Showing posts with label NaNoWriMo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NaNoWriMo. Show all posts

Friday, November 27, 2009

National Novel Writing Month: Completed! with an overview

I finished off the very, very rough first draft of "I don't know if I love you (but I might)" at 50,024 words. This is my third year doing this. I've completed each time. This was by far the most difficult year. I searched the manuscript for something that I could excerpt out here. But there was nothing I really liked. So here is the story pitch:


Jay Boudreaux and David Goldman are driving from DC to New Orleans for Jay's father's funeral. Jay's father, Bubba Boudreaux, was a big man in New Orleans, well loved, but with a troubling past marked by alcoholism and strained relations with his wife, Sally Boudreaux. Passing through Greensboro, Jay and David get into an accident with a motorcycle driven by Sara Smith (the one character I carried over from last year's "The Duke of Sunrises"). Sara goes into a coma, and Jay and David decide to wait it out in the hospital.

Sara is stuck between life and death in something akin to the afterlife-- set in a 1950's federal building with bad florescent lighting and mismatched furniture. There she meets Bubba Boudreaux, who is being guided through his first days in the afterlife by Mason, who has been here for a few thousand years.

The back story on Sara is that she was running from DC after the death of the man she was living with, Aaron Washington. Aaron was an artist who had found recent success in the DC art scene and then committed suicide by metro train.

Sara is treated by Dr. Amir Sindh, who is completely incompetent, but who has a brilliant record of diagnosis and treatment because he is constantly accompanied by the soul of his grandmother, Zayd, who won't allow him to make a mistake. He fumbles through and finds the correct diagnosis for Sara and saves her life.

In Greensboro, David attends an AA meeting and meets two characters who are bound together by ancient history: Mr. Deacon and Missus Circe. I'll admit it here: Mr. Deacon was my favorite character. I based him on Anansi. Note: if you're writing something and can't seem to make it work, put Anansi in your story-- he can do damn near anything. A large portion of the story is about Deacon and Circe-- in reality, they originally were slaves in New Orleans who have been alive since the 1600's. Part of their history bases their relationship on love/hate, but they are inseparable on this earth.

I don't want to ruin everything, but Deacon and Circe end up being instrumental in Sara Smith coming out of her coma. There is a connection between Missus Circe and Aaron Washington, Sara's dead lover. When it is over, Missus Circe passes away.

After Sara comes out of the coma, Jay and David continue on down to New Orleans for Bubba Boudreaux's funeral only to find that Deacon has beat them to NOLA, where he is consoling his old friend and Jay's mother, Sally Boudreaux. Jay, David, Deacon, and Sally attend Bubba's funeral, where we find out that Deacon (Anansi) is able to move freely between this world and the afterlife, which makes for a little comedy with Bubba Boudreaux, the deceased.

At the end of the book, Sara Smith is back in DC, trying to piece her life back together. David and Jay are just arriving in DC, and a friendship with possibilities has struck up between David and Sara. Bubba and Missus Circe spend time in the afterlife together accompanied by Aaron Washington. And Deacon is somewhere-- not tied to any one place or any one life.

I really don't know what to do with this story. If it is like the two previous stories, it will sit on my hard disk and that will be that. I feel like I never want to look at the story again, but I just finished it today and am a little sick of it. I also know that some of my best writing went into this draft. In any case, I'm very proud and very happy to be finished.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

National Novel Writing Month: Excerpt

My buddy Johnny asked me to post an excerpt from my ongoing submission to National Novel Writing Month. I'm a little over 13,000 words into it. The working title is, "I don't know if I love you (but I might)":


Sally Boudreaux held the funeral announcement in her hands and shook her head in disbelief. Boudreaux was possibly one of the most common names in New Orleans; hell, it might just be the most common name. Boudreauxs had been some of the first settlers of this god forsaken place, had probably worked some of the first ships to land at the port of New Orleans four hundred years ago, had most likely populated just about every square mile from the French Quarter to the Lake Pontchartrain. Boudreaux was a pretty damn popular name in New Orleans.

And those dumb sons-of-a-bitches had misspelled Boudreaux on her husband’s funeral announcements. Boudreax.

What the hell was she going to do?

She’d have to deal with it. She’d have to deal with every damned thing. Larry and Michelle would mean well, but they had five kids to take care of—five! And her other son, Jay… well, Jay.

Sally put down the funeral announcement and looked down into her coffee cup. Jay.

She had finished the cup and stood to get a refill. It occurred to her that she could walk down to The Last Drop and have someone make breakfast for her. But Sally just was not ready for all of her neighbors who frequented The Last Drop to sympathize with her, to crowd around her to see if she was doing all right.

She was doing all right. Of course she was doing all right. Bubba Boudreaux—not Boudreax—had been a miserable son-of-a-bitch who had two-timed Sally miserably. He had been drunk and disorderly in just about every bar on Bourbon Street, had gotten his sorry ass thrown out of places it was damn near impossible to get thrown out of, and had gotten her woken up to bail him out of the parish drunk tank more times than she liked to imagine. Things had taken a turn for the better the day that Bubba Boudreaux—not Boudreax—had finally kicked the bucket with an esophageal hemorrhage. She hoped it hurt. She hoped it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.

Sally held the funeral announcement to her face and sobbed into it, the ink staining her cheeks.

Friday, February 6, 2009

FAWM: Three new songs written

I've written three songs so far for February Album Writing Month (FAWM). I'm pretty happy with them and have posted them to the music player on this blog.

Quantcast
FAWM is pretty similar to National Novel Writing Month, in which I've participated two years running. The idea behind FAWM is to write (and ideally record) 14 songs in the month of February.


I know this is all crazy-- I try not to be so naive that I think that I'm creating an actual "album", any more than my two "novel" manuscripts are anything more than first drafts.  But there really is something that simply feels nice about having a couple of songs completed, songs that no one else wrote.  And it's a lot more writing than I've done recently-- before last year's FAWM, my last song was one I wrote to get Sonia to marry me (it worked) and before that my heaviest production time was when I was in Peace Corps.  In 1992.  In Seychelles.  That's too far back.

