Boo Walker's Drowning in Words

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10 min · 20 de may de 2026
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I’ve finally made it to our summer hideaway on Peaks Island, here in Maine, and as always, I find myself set free in so many ways. There’s a lot to worry about out there in the big blue blistering blur of life, a lot of ways to conjure fear. It all falls away as I step onto the ferry to leave the mainland. If you’re ever up here, come find me. I’d love to break bread with you, so long as you’re good people. I’ll share pics of the last few days below, but first, let me get into some lovely art that’s landed into my life lately. Let’s start with the book world. Ridley Scott has made a film adaption of Peter Heller’s The Dog Stars [https://amzn.to/49wBKiP], which is a post-apocalyptic book that’s been on my TBR pile for far too long. Years, in fact. I’m halfway through and so so into this book. He’s a tremendous writer, a sort of Hemingway-esque vibe, coarse and virile, but there’s a gentleness too. And his imagining of what happens after a flu kills most of the population will definitely keep you tearing through pages. Have you read it? I know, I know. Surprise, boo is talking more about end-of-times books. Sorry, not sorry. The movie hits theaters in August, so plenty of time to read first. I highly endorse this wonderful novel. Quick side story: director Ridley Scott’s television person reached out to me a few years back about adapting my Red Mountain series. That, my friends, was a wonderful day and an agonizing few weeks as we chatted a bit, and I waited for a big fat green light. Alas, nothing came of it, but that only means Red Mountain [https://amzn.to/4ujsdDR] is waiting for a better time to find the screen. I feel it coming soon! Are you watching Your Friends & Neighbors on HBO? What a show; what a cast! The second season is total fire, and I feel almost guilty as I delight in how toxic and unhinged this crew of Westchester, NY high-society misfits has become. Now, music! As I mentioned, the Newport Jazz Festival [https://newportjazz.org/] is my spirit place, and I’m getting to know this summer’s lineup. I’d not heard of Gotts Street Park [https://www.instagram.com/gottsstreetpark/?hl=en] before, a jazzy soul group from Leeds, but they’ve climbed the boo charts in NASA fashion. Check out some of their work with these killer female singers, Pip Millet and Celeste. For real, crank these tunes up and tell me if your soul doesn’t start dancing. Yeah, that’s right. Doesn’t get much better than that. Celeste is going to be at Newport too, so I’m hoping they all share the stage together. Anyone else going? Last and least, here’s what’s happening in my world. My mom and the one other wonderful person who listen to the audio versions of these missives will be over the moon to know that I recorded an into and outro with my acoustic guitar that will now be included on all further podcasts, starting with this one. Don’t fear, I’m not getting all professional. It’ll still be unedited and an unfiltered mess, but I just had an urge to write a couple of catchy jingles, what my friend Charlie has taught me is called bumper music. You can listen by hitting the play button above or via my Drowning in Words podcast on Spotify [https://open.spotify.com/show/7eT5GbBUYyTEtYRbgU4eZr] and Apple [https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/boo-walkers-drowning-in-words/id1871330758], which will have the latest episode up shortly. My agent came back with edits for my work-in-progress, Salvation Isle, and she’s thrilled with what I’ve done. She’s most certainly lying, but it’s the encouragement I needed to take this baby home. I have a July 15th deadline and feeling beyond wonderful about this story. You have NO IDEA what’s coming. For you writers and readers who like craft talk, I have some good ones on deck, so stay tuned. Much love from Peaks and thanks for letting me share, boo Drowning in Words is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Drowning in Words at boowalker.substack.com/subscribe [https://boowalker.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

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episode Godwinks in art and outlining novels artwork

Godwinks in art and outlining novels

Before I get into some wild Godwinks and coincidences and the wondrous nature of opening yourself up to the mesmerizing entanglement that weaves us all together, allow me to mention an essay I’ve just published on outlining a novel. Never before have I had my arse kicked by a piece like this one [https://open.substack.com/pub/boowalker/p/on-the-craft-pounding-out-story-beats?r=22hty&utm_campaign=post-expanded-share&utm_medium=web]. I can’t believe how much it took out of me, weeks of pondering and re-working, and I’m super proud of how it turned out. It’s not just for you writers; it’s for anyone who wants a look behind the curtain. And there may be mention of a new Red Mountain novel! You can read/listen to it on Substack [https://open.substack.com/pub/boowalker/p/on-the-craft-pounding-out-story-beats?r=22hty&utm_campaign=post-expanded-share&utm_medium=web], or find the 53-minute audio version via my Drowning in Words podcast on Apple [https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/on-the-craft-pounding-out-story-beats/id1871330758?i=1000770593920] or Spotify [https://open.spotify.com/episode/7I1tDW95wQELQYQktb9FNa?si=0e309e0caa3349ad]. Okay, we all know what Godwinks are, right? They’re the tiny miracles occurring all around us—should we choose to take notice, those whispers from the mystic that assure us that we’re not alone. Allow me to share how the following collection of art tied together for me this morning as breathtaking evidence of a grand design. I feel touched by the divine and hoping I can pass it along. Books. I’m not quite done talking about The Dog Stars [https://amzn.to/3PRBe8m] by Peter Heller. May I share one of the many passages that knocked me to my knees. Here goes… I stood in the shade of the tree in the cool breath of the moving water and let the sound, the light breeze blow through me. I was a shell. Empty. Put me to your ear and you would hear the distant rush of a ghost ocean. Just nothing. The slightest pressure of current or tide could push and roll me. I would wash up. Here on this bank, dry out and bleach and the wind would scour and roughen me, strip away the thinnest layers until I was brittle and the thickness of paper. Until I crumbled into sand. That’s how I felt. I’d say it was a relief to have at last nothing, nothing, but I was too hollow to register relief, too empty to carry it. I really didn’t give a shit what this old bastard did to me. Nothing to lose is so empty, so light, that the sand you crumble to at last blows away in a gust, so insubstantial it’s carried upwards to shirr into the sandstorm of the stars. That’s where we all get to. The rest is just wearing thin waiting for wind. C’mon! That is fire, folks. That is why I read. I came away from this novel feeling so grateful for what I have, as it’s such a reminder that it can all go away in a moment. We must not take for granted the little things: a long meal with loved ones, the choice of take-out options, the comfort of a good bed, the touch of your lover—even the slightest one—or the little sounds they make, the funny nuances of their routine, the access to all the art you could ever consume, the chance to say “I’m sorry” or “I love you” or to start again, a lick on the face by a dog who loves you unconditionally, the brush of your cat as she weaves ‘round your legs, a goodbye kiss from your child as he rushes out the door to go find his place in the world, mail delivered to your door, your mother and father and brother a video call away, the way the warm morning sun cuts through the window as you sip coffee just the way you like it, the way a patch of grass, a good book, and a bit of shade on a hot day is all you ever need. Film. Check out the movie trailer to The Dog Stars. Or maybe wait until you’ve read it first. I don’t know that Ridley Scott can do wrong. It’s gonna be a scorcher of a film. And that cast: Jacob Elordi, Josh Brolin, and Margaret Qualley! Here come the Godwinks. Music. I mentioned one of my fave bands, Bleachers, had a new album [https://music.apple.com/us/album/everyone-for-ten-minutes/1872842313] coming out. It’s here, and it’s marvelous. I only just learned in preparing to share with you today that Jack Antenoff, the muscle behind Bleachers, is married to Margaret Qualley, who is the aforementioned star of The Dog Stars. How about them apples? Not only that, she’s the daughter of Andie MacDowell (Groundhog Day), who you know and who just so happens to have been born right down the road from where I grew up in South Carolina. God winks for days!!! Don’t you just love when you plug into the dazzling interconnected web of creative wonder? Can I throw a cherry on top? Here’s one of the marvelous tunes from the new album. Notice the banjo? I just did as I pulled up the video. You might know my first gig was playing banjo in Nashville. I can’t stand it, guys. All I want to be is wrapped up in this holy web. Let’s leave it there, right? I’m six weeks from deadline and stoked to bring Salvation Isle to you next year. I know, that seems like a long time. At least The English Bookstore in Bologna [https://amzn.to/4vrMmbe] is coming in hot, only two months away! Much love, boo Drowning in Words is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Drowning in Words at boowalker.substack.com/subscribe [https://boowalker.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

