Ever wonder how long it takes to write a 72-hour novel? Longer than you think.
1991 - first time listening to a radio play: The Shadow - two episodes on an LP. Love at first sound! The back of the album cover tells a brief story of how the audience truly believed the Shadow was real. Gets me thinking: if you were famous enough, if people really believed in you as a crime fighter, could you fight crime with nothing but the sound of your own voice?
1993 - Grade Eleven Creative Writing class: first appearance of Ruby Hawkeshaw, hypnotist, in eponymous one-act radio play. First dramatic reading of the story in class spawns gales of laughter. Not what was I aiming for.
1996 - Final year of high school. First attempt at writing Hawkeshaw as a novel, set in modern times. Several weak attempts at revision ensue. First appearance of a cop as a sidekick. No idea what was in the plot.
1998 - Second attempt at novelization, set in modern times. First appearance of Tom Tooler, and of "Silas" - the bad guy. Many attempts at revision ensue.
1998-2001 - Re-appearance of Hawkeshaw in radio plays. Revisions? What revisions?
2003? - Interview with Richard Cole, hypnotist, for research. Great guy - real hoot - very clean act! Great inspiration for Ruby as stage performer. First time I ever watched a hypnosis act. (And I can still recall every details! I still giggle at the word "Arugula".) I was in the back, taking notes, when Richard hypnotized his subjects into believing they were famous people. He set his subjects loose on the audience to mingle; one girl came over to me, and seeing me with pen and paper, her eyes lit up. "Do you want my autograph?" she asked. I said sure! She signed it Alicia Silverstone. I still have that notebook.
2003-2004 - Third attempt at a full length novel. First appearance of an actual plot. Silas as bad guy, Ruby as actual stage performer, Tom as a sound tech. First attempt at threading actual science, technology and actual hypnosis techniques into the story. First appearance of miniaturized subliminal post-hypnotic suggestion broadcast technology. Revisions ensue. Revisions fizzle and stop.
2007 - Fourth attempt at a full length novel. First appearance of the real "twist" in the plot, which makes the story viable. Still not working for me, though - too contrived, maybe. More research, more disappointment. (Word to the wise: an EMP generator doesn't do what you think it does, despite what The Matrix may have led you to believe.) First appearance of the post-hypnotic suggestion "Negate." Feeble attempts at revision.
2010 - Fifth attempt at a full length novel, this time at the Muskoka Novel Marathon. 72-hours to write the first 2/3rds of the book's word count; three months to finish it. First time all the key elements from previous versions merge together, and first time it's set in 1930s. Ironically, it's also the first time she's not actively fighting crime - though she is mighty involved in it. Retitled: Her Poison Voice. Oh - and special thanks to Christoph Fornwalt, one of my Facebook friends, who "won" an impromptu "Name the Bad Guy" contest on my profile! Out of the 20-some suggestions, his was the best, and will now go down in infamy. Thanks, Christoph!
And that's how it takes 72-hours, 3 months and 19 years to write a book. And yes...revisions have ensued.
Ever wonder where the name "Hawkeshaw" came from? For me, it came from a snippet of conversation between Margo Lane and Lamont Cranston in an episode of the Shadow; Margo used it as a sarcastic synonym for "gumshoe" or "private eye."
The term was probably derived from a character created by Gus Mager: Hawkshaw the Detective, a comic strip character first seen in 1913. The first appearance of the character was in 1910, going by the name of Sherlocko. Apparently some guy named Sir Arthur Conan Doyle took exception to the reference, and Sherlocko was renamed Hawkshaw (but he kept the deer stalker cap and the sidekick Watso, thank you very much).
And Mager himself actually borrowed the name from playwright Tom Taylor; in his 1866 stage production Ticket-of-Leave Man, Taylor featured a detective named Hawkshaw. What a great pedigree!
In a final tidbit of trivia: the Hawkshaw family motto is "My lure is true".
Showing posts with label the Shadow. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the Shadow. Show all posts
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Dear Walter B. Gibson, Hypergraphic Icon...
Dear Mr. Walter B. Gibson (aka Maxwell Grant, esq.);
I understand you were, like, the most prolific guy on the planet, in your day.
On top of that, you were a reporter and magician and you hung out with some awesome people: y'know, like Blackstone, Dunninger, Kreskin, and Houdini, all of whom were the inspiration behind The Shadow.
You, Mr. Gibson, were the principal pulp inkmonger behind that dark and snarky figure who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men, that denizen of pulp fiction, radio plays, movies old and new, that icon of comic books, comic strips and graphic novels, and inspiration of umpteen gazillion toys, trinkets and doodads.
Heck, the Shadow even inspired other huge blockbusters, not the least of which are the Green Hornet and Batman.
Okay, so granted, the Shadow wasn't your original idea, but you sure ran far with it. And I've got a strong suspicion you didn't get to see a lot of cash from merchandising or the film rights, and maybe most people have all but forgotten your name...
But dang it, you're the only person I know of who wrote more than 300 novels in his lifetime. A sustained cruising speed of 10,000 words a day! Almost 1,700,000 words in a single year! That's a rate that would break the average human being! Look up "hypergraphia" in the dictionary, and there's a picture of Walter B. Gibson.
I've got a couple of posthumous questions for you. The first one that jumps to mind is "were you insane", but there's no point asking that, because the answer is self-evident.