The point of all of this is simple: like most things, the only way to get better at writing is to write.  The evidence is clear.  My second novel manuscript is a hell of a lot better than my first.  And the songs I've written so far this year are just better than the ones I wrote last year.  

Most people have trouble writing because they are so ashamed of their first attempts.  They write something, then the next day they read it and realize that it's not perfect and then they hide the thing and never try to write again.  I have an advantage here because I lack what my wife Sonia calls el sentido del ridículo: the sense of the ridiculous.  This probably would best be translated as "I have no shame".  I don't get embarrassed easily.  Or rather, I do, but somehow I have the ability to swallow hard and press on.   This also made learning Spanish easier.  I'm pretty sure I left a sturdy swatch of laughing Spaniards in my wake when I first moved to Spain (ask me about the cone of chocolate ice cream some time, I'm amazed I ever lived that one down).

As far as the novel, I actually found someone to edit it, a West Point grad (I try not to hold that against my editor).  I'll get a look at it when the editing is over and see if there is anything to be done for it.

Friday, November 28, 2008

NaNoWriMo: The Duke of Sunrises: Excerpt

All right, I've gotten some heat from a few of my friends about not posting an excerpt from The Duke of Sunrises. I don't think I should, really. I just finished the first draft at lunch today, it certainly has about a year's work necessary before I should let anyone read it. Anyway, I picked one of the story arcs from the manuscript and am putting it here. I'll warn you: parts of it are a bit rough, as in, don't read this to grandma. Don't say I didn't warn you. Oh, yeah, Rhee Myung Ran is a relatively minor character in the book. I really didn't mean for her to have such a big backstory. Oh well:


Chapter Fifteen

Rhee Myung Ran had come to the United States from Pohang , Korea , thirty-two years before. She had grown up in a small farming community near Gyeongju and had dreamed of running away to Seoul . Her mother had died when Myung Ran was twelve, and she was left to work the farm, trying to attend school as best she could. But her father had not seen much benefit in putting her through school. Myung Ran’s father sank further and further into a depression after Myung Ran’s mother died. Eventually he had begun to gamble at bars in Pohang . And he began to lose money.

Finally some men came one night when Myung Ran was fourteen years old. The men had banged on the door and called out Myung Ran’s Father’s name. Myung Ran pulled the covers over her head in the bedroom and shivered as she listened to her father pleading with the men. Finally the door to Myung Ran’s room crashed open, and a very large man known only as Mr. Kim stood in the doorway and pointed at Myung Ran. “Her! She will pay your debt, Mr. Rhee. She comes with me. Now!”

Myung Ran had seen her father behind Mr. Kim. His shirt was covered with blood and he was holding his jaw, which seemed somehow misshapen. She tried to pull the covers back over her head, to somehow hide from Mr. Kim, to hide from her father, to hide from the entire world and to pretend that this day had never happened, that the sun had never risen, that her mother had never died, that his father had never gambled.

Mr. Kim’s enormous hand pulled the covers off of her. He pulled Myung Ran out of the bed with one hand and slapped her, hard. “You work for me now. You will come with me. You will stay where I tell you to stay. You will do everything I say to do, with everyone I tell you to do it with. If you fail me in even one instant….” Mr. Kim turned and gave Myung Ran’s father a brutal backhand across the face that made him fall to his knees, weeping. “I will kill your father while you watch, and then I will kill you. Do you understand me?”

“Yes! Yes! I will come with you. Please don’t kill Daddy! Please don’t kill Daddy!”

Rhee Myung Ran sat in the living room of her home in Clarendon , Virginia , looking at her husband, Tommy, sleeping in his recliner with a Korean Bible open on his chest. She had never seen her father again. She knew that he lived somewhere near Gyeongju still. But he had never once tried to come look for her, never once had written her a letter, never once had asked about her. It was as if Myung Ran had ceased to exist for him from the day he sold her into prostitution.

Mr. Kim brought Myung Ran to a night club in Pohang called “Club New Mexico ”. There were twenty girls working in The Club New Mexico, although only a few were ever actually in the club. All of the girls were expected to work by entertaining a customer nine hours of each ten hour shift. Every customer that they entertained paid them forty U.S. Dollars. Of those forty U.S. Dollars, each girl received 700 Korean Wons: the equivalent of 50 U.S. Cents. Myung Ran’s father owed Mr. Kim over 1000 U.S. Dollars. To pay off her father’s debt, Myung Ran would have to entertain over 2000 customers.

Most of Myung Ran’s customers had been U.S. Marines. When she saw a Marine the first time, she had started to cry. They seemed so large and brutish and wore uniforms and huge boots. Surprisingly, the Marines were much gentler than her Korean customers. Many of them wanted to know Myung Ran’s name and where she was from, and why she had decided to come to Pohang . Mr. Kim had told Myung Ran to never tell the Marines how old she was—that she was twenty one if they asked. “The Marines are stupid. They do not know how old any Koreans are. You tell them you are twenty one and they are happy, I am happy, and I do not kill your father. Understood?” Myung Ran understood.

In fact, Myung Ran understood that the Marines were not really interested in her real story. They did not want to know that they were having sex with a fourteen year old girl who was paying off the gambling debts of her father under pain of her father’s death. They did not want to know that Myung Ran’s mother had died, or that she had grown up on a pig farm that smelled of pig feces constantly. They did not want to know that Myung Ran had never been off of the farm and the whore house were she worked.

The Marines wanted to know that Myung Ran had decided to come to work in Pohang because she liked living in a big city. They wanted to know that she enjoyed her life and that she spent her money improving her house and saving up to go to the University. They wanted to know that she was just doing this job until she could go to the University, where she wanted to study to be a nurse. The Marines wanted to know that Myung Ran had visited Seoul , and had gone to Japan , and that one day she wanted to visit the United States of America . They wanted to know that Myung Ran had taken this job as an entertainment girl partially to meet Americans and to learn to speak English.

