Writer's Club

A Newsletter for Members of Writer's Beat August-September, 2007 Issue 14

NEW HORIZONS
In Celebration of Foreign Literature
This issue: A Focus on France

Misused, Misspelled
& Misplaced - Part IV
PLOT: Make it or Break it

Member's Choice
Our members choose their
favorite forum read

Editor's Choice Contest Winners

Poetry selections from the Feauring the best of Member
Writer's Beat Forum Fiction, Non-Fiction and Poetry
for July and August, 2007

Just For Fun

Special Photo Puzzle Feature!

WB Poll: Are You Writer's Beat Comic

DarthWader strikes again
Plot Driven or
Character Driven? The Beat Goes On
Overheard on the forum...

Be a part of our growing community of writers. Join Writer's Beat today!

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Writer's Club A publication
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CONTENTS Writer's Beat

Feature: New Horizons................................. 3

WB POLL:
Plot Driven or Character Driven? ................... 6
Misused, Misspelled & Misplaced
Part IV: Plot - Make it or Break it ..................... 7
Member's Choice: Story ............................... 10
Editor's Choice: Poetry .................................. 13
Contest Winners............................................. 14

FALL 2007
Comic by Darthwader .................................. 19
Just for Fun .................................................... 20
Picture Prompt ............................................... 21

