My wife suggested that I get a souvenir to celebrate the Rams making it to Super Bowl LIII. I told her I would wait until after the game since I already had Rams shirts to wear. I figured if the Rams won, I would rather get the World Champions gear. If they lost, I could pick up their stuff for half-price.
The Rams lost, and I was right: they had Rams stuff for half-price.
But why would I buy the jersey of the losing team? Specifically, why would I wear Jared Goff’s when he struggled during the game? (And yes, I know the Rams didn’t wear that style of uniform in the Super Bowl.) Why would I break my own rule about buying a sports jersey when players get traded, teams move, and designs change?
Because the Rams’ loss in Super Bowl LIII reflects what I believe about achievement.
My family is preparing for Valentine’s Day. My granddaughter has her L.O.L. Surprise valentines ready to hand out to her classmates. I’m sure our children are planning romantic evenings for their significant others. My wife and I will do something special. And we all look forward to February 15 when Valentine’s Day candy is on sale for half-price.
I must admit this Valentine’s Day has been hard for me. I know what this day also represents. But how do you tell your family you are mourning for people you never met who were killed on the other side of the country?
I consider myself a cubicle author because work plays a role in every novel I’ve written. The same is true for Snow in Los Angeles, although it takes place in a bakery instead of an office. There is a genre for such writing, occupational fiction. However, most publishers and agents don’t look for it, submission websites don’t have an option for it, bookstores don’t have a shelf dedicated to it, and readers don’t know it exists.
I’d like to make a case for occupational fiction. Our readers want to be told they have value. They don’t have to look for it by escaping to some magical land or through superheroes with unlimited powers. They can find it in the world we live in and in the things we do daily. Here’s how we can do it through occupational fiction.
A question that often comes up among new writers on Twitter is, “Is there a right way to write a novel? Is it better to be a planner (who develops the structure and characters before writing) or a pantser (just start writing and develop the story as you go along)? How much backstory should you give a character? Is it better to start at the beginning or create the ending and work backwards?” They want to know if there is a methodology for writing a novel.
Methodology is important in my job as a technical writer because we have to work with a variety of teams to ensure accurate documentation. In fact, I maintain a help system with 175 topics just to describe how to tag and generate documentation with DITA. When it comes to my fiction writing, my process is more nebulous. Here’s why.
During Fun A Day Reseda 2019, I’ll take breaks from writing my new novel, Snow in Los Angeles, to share with you themes and other insights from writing this book.
My mom would have turned 90 on Thursday. She was a teenager during World War II. She told me stories about what it was like to grow up in the Fairfax District during that time.
Those stories inspired me to write Snow in Los Angeles. As I write, I need to reconnect with her world and figure out how to share it with a 21st century audience. Here are some things that stood out to me.