And the Marines wanted to know that Myung Ran was twenty one.

Myung Ran reached over her husband Tommy’s recliner and gently removed the Bible from his hands. He was snoring softly. She then removed his reading glasses, which were leaving two light red marks on either side of his nose. Myung Ran looked at Tommy. She knew he was not a perfect man. But she loved him and respected him. Tommy had done something that very few Korean men would ever do. Tommy Song had loved her in spite of his suspicions about her past. Tommy Song had respected Myung Ran when Myung Ran had had no respect for herself. Tommy Song had accepted Myung Ran’s stories about being widowed in the United States and had not asked too many questions. Because Myung Ran could only tell so many stories before she stopped believing them herself.

When Myung Ran had turned 17, she only owed Mr. Kim Two Hundred and Fifty U.S. Dollars. She had calculated that if she had three successful U.S. Marine Exercises in the Club New Mexico, she would be able to pay off her father’s debt. And one day, she decided to go to Mr. Kim’s office and tell Mr. Kim that she was preparing to finish paying him.

Mr. Kim did not get angry. He simply opened his filing cabinet, pulled out a large, green U.S. Government ledger, and showed Myung Ran a page with many numbers on it. The numbers were in bright red ink. And they showed that Myung Ran had earned a lot of money for Mr. Kim. A very large amount of money.

But they also showed that Myung Ran had had expenses. Her clothing had been the first expense. The clothing she had worn as a farmer girl would not have been good for entertaining guests. So Mr. Kim had bought clothing for Myung Ran. And he had kept it clean by having a laundry service that he had kindly given to Myung Ran. This too was quite expensive. Also, Mr. Kim had had the option of letting Myung Ran sleep in the street. He had heard that the girls of the Flower Waggon Club had to sleep on the streets, and bad things sometimes happened to those girls. Mr. Kim told Myung Ran that she was very lucky not to work in the Flower Waggon Club, very lucky indeed.

And of course Mr. Kim had paid for Myung Ran’s heat. Her food. Her drinks. Cleaning and electricity were not cheap either. Indeed, Mr. Kim had graciously supplied Myung Ran with the many comforts of life that Myung Ran now enjoyed.

Myung Ran tried to appear cheerful and tried not to let her voice tremble when she asked Mr. Kim how much money she still owed of her father’s gambling debt. Mr. Kim put on his reading glasses then looked at the figure in the ledger, wrote a few more numbers, then pulled out an abacus and did several calculations. He took off his reading glasses and put them on top of the ledger. Then he held his hands in front of his face, his elbows on the desk and his fingertips touching, and told Myung Ran that she now owed him One Thousand Five Hundred U.S. Dollars.

Myung Ran had looked down at the ledger and the reading glasses on top of it. She wanted to grab the ledger and run away. She wanted to take Mr. Kim’s reading glasses and smash them. But she knew that it was pointless. She would be a whore for the rest of her life if she did that. So Myung Ran decided that she would do what many of the Korean Entertainment Girls ended up doing. As she looked down at Mr. Kim’s reading glasses, Myung Ran decided she would make a U.S. Marine fall in love with her. The Marine would pay off Myung Ran’s father’s gambling debt. And Myung Ran would marry the U.S. Marine and move to the United States of America . And after some time, after she had become a U.S. Citizen, Myung Ran would divorce the U.S. Marine. And she would visit Pohang , Korea one more time. And then she would kill Mr. Kim.

Myung Ran reached over and pulled a Kleenex out of the box on the glass end table next to Tommy Song’s end table, and cleaned Tommy’s reading glasses. She put them down on top of the Bible she had laid on the end table.


Chapter Eighteen

Tommy Song walked around the Mercedes Benz in his driveway and checked the pressure of the tires. He checked to ensure that there were no leaves stuck in the grill and that the windshield was very clean. Then he opened the door to their house in Clarendon , Virginia , called to his wife, Myung Ran, and asked if she would please come to the car. He locked the door to the house with a key and then held open the door of the Mercedes Benz so she could enter the car.

Tommy Song looked at Myung Ran as he closed the door and tried to calculate how long they had known each other. Tommy had come to the United States in 1970. He was a young man and he had opened a dry cleaning shop. At that time, there were not as many things a Korean immigrant could do in the United States . Being a dry cleaner was one of those things. He had worked hard to become a successful dry cleaner.

Tommy Song had also become very active in the Arlington Korean Baptist Church . He had dedicated himself to his dry cleaning business and the Arlington Korean Baptist Church . In turn, everyone in the church took their dry cleaning to his shop, and they had told everyone they knew about Tommy Song’s dry cleaning business. This was not bad practice. It simply was the way things were done. Tommy worked hard. He employed several members of the church as employees, and that made the community stronger. Tommy Song was proud of what he had done with his business.

But several of the members of the church had become concerned about Tommy Song. He worked many hours, often entering the dry cleaning business before the sun came up and staying until late into the night. He did not seem to have a life away from his business. It was not good for a man like Tommy Song to work so hard and not have a family to help him at home. Tommy’s mother and father were still in Korea , so his mother could not easily find an appropriate wife for Tommy. The people of the church decided to find Tommy Song a wife.

But it was not as easy as finding eligible single women in the church. Most of the church ladies were married. And most of the daughters of the church were too young for marriage, even to a relatively young man like Tommy Song. There were a few young women of Tommy’s age in the church who were not married, but they were promised to others. Tommy needed a wife when there were none to be had. So the congregation prayed for a wife for Tommy Song. They did not do this in church- that would be embarrassing for Tommy. They never told Tommy. But every lady in the Arlington Korean Baptist Church prayed every morning and every evening: “Lord Jesus, please send us a wife for Mr. Tommy Song.”

