The Lion Tracker’s Guide to Life sat in my Amazon wishlist queue (fodder for another post) for a few years. I had heard the author, Boyd Varty on a lesser known podcast, put it on the wishlist but never purchased. Like many items in my wishlist, I forgot why it appealed to me. More recently, Boyd was on the Tim Ferriss show and I bought the book.

The first remarkable thing about the book is the size. It’s small, maybe only 3/4 the size of a regular book (5X7”, compared to the standard hardcover at 6X9”). And short at only 130 pages with generous spacing. I read it over three days, but one can read it cover to cover in a good afternoon. Interspersed are hand-drawn renderings of jungle animals and tracks, along with hand-written captions. Lion Tracker feels like a labor of love, something put together out of desire and need rather than commercial success. Unlike many books from well-known authors who drag one idea or concept out for 300 pages when a 2000 word web post would suffice.

Varty uses a classic device for the book. He describes, in loving detail, aspects of a track with two expert trackers. As different things happen along the trail, Varty reflects on how those lessons translate to his life. As an author, I enjoyed his seamless transition between telling the exciting and engaging story of the track with his larger life lessons. The track and his emotional journey crescendoed at the same point. One of my other favorite books, Born to Run, follows a similar path (a running race with the Tarahumara of Mexico – McDougall uses it to tell the story of natural running, the shoe industry, etc.). But Varty never wanders too far from the tracking story and keeps the reader engaged.

The two expert trackers in the story, Renias and Alex, are larger than life. Much like how a fiction author needs to create a backstory and pick scenes and dialogue to create a character, Varty gives his these two men a similar treatment. Renias is the wise leader with generations of tracker blood and knowledge. We learn his backstory but see his qualities as he actively tracks. It creates a vivid image of the two men. Varty’s respect and admiration for the two and of their profession is clear.

The Lion Tracker’s Guide to Life reminded me of another book, Death in the Tall Grass, also about tracking animals in the African jungle… yet wildly different. Death in the Tall Grass was about a big-game hunter as he tracks and kills different now-protected game, like lions and tigers and leopards. Tall Grass reflected a different age with different morals, and the authors are certainly very different. But they both lovingly and reverentially describe a world of the jungle and its inhabitants.

The Lion Tracker’s Guide to Life is a quick and engaging read. I thought about it long after I put it down. Varty tells a compact story with just enough background and exposition to hook the reader. I’d read only the active tracker story by itself. One of my favorite books of the last few years.

Noticing how stories work is like developing a nose for wine. When I first started drinking wine, I didn’t know how to describe the taste. Then, I learned about the finish (the last taste in your mouth), how to taste the sweetness, body, mouthfeel, smell. And recognized how my earlier meal or drink affected my taste and appreciation of the wine.

This allowed me to talk about wine to people in wine shops and sommeliers. When asked, I can tell them what we will eat with the wine, previous likes and dislikes, and characteristics that are show stoppers (dry wine with a less-than-smooth finish). I can describe what I prefer and why (Pinot grapes, smooth finish, not too sweet).

When I read the first few pages of Neon Leviathan, I couldn’t believe how different the writing seemed. Like wine, what I consumed previously mattered. As part of A Swim in the Pond in the Rain and accompanying online class, we read selections of the Russian masters and Hemingway. Prior, I read Murakami… literature. And, like having a drier wine after a sweeter one, Neon Leviathan seemed rough. For example, T.R. Napper commits a Scribophile sin of epic proportions; he tells instead of shows (gasp)

“Mister Nguyen… looking down at her with a studied grimness. Lynn stifled a sigh at the posturing.”

I can imagine the comments and redlines from my co-amateur editors for “studied grimness”. But… what is the objection? The mantra of show don’t tell is universally repeated, but I can picture Mister Nguyen and how he looked at Lynn (we learned earlier he was an older, fat, old-school crime boss). Can’t you see the how he looks at her? As I read, I constantly found lines and approaches that set off alarm bells… but they worked. In the correct context.

“Matter-of-factly, Eulalie said…”

Another example. This was from a tense exchange between a new employee and her boss. Another cardinal rule from the literature world is only to describe speaking with “said”, “asked” or “shouted”. But I can hear exactly how someone sounds in a matter-of-factly voice. Used sparingly, it enhances the visualization and reading experience.