2 de jun de 202614 min
episode On the Craft: Pounding Out Story Beats artwork

On the Craft: Pounding Out Story Beats

Warning: brainwork ahead; lots of words coming; you will need coffee We’ve covered opening yourself up to a new story, sowing those seeds, and allowing them to take root. Let’s skip ahead, assume you have a story idea, and talk about sketching out the beats, aka, plotting. This one’s not only for writers. It’s for any curious souls who want to pull back the curtain on the creative process. As always, you can listen to the audio version by clicking above or on my Drowning in Words podcast on Apple [https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/boo-walkers-drowning-in-words/id1871330758] or Spotify [https://open.spotify.com/show/7eT5GbBUYyTEtYRbgU4eZr]. You know that Dos Equis commercial featuring the most interesting man in the world? He says, “I don’t always drink beer, but when I do, I drink Dos Equis.” Well, I don’t always outline, but when I do, here’s an idea of what’s running through my head. Don’t fear. Following my suggestions below and attempting to hammer out a plot before you start writing doesn’t mean you have to be a plotter for the rest of your life. An outline isn’t going to bite…hard. Stephen King, an infamous pantser, won’t put a hex on you. And you’re not losing the magic by engaging the analytical part of your brain. I can’t stand the idea that we authors feel a need to jab our flag into one camp, either plotter or pantser. Do whatever the project calls for, whatever’s pulling you. Yes, I pantsed the first half of Salvation Isle, and it was a wonderful ride, but with the new project I just started, the fourth in my Red Mountain series, I wanted to outline as much as I could. And I’ll explain why shortly. Both plotting and pantsing have wonderful merits. Pantsers, those who write by the seat of their pants sans outline, thrive on discovery. They have the joy of spelunking into a dark cave with only a headlight, seeing only what’s right ahead of them. It can be scary and surprising and a ton of fun too. It’s as if you’re enjoying the story in real time as you tell it. Also, it’s a thrill to simply start typing and see what appears on the page. Known pantsers: boo walker, Agatha Christie, Haruki Murakami, Ursula K. Le Guin Plotters, on the other hand, can set their story up in a way that might lead to a cleaner first draft. They can take time to weave in layers of complexity that pantsers won’t get to till later on. They have a plot that is likely already adhering to the theme and advancing the character’s growth in a steady arc. The obstacles are presented with precise escalation. And so on… One could argue that plotters are faster at arriving at a publishable story. I’m trying to squeeze this Red Mountain book in between two other contracted books that have fixed deadlines, meaning timing is of the essence. Plotting can make tackling a more complicated structure easier. In the case of my Red Mountain stories, I typically have three to five points of view. Pantsing that kind of spread can tax boo’s CPU to the point of a short-circuit, and nobody needs to see boo short-circuit. Lastly, I’ve found that having an outline makes it far more difficult to get bogged down by writer’s block. I heard someone say once that writer’s block only happens when you don’t know where you’re going. How true! Known plotters: boo walker, John Irving, Patrick Rothfuss, Tana French, George R.R. Martin Did you notice I’m part of both camps? I just wanted to see my name next to all those masters, though I couldn’t allow myself any capitalization. I’m a plantser: bi-curious, non-partisan, and plotsexual. I suggest you be the same. Change it up. Don’t get comfortable—or else your muse will get bored and go find someone younger and thirstier for words. Though it’s always changing, I prefer the middle ground. I hammer out an idea of where I want to go—sometimes a heavily detailed plan, other times a couple of paragraphs expanding on the premise—but always set out on my story journey welcoming distractions. An ADHD joy ride toward the climax of the story. Even the best plotters make room for their imagination to grab the wheel. You can’t know all the places a story wants to go till you’re submerged, wearing your character’s skin, hearing their dialogue, feeling their feels, seeing the plot whiz by in real time. Here’s a good place to defend a misconception about plotting. Pantsers love to rub in the face of plotters how boring it would be to miss out on the joy of discovering the twists and turns along with the character. Plotters can do this too. If you spend long enough prepping your story, figuring out your characters, and then pushing through the beats, you can absolutely play discovery games. Exercise: Create a character in your head right now. Yeah, you, right now. Imagine yourself wearing their skin, breathing through their lungs. Now, give them a desire and then put something in the way. Once, you’re there, close your eyes and imagine that character going after that desire, then hitting the obstacle. What do they feel? How can they get around it? Put them into action. Maybe they don’t get through. Think of another way around the obstacle. Keep going till they get their desire. You just played discovery without typing a word! Don’t be afraid to get dirty. Here’s the truth of it. If you really want to outline properly, giving yourself the tools you need to start writing without pausing for a month, then you need to get dirty. You need to get into the head and skin of each character, get into the specifics of each obstacle. You have to answer all the questions lingering as you watch your people run around in this world you’re building, and as you toss out plot ideas to keep them moving. Free write, research, play the “what if” game, find pics of your characters, speak out loud with their accents, create their family tree, draw out settings, go on long walks to consider all possibilities. Whatever it takes to bring the story to life in your mind. Choose your weapon. Now, choose your weapon of choice: whiteboard, chalkboard, sand on the beach, index cards on the floor, Scrivener corkboard, Excel (ugh, nooooo! Though I use Excel at times, it feels a little corporate to me). Naturally, I suggest changing it up. I’ve tried everything I can think of. Stretch those outlining muscles. During a recent rage-filled episode with Scrivener (which I’m back to loving, by the way), I discovered Plottr. The guys over there were kind enough to offer a subscription, and I committed to using it for this Red Mountain book. It’s a wonderful tool, cleaner and more elastic than Scrivener’s corkboard. In fact, I’m already thinking that with future books I’ll use Plottr for outlining and Scrivener for character/setting organization and drafting. I’m forced to use Microsoft Word once I start working with my editing team, but I like to stay in Scrivener as long as possible while writing. No matter your tool, here are the basics that I find important. Of course, talk to me in two years, and I’ll likely have an entirely different process. With Plottr, I can create as many rows of blank boxes as I’d like, but you can apply this to any tool you’re using, including a good ol’ fashioned notebook. Blank boxes are your index cards. They give you enough space to fill out the crucial information. What’s most important to me, whether I go physical or digital, is that the index cards are moveable, so I can arrange and rearrange them as I massage my plot. Creating empty boxes. First, I decide on a timeline. Will it stretch over the course of a summer or span a decade or more? The first step is to create a row of boxes that show rough dates. For Red Mountain Calling, it starts in March and ends around November. Locking that down early on is huge. Then, I create another row of boxes that’s dedicated to larger events in the story. It didn’t take me long to realize that if I follow the yearly pattern of my Red Mountain stories, this one kicks off in March of 2020, right when COVID arrived. In this timeline, I mark down factual dates such as when restaurants and hotels closed, when the hospitals started spilling over. I also might mark some important dates related to the wine year, like when budbreak takes place, when winegrowers pick their white and red grapes. And whatever other dates apply to the story. I’ll also insert important dates from my fictional universe too. For example, I know a very bad thing will happen on the mountain, and it will affect every character. That goes here too. I create yet another timeline to sketch out the classic beats in any story, like the catalyst, the midpoint, etc. More on these later. Now, the good stuff. The beats for our characters. As mentioned, I have a few different storylines going (only do this if you have a death wish), so I create a row of empty boxes for each of my POV characters. And here comes the author crisis… I created all these boxes, then just stared and stared and stared. My seventeenth book, and I felt as much like a newbie as I ever had. I beat myself up for a while, sped down Impostor Syndrome Boulevard, even had the urge to forget my grand idea of prepping and just start writing, but I ultimately held strong to my outlining commitment and took a step back. I had a sense of how each of the characters was starting out, but I wasn’t quite sure where they were going, so I decided to pull a few craft books geared toward outlining off my shelf. Thumbing through them knocked some wonderful ideas loose, but then I got super frustrated. I noticed that one book disagreed with another, and I found myself wondering if I was reading them wrong and which path to take