Tommy never would have known about the ladies’ prayers. But one day, Mrs. Tong ran up to Tommy Song after the services, very excited. She said to Tommy, “Our prayers have been answered!”

Tommy said to Mrs. Tong, “What prayer would that be, Mrs. Tong?”

“Tommy, we have been praying for a wife for you!”

Tommy was curious, but then felt deep shame inside. How could they have been praying for a wife for him? Could he not find his own wife? Why were these people getting into his business? Still, he told her, “Thank you, Mrs. Tong. It is very nice of you to pray this way.”

“We would like for you to meet this young woman. But I must warn you of one thing. She is a widow .”

A widow? Tommy was not sure what that meant to him. She had been married. And some people thought that the bible told them that a person could only ever be married once. On the other hand, perhaps that was not true. For example, if a woman got married to a man, and that very day the man was killed in a horrible auto accident, surely Jesus would not have wanted that woman to go through the rest of her life all alone. That did not sound right, either. Tommy remained silent. But he nodded his head, slightly.

“Good,” said Mrs. Tong. “Good, I will arrange a meeting. You will meet Miss Rhee this evening at my restaurant. This is acceptable to you?”

Tommy Song did not see any way out of this. “Yes, Mrs. Tong. Thank you, Mrs. Tong. Until this evening.”

Tommy Song had put on a nice jacket and bought some flowers from Mrs. Park’s shop. He walked into Mrs. Tong’s restaurant a few minutes before 6:30. Mrs. Tong was waiting for him. She shook Tommy Song’s hand, then looked him over. “Yes, you look nice. Be polite with the young woman, please.”

“Yes, Mrs. Tong.” Then he sat at the table that Mrs. Tong had assigned for them, not far from the middle of the restaurant, where Mrs. Tong could keep an eye on them, but also off to one side where they could talk.

Every time the bell attached to the door chimed, Tommy shifted in his seat nervously to see who was coming in. An older couple. A family with a young boy and a baby in a stroller. Another single man who went straight to the bar. Finally, the door opened and a young woman in a black dress came in.

Mrs. Tong walked straight to the door to accompany the young woman to Tommy’s table. As Mrs. Tong and the young woman got closer, Tommy stood up respectfully and pulled out the young woman’s chair. Mrs. Tong smiled broadly and said to him, “Tommy Song, please meet the Widow Rhee Myung Ran.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Tong. I am pleased to meet you, Widow Rhee.”

“I too, am pleased, Mr. Song.” Tommy pushed Rhee Myung Ran’s chair in and nodded to Mrs. Tong. Then he too sat down.

Tommy Song looked down at his menu. His heat was racing. He had not had dinner with a young woman since he had come to the United States . He could not bring himself to look directly at Rhee Myung Ran. He tried to concentrate on the menu, but could not read anything so he decided to simply order a Bibimbap.

“Widow Rhee, have you decided on anything to eat?” Tommy looked across the table and glanced towards the Widow Rhee. Then he saw her eyes. They were curiously dark and large, beautiful. He wanted to look further and further into those eyes. Then he realized that he was staring at the Widow Rhee. He felt very ashamed and looked down at the table.

But not before he realized that Rhee Myung Ran was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Tommy Song was at the wheel of the Mercedes, driving along Clarendon Boulevard . Myung Ran was at his side, sitting quietly. Although Tommy Song and Rhee Myung Ran were not normally very demonstrative, Tommy reached over and held Myung Ran’s hand as he drove.

After dinner at Mrs. Tong’s restaurant, Tommy Song had walked Rhee Myung Ran back to the hotel where she was staying. Rhee Myung Ran had not found a place to live since her husband’s death.

“Widow Rhee, have you been living in the hotel for a very long time?” Tommy wanted to know how long it had been since Rhee Myung Ran’s husband had died, but he could not ask her this directly. He had made no reference to Rhee Myung Ran’s defunct husband in the entire evening, except to tell her that he regretted her loss. Although he did not truly regret her loss. He was deeply ashamed when he had that thought.

“I have lived here for a year and a half now.” Good, thought Tommy Song. It is more than a year. He was not sure how much time one must wait to be respectful to the dead, but he was sure that it was more than a year.

“And why did you decide to come to the United States of America ?” Again, he wanted to know more about the previous marriage, but could not ask directly.

“My late husband was from the United States . He had been a U.S. Marine. We came back here because he was stationed here at the Pentagon. But then he was sent to Viet Nam , and he… he did not come back.”

“I am truly sorry for your loss, Widow Rhee.” Tommy Song was in turmoil inside. Rhee Myung Ran had been married to a U.S. Marine. Surely this changed things drastically for him. There were rumors about the Marines marrying Korean girls. He wondered what kind of girl Rhee Myung Ran was. Then he looked over at her. She was the most innocent, the most peaceful looking person he had ever met. And he realized that perhaps it did not matter what kind of girl Rhee Myung Ran had been in Korea . Perhaps the prayers of Tommy Song’s church had been answered with Rhee Myung Ran and he was not to ask too many questions about where she had come from.

Tommy Song and Rhee Myung Ran were now in front of the hotel where the Widow Rhee lived. “I have had a very lovely evening, Widow Rhee.” It was entirely true.

“I also have had a wonderful evening, Mr. Song.” Tommy bowed to the Widow Rhee, then opened the door for her. As she went past, The Widow Rhee’s shoulder brushed against Tommy Song’s hand. He felt as though his hand had caught fire.

Tommy Song’s Mercedes was passing over the Key Bridge into Georgetown . There was some traffic, but Tommy had planned ahead and had left enough time for this eventuality. They would arrive with plenty of time to spare. Rhee Myung Ran was sitting quietly. Tommy gave her hand a little squeeze.

