Posts Tagged ‘Fantasy Fiction Author’
Dark Whispers, by Kevin Lazarus
Kevin Lazarus in Carthage Falls
(From: The Dark Side of Carthage Falls, the Anthology – by Kevin Lazarus)
The sky looked dark, even menacing. Happily, the driveway was empty. Of course, I couldn’t say that I was sorry he wasn’t there–the man with two faces.
I was home from school at what should have been the normal time, because, according to my teacher she had some kind of emergency and had to leave early. So I didn’t need to stay for my usual after school sessions.
As I opened the back door to my house, I called out my mother’s name and listened in vain. I knew she wouldn’t answer–she wasn’t there–she was never there. But, like many children, hope is often the only companion they have, so I called to her anyway.
The silence was stark but expected. I slipped the house key hanging around my neck back beneath my shirt and closed the door behind me. The loneliness was all too familiar. By now, I had gotten over feeling cheated or angry–at least I thought so. Having no one there once in awhile is a blast, even fun, but all of the time. Eventually you begin to wonder if anyone really gives a damn about you. Then throw in a messed up freak that wants you to call him dad, and this unfortunate place called Carthage Falls, and its way more than anyone deserves in ten lifetimes.
The clock on the wall in the kitchen told me that I had at least several hours before he came home. Hopefully, mom would get there first. My heart sank at that thought. “Come home first mom–please–” With that whisper, I quietly grimaced. I found myself wishing that I could go over to my friend’s, but they had some family thing planned and it didn’t include me.
The fridge didn’t have much to offer. But, things being the way there were, I had learned to be resourceful. In the butter keeper was a cube of butter. Yes, I thought, a treat! I flipped open the cover and took it. With that, I opened the bread box and retrieved the half loaf of bread in it, and then–a bottle of Maple syrup.
A long ribbon of dark Maple syrup slowly flowed out over the plate until I was satisfied it was enough. I hacked off a large hunk of butter and began smashing it into the syrup with a fork.
A sudden gust of wind rattled the windows and shook the house. I grabbed my plate along with several slices of bread and hurried to the kitchen table near the window, from where I could watch the gathering storm outside. Tearing a piece of bread apart, I pushed it around in the mixture, sopping up as much butter and syrup as I could; soaking the bread so thoroughly that it would ooze syrup when I squeezed it. It was like biting down on a soft squishy sponge that just melted in my mouth. Outside great gusts of wind blew flurries of snow in every direction. Little white flakes sticking against the glass would slowly melt as they slid down into a droplet. Within seconds everything outside was a blinding white–and I watched in awe. It was a total whiteout. more »
Turning Your Novel into a Screenplay, by David Farland
David Farland
(From David Farland’s Daily Kick in the Pants)
Recently I’ve been hired to turn my first Runelords novel into a screenplay. I’m nearly finished with the last book in the series, and I want to complete that first, but it’s not too soon to begin thinking about the challenge—and it is a challenge. Always remember that the book is not the movie. They’re different mediums. A book is long enough so that you normally can’t just remove the excess description and still have a workable movie. You need to simplify the plot—not all of it, just the right parts.
So as I prepare to write the Runelords screenplay, I think I should go over the history of the project, first, so that you can understand why I want to take on the challenge.
Many of you know that I began writing the book in 1996, or at least began plotting it then. I plotted the novel knowing that it had excellent potential as a film and videogame franchise, so I made sure that as I plotted it, I kept the special effects budgets fairly inexpensive (it’s easy to write a novel that would cost a billion dollars to make into a movie), and I paid attention to creating a story that I would want to see as a movie.
As the books began hitting the New York Times bestseller list, interest in them heated up. In 2001 I was invited to take a trip to China with some movie producers to see about filming the movies there, and I took another trip in 2002. I decided against working in China at the time, but began a development company in 2002 and helped raise millions of dollars to create the movie. more »
The Monster’s Ball, by Kevin Lazarus
Kevin Lazarus in Carthage Falls
(From: The Dark Side of Carthage Falls, the Anthology – by Kevin Lazarus)
“Dude—that night when your step dad came in yelling at us, did he even ask why we were so scared?” Brett stared at me, waiting for my answer. Somehow, during our lunchtime discussion, of just about every gross thing we could imagine, Brett zeroed in on that night—and the shadow. We weren’t alone, sitting at our favorite table. Kelly and some other kid named Derek, who wasn’t there that night, were sitting with us—participating in the gross fest.
