Author: Nicole Luttrell

I'm a speculative fiction writer. That means I write about dragons, ghosts and spaceships. Sometimes I write about the ghosts of dragons on spaceships.

Bad writing in good books

Today’s image is from Eli Digital Creative

Let’s talk a little bit about good books. Books that you just sit down and devour. Books you can’t stop loving, can’t stop reading and can’t wait for the sequel to come out. 

There are lots of these books, thank goodness. My world would be a much different and much darker place without them. I don’t want to say my entire life revolves around stories. But I’m a writer who’s hobbies include reading, watching good tv and listening to fictional podcasts. So, most of my day is taken up with stories.

Some works of fiction are just perfect. Perfect writing, perfect story, perfect characters. They’re funny, deep, and stick with you for years. Things like The Giver, or Hunger Games. These were triumphs of good writing and good story.

Getting all of those parts down, though, is tricky. Most stories miss the point on at least one or two of those categories. 

Some of those faults can be forgiven. I think of it in terms of stability. A table standing on four legs is perfectly stable. Let’s say those legs are dialog, story, writing and character. If a piece of furniture is standing on only three legs, let’s say story dialog and writing, it’ll probably still do fine. 

With one exception. I can love a book with bad characters. I can love a book with bad writing. I can even love a book with bad dialog, though it might be the sort of love I don’t talk about much. Sort of like my love of processed sugar. 

But I cannot, until my dying day, love a book that doesn’t have a good story. 

That’s what it all comes down to. If the story is no good, all the flowery writing and great dialog in the world won’t save it. 

So if story is on top of the list of importance, what’s on the bottom? Well, this might be surprising, given my profession. But it’s the writing. 

I will overlook bad writing in a heartbeat. Though I do work to elevate my writing, I don’t care so much if other authors didn’t.

Let me give you some examples. There is a trilogy of books called The Looking Glass Wars. I devoured all three of them, and I wish there were more. I loved the story, loved the characters. They turned the Mad Hatter into this ultra-cool assassin and I was here for every single page of it. Alice as a general, with Dopple and Ganger? Yes, all day.

The writing in the books was, sad to say, awful. The dialog was unrealistic and childish. I could have used up a few red pens making edits and corrections in just one of the three books. 

But they were good stories. And that’s what saved them. 

As another example, let’s look a little bit at The Exorcist. It’s a great story, but the writing is so bad! I’m reading it now, and I swear William Peter Blatty has never met a child and never heard another soul have a conversation in his life. 

That being said, this is one of the most beloved horror novels of all time. 

I’m not saying that we should strive to write badly. I’m just saying maybe the focus should be on the story first and the writing in the third draft. 

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Why Shitt’s Creek works

Normally I stick to speculative fiction on this site. But frankly, I think everyone needs a feel-good show right now. And since I just watched all of Shitts Creek in the span of like, a week, I wanted to bring it to your attention.

I didn’t watch this show as it was coming out. I was barely aware it existed. But, being at home more than ever we were running out of shows to watch. So we thought we’d just check out the first episode, see what it’s about.

And we were hooked from there.

So let’s break it down. Let’s talk about why this show was so good. And why I hope to see a lot more like it.

Let’s start, as always, with the characters. Every character on the show is lovable. But Davidalso sort of awful. Let’s take David, my favorite character, as an example. He’s self-centered, obsessed with material goods and has the weirdest fashion sense I have ever seen. When in a relationship he’s weirdly distant and clingy at the same time.

He’s also a really good big brother. While Alexis has been running all around the world and getting herself into all sorts of trouble, he’s been at the ready to help her. He’s still there for her, even if he’s there in the most acidic way possible. 

David also has a head for business. He’s smart, good with numbers, and understands what people want. 

If a character is too good, we can’t stand them. It’s unrealistic. And it sort of makes us hate ourselves a little by comparison. But if a character is too bad, we don’t like them. I don’t like watching someone be cruel to others and mess their life up time and time again. A blend of good and bad is entertaining, comforting and realistic. If we can see that other people are flawed but still good, then we can allow ourselves to be as well.

Most of the shows I watch are kind of horrible. Rick and Morty, Dead Like Me, Angel, The StevieOrville. Bad things happen, characters have real falls from grace. People get addicted, divorced, maimed, fired, lose their kids, go to jail, get beaten half to death, or the whole way.

Nothing really bad ever happens on Schitt’s Creek. Yes, there is tension. Yes, there are problems. But nothing that is emotionally scarring. And right now, when there are so many awful things going on, that’s a comfort.