But there are a whole bunch of other questions that have been plaguing me since the Muskoka Novel Marathon. I was thinking of you the whole time (when I probably should have been plotting and writing, instead...). After all, I managed to write 56,000 words in 72-hours (and then my eyes fell out), so to me, 10,000 words a day suddenly doesn't seem so unattainable.
But...
Were you an
y good? I mean come on - 10,000 words a day? On a typewriter? Did you even have time to edit? Did you actually check your spelling, or did you drive your copy editors to drinking?
Did you have a life? A day job? Wikipedia tells me you had been married. So did you ever have to do bachelor-y things, like, your laundry? Wash the dishes? Fix the car? And did your wife ever get tired of your constant clackety-clack on the old Corona?
And did you ever get sick of it? All the writing, the deadlines, the pressures, the constant need to come up with a distinct plot and unique characters...?
As for me, this is the first creative thing I've written since the marathon two weeks ago, so how you could keep coming up with new stories every two weeks...! You once said in an interview that before you were finished one project, you had ideas for the next - but didn't you ever wonder if some day the well would run dry?
Did you ever wish you could throw off the shackles and actually write something of critical acclaim? Have your work recognized for its merit, and less so for its accumulation?
But the question that's been plaguing me all this time: how the heck is a hack like me supposed to compete against a legacy like yours, Mr. Gibson? In this age of Facebook games and blogging and addictive podcasts, can anyone ever leave as lasting and as robust an impact on pop lit as you?
Is it even remotely possible that someone like me could follow in your footsteps? Someone who gets giddy designing databases? Someone who's taken up drumming, dancing and winter camping for "research"? Someone who stands in front of the washing machine scratching her head and wondering why she came into the laundry room in the first place?
Someone who can write 56,000 words in 72 hours...?
Who knows? But it'll sure be fun to try.
Mwaa ha ha ha!
For more information about Walter B. Gibson (aka Maxwell Grant) and about the origins of the Shadow - here's a great story by Robby Reed, and an article by William V. Rauscher.
I understand you were, like, the most prolific guy on the planet, in your day.
On top of that, you were a reporter and magician and you hung out with some awesome people: y'know, like Blackstone, Dunninger, Kreskin, and Houdini, all of whom were the inspiration behind The Shadow.You, Mr. Gibson, were the principal pulp inkmonger behind that dark and snarky figure who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men, that denizen of pulp fiction, radio plays, movies old and new, that icon of comic books, comic strips and graphic novels, and inspiration of umpteen gazillion toys, trinkets and doodads.
Heck, the Shadow even inspired other huge blockbusters, not the least of which are the Green Hornet and Batman.
Okay, so granted, the Shadow wasn't your original idea, but you sure ran far with it. And I've got a strong suspicion you didn't get to see a lot of cash from merchandising or the film rights, and maybe most people have all but forgotten your name...
But dang it, you're the only person I know of who wrote more than 300 novels in his lifetime. A sustained cruising speed of 10,000 words a day! Almost 1,700,000 words in a single year! That's a rate that would break the average human being! Look up "hypergraphia" in the dictionary, and there's a picture of Walter B. Gibson.
I've got a couple of posthumous questions for you. The first one that jumps to mind is "were you insane", but there's no point asking that, because the answer is self-evident.
But there are a whole bunch of other questions that have been plaguing me since the Muskoka Novel Marathon. I was thinking of you the whole time (when I probably should have been plotting and writing, instead...). After all, I managed to write 56,000 words in 72-hours (and then my eyes fell out), so to me, 10,000 words a day suddenly doesn't seem so unattainable.
But...
Were you an
y good? I mean come on - 10,000 words a day? On a typewriter? Did you even have time to edit? Did you actually check your spelling, or did you drive your copy editors to drinking?Did you have a life? A day job? Wikipedia tells me you had been married. So did you ever have to do bachelor-y things, like, your laundry? Wash the dishes? Fix the car? And did your wife ever get tired of your constant clackety-clack on the old Corona?
And did you ever get sick of it? All the writing, the deadlines, the pressures, the constant need to come up with a distinct plot and unique characters...?
As for me, this is the first creative thing I've written since the marathon two weeks ago, so how you could keep coming up with new stories every two weeks...! You once said in an interview that before you were finished one project, you had ideas for the next - but didn't you ever wonder if some day the well would run dry?
Did you ever wish you could throw off the shackles and actually write something of critical acclaim? Have your work recognized for its merit, and less so for its accumulation?
But the question that's been plaguing me all this time: how the heck is a hack like me supposed to compete against a legacy like yours, Mr. Gibson? In this age of Facebook games and blogging and addictive podcasts, can anyone ever leave as lasting and as robust an impact on pop lit as you?
Is it even remotely possible that someone like me could follow in your footsteps? Someone who gets giddy designing databases? Someone who's taken up drumming, dancing and winter camping for "research"? Someone who stands in front of the washing machine scratching her head and wondering why she came into the laundry room in the first place?
 |
| Walter B. Gibson, September 12, 1897 – December 6, 1985, Inkmonger and Ideasmith |
Someone who can write 56,000 words in 72 hours...?
Who knows? But it'll sure be fun to try.
Mwaa ha ha ha!
For more information about Walter B. Gibson (aka Maxwell Grant) and about the origins of the Shadow - here's a great story by Robby Reed, and an article by William V. Rauscher.
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