Dear Members:
Fall is here and it's time once again for our latest issue of Writer's Club. We hope you enjoy
this month's edition, which includes the latest Contest Winners as well as polls results and other
feedback from our forum. Our editorial staff has worked hard to bring you more of what you'd like to
see in this publication, and if there's anything else you'd like to have added in, please contact our
magazine's lead editor at hakeemd@writersbeat.com or post a comment for us using the "comments"
link on the Writer's Beat main page at www.writersbeat.com.
Enjoy!
- Writer's Club Editorial Staff
 Writer's Club
New Horizons
A celebration of foreign literature
New Horizons: France
In Which We Become
Francophiles
Hakeem D., Mridula C. and Taya L.
E verybody is unique. While we all differ
individually, we are vastly estranged when it comes
to cultures. Each society, each country has its own
personal flavor. Like it or not, most of us don’t know
much about people beyond our own circle,
whether it is their lifestyle, or even something as
universal as literature and the arts.
It is nothing short of common knowledge that the
literary culture we embrace is a reflection of the
recognized artistic value that has been passed
from generation to generation. In this issue, Writer's
Club takes you to witness how foreign literature
shaped the culture we know today, even in our own
circle.
Our first focus will be on French literature. French
writers have influenced the world in such a way that
French has now become known as the language of
romance, elicited from Vulgar Latin, Celtic and
Frankish.
Literary genres over the last few centuries have
had an effect on modern creative genres
extending over foreign countries, and helping to
expand and refine the English language. French
literature has developed ways of making it possible
to relate to other societies through their literary
developments. The French linguistic process was
punctuated into studying and retaining different
poetry as well as novels and theater works.
Through the ages, French literature has
influenced the world – whether it was through the
birth of the novel or by being the epitome of a
particular style or simply by causing a revolution.
So, as someone famous said, ‘Let’s start at the very
beginning….’
La Chanson de Roland
Imagine being the creator of a new literary form
that would hold a place in the forefront of literature
for centuries.
The author of La Chanson de Roland, or The
Song of Roland, did exactly that, and from Roland
sprang innumerable variations on the epic story.
These wildly popular poems, or chansons de geste
(“songs of heroic deeds” in Old French), captured
and held the imaginations of Europeans from the
11th to 15th centuries and are today recognized as
the earliest hallmark of French literature.
Such an author, you might think, ought to have
a pedestal in the pantheon of literary giants,
alongside the likes of Shakespeare and Homer. Yet
the man, or perhaps woman, who first put Roland in
written form remains anonymous to us. We should
not, of course, give the mystery writer too much
credit; he or she was likely merely one in a long line
of poets who followed the oral tradition and simply
had the bright idea of writing instead of reciting.
The story of Roland, Charlemagne’s great warrior,
3.
was certainly well-known and would have been
The Beat
carried from court to court by jongleurs.
We do not even know precisely when this epic
poem was first written. Several different manuscripts
exist today, the earliest of which is dated around
1140, and it is estimated that the poem in its oral
form was composed about a century earlier. Dating
Goes On...
is especially complicated due to the fact that
What's on and about
additions and alterations were most certainly made on Writer's Beat
to every manuscript version, regardless of the
original date.
The story behind Roland has its basis in an
A question from the
historical battle that took place in 778. No battle for Inkster Incorporated
the history books, the incident that created a
legend and a literary form was a minor moment in
forum:
the much chronicled life of Charlemagne, or "What Authors
Charles the Great, King of the Franks. Retreating
from an earlier battle against invading Basques,
have influenced
Charlemagne’s rearguard was ambushed in the you the most?"
Pyrenees and, according to early historians, killed to
the last man.
The long span of time between the Battle of
" Fante
Roncevaux Pass and the writing of The Song of Fitzgerald
Roland explains how Hruodland, Prefect of Brittany, Bukowski
became Roland, nephew of Charlemagne; how the Kerouac
Basques, indigenous people of Spain, became Steinbeck
dreaded Saracens; and how Charlemagne, who
originally ignored the battle and continued north to Dickinson
deal with troublesome Saxons, became the Ginsberg (Check out
avenging king who deals out swift and deadly his poem America)
retribution. So are legends born. Joseph Campbell"
The poem features the great Roland, true
Christian and valiant knight, along with a gaggle of
-Pen
other Frankish noblemen whose names run together
with those of their horses and swords. In a nutshell
the story goes like this: a treacherous Frank who
"My influences, I think,
also happens to be Roland’s resentful stepfather,
Ganelon, makes a deal with the Muslim leader and
come more from a
guarantees that the twelve great champions of literary period than a
France, Roland included, will be in the vulnerable single author - The Beat
rearguard during the trek through the mountains. Generation. Of course, I
A battle ensues in which Roland and his fellows have also been told that
spend a good deal of time hacking the enemy to
bits despite insurmountable odds against them. my poems and short
(Note to readers: if you would rather not repeatedly stories remind others of
read about men being cloven in two, this story is Emily Dickinson's work as
not for you.) Naturally, Roland and the other
well as Sylvia Plath.
champions perform great feats of valor and when
Roland severely wounds the Muslim leader, the Dickinson I can see
remaining foes flee, leaving Roland and one other because she is one of
champion to bleed to death. my favorite authors, so it
Ironically, Roland has suffered no blow from an would not surprise me in
enemy sword or spear; rather he will die due to the
bursting of his temple, which occurred when he
the least if some of her
blew his great horn to alert Charlemagne to their style came out in my
plight. Charlemagne returns at the head of his army own writing. However, I
and successfully routs the revitalized Muslim force in have never read
a lengthy battle featuring his own triumph against anything of Sylvia
another Muslim leader in single combat.
The Song of Roland set the pattern for future Plath's."
chansons de geste. As a genre, they tell the stories - beatgen_nerd
of the 8th and 9th centuries of French history,
embellishing them with fabulous creatures and
New Horizons continued on page 4
Writer's Beat
 Writer's Club
New Horizons
"I shall live magic. They reflect their own time better than the
age of their subjects, seen by the transformation
of all historical enemies into Muslims and the
badly if I do perpetual plastering of good Christian values over
the characters and events. Characters are
cardboard cutouts: the brave warrior, the traitor,
not write, the beautiful infidel princess who must be
converted, and so on.
In the grand scheme of French literature, the
and I shall popular chansons gave birth to both lyric poetry
and romances, but they are indicative of the birth
of something even more important: a sense of
write badly common French identity.
To understand all the intricacies of the Franks
of the 8th and 9th centuries requires far more
if I do not space and time (not to mention energy!) than this
humble writer can give. Suffice to say that what
we today know as France was then a land divided
live." into many small kingdoms, frequently at war with
each other. That the chansons hearkened back to
this age in which Charlemagne, Charles Martel
and Louis the Pious created a Frankish empire, the
first of its kind, shows that the French from the
11th century onward saw that age as the origin of
- Francoise their identity as a single people with a single
destiny. No more Bretons, no more Saxons, no
more Burgundians, only the French. And they
Sagan celebrated that by way of their chansons.
Forget a new literary form. The writer of The
Song of Roland created a country. Imagine that.
Lancelot, le Chevalier de la Charrette
Romances deserve consideration separate
from their epic siblings the chansons de geste
due to some unique characteristics and their
resulting influence on literature through the ages.
In the 12th century, the chansons seem to
have been the department of professional poets
and performers, while romances were relegated
to amateurs and private readings; the
embarrassing uncle or bastard brother, you might
say.
Even this distinction is difficult to make,
however, as poets like Chrétien de Troyes, by all
accounts professionals replete with patrons,
produced plenty of romances. One such
romance was Chrétien’s Lancelot, the Knight of
the Cart, written from 1177 to 1181.
The story behind Lancelot was hardly new to
the intended audience. However, Chrétien
introduced some new aspects to the legend; his
Lancelot is the first version (that still exists today) to
include Arthur ’s magnificent city of Camelot, and
most importantly, the love affair between
Guinevere and Lancelot that is so well known
today.
In Chr étien’s story, Lancelot rescues Guinevere
from Meleagant, a traitorous ex-knight of the
Round Table. In order to reach Guinevere quickly,
he accepts transportation in a beggar ’s cart, the
shame of which is outweighed by his love for
Guinevere.
Chr étien’s Lancelot is entirely typical of
romances as a genre. Aside from the plot and
character clichés, romances were categorized in
the 12th century as being either “Matter of
France,” “Matter of Britain,” or “Matter of Rome.”
The first dealt with stories from the Carolingian
era, the second with Arthurian legends, and the
Photo by Jillian C. - Lake at Dawn
4.
Continued from pg 3.
third with medieval Europe’s interpret-ations of
both Greek and Roman mythology as well as
historical figures like Alexander and Caesar.
Authors like Chr étien both influenced and
were influenced by a developing chivalric code
that was in truth preached more than practiced.
Through the rosy world view of the romances, we
can see the ideal society that the upper class
imagined existed, despite the persistent violence
and cruelness of reality. The Lake Woebegon
effect: all the women are strong, all the men are
good looking, and all the children are above
average.
Lancelot and other works by Chr étien also
have the distinction of being, arguably, the first
novels ever written. The theory behind this is that
Chrétien’s stories follow a pattern that is now so
well known: they have a beginning, a middle, and
an end, apparently a novel (forgive the pun) idea
in his time. It will be up to you, dear reader, to
decide for yourself if Chrétien de Troyes is the
father of the novel.
With a basis in respected writings such as
Lancelot, perhaps the modern romances found
on gas-station shelves are not so deserving of the
trashy status their covers, complete with shiny
pectorals and flimsy clothing, so successfully
attract. Then again, maybe they are. Redemption
is difficult, they say.
Candide, ou l'Optimisme
With the waning of the French monarchy and
public unrest growing, the views of the people
began to be reflected in the literature of the time.
In the latter half of the 18th century, a novella
written by a famous writer made waves in the
general public for its casual satire of several
accepted philosophies and institutions. The
name? Candide ou l’Optimisme, by Voltaire,
better known as Candide, or Optimism in English.
Published in 1759, Candide narrates the story
of Candide, who through a series of
misadventures, comes to realise that the
Leibnizian optimism he has been taught to
believe in was nothing more than a farce.
Through this book, Voltaire mocks everything from
religion to war to philosophy and while he is at it,
rips at nobility. One of his most famous works, it is
playful, witty and above all, sarcastic. It is most
renowned for methodically listing the world’s faults
– a tongue-in-cheek attack on the ‘perfect world ’
philosophy of Gottfried Leibniz, a German
philosopher of the previous century.
Candide is said to be one of the most
noteworthy pieces of Western literature mainly
due to its sharp wit and in-depth depiction of
human nature. Often noted in lists of the world’s
most influential books, it continues to be a
popular favourite across the world.
Madame Bovary
At the turn of the next century, if Gustave
Flaubert had not been dared to write a serious
novel, this ardent Romantic might never have had
to face trial for indecency. That was precisely
what he did soon after Madame Bovary was re-
New Horizons continued on page 5
Writer's Beat
Writer's Club
The Beat
Goes On...
What's on and about
in Writer's Beat
An interesting conversation
seen in the Writer's Beat
forum Inkster Incorporated,
"Writers Are Different
Than Normal People"
"...Nietzsche went so far
as to describe creative
people as "decadents"
(including himself.) To
him, artistic creation
was compensation for
a fundamental lack of
vigor. It revealed the
life force in a state of
descension -- the
slumber of healthy
instincts -- even if it did
result in beautiful works
of art."
- Starrwriter
"...I am in no such
danger.
I am so introverted,
strange and socially
incompetent I would
be stunned by an
invitation to join
normally people.."
- Aspire2B1
"...I always felt pulled
away from the crowd.
My friends wanted to
hang out 24/7 and
most of the time I
wanted to be home,
away from their
annoying attitudes and
gossip and just curled
up with a good book
(my only source of
intellectual dialogue). I
know now that I will
never truly be a
"normal" person but
that's okay. Sadly as it
sounds, the only place I
feel normal is in the
arms of literature.
- Writebunny
New Horizons Continued from pg 4.
-leased. It is perhaps ironic that an author who
wrote books that were idealistic and had
optimistic tones also penned the work that would
go down into history as the best example of
Realist literature – stark, unforgiving and truthful.
Madame Bovary, the story of the protagonist
by the same name follows her adulterous
escapades in the search of ‘love’. Unhappily
married, she seeks comfort in various lovers
before finally meeting her fate. With a meticulous
choice of words, Flaubert delicately portrays his
character ’s dreams and disappointments.
Vastly criticized at the time for offending
public morals and encouraging indecent affairs, it
survived the test of time. This book not only
signaled the birth of feminism, but also heralded
the dawn of modern criticism. Paul de Man’s
declaration that "contemporary criticism of fiction
owes more to this novel than to any other
nineteenth-century work" rings true even today, as
since its publication, Madame Bovary has been
one of the most frequently discussed books of
world literature.
Les Misérables
In 1862, Victor Hugo published his
masterpiece, Les Misérables. The melodramatic
novel pleaded for social change and
contemplated the political degeneracy and the
criminal injustice that was rather prevalent in
France at the time. Les Misérables, which was
attacked by critics when it was initially published,
follows the story of Jean Valjean as he struggles
through an aristocratic, class-based society,
