Cyber Monday Special - Mind of a Writer, the Evolution of a Story... Andrew

Welcome to CyberMonday! Today I have for you a blog about the evolution of a story.

Once a short story, now a novella, it is called, "Andrew". Want a free download of it? If you wait, you can have the re-edited version, but it might take a while, we're working on it now. Or you can have both! Either way.

Currently I am re-editing it with my editor, Ilene Giambastiani. If you are interested in reading it as it is now, here is a coupon ( GN32P ) good through this week. If you contact me later after we re-released it, just let me know you read this blog, I will give you a coupon for a free copy of the new version at that time. But stick with me, there's more coming.

This, is a story that has had big ramifications for me.

"Andrew", cover by Gosling called "Andrew's Final Vision"

This is the story of that tale....

Before we get started however, allow me to invite you to read my ongoing story on Wattpad titled, The Unwritten. A mixture between old fashioned horror, sci fi and biblical nightmares, I doubt you've ever read anything quite like it. But then, that's my forte. The odd, the unusual, the macabre and the horrifying.

Okay now, let's get on with it....

In 1983 I was a senior in the Psychology Department at Western Washington University in Bellingham, Washington, up near the Canadian border. I was taking my first university fiction writing class. Finding that I had enough credits to get a double major if I took another two or three quarters of classes, I decided I would settle for a minor in Creative Writing .

I took Fiction 101 as my first class toward that minor. I wanted to force myself to actually write a story, beginning, middle and end, as I had written quite a few interesting stories with no endings, much to the frustration of my friends.

Our professor in Fiction 101 tasked us to write a story, make enough copies for all in class, then everyone would read the stories for the next day, the night before, and the writer would read the story in class. We would then round table and critique it.

There were some interesting stories, but mostly as I remembered it, there being more females than males in the class, there was a high degree of romance based stories. The Assistant Editor of our school magazine wrote a story but I found it rather dry, though well written. Then it came to my day. I wrote a story that I titled, "When Fades The Shadows" (later titled, "Andrew").

After I read it in class, I discovered two things. They all liked my story. Our Professor hated it. Perhaps partly because I was overplaying my hand, writing beyond my capabilities, but also because he didn't like how melodramatic it was. He especially mentioned a scene in the TV room when five year old Andrew envisions a horror all around him in the room.

Cover art by Marvin Hayes

I was voted along with another, to write one extra story than the others in class to be read on finals day, as we had no finals in that class.

Also available as an audio book

My stories were, "Mea Culpa" (which I've expanded now and have included in my collection of short stories, "Anthology of Evil" and as a standalone ebook); and, Sarah (same situation), about a woman with Alzheimer's disease and based upon the story of a coed's grandmother that she told me right after Abnormal Psych class one day at Western Washington University.

Cover art by Marvin Hayes

Over the years I fooled around with Andrew and it grew and changed. But the core of the story is the same. A child who is very advanced, who has parents who were into using their child as an experiment, did everything in their power to push his intellectual capabilities to their extreme limits and beyond. This is juxtaposed with his adult pursuits and an ending for Andrew that is really just a new beginning.

Years later, I had an opportunity to put my stories into a collection of my works but it was over 1,000 pages. So I made one volume ("Anthology of Evil") with the stories in it that I couldn't fit into a more novel like book I titled, "Death of Heaven" (for more see, DeathOfHeaven.com). Here is a coupon for this book, good through December 7th: RM89D - feel free to share this with your friends and their friends.

Here is what one reviewer had to say about it:

"[Death of Heaven] ... has a Books of Blood vibe [referring to Clive Barker's seminal book series], which really works well. It's in these tales that the author's writing ability shines. He demonstrates a lovely turn of phrase and some of the writing is almost poetic in its beauty.
Michael Brookes - Author & Reviewer

All that from two tiny little stories. Well, little stories with massive story lines. Story lines big enough to evolve into an epic science fiction horror story.

