Jeff Cutler – columns, essays and opinions

Attention span.

Mine’s short, but I refuse to refer to it as an ADD or ADHD situation as I believe those are mythical conditions created by a lazy physician and parent base. We’ll explore that opinion in another column…if I have enough where-with-all to remember.

My contention today is that it’s time to simplify. Everything. As soon as possible. There are certainly external factors forcing my hand in this decision, not the least of which are family illnesses, the cohabitation situation at my mansion and my completely frantic workload.

I take the blame for these items – except the health issues – because I’ve spent the last month working on my first novel. I finished it and have been quietly gloating the past few days. But now it’s time to get to work.

In order of importance, I must…

Write blog entries for the majority of my neglected 14 blogs;

Organize the Grampys.org site so that we can take registrations online and put up fantastic auctions;

Edit the aforementioned novel. I expect it will go through two rounds before I’m even ready to share it with my yet-to-be-named agent*;

Write a feature article for Gatehouse on holiday entertainment gift options – CDs, DVDs, and other gifts;

Finish my meeting schedule for vendor interactions while at CES in January;

Get fitted for a suit for sitboaf’s wedding;

Shop for holiday gifts – Channukah and Christmas;

Find and gobble some pumpkin pie (as nobody thought to bring any to Thanksgiving.

If you have suggestions for any of these tasks, *or are an agent looking for a literary novel – the fictional memoir of a boy whose life was shaped by the influence of his seven sisters, please contact me in the comments here.

If you’re an editor still looking for a reporter on the floor of CES in Las Vegas in January, let’s talk. My dance card is pretty full now, but I might be able to assist you before or after the event with research I’ve already completed or planned meetings.

Talk to you all soon. Head down now, gotta work.

Keep reading!

ILLUSTRATING my complete lack of attention span…the main reason I wrote this was because I have just been looking at the plethora of bookmarks and links to other sites in each of my browsers. I’m headed to clean those up – BEFORE ANY OF THE OTHER TASKS. Wow. Talk about ADD – or don’t!

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I’ve completed the Nanowrimo challenge and written my 50K words in the month of November. Now it’s on to editing and smoothing out the manuscript.

I can’t put into words – maybe because I’ve used so many in the past three weeks – how great this feels and how energizing this task has been.

Thanks for your support and I welcome anyone to tackle this challenge next year.

Now I’m off to put some content – not the novel, just content that’s been sitting in the back of my mind – onto the 14 blogs I had chugging alone happily until the novel took over my fingers.

Keep reading!

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It’s about 11:55 on Wednesday night and I just wrapped up my writing for the night. OK, this is also writing but it’s stream-of-consciousness and easy to jot down.

I wanted to share with you a quick thought about my writing during NaNoWriMo. Each night when I finish up a paragraph or a sentence, I do so with the intent of leaving something in the tank.

This, presumably will allow me to jump back in the next day and churn out another 1700 words. By the way, I’m now up to 19,834. And that’s the problem.

Now that I wrapped up for the night (and these words are applied through WEDNESDAY, so I now have another 1700 to write because it’s past midnight) I see that I’m only 166 words away from 20,000. That’s pretty awesome.

But it’s also a little odd that I felt compelled to stop before that milestone. Is it a safety move so when I write on Thursday I’ll just blast through that measuring stick and end the day with 21,000+?

Is it fear of that 20,000-word barrier?

Not sure on either count. But I do know my hands are tired and I need a nap. So I’m leaving some vapors in the tank and I’ll see you here again soon.

If you’re doing NaNoWriMo too, keep up the good work!

If you’re not, I urge you to enjoy and make the most of whatever you’re working on.

Keep reading!

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Not in the election, because by the time most of you read this you’ll have voted. No, words are piling up nicely in my quest to complete NaNoWriMo.

Look over in the right sidebar and see the wordcount widget. It shows you where I stand after four days of participating in the 2008 NaNoWriMo event.

Unfortunately, my novel writing is interfering significantly with my other writing. I’ve let this blog and the others languish a little in the name of creating my first novel.

Yes, I’m already a published non-fiction author, but fiction is different. I’ve create a universe in my head (like that’s any different from how I go through life) and I’m moving the characters around on digital paper.

Unlike reporting on events or interviewing people, fiction taxes your mind because you’re compelled to transport yourself into different shoes with each sentence and piece of dialogue. So far I’ve been a set of parents, an 11-year-old boy (not too hard for me), teenage women, an old lady with a found kitten and a number of other characters. And that’s just four days in. At this rate I’ll compile the experiences of the world by the time they’re done counting the votes in Ohio.

If you’ve got a novel-writing story to share…or a tip on keeping the motivation going for other writing projects while staring down the barrel of something as big as NaNoWriMo…please put it in the comments.

Chat to you sort of soon. Tonight I’m Twittering the election at WBUR Radio in Boston. It’s light writing, but I’m gonna count it as some type of participation.

Keep reading!