accompanied by many characters that affect the
events of the novel. While the story is generally
fictional, it largely mirrors Hugo's life experiences
and the reality of nineteenth-century France.
Les Mis érables was one of the many literary
works that drove a fundamental change in the
French society, which veered from long-standing
customs and traditions toward rational beliefs and
social moderation. It suggests balanced
philosophical doctrines, that all individuals have a
certain responsibility toward their society, which in
turn will not be disturbed by strife or turmoil or war
when this responsibility is recognized. Hugo
presented a symbol of change, a symbol of deep
compassion, and most importantly, a symbol of
freedom that the world still embraces to this very
day.
A la Recherche du Temps Perdu
Considered the definitive modern novel by
several critics, A la Recherche du Temps Perdu (In
Search of Lost Time) by Marcel Proust is certainly
one of the most famous of its kind. A seven-part
semi-autobiographical novel, it follows the story of
M., the narrator. It is written in a popular literary
style called Stream of Consciousness – a literary
technique where the author depicts a character ’s
point of view by giving their thought processes in
words. The role of memory is pivotal through the
series. Proust’s theories about involuntary
memories have been compared to Freud’s own
speculations. Other major themes include
homosexuality, music and art.
When the books were released between 1913
5.
1913 and 1927, they were all received with
praise. Several authors following Proust adopted
his style very effectively – most notably, Virginia
Woolf. In subsequent years, it has been adapted
into several versions on print, screen and stage.
L'Étranger
In 1942, the world was introduced to
L'Étranger. No matter how the title was translated,
Albert Camus wrote a simple novel that shortly
became the world's chef-d'oeuvre in existential,
absurdest novels. The Stranger confronts the
distracted political situation in Europe after the
Second World War as well as social conditions
that greatly exceeded bounds of reason and
moderation. Through the standpoint of Meursault,
The Stranger's protagonist, Camus demonstrated
a lifestyle innocent of religious concepts and
beliefs, and that any attempt to find truths
beyond the physical realm will only go in vain.
Even though the novel mainly revolves around
Absurdism, it includes numerous hints of varying
topics such as colonialism and racial tension in
Algeria. It also points to the freedom of the press
in France under Nazi occupation—a topic that
reflects Camus's own struggles in the world of
journalism, especially after the creation of
Combat: A newspaper devoted to the French
resistance at the time.
The language of the novel is a firm indication
of Camus's literary accuracy, and also an
element that rendered the translated versions
short in the passionate associations that exist in
the original, French version. It also leaves no room
for much description—a style Camus adopted to
keep the reader focused on the characters'
reactions throughout the narrative sequence. The
language, the structure, and the narrative added
a psychological depth to the story, confirming
Albert Camus as a master of French literature.
From knightly escapades to stories ablaze with
passion and lust, French writers covered the world
with a drape of literary splendor. Tales from this
brilliant literature left a remarkable influence on
the course of history; they were a legacy in
themselves, and they remain so today. Facets of
French civilization are evident in every page of
literature; they reflect years of grandeur and
tyrannous dominance, and witness astonishing
social changes that people still remember.
The French literary canon is arguably the most
well-known on a universal scale; it resides in every
corner of this world telling people tales of
magnificence. We are running out
of words and now it's your turn to
read and tell.
From all of us at Writer's Beat,
ayez un bon lu.
How can one not dream while
writing? It is the pen which
dreams. The blank page
gives the right to
dream.
- Gaston Bachelard
Writer's Beat
Writer's Club
MICHELLE BACIOCCO WRITES
Are you plot driven or
character driven?
That is the question. In a recent poll
at Writers Beat, thirty voters chose
between four choices;
A. Plot Driven
B. Character driven
C. Both
D. Neither
So which do you do?
Member JC Paloma says “My
stories are always tailored for a
character I created.” Not just
everyone chose character though.
The results vary.
“I think it depends entirely on
the type of story you are writing.
Some are plot-driven (mysteries,
twist endings, etc.) while others lend
themselves to portraits of fascinating
characters. I have written both kinds
and I have no favorite,” says
member Starrwriter.
Other members such as
StarPanda said, “Nine times out of
ten it is the plot, or the potential for
a plot that drives me to put pen to
paper.”
RonoxQ on the other hand
says that his stories are neither. “I do
neither. My best pieces (AM, which
was on here before) were ones that
I just wrote one day, without any
forethought. The characters drive
the plot, the plot makes the
characters, but my stories really
aren't about either one: they're about
themselves.”
A few members, however
came up with some very interesting
points on the question. Cuchulian
said, “What's one without the
other?”
That is a very good point.
What is one without the other? Can
you even have a story without a plot
or characters? Characters and plot
work with each other to make each
story great.
Stephen Wegmann agrees.
“You cannot have a good plot
without characters. You cannot have
a good character if he has no plot.
So there.”
So there you have it folks.
What are you? Next time you sit
down to write your next big novel or
even if itís just your newest short
story, remember this question: Are
you plot driven or character driven?
Maybe that question will make you
think of a better or more interesting
story line. You never know.
6
In Memory
Madeleine L'Engle, 88,
passed away during the first
week of September, 2007.
The author of over 50 written
works that included non-
fiction titles as well as fiction
for both adults and children is
best known for her novel,
A Wrinkle in Time, which was
published in 1962.
Most of us may remember
this book from our own
childhood. The story featured
three children who used ESP
and the bending of space/time
to travel to another planet in
search of their missing father.
Unpublished writers might
be interested to know that
L'Engle tried to sell "Wrinkle"
many times before she finally
found a publisher willing to
take a risk on the manuscript.
Like Rowling's Harry Potter,
the risk paid off.
"Wrinkle" went on to
become an instant best-seller
and won the Newberry Medal
for Best Children's Fiction. It
can still be found in print and
has been translated into over
a dozen different languages all
over the world. L'Engle
showed us that it always pays
to persevere if one truly
desires publication.
Madeleine L'Engle
Writer's Beat
 Writer's Club
Misused, Misspelled & Misplaced
Taya L., Hakeem D., Jillian C.
1. plot
Pronunciation:
That’s what the pronunciation looks like?
Weird.
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Old English
So far so good.
1 a : a small area of planted ground
<a vegetable plot> b : a small piece of land in
a cemetery
c : a measured piece of land : LOT
Not quite what I was looking for.
2: GROUND PLAN, PLAT
Unhelpful.
3: [perhaps back-formation from complot] : a
secret plan for accomplishing a usually evil
or unlawful end :
INTRIGUE
Hmm.
4: a graphic representation (as a chart)
I hate charts.
5: the plan or main story (as of a movie or
literary work)
That’s it?! That’s all they’re going to give me?
What a piece of junk. How am I ever
supposed to write my five-book series without
having a proper definition of plot?
Well, for starters, don’t begin that way.
Knowing you’re going to write five books or a
trilogy before you have a plot is usually not a
good idea.
But that’s getting ahead of ourselves. If
you’re struggling with plot, you’re not alone. Plot
is that ever-present thorn in our sides, cramp in
our hands, knot in our brains.
Plot is hard.
Can Dear Abby save your foundering, half-
baked plot? No. Can we? Possibly. No guarantees.
But we’d like to help.
Read on for advice and guidance. We even
list a hotline number at the conclusion should
you need further aid.
Plot problems can arise from the first
page you write, so beware: You must
not wait for the final product to go back
and remedy your horrifying plot
deficiencies. One of the mistakes that
many writers, even the experienced one,
make at the introduction of their stories
is the dreaded Info Dump. You start off
by throwing whatever happened before
the story opening in the first few pages
whether it is relevant or not. Even if
what you are telling the reader is very
important, you must not put it all at
once. Info Dumps ruin the structural
framework of your narration. They
leave no room for mystery or
anticipation, and often cause the reader
to lose interest in the story. What is
more, placing too much information at
the beginning of an action-filled chapter
will steal the thunder, resulting in the
focus of your reader gradually shifting
from what is happening now to what
happened before, specifically to the
memories swirling inside the character's
head.
Dealing with Info Dumps is rather
easy. You need to mention what is only
relevant to the scene you are writing. If,
for instance, Mary Jane is investigating
the crime that took place in her kitchen,
you do not have to make her remember
how the color of her stuffed bear
affected her past relationships. And if
you feel the need to insert a little
backstory at some point, make it as
simple as possible. Remember, the
backstory does not always take place in
the character's mind; it can also be
portrayed through actions and dialog.
Whether it is a certain goal to
achieve, a problem to solve, or a quest
to finish, you always need something to
drive your plot, and this something
should always be the starter of your
story. Readers do not like to fight
through needless prose and you do not
need to write one.
Misused - PLOT continued on page 8
7.
Writer's Beat Tip:
Do away with
those tired old
Cliches
Have you ever looked back
on something you've written and it
just didn't feel fresh? More than
likely the problem may lie in
descriptive narrative that contains
way too many cliches. Editors and
publishers hate them and in a lot
of cases, having even a few of
these little buggers appearing in
your story can cause your
manuscript to be rejected.
Sometimes they can be hard
to find. Euphemisms in everyday
language are often so overused
that we simply don't notice them.
A few classics are:
- Her eyes flashed with anger
- He had a backup plan, a
secret ace in the hole
- She gave him a piece of
her mind
- His advertising proposal
sank like the Titanic
Other cliches can appear in
'situational' form. For instance,
showing a character waking in the
morning at the beginning of a
chapter, or having a character
look into a mirror for purposes of
description are extremely
overused. If you have one of
these, eliminate them.
For something different, why
not try inventing your own new &
unique phrases, take an old cliche
& twist it, and place your
characters in odd or unusual
settings. Above all, try to avoid
sports & computer metaphors.
Writer's Beat
Writer's Club
Misused, Misspelled & Misplaced
Continued from page 7
You should always start your story with the
primary, evident conflict. If Mary Jane just
entered her house, let her enter the kitchen
and see the corpse lying on the ground, not
take a tour of the whole household, rearrange
her closet and make a grocery list. Starting
with the primary conflict of your story lets
the readers ask their questions from the
beginning. And like we mentioned earlier,
keeps them attentive and also protects your
book from being tossed away.
No w we reach the 'rising action'
section. This is the section that stands in the
middle, connects both ends of your novel,
and sets the major and the minor themes of
the story. You should aim to develop plenty
of elements in this section—taking in
consideration it is the longest one—and put
down all the ideas you have in your head.
This covers obstacles, inner and outer
conflicts, sub-plots, character relationships,
and anything else that falls in the middle. You
should also note that this section shows your
protagonist's qualities, which permits or
facilitates his/her achievements or
accomplishments throughout the storyline.
You do not want Mary Jane to battle a
murderer with her make-up kit, do you?
Everything that takes place in the
middle is responsible for making your plot an
emotionally effective, thoroughly developed,
and a well paced one; therefore, you should
focus really well on this section. No, really
well.
After the middle section, or the rising
action, comes the climax of your story. If you
create a climax that is easily solved, you will
fail as a writer. If you create a climax that
even we cannot solve, you will fail as a
writer. If you let Mary Jane simply shoot the
murderer and then resume her shower, then
you will surely fail as a writer. The climax
contributes highly to the probability and
credibility of your plot; therefore, it should
be handled with extreme importance. If your
climax can be predicted by a sticky-fingered
toddler, any success you may have had in
your middle section will come crashing
down. Easy climaxes, which are usually
rushed climaxes, will make the reader feel
greatly disappointed and you will therefore
be stamped as a bad writer. Bad writer!
There is a specific characteristic that is
common among easy climaxes: the
coincidence factor. Let us say that Mary Jane
is cornered by her landlord, the murderer,
and he is about to kill her. There is absolutely
no way for poor Mary to escape this
terrorizing situation. But suddenly, a gun
magically appears on the top of the dresser.
Now come on! Isn't that really
annoying? If you want to avoid this, exploit
past occurrences of your story and
use plot devices that may aid you in sticky
spots.
The climax contributes
highly to the probability
and credibility of your plot;
therefore, it should be
handled with extreme
importance.
Yet again, there are hard, complex
climaxes. What are those exactly? Let us say
that Mary Jane is trapped alone in her house
with the telephone cables cut off, the win-
dows sealed, and the family dead. Her hands
are numb and her legs are broken. Her
husband built sound-proof walls, making her
screams useless. The murderer and his other
friends are circulating the house making sure
that no one gets in. All of her neighbors are
coincidentally out of their houses... Now, it
appears that Mary Jane should start praying.
Complex climaxes are uncalled for and you
will only notice their implausibility after you
have written them through. However, a good
writer is one who can logically solve such
complex climaxes. Now, how can Mary Jane
survive?
We finally reach the last section —the
resolution of the climax, and eventually, the
ending of the book. Needless to say, the
resolution should be conclusive, tying all
loose ends and the ending must, quite
8.
obviously, end all the storylines and the sub-
plots of your story. Readers would be hugely
frustrated if the book ended without knowing
who washed the dishes on the night of the
murder. The ending should demonstrate the
change the world of your story underwent
and the state of your characters after they
