A humble offer to Dunkin’ Donuts

I don’t drink coffee. I rarely eat donuts.

Even still, I’d like to humbly offer my services to Dunkin’ Donuts, a business that has six locations (no exaggeration) within one mile of my home (also no exaggeration).

I watched this commercial last night, waiting for the irony… the moment when the commercial would turn on itself and make fun of its own stupidity, except that never happened.

Someone actually wrote this, filmed it and broadcast it, thinking it was good. Thinking it would make viewers want to purchase Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. 

Dunkin’ Donuts chieftains, I promise you this:

I will write 50 commercials better than this one. Maybe 100. I realize that I am establishing a low bar based upon the mediocrity I witnessed tonight, but I will exceed that bar y a wide margin. I promise.

Make me an offer. Seriously. Make me an offer.

Judd Apatow’s Freaks and Geeks determined the plot. My characters do the same.

From an interview with Judd Apatow, I learned that the characters and plot for Freaks and Geeks (a television show I never watched) were designed around actors.

First they found their actors. Then they developed the stories based upon those people. Their predispositions. Their predilections. Their personal histories.

I’m fascinated by this. 

Similarly, the plots of my books are very much determined by my characters. I find the characters (usually a single protagonist), and then the characters strike out and find the plot.

I just write, hoping that they will find a plot sooner than later.

It’s worked so far. In fact, the only book that I started with plot rather than character first was the book that required the most revision.

Most of my novels were exceptionally light edits. Ready to go.

It turns out that if I take Judd Apatow’s Freaks and Geeks approach and allow my characters to dictate the story, things work out better.

Great even.

How strange. It’s almost as if the more control we relinquish over plot, the better our stories will be.

No one taught me that in college.  

I may not be an author yet, but I write like one.

I’ve published three novels since 2009. All three were sold internationally, including the most recent, Memoirs of an Imaginary Friend, which has been translated into 25 languages worldwide and is an international bestseller.

All three of my novels have been optioned for television or film.

My next novel, The Perfect Comeback of Caroline Jacobs, is in the final stages of revision with my editor.

I’ve even co-written a rock opera that was produced at a local theater last year.

Despite this success, I still don’t think of myself as an accomplished author. I feel like I have much to prove. I consider myself a rookie. A newbie. Possibly a pretender.

Maybe this is something all writers go through. I often wonder how many books I will need to publish before I don’t feel odd referring to myself as an author.

Oddly enough, it’s often not the success of any of my books that makes me feel most akin to other authors, but instead the discovery that we have something in common in terms of the craft.  

I read some facts about other authors much better than me recently that gave me hope that I might also be a real author, or at least I might begin thinking about myself as a real author.

Agatha Christie never owned a desk. She wrote 80 novels and 19 plays wherever she could sit down.

I own a desk in an unheated, insulated “office” off my living room. In the winter, the room is literally freezing. I don’t think I have ever written a single word of fiction while sitting at that desk. 

I do much of my writing on my dining room table, but I also write in libraries, bookstores, my children’s bedrooms, fast food restaurants, hotels, coffee shops, public transportation, the teacher’s lunchroom  and any other place that I can find.

I’m always amused by the writer who tells me that he or she can only write in a well appointed coffee shop while drinking a hazelnut latte. I’ve met many, many writers who claim that they can only under of specific conditions at specific times, but I have yet to meet a published author with such rigid requirements.

Stephen King writes every day of the year and aims for a goal of 2000 words each day.

I don’t have a daily word goal, mostly because I am often dividing my writing between two or three books plus this blog and another (and various other projects), so counting words would be hard.

But I have written every single day of my life for at least ten years, including my wedding day, every day of my honeymoon, and on the days that both of my children were born.

In fact, I worked on my second novel, Unexpectedly, Milo, in between my wife’s contractions in the delivery room.

When Anthony Trollope finished writing one book, he immediately started another. Henry James did the same thing.

When I finished my first novel, Something Missing, I resolved to take a three month break from writing and begin the process of finding an agent. I typed the final word of the book on a Saturday afternoon, closed the document, sat for about 30 seconds, pondering my next move, and then opened a new Word document and began my next book.

I have done the same for every book since.

The kid has a data driven writing process

Last year I spoke at a local library about by books and writing. Sitting front and center in the first row was a young man who wants to be a writer. He was on the edge of his seat, ready to absorb all that I had to say. He listened intently, asked lots of questions and at the end of his talk, he introduced himself to me.

