A Word on 'The Last Word' by Taylor Adams: A Review

 by John Russo, guest contributor

Seeing as this story is about a psychopathic author who stalks, haunts, and terrorizes a reader over a negative review, one would probably think it wise of me to give it five stars just out of caution. After all, considering the wild ride this book just took me on, I’m entitled to some paranoia. Right?

However, there are two differences between Taylor Adams (who wrote The Last Word) and H.G. Kane (the aforementioned psychopath found in the pages of The Last Word). The first difference is that Mr. Adams is, from what I can tell, a good human being without any evil intentions whatsoever. The other difference is, unlike the psychopathic author in the story, Mr. Adams deserves and has fully earned a five-star review.

To begin, The Last Word surpassed my expectations by miles. That’s quite the compliment, given that my expectations were pretty high after reading No Exit, Adams’s nail-biting tale about a college student who finds herself pitted against the very face of evil at a rest stop on a Colorado mountain pass. Many of the elements that came together in No Exit also join forces here -- a troubled heroine running from a shattered past, a secluded location, a storm, and a dreadful villain lurking just beyond the reach of the motion-activated security lights.

Emma Carpenter, this story’s troubled heroine, turns out to be just as determined and strong-willed as Darby Thorne from No Exit, but I think I cheered her on a bit harder than I did Darby. The more I learned about her, and about the awful tragedies that drove her to that secluded beach house, the more I desperately wanted her to come out the victor in the nightmare that followed.

This amazingly original thriller accomplished so many daring feats, it would take me far too long to cover them all. For example, there aren’t many books out there that have filled me with such doubt, such uncertainty as to what’s real and what’s not, that I nearly went mad every time I tried to get ahead of the story and guess what might happen next. With this one, I simply couldn’t outsmart the plot. Granted, if one pays close attention, the clues are there, but even with the clues, it’s impossible to accurately predict.

I don’t wish to spoil anything, because to do so would be to rob future readers of the pleasure of each and every shock, each little twist that takes the story in jaw-dropping directions. And it’s not just the twists themselves, it’s the clever methods by which Adams reveals them to the reader. It’s pure, gritty, adrenaline-pumped delight, through-and-through.

Perhaps the best part about The Last Word is that, while it is a dark and disturbing book with plenty of human cruelty on display, it’s also filled with hope. I will admit, near the end, I almost couldn’t bear to go on. I almost laid it aside because I couldn’t bear the thought that evil would triumph, not after the heroine had gone through so much hell. Thankfully, I wasn’t disappointed.

But when I say it’s filled with hope, I’m getting at something deeper than just a happy ending. It’s a story about redemption, forgiveness, courage, reconciliation, and love – things our society needs right now more than ever.

So don’t waste any time. Pick this one up. You won’t regret it.

 

John Russo is a writer whose latest short story, "The Race," can be found at Amazon.

 

Strength of Will Produces Strong Characters

 

By the Write Redhead

Back when I was beginning my studies for my creative writing journey, I read a book on how to create story people; and while I don’t remember all the details, I remember this: besides having quirks, every character in your story has to want or desire something. And if you think about it, what a character wants or desires can tell you a great deal about that character.

James Scott Bell, in his book Writing Unforgettable Characters, takes it a step further by saying, that beyond just having wants and desires, a good character must have the strength of will to get what he or she wants. Bell even defines a novel as “the record of how a character, through strength of will, fights against death.” As he explains, the death does not have to be physical, although many a story has characters that must indeed fight against the prospects of physical death.  The death can be that of a job, a romance, or any other hope or dream.

When I think of strength of will in a character, one character who comes to mind is Scarlett O’Hara in the novel Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell.  If you are familiar with the story at all, you know what I am talking about. For those unfamiliar with the story, it a story about the daughter of a wealthy plantation owner in Georgia who becomes hopelessly in love with a man she eventually figures out can never be hers.  Scarlett’s fight against death begins when the object of her affection, Ashley Wilkes, announces his engagement to a woman whom Scarlett deems to be plain and homely and completely unworthy of him.

She spends the entire story thinking, scheming, and planning ways to get Ashley to relent and admit that he loves her so that they can live happily ever after, despite myriads of other men who would love to marry her.  In fact, she does marry three different men in an attempt to provoke Ashley to jealousy. And although Ashley does near the end admit that he does indeed love Scarlett, who has entered the war as a nurse just to get near him, he tells Scarlett that he cannot leave his wife which serves as the final blow.