and who to side with and… Stop overthinking, Boo. That’s what I told myself. Everything you need is between your ears—and behind your ribcage. That’s the issue with craft books. I adore them. Hell, I’m writing the first in a series of them! But the user must understand that they offer one way to do things, which is super helpful, but we can’t get pulled into thinking there’s only one way, that there are specific guardrails we must follow. I’ve already talked about Theo of Golden breaking rules. A totally static character without an arc and arguably last year’s favorite in the book world. How about Daniel Kraus winning the Pulitzer with his novel Angel Down? It’s one big sentence! I bet you I can find umpteen billion craft books telling you how to structure your sentences and not one of them will encourage a sentence that stretches for 304 pages. With these how-to books, we can learn how other writers think, but then we must set ourselves free to make and break our own rules. In the end, I’m looking to do two things: 1. Chase an idea that brings me joy as I usher it to life 2. Entertain my readers and hopefully make their lives a little better The first is easy. Write from your soul. Write for yourself. Do not write to prove that you matter to those around you. Do not write because you want to be known as a writer. The second requires work, but the good news is that the vast majority of readers out there don’t care how strictly you follow the rules. They wouldn’t even know to notice. They care about being pulled in by an interesting character that’s going through something intriguing. They care about pacing. This day and age, we’re competing with other forms of media that are more easily distracting, so we can’t let them get bored. My point is that you don’t need to ever read one craft book. Just like musicians don’t need to know theory. I was a music major in college because I adore seeing under the hood. Same for story. But by no means are how-to theories required to create a masterpiece. All that said, studying the craft can be a tremendous joy and learning some tricks can save you from reinventing the wheel. Before I return to the topic at hand, let me say while smashing my fist down on the podium that the far more important piece to your growth is consuming stories, including those that don’t quite work. Books, movies, poems, songs, television shows. Do that enough, and you’ll know what to do once you get started with your own. You’ll build an instinctual sense of pacing, of how characters grow, of how good dialogue works, of how to capture the audience. Putting my books back on the shelf, I ultimately returned to this idea that it’s all in my head and my heart. Let my instincts steer. What followed was tremendous. Drowning in Words is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. What is a story? Before we drill into the specifics, let’s hammer out what we consider a story. That’ll give us a better idea of how to build one. With respect to plenty of exceptions (hello again, Theo of Golden), a story, or at least my stories, have a flawed character(s) who change as the plot progresses. Typically they want something (even an inkling of the vaguest something, internal or external) but obstacles get in the way. By the end, whether they achieve their goal or not, they have positively or negatively changed, the latter of which can lead to a pretty sad story. Regarding Theo of Golden, the protagonist didn’t change but the cast around him did, which is a glorious example of how the rules are here to be bent and broken. Here’s another simple distillation I like apropos story, attributed to playwright George Abbott: Part one, you get a likable guy up a tree. Part two, you throw rocks at him. Part three, you get him down. That’s all you need to pound out a story, amigos, but let’s add a few other ideas in. Cause and effect. Your story needs to flow, and the best way is getting most of your plot points to lead into the next. In other words, unless you’re shaking it up, maybe don’t construct a story with a bunch of random scenes. That’ll take you into episodic territory. Your scenes need to flow into each other by cause and effect. I can’t go further without mentioning the “but/therefore rule” brought to the writing world by the creators of South Park. Trey Parker and Matt Stone would make sure each scene was tied together with “but” or “therefore,” instead of “and” or “then.” Try that and see how much more interesting your story becomes. I’ll have this concept in my head while plotting, then revisit it when I go over it later. Make the story easy for your reader. The premise/theme as the spine. Most scenes should (should is such a bad word!) be connected to the overall premise and theme of your book. To me, the premise is the basic concept, your elevator pitch, and the theme is what you’re trying to say, the underlying currents running between the words. Don’t overthink them and let the definitions of each hang loosely, no matter who tries to tell you exactly what they are. As you fill out the empty boxes in your outline, stay true to your premise and theme. If your teacher gave you an assignment to write a collection of elephant poems, don’t cram in a tiger poem just because you like stripes. For all my Red Mountain novels, I’ve held onto this premise: a cast of colorful characters in a small wine-growing region fights for life, love, and belonging. The themes have to do with working together for a grander cause, finding meaning in life, learning to love yourself and others—despite the ugly bits. See what I mean by keeping it loose? Notice how I didn’t just stick to one? This is my party; I can do whatever I want. I consider these ideas with each plot decision. I’ll even create a micro-premise (and maybe a related theme) for each POV character, which falls under the main premise umbrella. On structure. I have a flexible structure concept that I’ve been tweaking for years that includes a few beats that always find a way into my stories—and most stories. I mentioned creating such a timeline earlier. All of my novels so far reflect the hero’s journey, as brought to us by Joseph Campbell. Go read Christopher Vogler’s The Writer’s Journey for the best way to understand it. You’ll also find I adhere to a three-act structure, the second act being split in two by a midpoint. Thank you Aristotle and Syd Field, among others. Along with marking each act and midpoint, I have some other essential beats: the opening scene, the setup, the call to adventure/catalyst, character breaking into Act II, midpoint, dissolution/crisis/dark night (my fave), the awakening, the charge leading into Act III, and the final scene, which might hark back to the opening. These are just story basics, beats that I recognize in nearly every book, tv show, and movie I consume, and they come out of me instinctually. With my multiple POV books, I try to have the characters grow in roughly parallel fashion, meaning that each POV character’s big moments, such as the dissolution, happens around the same time. Because I have my timeline, knowing that Red Mountain starts in March and ends in October (at least for now) I can guesstimate where the beats will land. The midpoint will be in June. The beginning of Act III will land in September. Know your characters. Before we fill this growing collection of boxes, know your people. What are they dealing with? What is their flaw? How’d they get so damaged? What is the wound that led them to this place where they need a story to grow? Why am I telling their story? How are they going to change? What are their worst nightmares? Once you can answer these questions, nail down what they want. As I say over and over, their desire can be anything. ANYTHING. Don’t let anyone tell you it has to be a measurable external goal. Most craft books will push this idea on you. Yes, that’s one way to do it, and it just so happens to be an easier way, but there are tons of stories out there proving the options are endless. The desires can be internal or external or both. They can be concrete, such as going after a promotion or solving a murder, or they can be absolutely vague, such as a pursuit of happiness or simply a will to get by every day. It’s just nice to have something in mind, so that you can throw obstacles at them. That’s your story. I’ll write out what each character wants, then brainstorm all the possible obstacles that could get in the way. You’ll see this in action down below. This can be the most fun of the whole project. Don’t hold back, write down anything. Then pick and choose your favorites, especially considering what challenges will be most germane to the story at hand. If you’re really good, you can organize them in a way where each obstacle is more daunting than the next. In other words, start by throwing rocks at your character, then bricks, then daggers, then pull out your gun. But prove me wrong. Start with the biggest monster and end with a tiny bang. Once you have a list of challenges, start filling out boxes. Your character goes after what he wants, runs into an obstacle, which causes him to recalibrate. Perhaps he’s knocked back a few steps, but he pushes forward. Once he gets past one obstacle, throw the next at him. Your story is coming alive. At this point, it’s good to remember that your character is growing. He will try to solve his issues in unenlightened ways in the beginning. By the midpoint, however, we should expect that he’s grown and has a sense that he must change before he can truly realize his internal and/or external goal(s). Bake that into your scenes. Think about how someone who has grown might face the same obstacles he faced earlier on. Putting things