His name is Caleb.

Since that day, Caleb has sent me some of his work from time to time, and when I have the chance, I will read it and send him back some feedback. He’s young, but he’s already showing the signs of a promising writing career.

He has chops.

Almost as important, he’s polite. He’s social adept. He understands that a teacher/author/wedding DJ/father/husband/minister/storyteller gets busy and sometimes can’t read everything.

I can’ tell you how many adult writers do not understand this.

Recently he sent me a series of graphs that display his writing production. On the right side of the first graph is his projected word count, and along the bottom of the graph is the timespan that he has been recording data.

He has labeled the three colors on the graph so you can see each color represents.

The writer in me loves his “projected word count if not for school.”

The teacher in me is less enamored with it.

I also love the “winter break comeback” label. As a writer and a teacher, I understand a winter break comeback very well. I often live and die by the winter break comeback. 

This second graph shows the daily word production.

I’m not sure if Caleb is going to become a bestselling author someday, but I know that he is committed to the craft. I also know that he is taking an approach to writing that I don’t see often amongst writers:

The kid is being honest with himself. The kid is being opaque about his productivity. The kid is using data and accountability to drive his word count. 

Absent a boss or supervisor, he is using data and graphs to meet his goals.

It doesn’t mean his writing is great, but in my experience, the more you write, the better you get.

Caleb has chops, and he’s only getting better, one data point at a time.

Watch The Rolling Stones write “Sympathy for the Devil”

I have always wanted to sit quietly beside a writer and watch him or her work for a few days. I’m fascinated by a writer’s process, and I often wonder if writers are applying their craft in the same way I do.

Actually, I’ve wanted to do the same thing for editors.

Are they applying their red pen with the sinister grins and diabolical laughter that I envision?

Probably.

This video doesn’t show the kind of writing that I had in mind, but it might be better. A documentarian filmed The Rolling Stones as they were writing “Sympathy for the Devil” and captured their process in full.

I’ve watched it twice already. Completely fascinating. 

Naissance de "Sympathy for the devil " (one+one... by cinocheproduction

A writer’s worst enemy

The plan was to spend the afternoon in the library, toiling away at the manuscript. But as I was packing the laptop, this was happening, which means that progress on my book ceased around 1:30.

I’ll regret the lost time in a few days when I am pecking away into the wee hours of the morning, attempting to polish a modicum of perfection from an ugly slab of granite, but at the moment, I don’t regret a damn thing.

   

My daughter’s first manuscript

My daughter can only form a handful of letters from the alphabet, but she started writing her first book after being inspired by the television show Max and Ruby.

Television promoting the written word. Who knew?

In a strange turn of events, however, she insisted on writing the words herself and asked me to draw the pictures.

She clearly doesn’t understand her father’s skill set at all.

 

A genius author and I have something in common. I’m not quite the hack that I thought I was.

Tom Perrota, author most recently of The Leftovers (which is about to become an HBO series), is a far better writer than me, but it would seem that he and I have something in common. When it comes to choosing the settings of his novels, Perrota tends to choose the locales that he is most familiar.

From a recent Wall Street Journal interview:

It's just laziness. This is what's right in front of me. I've chosen to live there. I've never been the kind of writer who goes off in search of a book.

I have often said that with all the stuff that I have to make up in order to write a novel, why would I spend time inventing a place when there are perfectly good places all around me?

As a result, all three of my novels are set within just a few miles of my home.

Is this laziness? Absolutely. But it turns out that Tom Perrota does this, too, and for essentially the same reason.

I feel like slightly less of a hack today.

Left handers rejoice! Ink smears be gone!

My friend (and fictional character), Mrs. Gosk, has a tradition of giving me a new pen at the onset of every new school year.

This year she has outdone herself, introducing me to a product that I did not know existed. 

 

To think that I could’ve spent my childhood free of the smear of ink that could always be found on the side of my left hand.  

Kids have it so good these day.

Can’t find the time to write?

When people tell me they don't have enough time to write, I tell them to throw a trashcan through the window of a bank or airport.

– Dan Kennedy, author of Rock On: An Office Power Ballad (which I recommend in audio form), American Spirit, which is sitting on my shelf, and Loser Goes First, which I just discovered while writing this post. 

  

My wife played an enormous role in my recent Moth StorySLAM victory. Here’s how.

