U - Universe Creation

So I’m writing a book where reality is just a little bit, well, bent. I’m still on Earth. I’m still in a real city. But the things that are possible in my book aren’t possible in ‘Real Life’. And isn’t that cool?
Being able to conceive of an entirely different reality? 

Granted, there are masters of this universe creation thing. Orson Scott Card. Patrick Rothfuss. Brandon Sanderson. All these people created places with laws of existence that are different then our daily reality. Yet. Yet we just accept them as truth. They wrote their worlds with such skill that it was just a given that Ender existed with Bug Aliens. Rothfuss is a master of storytelling and world building. You don’t question for a second that the type of magic in his books exists. In fact, he makes it so real you start to wonder if it IS real and just simply forgotten about.

Even if you don't like fantasy, READ THIS!

 
Anyway. The point I’m trying to make is that in writing it’s hard to decide what path to take when introducing our audience to Our World. Personally, I like to just be thrown in, head first. Learn the rules as I go, rather then have it all spelled out at the beginning. It also feels more real to discover the world along with your character, more organic.

 One of the most useful pieces of advice in writing I ever got came from a college professor way back in the day. I was busy writing some novel or another where I had just given the audience All the information about the ‘world’ I had created in the first chapter. Tolkien style. YAWN. But it seemed so important that the reader UNDERSTAND where they were! You know? He said to me, “What are you in such a hurry for?” That statement changed my writing style in a huge way. It was like a bolt to the brain. No idea what I was in such a hurry for. And because of that statement, my Universe Creation...my pacing, if you will, has gotten so much better. Not to say it can’t still use some help! Can’t we all...But that’s what World Building is all about. Pacing. 

Finding the right balance between letting your reader into your secret and giving away the family jewels.

T - Taste

*commence rant*
Something I do not miss from my Cheffing days?
Special orders. Holy Crap. What the hell is up with people going to a fine dining restaurant, looking over the menu and saying to themselves. “Gee. It all looks so good! Except I’m really in the mood for just some steamed haddock and a couple of blanched carrots. You can do that right? You don’t mind?” Yes. Yes I do mind! 

Why did you come out to eat if you just wanted something so ridiculous? And I’m not just randomly choosing something as an example.  Nine times out of ten, a special order would be a piece of poached or steamed white fish with some sauteed veggies on the side. No starch please! Oh, and just a little bit of lemon if you could. ARGH. 

I just liked the design of this...Never eaten here.

How about this. How about you look at the menu. Go ahead. Look at it. I know you can read. Now. See all those things listed on it? Those are the choices! Choose one of those! These were put together after many hours of testing and research. They represent long nights spent after the restaurant closes trying to figure out new dishes that work well together. Foods that pair well with wines, that pair well with the appetizers, and the desserts. And in you come with your “simple little request”. It may seem like a minor little thing to you, and if I hear one more person spout off about the customer always being right I may lose it...But it’s not a minor little thing. And I’m not talking about food allergies, obviously that’s a different beast. This is just pure, in my opinion, ridiculousness. 

Who spends time choosing a restaurant for the food that they make...and then basically blows the whole restaurant's persona out of the water by telling the chef what and how to cook. It’s insulting. Don’t do it. I beg you. 
*end rant*

S - Short Stories

Once Upon A Time... This is how stories start still, right? I wonder how that started? Who wrote that first? Anyway! Once Upon A Time there was a girl..nah, I always write about girls! A Boy.Boys need their time to shine. A Dog. Nah. A DUCK! ooo! A Kangaroo robot from the planet Maboo!

Once Upon a time there was a boy who wanted to ...hmmm. What the hell did he want? Must have a plot. Why am I writing this story? I know what I want. I want a cup of coffee. Really good coffee with just a bit of sugar and cream in it.

Once Upon a time there was a boy whose dream in life was to open a coffee shop. Everyone laughed at him for this dream because when you live on the planet of Maboo the only type of liquid people drink comes from a plant found high in the mountains. Yeesh
That’s crap. probably should have stuck with the kangaroo robot. Would have made more sense. Sigh. Scrap that whole thing.

The fuel of fiction

Once Upon a time there was a prettyful princess! HA.
I think my problem is that I’m starting too typical.  Ah. Here we go.

“You take the rolling pin”
“I don’t want the rolling pin. I want the knife. I’m older. I should get the knife.” The two young girls stood over the kitchen clutter drawer glaring at each other.
Damn it. Girls again. Oh well. Where was I …. Glaring at each other....
“Fine. You take the knife, but you go first. Besides. You heard it first.”
“Fine.” With a twirl of defiance the smaller girl snatched the big cleaver out of the drawer. “you can explain to mom and dad why I’m dead on your watch.”
“Oh for...” The taller girl rolled her eyes and pushed roughly by the smaller blond to get to the foot of the stairs. Just then it came again, rolling slowly down the staircase, muffled and quiet like footsteps.. but no one was there. FwepFwep BAM
“Go ahead! I’m right behind you!” The blonde pushed the brunette roughly.
It was a tortuous journey. They knew where all the squeaky steps were, but it didn’t seem to matter. Every few minutes FwepFwepBAM! Like someone was dragging a dead foot down the steps and then dropping a rock. Every time it started, they froze. It sounded as though it was right next to them. Echoing off the walls.
Finally they reached the top of the stairs. Their parents bedroom.
“I’m telling you. There’s someone in here!” The blonde whispered frantically to the brunette.
Slowly they peeked up over the edge of the floor, trying to catch a glimpse of the intruder with the dead foot.
Suddenly, the blonde screamed at the top of her lungs, flung the knife with all her strength across the room, then ran blindly back down the staircase sobbing hysterically. The brunette, having heard nothing, stood up slowly and looked around the room. It was empty. Then it started again. FwepFwepBAM.
The window shade was getting blown out -FwepFwep- and then sucked into the window - BAM! over and over. Lying next to it on the floor was a hastily thrown cleaver.

