Tag Archives: #writing

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When Two Authors Under the Same Roof, Get an Idea…

*I’m borrowing this entry from one of our other blogs (The Musings of Two Creative Minds) because what happened here involves our own dear Nathan was heavily involved in this situation. And it gives you a little hint of a story that will be appearing in the next anthology book “Two for the Road”, which will contain a number of tales some familiar from this blog, along with some brand new stories including the one being discussed here. I have hopes that this anthology will be appearing later this year, but we’ll see what happens. Both Helen and I have got a number of irons in the fire, including turning “The Vampyre Blogs – Coming Home” into an audiobook. Wish us luck and enjoy this peek into our creative processes….

The Pondering Pug’s Thought of the

Day:

What happens when two authors, who are married to each other, get the same type of idea for a short story for their respective book series?

Funny, that this pup should be asking that question, because it happened to Helen and me just recently.

As you all know I created a vampire (or as I call him a ‘vampyre’ since he’s not a true undead being, but more of a science fiction-based blood drinking, shape-shifting, sun avoiding being) named Nathan Steward. For those who aren’t familiar with him here’s a brief synopsis. Nathan was a Union soldier in the Civil War who got blown into a Para-Earth where one of the life forms there fused itself to him, creating a symbiotic bond that allows them to coexist as one. This symbiotic arrangement has also extended Nathan’s life far beyond that of a normal human being, which means he has existed for over 160 years. This has allowed him to see and be a part of a lot of history. 

Then about 2 2 1/2 years ago, Helen created Rafael Jones, star of her “The Forever Detective Series”.  Set in New York City in 1947 and told from Rafael’s point of view, we quickly we learn he was a police officer, who wanted to serve his country during World War II. Unfortunately, because of his police training he was assigned to MP duty, but later became an investigator gathering evidence for the Nuremberg trials. In the first book “Forever’s Too Long” he has come back to NYC and is opening his own private detective business. In his first 2 cases which become one, he learns that supernatural beings do actually exist, in this case in the form of vampires. As the case progresses, he winds up getting killed and turned into a vampire himself. Yet upon rising he has managed to hold onto his humanity and goes after the vampires responsible for his death, who are also going after a close friend of his. 

From there, the series continues with Rafael learning to adjust to his new existence, while keeping his private investigation business going. In his next cases, he encounters more supernatural beings such as ghosts, kelpies, and those gifted with magic such as mediums, witches, wizards, as well as other beings such as ghosts, kelpies, dryads, and many others. 

Recently, she added a spinoff group of books centering around some of these other folk, focusing on some adventures of their own that do not involve Rafael. Some of these tales take place before and during World War II. 

Well so do a number of my stories with Nathan…

So, I recently had been asking myself what kind of story can I come up with for Nathan during World War I? I had recently been listening to podcasts that told stories of the United States getting hit with sabotage for supplying war materials like weapons and ammunition to England, before we actually entered the war. And two of the cases took place in New York and New Jersey, which was where Nathan was working backstage at vaudeville palaces. So he’d be aware of these incidents, and I could get him involved helping the government by catching a ship headed to England. Now this was during the time of submarine warfare which meant I could easily put him in conflict with a German U-boat to save the ship he was traveling on.

Now I knew Helen had been working on a U-boat story set in WWII for a second anthology in her spinoff series “W. I. T. C. H. Hunters Forever”. However, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever get around to finishing the anthology. And since my story took place in WWI, I didn’t think there would be a problem. So, I got the story well under way before telling Helen about it. She thought it sounded interesting, but then pointed out it might be too similar to the story she had been working on. After much discussion she told me to go ahead with mine and she would drop hers. Now I could tell she was disappointed, but since she insisted, I kept working on mine.

But being the diligent little writer that I am, I wanted to see what the interior of a WWI U-boat was like, and boy was I in for a surprise…

As you can see, this barely had enough room for maybe 10 people. And not a lot of places to hide, which was what I needed for some of the plans I had for Nathan’s activities. I had been envisioning the much bigger and more complex U-boats of WWII. I needed a vessel much bigger than this, with a lot more places to hide and lurk between his acts of sabotage. So, what could I use instead?

Then a memory from my childhood came to me…

Zeppelins! I got fascinated with them after seeing a film showing the destruction of the Hindenburg in 1937. But when I read up on them, I discovered they had been used in WWI to bomb England and other countries at a time where they could achieve heights most biplanes couldn’t. Of course, this changed over time as the war dragged on, but for several years, the Zeppelins were the scourge of the night sky, quietly floating over unsuspecting towns and cities. 

They of course could travel over water as well, which meant they could and did occasionally target ships in the waters below.