However, that doesn’t mean that there isn’t growth and change. It’s hard to see if you just go episode by episode. But, in the same way we change without really noticing, the characters do too. The care they feel for each other and the town deepens. Their concern for other people widens. They open themselves up to loving others. They learn the value of earning what they have, which they’ve never had to do before. By the end, they’re still themselves. But they’re better, deeper people too.

So what do you think? Have you watched Schitt’s Creek? What other feel-good shows would you recommend? Let us know in the comments below!

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Four reasons you don’t have to be on all of social media

Today’s wonderful cover art is by Gerd Altmann.

I hope you’re seeing this post right now. I mean, I always hope you see my posts. I’m a vain introvert. So I want you to see my work, but not talk to me about it IRL.

But if you often find my posts on Facebook or Instagram, I’m afraid I might have some bad news for you. You won’t find me there anymore. Over the weekend I deleted my Facebook and Instagram accounts and will no longer be on either of those platforms. 

Sorry, not sorry. 

There is only so much ignoring of hate and encouraging of life endangering lies I can take. And that’s all I’m going to say about that. 

I told you all that to tell you this. Creators, influencers, business owners, lend me your eyes. You don’t have to be on every social media platform. 

I mean it, you really don’t. You don’t have to be on any social media if you don’t want to be. Being on too many might hurt your brand. Here are four reasons why you might want to remove some platforms from your social media plan.

Different tools for different jobs

For those who aren’t super familiar with the different platforms, they all engage with people in different ways. Twitter is for sending short messages of under 240 characters. Pinterest is for sharing images and posts about how to do stuff. 

Think about what you’re trying to do on a platform. Do you want to grow a following? Interact with people? Share information? Share videos or pictures? 

Personally, I want to share information, have conversations with people and let people know information about my books. So I use Twitter. I also write a lot of posts about how to do stuff. So I use Pinterest. Use the platform that’s made to do what you need social media to do for you.

Your audience doesn’t go there

This one relies on you knowing who your audience is. And you really should know who your audience is. Where do they hang out online? What hashtags are they using? More importantly, where are they not? Because if the people you want to reach aren’t where you’re posting, they’re never going to see it.

Your mental health does matter

The world is a lot right now. Honestly, it sort of feels like every damn time I turn around there’s some other worse thing happening to us. 

Step one of fixing things is realizing there’s a problem. So we can’t turn off the news. But we can take a break. We can control how we consume information. For some people, Twitter is going to be too much. I get that. So if it’s stressing you out to use social media, take a break from it. Focus on places that are more ideas and less news, like Pinterest. I love Pinterest. It’s like hanging out with a big group of people who just want to make cool shit. 

I am all about Twitter, but I’m not glued to it. While I like to stay in the loop, I have specific times when I turn it off. When I’m at my day job, when I’m writing. When I’m cooking or eating a meal with my family. When I’m going to bed for sure. 

What I’m saying is, mute your notifications. And if you’re never feeling good when you go on a platform, stop going. Your mental health is more important than anything but your physical health and safety. 

More time for the platforms you actually like

Your time is finite. My time is finite. I don’t have time in my day to fuss with things I don’t want to do. Sorry. I’m turning thirty-four in a few days and I’m just over it. I don’t need to be on Ticktock, don’t want to follow people on Snapchat. I like Twitter. I like Pinterest. I like the social media platforms I only use privately. And I don’t have a huge amount of time to be spending on social media to start with. Do you? 

So if I only have ten minutes to check my email and scroll through something, I’m sure as hell not going to spend that time somewhere I’m not happy and cut my time on places I want to be.

Social media is all about connecting with people. I love that I can chat with people all over the world. I love that I can find other people interested in the same things I love. Most of all, I love that my stories can reach out to touch people everywhere. And I’m just not going to be on any social media platform that I don’t love.

You shouldn’t be either. 

By the way, if you do want to follow me on social media, you can find me onTwitter, Pinterest and Goodreads. 

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Hard Times

Today’s cover art is by Colin Behrens.

I spent a lot of time staring at my computer screen this past week. It was hard to get words out, hard to put them into the world. 

I try to put out good things. Light, funny, informative, informational. That’s what I bring to the world, I hope. 

Right now it’s really hard to see the light, let alone shine it around. 

That’s not normally me. Normally I can see the brightness in everything. I rely heavily on the Yin Yang for comfort, as it reminds me that there is a little good in every bad and a little bad in every good. That’s the way of the universe. 