On Tuesday night I told a story at a Moth StorySLAM at Housing Works in New York City and was fortunate enough to win.

On Facebook and Twitter, I expressed gratitude to my wife for the role she played in helping me to craft the story. A lot of people responded with  questions like “How does that work?” and “What did she do to help?” and “Did you perform for her in the living room?”

They were genuinely curious about how we collaborate on projects like this, so I thought I’d explain a little bit about how Elysha and I work.

Let me begin by saying that I am fortunate to have someone as involved in my creative life as my wife. My friend, Kim, has always said that the most important decision you will ever make in life is your choice of spouse.

She couldn’t be more correct. Not only is Elysha willing to be involved, but she is skilled and intelligent in her approach to creativity, too. So much of my success is the result of her influence on my work. 

I have won a total of 5 Moth StorySLAMs during my two years of storytelling, and Elysha has been involved in 4 of those victories (and many, many second place finishes). In one instance, she actually convinced me to change the story I was planning to tell about five hours before the show. I thought she was crazy, but she was adamant. After some moments of indecision, I took her advice and prepared an entirely different story during my lunch break.

And I won. It was probably the best story I’ve ever told.

I’ve learned to listen to m wide whenever possible.

The theme of Tuesday’s StorySLAM  was Summer. My story was about a doomed romance during the summer of 1993.

I didn’t perform the story for Elysha in the truest sense of the word because I don’t memorize my stories. They are always true stories from my own life, so I don’t worry about getting lost or mixed-up during my performance. I actually did these things, so I should damn well remember what happened.

I also like the organic nature of storytelling that comes from a story that is not memorized or overly prepared. It allows me to make adjustments on stage, pushing or pulling back on certain aspects of the story based up audience reaction. If the humor isn’t playing well, I can shift to the heart. If the audience thinks I’m hilarious, I can take some risks and push the humor even more.

In at least two instances, I found entirely different and much better endings to my stories in the midst of telling them. In one case, I returned to my seat and Elysha asked if I’d been keeping the real ending to the story a secret from her for some reason.

“No,” I said. “I found it while I was up there.”

At another non-Moth performance, I found a way of turning a sad ending into a funny one. The producer of the show, who had vetted my story beforehand and knew it well, was backstage and not really listening to my performance. When the audience erupted into laughter and I turned to leave the stage, she asked, “What happened?”

“I found a better ending,” I told her.

Had I relied on memorization, I don’t think either of these moments of unexpected discovery could’ve happened.

As a result, every time I tell a story, it sounds a little different, so performing for Elysha in the living room would be silly and unproductive.

It would make me feel silly, too.

But even without memorization, I do have some strategies to get me through the story:

• I find important transition points in stories and memorize those specific sentences so I have stepping stones to the end.
• I find moments of potential humor and try to find the funniest way of delivering those lines.
• I memorize my first 2-3 sentences of my story.
• I try to memorize my last line of my story, though that last line often changes while onstage.    

I don’t write my stories down anymore, and I don’t time them before the performance. Writing them down has become unnecessary. If I simply run through the story in my mind dozens of times and consistently hit those stepping stones, I’m much better prepared than if I had a sheet of paper in front of me.

The Moth’s 5 minute time limit stressed me out when I started telling stories, but after two years, I’ve developed an innate sense of what a 5 minute story sounds like, and since I don’t memorize the story, I can always edit the story if needed once I receive the first warning bell.

I do almost all my thinking about my stories in the shower now. It sounds crazy, but it’s where I do my best work. It takes about a week’s worth of showering to finalize my story in my mind, and only then do I tell Elysha the story, usually while I am driving.

It makes me feel less self-conscious than simply staring at her and telling the story at the kitchen table. 

But rather than telling her the story, I speak about the story aloud. I start to tell the story, usually getting through the first few lines, but then I stop in order to explain what I’m trying to achieve with a specific line or bit of detail, and I ask her to think about whether or not it’s working. Or she stops me to ask a question or comment on something. I think through my story as I tell it to her, including her on the internal debates I’ve been having over how to deliver a line, how to transition through time or space, and what to add or remove. I rarely tell her the story straight through.

Instead, I tell and we talk. Stop-and-go. Simultaneously.

Elysha doesn’t hold back. She doesn’t attempt to be gentle. She doesn’t equivocate. Her comments are often pointed and opinionated. It hurts, but it helps. It's tough medicine.

