a closer look at the strange big boat.”—A People’s History of the United States

“He was the last one to act.”—Sid Sanford LIVES!

Okay, I cheated; the last one is from my novel that hasn’t been published yet. Hey, I wrote it, it can be my favorite if I want dammit.

The scariest thing about sitting down to write is trying to figure out where to start. You’ve got one chance to make a first impression. Your book cover did a great job of getting that book into a reader’s hands, but you’ve got to do the rest of the heavy lifting when that reader turns to the first page. What’s your “Call my Ishamel” or “You better not never tell nobody but God''? Thinking about your opening line should keep you up at night because you want it to one day keep readers up at night long past their bedtimes.

How my beginnings generally look.

Usually, there is much more coffee than featured in this photo. 

I happen to love beginnings. It’s the middles and the ends I struggle with, and really who needs them? With a few exceptions, you’re never going to love a novel as much as you do when you first start it. I wish I could write a novel with only beginnings and get away with it. No plot, no character development, just setting up a world that I might some day want to revisit.

Originally, I went about writing the beginning to my novel after I had written just about everything else. At that point, my novel wasn’t a novel. It was a collection of stories based on this guy I hadn’t grown into yet. I had a loose idea in my idea of smoothing all the stories out to make one coherent story, but everything I had so far was a slew of middles and half an ending.

Then I started thinking about poker. That’s because I was playing a lot of it at the time. I didn’t have much money to lose, but I lost a lot of it during random Tuesday night poker games in Queens. It wasn’t the gambling that was addicting; it was being around a group of friends sitting around a table with a couple of beers and a vague knowledge of how to take each other’s money. I even organized a poker game for my family one weekend that had more color and suspect card playing than a heated game of Go Fish between 3-year-olds.

So I had a bunch of characters I loved and a desperate need to introduce them in a way that was true to them and the story I was trying to tell. And I had a table, some poker chips, and a deck of cards. Putting the two together after weeks of sleepless nightmares and frightening re-writes was like getting the card you needed on the river. The beginning began to suck me in slowly and seductively, and it’s sucked in at least three of the people you’ve read my novel thus far. The idea is out there, you’ve just got to patiently follow the breadcrumbs and not be tempted by subpar openings just to get to your plot.

Some other things to think about when settling on your first lines:

• No idea is a bad idea at first. Get it all out there. You never know which bad idea is going to lead to a better one.
• Don’t be afraid to leave your beginning until the end. Beginnings are where you’re going to make your money, so revisit it often and take time at the end of your process to make sure it reflects your characters and themes.
• A shocking beginning isn’t necessarily a good one. You don’t want to overpromise at the start and then under-deliver in the end.  You’re building a world, don’t light it on fire with your opening lines if you can’t fan the flames or put it out in the middle.

During my high school graduation speech, I said that there really aren’t endings; there are only more beginnings. Endings were really a chance to take a breath before diving into what’s next. That’s what you want your opening to be like for your reader. A huge gulp of air before dipping beneath the surface of your words, only to rise again when your next beginning makes them long for the oxygen of temptation.

Now go write. Always.

For more essays, check out our full archive. 

Remembering Philip Seymour Hoffman

The guys discuss the tragic death of Philip Seymour Hoffman.

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Sean's Take: How I Became Mike Hammered

“How c-could you?” she gasped.

I only had a moment before talking to a corpse, but I got it in.

“It was easy,” I said.

I, the Jury—Mickey Spillane

It was after reading this iconic closing that I became a fan of noir tough guy fiction and mostly a fan of Mickey Spillane. I first picked up I, the Jury, the first of the long running Mike Hammer detective series, in eighth grade. Like a heroin addict, I was hooked on the junk. It was fantastic, it was jaw- dropping, it was as if I had located a hidden door to a secret and magical world where men wore suits and toted .45 automatics with tough dames who could break men with their icy stares. Mike Hammer, the short tempered New York City private detective quickly became my hero and his creator became my idol.

Most teenage boys worship football players, rock stars, or actors, but I worshiped at the altar of Mickey. It was a place where there was no bullshit and the only talk was tough talk. I was, and still am, a gentle person. I am not a tough guy by any means. I could eat pizza and watch PBS all day if allowed, and that is something I have learned to accept. However, I was able to enter and take part of the tough guy world through Spillane's words and leave without getting any scratches.

I, the Jury came out in 1951 and was runaway best seller. It was a risky book for the time—filled with sex, violence, and a seedy underworld. Spillane wrote for money and he never hid that from the public. Spillane once said "I am writer, not an author. A writer makes money."

Spillane pumped I, the Jury out in seven days because he needed cash to help pay for a house. Seven days! One week and the man wrote a book that changed the landscape of the American detective novel. What have you done in seven days? Nothing that changed the world! Stop reading this blog, go do something awesome! Never mind, keep reading. This blog is awesome! Carry on.

Mickey Spillane

What I took away from Spillane was that he wrote for fun. He wrote so he could make a dime and I could enjoy myself. Many blamed Spillane for dumbing down the market with his quick and easy style that was filled with action and sex. What he really did was show the writing world how to be an entertainer. Mickey wasn't some stiff, quiet writer with glasses who spoke softly about the need for character development. No! He was from New York City, he knew how to control a room when he walked in, and he told stories that pulled you in and kept you reading. Spillane was on talk shows across the country making people laugh, he acted in films based off his books, and he even starred in Miller Lite ads. If James Patterson did an ad for Budweiser would you buy it? Maybe. But when a wise cracking New Yorker with a fedora on his head tells you to drink Miller Lite you are going to drink it.

It's been more than 10 years since I first picked up Spillane, but I still go back and read one story once a year. Are the stories dated? Yes. Are there racial slurs? Yes. None of that takes away my love for the stories or for the man who brought them to me.

I'll leave you with one more classic line from Mickey Spillane:

"I have no fans. You know what I got? Customers. And customers are your friends."

For more essays, check out our full archive. 

Sean's Best Moment as a Writer

Sean Tuohy describes the first time he captured a reader's attention with something he wrote and what the goal of all writers should be. He also reveals sad details of his lonely night.

Daniel Ford's Best Moments as a Writer

Daniel Ford recalls his fondest memories as a writer. He also waxes poetic about the Traveling Wilburys' awful 1980s mullets.