You doesn’t need a deep knowledge of wine or understand its vocabulary to enjoy a nice Willamette Pinot Noir. But it helps when trying to find the right wine. Same with reading. I’ve struggled lately with finding the right writing style. If nothing else, I’m better at identifying what makes genre vs literature, or when the two overlap (Atwood, etc.). Which should help with submissions to publications.

*I enjoyed Neon Leviathan. Cool characters, good sense of the world, fun read.

What type writer am I? I can’t be a schlocky, low-quality pulpy guy or a literary writer, because of a lack of training, interests and personality. I have come back to the Hugh Howey space… interesting genre stories with subtle themes and messages. My head’s had gotten so twisted and turned, through experimentation with different writing and types of writing and endless advice that I lost sight of who I am.

The first two stories I wrote and published followed this idea. Unfair Advantage is a modern-realist story about fighting back and The Inspector’s Legacy is a post-apocalyptic story about making a tough choices. Hugh Howey’s writing, and his comments and thoughts on writing… he’s doing what I want to accomplish. His writing isn’t George Saunders or Margaret Atwood and his internal dialogue makes me wince. But he tells a compelling story with interesting characters. And he subtly infused the stories with themes and political opinions.

So where does this leave me? I’m having trouble finding a home for my completed stories (3 different pieces out to different publications). And I need to acknowledge where I am and what I can do, namely short genre stories. Which means I don’t have to adhere to all of literary writing’s rules… maybe an adverb or two isn’t the worst thing in the world. Make the stories and characters interesting, give them problems to overcome. And work on a set of stories in the same universe, much like David Mitchell. Have characters and world rules cross. Have a particular theme or idea for each story.

This path is warm and inviting. A collection of short stories. The stories will hang together… and each story can reveal a little more about the world, but still be a self-contained story.

And I’ll write it because I want to read it.

I completed the first draft of Unfair Advantage 2. I wanted then work on smaller contests, namely this Irish one. Sadly, all the stories fizzled. I’ve attempted multiple stories but nothing stuck. With the Irish flash fiction, I keep coming up with either vignettes or pieces that are literary for the (contest) theme of Time. They specifically reference how Time can fit in any genre. Genre, exactly the thing I’m looking for, and all I can do is generate these slices that seem like they came out of an MFA program. Which is a tremendous shame… I would really love to have a good idea and iterate on the 500 words. So much of my reluctance to edit is the size of what I work on… even 3k words seem like a tough edit. 500 words is perfect for cutting everything that doesn’t directly contribute to the story, working each to sound lyrical. I just need that spark!

And if I could find that story idea, I’ll incorporate the ideas on editing from George Saunders and the amazing A Swim in the Pond in the Rain. I’ll do a series of posts specifically on this book, but he counsel on editing is fantastic. Keep reading and working on your story over weeks and months. Remove anything that doesn’t move the story forward or display something important about the characters. It’s the repeated process of editing and considering, re-reading and changing that creates something worthwhile. And he doesn’t prescribe rules or a list of don’ts. This advice struck a chord; dozens of micro-edits over time allow a writer to create a voice. Compare this with other books on editing and their rigid rules. More on Saunders later.

This leaves me in a tough spot with the normal backlog of pieces to edit and nothing solid to work on for my daily 500 words. In theory, I’d love to have a set of drills or practice items to work on, then spend the rest of my morning writing time on editing and re-reading. I’ll keep looking.

Based on the Now pages popularized by Derek Sivers , I have a page on this site updated weekly with bits about my current work and what I’m reading. Check it out!

p.s. — it’s been here the whole time, I’ve never called it out explicitly.

No post last week while I was away with friends in West Palm Beach. I was curious how travel and a change in routine would effect my writing, mindset and creativity. I enjoyed the change and had a good time, but it wasn’t conducive to writing… sharing a hotel room, group schedules, etc. My current WIP (Unfair Advantage 2, more on this below) is set in Palm Beach and I hoped to catch some inspiration. But nothing really caught my eye… the only thing I noticed was how weird the denizens of one of the richest places in America are, with the conspicuous consumption and plastic surgery.