went through the climax and the resolution.
You should neither crawl towards the ending,
which would lead to accusations of page
count boosting (scandalous!), nor should
you sprint towards it, which would suggest
your own boredom with the story (a ringing
endorsement, to be sure).You should
gradually fall to the resolution, and write the
ending with the same pace of any previous
part.
It would be quite stupid, actually, to end
the book a couple of hundred pages after
Mary Jane discovers the murderer and settles
down in her own house. Unless you think a
detailed description of Mary Jane's shoe
collection and a thorough recounting of her
cat's gastrointestinal tendencies will sell.
Your choice.
Now that you know what plot is and how
it is structured, how do you begin forming
one? As stated earlier, plot is hard.
What plot requires first and foremost an
idea - one large enough to expand upon into a
short story or novel. But how do you know
what ideas will work and which ones won't?
How do you find the right 'fit' for your story?
Let's take a look at how ideas can evolve
into a story.
A story idea can come from virtually
anywhere: dreams, TV, artwork, the nightly
news, an event from our own childhood or
recent past, and even those ideas that
seemingly "pop in" out of nowhere. An idea
is the seed that germinates into Plot. But,
once you have an idea you like, how do you
get your plot to grow? You'll need fertilizer,
otherwise known as Conflict. Conflict can be
defined in several basic forms: Man Vs. Man,
Man Vs. God, Man Vs. Nature, Man Vs.
Society, Man Vs. Himself, and so on. All
possible plots can be broken down into these
few simple building blocks.
Misused - PLOT continued on page 9
Writer's Beat
 Writer's Club
Misused, Misspelled & Misplaced
Continued from page 8
Remember this word, kiddies: Conflict. It is the heart of all
possible plots and without it, your story is dead.
There are probably hundreds of texts written on the subject of
Plot Development, and we obviously don't have the space to get
into the finer points here, but we can offer you a few basic tips to
get started.
For one, you will need to find an idea you like (that interests
you) and one that will work for the kind of story you intend to
write. If you want a plot that will work with a short story, you need
to keep your focus narrow. In other words, choose a single event,
or a very short chain of events that are interconnected and can be
described in a relatively few amount of words.
Most short stories usually center around a single character,
showing a 'slice' of their life, so to speak. An idea that centers
around one single event is most likely the best for a short story.
If you're writing a novel, choose an idea that might be more
general and larger in scope, which will be a longer series of events
happening to several characters. These characters include a
Protagonist (hero), the Antagonist (villain or anti-hero) and all the
people that both of them will interract with during the course of
the story (secondary and tertiary characters).
Plot, simply put, is the 'journey' your MC takes in
order to achieve his/her goals.
For two, when sorting through your ideas, ask yourself this
very important question: Is this plot idea something that readers
will identify with and care about? Ruling out obscure topics that
only a select few people might understand will help you find
something that will appeal to your readers. Plus, choose somethng
you can stick with for a while. Backgound research provides the
important details it will need for a feeling of realism for the reader,
this thing all the writer's manuals refer to as the 'Suspension of
Disbelief." So be sure you pick a topic you actually like.
For a novel, take your idea and work it out as follows:
1. Who is your Main Character? (MC) (Description)
2. Who works against your MC? (Antagonist-description)
3. What does your MC want? (Describe your hero's goal)
4. Why does your Antagonist want to prevent the hero
from attaining his/her goal?
5. Choose a theme for your story: Your story is about ____.
(Forgiveness, Hatred, Jealousy, Unrequited Love, etc.).
5. List a series of events that may prevent your MC from
attaining his/her goals.
6. List a series of events that thwarts your villain or negative
circumstance. (how your. hero gets past his/her obstacles).
7. How do the people in their lives (secondary characters)
help them or hinder them?
8. Write a quick description of how your MC will reach
his/her goal and how the villain doesn't achieve his/hers.
[This last one is your story's'climax.']
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9.
If you've answered all of these questions, you shoul d have what
is called a rough outline of your story. An outline is literally the road
map for your plot. Beginning writers, fear not the Outline, for it is
there to help guide you through your story. Forget whatever you've
heard about writing a novel without some kind of outline. Only well-
experienced writers are able to craft a story successfully without one.
Most first-time novelists aren't able to do this. Why? Because an
experienced writer has had years of practice and can envision entire
scenes in their mind. In short, they know where the plot is going
before they've even typed the first word. Until you're able to do this,
it might be a good idea to start with an outline.
Once you get your plot's road map down on paper, you can
then use it take a good look at the series of events in your story and
determine if your idea builds a plot that is strong enough to carry an
entire novel. Short stories are more free-form, so you can shoot from
the hip, if you like.
In Review:
1. A plot is the plan or main story of a movie or literary work. It
is the course of events your characters experience while
pursuing their goals, and it is how they resolve Conflict.
2. Plot is broken down into four parts: Introduction of Conflict,
Rising Action, Climax and Denouement (falling action). *Note
that when starting out with your description of the Introduction
of Conflict, be sure to avoid the dreaded Infodump! Introduce
your reader to your Main Character (e.g., the aforementioned Mary
Jane), give her something to 'want,' as well as a set of problems to
contend with, show us how she gets there and how she did it.
Then, show us how it all works out for her in the end.
3. A plot for a short story centers around one or two characters and
a single life-changing event. It is always very narrow in scope.
4. A plot for a novel centers around more than 1 or 2 characters and
a longer series of events that eventually end with one huge, life-
changing event. Novels are always broad in scope and can follow
the lives of several characters.
5. Before writing that novel, try an Outline first. It helps you get to
know your characters, what the Conflict is that keeps your story
moving and how it is all resolved by the end.
We've given you a place to start. Now it's all up to you.
I hear and I forget; I see
and I remember; I write and
I understand.
- Chinese Proverb
Writer's Beat
 Writer's Club
Member's
Choice
Our members have voted and we're
please to announce the first-ever
quarterly Member's Choice winner
Early this month, the Members' Choice competition concluded and a
piece written by the highly talented Starrwriter gathered the highest
number of votes. But first, what is the Members' Choice competition?
During the course of twenty days, members of the Write r's Beat
community get to nominate any piece they think is exceptional and worth
publishing in the e-zine. After the nomination period is over, a staff
member will post the top five most nominated pieces, whether prose of
poetry, and then members get to vote on only one piece. The piece with
the highest number of votes will be declared the Members' Choice.
If you're a member of the Writer's Beat community, we will send you a
notification when we announce the next Member's Choice competition.
Make sure you read and nominate, and most importantly, vote. Keep your
eyes open and expect an announcement soon.
The Wizard of Dreams
Starrwriter
I t was such a small leap of faith to foresee the ultimate consequences.
Dr. Walter Dunmeyer couldn't understand why he had failed to grasp the
conn-ection between dreaming and the character of the dreamer until it was
too late. Character was fate in dreams as well as in life.
Dunmeyer placed the .32 caliber revolver on his
desk and walked slowly to the reclining chair where
Jack Randolph lay. Randolph's eyes were frozen in
an unblinking stare and his mouth was twisted into a
crooked smile. A trickle of blood ran down his cheek
from a small hole in his forehead.
The office door swung open and Dunmeyer's
assistant ushed in and then stopped in his tracks.
"My God, what happened?"
"Call the police, Mel."
"Is he dead?"
"I hope so."
Dunmeyer went down the hall and entered the
lab. He sat down at the first computer and began
deleting files. While he was doing this, his mind wand-
ered back to the first days of his dream research.
The other staff members nicknamed Dr.
Dunmeyer the wizard of dreams. A specialist in
neuro-physiology, he had done extensive research
into the chemical changes that occurred in the brain
during sleep and dreaming. The key substances were
androsamine and tryptophan and Dunmeyer began
synthesizing variations of the two chemical com-
pounds to alter sleep patterns in volunteer subjects.
His initial goal was to find a cure for insomnia. Sleeping pills were
addictive and often didn't provide vital dream sleep characterized by rapid
eye movement (REM). People who didn't get enough REM sleep were irritable,
tired and unable to function at maximum efficiency. Totally deprived of REM
sleep for a long period, they often hallucinated and exhibited other psychotic
symptoms. Dunmeyer came to the startling conclusion that the bizarre
fantasies involved in dreaming were necessary to remain in touch with reality.
His first mistake was ontological: confusing cause f or effect.
Dunmey er then turned to studies of sleep patterns among different age
groups. Young infants slept an average of 16 hours per day and half of that is
REM sleep. That meant infants spent one-third of their total time dreaming. By
middle age the adult spends only 6-7% of his total time in dream sleep.
Elderly people dream a mere 2% of their total time.Dunmeyer wondered if
Artwork by Jillian C.
10.
there was a correlation between dream time and health problems associated
with aging. What if an adult could spend 8 hours each night in REM sleep like
an infant? Would this slow the effects of aging and improve overall health? He
had read studies that showed the immune system repairs itself and grows
stronger during sleep and that people deprived of REM sleep were more prone
to infections. Extended dreaming might prove to be a panacea for all sorts of
ills.
AT-11 turned out to be Dunmey er's breakthrough drug. It was the eleventh
derivative of an androsamine-tryptophan compound that he had synthesized.
The first volunteer patient he gave it to was Jack Randolph, a 44-year-old truck
driver who suffered from insomnia, high blood pressure and kidney dysfunction.
Randolph was cooperative and Dunmeyer liked him at first in spite of their
different personalities.
Randolph was boisterous and extroverted, a large man who liked to be
the center of attention. He was divorced and had a slight southern drawl
originating from his childhood in Florida. Dunmeyer soon had him sleeping 8
hours at night, something Randolph had been unable to do for years. By
increasing the dosage of AT-11 Dunmeyer gradually boosted the amount of
REM sleep from 2 hours to 8 hours per night.
The results were remarkable. Within a few months Randolph's blood
pressure returned to normal levels. He lost much of the excess weight he had
been carrying since he was a teenager. His kidney function improved. He
looked younger and felt more energetic.
"Your medicine beats the hell out of bennies," he tol d Dunmeyer one day.
"You mean amphetamines?"
"I used to eat them like candy when I was a cross-cou ntry trucker. After
awhile, coffee won't keep you awake on the long hauls. You gotta take
something to keep from nodding off at the wheel."
"You didn't mention this on your application form."
"I guess I lied," Randolph grinned. "I didn't want yo u to think I was a drug
addict."
"Were you addicted?"
"Nah!"
"You know that amphetamine abuse causes insomnia."
"You're telling me! Sometimes I couldn't sleep for da ys."
"I don't want you taking amphetamines while you're pa rt of this research,"
Dunmeyer said sternly.
"Anything you say, doc. "
"It would disrupt your sleep patterns."
Randolph saluted. "Mess age received."
Dunmeyer often question ed him about his dreams,
but Randolph claimed he couldn't remember them.
While this response was common among a small
percentage of dreamers, Dunmeyer suspected that
Randolph was not telling the truth and perhaps even
hiding something. This disturbed Dunmeyer because he
couldn't imagine any reasonable motive for lying. Dream
content was relatively unimportant to his research and he
assured all of his patients that he wasn't interested in
dreams that were embarrassing.
A few weeks later Randolph confirmed his
suspicions.
"I'm a lot smarter tha n I used to be, doc."
"What do you mean?"
"I can do some strange things since I started taking
your medicine."
"Like what?"
"I can make something happen by dreaming about it."
Dunmeyer had been prepared for AT-11 to have
minor side effects like most drugs, but he was alarmed
that it evidently caused delusional thinking.
"You have learned to control what you dream?"
"A bit," Randolph hedged. "Sometimes I realize I'm dr eaming and after
that I can sort of direct the dream like it was a movie."
"What have you made happen by dreaming?"
"Just little things so far. A few nights ago I f orced myself to dream I had a
freezer full of porterhouse steaks. When I woke up, I'll be damned if they weren't
there. It scared me until I ate one of them. I love porterhouse steak, but I can't
afford to buy it very often. Now I got about thirty pounds of it in my freezer."
"I see."
"I knew you wouldn't believe me. Even if I showed you the steaks, you'd just
think I bought them."
"I suppose I would have to, wouldn't I?."
"I'm not crazy, doc. It really happened like I told you. I think your medicine is
Member's Choice continued on page 11
Writer's Beat
 Writer's Club
Member's Choice
Wizard of Dreams
Continued from pg. 10
a lot stronger than you know."
"That may be so, but dreams can't change
reality."
"Tell you what," Randolph smiled. "Tonight I'll
make myself dream something you pick and
tomorrow we'll see if it happened. Think of it as an
experiment."
Dunmeyer decided it would be the best way
to show Randolph he was delusional. "All right, let's
see. I wanted to go to Harvard medical school,
but I couldn't afford the tuition, so I settled for the
University of Ohio. Try to dream that I'm a Harvard
graduate."
"Write it down," Randolph said.
"Why?"
"I'll remember where you really went to
college, but I'm not sure you will."
"I don't understand. Exactly what do you want
me to write down?"
"Get a pen and piece of paper," Randolph
said and began dictating: "I went to the University
of Ohio. Jack Randolph dreamed that I went to
Harvard." He watched Dunmeyer write and then
said: "Now sign it and put it in your wallet."
"Why in my wallet?"
"For safe keeping."
After Randolph left, Dunmeyer took the paper
out of his wallet and stared at it for a long time. It
struck him as malpractice for a doctor to
cooperate with a patient in a psychotic delusion.
He resisted a temptation to toss the paper into the