The wedding of Tommy Song and Rhee Myung Ran had been very small. They had decided to get married in the Arlington Korean Baptist Church . The day before the wedding, Tommy Song and Rhee Myung Ran had gone to the Arlington Courthouse with all of their papers to get a marriage license. There was some confusion at the courthouse, as Tommy told the clerk that Rhee Myung Ran was a widow. The clerk had asked for a death certificate for Rhee Myung Ran’s husband. Instead, Rhee Myung Ran presented the clerk with a divorce certificate. Tommy did not ask Rhee Myung Ran why she had a divorce certificate while they were still in the courthouse. He decided that he had better not say anything until later.

When Tommy Song and Rhee Myung Ran walked out of the courthouse, Myung Ran began to cry. Tommy Song was not sure what to do. So he took Rhee Myung Ran in his arms and he held her. It was the first time he had held her since they had met. And Tommy Song whispered something to Rhee Myung Ran: “It is all right. I don’t care. The clerk made a mistake, that is all. We will be married tomorrow. Please, I would like it very much if you would smile.”

Myung Ran had raised her head and looked Tommy Song in the eyes. And a small smile crept onto her lips.

The next day Tommy Song and Rhee Myung Ran were married in the Arlington Korean Baptist Church . And Tommy never asked Myung Ran about her first husband or the divorce certificate ever again.


Chapter Forty-One

Tong Jin Sook, the owner of the Ichiban restaurant in Clarendon, had come from Korea to Arlington , Virginia in 1956 at the age of twelve. There were very few Koreans in Virginia at that point. When Jin Sook arrived, there was no Korean community. There was no Korean church. She did not meet Koreans other than her family members for several years.

Her father had started the Ichiban restaurant shortly after arriving, and the whole family worked long hours to make the restaurant work. They worked seven days a week, only taking time off to go to church on Sunday. The Arlington Korean Baptist Church had not been built at that point, so the family went to an English speaking church where they were tolerated, but not exactly welcomed. Tong Jin Sook learned to speak English by going to that church. And she learned to smile and make people think that she was enjoying herself when she was not. She did so by serving those same people as a waitress and cashier in the Ichiban restaurant.

When other Koreans came to Arlington , they naturally gravitated to the Ichiban restaurant. Some took jobs there, and others started businesses with the help of Tong Jin Sook’s father. Jin Sook’s father became an important man in the Korean community of Arlington . One of the first things that he and the other Korean men decided was that they needed a church where they could practice their religion in their own language. It took time to collect the money, but a year after that decision was made, the Arlington Korean Baptist Church was under construction.

Tong Jin Sook grew up in the Arlington Korean Baptist Church . She got married in the church when she was still quite young, and her children had gone to Sunday school there before they went on to also be married in the church.

When Tong Jin Sook’s father grew older and too tired to take care of the Ichiban restaurant, he told Jin Sook that she would be taking over the restaurant. It was not a big change in her work. She already was doing the ordering and the books. But once Tong Jin Sook’s father died in 1970, Jin Sook realized that the rest of the Korean community looked to her as a leader, as a matriarch.

Tong Jin Sook never took credit for the new Clarendon Korean School that was built shortly thereafter. Nor did she tell anyone that if they came to her when they had problems with their residency papers, she had contacts that could solve those problems. But little by little, Koreans in all of Northern Virginia spread the word that Tong Jin Sook was the lady to go to if you needed a problem solved.

That is why, one March afternoon after church services at the Arlington Korean Baptist Church , Mrs. Rhee Myung Ran visited Mrs. Tong Jin Sook. Myung Ran had a problem that she needed to have solved.

The problem would have been difficult for Rhee Myung Ran to resolve on her own, although she had promised herself many, many years before that she would take care of this problem herself. She would have had to return to her native Pohang , Korea to solve it herself, and recently it had become difficult for her to travel. But she had saved up money from her husband’s Dry Cleaning business, and she was willing to pay handsomely to have someone take care of her problem for her.

So Mrs. Rhee Myung Ran visited Mrs. Tong Jin Sook and they had a pleasant afternoon reminiscing about their childhood days in Korea , lamenting the fact that it was probable that neither of them would ever visit Korea again, but agreeing that the community they had built here in Virginia was strong and wonderful.

When Rhee Myung Ran left Tong Jin Sook’s house, she discreetly handed Tong Jin Sook an envelope containing Twenty Five Thousand U.S. Dollars and an approximate address for a Mr. Kim Bong Chol of Pohang, Korea. Some problems are expensive to solve, but worth every penny of the expense.


Chapter Forty-Two

Park Daeshin had fought against the North Koreans as an infantry soldier. He had watched every other man in his platoon get killed in the defense of Muchuk. Some of the soldiers who had died were as young as twelve years old. In the residence home the other residents called him “Colonel”, although he had never reached a rank higher than Corporal.

Colonel Daeshin was old. He could feel every one of his eighty years in his bones. He had worked very hard his entire life, finally retiring a few years before from more than forty years working in the steel plant in Pohang , Korea . Colonel Daeshin had had the forethought to put some money aside so that he could live in a nice residence home when he got old, so his children would not be burdened. He would not have liked to be a burden. Unfortunately, Colonel Daeshin’s wife had died more than ten years before. He had a picture of her in the breast pocket of his shirt.

As a single man in the residence home, he shared a living quarters with another man. Colonel Daeshin did not care for his roommate, a Mr. Kim. Mr. Kim had a reputation for being a retired crime boss in Pohang . Colonel Daeshin thought this to be dishonorable. Also, Mr. Kim was loud and disorderly, and Colonel Daeshin enjoyed order and quiet.

One of the dishonorable things that Mr. Kim would do would be to stay out well past curfew playing at the Bingo parlors. Mr. Kim would invariably come home at two in the morning and wake up Colonel Daeshin with his loud, drunken voice. Mr. Kim had gone out to play Bingo the night before. When Colonel Daeshin woke up that morning, he was surprised to see that Mr. Kim had not come home.