A few rejections from journals rolled in, including one for The Valley, my story about a prepper family living in post-apocalyptic Hudson Valley. I wrote it with New Maps in mind, but they had rejected it as too slow (ironic because I wrote it that way for them. Live and learn). I tried to incorporate the editor’s feedback about speeding the story, but struggled. There aren’t many options for an over 8k piece, which (as I know now) is a gray area and tough to publish. I’ll try a few more spots, then either make the revisions the editor asked for or publish it here instead.

I also got tough feedback on another post-apocalyptic story (Mags Hotel) about Mags who is taken to a hotel and tries to decide between a chance at her old life or a new one. I loved writing it and needed a few weeks to sit on the feedback. The story emerged from a writing prompt (your character wakes up in a strange place….). Unfortunately, this is a beginner’s trope (link to trope). Good to know! Now I need to jump straight into the action. The editor also said I was too simple/basic when providing information about the background and situation, and starting in res can help… although I can picture some of my readers getting confused without the exposition. But I asked for professional feedback and I will try to improve the piece.

My current WIP is Unfair Advantage 2. I finished the first pass, and it also clocks in with an unwieldy word count, north of 15k. I enjoyed returning to Eileen (link) and writing the piece. I can’t imagine trying to get it published anywhere other than here on chawner.net, though. The first edition struggled to find a home, and this second part assumes the reader is familiar with the first. But this obstacle, used correctly, should be an opportunity. If I publish it here, I will need to format and present UA 2 correctly. Maybe provide blurbs here and link to a properly formatted pdf which should be a great learning opportunity.

My wife and I watched the disappointing The Many Saints of Newark. After finishing the movie, HBO rolled directly into Season 1 of The Sopranos. We only intended to watch a few minutes but were hooked from the opening song. Like most good New Jerseyans, we had faithfully watched The Sopranos while it aired. I enjoyed it but hadn’t given it much thought since 2007. Watching it again, one or two episodes a night spread out over two months, was amazing. We had forgotten entire characters and plots; it was better than watching it for the first time (more evidence that I should re-read/ re-watch more).

For Christmas, my wife gifted me Woke Up This Morning. Two actors from The Sopranos, Michael Imperioli (Christopher Moltsasnti) and Steve Schirripa (Bobby Baccalieri), highlight the best parts of their binge-watching podcast. Fun read and the perfect companion to re-watch the show. I heard the authors and their guests (mostly other characters from the show) speaking in their voice while reading. Not only was it an interesting read, but there were takeaways for the creative process.

The first lesson is the structure, rules and formula for seasons and episodes. I don’t know how standard this was in the industry, but David Chase (creator and show-runner) created the narrative arc for Tony Soprano and his crew each season. Individual writers wrote each episode. They followed a formula: three plots (A, B and C). A was the main plot and was broken down into 18 beats; B got fewer beats and C less. Chase’s team created magic within the narrow confines of that structure. An interesting way to engage with the characters and offer consistency and a shared vision.

Each script went through multiple reviews. The entire team of writers provided notes and discussed the script. The authors (especially Imperioili, who wrote a few scripts and was in the writer’s room for Season 5) and their writer-guests implied these rooms could be brutal. But this gets back to one of my themes, immediate feedback that may have elevated the writing in real time. Woke Up This Morning also references how long and hard the sprints were to make deadlines… another example of guardrails (set timelines), intensity, and focus.

The attention to detail was eye-opening. There had meetings regarding tone, costumes, sets… attended by the writers and directors and the people in charge of implementation (wardrobe people, etc.). They read the script and discuss the little details.

David Chase maintained a shocking level of control throughout the entire process. He not only created, well, everything and the arc to entire seasons, but he was in the writer’s room, oversaw staffing (especially for writers) and had final edit . From a distance, it’s a stunning combination of individual control and vision while working in the brilliance of so many other contributors. I can’t think of any other examples where someone can keep so much influence, yet benefit from other contributors.