trash can and forget about the so-called
experiment. Driving home in the afternoon, he
decided he would immediately stop Randolph's
daily doses of AT-11 and refer him to a psychiatrist
for treatment. It would cast a cloud over the drug
he had worked so hard to develop, perhaps even
end his research project, but it was the right thing
to do.
"Where did I go to college, Helen?"
It was the following night and Dunmeyer was
in the living room with his wife, nervously sipping a
Scotch and soda.
"What a silly question," his wife said. "Harvard."
"The strangest thing happened today. One of
my patients insisted I went to the University of Ohio.
He told me to look in my wallet and I found this."
Helen read the writing on the piece of paper.
"I don't understand. What does it mean?"
"That's my signature, but I don't remember
writing it. The patient said we had some sort of
experiment or bet going. He claims he changed
where I actually went to college by dreaming that
I was a Harvard graduate."
must be mentally ill."
"But you are a Harvard graduate."
"You're missing the point."
"You can't possibly believe him. "
"I realize it sounds insane, but there was
something --"
"It is insane," she interrupted. "Your patient
must be mentally ill."
"Then how do you explain this paper? It's my
handwriting and signature."
Ohio?"
"Do you believe you went to the University of
"No, of course not. I remember Harvard very
clearly."
"You've been working too hard, Walt. And not
getting enough sleep. Let's spend a week at the
cabin."
Dunmeyer smiled at her. "Since when do you
like roughing it?"
She kissed him quickly on the cheek. "I don't
mind cooking the fish if you clean them. The fresh
air will be good for both of us."
"Maybe you're right. I have to take care of a
few things tomorrow at the lab."
"Then we'll leave first thing Thursday morning."
His wife beamed.
"It's a date," Dunmeyer said, gripping her hand
tightly.
Randolph was waiting in the parking lot when
Dunmeyer arrived at the clinic the next morning.
"How do you like it?" he asked, po inting to a
dark blue Mercedes Benz.
"Nice car," the doctor admitted.
Randolph shook his head. "You really don't
remember, do you?"
"Remember what?"
"I drove a Chevy yesterday."
Dunmeyer looked confused. "Not that I recall.
You've had this Mercedes ever since you started
treatment at the clinic."
"Wrong, doc. I had an old Chevy until I
dreamed the Mercedes last night."
"We need to talk about this delusion of yours."
Randolph laughed. "It's no delusion any more
than the paper you found in your wallet."
"That was some sort of trick."
"You think I hypnotized you into writing it? Your
medicine made me smarter, but I ain't that smart."
"Listen to me, Jack. No one can change reality
by dreaming. It's simply not possible."
Randolph clucked his tongue. "If you're so sure,
then tell me something. Why would a man who can
afford a new Mercedes come to a free clinic as a
guinea pig? If I had that kind of money a few
months ago, I'd have gone to the most expensive
doctor in town."
"I think it would be best to discontinue your AT-
11 treatments," Dunmeyer said. "You need to have
some tests done."
"I'm afraid I can't allow that."
"Are you threatening me?"
"I'm just telling you how it's gonna be. I have a
lot bigger plans in mind."
"I won't give you any more AT-11."
"We'll see."
Randolph got into the Mercedes and started
the engine, lowering the power window on the
driver's side. "Have a nice time in the country."
"How did you know I'm going to the country?"
"You didn't have a cabin until I dreamed it. You
see, doc, I'm not being totally selfish with this power
you gave me. I'm helping you, too. You stick with
me and we'll both wind up on easy street."
Before Dunmeyer could reply, he backed out
of the parking space and drove away. The doctor
went to his office and told his secretary not to put
through any telephone calls. He wanted time alone
to think about what Randolph had said.
It was all too absurd to take seriously, and yet .
. . Why would a well-to-do man go to a free clinic?
And how did he know about the cabin? And where
had that ridiculous piece of paper in his wallet
come from?
11.
Against his better judgment, Dunmeyer decided to
write everything down in a notebook and lock it in
his office safe. He felt foolish doing it, as if he were
participating in a psychotic delusion, but the
shadow of a doubt had been raised in his mind and
he wanted a permanent written record as a
reference.
Instead of tying up loose ends in the lab,
Dunmeyer went to the public library to borrow a
book he had been meaning to read for some time.
It was titled "The Many-Worlds Interpretation of
Quantum Mechanics."
Dunmeyer and his wife sat on the steps of the
cabin porch, looking out over a small lake ringed
with lily pads.
"Do you remember when we bought this
cabin?" he asked.
"I tried to talk you out of it, but now I'm glad you
didn't listen to me. It's so peaceful here."
"How long have we owned this place?"
"A little over two years. Don't you remember?"
"Yes, I remember. That's the problem."
Helen frowned. "What in the world is bothering
you? You haven't even tried to fish since we arrived.
All you've done is read that damned book and
mope around looking lost. I thought we came here
to relax and enjoy ourselves."
"If you want to know the truth, I don't think we
had this cabin until a few days ago."
"What?"
"I think Jack Randolph gave it to us by
dreaming."
"My God, Walt. Do you realize you're talking like
a crazy person?"
"The book explains what has happened."
Helen stood up. "I read some of the book last
night when you were asleep. It doesn't explain
anything. It's just a wild theory that borders on
fantasy."
"A theory that some respectable physicists are
convinced is true."
"And most others think is total nonsense! I can't
believe you would let a ridiculous piece of
conjecture affect your thinking. You're supposed to
be an objective scientist."
"Randolph thinks he changes reality by
dreaming, but that is not exactly the case."
"I'm not going to listen," his wife said and
started to walk away.
Dunmeyer grabbed her leg. "Please, Helen. I
need to tell someone so I can fill in the blank spots
in my mind."
"I don't want to encourage --"
"Please."
She looked at him as if he were a frightened
child, then sat down and stared at the lake
morosely.
"Every time a person makes a choice," her
husband began, "reality branches into two parallel
universes. In one universe Choice A leads down a
certain path. In the other universe Choice B creates
a different path. The person who made the choice
exists in both universes without being aware of it, but
the reality he encounters is slightly different in each
universe."
"I understand the theory, Walt. I just don't
believe it."
"Randolph is wrong to think he dreams things
into existence in a single universe. His dreams
actually thrust him and those he dreams about into
a parallel universe where his choice is a reality."
"You really think we are in a different universe
now than we were a few days ago -- but have no
Continued on pg. 12
Writer's Beat
 Writer's Club
Member's Choice
Wizard of Dreams
Continued from pg. 11
memory of the other universe?"
"I think it's entirely plausible. And if it's true, J ack
Randolph is a very dangerous man."
"Why?"
"Don't you understand? If Randolph can dream
himself and other people into a parallel universe and
remember the transformation, he is in a god-like
position to shape the reality of that universe any way
he chooses. The rest of us can't remember and that
puts us at his mercy."
"I never met the man," Helen remarked.
"You wouldn't like him. He's the pushy type."
"You believe AT-11 gave him this magical power
by letting him sleep 8 hours a night in REM sleep?"
"I suppose it did somehow."
"Then why don't infants dream themselves and
their mothers into a parallel universe? They have 8
hours of REM sleep every day."
"I don't know all the answers yet," Dunmeyer
said. "Infants have very undeveloped brains. Their
neuron circuits are primitive compared to adults. But
who knows? Maybe they do drift between universes
until they get older."
Helen touched his cheek. "Darling, you must be
aware of how far-fetched all of this sounds. You're an
intelligent, level-headed man. It's why I married you."
Dunmeyer realized there was no point in trying
to convince his wife. He would have to take care of
the situation himself in any event.
"I thought you married me for my body," he
joked to put her at ease.
"That, too." She smiled.
"All right, I'll shut up."
"I really wish you would go fishing. I'm tired of
eating canned food."
"Two trout coming up," he promised.
Lifting the telephone in his office, Dunmeyer
punched in a number and listened until he heard the
secretary's voice. A moment later Randolph was on
the line.
"I've changed my mind, Jack. I've decided to
continue your treatments with AT-11."
"Glad to hear it, doc."
"Can you come to the clinic right away?"
"No can do," Randolph said. "I have a board
meeting in half an hour. I'm sure you won't be
surprised to hear that I'm CEO of a big trucking
company now."
"Why should I be?"
"It tickles the hell out of me how you can't
remember anything. Yesterday I only had one truck."
"I don't recall it, but I believe you."
"How come?"
"I understand this phenomenon more than you
do."
"Good. You can help me change the whole
world."
Megalomania, Dunmeyer thought. He shuddered
to think of what Randolph might be planning. "Can
you make it here by four?"
"I'll try my best. Stick around if I'm a little late." looked up at his assistant. "Yes, it is."
Dunmeyer hung up. He wondered if AT-11 had
contributed to Randolph's state of mind. Perhaps any give it a try. That would be number 12, wouldn't
person would become power mad if he could make it?"
things happen by dreaming. Dunmeyer recalled
some lines of poetry:
If we could with fate conspire
To change this sorry scheme of things entire
Would we not mold it nearer to the heart's desire?
But which desire? -- that was the crucial question.
Since absolute power corrupted absolutely, no one
could be trusted with such an ability. In the end it
didn't matter who or what was to blame. Randolph
had to be stopped before he created a
universe that would be hellish for everyone
except him. Once a universe became manifest,
there was no going back to undo the time-line.
Not even the bizarre many-worlds theory allowed
for that.
Dunmeyer opened his desk drawer and took
out the revolver. He opened the cylinder to
make sure it was loaded and glanced at his
wristwatch. When Randolph arrived, he would
give him an injection of barbiturate and tell him
it was AT-11. Before Randolph could start
dreaming, he would play God like his patient
had been doing and put an end to what might
be the worst of all possible universes.
After deleting the computer files, Dunmeyer
flushed down the sink all but one large dose of
AT-11. He put the vial in his pocket and returned
to his office.
"I'm leaving," he said to Mel.
"I don't think it's a good idea," his assistant
said. "The police will want to talk to you."
"I'll be at home."
"What's going on, Walt?"
"I don't hav e time to explain. Just tell the
police they can find me at home."
As Dunmeyer drove out of the parking lot,
he spotted a police car at the end of the block
and made a quick left turn. He headed to the
freeway and cruised for an hour until he found
an isolated motel. He got a room under a false
name in case the police had broadcast an all-
points bulletin.
In the motel room Dunmeyer closed the
drapes, locked the door and stripped down to
his underwear. He turned down the lights and sat
on the bed looking at the syringe and vial of AT-
11. He had never taken the drug himself and he
had no idea how his body might react to such a
large dose. It was an experiment that he prayed
would work. If it didn't, his career would end in
disgrace and prison.
He found a vein and injected himself, then
stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes.
In a low murmur he repeated a few sentences
again and again as if he were trying to
memorize them. It was an old trick he had used
when he taught classes in coherent dreaming. If
you fell asleep with selective dream content
fixed in your mind, the chances were good that
you could control the direction of the dream.
Many people who suffered from recurring
nightmares emp-loyed this technique with great
success. It in-volved becoming aware that you
were dreaming while you were in the dream. This
allowed the dreamer to either transform the
nightmare into a pleasant dream or at least
wake himself if things became too frightening.
As Dunmeyer repeated the sentences
consciously, he realized on another level that the
last few days had been a sort of waking
nightmare. With any luck he would awake from
the nightmare of one reality find a more sane
reality in place.
"Too bad the new drug didn't work," Mel said.
Dunmeyer seemed distracted when he
"You can always synthesize another one and
"Correct," the doctor said. "AT-12."
"You want me to get rid of the AT-11?"
Dunmeyer hesitated, lost in thought.
"What's the use of keeping it if it doesn't
work?" Mel wondered.
"I suppose you're right. Go ahead and
dump it."
"By the way, you have a new patient."
"What is his problem? Insomnia or
nightmares?"
"Insomnia. Middle-aged guy named Jack
12.
Randolph."
Dunmeyer leaned forward in his desk chair.
"What did you say his name was?"
"Jack Randolph."
"I can't see him today. I'm going home early."
"Are you all right? You look funny."
Dunmeyer stood up and lifted a notebook from
his desk. "I'm feeling a little tired. I didn't get enough
sleep last night."
"You want me to schedule Randolph for
tomorrow morning?"
"Make it in the afternoon. I'll be in late tomorrow."
When Dunmeyer arrived home , Helen had the
fireplace going. He poured drinks for both of them
and emptied his glass in one gulp.
"Slow down, mister," his wife said. "You're
supposed to savor the taste of good whisky."
He poured himself another drink and said: "I
need to warm up. It feels like the North Pole outside."
"Come sit by the fire."
Dunmeyer sat down took the notebook out of
his pocket. He thumbed through the pages and
shook his head in dismay.
"It doesn't make sense," he mumbled.
"What is it?"
"I found this in my office safe this morning. It's in
my handwriting, but I don't remember writing it or
putting it in the safe."
"You're getting old, Walt."
"It's about a man I never heard of until after I
found the notebook."
"You lost me there."
"The notebook has some crazy information
about a man named Jack Randolph. A few hours
later Mel tells me I have a new patient named Jack
Randolph."
"Sounds spooky," his wife admitted. "What sort of
crazy information?"
"He takes AT-11 and it makes his dreams come
true."
"Someone at the clinic is playing a joke on you."
"They would have to be a master forger to get
my handwriting down so perfectly."
"If you didn't write it, then why worry about it?"
"I don't know. I have a strange feeling I can't
explain. Did we ever have a cabin on a lake?"
"You wish!" Helen noticed the look on his face.
"You're really upset about this, aren't you?"
"Not exactly."
"Then why the long puss?"
"This damned notebook --"
"I have the solution," his wife said. "Throw it in th e
fire and forget about it."
"You think I should?"
She grabbed the notebook from his hand and
tossed it into the flames. "Problem solved."
He watched it burn. "I suppose you're right. It's
just a bunch of nonsense."
Helen sipped her drink and smiled at him. "Was
this your way of telling me you want to buy a cabin in
the mountains?"
"No," he said.
"Good. We can't afford it."