Irritated with Brett’s diversion, I realized what it was that had caused the course change. In my attempt to one up the other guys, I brought up the old man barging into my room, showing up in his BVDs. I figured that there were enough witnesses to that night sitting at the table; it would be an easy win.
Of course, Brett refused to concede. But the others were backing me up. That is until Brett decided to point out the fact that my step father was a little hinky—walking around like that—especially with a bunch of kids being there.
“I know he’s weird—what can I say—I didn’t pick him!” It was a mouthful to spit out all at once, but I was embarrassed. I didn’t want any of them to think that I was related to him in any way, other than by my mother’s marriage to him.
Anger flooded through me at Brett’s trickery—he knew how I felt about my stepfather. He knew that I hated him and that it would throw me off, bringing him up. Brett was pretty sharp that way. At this moment he could see I was pretty upset too. All of sudden he gave me a friendly nudge and said: “Tell the guys some of the things he does to you!”
I stared at him in shock, becoming angrier at his continued violation of my trust. It seemed to me that this kid didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut! It would’ve been one thing if he was sincerely concerned for me. But it seemed to me it was a peculiar fascination; like I was one of those bugs he’d trap and then torture mercilessly—all the while wearing that slight slip of smile—his sinister little grin.
The thought of revealing too much about my life was unnerving. But the prodding of my friends to “continue” was hard to resist. Somehow, my thoughts drifted past my desire for revenge against Brett, and with a long paused breath, started—hoping that I truly was in the company of friends.
My words faltered a little, awkwardly tumbling out of my mouth as I began to speak. “Well—one time he pinned me to the floor. I think he thought we were having fun, but I was stinking scared. He pinned my arms down and my legs so I couldn’t move—” more »
Shadow of the Hand, by Kevin Lazarus
Kevin Lazarus in Carthage Falls
(From: The Dark Side of Carthage Falls, the Anthology – by Kevin Lazarus)
The old orchard wouldn’t soon be forgotten. Often on our way home Brett and I would stop near the grassy path and tempt ourselves with the possibilities—of running headlong down the path. Not stopping at the old tractor and not exploring for new discoveries, but just running hard; cutting loose, pulling out all of the stops to temp fate—just for the thrill of it!
We would laugh and push one another, taunting the other to move closer to the head of the trail. So close to the branch covered opening that we could feel the hair bristle at the back of our necks. And then run frightened—like the little kids we were—back to the sidewalk; where often we would find Carly watching us, staring at us like fools. There was something about her? It would be sometime before I would dare to venture down that path again. Not for one second would I have guess that it would be by myself and that my worst fears would be realized…
Autumn birthdays and Halloween all jumbled into to one. With enough cake and candy to give an elephant a sugar high, it was most excellent! Add to that a sleepover and it made for one sweet trick-or-treat night. By that evening we had canvassed the entire neighborhood and returned to riffle through our booty.
I sat and watched Brett, dressed like a pirate (we were both pirates—no surprise there), drooling over a pile of candy that would choke an elephant. The two of us and several other friends had all of our candy on the carpet in mounds, going through it, counting it to see who had the most. And that kid, the one with the most, would be Peter. He was that kid that, not matter what he did, he almost always seemed to come out on top. Like a little miser, he kept scooping it all back into one massive pile, with a boyish grin, while laughing a sinister laugh and repeating over and over, “read ‘em and weep boys!” Yeah—he went as a cowboy.
Stuffed with candy and hotdogs from dinner, and cake from my birthday—and more candy, we retired to my bedroom to tell scary stories, and of course—eat more candy.
We sat in a circle, still dressed in our costumes, each taking a turn trying to scare each other. We passed around a flashlight, holding it under our chins to make our faces look creepy. Brett told the last story—The Hand—which freaked me out. He took particular delight in laying it on heavy, adding every creepy detail he could think of. We were scared out of our minds.