To create that book, I also took another short story I wrote on a lark at midnight one night on a single page, single spaced and then turned it in to my Psychology professor the next day. He then made copies and passed them out to all his classes so that I walked in the next day and received an unexpected handout of a purple inked, mimeographed copy of my own short story, "Perception", which is now included in the back of "Death of Heaven".

Between those two stories, in 2012, "Death of Heaven", was born.

I finally got an editor, end of 2013 and she agreed to work on Death of Heaven with me. We republished that on my birthday August 30, 2014. Because that book meant so much to me and the reviews were so good,

Cover art by Marvin Hayes

I realized I should try to re-edit all my stories in my first book. In that book was my first ever published story, "In Memory, Yet Crystal Clear" and the last story was "Andrew", the lead in to my next book, Death of Heaven". I just thought that Andrew and In Memory, both, especially, deserved to be properly cleaned up and re-released finally.

So now I am working on the re-edit of Andrew, my first short story written for Fiction 101 at my university in 1983. Now a novella, it is the basis in part for my book, Death of Heaven, along with another story titled, "Perception".

I had originally labored so hard over this first story while both fear and trepidation watched over each shoulder as I concocted this story that brought such great irritation to my writing Professor and yet such awe and fascination from my fellow students on that day that it was read in class for the first time.

Now after so long, so much tinkering with it over decades, after publishing it and now working on it with my editor (thanks Ilene Giambastiani), it is so very strange indeed to be thinking once again on those words burned so long into my mind. I find myself once again struggling to find the rightness in the morass of meaning and words that it is or maybe, has become.

The words are there and like a sculpture chiseling at stone, I'm trying hard to find the art that has been set in stone for so very long. It's a process of birth and death, joy and sorrow, of rebirth and, like a phoenix rising, honing it down to a deft flame of time and tale into an appropriate foundation for what a vast story that has come of it since it was originally conceived and shared.

Here is the original version presented to my class that day in 1983, the first published version released in 2012 and the newest version, so you can see how it has changed over the years. In these three snippets, you can see how I was writing in the beginning, how I had gotten to be after several decades had passed, and finally how I am now after several very intensive years of writing in the public eye.

Original version of Andrew:

When Fades The Shadows (1983)
"Invisible movements. Billowing, cotton-like breaths of pressure descended gently from on high. "Appearing to be only a breeze, the molecules conveyed along ever so imperfectly, the breeze gathered unto It any and all particulate matter; whatever was accessible to it; thereby hiding somewhat, It's violent loneliness. The gregarious animation of those particle's, was forced plastically, and yet...gently...tenderly, even perhaps, affectionately. One whispering sigh of wistful ardor, slowly succoring up to the clean, bright, and powerful Lifeforce of...a child; listlessly sitting within the confines of a window frame.
"An owl, sensing something amiss, swooped serenely into the midst of the Entity's presence. She then stumbled, surprised, in mid-flight. Never had she ever come across anything with such purpose, and yet, almost completely hidden within Nature."

Then I published it in a book, Anthology of Evil and after that as a standalone ebook novella.

Andrew (2012)

"Invisible movements of a honeysuckle fragrance; billowing, cotton-like Breaths of gentle Pressure cautiously descended into the suburban neighborhood from on high. It hesitated, looked down into the white, picket-fenced yard, and pondered on Its achievement. Appearing as a mere cool dry, fall breeze, the molecules conveyed along ever so— imperfectly; it gathered unto Itself any and all, particulate matter in proximity. In fact, whatever was accessible to It, hiding somewhat in a loneliness of vast and violent proportions.

"The gregarious animation of those particles was forced plastically and yet— gently, tenderly, perhaps even affectionately, up against a window. A whispering sigh of wistful Ardor that slowly succored up to the glass and the clean bright, powerful Lifeforce of— a little child. Listlessly, the boy sat on the window bench, one leg bent partially beneath him, looking out the window. He shifted his feet allowing them both to dangle loosely at the ends of his legs.