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Years ago I was a guest speaker to Mrs. Cordani’s second-grade class in Beverly, Massachusetts. I won’t lie and say the experience changed me, but I will tell you that it taught me a lesson.

Know your audience.

I went into the classroom prepared to twist and mold little minds and left there with a new understanding of how a second-grader thinks.

In my hand as I entered were the latest two Laura and Tony Mysteries (author Jeff Cutler of course), and I also brought with me my Indiana Jones hat and a colorful button-down shirt.

When prompted by Laura Cordani, I read my story to the class and was thrilled to hold them in rapt attention for two stories totalling approximately 2000 words. Then I asked the class if they wanted to help me write the next Laura and Tony mystery.

A roar was returned from the kids, so I asked them each to come up with two words. They were to place one word on each of the two index cards I passed out and then return these cards to me at the front of the room.

What do you think 50% of the cards had written on them? Right. Each child’s name. What comprised the other 50%? Exactly! Dinosaurs, Leprechauns, Ponies and Firemen.

Talk about a challenge. But I took my medicine like a pro and promised them that I’d mail a story to them for Mrs. Cordani to read. And the story would contain each and every word that they put down on the cards.

Here’s what I came up with….

The Scavenger Hunt Mystery
by
Jeff Cutler

Laura looked at the list in her hand and shrugged her shoulders.
“What can we do?  Getting everything before five o’clock is impossible.”
Her friend Tony was sitting next to her on the wooden bench and he agreed.
“Yeah,  Some of these things aren’t even from around here,” he said.  “Like a Leprechaun.  Where can we find one of those?”
“I don’t know,” said Laura.  “But we better start or we won’t even have a chance of finishing.”
The two kids were part of an exciting class exercise called a scavenger hunt.  Each team was given a list of items and an instant camera.  When they found an item they would take a picture of it and then turn in all the pictures at the end of the day.  The pair with the most pictures was the winner.
Laura got up from the bench and Tony walked slowly behind her as they started the hunt.
“What’s the first thing we have to get?” asked Laura.
Tony looked into his hand at the list and saw the word ‘action’.
“How can we take a picture of action?” he asked.
“Easy.  If you go way down the sidewalk and then start running towards me, I’ll take your picture.  Running is action.”
“OK,” he said and soon the pair had one of the items crossed off the list.
“What’s next?” said Tony.
“It says we have to find a basketball.  Let’s go to the playground.  Somebody must be playing basketball there.”
So Tony and Laura continued their fantastic adventure down at the playground.  When they got there a boy named Ryan was playing by himself under a tall metal hoop.
“Ryan,” yelled Tony.  “We need to get a picture of your ball.”
“Can I be in the picture?” asked Ryan.  He had a big ego.
“No,” said Laura.  “We only need a picture of the ball.”
Reluctantly Ryan passed the ball to Tony who put it down on the ground for Laura to photograph.  She quickly took the picture then asked Tony how many things were left on the list.
“Too many,” he said.  “We have to find dinosaurs, silver, gold and a volcano.”
“Wow.  This is getting tough,” said Laura.  “Hey!  How about the library?  They have books on everything.  We can find what we’re looking for and take a picture of the picture in the book.”
“That’s a great idea.  Let’s go.”
The big glass doors to the library were wide open when they got there so the two friends went right in.  After going up and down aisles pulling books off the shelves they got a book about almost everything on the list.  Then Laura started snapping pictures.
When she finished they had a pile of photos showing Queen Elizabeth, fire, ghosts, jewels, a lantern, the Easter Bunny, the town of Quincy, a rabbit, a spotlight, thunder and lightning and even the volcano.  The one thing they were missing was a photo of Shaquille.
“He’s a famous basketball player,” said Tony.  “How come there aren’t any books about him?”
“Maybe there is one,” said Laura, “but we don’t have any more time.  We have to go hand in our stuff.”
Tony looked at the clock and nodded frantically.  “Let’s go.  We only have ten minutes.”
Next to each other they ran down the sidewalk to the school yard where everyone was supposed to meet.  Gasping for breath Tony and Laura fell on the grass when they reached the swing set.  Melanie, Sarah and Melissa were already there and Taylor and Tessa came running up as the teacher blew her whistle and yelled.
“Children get in line and show me your scavenger hunt pictures.  The team in first place will get free ice cream for the rest of the school year.”
Tony looked at Laura and whispered, “I think we’re going to win.  No one else was at the library so we must have the most pictures.”
“Cross your fingers,” said Laura.  “We’re next.”
The teacher examined the photos the pair had taken and congratulated them on their ingenuity in using the library.  Smugly Tony and Laura sat down and waited for the final team to hand in their list.
At last the counting was done and the teacher said she had a winner.
“Boys and girls, the champions of the scavenger hunt, with a great performance, are Alex and Henry.”
“How could they win?” asked Tony loudly.  “We had everything on the list except Shaquille.”
“Tony, you and Laura did very well,” said the teacher.  “But Henry’s mother just had a baby named Shaquille and that’s how Alex and Henry won.”
Tony and Laura looked at each other and made a face.  And at the same time they said, “We’ll win next time.”

