F. P. Dorchak

Speculative Fiction (New Weird) Author

Novels

Tragedy

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In The Darkness Do We Seek Light? (JiNKY Lim, A Silhouette of Sadness, [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons)
In The Darkness Do We Seek Light? (JiNKY Lim, A Silhouette of Sadness, [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons)
Why is it so much of what we read is tragic?

Why don’t we read more uplifting work?

Can tragedy also be uplifting?

Here’s the thing, for the most part (and there are exceptions) most people don’t like to read about daisies and butterflies. Alluding to the Seinfeld joke, we don’t like to read stories about nothing. Where nothing happens—nothing bad happens. Humans love conflict. Love the Human Spirit overcoming obstacles.

In short, we love conflict.

And the stories we write have to have some element of conflict in there. I mean, really, would you love to read about a girl who gets up, brushes her teeth, does her hair and makeup…goes to work, has a great day…comes home, eats dinner, watches some TV, then goes to sleep?

No. I really doubt you would. Where’s the fun in any of that?

What you really want to see is some action, tragedy, conflict!

You want to see her having trouble sleeping for a reason to be discovered later in the novel, walking around in the dark and surprising an intruder. You want to see this girl not being a pushover, and kicking ass as all her pent-up rage about her cancer-ridden mom dying in the hospital takes over her adrenaline-pumped-slight-but-spunky frame. You want to see her get through all the police legal tape, getting into work late and not talking about it, only to have a coworker discover her early morning activity on the news and broadcasting it to the office. You want to see her office stalker go wide-eyed and suddenly back off…also noticing the subtle defensive wounds and bruising her on her arms…and the knowing steely look our heroine is now giving him as he notices her eying him….

Yeah, that’s what you wanna read. Admit it.

So, that’s why novel writers have to write about tragedy and conflict and things that aren’t so nice and easygoing. Cause writing about good days just doesn’t cut it. Sure, good days are great for real life…but there’s an inner need for striving and overcoming obstacles in our DNA. Our souls. Reliving parts of our past, when we felt more alive and were not such an office drone. Or maybe it’s the excitement of such stories that hearkens back to other [reincarnational…yes, I went there…] lives where we had such conflicts. Maybe tragedies are hardwired into our genetics and we just can’t be helped but be stirred by them.

Or maybe they just make for more fun, exciting reads by the nature of the beast.

The Man With No Name

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Well-Heeled Magic. (By Julien Bertrand (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons)
Well-Heeled Magic. (By Julien Bertrand (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons)
The Man With No Name.

Magic Man.

He who sports work boots and flannel.

Mows his lawn at night.

This is a character I’ve written about in two of my novels, Sleepwalkers and Psychic, and a short story, “Tail Gunner.” The Man With No Name (aka “MWNN”) is a character I had the idea for way back. He makes himself known through…well, interesting means, which I don’t exactly want to give away. I have at least one more novel planned for his appearance. It would be in line with the previous two mentioned books. And even then he won’t be finished with by any stretch. My intent was to have him pop up in various pieces of fiction—short stories and novels. A crossover character. I like that idea and it’s quite in keeping with what he does. When I wrote “Tail Gunner” it was cool how he seamlessly incorporated himself into the story (he was the carnival’s Ticket Taker). He got his second name, “Magic Man” when I’d been driving to work one morning and passed by this van with “Magic Man” on its side. It just fit.

Talking about “Tail Gunner”…it still affects me on a creepy level.

Shiver.

Chicken skin.

Every time I go to the gym and walk by that now-hurtful-decible-levels-screaming-music-for-Zumba/whatever room where I first met my tail gunner, I look to that overhead fan. Yesterday (as I originally wrote this post, May 14th) that fan was spinning in an empty room (it isn’t usually spinning in an empty room). My tail gunner must’ve known I was gonna write about this.

Anyway, back to the MWNN. He is perhaps the coolest character I’ve ever written. He gets around…knows stuff…is kinda Forrest Gumpish in a certain way (think “JFK”). And he hearkens back to some of my earliest writing (my fifth manuscript of the 12 in whole or in part in my novel-length repertoire; only five are/will-be published, counting my current WIP). Back to when I was hot and heavy into the dream of getting published. The “halcyon days,” if the term be used. I was literally in the middle of creating all these new manuscripts, one right after the other. I’d finish one…then uninterruptedly start the next one. It was a wildly creative part of my life and I loved it! Now, I’m going over previously created material and publishing the better of them. There is at least one other trunk-manuscript I’d love to rework and publish, my second manuscript, Village Idiot. We’ll see….