Colonel Daeshin shaved carefully, then got dressed and entered the common room, where all of the residents were gathered around a television. The other residents were pointing at the television screen in horror, and some of the residents were crying. Colonel Daeshin did not like to watch the television, but he was curious to find out what had provoked such horror in the other residents.

There on the television news was a report of an apparent execution style murder. The images were gruesome—an older man had been kidnapped, then brutally tortured for several hours. Finally, the man’s tormentors had hung him alive from a cross in the middle of a field on a pig farm and slowly burned him to death with a blowtorch. The body had been so badly disfigured that there was no way to identify the victim other than with dental records. But the dental records had finally shown that the victim was the reputed retired leader of the Kkangpae organized crime syndicate, Kim Bong Chol.

When the report was finished, Colonel Daeshin returned to his quarters, closed the door behind him, and smiled with satisfaction.

NaNoWriMo: 50,047 words: The Duke of Sunrises

I WON!

Yipee! I had thought I was going to finish off The Duke of Sunrises sometime this weekend. But I began to think about the weekend and realized: I'm running the Northern Central Trail Marathon tomorrow. And Sunday I'll probably be recovering. So I made an effort to pull it together before I came to work today. And then over my lunch hour I made a real push and watched the ticker finally click over 50,000 words.

As I had thought, my protagonist ended up being named Sam Small in honor of a character my father invented for his art classes.

Oddly enough, it's a pretty damn good story. Of course, I'm not so naive as to think it's ready for anyone to read at this point. It probably needs about a year's worth of editing, during which time I'd probably write about another 30,000 words to make it work. There are plenty of places where I've written in "I have to make Sara's back story more believable" or "write the trip across town". What I have is a rough first draft of a manuscript. But it's a damn good rough first draft of a manuscript.

Anyway, I'm glad not to be going into tomorrow's marathon with this hanging over my head! Wish me luck on the run!

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

NaNoWriMo Day 26: 44,909 Words (Finally caught up!)

I finally caught up with my National Novel Writing Month word count. I'm actually about one day ahead of where I have to be, which is good, because I certainly won't be writing on Saturday when I run the Northern Central Trail Marathon.

I got a big boost today when I talked with a friend who I asked to read part of the manuscript. She asked me to please, please, please kill off a particular one of my characters. I thought I had finished with killing my people, but this guy desperately needed to be liquidated.

So thanks to my friend I only have about 5,000 words to go. I guess I was wrong; violence does solve some problems (at least in this blood sport that is sport noveling).

Sunday, November 23, 2008

NaNoWriMo Day 23: 35,078 words


Okay, I'm definitely on track now. I am really confident that I can hit my 50K word goal by then end of the month. There are a few days I won't be able to write; for example, next Saturday I'm running the Northern Central Trail Marathon . Chances are good I won't write then.


I'm thinking of trying to just go ahead and finish up in the next couple of days. I've figured out that it is not really a huge big deal for me to write three or four thousand words in a day. And I would hate to get to the last day and simply not have the strength to get through the last 5000 words.


But I'm in a little bit of a quandary. I think the one best way that I can squeak another 15,000 words out of this story is to kill one of my favorite characters. The story is certainly heading that way. Death just generates a hell of a lot of drama: I had my protagonist's best friend die last year and it totally got me through the last half of the book. But I like this character. Ah well, that's the blood sport that is sport novelling. Looks like Josie's gonna have to take one for the team.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

NaNoWriMo Day 22: 32,750 words


Okay, this is more like it.

I'm only about 3,924 words behind. I got lucky. Sònia and Daniel had a bowling party to go to, and I got a nice three hour stretch to write in. So I'm almost entirely caught up. I'm feeling confident that I'm going to finish off my 50,000 work 1st draft of The Duke of Sunrises by the end of November for National Novel Writing Month.

The story is coming together nicely. Some parts of it are garbage (whaddya expect, I'm writing the whole thing in a month). But much of the manuscript up until now is surprisingly good. I have left off on any idea of trying to publish this year's work. But I'm getting a lot of benefit out of just putting the manuscript together. I think I've subconsciously been kicking around a lot of ideas that are finally making their way onto paper (well, screen).

The other thing that occurred to me is that my characters have become very real to me. I have no question about what a scene looks like when I'm setting it up. The trick is putting it on paper in such a way that another person would get it. I'm not actually sure anyone else will ever see this manuscript (no one has ever read last year's either). But I was surprised about how attached I've become to these people I've invented. This year I really have invented my characters-- last year was more about folks that I knew, who I threw into the story to act. But this year I needed some characters who fit the story a little better.

I guess all of this is a long way of saying that practice makes perfect. I think I'm actually getting better at the craft of writing. I have my doubts about ever doing this for the money. But I know for sure that I'll never get any better at writing without practice. This month I got a lot of practice.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

NaNoWriMo Day 19: 20,031 words

I'm finally getting caught up on my National Novel Writing Month manuscript, which I am tentatively calling The Duke of Sunrises. I have finally hit 20,000 words. This puts me about 11,000 words behind where I should be. But I am feeling a lot more confident that I am going to make this work this year.


I realize the name probably sounds like something that has knights and dragons in it, but the story really is about a guy in DC who is facing the prospect of getting married, having a kid, and finally growing up. It's not at all autobiographical, unless you count me filling it virtually completely with my life experiences as autobiographical. Oh, the protagonist's name is not Tim this time. I'm considering calling him Sam Small in honor of my father. Sam Small was Dad's example student when he taught art in Silsbee.

Thank god for insomnia. I wouldn't finish anythng if I was a regular sleeper.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

NaNoWriMo Day 18: 15,369 words


Man, I rocked and rolled today on this. My deployment to Austin really knocked a hole in my time to write, and I have been seriously worried about how I was going to make National Novel Writing Month work this year. The thing is, I hate ever being a DNF (Did Not Finish). So I sacrificed a little sleep (well, a lot of sleep) and put in over 6,500 words-- about five days worth of writing today. I wrote before work, during my lunch hour, and a really long time after Sonia and Daniel went to bed.