"Sadly, he remained crowded within the white rectangular confines of the untattered window frame, vacantly staring off into the yard beyond the panes of glass, bearing forth no remembered regrets.

"Trailing the breeze at a distance was an owl."

As I said, I am now re-editing it with the help of my editor, Ilene.

Today as I write this it is November 30, 2014. I wrote the following and including this version of the first few paragraphs, in an email to Ilene.

"Here are the first three paragraphs, of Andrew, reworked. It took me all week to get up the strength to work on this, though I had the week off from my day job. I was a bit hungover from a great time on Thanksgiving. Today, I think this sudden cold change in the weather is messing me up and I feel pretty lousy. But bucking it up, I finally tried to work on this, but after only three paragraphs, I feel artistically and emotionally drained.
"You know, I wrote this living with Monica in college and I wonder how much of that is tied up in this. In working on this, aside from the poetic nature of my attempts in writing this originally, to expand myself artistically and creatively, this is like reliving my college years, including a long term, intense and failed relationship and memory of how much has happened since with two more failed marriages, living alone, and so intensely wanting to quit my job in IT work, being where I am now and also where I'm headed to.
"What a chump, right? I do find working on this story much harder than anything else I've worked on, and not because of the difficulty of the piece, though that is some of it, but for all the emotional reasons. SO here is today's pass: "

Andrew (2014)
"Invisible movements of a honeysuckle fragrance; billowing, cotton-like Breaths of gentle Pressure cautiously descend into the suburban neighborhood from on high. It hesitated. Looking down into the white fenced yard it pondered this achievement, concealed somewhat in a solitude of vast and violent proportions.
"Appearing as no more than a cool, fall breeze, airborne particulates of all kinds were gathered unto it and carried along ever so lightly into the picket fenced perimeter. The gregarious animation of those particles was forced plastically and yet— gently, tenderly, perhaps even affectionately, up against a window. A whispering sigh of wistful Ardor slowly succored up to the glass and the clean bright, powerful life force of— a little child.
"The young boy sat on a window bench, listless on the warm side of the glass, one leg bent partially beneath him as he gazed out. Shifting somewhat he unfolded his slightly numb leg, allowing both feet to dangle freely. He remained sadly crowded within the white rectangular confines of the untattered window frame, vacantly staring off into the yard beyond ancient panes of glass, bearing forth no remembered regrets.
"At a distance an owl trailed the entity, sensing something amiss."

And well... that is where we have gotten to so far and there is much more to come. It may get another run through of these passages as I've not yet heard back from my editor. We will continue to edit and re-edit until "Andrew" finally becomes the story it could always have been.

Once we finish, I'll repost this blog and update it.

Stop by my web site for information on any of my other writings. at JZMurdock.com.

Cheers! And have a great holiday season!

Evil in the Writings of JZ Murdock

Evil. You know what it is, we all do. Right? Everyone knows. It's...bad people, doing bad things. Or, it's an evil beast, or a supernatural force. Or something. Right? But, just what is, evil? Is it Pol Pot? Saddam Hussein? Bin Laden? Your neighbor? Your brother or your sister?

I wrote Death of Heaven with the intent I've had since I started writing. To bring surprise and affect to the reader. To effect and infect them with a shudder, a scare, a roller coaster ride. But also to write in a way that is an event that includes a journey and not just a destination. Apparently, according to this review, I may have succeeded. But that's not really why we're here.

Death of Heaven was my attempt to give readers another way to view the World as well as our History as a whole, in a completely new and before unconsidered way. In my first book, a collection of my short stories called, Anthology of Evil, my orientation was to exhibit evil in ways other than what we see evil personified as now a days; and to make it interesting. Mostly anymore we see simple slash and gash stories, especially in the cinema. Albeit perhaps a little more complex than in years previous.