The same themes appear; guardrails, structure, deadlines, feedback from peers, attention to detail and fanatical control.

read part 1

Most of the film is the four Beatles facing each other with their instruments. It was a constant feedback loop, in real-time. When Paul doesn’t like how Ringo fills a gap, he says so, and the change is immediate. Same with the words; John or Paul pull Mal (their longtime road manager) over and they constantly re-work the lyrics. Contrast this with how I have always experienced feedback. At work, feedback is given (on code, on projects, on presentations) after a submission; the opposite of real-time. Same with writing; I struggle to find avenues for real, helpful feedback, and when I do, it is weeks or months after its creation. I wonder if workshops or retreats are the natural equivalent… part of the experience is writing something and presenting it the same day. Curious about how tightening that loop effects the work. Also, how much of the magic here is because of their physical proximity? Hard to envision this level of collaboration and feedback, and camaraderie happening over Zoom.

If the Beatles weren’t working on new songs, they filled time by playing covers. I can’t find any references to support this, but assumedly most of the covers were songs they played in Hamburg. One of them would rip into a tune and the other three would follow. It looks like they’re just having fun or blowing off steam, but it’s practice disguised as play. The musicianship of the band is stunning, honed from literally years of playing as a bar band in Hamburg as teens. See the 10,000 hour rule. And they never (at least not as edited) warm up with scales or anything else. They use these songs to unwind and practice playing as a band.

As usual, I’m looking for takeaways. The biggest is the importance of collaborators and peers to give honest and timely feedback. Another is to embrace obstacles, rather than looking at them as blockers. Should my inability to get past traditional gatekeepers truly stop me from publishing my work? Or do I need to figure out ways to get around this restriction. Interesting. And maybe the biggest takeaway is the obvious and incredible magic of tea and marmalade to the creative process.

I’ve watched the Beatles documentary “Get Back” twice since they released it in November 2021. The first time was as an awe-struck fan. The Beatles were long disbanded by the time I was born, so to see them as young men, collaborating on iconic songs was amazing. Watching Paul McCartney come up with the riff for Get Back in two minutes blew my mind. On the second watching, I could pick up on some elements that made their process worth studying.

Random observations:

• They are all incredible musicians, jumping between instruments, picking up riffs and chords on the fly. I don’t think Paul plays a wrong note in six hours.
• The technology used to make the film was almost invisible; it was only noticeable when they overlaid conversation over scenes where the talking didn’t match.
• George Martin, so important on the earlier records, seems useless.
• Outsiders influenced George Harrison (Clapton, The Band, etc.) while John Lennon and McCartney were more self-contained and unconcerned about other bands. They pull from rock and roll songs from their youth.
• The editing was fantastic until the concert; Peter Jackson, the director, stuck with how the original film showed the concert, interspersed with crowd reactions. Just show the Beatles playing, please. Leave the crowd’s reaction for the closing credits.

One of the jarring items from the documentary was how many obstacles the group had to overcome. The original space had terrible acoustics. When they moved to Apple studios, the space wasn’t ready. The technology (4-tracks, etc.) was dated and not ready for them when they arrived. They had a tight deadline, because of a movie Ringo Starr was scheduled to shoot and another engagement Glyn Johns the producer had (a study in priorities and perspective… Ringo’s movie was lost to time and who is this other band Glyn needs to get to over the Beatles). And the entire goal of the session and the original documentary were hazy. The big takeaway here, though, is these issues didn’t hinder the process. If they had a pristine, perfect space, the best technology and months and months of open time… do these songs come out the same way? Not a chance. It’s the guardrails that drive so much creativity. I remember when I was a teenager listening to Howard Stern. He had Siskel and Ebert on the show and they begged him to make a documentary of the show. During their discussion, Howard complained he couldn’t do the show he wanted, and both Siskel and Ebert told him it was the blockers, the restrictions imposed by the FCC and the local radio stations that made the process amazing. The same holds true here.

Another obstacle was the lack of leadership. Their old manager, Mr. Brian Epstein, had passed away, and they didn’t have a replacement. Paul steps up and fills this void; he’s the one pushing the work agenda and the most aggressive with ideas for songs. But no one elected him or agreed he was their leader. He just stepped up. Most Beatles histories cite John as the leader and inspiration of the earlier albums, with Paul taking on this role in the later work. This really caught my attention; as someone who works in a traditional workplace with a defined hierarchy, it’s interesting to watch “work” happen without a defined leader. Yes, this causes friction, especially with George leaving the band for a few days, but they still get their work done.

read part 2