But, I digress.

As the MWNN is sometimes wont to do!

So, who is this man with no name?

Though his origins are detailed in Psychic, he’s very much a part of me…or I’m a part of him? He embodies a lot of how I like to think of my perfect self: wears flannel, jeans, and boots. Does what he wants, when he wants…by slightly funky means. Helps others out. Filters out the bullshit. Did I mention he wears flannel? Sometimes a trickster. Always has a sense of humor.

He explores places most people aren’t interested in going…or are afraid to.

He’s bad-ass enough without resorting to weaponry, martial arts, or whammy shots.

And I love that he mows his lawn and weeds his garden at night.

Drinks iced tea. Loves his iced tea.

He is…the best part of me.

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I Can Work On My Novel….

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I'm Dyin' Here. (By Rafi B. from Somewhere in Texas : Flickr [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons)
I’m Dyin’ Here. (By Rafi B. from Somewhere in Texas : Flickr [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons)
Being a writer used to be unique and “different”…like being an astronaut used to be…but, now, well, everybody seems to be doing it.

“Hey, while traveling the world with my spouse, I think I’ll work on my novel….”

or

“Gee, now that I’m laid off, I can finally work on my novel….”

or

“My cousin’s brother’s girlfriend’s aunt knew a guy who knew this girl who made tons writing her first award-winning NYT’s best-seller romantic fantasy dystopian zombie mainstream young adult novel that actually went to auction….”

Was the uniqueness of writing something that attracted me to it? No, not even. It was always the whole writing bit that I’d just gravitated to…and it wasn’t like I was sitting there throwing darts at “Things to do When I Grow Up”…it was just something that organically emerged from within at a young age.

Right, like every thirty-something out there, today. Twenty-something. Teen-something. I’m waiting for the first Ga-Ga Doodle Book from an infant-something….

I’ve always played with words. Some would say I’m just playing with punctuation, too, but that’s another story.

So, what’s a unique job today? What can I shoot for when I grow up that is not commonplace, with all these millions now becoming astronauts and best-selling noveliers?

What could I do to make a living at The Unique?

Let’s see..I could be:

A snowplow driver.

A bounty hunter.

A magician.

Stuntman.

Police sniper.

Grave digger.

Life coach.

Animal actor…agent.

Coroner.

Dolphin trainer.

Elephant trainer.

Oooh…ice cream truck driver!

Zamboni mechanic.

Well, there are plenty of odd and weird unique jobs I could look into…but, clearly what I’m really looking for…is for all of you aspiring writers out there to take a hard look at any of the above interests.

Now.

Really.

So that I can get back to working on my own novels without all of your interference….

Righting Erotica

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This Novel's Got Legs---And, Well, A Few Other Things.... (By Jean-Christophe Destailleur [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons)
This Novel’s Got Legs—And, Well, A Few Other Things…. (By Jean-Christophe Destailleur [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons)
As I work on the my current work-in-progress (WIP)—the sex scenes—I realized that once I got past what I was actually writing (graphic as they are), that they were all “words.” And as such, I was (am) trying to put the best words forward. I am trying to make the best scenes possible—as I do with any of my work.

Words are words.

Yeah, some of this stuff is unnerving…but that’s what I want them to be.

Unsettling.

I want you all unsettled by what you read.

I want a little squirming going on.

That is what these scenes are about…on a “mechanical” level. They’re about “in-the-dark” behavior from everyday people. About behavior we might only think about…or do in the dark corners of our lives.

Admittedly, it’s one thing to think about some of this stuff, and (for some) an entirely different matter once written.

After all, writing something gives it permanence, right? Like voicing a thought?

Thoughts are hidden, our own. But once we voice them…write them out…its like they take on a whole new meaning. The phrase “Think before you speak,” comes to mind. And how we look at someone differently once they’ve spoken…the unspeakable….

Actions we only do in private are known only to ourselves…unless voiced or written. This is the kind of ground I’m treading.