I have to say that I'm pleased. I had story elements come out of nowhere. Two more of my minor supporting characters turned out to have really interesting back stories that I ended up explaining (even though I invented these characters, I'm finding out more about them all the time).

Well, I'm about to fall asleep sitting up, so I'm headed for bed.

Monday, November 10, 2008

NaNoWriMo Day 10: Behind, but catching up

We are ten days into NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month).  To make 50,000 words by the end of the month, I should have written 16,670 words.  I woke up this morning with 900 words... but I also had three pretty good characters and an idea.

I got up early this morning and put in a couple of hours writing, and this evening I put in some more.  I've decided to structure my novel somewhat on the same lines as George R. R. Martin's A Game of Thrones and write each chapter from a differing character's viewpoint.  I like this because it avoids making the story too neatly lopsided to one character.

The storyline has gotten out of my hands and is firmly in my characters' wills now.  I was determined to make two of my characters hate each other but they seem to have fallen in love.  One of my incidental characters (a waiter) just pushed his way into a major supporting role.  And two of my characters just jumped in the sack together.

Anyway, my word count is at 5,561 now, so I did about three day's writing today.  And I'm pleased and proud and for the first time this month I think I can actually do this.   At this point, I must.  I actually am anxious to see how the story turns out.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

22 Miles - 17 minutes faster!


I'm continuing with my crazy-assed plan of running 22 miles every Sunday for a while to see what will happen (any guesses as to what will happen?  It starts with "I" and ends with "njury").  I got up at 4:45 am so I could get my run done before Daniel and Sònia where up and around.  Hmmm, one of the signs of addiction is hiding the behavior-- maybe I'll start hiding my long runs in toilet tanks and behind books in the bookshelf...


Anyway, Daylight Savings Time is over so I kind of got up at 5:45 am my time, so it wasn't as horrible.  If you're finding that you're not on time for anything today, you might need to adjust your watch!

The trail was silent, no one on it at first.  Last week I was dodging bikers and other runners the whole way, today I was alone for long stretches.  I found it very easy to stay concentrated on my environment, being in the moment.  I found that this got progressively harder to maintain as I got more tired.  But I was pleased with how easily I got it back.  At the very beginning of the Capital Crescent Trail I saw an animal moving around by the trail ahead in the darkness.  I tried to figure out what it was and was pretty much right on top of it when I realized it was a young deer.  The deer just looked at me.  I just did my "Hi Deer, you stay over there and I'll stay over here and this is going to turn out just fine" bit.  It never really moved away.

I was cooking today.  Last week I finished this route in 3:31 and today I finished in just 3:13-- 17 minutes faster!  Part of this is that I know the trail better and missed one false turn (though I still made a different wrong turn).  Part of it is that I know I can do this distance and I was confident that I could press the pedal a little more.  But I have to think that part of the improvement was simply that I have improved: I'm actually a little faster.  Fast enough that I was running 8:59 miles the whole 22 miles.  A few months back I could only sustain 10:00 miles for about 12 miles.  I am feeling smug.


As far as National Novel Writing Month, I squeaked out 366 words yesterday-- not 1,667.  Sigh.  Being a dad cuts into this kind of thing.  But I have a story!  It's gonna have it all-- runnin' and meditatin' and goin' to them meetins' (I've been watching that palurda Palin and now my "g's" don't work)  And I've made a decision-- I'm going to have to give up my reading club coordination duties for the month.  Basically that will make the time necessary to get this thing finished off.  I had a blast doing this last year, and I am looking forward to getting my word count going this afternoon when I get a little time alone-- as long as I don't fall asleep from my run as soon as I'm by myself.

Saturday, November 1, 2008

National Novel Writing Month starts today - Killer leg cramp


I got up this morning knowing that something was happening-- daylight savings time? nope, that's tomorrow.  Payday?  yep, but that's not really as special as it should be.  Then it hit me-- the first day of November-- National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) has started!  Arg!


I haven't thought about a story-- on the other hand, that's not necessary or even desireable.  But what I am freaking out about is the time commitments I'm on: I'm a member of two book clubs who meet this month, and reading time competes with writing time.  I'm training for the Northern  Central Trail Marathon on the 29th, and running time competes with writing time.  And I'm a FEMA Branch Chief and working time definitely competes with writing time.

What the hell, I'm still going to do it.  Just have to write 1,667 words today.  That's easy.

Last night I woke up with a huge cramp in my left calf muscle.  I felt like someone was ripping my calf muscle off.  It's my own damn fault.  I went into the gym yesterday and lifted like crazy.  I changed my routine to emphasize endurance more, so I'm doing 3 sets of 20 reps of everything.  That last set is pretty awful.  Hopefully this will get a little easier over the next few weeks.

Monday, October 27, 2008

National Novel Writing Month starts in five days!


Last year I participated in (and won!) National Novel Writing Month for the first time.  I wrote a 50,000 word manuscript called Awake-- a coming of age story set at the Naval Academy.  It wasn't about me (okay, yeah it was).


So in four days I'm going to start writing my second manuscript.  I don't know what the book will be about.  I don't know where I will set it.  I do know that I can't write another coming-of-age-at-Canoe-U book (nor would I want to).  It might be about running....

The fact is that I won't know what I'm writing about until I sit down to write it.  That's how I did it last year-- in fact, I had a pretty good idea of what I was going to write about and it changed as I started writing.

You may be wondering if you could do this.  You can.  You are not too busy to write the page and a half a day required to complete 50,000 words in one month.  Believe me: I'm a father, I'm a runner, I go to those meetings a lot... I'm a busy guy.  But like they say, if you're already doing a million things, the million and first won't make that much of a difference.  So I encourage you to join me on the sordid corpse-strewn highway that is novelling.  Go to http://www.nanowrimo.org to get started.