Still and all, I do like gory movies and stories as much as the next Horror aficionado. But evil exists in many forms, not few. Not just in the most gross and immediately horrible ones. Perhaps part of the problem now a days is that we tend only to recognize evil at it's most base, that of murders or cannibalism. But evil exists mostly in this world in far more common forms. Forms in fiction that are still entertaining and something to be explored. These forms have taken the backseat for far too long, and they are finally clawing their way back.

For a quick example of what I'm talking about, perhaps a summary of the stories in "Anthology of Evil" would help.

In Memory, Yet Crystal Clear - In the near future, a world famous surgeon is called upon save a life. A simple thing for him in many cases but in this case, he faces a bizarre condition and a genius with his own remedy. And so he meets up with his late son's best friend. Through the course of the story the surgeon does his Hippocratical best to help save his his son's friend. Through his actions and with the best of intentions, slowly the country and the world begin to change. In its way it is a far more horrible story of social horror than any slasher film or zombie story. The evil in this story is in the social change that takes place, how good intentions can end up with evil endings and how easy it can be sometimes, to find yourself thinking in ways you would have considered insane not that long ago.

Gumdrop City - Falling back on the serial murderer trope (as in a common or overused theme, or trope), what would be a parent's worse nightmare? In a story that would lend itself to visuals of horrific things being done to murder victims, my goal was to horror in a completely different way. This story is actually based on a true crime event and the main elements in the story are true. I only fictionalized a drama out of it by using a neighbor to put the reader into what that might be like. The problem in writing this story was in the age of the victims as they were children. How do you tell the story without horrifying people to the point of not even finishing the story? Sometimes the horror is too direct and too hard to experience. It took a long time to work out that fine line. The evil in this story is obvious. Evil intent, and actions.

Quantum History - In this story about a physics experiment gone awry, a man is changed in ways inexplicable and humorous in this comedic take on the standard science fiction experiment gone wrong trope. The evil in this story comes from who the protagonist changes into and how that is affecting his wife. And others. The evil in this story is very indirect and comes from the character and history involved in the story with a kind of Mel Brooks slant on things.

The London Mea Culpa Document - A found document is briefly discussed. It talks like a report on something and about what had been found, its history, who found it and how it affected his professional career. The evil in this is how the man was treated over confusion and misauthenticion in a scientific, academic community. Offered next is the document itself. As a side note, the story of the man who "found" the document is told in my book, "Death of Heaven" as "Vaughan’s Theorem".

The Mea Culpa Document - In a found document in England as described in the previous story, we learn from a Medieval witch hunter and Judge of the Inquisition about the single most important event in his life. That might be enough evil right there considering his professional standing, but he then ruminates in the document about his late Master and role model, as he finds himself unbelievably to be in a similar situation to the one that killed his mentor. The evil here is in one's own ignorance (especially where it is opted for) and self-involvement.

Poor Lord Ritchie's Answer (To A Question He Knever Knew") - In another story set in Medieval times, a Lord has been tasked to take a sword to the enemy of his family as a pay off and acknowledgment of subservience. What ensues is a mixture of insanity, time travel and a splitting of a man and history. The evil here is in society and how individuals can suffer for their merely being human.

Sarah - An old woman has Alzheimer's Disease. Though she lives with her daughter's family, she is pushed aside because of her illness and "reality". It is a disease that takes your mind, twists it and in some cases, the worst cases, can lead to horrible things. The evil in this is in how her disease keeps her family from treating her like the strong minded women she once was, and in how her mind is broken by the disease in bizarre ways. Evil is not always done by a person, a God, or Nature. It is at times done by something else. It is sometimes done by things we cannot understand and never will.

The Fall - Love just forces us to be crazy sometimes. Crazy forces us to love sometimes. In a very short story about love and love lost, the evil here is in one's attachment to one's desires. And some extra crazy.

Japheth, Ishvi and The Light - Exploring the Zombie trope in this story, one of the elders of a self-sufficient religious commune clashes with his relationship with God, just as the Zombie Apocalypse hits the world. A team of military specialists in this kind of scenario (zombies that is) stumbles upon the situation and what you would expect to happen, happens. But then again, not in the way you might expect. The evil in this is obvious, but also not. Zombies are obviously evil, but so is the protagonist's views on life and what sets him up for what happens next.