into practice with my WIP. To show you this thinking in action, let’s get granular and look at one of my characters. Otis Till is one of the stars of my Red Mountain series. He’s had a ton of flaws over the course of the series, so I needed to come up with something more creative. Side note: when writing in series, you might have a character slowly grow over the whole story. In my case, I didn’t know it would be a series from day one, so most of my characters grew out of their initial flaws in book one. No matter, I just give them new flaws with each new book. That’s a lot like each of us, isn’t it? We work on one challenge, only to discover we have a new issue the next year. Of course, the issues are often related. In the last Red Mountain, Red Mountain Burning, Otis left the mountain, but now he feels this desperate need to return. His flaw has to do with feeling like Red Mountain can’t continue without him. He can’t relinquish control even after being gone for a year, and he feels as if he doesn’t matter unless he’s a part of it. His journey will be about returning to Red Mountain and trying to clumsily save the mountain and its inhabitants, only to realize that he must stop white-knuckling and let go. Here’s a workable micro-premise: an elder winemaker of Red Mountain must find his new place on the sidelines if he is to go into his seventies with a sense of peace. No promises if that will stick, but it’s a good start. As I hammered out his beats, I only allowed material that hit on that premise. His call to adventure comes to him as a dream; he wakes knowing that he must return to the mountain. His Act II begins when he sets out to drive back from Miami to Washington state. The Ending. What I find very important in outlining is getting a sense of the ending. I don’t always have a clear vision, but even a taste helps. Maybe one specific detail or a scene where I see him awakening, see him defeating his monsters. You take his flaw—his issue—which in this case is not trusting that Red Mountain can thrive without him, and ask what his overcoming it might look like. Let’s assume that he can finally let go of his leadership position and become a sideman on the Red Mountain stage. That possibility leads me to believe that as he returns to Red Mountain, he’ll first try to micromanage everyone, driving everyone mad as he tries to get the mountain back on track. By the end though, I keep seeing him settling on a piece of land on the backside of Red Mountain and being happy in a simpler state, laying down his arms, like a retired general. That gives me a pretty good idea of some beats that I can add into his timeline. The Arc. Regarding Otis’s growth throughout: in the beginning, he’s desperately missing Red Mountain and sure that if he doesn’t get back, the mountain will fall apart and everything he’s worked for, for many years, will prove to be a waste. It’s gonna get ugly in the first part of Act II as he tries to save everyone. But around the midpoint, he might realize that he can’t save everyone, that it’s not about him anyway. He’s just one of the cogs in the wheel. Still, that won’t be easy, especially when he feels like everyone around him is drowning. The second part of the book will be about him coming to truly believe that he has to let go and that the mountain and its inhabitants will be okay without him carrying every bit of the weight. Along with the external story, the internal story kicks into a higher gear. What all these troubles are really about is his ongoing grief for his sons, wishing he’d done more for them, feeling like he failed them. See how this thinking can help you refine your story beats as the story moves along? Sketching out desires and obstacles. He wants to save and protect Red Mountain and its inhabitants. Things that could get in the way: * COVID - a huge issue for the food and bev and hospitality industries. So many ways to go. Restaurants can’t buy wine; no one is visiting the tasting rooms. And what about people on the mountain getting sick? * Otis sold his land and is homeless. He wants nothing more than to make wine again, but there’s no land for sale. * A time-traveling gladiator challenges him to a to-the-death brawl. Nah, that’s not germane. But it would be fun! * A new bad guy. How about the son of a bad guy in a previous novel? Ah, yes. * Brooks, his mentee and closest person he has to a living son, is struggling both emotionally and with the vineyard he bought from Otis, but Brooks doesn’t want his help. * Brooks has not taken on the leadership role on the mountain, so the community is warring with each other. There is no common vision. * A new pest or disease that could affect the vines. * Otis’s or his partner’s health become compromised, outside of the COVID threat. I could go on forever. Once I have a good list, then I can pick through for favorites, organize by escalation, and then see how they would play out over the course of the story. Each one could be a whole story if I wanted. There you go, more cards to fill out! Other scenes that need a home. Another way to fill in the empty boxes is to capture any random scenes that might be floating around in your head. I always have a few ideas that will happen somewhere, but I’m not sure where. I’ll just plug them in as best I can. For example, a scene with Otis howling at the moon naked is a sure bet at some point; it’s a part of who he is and a reader favorite. I know that Otis needs to have a fight with his mentee, Brooks, which will crush him as he feels like he’s letting down yet another son. The ultimate way for that to climax is for Brooks to shout that he doesn’t need him. That will knock Otis down to the studs. Which means that’s likely a good dark night of the soul spot, the place where the worst things happen. Also, I know that there will be a scene where Otis gives Brooks some very powerful advice; I’ve already written down the dialogue. I put that somewhere on the timeline towards the end, and again, I can shift it later. I mentioned plotters can insert some complexity into early drafts. Here’s an example: Say we know something about the end, such as Otis and Brooks’s inevitable fight. What can we do to layer in pieces that will make that fight hurt more? Considering their father/son relationship, I will definitely thread in early on Otis’s grieving for his dead sons, and I’ll make it clear how much it hurts that he let them down. I’ll also make sure the reader sees that he considers Brooks a son from the early chapters. And I’ll gradually build the tension between the two men all the way through. By the time the big fight happens, it should be inevitable. Pantsers can’t always do that as easily. Every POV character needs such attention. Follow this process with each of your POV characters. You can even do it to important non-POV characters. It can only enrich your story. As you go, consider the other characters and how they will interact with each other. There will be a scene where Brooks refuses to let Otis taste his wines, as he’s ashamed. That will impact Otis, but it’s certainly a big internal issue with Brooks. I need to choose where that scene will fall as far as point of view. And I know it’ll happen early in Act II. Brooks’s moment of dissolution will certainly tie in with the scene when he shouts at Otis and tells him he doesn’t need him. That’ll be both of their low points. Because that scene applies to both of them, I will have to decide which POV will cover it best. Unless we see it from both POVs, I can remove the block from one of their timelines to simplify. Now what? Once I have a general beat sketch of each of the characters, I go back and visit the important beats. Where does the midpoint fall? I’m hoping that the midpoint of each of the characters will fall closely to each other. I like that, similar to how the climaxes all come together. In fact, if I can, I’d like all of them to experience their climaxes in the same room. That’s not always the case, but it serves the reader well if you can pull it off. Once you’ve done your best, take a day or two, then revisit. Follow the story though the beats. Is there a natural cause and effect flow? Does it escalate in tension? Is there a proper payoff? Does the character grow in a nice arc? And then… There is a time when you must start writing, and so much reveals itself only then. The plot that you created needs to be incredibly fluid. If you’re suddenly in your character’s head and something doesn’t feel right, go in a different direction. Let the character and your intuition steer. Typically I’ll go at it for a hundred pages until things start to feel like they’re falling off the tracks, and then I’ll pause and say, “okay, now that I’ve seen who these characters really are and what’s actually going on, once I’m immersed into the details of the story, I’m gonna spend a few days tweaking the beats.” I might have gotten their flaw wrong, perhaps guessed the wrong ending. And I will pivot. Don’t be afraid to pivot, friends. It’s not always pretty, the process. It shouldn’t be! We’re all hacking away, trying to find the pretty. Create a path, then start moving your fingers. Recalibrate the plan, then back to moving fingers. Do that over and over, and you will soon have a book in hand. Hold on, that didn’t feel exciting enough. Do what I’m suggesting, and by Gods, you will defeat your demons, defy all odds, experience moments of blissful flow, and end up with a book in hand that has your name on the bloody cover! God speed. boo Drowning in Words is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Drowning in Words at boowalker.substack.com/subscribe [https://boowalker.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