Saturday, February 2, 2008

February Album Writing Month: Naphthalene (Song #1)

After finishing National Novel Writing Month, I was looking for something to do and ran across February Album Writing Month (FAWM). The idea is to write 14 songs in 28 days. I've gotten started on my album (ha ha), which I'm tentatively calling "14 things I f&"@#!d up (and one thing I got right)".

You can see and listen to "Naphthalene" at http://fawm.org/songs.php?id=227.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

NaNoWriMo Day 27: Done! 50,062 Words!

Incredible as it may seem, I managed to finish the 50,000 novel in 27 days. There was a lot of fun in the first three weeks, a lot of moments when the prose just flowed out of me and I was amazed at the ease of the thing. There were moments of uncertainty, but the writing kept it fun, and I eventually was able to come up with a good story arc.

Then the fourth week came, and I started coming to the end of my novel-- 8,000 words too early, This part was painful. The ending point I chose seemed stiff, contrived. And I found myself writing the words THE END three days ago. Which meant I had to go back and invent scenes I had not thought about.


In the end, those were some of the most fun scenes to write. I realized when I got to the end of the book that I had neglected my protagonist's relationship with his parents, so I put in a good number of conversations between them. That was good for at least 4000 words. I also realized that my character had about a month during Christmas Break from the Naval Academy when he had nothing to do. So I put him on restriction and had him sit around and talk to the rest of the criminals. The book is not about me, but this was pretty similar to when I was on restriction for Thanksgiving my second class year-- again, I want to emphasize that the book is not about me. Honest.


I should emphasize something: no one in their right mind would write a novel in 30 days. I know that. Real Writers would not even attempt a first draft in 30 days. But I also know me well enough to know that I needed to do this in 30 days or I would not get it done.


So here's to my novel. I don't know if anyone but me will ever read it (that is, I may not let anyone else read it). But there's a lot of me in that thing.


One thing I'm sure about: I'm pretty sure I'm going to try again next year.

Saturday, November 24, 2007

NaNoWriMo Day 24: 40,000 words!

Today is quite a milestone. I just passed 40,000 words and am well within my goal word count. Apparently the last 10,000 words are pretty much of a slide. I'm thinking about when I ran the Marine Corps Marathon in 1991, though. I finished off the first 20 miles and realized I had 10,000 meters to go, and thought how nice it would be to stop right then.

One difficulty is that I already know what the last two scenes in the book are going to be. So my options are starting to get limited for new scenes for my actors. But I've found finding that every aspect of this exercise so far has somehow made me squeeze out some new aspect of writing, and I expect that this restriction will make me do just that as well.

NaNoWriMo Day 23: 38,839 words

Night before last, I sat up until 3AM and finally caught up my word count-- in fact I got an entire day ahead. Tonight I realized that I was going to fall behind again, so I bit the bullet. When Sònia went off to bed, I stayed up and made myself write until I was caught up again.

I actually think I'm going to make it. I think I know how the book is going to end, although I am not discarding the idea of some new plot twist injecting itself at the eleventh hour.

I can't express what an awesome experience this has been so far. I have had to dredge up memories I had not thought about for ages. Parts of the book are starting to connect together in weird, magical ways. I'm also starting to really notice the craft of other writers-- I was reading a passage from The Lord Of The Rings the other night and was struck by how much of what Tolkein wrote had nothing to do with moving the story forward and everything to do with setting up environment and helping develop the characters.

I've gotten so cocky that I told my dad about writing this thing and he offered to edit it. My initial reaction was to accept but internally reject this idea-- I mean, what's my dad going to say about all the parts that involve genitalia? But then I thought, how many guys get to do something like this with their dads. So I guess the first person who will read my book will be my dad, if I finish it. Which I will.

Monday, November 19, 2007

NaNoWriMo Day 19: 29,060 words!

This morning I was getting ready for work and saw that today was the 19th.  Which means (yikes!) only 11 days until the end of National Novel Writing Month!  I managed to catch up a little over the weekend, which was good.  My writing session in Annapolis was shorter than I wanted it to be.  I spent a lot longer than I had expected looking over the Academy grounds.  So little has changed there in 21 years!

I've been doing some minimal sketching out of the plot and leaving un-written some of the passages that just serve to connect more interesting passages.  This is paying off.  The story is flowing along nicely.  I really understand what writers mean when they say that the book takes on a life of its own.  There have been several times when I've decided to take a character in a new and different direction only to find that details of the story up to that point support the change.  It feels like someone else is planning out the book for me.

This weekend I had dinner with my old Glee Club director from the Academy, Dr. John Barry Talley, and his wife, Marcia Talley.  We were talking with a group of other alumni from the glee club about a bar in Annapolis, and I found myself saying, "oh, thank god you know the name of that place, I'm using it in my book."  My book.  How very weird.  Marcia Talley is a renowned published writer, and she looked over at me and beamed proudly when I said that.

Friday, November 16, 2007

NaNoWriMo Day 15: 22,547 (halfway day)

In theory my word count should be at 25,000, but I'm feeling pretty good about this. Almost all of my story takes place in Annapolis, and I'll be taking a trip up there tomorrow to meet up with some of my old friends from the Glee Club and Dr. Talley, the director who just retired after 35 years. So I should have some time to get some writing done tomorrow while I'm there, and maybe research a couple of the bits where my knowledge of The Yard has gotten foggy.

I finally took a few minutes (I'm talking like five minutes here) to outline the rest of the story. I'm not 100% committed to all elements yet, but I kind of have an idea of what points the storry will be building towards now. I have the whole semi-plan written out in BIG HONKING CAPITAL LETTERS at the end of the novel so far.

One bit of advice I got today was to leave aside all of the connecting passages and concentrate on the juicy bits that drive the story forward. The connecting stuff can stand as some instructions ("AFTER THIS X LEAVES THE PARTY AND SOMEHOW GETS TO Y'S HOUSE WHERE THEY WILL HAVE A FIGHT") that would be fixed in editing. I'm going to try that tomorrow and see what happens.