Andrew - This is the final story in the book, paranormal in nature, and a novella. It also sets the stage for my book, "Death of Heaven". It is the story of a young child, five years old, who suffers and survives a horrific car accident. His good minded Aunt and Uncle take him in, but he is silent in his world now, having trouble even realizing anyone else is there. But he is not alone. All the other characters in the story want something from him. What they want is beyond anything we see in life. Powers that are beyond imagination are involved leading to unimaginable consequences; some in this novella, some continued in "Death of Heaven". The distance between these two stories is vast, so you'll be surprised if you read "Andrew" and then minutes later start "Death of Heaven".

Those are the stories in "Anthology of Evil". Those are the forms of evil in those stories. I've begun a second book on this theme in a similarly titled book. One of these days, I'll release it. But there are many forms of evil. And some are silent, no one ever knows of them, except we do. In our life. We may have to recognize it, and perhaps no one else will see them, or understand them. And if that is the case, then we will have to live with it ourselves, alone, and suffer to bear it until the day we die.

Consider that the person next to you also holds secret one of these evil things from their past. We all do. We may try to forget them, but they are there. We may not have recognized them. But they were there. It may be an evil secret not even about them, but their own personal tiny or immense horror that they have to pull all through life with them in privacy, perhaps painful privacy. Perhaps, not so painful privacy. Some of those people, perhaps sitting right next to you, may not only have one of those evil secrets from their past, but it may continue on right now, and far into the future. Because after all, only mere seconds ago, is our past.

As an example of a different kind of evil, there is a story I published on PerihelionSF.com called, Expedition of the Arcturus (also available as an audiobook), which connects with a certain kind of political evil. [By the way, there are bad links for this story going to PerihelionSF.com from when the story was first published there. These links actually go to the current story for the current month in the magazine. Next month will have a new short story in that position. My story there has been archived as the March 2013 issue.]

Expedition of the Arcturus is a story about Earth's first generational space ship. It is sent on a seventy-five year mission with families to populate another planet. Things behind the scenes are in motion and the evil truly is in that. There is no violence in this story, but in the end, the truth leaves you with a realization of what we do to others in the hope of serving the better good. How our concern for the masses can leave us with little concern for the few. Is it right? Or not?

Evil comes in many forms. It is not always in the actions of the mugger, the murderer, or the corporate swindler. There are a lot of good stories out there and to always seek the most violent, the grossest, or the most disturbing stories all the time is to inure oneself to a wide variety of drama, moments most poignant and well, seriously messed up, fear invoking. But a steady diet of the overt and obvious will keep you from enjoying the finer nuances in the realm of Horror.

Typically this is the purview of the younger viewer or reader seeking the bigger, the wilder. And surely that is fun for all of us in various ways, especially as a fun change. But it's too easy to fall into the trap. Much as Hollywood does in its films. Always having to be bigger (but better?), louder, wilder, it leads to eventually a genre becoming a parody of itself. It also "dumbs" us down. It spoon feeds you your horror. So once in a while we need to jump ship and experience the darker side. Which ever side that would then put you on.

As for Death of Heaven, I believe I have succeeded in my original intent, backed up by this review, as I mentioned earlier. The evil in this book is intense, mostly obvious and everywhere. Literally. If the stories in Anthology of Evil seemed at times tame to some, Death of Heaven will not (read the review for more color on that). In this book, there is nowhere to hide. The Horror is everywhere. But I tried to run the gamut from obvious to subtle, as I wanted to write something that would affect anyone, on various levels and with various intensities.

And so I continue to write stories in an attempt to always try and slip the knife in slowly, pressing in with precision, sneaking it into just that specific point in the body that will do the most appropriate damage for whatever is the present sick situation.

Quick death or slow pain? It's whatever the moment calls for.