Some days the ideas flow...some days I shouldn’t be allowed near a pen...

R - Restaurant

I had it all figured out. 


I was going to call it Marrow.


It was going to be a French Bistro. You know, The kind with the beat up butcher block table tops. Heavy pewter flatware. Mismatched glassware. Menu that changes pretty much every day written on a chalk wall over the dimly lit bar. It was going to seat about 35. Any more than that and it starts to feel less intimate, too impersonal. The tables would have real pepper grinders on them. None of that powdered shit. I hadn’t decided what to do about salt. I personally prefer kosher, but about the time I left the culinary world, grinding salt was coming into vogue. Meh. Salt is salt. I like the look of a salt crock. Rather old world. 


The kitchen was going to be open concept so people could gather around  to watch the huge slabs of braised beef being rotated out of the open brick oven. Wood heat baby. Its the only way to make osso bucco. 

Not even close...but I like the wall!

It would have a slate patio where people could come and have a bowl of french onion soup, share a bottle of wine or sit back and read a book with a cooling cup coffee.
I was going to make the best braised meats this side of the Atlantic. I was going to figure out how to make a croissant without needing to import water from Paris. I was going to get people to love the idea of eating small portions, and Enjoying the flavors, tasting the layers of of the 19 hours of braising that went into that piece of beef on your plate. Savoring the days and days of reduction and balance that goes into a well made stock.

It was going to be magnificent. 

I unfortunately did not win the lottery.

Maybe not my best financial plan...

Q - Quote

I dream of a future where I will soon be quoted as much as “They” are. I’ve not quite figured out who ‘they’ are yet, but ‘they’ seem to have quite a bit of control over the world. Almost as much as that “Simon Says” guy.

“They” Say you shouldn’t go swimming for at least two hours after eating? Pansies!
“They” say you shouldn’t wash your lights and darks together. Racists! “They” say you shouldn’t speak to strangers. How would you ever meet anyone?

They say. They say! Well! Someday soon it will be “Alicia Says!” and the brainless masses will start doing my bidding and my plan for taking over the world will be complete! Bwahahahah!
oh.
Ah.
ahem.  You’re still.....RESISTANCE IS FUTILE!

P - Potato

I hail from Aroostook County in Maine. Potato Country. And to me, there is nothing more satisfying, or nutritious, than a baked potato. 

Lovely, scalding hot. Fluffy. Crispy skin. Earthy. All you need is fresh butter. Maybe some salt and pepper.Seriously. Why are you messing about with all this fancy schmancy stuff like sour cream and bacon. Which, I understand is good on a baked potato. Absolutely. But all the time? No. 

Also good roasted with Rosemary and Salt.

Someone once tried to serve me a baked potato with sour cream, bacon and broccoli on it. They had the nerve to call it a Vegetarian Casserole. Now, I’m not a Vegetarian. (Don’t get me started...) But SERIOUSLY? The NERVE! It was an insult to Baked Potatoes everywhere! (not to mention...the bacon....but that’s ok...the pig probably only ate veggies...)

Oh, And truffles! Mustn't forget about the precious truffles! What is up with everyone putting truffles on and in everything (Mac and Cheese anyone)? Good god. Just simply bake it. And enjoy the simple beauty that is the honest goodness of a potato.

Oh, if I find out that you are “Baking” them in the microwave I will find out where you live, come into your home at night and do unspeakable things to your toothbrush.

O - Odious

Isn’t that a fantastic word? Not only does it sound Bad. But it also draws up images of things that smell rather disgusting as well, doesn’t it? For example:
 "The odious sweet smell of decaying flesh rose to hit him in the face when he opened the manhole cover."
Or:  "The bonnet. The odious bonnet. If she had to wear it again, she swore she’d kill someone, and look. That’s exactly what happened."
And I know it isn’t my “food” day but this word is often associated with fish. And fish smells.

I’m not sure where it starts to become cliche when a word is too often associated with something. Think Romance. Think how often “Odious” is used in conjunction with the stamping of booted feet, or the pounding of clenched fists. Or the tossing of a ringlet-ted head as she flounces off saying “OH! That Odious Man!” Not that there’s anything wrong with a good romance every so often. But when words get over-used in certain situations they become cliche. Their power gets taken away.

Love Lady Cottington's Pressed Fairy's!

For example, I just wrote a short story where one of the plot points got a bit fouled up because I had described a character as having an ‘Earthy’ scent to him. My critique peeps felt this gave the character a feeling of bit of the Fae to him. Which is not at all what I was aiming for. Wasn’t even on my radar. I was just trying to suggest he was from ‘the wrong side of the tracks’. But since Both of the people who critiqued the story picked this up as an issue, I felt I should change it. Even though it’s not even close to what I was trying to convey. So, now having an Earthy scent is Equal to being Fae?       Odious!