Matthew Dicks

In the company of greatness

My last name may have caused a kerfuffle in the UK, but it always places me in good company on the bookshelf, as one kind reader pointed out to me today:

The music of UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO

My guest post on The Undercover Soundtrack is up today.

The Undercover Soundtrack is a blog that invites authors to share the music behind the novels that they write.  In some cases, it’s the music that an author may listen to while writing, and in others it’s the way in which music plays a role in the book.   

In the case of UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO, music played a large role in helping to define the character of Milo Slade, making it a perfect book to write about for this blog and an easy post to write. 

Many thanks to Roz Morris for the opportunity to participate in this interesting project.   

MEMOIRS OF AN IMAGINARY FRIEND: Foreign news

Two exciting pieces of foreign news related to my upcoming MEMOIRS OF AN IMAGINARY FRIEND:

1.  The UK audio rights to the book have been purchased by WF Howes, an audio and large print publisher based in Leicestershire, England.  Since the story is told in the first person, this means that Budo (my protagonist) will presumably be speaking with a British accent.

I cannot wait to hear this. 

2.  My Italian publisher has hired the translator of JK Rowling’s HARRY POTTER novels to translate MEMOIRS OF AN IMAGINARY FRIEND.  

In the words of my agent:

“This is a pretty big deal. Unlike the in the US, translators’ names hold weight in Europe, so this adds a recognition factor to your book.  Plus the translator is supposedly one of the BEST!”

Unless I learn Italian, I’ll never be able to judge the quality of the translation, but it’s wonderful to hear that my book will be in the company of Rowling’s masterpiece.

At least in Italy.

In translation.

On an unrelated note, my second novel, UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO took another baby step this week on its journey to film adaptation. 

Nothing is even close to definite yet, but the chances of seeing Milo on the big screen became slightly more probable this week.   

Good things apparently come in threes. 

M-I-L-O

My daughter noticed my books for the first time today.  They are stacked on the cluttered bookshelf near where I write, and as I was giving her a hug, she looked over my shoulder and asked, “What’s that?”

 

I told her that they were the books that I had written.  She knows that I write books because she often tells my wife that “Daddy write books on computer” but I don’t think she knew that I had actually published anything until today.

How could she?  She’s only two-years old.  She doesn’t know what publishing means. 

But for the first time, I think she finally understood that the books that I write on the computer are related to the books that she reads everyday.  

She stared at the pile for a moment before reaching out and touching the spine of UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO. Then she traced the word MILO with her index finger and said, M-I-L-O. 

Just the fact that she could identify all four letters without any prompting was amazing. 

But to watch my daughter trace the letters on the spine of a book that I had written, and then to listen to her call out the letters while realizing for the first time that her father had actually written the book, was one of those singular moments in life that I will never forget.

Lessons from Irving and Franzen

I learned a number of interesting things from the authors who appeared at Friday night’s Connecticut Forum.

John Irving’s favorite word is penis, and he claims it to be a very useful word when needing to cut through the chatter of an airport terminal in order to locate your lost child.    

Jonathan Franzen credits HARRIET THE SPY as his first formative novel.

John Irving believes that all novelists should write about what they fear the most. 

In terms of my position on these matters:

I have no favorite word but now feel foolish for not having one.  I shall begin searching immediately. 

My first formative novels were A WRINKLE IN TIME and TREASURE ISLAND. 

In terms of writing what I fear most, my books would probably fall into these categories: 

SOMETHING MISSING: Fear of never being noticed

UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO: Fear of never being accepted

MEMOIRS OF AN IMAGINARY FRIEND: Fear of not existing

Know thyself, or just read what festival organizers have to say about you instead

My appearance at the upcoming Connecticut Book Festival has been finalized for those interested in attending.  I will be speaking on Sunday from 10:00-11:00 AM at the University of Connecticut Greater Hartford Campus. 

I’ll then be signing books from 11:00 AM -12:00 PM.

More details to follow, including the schedules for the other authors appearing. 

In examining the The Connecticut Book Festival’s author website this evening, I notice that it describes me as:

“A writer and teacher who tends to deal with the quirky and/or rebellious individual, forced up against staid society.”

It’s so interesting (and enlightening) to hear someone else’s interpretation of my work.  While this description may not fit my upcoming book, it certainly applies to my first two books, as well as my currently unpublished novel (CHICKEN SHACK). 

And yet, had you asked me to describe some of the common themes throughout my books, I’m not sure if I would have said anything like this.

And yet if I were to ask my friends to describe some of the ideas that are important to me, the rejection of formality, convention and meaningless tradition would probably top the list.

The mind works in mysterious ways indeed. 

Quoted on Twitter, which is only slightly less prestigious than Bartlett’s Book of Familiar Quotations

I was quoted twice this week on Twitter, which is a good sign considering one of my lifelong ambitions is to make it into Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations. 

The first tweet reads:

From an article in Reader's Digest Aug '09: "The story already exists and you just need to find it." -Matthew Dicks

Oddly enough, I do not recall ever interviewing with Reader’s Digest and cannot recall seeing any article in the publication about me.  Still, this is a phrase that I use often, so wherever Reader’s Digest got their information, it was at least accurate.

The second tweet reads:

"Old age is the last dirty trick." -Matthew Dicks, Unexpectedly Milo

Though this line appears in the book, it was actually said by the mother of a  good friend during her last year of life.  I liked it so much that I stole it for the book. 