Daniel, this pudgy little kid that I grew to like because of his sincerity, suddenly went off on Brett, “you aren’t all that scary!” With that, the banter intensified resulting in a little shoving match between Daniel and Peter, because Peter disagreed with Daniel—he thought Brett was plenty scary. Finally, Brett broke it up by revealing to the others that I had some real scary stories to tell; bragging about the orchard and then telling them that I had been hearing creepy footsteps at night while walking home. Brett and the others suddenly got real silent staring at me. “Go on,” Brett whispered, “tell ‘em what happened to you!” more »
Evaluating the Value of Your Movie Option, by David Farland
David Farland
(From David Farland’s Daily Kick in the Pants—Making the Runelords Movie)
So let’s say that you’ve written a short story or a novel, and a producer comes along and wants to buy your movie option. How much is it worth?
That’s a good question. Right now I’m negotiating a large contract. When I first spoke to one producer, he was surprised that I’d ask for so much for the movie rights to a book (we’re into seven figures). But when I explained the reasoning behind the valuation method, he said, “You’re absolutely right. This property is worth millions—probably more than you’re asking for—, and I’m happy to sign.”
So you, as an author you want as much as you can reasonably get. The producer will of course will want to negotiate as good a deal as he can get. There will almost always be some dickering.
There are a lot of complexities to this, but here are some thoughts. Please note that these method of evaluation a price aren’t cumulative. You choose only one method.
1) In Hollywood, an “idea” for a motion picture is worth a minimum of about $25,000. I know this because a few years ago I met a writer who went to studios and pitched one-line concepts. If the studio liked the concept, “A story about a homeless man who lives under the Statue of Liberty,” they’d pay him $25,000. Now, this was eight years ago when I met the pitch artist, so if you adjust for inflation, you might be able to get that raised a bit.
This number gives you a minimum. If you’re a no-name author who just sold a short story, and the producer wants to base a movie on your story idea, but this is going to be a very low-budget production, then this gives you the floor amount for just about any property. more »
The Shadows of Indian Summer, by Kevin Lazarus
Kevin Lazarus in Carthage Falls, photo by Penelope Knight
(From: The Dark Side of Carthage Falls, the Anthology – by Kevin Lazarus)
Indian summer was in the air. Unusually warm for October in Carthage Falls; the enigmatic Carthage Falls—the inexplicable Carthage Falls. Golden leaves spotted with orange, both in the trees and everywhere on the ground; piles of leaves inviting unbridled play. And oh how I wanted to play!
My newest friend, Brett and I, stood at the edge of the Orchard staring down a grassy path leading into a clump of old Cherry trees. They were unkempt, tall and straggly—unlike so many of the other orchards in Carthage. They were now wild and overrun with vines and various other trees that clearly didn’t belong.
Brett nudged me—taunting me. “Scared?” he laughed. And then in an incessant tone said: “there ain’t nothin’ to be afraid of in there! Besides—it’s the fastest way home.”
The fastest way home? Now that was tempting. That long walk home from school was frustrating. It cut right into the middle of what little time I had after school with my friends. Not to mention that the other way was tiresome. Once more I inspected the path surrounded by tall dead grass; shrouded by the low lying braches from the trees, and the dark opening, that for some unknown reason fascinated me.
And while a lot of the leaves had fallen to the ground, it wasn’t enough to see where the path actually traveled. I could only imagine. And considering the distance that I normally had to walk, I suspected that even this shortcut wasn’t all that short.
Off to the side there was an abandoned house. Its shaker siding was broken in many places and falling onto the ground. Every window in it had been smashed. And an old curtain dangling from the corner of one of them was slowly flapping in the afternoon breeze. Its material was dingy with black smudges and full of holes. Next to that there was an old singlewide trailer; the door wide open, swinging back and forth while making the most unpleasant raspy noise. I felt an uneasy chill as I listened to it. more »
Night Stalker in Carthage Falls, by Kevin Lazarus
(From: The Dark Side of Carthage Falls, the Anthology – Kevin Lazarus – by Kevin Lazarus)
What I am about to tell you is the beginning of a series of truly mysterious events that happened to me when I was very young. I have told these stories to very few during my lifetime and refrain from using the name of the town out of consideration for friends who might still live there; who also experienced similar events. What I am about to reveal to you is the truth.
Autumn Shadows
The onset of fall came early that year, ushered in by windy nights and chilled breezes. Even at the age of eight I knew it meant that the snow would fly early and that it was going to be a long winter. As with most autumns, the sun would set earlier with each day. We had just moved to this town because it was close to my step-father’s work. I will call the town Carthage Falls for the sake of a name. We moved into a new house that had just been built in a new development on the side of a mountain in Carthage Falls. As I would learn later in life, this little town was old and had a dark legacy well known among the locals.