So I’m trying to find the good right now. It’s hard when the people who are meant to protect us are turning against us. It’s hard because I never thought I’d see the sort of things I’m seeing right now on American soil. I never thought I’d see peaceful protestors teargassed by an American president so he can blaspheme the bible in front of a church. I am angry, scared, embarrassed. I want so badly to help.

There is light, though. Even as this year gets worse and worse by the day, there is light to be found. We just have to dig a little harder.

Here’s the light I see. Let me reflect it to you so that you can reflect it to others.

All across America, people are standing up for our fellow man. We’re standing up and saying that we will not accept this way of life. We will not allow innocent people to be murdered in the street by police officers. We will protect and defend. We will join hands (metaphorically) and stand together. We will, above all, insist on justice being served.

If you can protest safely, please do. If you can donate to charities helping to pay bail for protestors, please do that. 

No matter who you are, you can let your voice be heard. Share reliable information online. If you see something happening, film it and share it. Share kind words. Defend people being bullied or terrorized, online or in life. Reach out to your local representatives and let them know you demand justice. If someone around you behaves or speaks as though this doesn’t impact them, let them know that they are wrong.

We are not safe if one of us is in danger. We are not at peace if one of us is hunted. We must protect each other as citizens of America. As citizens of the world. We have an obligation to help each other.

And if it’s hard to find the light, please remember these words from John Stewart. 

These are hard times. But they are not end times.

We’ll weather these hard times together. If you need help, or if you’re having trouble finding a way to help, please reach out to me. 

I’ll do what I can.

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Why Man in High Castle worked, until it didn’t

I am a big lover of alternate history. I also have this weird fascination with stories about WWII. So it’s no surprise that I enjoyed Man in the High Castle. It seemed almost custom made for me. What would have happened if America had lost WWII?

This isn’t the first story to explore that theory. Hell, I don’t think it was the twenty-fifth to do it. But despite going over material most of us have already read before, the creators of this show managed to do it in a new and fresh way. A way that grabbed my attention and the attention of millions of others.

MHC JuliannaUntil that is, they lost it.

But we’re not to that point in the story yet. Let’s talk first about what the show did that worked.

Let’s start with the Smiths, who could be considered the first family of the Reich in America. The parents are John and Helen Smith. They are the picture of American 1950’s perfection. Except, of course, for the fact that they are all nazis.

This is part of how the story crept under my skin. John’s everything a good American man should be. Good at his job, a loving father. But there he is with a swastika on his arm. Oh, and the little matter of killing people who oppose him. There’s Helen, the picture of a 50’s housewife, but she has nazi buttons on her collar. It’s a reminder of how close we all are to that sort of life.

Life is good for the Smiths. Until it isn’t. Until their son is diagnosed with an illness that MHC John use this onemarks him for death. This brings to light a very simple and horrific truth that this show brings to light quite well. This sort of life works very well for people who fit in. For people with the right skills, right skin color, right body. For those who don’t fit into a very specific mold, this sort of world is heartless and unbearable. The part of the show that worked best for me, the part that I cared about the most, was watching the Smith family break until they didn’t fit anymore.

The other sides of the show were just as deep. Julianna, an American living in the Japanese controlled West Coast, dives deep into the world of the man in the high castle. She finds out that she and a few others can switch between different alternate universes, bringing back home videos to inspire hope. 

All of this blended in a science fiction alternate history story that was riveting.

Until the last season, when the creators came to a confusing conclusion.

They decided to take everything good about the story and throw it out the window. Or, taking it to such an extreme as to be no longer enjoyable.

They also made the baffling decision to murder several beloved characters. 

The story focused more and more on Juliana, which I wasn’t thrilled with. She’s always been the most unlikable character. They also separated the characters, going so far as to trap one character into an alternate universe. There, she finds characters that we know in a specific way acting the lives they might have had if America had won WWII. You know, our time. While that was a fetching concept for an episode or two, it didn’t hold up. 

All in all, I didn’t even finish the last season. For a show that had me sobbing over the death of a Nazi youth, it worked hard to just make me not give a damn anymore.

Falling From Grace eBookFalling From Grace is available now! Get it on Amazon.

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If your heart isn’t breaking right now, I don’t know why

Cover image by Free-Photos

This might be a little raw, a little less polished than my normal posting. I just can’t bring myself to go though the normal edites and time I put into a post.