"But now that I think of it --"
"Walt!"
"Wouldn't it be nice to have a place to escape to
in January when the weather is so hot and humid?" WB
I like to think of the world I created as
being a kind of keystone in the
universe; that, small as the keystone is,
if it were ever taken away the universe
itself would collapse.
- William Faulkner
Writer's Beat
Writer's Club
A Kiss
by Baron
A kiss would make it better
when I was a child;
Every hurt forgot
in loving arms.
Bruised and muddy, open
wounds of running wild;
love, the potion made,
the magic charm.
A kiss, sealed promise;
two, agreeing one,
going on together
through the storms.
Knowing times of rapture,
like children in the sun,
scattering new dreams
into the dawn.
A kiss; stolen, betrayal;
liquid hopes overrun,
those scattered dreams
now tossed into the night.
A price, a moment taken,
so when I look again,
I know the loss;
love slaughtered, turned to spite.
Opening out the letter,
to look, to read the words
that burn upon the pages,
dimming light;
A kiss would make it better,
a touch, warmth now denied;
if I was but a child...
Father dear
by Azmacna
Where can I find the bricks and
mortar
To free my son and forgive my
daughter?
How can I summon the courage still
To climb this unforgiving hill?
What can I do to hold here fast
Not slip again into my past?
Why is it so hard to see
The beautiful son that I could be?
Who held me close, whispered
sweet
Told me tales, tucked in my sheets?
Loved me dearly like no other?
Father dear, it was my mother
When I was a young boy they
called me a liar. Now that I'm all
grown up, they call me a writer.
- Isaac Bashevis Singer
13.
The Beat Goes On...
Bits and bobs from the
Writer's Beat forum
Selected Quotes from the
eminent, ever-quotable
Starrwriter:
"I hate the word spork.
Is it a spoon? Is it a fork?
Yes and no. But don't tell me
it's both."
"Your story. Your world. Your rules."
"The first step [to writing] is to start
putting words on paper.
The second step is to continue
putting words on paper."
"Don't hesitate, write it now."
"Oh, one should never shake hands
with a lurker unless one is fully
innoculated against cyber
viruses. Fortunately, there hasn't
been a major outbreak of
malignant clandestinusia in
many years."
"I'm one very happy pirate
right now."
Writer's Beat
Writer's Club
C O N T E S T
Featuring the winning Writer's Beat contest entries From July & August 2007
F I C T I O N
JULY
What a fantastic round of
entries we had for this topic.
You all really impressed us
with the quick pacing and
riveting story lines. Excellent
job everyone.
The winner in the July 2007 Fiction contest is
Gary_Wagner and his intergalactic tale.
Allutia Prima
by Gary_Wagner
Allutia Alpha, the bigger and brighter of the two
visible suns set behind the towering mountain
range much quicker than I was expecting. I
should have expected it since I had spent a
year studying every detail of Allutia Prima before
going into deep space hibernation for the long
journey here. Still, the faster rotation of this planet
wasn’t first and foremost on my mind while I
spent the past two hours running from the
monkelopes.
Monkelopes is the name I gave the
pursuing creatures. They weren’t in any of the
neuro-vids I downloaded and they weren’t in the
info-cubes. Every single thing I cerebro-
downloaded said that there were no carnivores
on this stupid planet, which is one of the reasons
I planned it for my post-graduation trip, but when
a monkey-tailed furry thing with an antelope-like
rack of antlers comes charging after you, being
eaten doesn’t matter as much as being gored
to death. I don’t care if they eat me or not after
I’m dead. I care quite a bit about being dead.
This whole trip has been a living night-
W I N N E R S
mare from the beginning. Our departure date
was delayed six weeks when they decided at the
last minute to replace the main reverse vortex
synchronization drive with the latest and greatest
of twenty-third century technology – the virtual
anomaly vertical rotation nano reticulator; or
affectionately known as the worm hole winder. A
geek like me with a major in off-world studies and
a minor in rocket propulsion engineering
understands the subtle differences in the engine
technology but for the common tourist, they just
know that the new drive is supposed to be forty
percent faster than the old one.
“Supposed to be” is the key phrase here. At
the time I left Earth, no one had ever heard of, or
even conceived of a worm-hole divergence
particulate storm. Our ship, the S.S. Hiram Page,
pride of the Mormon Empire’s fleet, was the first
to ever experience this interstellar phenomenon.
It completely knocked out the worm hole winder
drive. We ended up limping on to our target
destination on a hyperdrive. Can you believe
that? All they had as a backup was a hundred
and fifty year old hyperdrive? For Brigham’s sake,
we had to crawl the rest of the way at warp 4.
When was that heap originally built, in the stone
age?
Of course, they didn’t bother to tell any of us
that while we were in cryo-sleep. They simply told
us when they thawed us out that, “Oh by the way,
you were asleep for twenty-six years, not the four
weeks you were expecting.” I may be
exaggerating their callousness about it, but it’s
what it seemed like. You know how those
Mormons are. Nothing bothers them.
Then they dropped the other bombshell on
us; that we were going to have to use the
hyperdrive for the entire trip back home – all forty-
one years of it. By the time I got back home to
Smith City, it would have been fifty-eight years
since I left. That’s a third of a lifetime. Some of my
friends will probably be married and might even
have applications for children submitted by then.
How crazy is that?
Always the optimist, I tried to take the news in
stride and still enjoy my adventure. I was one of a
group of twenty-three adventu-tourists that were
the first ever allowed in to explore Allutia Prima.
That is still the most exciting thing I have ever
been involved in and I decided I would deal with
almost sixty years passing by back home without
14.
"... we were going to have to
use the hyperdrive for the
entire trip back home – all
forty-one years of it. By the time
I got back home to Smith City,
it would have been fifty-eight
years since I left.
That’s a third of a
lifetime."
me when I got there. It’s not like I could do
anything about it now.
The first view from the observation level put all
of those thoughts behind me in an instant. Three
of the tourists died during crypto-sleep but every
one of the remaining twenty were standing there
on the deck in excited anticipation when they
opened up the anti-omega shields and we got
our first glimpse of the Allutia solar system. It was
more spectacular than I had ever imagined. No
matter how real they make the virtual reality
neuro-links, nothing can substitute the feeling
that comes from knowing that this is not simply
an extremely realistic image – you are actually
there and this is reality.
Allutia Alpha filled half of the view through the
observation window. Even through the digital
polarizer filters, it was painful to look directly at
the core for more than a few seconds. It was
hard to fathom a sun that could swallow up
Earth’s sun as if it were a pebble in the ocean
until seeing it live and real while standing silently
on that observation deck. It made Allutia Beta
appear as a dim glowing disk off in the distance
even though it in itself is a huge sun by Earth
standards. Allutia Gamma could be seen for a
few hours but disappeared behind Allutia Alpha
as we approached Allutia Prima.
Allutia Prima sparkled like a diamond. The ice
packs, three kilometer thick caps of crystallized
ice covering the tops of mountains stretching up
an amazing forty kilometers in places caught the
suns light and sent prismatic rainbow beams out
like an invitation to paradise. That’s where the
planet picked up the nickname of “The Diamond
Planet”.
Continued on page 15
Writer's Beat
Writer's Club
JULY 2007
Allutia Prima, Continued from pg. 14
When this planet was originally discovered they
thought the sparkling came from a thick coating
of diamonds. Little did they know at the time
that instead of being coated with worthless
minerals, it was covered in the most precious
substance known to man – fresh pure water.
That’s what made this planet so mind-boggling.
As expensive as an ice-crystal engagement ring
is back on Earth, imagine some of these caps
the size of Australia.
We weren ’t there as part of the ice-mining
crew, though. We were simply tourists on a four
week vacation. Allutia Prima had been
promoted as the ultimate adventu-tourist
destination. The atmosphere matched Earth in
its pre-pollution days. There were no known toxins
in any plant, animal, or other creature. There
were no carnivores, no predators, no insects. A
layer of arcanicol gas covering the planet
provided protection from the damaging
radiation of the suns so there wasn’t even any
sunburn on Allutia Prima.
Maybe I shouldn ’t use the all inclusive term,
“we” when referring to the group of twenty who
survived cryo-sleep. Turns out that the three who
died and me had something in common. Also
turns out that nineteen of the survivors had
something in common that I didn’t share. They
were all Neo-Baptists. I was raised as an Apathist
and had never met any of the radical Neo-
Baptists prior to this trip. They were every bit as
unpleasant and obnoxious as I had read they
were.
They weren ’t tourists after all – they were
colonists. Colonization wasn’t legal on Allutia
Prima yet but they aren’t much for laws and
such. When they opened up their crates of
supplies, they pulled out guns. I don’t mean
gamma-stream projectile weapons – I’m talking
about ancient history, wild-west, gunpowder and
metal bullet guns. I’ve seen these in virtuo-
museums but never in my wildest dreams
thought that people would actually still use
them. Neither did the ship’s officers until one of
them had his left arm blown off from the elbow
down when one of the Neo-Baptists shot him for
refusing to obey their command. I mean, that
guy could have died if the medical technician
hadn’t slapped a proton-tourniquet on there
quickly. I’ll bet that really hurt, too, and will be
pretty annoying for him until they can grow the
arm back in the cloning tank.
I guess it could have been worse. I could
have never woken from cryo-sleep like the other
three the Neo-Baptist took care of. They don’t
even see what they did as killing anyone. They
believe that someone in cryo-sleep isn’t actually
alive so they were simply “preventing
resurrection”. Since I survived in spite of their
attempt to get rid of me, they gave me a little
bit of respect and gave me a choice – convert
or leave.
I chose to leave because I guess I still had
the foolish notion that I would get my four week
vacation and I would return to the ship when it
left. I left on a skitter-craft with my supplies and
equipment at the same time they left with theirs
to set up their new Neo-Baptist colony. I was
Contest Winners continued on page 16
C O N T E S T
shocked when only minutes after leaving the
landing sight, I saw the Hiram Page lift off and
leave Allutia Prima for good. I didn’t think the
Mormons would give up so easily.
My skitter-craft died two days ago. I ’ve been
running from monkelopes and trying to find the
Neo-Baptist camp somewhere in this great big
empty world. I think I found their trail and it looks
like I’ll be a Neo-Baptist soon. I can’t beat them
so I guess I’ll join them.
NON-FICTION
JULY
Congratulations to thehungryghost for winning
July's Non-Fiction contest. All entries were a
pleasure to read, so keep writing and
submitting!
WHY DO I WRITE?
By TheHungryGhost
I wonder why I write, what drives me to
continually try to express my thoughts, ideas
and feelings in words, endlessly attempting to fill
this empty screen or page with squiggles,
reaching out to an unknown audience. I know
how I tremble with excitement when the words
flow together, sliding effortlessly onto the page.
There is a sense of relief, even achievement at
the thought that a connection has been made;
a moment has been captured.
At this moment I feelempty. My interest in the
things around me has waned. I corner myself
and question my worth, knowing only too well
how this line of inquiry destroys the validity of first
thought, strangling the quiet voices; like fragile
wings beneath a heavy hoof.
Welcome to writers block I tell myself, or is it
really a block? I suppose it’s a block in the sense
that something has come between the writer
and the written word. However there isn’t
anything extra that needs to be removed.
There is no archenemy
"When you start looking for
something beyond the process
of writing itself then you are
giving others the power to
censor your words before they
arrive on the page. This is not
the way of truth and
honesty. It is the way
of compromise
and slavery."
15.
W I N N E R S
that you must confront. Even the inner critic
should be embraced and explored. What is it
then that lies beneath this apparently solid and
fixed end point? Is it perchance a need to be
loved, a need to feel special, some form of
acknowledgement from another and another
and another? Our egos can hold an infinite
amount of adulation and still crave more. It is
from this dark place of desperation that the
question, ‘Why write?’ begins.
Who is asking the question, the Ego or the
Everyman? The answer to this question will
become more apparent when you ask yourself
what you want from the process. Is it immediate
and perfect results, a publishing deal followed
by wide acclaim in the outside world. There are
plenty of people who are willing to help you on
your path to success and who will show you how
to hone your skill to fill a hole in the market. If this
is where it’s at for you, then that’s fine, good luck
to you. It does not rock my boat. It would soil the
process for me; stop me dead in the water.
These material wants are definitely within the
Ego's grasp and they overlook for me the most
important element in the creative process; the
ability to be real, to be honest and to continually
return to the blank page over and over again
without looking for anything in return.
As soon as you start looking for payback you
fall into the Egos domain, a place of
comparison, where too much concern is placed
on what others think, and too much worry on
whether or not you will get your required
adoration. When you start looking for something
beyond the process of writing itself then you are
giving others the power to censor your words
before they arrive on the page. This is not the
way of truth and honesty. It is the way of
compromise and slavery.
For me there is no better way than to begin a
new each day and to be ever grateful for the
ability and freedom to express my inner world,
the outer world as I see it and the intimate
connection between the two. I write because it
helps me to make contact with my centre ground.
It brings me back to where I am. Sometimes that
place may be uncomfortable and painful and
yet my continued attempts to be there and
express this through the written word helps me to
make sense of it and not fight it, distort it or worse
deny it. I begin to see that it is the juice of my life
and in it; in the very nuts and bolts of these
meanderings, I connect in some sense with the
universal, that which we all share.
"A wonderfully written, thought-
provoking commentary."
"You can't become a writer by
reading Elements of Style," he said.
"You've got to experience life."
– Love Me, Garrison Keillor
Writer's Beat
Writer's Club 16.
JULY 2007 C O N T E S T W I N N E R S
Continued from pg. 15