And after seeing a cut-away diagram like this one…

I knew I had the answer to both our problems. So, I quickly set about reworking the U-boat story I had going and turned it into Nathan ‘haunting’ a Zeppelin instead. Naturally, I informed Helen that the U-boat story was hers, once more, and explained why I changed my mind. I’m pleased to tell you that she was delighted by this turn of events. Especially, as she told me afterwards, she hadn’t really wanted to give up the story she’d had planned because it was such a good one. Which it is! Trust me. But you’ll have to wait for the next anthology book in her series to read it.

And by the same token, you’ll have wait for the next Vampyre Blogs anthology, to read my zeppelin story as well. But it may show up later this year or definitely next year at the latest.

However, I just wanted to share with you what can happen when you have to very creative minds living under the same roof. Sometimes, you both might come up with similar ideas, but there are ways around such situations, to avoid having readers possibly wind up comparing who did a better job on their story.

Researching source material for your setting can make or break a writing project. So make sure you’re diligent, especially if you’re writing about historical events.

Until next time, stay safe and keep writing everyone!

PS: If you enjoyed the Pondering Pug concept, do let us know. We’ll be happy to continue having the pug occasionally show up on the blog with new thoughts and questions to explore. Besides, he is so darn cute!

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Nathaniel’s E-Journal May 2007 – I’m Now A Published Author

As I sit here typing my mind is still in a whirl.  The idea that something I’ve written is actually getting published seems unreal.  Then again a lot of things I’ve done in my long life feel that way.

The first time I stepped out onto a stage in vaudeville to play a part in one of the Marx Brothers routines I felt the same way.  I’d been helping out in their rehearsals and knew the routine by heart, so when Gummo wasn’t able to appear with his brothers one night, I was drafted then and there.  I’m proud to say that I did not suffer stage fright, but that was mostly because I had Julius, Arthur and Leonard with me.  I knew they had my back and I wasn’t about to let them down.  In a way, it was like being back in the Union Army, where I knew I had a bunch of guys watching out for me just as much as I was keeping an eye out for them.  When we finished our routine they made sure I took a bow with them.  After that I started finding myself on stage a number of times with some of the other acts who knew me pretty well.


But I digress.  As my second semester taking writing classes was drawing to a close, one of my instructors urged me to try and submit a few of my short stories to a few magazines for publication.  This was in March and I trusted my instructor’s judgement and with their help I prepared a cover letter, synopsis and a sample of one of my stories.  Needless to say the results were pretty much what I half expected…

Not to say I wasn’t a little hurt, but my instructor was like, “Good, now you’re really on your way to being an author.”  Needless to say I gave her a very curious look, but nodded and kept trying.  Within weeks the responses, or rather more rejections, came rolling in…

Yet in spite of this, Brian, his family, fellow students, and even other members of the English and Literature faculty kept urging me on.  So I kept at it.  Finally, yesterday, I got a response from of all magazines Playboy, who wanted to publish one of my stories. It was one I submitted on a whim to their college fiction contest last year.  I didn’t win mind you, but one of the editors kept it on file because he thought it was really good.  


In any case, somehow they were looking to fill space and he remembered my story and contacted me saying they wanted to run it.  Naturally I said yes so next month, my first published short story will be coming out in Playboy Magazine.  I’m hoping the readers like it, or at least those who read Playboy for the articles, all of two of them.


Still, to have my first published story appear in a magazine of that caliber is an honor.  I’m hoping it will help springboard me into other publications or at least get my name out there.  Or rather my pseudonym Daniel Bachmann.  Bachmann was my mother’s maiden name and Daniel was my grandfather’s name.   Too many people out there know or heard of Nathaniel Steward over the last few decades who don’t know my secret.  So a fake name just seemed more appropriate on this occasion.


So my first published work will be sandwiched somewhere in between naked women and… now I’m jealous.  Time to head out and enjoy some nightlife.  I hear there’s plenty of great places here in London, and the lights at night are beautiful.  Who knows, I might get an idea for a few more stories.  Yup… I’m a writer all right.  Always thinking about the next tale.

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Nathaniel’s E-Journal, August 2005… Beginning A New Chapter Part-II

Another night and I stand once more in my artist’s studio located on the top floor of the building that houses my club “The Crypt”.  No one’s allowed up here unless I say so, and tonight I wish to be alone with my thoughts.  For two days now I’ve been wrestling with the idea of trying my hand at writing novels.  

 
In some ways the idea seems ridiculous.  Me? An author?  


Then another question comes to mind in the form of one word, why?