All of the work we did for Tuesday’s story was done in the car during our 3 hour drive to the city. Until we climbed into the car, she had almost no idea about the story I planned to tell.

Elysha eliminated two sections of detail in the beginning of the story that were unnecessary and slowed things down. I was overly attached to one section because it represented a bit of personal suffering, but it wasn’t needed. A woe-is-me moment. 

I thought the other section was funny. She disagreed.

Ironically, Elysha almost never laughs at any of my stories while we are working on them. Based upon her initial reactions, none of my stories are amusing in any way. She may say that something is funny, but the actual laugh does not come until I am performing onstage.

This can be disconcerting, but I’ve learned to accept it.

She also identified two key lines in the story and transformed them into stepping stones for me. One line summarized my thoughts on an issue succinctly, and she thought the other was both insightful and funny. She thought both lines were important and should not be dropped, so I committed them to memory. 

She also found the all-important last sentence of the story, which I had been struggling with all week. Much of storytelling is decision-making. What to tell and what to leave out?

In this case, the question as where to end my story.

Do I end my story here, or do I tell my audience about what happened during the following week as well? Or the following month? 

I ran through the ending several times with her, trying a variety of approaches, and when finally I hit upon the right line, she knew it immediately. “That’s it,” she said. “That’s the last line. Stop there.”

She was right.

She also identified areas where I could emphasize the theme of the night better. In truth, she tried to convince me to change my story completely. Since I spent most of my childhood summers at Boy Scout camp, she didn’t understand why I hadn’t chosen any of the dozens of stories I have from my years at Yawgoog Scout Reservation. I went so far as to tell her one of my camp stories in the car and nearly switched to it before deciding to stick to my guns and tell the story that I had prepared. 

In this case, I was right and she was wrong. This almost never happens.

These minor changes made an enormous difference in my story. They allowed me to maintain momentum onstage. They kept the story focused on only those elements that were important to the narrative. They eliminated unfunny bits that would’ve fallen flat. They kept the story under the 5 minute time limit without the need for any onstage editing.

Most important, she helped me end my story at just the right moment.

That, in considerably less than a nutshell, is how we work.

Had Elysha been here when I wrote this post, I’m sure she could’ve made it better, too.

Where do you get your ideas?

I am often asked where I get the inspiration and ideas for my stories, especially considering that I’m fortunate enough to have so many ideas from which to choose.

A few years ago I wrote a post explaining my process. Since I continue to be asked this question almost more than any other, I thought I’d update that post here. I’ve completed two more books and a short story since then, so I have more to share on the subject. 

It’s rally the kind of question that is impossible to answer with a single sentence, because I never know when I might stumble upon an idea that could make a great book. I tend to be the kind of person who asks a lot of “What if?” questions, and through these questions, many of my ideas are born.

But since that is a relatively meaningless answer, I thought I’d give you some specific examples of how some of my stories were born.

SOMETHING MISSING: Over dinner several years ago, a friend bemoaned the loss of one of her earrings. She opened her jewelry box and could only find one of the two earrings that made up the pair.

In an attempt to make her smile, I asked, “What if someone broke into your house and stole your earring but left the other one behind so you wouldn’t suspect theft?” As I gnawed on a dinner roll, I found myself trying to imagine the kind of person who would break into every home in America and steal just one earring from every woman’s jewelry box.

Although I didn’t know it at the time, that was the moment that Martin Railsback and his story were born.

UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO:  For a long time, I wanted to be a film director.  At one point I had the idea for a movie in which three less-than-savory characters steal a video camera from a family on vacation in New York City.  After watching the videotapes in the privacy of their cockroach-infested apartment, the trio realizes that the memories captured on the videotape mean more to the family than they could have ever imagined, and they decide to return the tapes to their owners. They watch the footage in order to glean clues as to the owner’s identity, and in doing so, they become uncommonly attached to the family as a result. This idea served as the basis for UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO.

However, I also dipped into my own life for major pieces of the plot, including:

The separation and divorce from my first wife in 2003.

The two months spent in fourth grade helping a friend plan his escape to an uncle’s house in the Midwest. Chris wanted to run away from home, something he had done before, and though he never made the journey that we planned in the back of the classroom, I often wondered what might’ve happened if Chris had run away from home and had disappeared in the process. How would I have felt knowing that I had a hand in my friend’s disappearance, and how might that have impacted the rest of my life?