I’m angry. Hell, I’m furious. And I’m also so, so tired of this.

Two videos are making the rounds online. Everyone’s seen them. Everyone’s talking about them. I’m sure I’m another voice in the crowd.

But damn it, I’ll make that crowd just a little louder if I can.

The first one was of a woman named Amy Cooper in Central Park, calling the police on a man named Christian Cooper asking her to put her dog on a leash.

I’m not going to go into detail about this. You’ve heard about it. If you haven’t, I’m surprised.

It’s sick, it’s disgusting. This woman has since been fired and had her dog taken away. I’m glad. I’d like to see charges brought against her for a false police charge.

If you think I’m overreacting, let me point something out to you. She called the police and lied to them about the situation. She did so knowing full well that she was endangering this man’s life.

And if you think that’s also an overreaction, you must not have heard about the death of George Floyd.

Just in case you missed this story, police officers knelt on the neck of this man until he was dead. They killed him. And they were fired. That is it. No charges brought, no real consiquences.

If you have heard of this story, understand that there are more stories you haven’t heard of.

The police get away with this because it’s acceptable. We recieve what we accept. Stop accepting this. Stop allowing American citizens to be murdered by police. When you see it, point it out. Shame it. The police officers who murdered George Floyd should be arrested. Amy Cooper should be charged. Stop allowing people to get away with these racist behaviors.

 

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It’s Falling From Grace Launch Day!

Here we are again, with a new book launch. Falling From Grace is available now on Amazon. It’s easily my favorite book to date, and I can’t wait to share it with all of you.

Hit me up on social media today, I’ll be answering any questions. And don’t forget, the first three Woven novels are all on sale this week.

Click here to get Falling From Grace

Click here to get Broken Patterns for free

Click here to get Starting Chains

Click here to get Missing Stitches

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Falling From Grace, Chapter Two

Grace leaned against the door frame between the bedroom and main room, watching Victor pack clothes into a bag. “Calvin thinks we will not be gone longer than a week, but I do not know,” he said, adding a leather pouch of dried meat to his bag. “I hate to give you a time because I do not want you to worry if we are later than that. Did you make that flat bread I asked for?”
“It is on the ledge above the fireplace,” Grace said, not bothering to stir herself to fetch it for him.

“Thank you,” he said, striding across the room to get it. “I got that new bar put on the door, but it is not going to do you any good if you do not use it. I cannot imagine anyone would fuss with you, but you never know.”

“I will be in the square with the other women most of the time, anyway,” Grace replied.

“But you will come back here at night,” Victor said.

“Do not go,” Grace replied.

She didn’t know what she expected him to do with this, but laughter wasn’t really a surprise. “Do not go? Calvin and I finally get Timur to give us some real work, and you are telling me not to go. Woman, have you lost your mind entirely?”

“This is death, what he is sending you to do. Marching into the Septan palace, dressed like a Calistar soldier? You will not survive, not a man going with you will.”

“That is foolishness,” Victor said. He stood, and clenched his fist. A blue shield of light manifested. They’d yet to find anything that could penetrate it. “I will come home, and so will Calvin. So will all of us going.”

“And what if you do not? What are the girls and Morgan and I going to do then, eh?” Grace whispered.
Victor was across the room in two strides. He swept her up into his arms, and his mouth found hers. “Darling, I have to do this. I did not become a Brother to raid food storage barns, and I will not do it anymore. Timur has given me a chance here to prove-.”
“Timur has given you nothing,” Grace hissed. “He has given himself a way to be free of you, Calvin, and every other young man who would defy him. He does not expect you to come back.”
“Perhaps not,” Victor said. “But I will.”
“Vicky, are you not ready yet?” Calvin called from outside.
“I am coming, hold on!” Victor replied. He released Grace reluctantly and grabbed his bag from the table. Grace followed him outside.
Calvin had already hitched his wagon. “Are you done crying over your woman yet?” he asked.
“Do not be jealous, just because I have one,” Victor laughed, tossing his bag into the wagon. “Where is Boris?”
“Saying goodbye to Nikita, still. We will pick him up on the way out of town,” Calvin said.
Grace decided to try Calvin next. She stood beside his seat on the wagon. “Calvin, think about this. What is the point of starting a war between Septa and Calistar? The aristocrats will just send poor sons to go fight for them.”
“But that is part of the plan,” Calvin laughed. “Do not worry your head, Grace. Look after the girls and Morgan, and we will be back soon.”
But Grace grabbed hold of the horse’s reigns. “What if none of you come home? What about Boris, leaving Nikita here with his babe?”
“Boris will come home,” Calvin said. “And so will I, and so will Victor. Do not be afraid, Sister. And let go of my horse, please.”