After being slapped by this reality, she finally comes around to the fact that she does actually love her current husband, Rhett Butler, more than she realized.  But things are not that simple. Just as Scarlett is having her moment of clarity, Rhett has grown weary of his pursuit of her heart and has decided to give up on the relationship. When she begs and pleads with him to give her another chance, he utters those most famous last words in cinematic history: “Frankly, my Dear, I don’t give a damn.” Hence begins Scarlett renewed sense of will and her determination to get it all back. The story ends with Scarlett still fighting but for different reasons. She now must fight the death of her relationship with Rhett and the loss of her beloved family plantation. And while the reader knows all of this is a long shot, the reader still believes it to be possible simply because of the strength of will already demonstrated by Scarlett.

Other examples of characters demonstrating strength of will include Frodo from Lord of the Rings, Mitchell Rafferty from Dean Koontz’s The Husband, and John Matherson in the novel One Second After to name a few.  

In closing, think back to some of the most memorable characters you have come across in your reading. What were their desires or goals? Did they have the strength of will to achieve them? It is not enough to just give your characters wants, desires, and goals. The audience has to believe that the characters have the strength of will to attain them.

 

James Scott Bell, Writing Unforgettable Characters. Woodland Hills, CA: Compendium Press, 2020. Pg. 5

Author of Ella Enchanted, Gail Carson Levine, Shares her 7 Rules for Writing

 

By The Write Redhead 

Having written at least thirteen books, many considered classics now, Gail Carson Levine knows a little bit about writing.  If you ask her what kind of advice she would give new or aspiring writers, she’ll give you seven rules for getting a running start at becoming the writer you would like to be. And here they are:

1.      The best way to write better is to write more.

2.      The best way to write better is to write more.

3.      The best way to write better is to write more.

4.      The best way to write more is to write whenever you have five minutes and wherever you find a chair and a pen and paper or your computer.

5.      Read! Most likely you don’t need this rule. If you enjoy writing, you probably enjoy reading. The payoff for this pleasure is that reading books shows you how to write them.

6.      Reread! There’s nothing wrong with reading a book you love over and over. When you do, the words get inside you, become part of you, in a way that words in a book you’ve read only once can’t.

7.      Save everything you write, even if you don’t like it, even if you hate it. Save it for a minimum of fifteen years. I’m serious. At that time, if you want to, you can throw it out, but even then don’t discard your writing lightly.

And no, the first three are not typos. She says this really is the best way to learn the craft of writing. After all, you can read every book there is on building houses, but until you actually start building one, you will never truly learn the ins and outs of the process. Learning to write works much the same way.

Her next piece of advice, of course, is to read. Many a writing career has begun with reading, including her own. She says this about her start: “I read novels constantly, as I always had, and one day while I was meditating I asked myself why, since I adored stories, I never made up any.” And, thousands of fans are glad she did.

Not to sound clichéd, but to be a writer you must be a reader. And not only that, but you must read the kind of books you would like to write.  If you want to write mysteries, read the ones you consider to be the best; likewise if you want to write sci-fi, read the best in sci-fi.

Saving everything you write may sound a bit trite, but it is always good to go back to see how you have improved, making it critical to your learning journey.

Regardless of the niche you write in, these seven rules can help you on your way to becoming the best writer you can be.

The Two Basic Forms of the Short Story Part 2

While Edger Allan Poe, among others, perfected the well-made short story, Anton Chekhov perfected the slice-of-life short story. As I pointed out before, the slice-of-life short story is simply what its name implies: a slice of life. It is a slice or piece of time, or more specifically, what occurs during a certain period of time. It doesn’t follow the typical story structure in the sense that it builds to a climax in the same way a well-made short story does.

Chekov’s idea of the short story differed from that of Poe and many of those who came before him. To him the short story was like a mosaic, little pieces put together to create a larger picture. Many of his stories lacked plot, a dominant characteristic of the well-made story.

One great illustration of this is Anton Chekhov’s short story “Misery.” This story depicts an evening in the life of a Russian sledge driver named Iona who has just lost his son. It begins like this:

        The twilight of evening. Big flakes of wet snow are whirling lazily about the
        street lamps, which have just been lighted, and lying in a thin soft layer
        on roofs, horses’backs, shoulders, caps. Iona Potapov, the sledge-driver,
        is all white like a ghost. He sits on the box without stirring, bent as double
        as the living body can be bent. If a regular snowdrift fell on him it seems
        as though even then he would not think it necessary to shake it off. . . .