So, the next time you’re putting together a presentation or a reading (assuming you’re on that track), think about who you’re speaking to. And then adjust your expectations and maybe your approach.

Because – as I learned – no colorful shirt or leather adventurer’s hat is going to distract a gradeschooler from the important things. Their name and the amazing animals and things that are already running around in their little heads.

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At my office away from the office (Panera), I tried to see how easy it would be to write 2000 words on a cohesive topic.

The exercise was part of the NaNoWriMo event coming up in less than 15 days. That’s right, National Novel-writing Month is November.

Part of my anxiety – aside from the actual word-count issue – is topic. I’m a font of silly ideas, smart commentary and unique introspective conversation starters. But that’s where it ends.

The stuff I usually write are concise and powerful 600-775 word diatribes. How can I hope to create characters, plot, description and wild action in chunks of 650 words? Further, how will I paste the whole thing together well enough to entice a major agent or publisher to take a flyer on my project?

It can’t be that hard, can it?

I mean, at every Tweet-up, cocktail party, family gathering and trip to the dentist, people bludgeon me with their ideas for books once they learn that I’m a professional writer.

Sure, I get paid to write and have done so since the days of green screens and mimeograph machines. But that doesn’t mean I’m a modern-day literary Midas.

Just look back over this rant and count the number of times I’ve used a hyphenated descriptor. That’s amateur hour, but you must concede me the errors in style as I’m trying to pound out the characters.

Nimble fingers are necessary. Just like a toy boat will tangle your tongue, you should try writing alliteration always. Or don’t.

How many words is that? 900? Not even?

C’mon. I’m going to have to do twice this amount AND make it tell a story. I think what I need is some acid. Or at least a lucid dream.

Thank god it’s Friday and I won’t have to think about this heinous challenge until Monday when I’ll be limbering up my fingers again.

What?

NaNoWriMo requires you to write EVERY day of the week? That means my trip to NYC mid-month will include some frantic banging of the keys.

And TurkeyDay will make me look like Mike Felger in a previous life. Anti-social wanker with his laptop at every family event. But it’s for the greater good.

And whatever I end up with next month better be good. And it better be greater than this collection of words.

Every day.

All month long.

Until I reach 50,000 words.

Yikes.

Keep reading…I’ll keep typing.

*Leave your thoughts on NaNoWriMo in the comments. And let me know if you’d like me to dump my daily words right here on the blog. It will give you a chance to see the novel as it travels along a path from concept to abysmal reality.

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Andrea lifted the ring off the hook carefully so she didn’t disturb the belt. Each key felt cold and large in her small hands. She pressed them flat against her colorful dress to keep them silent. Silver and bronze shards of color were visible against the backdrop of pink cotton.

The car sat on the grass, anxiously peering down the dirt road, morning dew making the rusted hulk glisten. Andrea didn’t see a car, instead the metal frame and engine were home base. A symbol of safety two dozen feet away.

The gentle slide of her feet on worn wooden floorboards and the rolling, choking snore performed by Andrea’s father were the only sounds in the house. She crept to the door and didn’t glance back.

Cool air ricocheted off her tiny calves raising bumps all over Andrea’s body. She didn’t feel the cold ground beneath her feet because of the scar tissue on each sole. The path to the car was clear—through long stalks of grass and across rutted gravel.

A slap of a screen door froze Andrea. But it wasn’t her house, a neighbor had just wandered out to get the newspaper or water the dog.

It took only four more steps to reach the car.

A faded blue, the car’s finish was rusted. A silver word in script was affixed to the panel in front of the driver’s door—it said Plymouth. The torn fabric of the bench seat in front allowed Andrea to see the yellowed padding inside. She pulled the door open slowly and climbed inside.

The door shut with a click and Andrea sighed. Nearly safe, she took her time sorting through the keys. In a few seconds she had located the right one and stuck it into the ignition. Then she adjusted herself in the seat and grabbed the wheel.

With a quick twist, the car rumbled to life. It shuddered and tossed blue smoke out of the tailpipe, but the engine settled down nicely and began to purr.

Andrea reached for the metal shifter on the steering column. She wrapped her tiny hand around it and began to pull when the door opened.

One rough hand clamped around her arm and another yanked the key from the ignition. The Plymouth went silent.

The journey to the house took seconds as she flailed and squirmed. Her feet touched the ground twice, but most of the trip she was just hanging from a meaty hand that dragged her through the long grass.

He dropped her in a heap near the recliner. It was in worse shape than the car seat, she thought. Threads were broken up and down its arms and springs stuck out of the bottom and scratched the floor.

Replacing the keys on the hook, he carefully hefted the belt. The only wear on it was where it had been bent in half hundreds of times, and where contact with human flesh had made it shiny in one spot.

She saw that it was doubled up in his hand and Andrea propped her feet up on the chair, soles toward the ceiling. She looked away as he drew his arm back.

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