P O E T R Y Ode to Sunlight "If you have

JULY Winterstorm five seconds to
We would like to give a BIG
thank you to Kal for agreeing
spare, then I'll
to be a guest judge this month.
This month's contest theme was
Sun peeks through our tell you the
"Ode." shades story of my life."
We have a tie for first place!
Congratulations to both
lighting parts of our bed – Morrissey
Winterstorm and Gary_Wagner, nestling up under our
and thanks to everyone for
entering and either inspiring sheets
us or making us hungry.
as we lay.
Ode to a Hot Dog
I roll around over its rays
Gary Wagner
while it plays peek-a-boo in
Oh steaming joy of pig my hair.
intestined pleasure
My husband wakes, turns to
Encapsulated grindings of
squealing swine see me
Your spices entices, in my trance of movement.
invites, delights, And underneath the covers
Your tube of joy enthralls
he touches the light
Plump and tender you lie that shines on our crisp
in perfect pinkness white sheets.
Upon a wheaten bed of
I kiss the sunlight on his lips
purest white
Your juices sluices, and follow the path that it
endures, allures creates.
Your bun invites the bite
Touching each others light

In the brightest shade of we

buttercup yellow fall into the sunlights
The condiment graces your trance- once again.
sides This Month's
Upon the still calm Quote of Note:
mustard river Gary_Wagner
Lies the pickled relish of life Writer's Beat
Oh hot dog thou art a gift
is growing! "Give a man a fish and
he will eat for a day.
from gods Register today and be Teach a man to fish
Perfection of bread bound a part of our unique and he will sit in a boat
meat writer's community. all day and drink beer."
A joy to behold in wonder - The Prophet of Zen
A greater joy to eat. Sarcasm