That summer had been full of new friends and new adventures—and I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want to go to a new school or have a new teacher. Things at home weren’t all that great, so I didn’t want to be there either. I would stay as long as I could at my friend’s, even into the fall, well after school had begun—when night would come early. That’s when it started, on one of those long walks home—in the dark—when I first realized that strange sensation, that I wasn’t alone. more »
How Hollywood Decides to Make Your Book Into a Movie, by David Farland
By David Farland
(From David Farland’s Daily Kick in the Pants—Making the Runelords Movie)
When a new writer puts out a book, you’ll often hear of immediate movie interest. I had interest in NIGHTINGALE, my most recent novel, before the book was ever released, for example.
This all sounds exciting, especially to a new author. You’ve just sold your first young adult novel, a big studio decides to option it, and suddenly you’re getting paid $60,000 per year “for nothing.”
Does this mean that a movie will be made based on your book? Possibly. If your book gets optioned at that price, there’s about a 1/10 chance. So what’s the deciding factor?
Fans. It’s all about the fans.
If your newly re-leased book comes out, and the sales are strong. That’s great. But you need about three to five million fans before the studios will decide that it’s a good bet. They want to feel assured that there are real customers out there, willing to pay for the opportunity to see this film. So they buy an option, tie up the rights, and wait. Of course, they buy rights for several other books, too. That way, no matter which horse is winning the race, they can jump on it’s back. more »
How I Got My Inspiration to Write Koicto, by Amy Jarecki
By Amy Jarecki
A friend of mine encouraged me to write a post about how I got my inspiration to write Koicto. It seems like I’ve really hyped it up over the past few weeks, but he said I should share the spiritual motivation that moved me to write:
I moved to Cedar City, Utah in February of 2010, and on one of my first jaunts out of town, I went to the Parowan Gap to see the ancient petroglyphs. As a descendant of the Cherokee tribe, I have always been interested in Native American culture and studied as much as I could get my hands on as a child.
Driving up to the Gap, I saw an array of rock faces carved with many stories, which I knew must contain a wealth of information. The plaque at the site said these petroglyphs were left by the Fremont Indians 1000 years ago. I wondered. At that stage I had never heard of the Fremont Indians (ridiculously named after the US explorer John C. Fremont, 1813-1890). more »
Reading in the Future, Guest Blog by New York Times Best Seller, David Farland
Friends I am taking a short but necessary hiatus (all work I promise) to finish two works in progress, Bone Stalker and Celeste, Eyes of the Demon. I’m in a bit of deadline crunch and need to focus. But…The Dark Side of Carthage Falls will continue! I promise!!! The series will pick back up where we left off Jan 1st (Now I know that for some of you this is not a good day, but think about this…when you come out of that New Years Eve induced coma a fun story will be waiting for you!). This week and next, and the week of New Years Eve, I will posting guest blogs and re-posting earlier chapters of The Dark Side…for my newcomer friends. My sincerest apologies and gratitude for your friendship! MERRY CHRISTMAS and HAPPY NEW YEAR!
IN THE MEANTIME–ENJOY this excellent guest blog from my friend DAVID FARLAND. He is a man of remarkable insight, and author of most excellent fiction and fantasy. His latest work Nightingale is now available. I’m sure that many of you have read his works…so enjoy his article! Thanks David!
Reading in the Future
Imagine that you put on your “reading glasses.” The glasses are dark, fitted with lasers and high-quality stereo earbuds, so that as you put them on, your entire field of vision is captured. A laser inside the glasses flashes a novel title on the interior surface of your eye.
Of course, the book you see is my book (why not, it’s my fantasy). The letters start small, off in the distance and they quickly draw closer to you, but they don’t stop, they wash right over you and just when it seems they’re all around you, they explode in a burst of light, “Nightingale, by David Farland.” You can hardly imagine what life was like before 3D. As soon as you read the last word, a laser with a computer link that tracks your eye movement cues the background music, and images begin to flash in your eye—a holographic video-clip of the character of Bron, as an infant, being abandoned outside the door of a cheap hotel in the Utah desert. The camera pans up to the face of his mother, Sommer, bitter and broken, with tears in her eyes. We flash to the prologue, where Sommer runs through a forest at night, her breathing deep, while dogs snarl and bark as they give pursuit. Fireflies rise up around her. more »