That’s the sticking point for me.  Why would I take up writing?  Because I’m bored and want to try something new that I’ve never done before?   It wouldn’t be the first time.  When I joined vaudeville, it was simply to keep myself busy and working behind the scenes as a stagehand at night seemed ideal.  But then I started to get to know the performers like Julius, Arthur, Herbert and Leonard… better known as the Marx Brothers.  Their range of talents fascinated me.  The number of instruments they could play, or the snappy patter they should spout on a moments notice never ceased to amaze me.  Plus, they seemed to sense the feeling of being ‘lost’ and ‘adrift’ in me, which made them reach out so I could be a part of their comeraderie.  But it didn’t stop there.  Others in the troupe welcomed me as well, like “Fatty” (Roscoe Arbuckle), the Keatons, Harry and Bess Houdini, the lovely and sweet Mae West and so many others…

Before I knew what was happening they’d be teaching me all kinds of skills and even dragging me out on stage to help out in their acts.  I could write endless stories about those days and the ones that came before.  


My days on the battlefield while serving in the Union Army.  So many stories were lost there that only I know about.  The hopes and fears of my brothers in blue, as well as some of those who wore the rebel gray.  In 167 years of walking this world, I’ve not forgotten a single person who I’ve met, good or bad, I remember them.  I also remember the stories they shared, the sweethearts they pursued and the outcomes.  


So many stories to choose from, but where would I begin?  


I brought up the idea of my taking up writing to Brian and his family last night at dinner.  Much to my surprise no one laughed.  Instead they eagerly supported the venture.  Brian in particular urged me to take a couple of creative writing courses at the college where he teaches history.  “We’ve got some really good instructors there and they could really help you hone your skills?” Brian pointed out.  “I’ve taken a couple of them and they were really helpful.  Of course, you’ll need to decide on a genre to write in.  Agents and publishers like to represent someone who has a specific kind of novel.”


“You should write romance,” his daughter Lisa suggested with a twinkle in her eye as she looked at me.  Even though she’s only a child I have a feeling she’s developing a crush on me.  I’ve seen that look before in girls her age and even younger, over the decades.  But only one ever managed to land me, but she was extremely persistent.  


Even now I can feel her eyes on me after seven decades.  Looking up I find myself staring into a pair of dark eyes, forever captured in oil.  Dark hair frames those eyes along with the lovely face and strong chin.  “Magda,” I whisper and smile.


Our time together was not nearly as long as either of us had hoped, but it was magical.  Our first meeting and her prolonged pursuit for my love could fill several volumes.  Her persistence paid off and after three years she became my wife at the young age of sixteen.  


As I stand there lost in thought, the sounds of music reaches my ears from several floors below.  The Crypt is now open and is already filling up with the usual crowd.  Even from here I can sense the whirl of emotions and life down there.  Laughter, sorrow, broken hearts, lust, hopes for love…  


A flash of light through the window catches my eye.  After several nights of gathering clouds it looks as rain is finally drawing near.  I make my way up the stairs and onto the roof of the building to watch the approaching storm.

I see lightning in the distance over my hometown, it’s going to be a good one.  But instead of retreating back inside, I stay where I am and feel the breeze on my face and close my eyes.  I can feel the storm’s energy on the wind and without thinking, several lines of words describing the feeling come to mind.  Some of the words are trite, but they still help paint a picture within my head.

Suddenly my eyes shoot open as realization sinks in.  Painting a picture, but with words instead of oils or acrylics!   No pencils, no paintbrushes, just words that form an image or a scene within the readers mind.  That’s what an author does. But they don’t just paint one picture, they paint a whole series of images, coupled with emotions and thoughts.  Yet, I can still use my skills as a painter as well.  Illustrations and book covers… yes.  


And I have so much material to draw upon.  My own experiences as well as those of people who’s memories lives I keep alive within me.  I’ve shared their stories countless times with descendants so they are never forgotten.  


But what kind of stories to write? 


From down in the alley I hear the sound of raised voices.  Looking over the edge I see a young couple having a heated argument.  The boy is obviously breaking up with the girl and leaves her in the alley alone.  But she does not remain that way for long.  Three others, friends of hers arrive and comfort her.  One of them is a young man who obviously has feelings of his own for her.  But instead of being foolish and declaring his affections, he merely gives her the support and comfort of the friend she needs right now.  


But I can sense a change in her.  It’s not big, but her gratitude to him and the two girls with him is obvious.  I hear her say she wishes more guys were like him as they step inside.  Perhaps something will come of it eventually.  


However the thing that gets me most is the image that forms in my mind.  Just like the other night down in the club, I could see other figures, superimposed over the trio.  Their outfits changed several times within the span of a few seconds.  I saw flappers, soldiers, suits, gowns, hippies, but their actions were all the same and leading towards one thing… romance.


“Love Across Time…” I murmur as the first drops of rain start hitting my head.  


Why not?  I’ve seen and experienced it so many times in the last fifteen decades.  Oh, the settings and ways one behaved have changed over time, but the feelings never do.  


Feeling elated at the idea, I spread my arms wide and let the rain and story ideas pour over me.