  

We see from this introduction that our main character is a bit despondent. He sits hunched over, not seeming to care about the snow that is accumulating on his back.

His first customer of the evening is an impatient Russian officer. 

      “Sledge to Vyborgskaya!” Iona hears. “Sledge!”

       Iona starts, and through his snow-plastered eyelashes sees an officer
       in a military overcoat with a hood over his head.

     “To Vyborgskaya,” repeats the officer. “Are you asleep? To Vyborgskaya!”

The officer gets in and Iona drives on in a rather distracted manner almost running into others.

      “Where are you shoving, you devil?” Iona immediately hears shouts
       from the dark mass shifting to and fro before him. “Where the devil
       are you going? Keep to the right!”

     “You don’t know how to drive! Keep to the right,” says the officer angrily.

After getting the sledge back on course, Iona then tells the officer how he has lost his son.  However while telling the officer the details of the situation, Iona continues to drive off course, almost running into pedestrians. When Iona turns back around to the officer after once again getting back on course, he finds that the officer has closed his eyes and is no longer inclined to listen.

His next group of passengers consists of three rowdy young men. One of them he calls the hunchback because he is shorter than the other two and is hunchbacked. The hunchback is loud, obnoxious, and rude. Iona and the hunchback have this exchange:

     “Well drive on,” says the hunchback in his cracked voice, settling
       himself and breathing down Iona’s neck. “Cut along! What a cap
       you’ve got, my friend! You wouldn’t find a worse one in all Petersburg. . . .

  

     “He-he! . . .he-he! . . .” laughs Iona. “It’s nothing to boast of!”

     “Well, then, nothing to boast of, drive on! Are you going to drive like this

      all the way? Eh? Shall I give you one in the neck?”

After some small talk among his passengers, Iona tries to let them know that his son has died. The hunchback responds:

     “We shall all die, . . .” says the hunchback with a sigh, wiping
       his lips after coughing. “Come, drive on! Drive on! My friends,
       I simply cannot stand crawling like this! When will he get us
       there?”

He tries one more time to tell his passengers of his pain, but to no avail.  After a slap on the back of Iona’s neck and more small talk, their ride comes to an end and once again he is left alone. He decides to call it a day and goes back to the stables. There he tries once again to tell a fellow driver of the loss of his son, but the man does not listen. So he must turn his attention to the only one who will listen—his horse.

     "Are you munching?” Iona asks his mare, seeing her shining eyes.
     “There, munch away, munch away. . . .Since we have not earned
       enough for oats, we will eat hay. . . .Yes, . . . I have grown too old
       to drive. . . .My son ought to be driving, not I. . . . He was a real
       coachman. . . .He ought to have lived. . . .”

Iona goes on to lament that his son has died for no reason. Chekhov ends with this:

     The little mare munches, listens, and breathes on her master’s hands.
     Iona is carried away and tells her about it.

As you can see, the story has no plot but simply portrays a moment or an evening in the life of this man, Iona.  It is, in a sense, a slice of time taken from his life. You may be asking what it is that holds stories like these together since they have no plot. What is it that makes them worth reading?  According to professor Laurie Rozakis of Farmingdale State Universiy, it is the character’s moment of realization or epiphany. Or, you could call it an Ah-ha moment. Whatever you choose to call it, it is essential to the success of your slice of life short story.

Dana Gioia and R.S. Gwynn. The Art of the Short Story. New York, NY: Pearson Longman, 2006.

Laurie E. Rozakis, Ph.D. Creating Writing for Dummies. New York, NY: Alpha Books, 2004.

The Two Basic Forms of the Short Story Part 1

Although there are arguably ten or more types of short stories, especially when you get into the different genres, professor Laura Rozakis says there are really only two basic forms: the well-made short story or the slice-of-life short story.  The well-made short story is one consisting of a definite beginning, middle, and ending. More specifically, it has a well-defined plot and tells a complete or thoroughly developed story. The other, the slice-of-life, is just that—a slice of life. You could think of it as a moment extracted from a particular point in time.