This became a major plot point in the story.

CHICKEN SHACK (an unpublished manuscript): There was once a potato chip factory in my hometown of Blackstone, Massachusetts that produced a brand of potato chips called Blackstone Potato Chips. The factory closed years ago, and on a trip back to Blackstone, I noted that the factory was now a funeral home. “Wouldn’t it be great if they still sold potato chips and embalmed dead people at the same time?” I said to my wife as we drove by. A moment later, the idea of a funeral home that also sells fried chicken landed in my mind and CHICKEN SHACK was  born.

Once again, I dipped into my own personal life for other key elements to the story, including:

The disappearance of my brother, Jeremy, who I had not seen for more than five years after my mother died.

A public, and in the words of many attorneys and law enforcement officers, unprecedented attack on my character and reputation by an anonymous source several years ago.

My occasional forays into amusing and ultimately meaningless forms of vigilante justice, mostly as a teenager but occasionally as an adult.

MEMOIRS OF AN IMAGINARY FRIEND:  This book began with a simple conversation with my student-teacher about an imaginary friend that I had as a child. In the span of about four sentences, the idea for Budo and his story was born.

I also managed to take advantage of my experience with autistic children when writing my book, and on an unconscious level, my constant, persistent existential crisis became a key element in the story as well. 

THE PERFECT COMEBACK OF CAROLINE JACOBS: My next book began with a conversation that my wife and I had in bed one night. We were talking about her childhood home, and she told me about something cruel that a friend had said to her during a sleepover.

“Wouldn’t it be great if you could find that girl today and finally tell her off?” I asked.

Just like that, the book was born. 

My next book is the story of a woman who suffered at the hands of a bully in high school, and much later in life, decides to finally do something about it. I used some of the bullying and hazing that I experienced in high school as inspiration, but most of the story was born from that simple question asked to my wife while lying in bed one night.    

BETTY BOOP:  The idea for this manuscript, which I am still tinkering with on the side, was born after reading about a 2009 law outlawing prostitution in the state of Rhode Island.  Prostitution was actually legal in Rhode Island between 1980 and 2009 because there was no specific statute to define the act and outlaw it, although associated activities, such as street solicitation, running a brothel, and pimping, were still illegal. With the passing of the 2009 law banning prostitution, I found myself wondering what a prostitute in Rhode Island might do now that his or her previously legal means of earning a living were suddenly forbidden. I came up with an solution for my theoretical prostitute, and that is the basis for this book.

Farewell to Arms: I recently wrote a short story that is currently under submission to several literary journals. It is an uncharacteristically dark story of an armless soccer team.

It was written on a dare.

Someone at work commented that soccer is so popular around the world because you don't need anything to play. Even a crumbled-up bit of newspaper can serve as a ball.

"You don't even need arms," I said. "That would be a story. Huh? A soccer team with no arms."

"Even you couldn't write that story," my friend said. 

I took up the challenge and wrote the story in three days.

The friends who have read the story like it a lot. I’m waiting to see if the literary magazines agree. 

Writers are lucky. Not special.

It’s always fun to act self-important, grandiose, battle tested and imposed upon, but Ray Bradbury was right.

Writing is not a serious business. It’s a joy and a celebration. You should be having fun with it. Ignore the authors who say ‘Oh, my God, what word? Oh, Jesus Christ…’, you know. Now, to hell with that. It’s not work. If it’s work, stop and do something else.

The two best pieces of writing advice that Roger Ebert ever received

I’m listening to Roger Ebert’s memoir and loving every minute of it.

 

The two best pieces of writing advice that he was ever given (forgive me for forgetting the source) is advice that I can get behind wholeheartedly.

1. Don't wait for inspiration. Just start the damn thing. 
2. Once you begin keep on until the end. How are you supposed to know where to begin until you see where the story is going?

Ebert was known for being one of the fastest and more prolific writers in the business, but he contended that he was no faster than anyone else.

“I just spend less time not writing.”

I try to live my life by this principle.

I wrote a poem. I need a critique. Please help.

I wrote a poem about my son today. I’ve been working on it for three days, including about an hour this morning. I’m ready to hear what people think.

Suggestions?

The second line was especially troubling for me (I’ve written it about three dozen ways), as was the transition from the second line into the third line.

I also need a title.  I have many options. I like none of them.