Grace released the reigns but didn’t move away. She felt shaken to her core, as Victor grabbed her up into a hug. “Stop fussing, woman,” he laughed, swinging her around. “This is a great mission.”
“And nothing is going to stand before this,” Calvin said. He clenched his hand, and a ball of light appeared. Unlike Victor’s, his light was no shield. It was a ball of energy that nothing could stand against.
“But what if Timur is sending you into a trap?” Grace cried.
At this, Calvin leaned down from the wagon seat to whisper in her ear. “That is the thing, though. He is, and we know it. When we return victorious, we will have a very, very different conversation with him about where our country is headed. And I do not think he will enjoy it.”
May, June, and Morgan crowded around the wagon, and Calvin sat up straight in his seat. June, the middle of Calvin’s children, had an ever messy braid down her back. Her brown dress was stained at the bottom with mud and at the knees with soot.
“Take care of each other, and stay out of trouble. We will be back in a week,” Calvin said.
“Do not tell them that,” Victor said, swinging into the seat next to Calvin.
“One week!” Calvin bellowed and clicked at the horse to send him on his way.
“Goodbye Da, be careful!” June called, waving at him. Grace joined the others in their farewells, feeling brittle. She watched as they rode to the other end of the village, stopping along the way to pick up Boris and a number of other men.
“Come on,” Grace said. “We might as well head to the square.”
June and May nodded, but Morgan said, “I am going to go hunting. The sun is barely up, I should be able to get some good meat for supper.”

“Oh really?” May snorted. “You are going to go hunting? And why would you waste the whole day like that, eh?”
“You ought to stay and help us weed the garden,” June said.
Morgan scoffed. “What do you need four people to weed the garden for? I will go and get us some meat. Grace, will you make a pie if I bring you a bird? Your crust is better than theirs.”
“I would need the goat milked,” Grace replied dully. “And I might need to churn butter, as well. Go and get your game if you can. Be careful.”
Morgan was gone in a moment to collect his traps and head into the woods.
“Might as well get the goat milked, then,” Grace said.
“You are not going to be the one this time, are you?” June asked.
“The one what?” Grace asked.
June sighed. “The one woman who cannot help but mope until the men get back. They always ruin the whole experience for the rest of us.”
Grace shook her head. She grabbed her bucket and went into the small enclosure next to the house where her goat resided. She was napping in the sun, but came fast enough when she heard Grace come in. Normally she would have been milked earlier, but Victor hadn’t had the time before he left.
“Are you going to stand there and complain at me the whole time I do this?” Grace asked, settling into her stool to milk the creature.
“Maybe. Why are you so upset, anyway? You have never been this way before.” June grabbed some hay from the pile next to the enclosure and started making a pile of it.

“You all seem to think that these men are invincible just because of a little magic,” Grace muttered.

A single scream rang out just as she was finishing with the goat. Grace only just managed to not spill any of the milk before running from the paddock. June was just a moment behind her.
“That is Yulia’s house,” June cried. The front door was wide open, and they could hear Yeva shouting for help inside.
Grace stopped on the threshold. Yeva was kneeling next to her grandmother’s chair. A cup of tea had fallen and shattered on the floor. Yulia was slumped in her chair, not breathing.

“I, I do not know what happened,” Yeva sobbed. “I just came in to check on her, and she was like this.”
“Was there something off in her tea?” June asked.
“I do not know. She might have stirred something in by mistake, look at her damned work table!” Yeva cried. She gestured to a table near the window, laden with herb bouquets and bowls. Always a thin wisp of a girl, Yeva seemed even smaller now in her fright.
“What am I to do, I am all alone now,” Yeva sobbed.
Grace considered the girl. She couldn’t remember saying more than a handful of words to her since she’d been born. She’d said enough to Yulia, screaming for her book back, for help, for anything the old woman might have been able to do for her.
“I was alone younger than you,” Grace said. “You will be fine.”
Yeva turned a tear stained face towards her, her eyes wide. “How?” she asked.
“That is not my concern. When Morgan gets back we will help bury your grandma. That is more than she bothered to do for me.”
Grace went back to her chores, leaving the girl no room to say anything more.

Want to keep reading? Falling From Grace will be released tomorrow. Here’s a link to order it now.

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