Although most short story writers tend to write their stories in the well-made fashion, Edgar Allan Poe was a master at it. Take for instance his story “The Black Cat,” which is the story of a man’s slow descent into madness resulting from alcohol abuse. This story begins with the narrator awaiting execution. He then proceeds to tell the reader how he got to such a place. Here is how it begins:

 

"For the most wild yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence. Yet, mad am I not—and very surely do I not dream. But to-morrow I die, and to-day I would unburden my soul."

 

The narrator goes on to tell of his love for animals and how he and his wife shortly after they were married adopted a number of pets—birds, goldfish, rabbits, a fine dog, a small monkey, and a black cat. He is most fond of the cat, calling it his favorite pet and playmate. However his relationship with the cat, as well as with his wife, begins to deteriorate with his growing affinity for alcohol. He becomes impatient and intolerant of the smallest irritations. He comes home one day intoxicated and tries reach for the cat whom he thinks is avoiding him. The cat swiftly bites at his hand, causing him to perform a cruel act. He explains:

       

"One night, returning home, much intoxicated, from one of my haunts about town, I fancied that the cat avoided my presence. I seized him; when, in his fright at my violence, he inflicted a slight wound upon my hand with his teeth. The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nutured, thrilled every fiber of my frame. I took from my waistcoat-pocket a penknife, opened it, grasped the poor beast by the throat, and deliberately cut one of its eyes from the socket! I blush, I burn, I shudder, while I pen the damnable atrocity."

 

 

The sight of the cat becomes unbearable to him; therefore, one day he takes the cat and hangs it from a tree near his home. Following this, his house catches on fire and burns down except for one wall. The wall becomes another reminder of what he has done when he realizes that there is a bas-relief upon the wall of a gigantic cat with a rope around its neck. He soon reasons that someone had taken the cat down from the tree and had thrown it through his open window to get his attention, and when the walls began to fall, they fell so as to press the cat into the plaster creating the imprinted image.

 

Sometime later, after the terror of the incident has passed, he comes across another cat at a local pub. Like the first, this cat also takes to him and follows him home. This cat is similar to the first in appearance, and his wife immediately takes to it. He, however, does not. Still haunted by his previous crime, he finds himself despising the new-found cat.

One day the cat follows him down to the cellar of the old building he and his wife are living in. Here the narrator describes what happened:

        

"One day she accompanied me, upon some household errand, into the cellar of the old building which our poverty compelled us to inhabit. The cat followed me down the steep stairs, and, nearly throwing me headlong, exasperated me to madness.Uplifting the axe, forgetting in my wrath the childish dread which, of course, would have proved instantly fatal had it descended as I wished. But this blow was arrested by the hand of my wife. Goaded by the interference into a rage more than demoniacal, I withdrew my arm from her grasp and buried thr axe in her brain. She fell dead upon the spot without a groan."

With his wife dead, he goes into a panic over what to do with her body. After milling around a number of possibilities, he finally decides to wall her up in the cellar. Once he has completed the task, he realizes the cat is nowhere to be seen and begins to bask in his freedom. On the fourth day of his new-found freedom, there is a knock on his door. It is the police. Confident in his handywork, he takes the police down to the cellar to show them his newly built wall. To demonstrate the strength of the wall, he decides to tap on it. This of course proves to be a colossal mistake, for from behind the wall emanates a continuous scream or howl—the cat. At the sound of the wailing, the authorities quickly begin tearing into the wall, and here is what happens:

        

"Of my own thoughts it is folly to speak. Swooning, I staggered to the opposite wall. For one instant the party on the stairs remained motionless, through extremity of terror and awe. In the next a dozen stout arms were toiling at the wall. It fell bodily. The corpse, already greatly decayed and clotted with gore, stood erect before the eyes of the spectators. Upon its head, with red extended mouth and solitary eye of fire, sat the hideous beast whose craft had seduced me into murder, and whose informing voice had consigned me to the hangman. I had walled the monster up within the tomb."

 

So as you can see, this story, like many of Poe’s other stories, is well developed with a clear beginning, middle, and ending, or more importantly, a plot. It follows the classic story structure.

                                     

To be continued in Part 2

The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe. Castle Books: Edison, New Jersey, 2002.

Laurie E.Rozakis, Ph.D. An Idiot's Guide to Creative Writing. New York, NY: Alpha Books, 2004.