1 de jun de 202653 min
episode Recent favorites artwork

Recent favorites

I’ve finally made it to our summer hideaway on Peaks Island, here in Maine, and as always, I find myself set free in so many ways. There’s a lot to worry about out there in the big blue blistering blur of life, a lot of ways to conjure fear. It all falls away as I step onto the ferry to leave the mainland. If you’re ever up here, come find me. I’d love to break bread with you, so long as you’re good people. I’ll share pics of the last few days below, but first, let me get into some lovely art that’s landed into my life lately. Let’s start with the book world. Ridley Scott has made a film adaption of Peter Heller’s The Dog Stars [https://amzn.to/49wBKiP], which is a post-apocalyptic book that’s been on my TBR pile for far too long. Years, in fact. I’m halfway through and so so into this book. He’s a tremendous writer, a sort of Hemingway-esque vibe, coarse and virile, but there’s a gentleness too. And his imagining of what happens after a flu kills most of the population will definitely keep you tearing through pages. Have you read it? I know, I know. Surprise, boo is talking more about end-of-times books. Sorry, not sorry. The movie hits theaters in August, so plenty of time to read first. I highly endorse this wonderful novel. Quick side story: director Ridley Scott’s television person reached out to me a few years back about adapting my Red Mountain series. That, my friends, was a wonderful day and an agonizing few weeks as we chatted a bit, and I waited for a big fat green light. Alas, nothing came of it, but that only means Red Mountain [https://amzn.to/4ujsdDR] is waiting for a better time to find the screen. I feel it coming soon! Are you watching Your Friends & Neighbors on HBO? What a show; what a cast! The second season is total fire, and I feel almost guilty as I delight in how toxic and unhinged this crew of Westchester, NY high-society misfits has become. Now, music! As I mentioned, the Newport Jazz Festival [https://newportjazz.org/] is my spirit place, and I’m getting to know this summer’s lineup. I’d not heard of Gotts Street Park [https://www.instagram.com/gottsstreetpark/?hl=en] before, a jazzy soul group from Leeds, but they’ve climbed the boo charts in NASA fashion. Check out some of their work with these killer female singers, Pip Millet and Celeste. For real, crank these tunes up and tell me if your soul doesn’t start dancing. Yeah, that’s right. Doesn’t get much better than that. Celeste is going to be at Newport too, so I’m hoping they all share the stage together. Anyone else going? Last and least, here’s what’s happening in my world. My mom and the one other wonderful person who listen to the audio versions of these missives will be over the moon to know that I recorded an into and outro with my acoustic guitar that will now be included on all further podcasts, starting with this one. Don’t fear, I’m not getting all professional. It’ll still be unedited and an unfiltered mess, but I just had an urge to write a couple of catchy jingles, what my friend Charlie has taught me is called bumper music. You can listen by hitting the play button above or via my Drowning in Words podcast on Spotify [https://open.spotify.com/show/7eT5GbBUYyTEtYRbgU4eZr] and Apple [https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/boo-walkers-drowning-in-words/id1871330758], which will have the latest episode up shortly. My agent came back with edits for my work-in-progress, Salvation Isle, and she’s thrilled with what I’ve done. She’s most certainly lying, but it’s the encouragement I needed to take this baby home. I have a July 15th deadline and feeling beyond wonderful about this story. You have NO IDEA what’s coming. For you writers and readers who like craft talk, I have some good ones on deck, so stay tuned. Much love from Peaks and thanks for letting me share, boo Drowning in Words is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Drowning in Words at boowalker.substack.com/subscribe [https://boowalker.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

20 de may de 202610 min
episode A deleted chapter resurrected! artwork

A deleted chapter resurrected!

