Better Fiction: The Blog

For the moment, I'm going to believe there are three types of people in the world: Benjamin Franklins, John Adamses, and everyone else.

The John Adamses of this world find fault in everyone but themselves. Arguments are seen as won by being hard, blunt, and brutal. The Benjamin Franklins find common ground and ask Socratic questions to guide their audience to finding the right solution. Franklins are willing to compromise. Adamses are not.

Everyone else falls somewhere in between.

People who share the opinions of a John Adams admire him. People are often not sure where a Franklin stands. John Adamses often insult the opposition to the point that no one will listen to them, other than those who already share their beliefs. People listen to a Franklin and are often swayed by them.

Are you more a Franklin or an Adams?

Which would you more likely vote for?

These are not trite questions. I think there is much value in the Franklin approach, but in looking for a man to represent me, a Franklin might raise too many doubts. The Adams would ruin much with his bluntness, but I would know where he stands.

It's as if I want a man to speak to me as an Adams and to the world as a Franklin.

How about when it comes to witnessing? Should we be more the Adams or the Franklin?

I have seen many Adams insult the world in the name of Christ, thinking they do God a favor by bluntly standing up for His name. I am more a Franklin, and I think God can take care of Himself. He did not send me to protect His honor. He sent me to join in His work of wooing others to Himself.

Which leaves me with the idea of a Teddy Roosevelt witnessing style: speak softly and carry a big cross.

Blessed are the peacemakers.

Wade Ogletree

The best thing to happen to me as a writer was my joining a writers' group. By grouping with other writers and pooling our talents, we challenge each other, provide that understanding that only other writers can, and we grow through the process of critiquing one another's works. Even the process of helping other members of the writers' group refine their work helps me to grow as a writer.

Right now, we have room at the Better Fiction Writers' Group for people honestly interested in polishing their craft. Come check us out at http://www.makephpbb.com/betterfiction.

Do yourself and your writing a favor. Join a writers' group, and stop by ours to see if we would be a good fit for you.

Wade Ogletree

JP Dellova is a good friend of mine, and one I've never met. This Christmas I was saddened to hear that he had lost his wife to complications with breast cancer. I asked him if I could share this article with you as it touches beautifully on the writer's struggle with life, inspiration, and the false guilt of diminishing life by letting it inspire us.

Through A Tunnel

JP Dellova

Someday I'll be able to write about it, about the process, about going through this wormhole, or tunnel, or whatever it is that happens when moving from the death of one you couldn't bear to survive, to the point of actually surviving that person. But, though this isn't the day, or even the year for it, it is at least the moment of emerging from the cocoon of grief.

I'll be able to finish paying the funeral expenses soon, and after that other things will open up, and close -- such as having to move from the house we paid for in so many ways, but never owned -- and the next step will be sitting in a large sunny room in Florida, listening to the music I love while writing. Marion wanted the writing to be a success, and she wanted it even more than I did, and do now. Perhaps that's the thing that keeps me from wallowing in this tragedy, the knowledge that what Marion wants (sorry, I can't see her in the past tense) is what I want. It means I can write without feeling selfish.

The strange part is I don't want to, haven't really wanted to write for at least a year. But at the same time I want it more than ever, and more than I've ever wanted anything else, except my wife.

This thing we do is an incredibly insane activity. I've always said it, but it's never hit home to me before. A thought sticks in my head that being with my brother so many hours a day during the last week of his life last year, and being by Marion's side almost constantly for three weeks, watching her slip away, watching my brother holding his course, bawdy sense of humor even in agony, these are the sort of things that make us better writers. And I hate myself for thinking it.

But, in a creative sense, there's something to be said for leaving that darkest black shroud, that bottomless agony of unending grief. And there's something to be said of it in a human sense as well.

Marion is in my heart, in the soul whose existence I'll argue over till it's my own turn to find out for sure. She's always been in my writing, and I feel her now, constantly, as I think about the stories I'll be writing, and the ones I'll be rewriting.