Contest Winners continued on page 17

Writer's Beat
Writer's Club
August, 2007
Continued from pg. 16
F I C T I O N
AUGUST
Many of you showed us what a dark sense of
humor you have. And we loved it! This was
another extremely close one--half a point
separated first and second. Congratulations
to gary_wagner for a hilarious portrayal of an
elderly couple on a cliff.
Cliff Notes
by Gary Wagner
They stood on the edge, ready to meet their
fate hundreds of feet below. A strong salty wind
hit them with occasional gusts. They wobbled
like bowling pins that refuse to fall.
“Harry?”
“Yes, Margaret?”
“Harry?”
“What is it, dear?”
“Harry?”
Shouting, Harry said, “Oh for God’s sake,
Margaret. What is it?”
With a furrowed brow, Margaret replied, “Well
you don’t have to use that tone of voice with
me, Harry Mitzler. I wanted to tell you I lost one of
my hearing aids in the wind.”
“You lost your hearing aid?”
In a useless action, Margaret cupped her
hand around the ear closest to Harry, “What?”
Shouting again, “Margaret, for crying out
loud. Come around to the other side so you can
hear me with your good ear.”
“Can’t move.”
“Oh, don’t be scared, honey. We’re going to
jump anyway. If you fall, I’ll be right behind you.”
Grimacing, Margaret said, “No, sweetie. I
can’t move because my prosthetic pelvis
locked up again. Would you look for my hearing
aid? I’m pretty sure it’s close behind me.”
“You need it now?”
“Need a cow, Harry? Of course I don’t need
a cow. I need my hearing aid.”
“I didn’t say anything about a cow,
Margaret.”
“Well, I should hope not. Standing here in this
wind with only one hearing aid and my legs
locked in place is not the time to be talking
about cows.”
Shaking his head knowing it was useless to
argue with her, Harry turned to look behind them
for her wayward hearing aid. When he turned, a
strong gust of wind knocked his glasses off. “Oh
jeez, my glasses are blown off. “
“Well, yes, we are freezing our asses off but
you don’t have to be vulgar, Harry.”
Harry threw his hands up in the air and
stomped in a circle, as he did at times of
extreme frustration. He stopped, began jumping
on one foot and cried out, “Ow, oh ouch, I cut
my foot on a piece of broken glass.”
Since Harry jumped his way to the other side
of Margaret, she heard him through her
remaining hearing aid. “Cut your foot? How on
earth did you do that, Harry?”
Continued on pg. 18
C O N T E S T W I N N E R S
Looking down and seeing that he was barefoot,
she exclaimed, “Harry, just what are you doing
without your shoes and socks on?”
Still hopping, but slower now, Harry said, “I
took them off. Those are my best shoes.”
Margaret put her hands on her hips and with
the stern look of a mother who has brought tears
to her children with her eyes alone said, “Oh, for
heaven’s sake, Harry, what are you doing
running around on a cliff barefoot? What were
you thinking?”
Sheepishly, and unable to look into Margaret’s
steel blue eyes, “I was thinking that I paid a lot of
money for those shoes and there’s no need to
ruin them.”
Reaching down to hold her cotton dress
down from a strong updraft, Margaret said, “Oh,
forget about the shoes and forget about the
hearing aid. Let’s just do this, Harry and be done
“Standing here
in this wind with
only one hearing
aid and my legs
locked in place is
not the time to
be talking about
cows.”
with it. You left the note for the kids, right?”
“Oh of course I left the note, Margaret. I
might be 86 but I haven’t lost my mind yet.”
Harry then did several deep-knee thrusts
which he did when trying to make the point that
he was still physically fit – in spite of his age and
the loud clicking sound his knees made each
time he stood erect again. On the fourth thrust,
Harry lost his balance and fell over onto his
back. A piece of paper slipped out of the shirt
pocket of his plaid flannel shirt.
“What was that, Harry?”
“Oh, I just fell over, it doesn’t mean I’m
feeble yet.”
“No, Harry, I know how fit you are. You tell me
every day how you’re fit as a fiddle. Fit as a
fiddle. Fit as a fiddle. Sounds like a parrot,
sometimes.”
“Now, don’t be calling me a parrot again,
Margaret. In a few minutes, you won’t have to
hear me say it again and I don’t have to hear
that snoring of yours. You sound like you
swallowed a chainsaw and a couple of hyenas
are fighting over it.”
“Well, Harry Mitzler, at least I would have
remembered to leave the note.”
17.
“I told you, woman, that I left the note. Left it
laying on the kitchen table just like you pestered
me to.”
Margaret pursed her lips, and wagged her
finger at Harry, which he couldn’t see without his
glasses, “I saw you write that note and put it in
your shirt pocket, Harry. I told you three times to
make sure you left it on the table and now I just
saw it blow away in the wind. That’s it. I’m not
going to do this with you today. Let’s just go
home.”
“You mean we’re not going to jump? I took
my shoes off and everything.”
“No, not today, Harry. Now pick up your
glasses, they’re by your left foot.”
Harry felt around on the ground and found
his glasses. As soon as he put them on he said,
“Well, by jove, there’s your hearing aid right
beside your foot.”
He picked up the hearing aid and handed it
to her when he stood up. He put his shoes on
and put his shoulder against her stomach and
picked her up. The motion knocked her artificial
pelvis loose and her legs flopped forward, but
they locked in place again when he stood up.
Margaret had her arms wrapped around his
neck and it looked like she was kneeling on his
butt.
“I can’t get you in the passenger seat like
that, honey. I’ll prop you up in the truck bed. I
have bungee cords, I’ll strap you in good.”
“All right, dear. You want pork chops for
supper?”
“Pork chops sounds great, sweetie.”
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NON-FICTION
AUGUST
Congrats to Cuchulain with the
essay on Bipolar Disorder.
Bipolar Disorder:
A Cautionary Essay
By Kevin L. [Cuchulain]
I read a book called Fight Club once.
And Harry Potter.
It was really good.
Like magic.
Totally, indescribably articulate.
And not funny at all.
I read it over the course of two days. It made
for good bedtime reading.
What young, auspicious, angst-ridden
teenage writer wouldn’t take up reading a book
about guys beating the crap out of each other
for fun as bedtime reading?
I slept pretty well during that time.
Writer's Beat
Writer's Club
August, 2007
Continued from pg. 17
After I read the book I went back to my normal
life, which isn’t really saying much.
I ’d already seen the movie.
You know.
The one with Brad Pitt and Edward Norton?
Ever heard of them?
I guess that ’s the problem.
Not the solution.
We all know who Tyler Durden is. He makes
soap.
He also uses soap to blow things up.
That’s the solution, not the problem.
If you know what I mean.
Let ’s go back to the past. I can’t sleep. I’m
an insomniac. I’m a writer and I’m writing
constantly. I’m obsessive. I write every little tidbit
down in my big 3 subject notebook and I
scribble down every little thing that pops into
my mind. I’m afraid of my thoughts. I’m afraid
of losing them.
I read, I write, I don ’t sleep, and I write again.
That is my life. Was my life. Probably will be my
life again at some point if I can’t find away out
of this mess.
Several days later, I ’m in a hospital and I think
that I’m gonna be famous. I’m Harry Potter, the
boy who lived. I’m Naruto-kun, the writer. Hear
me roar.
Strike a pose.
Give me the thinker.
Give me unreasonable hope
Give me the Harry Potter look
Give me the Irishman.
But before that, things get a little messy. I re-
member Sarah and how her sister got hit by a
car and lost her leg. I re-member how Sarah
used to cut herself because of it. I remember
how I was in love with Sarah.
Give me unconditional love.
Give me an achy breaky heart.
She never loved me and never will.
Good ol’ Sarah. Whatever happened to her?
What happened to everybody. What
happened to my best friend Chuck, who used
to smoke weed with me all the time and now
wallows in his own misery over the loss of his
underaged girlfriend?
What happened to Joe?
What happened to Matt, who shot himself
because he got caught selling pot brownies?
His name is Matthew Bechara.
What happened to Matt, who got hit by a
car on New Years eve because he ran away
from cops?
His name is Matthew Valenza.
I met a lot of people in the hospital. People
that I liked. I stopped thinking about Sarah,
even though I saw Sarah everywhere. Not just
Sarah, but Joe. They both disappeared and I
never saw them again.
I also saw Matt. Both of them. The one ’s that
died.
Sarah was in my head, just like Tyler Durden
was in everybody who became infatuated with
that movies head.
That’s when I remember the rules.
You ’re not supposed to talk about Fight Club.
You ’re not supposed to ask questions.
18.
C O N T E S T W I N N E R S
Only I broke that rule. I asked everyone if they
ever read the book called Fight Club. Mostly
nobody did but occasionally someone would say
P O E T R Y
that they saw one of the movies. AUGUST
Flash back to my insomnia.
It’s the fourth of July and my Dad got his face To have literally chosen words
all fucked up from a biking accident and he had at random, you all did a good job
to go to the hospital. Meanwhile I think I’m going creating lovely poems out of them.
bonkers because my mind doesn’t stop thinking Great job, everyone!
about stuff. Our guest judges this month were
Don’t worry, it’s just the bipolar talking. Triquediqual and Tau Worlock. Thank
That’s what I told my friends afterwards. you both for your time and input.
Congratulations once again to
My uncle Richie recognizes this and he gives Gary_Wagner for winning August's
me some tea and it makes me calm down and I
poetry contest.
think I’m lucid dreaming.
But before that I’m stoned out of my mind at
my friends house and we’re listening to Pink Floyd The Eyes Have It
and we’re playing Stairway to Heaven backwards. by Gary Wagner
I ’m kicking the shit out of someone in my fav-
orite Japanese fighting game.
Eyes of pistachio green
I love Japanese imports.
I bring Fight Club to Richie and he looks at it belie the black heart of the man
and he says that he is glad he showed me this who would rule the world.
book but he doesn’t explain.
We have a bit of a therapy session. Richie Words resembling wisdom
does something in the psychiatry field, though I’m roll from this man ’s mouth,
not sure what it is exactly. bring crowds to their feet
I notice how beautiful the flowers are. in maniacal fervor
Richie tells me to hold on to that. that would make the third Reich
I do. proud.
He also tells me that sometimes to understand
Finnegans wake you have to read it from back to Hang the criminals,
front. kill our enemies,
So I do. imprison those who don ’t agree.
Holy shit.
Am I a madman? Or a genius? Ban the books, then burn them,
I guess I was both. arrest the journalists,
Either way, I pass on Fight Club to a friend control the media,
(who still hasn’t read it) and a 200 dollar record- promote propaganda,
ing system that I was given as a birthday present.,
silence dissent.
with the promise that one day he will return them
if I ask for it.
If you ’re reading this now, you are not wasting Liberty is destroyed,
your life. Wasting your life is in fact a good way to freedom absconded.
not waste your life. So go ahead. Read Finnegans
wake backwards. Try and learn something you Military might defeats diplomacy
don’t yet know. Think you know it all? Drop out of as nations fall under the
high school and see if you do. Think you can stop combat boots
smoking pot? Do it, and show the world that you of the green-eyed menace.
can. Think you’ve got a really good idea for a
book? Try and market it and see if it sells. But most Tanks rumble from sea to sea,
likely, if you’re reading this still you probably don’t bombs fall like explosive hail,
think it is marketable. But I’m here to tell you that missiles fly in evil arcs,
if you have read this from back to front and dec- cities and citizens are incinerated,
ided you like it, it’s probably worth selling. Some- nuclear winter puts an end to
times, tedious prose gets in the way of good global warming.
writing. But whose fault is that? The writers? It’s your
obligation to read this all the way through and The man who would steal the
consider what you read. If you skip over parts or world
skim the pages of life’s stories, you will miss impor- sat back through years of turmoil,
tant details. That is a lesson that not even a block-
watched consolidation of power,
buster movie can tell you.
assumed global control
But anyways, to get back on target what I ’m
trying to say is that you should read Fight Club. It’s with a single shot from an
a very important book, and will remain so for gen- assassin’s gun
erations to come. between the pistachio eyes.
Fuck the movies.
Read a book. The man with the chocolate eyes
Tell everyone about it. will rule the world
Read this again. until another assassin finds him
That ’s the solution. or until the people take it back.
Writer's Beat
Writer's Club 19.
Writer's Beat From the Forum:
Don't Know
What to Write?
Try One of These:
1. Write about a
dream you would like
to fulfill before you
die.

2. Write a story about

a weird event in your
town's history.

3. What's the
funniest thing you
every heard or saw?
Describe it in story
form.

4. Write about
your first love - or
a poem.

5. Write a letter to
the president/prime
minister of your
country. What do you
want him/her to
change?

6. Write a country or
blues song about
your life.

7. Your house is on
fire and three people
are sleeping in other
rooms. You only have
time to save two of
them. Who do you
choose to save, OR,
how can you possibly
save all three?

8. Who would be
one person you would
take with you to a
desert island?
How soon would you
begin to drive each
other nuts?

9. You are a mental

patient. Write a story
or poem about your
view of the world.

10. What about your

one pet peeve and
why it bothers you.

11. Write about a

resolution you failed
to keep.

12. Write about a

confrontation with a
person or family
member you don't
get along with.

Writer's Beat
Writer's Club 20.

Picture Puzzle
by Mridula C.

Can you guess these book titles? Take a look at the following clues:
1. 2. 3.

4.

5. 7.

6.

Stumped? Here are a few hints :

1. Where is the lower bird sitting? What species of bird is it?
Now you've figured that out, what is the higher bird doing?
2. Who is this person?
3. Everybody is so sad!
4. What are the people doing? Now, where does the arrow poi nt?
5. It's a field of...? And whose field is it?
6. There is a field of some grain. There is someone in the field.
What is that person doing?
7. How many soccer balls are there? Answers are on page 21

Writer's Beat
Writer's Club 21.

Writer's Club Picture Prompt

In the spirit of
this issue's New
Horizons feature,
we encourage
you to browse
photos from other
nations. Learning
about other
cultures invariably
leads to expansion
of both the mind
and the heart.

Here's a few to
get you started.

ANSWERS TO PHOTO PUZZLE FROM PAGE 19:

2. The Stranger [ L'Étranger ] 3. Les Miserables 4. Middlemarch 5. Flowers of Evil 6. Catcher in the Rye 7. Catch-22 1. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

Writer's Club Staff If you’d like to see your artwork or

photo on the cover of the next issue
COLUMNISTS AND CONTRIBUTORS: of Writer’s Club, submit it to us
Hakeem D. Taya L. Mridula C. by either using the “Contact Us”
Jillian C. Michelle B. form located on the bottom of
the Writer’s Beat Forum main page, or
EDITING contact: hakeemd@writersbeat.com
Hakeem D. Mridula C. Jillan C. mridulac@writersbeat.com
Taya L. for more details.

COVER DESIGN & PAGE LAYOUT

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All writing works and photos contained within are either property of Writer’s Beat or used with permission by the authors/artists noted. NO PART OF THIS PUBLICATION MAY BE
COPIED, PRINTED, REPRODUCED OR OTHERWISE CIRCULATED WITHOUT PERMISSION FROM THE AUTHORS. COPYRIGHT 2007 WRITERSBEAT.COM.
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