______________________________________

Untitled

Watching my baby boy crawl across the polished kitchen floor,
low to the ground like a Marine traversing a field of barbed wire, 
thinking he’s making his way to me,
his Daddy. 
only to realize that his target
was the rogue Cheerio
on the floor beside my sneaker.

I was supposed to be writing…

…but fifteen minutes after my wife left for the park with the kids, I abandoned the laptop and followed.

Yes, I failed to meet my daily writing goal.
Yes, there is still work to be done on my manuscript.
Yes, the problems with the manuscript still plague me.

But as you can see, it was worth it.

       

Kid words for future characters

I keep a list of all the invented and divergent words and phrases that my daughter uses in hopes of sprinkling these gems into future dialogue.

Two that I recently added to the list are pancholeen and last day.

Panchleen is the word that Clara uses for trampoline.

Last day is the phrase she uses for any day prior to today. Without a good understanding of time, any day before today is last day.

I love this phrase. I’ll be so sad when she stops using it.

Done.

When my wife doesn’t like something I’ve written, she tilts her head, squints her eyes and rereads, as if doing so will make it look better.

I fear that look. I despise that look.

But it also forces me to do things like rewrite the last two chapters of my current manuscript, thus changing the ending completely.

For the better.

The book is done. The first draft, at least. And a good draft, too. It needs work, but it’s complete.

My fifth novel. The Perfect Comeback of Caroline Jacobs.

The birth of Something Missing: Aimee Mann's theory on creativity matches my own perfectly

On a recent podcast, musician Aimee Mann said, “Being stuck in one place and bored out of your mind is the key to creativity.” I couldn’t agree more.

My writing career only began because I was bored out of my mind as well.

It was February of 2005. My wife and I were spending a week in Boca Raton, Florida with her then 87 year-old grandmother. Much of our trip consisted of breakfast and lunch at the club and dinner at a restaurant somewhere in town.

Halfway through the trip, Nana left us for the evening. She had a date with a man named Joe and an opera class at the local college, which left us home alone and without a car. After days without Internet access or cable television service and nothing left to read, I found myself in a desperate search for something to keep me busy.

The previous November, my then-fiancée and I were having dinner with our close friends, Charles and Justine. During the course of the meal, Justine mentioned that she had lost an earring earlier that day and was hoping to find it when they returned home. I asked Justine how she knew that the earring had been misplaced. “Perhaps some clever thief came to your house and stole just one earring, so that you wouldn’t suspect theft.”

The idea of a thief who only steals items that go unnoticed lodged itself in my mind, and when I arrived home later that night, I jotted down the idea on my ever-growing list of possible story ideas.

The idea was still stuck in my mind while pacing around Nana’s home three months later, but I had no story. Just the idea for a character. Nevertheless, boredom defeated my belief that I had to outline any story that I was going to write, so with nothing but an idea for a character, I started writing.

I wasn’t sure if it would be a short story or something longer, but by the time the trip was done, the first three chapters of the novel were complete and I was well on my way.

When I began the book, I had no idea where the story might take me,. I simply began connecting sentences together and waited to see what might happen. This is a method of writing that no one had told me about during my time at college. Despite attaining a degree in English with a creative writing concentration, my professors had always taught me to outline before writing. Create character sketches. Research. Plan.

I’ve since learned to embrace the unknown and allow the story to come to me. Stephen King calls this “unearthing the fossil,” though I wouldn’t hear this expression until the book was nearly finished. I’ve also learned that about half of all fiction writers write this way.

Ten years go, this would have sounded like nonsense to me, but now I believe it with all my heart. There were many moments in the writing of Something Missing when I literally did not know what would happen next until I wrote it, and the same has held true for my subsequent novels.

In fact, as I writing the final chapters of Something Missing, I still didn’t know what my main character’s ultimate fate would be. I was writing the section of a chapter in which much of the plot would be resolved when my wife called.

“I can’t talk. I’m about to find out what happens to Martin.”

“Really,” she said. “What happens?”

“I don’t know! I’m still writing it!”

If you are reading this chapter someday, remember that I experienced it just like a reader would: One word at a time.

Though many authors know exactly where their stories will ultimately go, I do not, and I’ve learned to trust this instinct. I start with character. I find a person who interests me, and then, in a vomit-provoking, disgustingly spiritual, earthy-crunchy way, I assume that the plot is already written in the character’s fate.

Once I’ve found the character, his or her fate is sealed. I just have to unearth it.