It came to me today, such a really simple thought, that Marion isn't dead. I still hear her beautiful laughter, still remember how maddening she could be -- and her thinking the same of me from her side -- I remember how happy she was about losing 75 pounds last year, and how terrible it was for her to see her stomach swelling, her body bloated from the infection that would kill her. I remember how, while that was happening how she'd smile as I moved my hand along her forehead and told her how beautiful she was, calling her my doll-girl, my beautiful doll, all the corny things I could think of. And I remember that final moment, holding her hand while the nurses tried to get her heart to start pumping again, the moment when we both died.

And came to be alive again, both of us, today, while I looked at her photograph and told her again that she's my beautiful doll. And she smiled back at me. Forever.

Today is Better Fiction's fourth anniversary. By internet standards, we've been around for a while, and I couldn't be more thrilled. Thanks everyone!

A brief history: In the fall of 2004, I experienced a rebirth as a short-story writer. I had just finished a rather rotten attempt at a novel, but I did at least finish the project. I had another project in the works, but I needed a break from the long, drawn-out process of writing novels. I had written shorts stories before, but never really liked the outcome. The closest I'd come was a sci-fi radio play, "The Body Shop", that was produced by USC radio around 1990. I got lucky with that project, and in the fall of 2004, I started getting lucky again.

The writing began to click. Still, I needed help and feedback. I joined a critique group that seemed to have entered into a dormant period and made it my purpose to help pump life back into it. I found the feedback, though imperfect for we are all imperfect people, to be valuable, and I was especially thrilled at the positive response to my own critiques. Within a month, the forum began to feel like my online community.

Then on the first of January, 2005, I returned to the forum to find it shut down. The writing site that sponsored it had decided to abruptly change direction, and I was left virtually homeless. Having put so much into that community, I decided that instead of joining another, I would try starting my own. Better Fiction began January 4th, 2005.

Thank you for the last four years. Thank you for your input and your hard work. Thank you for your support and friendship.

Happy Anniversary, Better Fiction. May there be many more to come.

Wade Ogletree

Written for Better Fiction in February of 2005.

Back in 1962 I was one of several aspiring writers who got together by

mail to critique each other's manuscripts, with an eye to perfecting them

so they would become publishable, much as you folk of Better-Fiction are

doing now. In the end most of us succeeded and I regard it as an

excellent process that significantly helped me finally break into print

after eight years of trying alone. So I applaud what you are doing here;

it can help.

However all was not always positive. Ambitious folk - and what is more

ambitious than seeking publication? - can have strong drives and extreme

sensitivities. You can praise a writer's effort, but the moment you

suggest it is flawed, he/she is wounded and apt to strike back at your

manuscript, and the fight is on. Writers should know better, but somehow

don't. This happens even among professionals. We had some beautiful

quarrels, and in the end became alienated to small or large extent. You

have to watch that.

Another thing I encountered was the challenge of success. When it became

apparent that I was placing more of my pieces than the others were, I

became more of a target. Each person feels that he should be the

deserving one, and privately resents the success of others if they are

greater than his own. It seems impossible to avoid. I have been there,

and in retrospect have to say that I was as mean spirited as any.

Another thing is honest difference in perspective. For example, the

males in our group liked sexy fiction; the females didn't. One woman

wrote to me when commenting on my story "Ship of Mustard" wherein the men

are shy flowers and the women are sexually agressive, in essence: "Of

course sex is part of life, but can you look yourself in the mirror after

writing this?" She thought she was being objective. So I plead for

special tolerance: try to respect the material of others on its own

terms, even if it annoys or unsettles you. You can say, for example "This

piece is not to my taste; I don't like the idea of raping children. But

it might be more effective if you showed it from a single consistent

viewpoint, instead of three at once." Sex is by no means the only thing

that can set people off.

Mainly, steel yourself, knowing that if the process is to succeed, you

will have flaws and outright blunders pointed out to you. Don't get mad -

revise them. And if you see one person making an unfair comment on

another's piece, don't hesitate to say so, politely. "With all due

respect, I do not feel that her story is worthless trash simply because

it has no sex; there are other things in life." Always try to be polite;

I speak as one who learned that the hard way, by alienating worthwhile

writers. No one view is likely to be definitive; cross-critiquing of

comments can be extremely helpful, even if it leads to fights.

Piers Anthony