I don’t read erotica, so I don’t know what’s acceptable, so maybe I’m really off base, here, with my thoughts. And those who do read erotica may think nothing of what I’ve done.  I’m sure my efforts are most likely quite tame in today’s erotica world…and that’s okay (though I consider what I’ve written not-so-tame at all to me….). Once I got into the writing of this novel, I liked that the erotica became what I thought of as “a different kind of erotica.” Granted, when I’d first written this novel, back in 1997, erotica most likely wasn’t what it is today…but I’d still like to think my work will hold up to itself (um, yeah, there is a pun here, you just don’t know about it, yet…) in today’s world.

I “just” want to be able to portray what my characters are going through in such a way that it…justifies the story…evokes powerful emotion…that you see a part of yourselves in them. That you squirm a little at what you’re reading…insidiously become one with the story…the scenes…the characters.

Okay, even the sex.

So, to that end, once I get past what it is I’m actually writing…I’m trying to write the scenes as best as possible. Use the best words. Invoke the best, most powerful imagery. To make each scene properly fit the story. The plot. The characters—

I’m trying to make the erotica right.

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Surrendering To The Role

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It’s funny how things in life work.

If we’re observant.

I don’t know how many of you really notice all the “coincidences” and synchronicities that abound out there, but I do my best to remain open to them…and I notice a lot of them in my life, so they have to exist in others’ lives. In fact, I believe they exist in all our lives.

After posting my Short-Lived Modeling post, one of my brothers tweeted a snippet from an interview with Bill Duke—which I added to the comments of my modeling post. It totally applies to the acting class I described there…but the more I thought about it, it also applies to writing.

Sorry about repeating some of the discussion from previous posts, but in my current WIP I’ve written about how I was initially embarrassed about the work, because I had to write graphic sex scenes. “Had to,” mind you. That I had gotten over that and was finally really “taking ownership” of the work in all of its psychic entirety. And this is true…but while going back over it (again and again…), I’d begun to question whether or not I’d truly surrendered fully to the story itself.

You see, in my life, even in my way of thinking—to which only I am truly privy to the actual images and thoughts I think—I never use certain words and rarely use others (you’re gonna see the “C” word, the “P” word, et cetera and some “very uncomfortable scenes”…)…yet in this WIP I have to. Or should, but in one or two instances actually found myself “pulling their punches,” goddammit.

And that bugged me!

Because I feel that this novel will severely kick ass, and if I lessen anything about it, I’ve cheated the story.

As I reworked this stuff, I kept thinking to myself, WWSK do?

WWSK?

What Would Stephen King Do.

He’d go there, I told myself. He would. But he would do it so it would fit the story, in that it wouldn’t seem like just some foul-mouthed punk trying get people’s “rocks off.”

So there are scenes, there are words that will offend the easily offended in this novel. There are scenes and words that will certainly raise the eyebrows of those who know me…because, yes, I’m “going there.” And I’m trying my damnedest to do it in the “best fit” for the story.

Because, in the end, it is all about the story.

I have to fully surrender to the story.

I have to “go there” and shock and anger and enlighten and entertain, and do what this story needs me to do without short-changing it a single shilling. I cannot cheat the story, cannot cheat the characters. I began this book in 1997 and it’s been on my mind ever since.

Should I publish it?

Ever?

What will people think about me if I publish it?

I just can’t care about that last one, the story is that important. But, also because of one other thought that continually echoes in my head, largely because of my wife:

How will you feel if you don’t publish it?

To be truthful, I don’t know that she ever voiced these particular words…but she uses similar wording for similar situations…

Do you really want to spend a portion of your life to get this [INSERT ITEM]?

Do you really want to spend a portion of your life doing this [INSERT ITEM]?

How will you feel if you don‘t do it?

So, now, I’m making up words my wife might say!

But, for the past 16 years these thoughts have whirled about in my head like an angry wasp. And nearly everyone I’ve bounced this stuff off of all say the same thing: if I feel so strongly about the story, I should do it.

Of course, I knew this.

But, you see, I was partially worried about how I would be perceived, much like Vladimir Nabokov agonized over, when he published Lolita. Now, my novel is nothing even close to what Mr. Nabokov wrote about, but I found the synchronicity of my discovery about his anguish too “coincidental” to ignore (I only found out about this last year, when I was “agonizing over” whether I should or shouldn’t publish this WIP).