There are times when I think I should be locked into a straitjacket, and this morning is one of those (as you’ll see if you opt for the audio version of this missive). I’m toying around with a new Red Mountain novel, and a new bad guy has surfaced…a real peach of a guy with cruel intentions. I’m plotting from his POV and pondering how I might destroy the mountain and its inhabitants. It’s slightly disturbing how much joy fueling my inner darkness is bringing out of me. Fingers steepled, maniacal cackle, while truly feeling into what it would be like to boil over with hatred, desperate to realize my revenge. My goodness, what a job, my friends. I’ll be doing this till they put me in the ground, or so I pray. Anywho, I’m delighted to share a gift with you today. I don’t know that I’ll ever love writing a character more than Whitaker Grant, the star of my 2020 novel, An Unfinished Story [https://amzn.to/4eywoa5], and it was so nice to jump back into his head as I revisited a wacky acupuncture-gone-wrong scene that my editor and agent cut during the dev edits. How dare they!! If you remember, the opening of the book is Whitaker headed to his nephew’s birthday party. Originally, he was off to meet his extended family at a community acupuncture clinic. I’d come up with the idea while going through the experience myself in St. Pete, Florida, and it so cracked me up. But I suppose it was a bit much for my team. Maybe they were right. What do you think? If you choose to listen to me read the passage via the play button above or through my podcast feed on Apple [https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/boo-walkers-drowning-in-words/id1871330758] or Spotify [https://open.spotify.com/show/7eT5GbBUYyTEtYRbgU4eZr], apologies in advance for my abysmal accents! Otherwise, here it is: The Lost Chapter from An Unfinished Story [https://amzn.to/4eywoa5] Whitaker’s mother, Sadie, ushered the extended family—the whole crazy bunch of them—inside the doors of the community acupuncture clinic, where they were all to join together in a collective holistic experience. In other words, they were paying actual money to sit together, which was torture enough, and have some hippie jab them with needles. Who in God’s name would have ever thought of such a business? The youthfully enthusiastic receptionist passed out clipboards of paperwork, and someone from each household scribbled in silence. Whitaker finished first and approached the large world map on the wall, thinking of all the places he’d rather be. Guantanamo. Syria. Stuck in northern Virginia traffic. A funeral. He’d even rather be facing his computer and trying to work through the first draft of his new project, which was still nothing more than a blank screen. A protagonist simply floating around in his head, not offering a plot, a point, simply knocking around like a pinball, each ping reminding Whitaker that he’d never amount to anything more than what he’d accomplished with his first book. Eventually, the receptionist led them through a beaded door into the next room for treatment. With spa music setting the mood, the Grant family took seats in the blanket-covered recliners at the far end, as far away from the other clients as possible. Whitaker settled in his chair and glanced at the rest of his family, who were fiddling with the wooden handles on the sides, finding their most comfortable positions. A dainty man with a long thin braid and a bounce in his step approached them and introduced himself as Damon, the acupuncturist. “Have you all been here before?” He had the warm and gentle disposition of Mr. Rogers and could break into song at any moment. Where were Big Bird and Kermit? Sadie took charge and squealed, “Just me!” Whitaker had to give it to her. Her optimism was almost infectious, though more than forty years of evidence otherwise assured a less than desirable outcome. Whitaker, on the other hand, could barely contain his urge to leave. Nevertheless, in the spirit of “family time,” he kicked off his flip-flops, sat back, and listened to their practitioner’s short spiel. Damon ended with, “Everyone sit back, close your eyes, and relax. I’ll get to you one at a time. You can hang around as long as you’d like. Please, no talking. When you’re finished, raise your hand and I’ll come to you.” Whitaker raised his hand. “Too soon?” When the acupuncturist looked toward him, Whitaker flashed a happy rack of teeth. Sadie swung a Popeye arm in the air and said (for perhaps the thousandth time this decade), “Witty Whitaker strikes again!” The rest of the family laughed dutifully and uncomfortably. Whitaker didn’t dare look at his father, but he could feel the headshake of disappointment. No man could say more in an entire monologue than Jack Grant could say with this dominating gesture. The only thing they had in common, other than the toxic DNA, was their equal desire to get this over with as quickly as possible. Attempting to push aside his daddy problems, Whitaker closed his eyes. Every few minutes, he’d take a quick peek to see Damon moving his cart of needles down the line, working his way from one family member to the next. There might have been some mild pleasure in watching his siblings get jabbed. When it was finally Whitaker’s turn, Damon pushed the cart his way and asked in a whisper, “How can I help today? What’s wrong?” Whitaker looked at the shiny needles on the cart and cracked into a laugh. “I’m mentally deranged, depressed, and suffering from severe tension all over my body. Not to mention father issues.” He not so subtly pointed at Jack, who glared at him from ten feet away with dark and angry eyes that were always shaded by his veteran cap. “And my creative constipation could be likened to that of an old man who hasn’t taken a proper shit in a week. My spine consistently feels like it’s about to snap at any moment, and—hmmm. My wife left. I’m stuck in one-hit wonderland and can’t seem to…. How long do you have? You’re going to need more needles.” Damon offered a sweet smile. “Let’s start with the tension in the shoulders.” “Great idea.” Ten minutes later, Whitaker was doing his best to relax. Had he been by himself, he might have thoroughly enjoyed the experience, but something about relaxing and family didn’t mix well. Breaking the silence of the room, Jack whispered to Whitaker, “How’s the new job?” “It’s… it’s a job. It’s fine.” Someone in the family shushed them, but Jack plowed forward. “You’re still advising?” “Yep.” Jack chuckled. “What kind of world do we live in where Whitaker Grant advises people on anything? Jesus, when I grew up, you had to be good at your job or you failed. What in God’s name do you know about financial advising?” “Am I supposed to answer that?” Whitaker wondered if he could pluck the needle from his forearm and send it like a dart at his father’s cheek. “Advising,” Jack said, shaking his head. Whitaker’s muscles tightened. He almost took the bait but let it slide. The last thing he wanted to do was start a public war. As is the case with such established roots, everyone knew the Grants. Though Sadie didn’t mind public spectacles, Whitaker despised them. Saving the day, Damon came over in his regal bounce to check on them. “Everyone doing okay?” After a collective nod, he asked, “Do you mind holding it down, please? There’s no talking in here.” Another nod from the Grant family, and Damon returned to his office to go smoke a hookah or whatever it was he liked to do. Father wasn’t done. “You know, I have to ask, Whitaker. Do you think you can hold onto this job for longer than a week? Your grandfather had the same job for fifty years. I’m on my second. Why is it all you kids these days feel like you have to find your calling? Why can’t you accept that working sucks and that you just have to get over it?” “First of all, I’m not a kid, Dad.” Whitaker realized how loud he’d spoken and backed off. “Second of all, just because your life sucks doesn’t mean all our lives have to suck.” “Forgive me, Son, but remind me which part of your life doesn’t suck.” Whitaker bit his tongue. As he adjusted in his seat, a needle in the top of his foot stung a nerve, and he winced. “Find your calling,” his father said. “That’s the worst gibberish ever uttered. I’d love to sit in the room when you