So technically this one is not mine. 

But add the first to my current list of hopefuls, both assembled by me and culled from this blog by a generous reader. 

1. Brevity is the sou

2. Lost potential is difficult to measure and convenient to ignore.

3. I wrote term papers as a means of flirting with girls.

4. In my most treasured friendships, there is little room for hurt feelings.

5. Ambiguity in the possible death of a character is an act of cowardice on the writer’s part.

6. I spend many of my evenings struggling to stay alive. 

7. Don’t let anyone fool you.  Death is hardest on the dead.

8. Passive-aggressive, indirect, and anonymous are three of my least favorite qualities in any form of communication.

9. Nothing convinces me about the stupidity of human beings more than driving in the vicinity of the mall on a Saturday.

10. I am more impressed with the quality of a person’s questions than with the quality of their answers.

11. It is all about me, but you’re welcome to occupy space.

12. Spock said that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, but what if the many are all incredibly stupid?

13. You can determine the effectiveness of a teacher by the frequency by which you can enter the classroom and speak to the teacher without grinding learning to a halt.

14. If you are not delegating enough, you are not lazy enough.

A contest! With prizes!

I like the word nonetheless a lot.  It’s like the Swiss army knife of words.  So full.  So well equipped.  Practically three words in one. 

This morning I found myself attempting to use the word nonethesame, liking the sound of the word very much but finding my use of it less than adequate. 

Then the word nonethemore popped into mind. 

Also difficult to use. 

And so, a contest! 

Propose the best definition of each word, including (and perhaps most importantly) the use of the word in the most clever sentence, and you will receive a signed copy of UNEXEPCTEDLY, MILO and its German translation, 99 SOMMERSPROSSEN. 

You must submit a definition and sentence for each word in order to be eligible. 

Post your entries here or send them via Facebook, Twitter or email. 

Contest ends on March 31.

Good luck!

 

Avoid ambiguity in the demise of a character

I don’t mind endings that make you wonder what might happen to a character had another scene been written or filmed.

Both SOMETHING MISSING and UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO end with the protagonist’s future in doubt.  But at least you know that both protagonists will have a future.   

What I despise are endings in which the existence of the protagonist in a subsequent scene is in doubt.  

This is why the last episode of The Sopranos annoyed me.

Either kill Tony or don’t.  Don’t avoid taking a position on the matter by creating some multi-layered scene that might be interpreted as Tony’s eminent death but might not.

This was a mobster show.  Whack the guy or don’t.

This is why I didn’t like the ending to The Wrestler, which Elysha and I watched last night.   

Yes, it’s very likely that the viewer is meant to assume that Randy dies at the end of the film, but again, his fate is ultimately left to interpretation.

Does he suffer another heart attack as he dives off the top ropes? 

Possibly.  Probably.

But aren’t there medical personnel on hand?

Didn’t he survive his first heart attack?

Kill him or don’t.

Ambiguity in the possible death of a character is an act of cowardice on the writer’s part. 

The thing I do best

I was recently asked by an editor to describe my strengths as a writer, and after some fumbling about, I had to admit that I did not know.

It’s a question that I’ve asked myself over the years, since so much of my success seems accidental. 

I do not know the plot of any of my stories before I begin writing.  Instead I choose a character and a place to begin and start tapping keys.  While a story eventually emerges, it’s hard for me to take any credit since so many parts of my stories reveal themselves to me through the process of writing. 

My books are said to be funny, but I never make any overt attempts at humor.  In fact, when readers first told me that SOMETHING MISSING was funny, I thought that they were not reading carefully enough.

Even the occasionally clever turn-of-phrase is often stumbled upon as my finger connect with keys. 

As a result, I’ve often wondered about what allows me to be successful as an author.  Is it simply persistence and blind luck, or is there something specific that I do that makes my stories successful.

Then I saw a quote last week by author Ethan Canin that summed up what I think I do best.   

Canin said:

Don't write about a character. Become that character, and then write your story.

This is what I do well.  This is how I write.

Rather than envisioning a story, complete with characters, setting, conflict and themes, I simply imagine a character.  I enter that character’s mind.  I become that character, and then I begin writing.

As I wrote one of the final and most pivotal scenes of SOMETHING MISSING, in which Martin climbs a set of stairs, prepared to meet his fate, I was inside Martin’s head, climbing those stairs with him, unsure of how the encounter would end.  As the events unfolded for Martin, they unfolded for me as well, unexpected and surprising, because in that moment, I was Martin.

As I wrote the opening chapter to UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO and the word conflagration popped into Milo’s head, it popped into mine as well, without a hint of forethought or planning.  Milo’s compulsions, a critical aspect of the book, came as a surprise for me, and they were delivered to me in the same way that Milo experiences his compulsions, suddenly and unexpectedly, because in that moment, I was Milo. 

That is what I do well, and that, I believe, is why my writing career has taken off.  For reasons that I cannot explain, I can occupy the mind of my characters with surprising effectiveness. 

I am not the most talented writer.  I have many weaknesses, some of which my agent and editor effectively conceal from the general public, and some that still find their way through into my stories.  I am not the finest wordsmith, nor is my prose terribly sparkling.

But I can become the character, and then I can write his story.

That is what I do best.