What’s a writer for?

What’s a writer for? What good do we do? Do we just march forward, puking our subconscious clutter onto the page – molding it and trying to make it mean something? Some people read it. OK. I always wanted to be a writer. Now, that I am, I sometimes find myself wondering what I want to be now. What’s next?

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Tuesday Tutorial: Tweet-Crafting for Fun and Profit

Now that Twitter has turned six, you probably know what to do with that little window. Fill it with 140 characters and send your virtual carrier pigeon aloft, right? But if your tweets plummet and die, you may have to work a little harder. Try these tips to write better tweets that get seen, clicked, and retweeted more often.
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Feed Your Readers

“Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are.” – Brillat-Savarin

Title page, translated, of "The Physiology of Taste", by Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin

Do you agree? I do. That is, of course, if you have the choice to consume whatever your little heart desires. Honore de Balzac was famous for the meals he consumed after the proofs of his novels were sent off to his publisher – his choice of a celebratory meal beginning with dozens of freshly shucked oysters washed down with beer. This appetizer merely whetted his craving for the ensuing feast. The school of French realism, populated with such greats as Balzac, Flaubert, Maupassant, Dumas and Zola glorified the sensual pleasure of a meal well-cooked and consumed with appreciative abandon. Can we transfer this love of food to our modern day novel and seduce our readers as these masters seduced theirs? Continue reading “Feed Your Readers”

The American Robin: Hatched from Evil

Author KSBrooks Looking for a Robin-Free Zone
Author K. S. Brooks in Search of a Robin-Free Zone in the Arctic

Everyone loves robins. They symbolize the first sign of Spring. People delight over their teal colored eggs. And there is always excitement when their young start peeping in the nest.

Not me. I loathe them. Even the scientific name for the American Robin is heinous: Turdus migratorius. Let me translate that for you – it means they crap everywhere.

And everywhere is the key. In 1996 I traveled all the way to Alaska to photograph Grizzly Bears and Orcas (killer whales). After two long days on the water, I docked at the port of Valdez without seeing an Orca. The disappointment was staggering. When I arrived at the bed and breakfast, there was a large bird to the left of the driveway. It was too far away for me to ascertain its species. My heart jumped with the great anticipation of identifying my first sub-arctic land bird. I whipped out my 300 mm lens and clicked off four photos. As I did not want to frighten away this mystery bird, I crept in a couple of feet and shot some more. A few more steps, a few more frames, and before you know it I had rifled off nearly an entire roll of film. Finally, I was close enough to get a good look at this bird: it was a @#^&* robin! I had traveled all the way to the other end of the United States of America to see a robin? After wasting a roll of film on this common bird, I was steamed. And no, I never saw a Grizzly, either. Continue reading “The American Robin: Hatched from Evil”