advise those clients. Do you tell them to go write a book? Go chase their dreams? Follow their heart?” Sadie typically tried to let things play out, but this time she chose to interject. “Boys, let’s keep this civil.” Jack turned to her. “Where did I fail, Sadie? What did I do wrong in raising this kid?” “That’s enough, Jack.” She raised her hands in prayer. “We’re supposed to be contributing to the collective energy of the room.” Whitaker laughed. “Oh, I think we are, Mom.” Jack turned to Whitaker. “If you had just stayed away from writing that damned novel of yours, your life would be so much better. But no, you had to get a taste of being an artist and happened to pen something that a bunch of bonehead literary blowhards liked. You thought life after that so-called “masterpiece” would be easy. Someone even called you a national treasure, didn’t they? Give me a break. Your grandfather was a national treasure. He fought in the war. What did you do worth the toilet paper that he used to wipe his ass in the trenches in Africa?” Whitaker noticed Damon softly racing back toward them. Pitter, patter, pitter, patter. “You’ve really kept this bottled up, haven’t you, Pop? Let it out, old man. Exorcise the hurt inside. I think Damon is coming to tell you that he likes the energy you’re sharing with the rest of us. I know I do. Always glad to be dropped back into the jungles of ‘Nam.” Jack let out a grunt. “It does feel good. It’s about time someone tells you the truth. That novel and everything around it turned you into a fairy. A little creative fairy. And now you sit around waiting for your next work of genius to come to you. How’s that going? How long’s it been? Ten years. Let me clue you in. You’re out of words, buddy. That fairy-tale world you’re living in is only going to bring you more and more pain. No wonder Olivia left you.” “Jack!” Sadie said. “Stop it!” A plea from his younger sister followed. Damon tried to intervene again. Gently asserting himself, he said, “Folks, please, no talking. I can’t have it.” It was all quiet on the western front till he walked away, then Jack said to Sadie, “We failed as parents. But never once did I tell your son to chase his dreams. Not once!” “Please, sir,” Damon said, appearing out of nowhere. “Shut your hole, soldier!” Damon nearly fell backwards. Whitaker and his brother laughed at the same time, and Whitaker almost started singing the Mr. Rogers theme song. Damon, still want to be my neighbor? It wasn’t actually funny, and Whitaker felt for the kid for being sucked into the Grant hurricane. Jack fired a finger at Whitaker. “You’re a one-hit wonder. A washed-up wreck of a man.” And, he added, “Olivia was always too good for you anyway.” Whitaker felt like a blowfish expanding to the point where the needles might start shooting out of him. Other members of the family encouraged Jack to let it go. Realizing he was out of his element, Damon stood silently with his arms crossed, staring at Jack. “I had a dream,” Jack said, “that one day my son would get it together. That he’d accept—” “And now he’s Martin Luther King,” Whitaker announced, the loudest words yet to fill the room. “Tell me about your dream, Mr. King!” Jack gritted his teeth, then spat out, “I had a dream that one day you’d let go of this writing thing and learn how to work for a living. Get a job. Go to the gym. Pull yourself together. And get out of your goddamned head.” “That’s a lofty dream, Dad. Why don’t you start with being a good role model?” “Why can’t you be like your sister? Or even your brother! They at least understand that life’s not some polished piece of glass you slide around on. Life is a ragged edge.” “Oh, I assure you,” Whitaker started, “I know all about the ragged edge. You might be a piece-of-shit father, but you taught me all about the ragged edge. I’ve got the scars to prove it.” “Don’t speak to me that way,” Jack said, his face reddening. Much more and the needles would start shooting out of his skin. “Do you hear yourself?” Whitaker asked. “You definitely left part of your brain in Saigon.” Jack shook his head but didn’t respond. “Oh, you’re out of words now?” Whitaker asserted. “Is it my turn?” Jack waited, a smirk surfacing. He loved a good battle. Whitaker drew in a long breath. “Never mind. I don’t need to stoop to this.” “I should have thrown that computer out the window. You and all your books growing up. I failed.” “Maybe you did, Dad. But I do have another book in me. Mark my words.” “Oh, here we go. Are we writing again?” Whitaker was losing it. Damon tried again. “Folks, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Jack warned, “You stay out of this, boy.” Damon turned away with a frustrated pivot, muttering that he was calling the cops. Whitaker jumped in louder this time. “I’m always writing. I’m just having to wade through all the shit you put me through to find the right words.” “Okay, Sherlock, so while the rest of the world goes to work, you’re wading through your dad’s shit looking for words. Let me tell you the truth. You got lucky and stumbled upon a novel. There won’t be another one. You can stare at your computer jacking off all day long. You had your time in the spotlight. Now it’s time to join the rest of us in the real world.” “You know,” Whitaker said, watching Damon apologize to the other clients, “even the slightest encouragement over the years from you might have saved me. But something inside of you is so royally dismantled. That war took the human out of you, and it’s slowly taking it out of me too.” “There it is,” Jack growled. “Still can’t take responsibility. I had very little to do with creating your joke of a life.” Lowering his voice, Whitaker said, “I can’t stand you. Nobody can. Don’t you see that, Dad?” He looked at his mom, who was fighting tears. “Don’t act surprised, Mom.” Then he raised his hand, shouting across the room at Damon, who was now on his phone. “I’m done here. Will you take these needles out?” “One moment, please,” he said, with an impressive politeness considering he was on the phone with 911. “There he goes,” Jack said. “Time to start running. My little fairy named Whitney. Run away, young lady.” “Screw you, Dad.” Jack shook his head. With needles running up and down his legs, like Pinhead from Hellraiser, Whitaker stood. He couldn’t wait for Damon. He had to get out of there. “Sir,” Damon yelled from across the room, “let me take the needles out.” Whitaker brushed him away and said to Jack, “I’m going to walk out of here before I throw a punch. But don’t think you won. You’re a sad old man with a family that for some reason has let you hang around. But don’t think we’re going to keep putting up with it forever. Your funeral will be a lonely event.” “Don’t say that to your father,” Sadie begged. “Oh, let him take his punches, honey. They fall like limp-wristed slaps.” Whitaker had not anticipated how much the needles would hurt as he moved. He plucked the ones he could get to and tossed them to the ground as he offered apologies around the room. Though Whitaker was simply preoccupied with pain, Jack took it as being ignored. “There he goes, fucking up another family excursion. Been doing that since he was in diapers.” It was all Whitaker could do not to flip the recliner backwards. Instead, though, because he was one of the only sane ones in the family, he bit back his words, held back his rage, and turned to go. His foot caught an edge of the carpet, and he tumbled. Had he gotten all the needles, he would have been fine, but he’d missed a few and at least two or three jutted deeper into his skin. He howled in pain. Damon was there in an instant, scrambling to save the day. Everyone in the room, all of them stuck with needles, a whole lot of fucking Pinheads, watched with mouths agape. Sadie begged for it all to stop. And Jack, the great soldier, the patriarch of this botched crew of humans, broke into a belly laugh that captured exactly everything wrong with Whitaker Grant. “I want out,” Whitaker whispered to himself, the pain pulling tears from his eyes. “I just want out.” Thanks for reading, amigos. Much love from Maine. Talk to you soon. Get full access to Drowning in Words at boowalker.substack.com/subscribe [https://boowalker.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