But it’s true. I’d been trying to start a novel for more than five years before beginning Something Missing, but each time, I thought that I needed to plan the story from beginning to end before starting to write. While many writers work this way, I have found that I am better off beginning with a glimmer of an idea and discovering the rest along the way. I leave the story to fate, and things have seemed to work out so far.

I like to tell this story because I worry that too many writers sit around, waiting for their one great idea to emerge, when that idea might already exist, waiting to be unearthed.

So if you’re waiting for the next great novel idea to reveal itself to you, why not pick up a pen and starting writing while you wait?

As for my, I’m eternally grateful that even at the age of 87, Nana was still driving, dating and taking classes. Like Aimee Mann, I needed to be stuck in one place and bored out of my mind for my creative process to finally reveal itself to me. Nana unwittingly provided me with just that when she left me at home that night.

She’s 92 today and little has changed. On Sunday night she was sitting in the audience at The Moth’s GrandSLAM, chatting with hipsters from Brooklyn while waiting to hear me tell my story.

I have friends in their thirties who tell me that they can’t stay up that late.

The Matthew Dicks Pre-Obituary Contest (including fabulous prizes for the winner)

Slate recently named the obituary of Harry Weathersby Stamps as their current leader for obituary of the year. Excerpts from this incredible obituary (though you really should read the obituary in its entirety) include:

Harry Weathersby Stamps, ladies' man, foodie, natty dresser, and accomplished traveler, died on Saturday, March 9, 2013.

As a former government and sociology professor for Gulf Coast Community College, Harry was thoroughly interested in politics and religion and enjoyed watching politicians act like preachers and preachers act like politicians. He was fond of saying a phrase he coined 'I am not running for political office or trying to get married' when he was 'speaking the truth.' He also took pride in his service during the Korean conflict, serving the rank of corporal—just like Napolean, as he would say.

He despised phonies, his 1969 Volvo (which he also loved), know-it-all Yankees, Southerners who used the words 'veranda' and 'porte cochere' to put on airs, eating grape leaves, Law and Order (all franchises), cats, and Martha Stewart. In reverse order. He particularly hated Day Light Saving Time, which he referred to as The Devil's Time. It is not lost on his family that he died the very day that he would have had to spring his clock forward. This can only be viewed as his final protest.

While I have no intention of ever dying, I was also a Boy Scout for many years and believe in being prepared. After reading Stamps obituary, I decided that part of being prepared for the unlikelihood of death should be to have an obituary as unique and entertaining as his already written in the event of my improbable demise.

The idea of writing an obituary before the subject is deceased is nothing new. Newspapers often have obituaries prepared ahead of time, so why not have your own obituary ready as well? I’ve always felt bad for the dead person who never has the opportunity to hear the accolades expressed after his or her untimely death.

The same goes for the obituary. Harry Weathersby Stamps never had the opportunity to read this remarkable obituary before his death.

What a damn shame.

This is what makes Tom Sawyer one of my heroes. The boy faked his own death and attended his own funeral. Brilliant!

But writing my own obituary seems slightly uncouth. Self congratulatory. Possibly narcissistic.

At the very least, biased. 

So what I’m proposing, dear reader, is that you take a stab at writing my obituary for me. I’m not looking for a standard obit but something that is unique, entertaining, memorable and possibly amusing.

A Harry Weathersby Stamps kind of obituary.

I’d like it to capture the essence of who I am (or who you think I am) while also remaining truthful and sincere.

Of course, there will be a prize for the obituary that I like the best. While I’m not in the position to offer any sizeable cash reward, I’ve attempted to assemble a prize package that will make this endeavor worth your time.

It includes:

• Signed copies of all three of my books plus a signed galley of my next book when it is available.
• Your name or a name of your choice (within reason) to be used in my next book as the name of a minor character.
• Publication of your obituary on this blog and possibly in a newspaper someday in the unlikely event that I die.

I’m also willing to negotiate this prize package, so if you have a suggestion for something else that I should offer, let me know.

Also, if you are in need of any biographical data for the completion of the obituary, just ask. The obituary will be judged on originality, entertainment value and its ability to capture the essence of who I am, but accuracy is important, too. That said, names and dates can always be added in later if necessary. I’m not as worried about you getting my birthday correct as I am about your ability to make this obituary one that people will enjoy and remember for a long time. 

Good luck!