Write like Steinbeck

I've mentioned before that I didn't really like my high school English teacher Mr. Hobkirk. In fact, I used to rant about the man, loathing him with all my heart and I cried when I found out in grade 12 that I would again be in his class. However, the truth is that I didn't really hate the man, I just lacked all respect for him and while that might seem the same, it's not. I eventually did this, even illustrating it as a silent, mute way of saying sorry, though from all my observations the man was quite oblivious to my loathing, my silent mental grrrrrrrrr whenever he spoke. Hobkirk loved the American author John Steinbeck and spent a great deal of time forcing us to read the man's work, which I hated. Under Hobkirk I was forced to read 'Of Mice and Men' and 'East of Eden' both of which were horrifically bad. I finished neither of them, which in those days was something I considered a real sign of bad writing in a book, priding myself in my ability to read just about anything. In fact, the file name for the following written piece was originally titled 'Write like Stein-poop' because I was so mad at the author. Actually, Steinbeck's pretty good at description - he just fails at writing interesting stories where I can actually care about what's going on.

These days, I have trouble reading even the best of written works, because I am fully married to my own written pieces and am obsessed with working on them. If offered a choice between reading my own work and reading somebody else's, I will typically pick my own. This is rather in the same style as author Brian Jacques, who reputably does not read other people's work. I'm frankly just not interested in other people's stuff most of the time. It's not a slight against them. It's just my self obsessed personality showing out. (And please, don't misunderstand that to mean that I am vain for I am not and in fact possess a very poor sense of self, but that I am solely interested in my interests.) In any case, the following piece was written in the style of a Steinbeck piece for an assignment, but to describe a concept for my manuscript SKY WOLF. Please enjoy it as well as the accompanying illustration! This is the first time a conceptual piece for my Copperbane Series (more commonly referred to as Rimer) will be posted on this blog!

The lush forest brook was broad, shallow and bottomed with soft, oozing muck. The water had a blackish-green, wine bottle quality to it and the sky, as well as the flora of the deep green glade were reflected in rippled slivers on its surface. Along the brown floor of the slow, gentle stream small insects, plants and fish thrived, darting about the thick reeds that lined it. A thin shadow fell upon them and all scattered at the presence of the small fallan predator. She was a lean creature, long legged and foxy, with luscious, light tan fur. Greyish blue eyes surveyed the stream sharply, white markings that ran along her muzzle, throat and belly twitching with her almost motionless actions. White socked paws were lifted cautiously from the water, in much the same motion as a heron. A dark tipped tail twitched, then the fisher struck, leaping high into the air and pouncing head first into the cool water, as gracefully as a diving bird. Then she lifted her head, rivets of silver liquid springing off of her, a writhing black thing disappearing into her powerful jaws with two jerking crunches. Then the fisher tensed, looking back over her shoulder, the mud welling up between her toes as she carelessly shifted her weight, staring back at the sky. A small dribble of blood escaped her mouth from the poor luckless thing she’d eaten. Then, as if to avoid being eaten herself, the fisher sprang from the water, landing in the reeds. In a flick of her tail she had vanished into the depths of the forest, a pale nightmare of fish. In the brook, the creatures once again cautiously swam out into the world, glad for now that the fisher was gone.