12 de may de 202623 min
episode The rooster on the bleachers is a vampire artwork

The rooster on the bleachers is a vampire

Who else is watching Rooster on HBO? How about the last season of Shrinking? We’re a bit behind with Shrinking, but it’s one of my favorite shows of all time—the perfect dramedy. As I was jumping into an episode of Rooster with Steve Carell last night, I realized that Bill Lawrence, the producer behind Shrinking, Scrubs, and Ted Lasso, is also responsible for this new show. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I adore a story that makes you laugh and cry in equal measure. Dear storyteller, just toy with my heart, and I’m all yours… Do you know Jack Antonoff [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_Antonoff#:~:text=Jack%20Michael%20Antonoff%20(born%20March,the%20lead%20vocalist%20of%20the] and his band, Bleachers [https://store.bleachersmusic.com/]? I went to see them on a whim a couple of years ago here in Portland, and it was pure heaven. Jack’s one of the most successful and talented music producers in history, working with the likes of Taylor Swift and Lorde and Kendrick Lamar, but it’s in this band where he lets it all out. The guy’s a preacher on stage, and he turns the audience into a congregation. It was such an immersive experience, and I find myself comparing all concerts to it. They have a new album called Everyone for Ten Minutes [https://music.apple.com/us/album/everyone-for-ten-minutes/1872842313] coming out May 22nd, and it’s sure to be a killer. I don’t know that there are many people out there with more creativity running through them. Though it would probably be somewhat awkward, I’d kill to have dinner with him and pick his brain. Here’s a taste from their show on Howard. I had no idea I needed a queer vampire novel in my life, but I sure as hell did. It took me a while to take down V.E. Schwab’s new one, Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil [https://amzn.to/4tgisoC], only because it’s a tome and I’m deep into a new project, but it’s WONDERFUL. And I thought her previous release, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue [https://amzn.to/4esf0DR], would never be topped. They’re certainly equal, at least. She’s a master, plain and simple. Makes me want to hang it up. And where have vampires been all my life? I don’t know if I’ve even read Anne Rice before, but I’m opening all my windows and doors and welcoming in all the fictional vampires now. Okay, dream dinner: Bill Lawrence, Jack Antonoff, and V.E. Schwab. Who’s in? How many of us are introverts? Could be weird… What should I read next in the vampire/fantasy/horror world? I’m a newbie. Don’t forget to come find me on Instagram [https://www.instagram.com/boowalkerbooks/]. There is almost twenty-thousand people following me now. I can’t believe it! Yesterday, I shared my rediscovered love of dictating first drafts while on the treadmill. AI has made it remarkably easier. Now, you can drive by my house and wave at the lunatic in the window regaling himself with exciting new stories told in unbearably awful accents. My wife holds her phone up to the door to prove to her friends that she married a madman. What questions do you have for me? I’d love to answer them in my next reel. Okay, with a few weeks to go till I need to return my focus to Salvation Isle, I’m off to the races with a new Red Mountain [https://amzn.to/49tYsI1] story. We’ll see how far I get. It was beyond delightful to sneak back into Margot’s world yesterday to see what she’s up to. And Otis, oh my God. He never ceases to shock and awe me. Thanks to those who gave me ideas for the new story, and big congratulations to the winners of my raffle: Natosha, Miselle, and Neil. Next time, I’ll share a lost chapter from An Unfinished Story [https://amzn.to/48DnhkG] that I still wish had made it into the final publication. The protagonist, Whitaker Grant, will always be my favorites of my creations. For those of you who have been listening to my audio of these musings, you’ll get a real treat when I dramatize it. Much love, boo Drowning in Words is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Drowning in Words at boowalker.substack.com/subscribe [https://boowalker.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

5 de may de 202610 min