And another thing:  when I made the decision way back in 1997 to write this novel, I considered this (also as I’ve previously stated elsewhere): I wanted to write something that would stretch my abilities as a writer. I’d written all kinds of paranormal and supernatural material. Graphic violence, that kind of thing, yeah, I “went there” in a pretty gnarly story or two that will most likely never see the light of day…but I’d never written about sex, and I thought, gee, sex is such a beautiful thing, in and of itself, why are we all so uptight about talking about it, reading it, et cetera? And I don’t mean the crass and degrading porno versions of it, but the loving, caring organic beauty of the act between people?

Not that I knew exactly what I’d be writing about…because, I didn’t, truly didn’t know what I was going to write about (I don’t outline)…but when I came up with the log line for what I was about to attempt to write, I knew there had to be some sex scenes involved. And, once I became engrossed in the actual writing, well, it became evident pretty fast that yeah, I really couldn’t avoid “going there” in getting this story out.

So, the thirty-eight-year-old me decided, I needed to write this book, to get past the embarrassment of writing about something that (at the time) did, indeed, embarrass me. To be the kind of writer I wanted to be, the kind that writes from the heart, the gut—that surrenders to the role—I had to be able to “go there” as stories demand.

I had to be able to get the job done.

Do my job.

And, I figured, if I could write graphic sex scenes…then I could write about anything!

I didn’t and don’t want to be known as a writer of erotic fiction (I do have four other novels out there)…though there is nothing inherently wrong with writing erotica (the genre genuinely doesn’t bother me), that is just not my goal. What I would like to be known for (in so far as all this goes) is that I’m good writer. I get the job done. I entertain, I make people think. Get them to see the other side to Life and the things people do or don’t do. That my readers get lost in the stories and forget they’re reading.

That they can see themselves or others they know in my work.

That is my endgame, that is whey I’m “going there” in my WIP, why I will (hopefully!) make readers cringe, be a little uncomfortable, get angry, cry, or whatever when they read this novel (I get all these ways writing this WIP, so if I do, surely others will, as well!)—which, again, I know I’ve repeated myself some in this post, this is the most mainstream effort of mine to date. I simply have to surrender to the role of this story—

There’s just no other way.

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Psychic Review—Black Sheep, Issue #121

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© Psychic (F. P. Dorchak and Duvall Design, coming mid-2014)
© Psychic (F. P. Dorchak and Duvall Design, coming mid-2014)

I just received my October-November issue of The Black Sheep in the mail yesterday, Number 121. In it, Madelon Rose Logue, aka “MRL,” included a review of Psychic:

“This gritty, new (Sethian) remote-viewer-spy thriller (the fourth novel by Frank Dorchak and his best to date) is set in a future probable reality in which both John F. Kennedy and his brother became Presidents of the USA and are not assassinated.

“It is packed full of unanswered questions (until later, that is) intrigue, and an assortment of dreams, OOBEs, fragment and whole personalities. There are giddy time and place shifts that sweep you hither and yon in most fiendish, devilish, Halloweenish ways that won’t let you stop to put it down for even a really good glass of iced tea.

“As I was caught up in this fantastic story I was surprised to find out what JFK had done that reminded me of a talk I went to hear that was sponsored by The Monroe Institute  back in 1977 (the “cold war” years). We were told how the American and Russian government-trained-remote-viewer spies would meet out-of-body and decide which ‘secrets’ to let their respective government have!

“Frank’s three other novels are” Sleepwalkers (2001), The Uninvited (2013), and ERO (2013).”

Here is a shot of the actual review. MRL’s fanzine is only hardcopy:

Psychic Review, The Black Sheep, #121, October-November, 2014.
Psychic Review, The Black Sheep, #121, October-November, 2014.

And you know the most interesting thing about the whole review? This line: “We were told how the American and Russian government-trained-remote-viewer spies would meet out-of-body and decide which ‘secrets’ to let their respective government have!”

Wow. The amazing world we live in!

Thank you, MRL! Madelon is quite the nice lady, we met years ago at a Seth Conference that had actually gone on in my town. I’ve never been able to attend one for scheduling reasons (you know, that “day job/shift work” thing), so jumped at the chance to meet her. Ever since, we’ve been corresponding and keeping in contact, and I occasionally submit to her fanzine.

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