The Write Angle: My Editors and Their Biggest Bone of Contention by Rodd Clark

You Are All Flickering Stars In My Heaven

Like most professions, authors get better with experience.  And from the beginning I can honestly state that I’ve had difficulties with POV changes for my characters.  Time and time again it has been a problem for me; mainly because I am stubbornly headstrong and refuse to be taught—even after I’m given tools for improvement. I confess I rely too heavily on my editors to remind me of my head-hopping flaws with a gentle slap on the wrist or stern comment in the manuscript editing phase.  And all while they’re attempting to drag me back into the readers’ point of view, like yanking a dog on a leash when both parties actually knew you were really heading to the vet for their annual shots.

“It’s just how my mind works,” I would say rather sheepishly.  But in truth, it was nothing more than an excuse for poor learning—because it was a mistake my editors knew (as certainly as I did) that it was surely going to come up again as a problem in the next book or sequel. That much was all but guaranteed.  Did I mention that I wasn’t easily taught?  I still find myself getting better in my own editing process, but usually it’s at a cost of content versus precision.  I labor over a paragraph or page much longer these days.  I struggle to convey the story, then hyper-evaluate verbiage and the choice of phrasing.  You can say a thing one way or you obsess over it to say it another way which sounds very different.

But if you are not careful, you will find that you have fallen down that old familiar rabbit hole until you are sitting there dazed and wild-eyed, staring at the monitor as if it could suddenly offer up some guidance on where to go next.  It’s that abyss that many writers fear, and I for one can relate.  But, then I tell myself that nobody ever told you writing was going to be easy.  And so I force myself to persevere and continue clicking away on the keyboard in that insane, blindly ambitious way that we’ve come to know.

But authors are readers too, and we enjoy a good book as much as the next fella.  We probably enjoy them more because we are analyzing the actual writing and the sentence structure, even as we fall into the storyline and become involved in our character’s lives.  We appreciate a good tale because we know the challenges it took to convey it to paper.  And, like my readers, I have my favorite authors.  I consider myself a fan of many writers and their works and have a crazy long list of TBR in my kindle to prove it.  But sometimes I kinda wish I’d never penned my first novel, or even any of the ones after that, because I don’t want to find myself judging another person’s story or fixating on the comparisons.  I just want to lose myself in the rich tapestry of words and absorb every nuance the author wished to share with me.

By the end of the day, I figure I am simply blessed.  Not for just having read a few hundred or so good stories in my lifetime, but also for adding to the catalogue of tales, having been granted the reward of putting my own stories into the ether for anyone to read.  For that I am grateful.  I have gained something real by the process, and I have been rewarded many readers, fans or friends in the long haul.  I join with other writers out there, knowing most are greater than my own skill or talent—but I am one of them nonetheless.   I had a sudden need to thank everyone for that recompense in my life, for all the readers and those who stuck with me through the journey.  Much like I said in the acknowledgment of my last book, for I am honestly proud to have been a part of it all and how much I have appreciated the love and support I have been given.  To my readers I say thank you…because they are all flickering stars in my heaven.

Ash and Cinders

Publisher: Driven Press (December 5, 2016)
Genre: Gay Romance, Mystery, Thriller, and Suspense
Blurb: “It’s just the devil’s share. When life evens itself out and every bad guy gets what’s coming to em’ . . . it’s one of the few balancing things life really offers.”—Gabriel Church

Gabriel Church has done a bad, bad thing . . . and normally that doesn’t bother him too much. But everything changed when he met Christian Maxwell. Chris became his unholy grail. The thing he sought more than any other treasure, yet still a priceless pearl beyond his reach. Nothing he does seems to solidify any prospect of them being able to remain together, to live that happily-ever-after story. Even if he were to make a promise to stop his killing in the name of God, it would still only be a salty futility to wet and tempt his lips.

Christian Maxwell discovered a damaged soul inside Church, with a goodness plumbed somewhere below the visible surface. He saw pain shadowing his killer like some trailing footprint left moist in the sand. But he failed to recognize each victim, or the costs of every action the fugitive took for granted. He simply pushed those faceless victims to the dark recesses of his mind, hiding them from plain view as if they were discarded things, recollections intentionally forgotten.

The one thing Church knows with certainty is the writer is the only person who really knows him, and the only man other than himself who possibly understands where they are both headed. But life is about to get more twisted and dangerous. It begins with a backwoods Deputy Sheriff and that same ill-fated chance that always prevented him from slowing down his pace or finding a peaceful place to rest with Chris Maxwell by his side.

About the Author

Rodd lives in Dallas, TX and can be reached through his web presence at RODDCLARK.COM.

He enjoys the M/M Mystery, Romance and Thriller genres but has varied interests and enjoys many varied types of books. With a dark and distinctively disturbing voice he creates characters that are flawed yet intriguing; such as the M/C of Gabriel Church in his Romantic Fiction “Rubble and the Wreckage”, and carried to the newest chapter “Torn and Frayed”, as well as the third and final Gabriel Church Tale titled,  “Ash and Cinders”.