Borderlands Boot Camp

From January 24-26, I was a grunt.

Let me elaborate. I attended the Borderlands Boot Camp in Baltimore, Maryland. I was selected. I’m not gonna lie, initially, I was the black dot in the snow. But, it didn’t bother me. I’m used to being an anomaly. I do need to put the brakes on though…or at least slow the speed limit.

After a particularly dismal day at work of checking me email 8000x in an hour, I got the email. Welcome to the Borderlands Boot Camp. In summation, we will book your room-you pay-and read a lot of stuff. Don’t come with your heart on your sleeve because that’s not what we are here to deal with, you sniveling grunt. Now, here’s the first packet of shit you need to read.

Okay, I got this.

This was supposed to be the first binder photo but it’s just me being dramatic.

My life decided it needed a full upheaval in 2020. I finally got the transfer I NEEDED, I joined a writing group I WANTED, two anthologies I was in were published and of course, my family went into semi turmoil (but that’s what families do-and my sneaky sister and brother in law hid a pie I made).

Everything felt like, “What next?”

Life said, “Okay, bitch.”

Sitter (aka my mom) for the conference couldn’t come, my sister (plan b) got SUPER DUPER SICK, I started to get sick, my book for class showed up a week late (FYI-I’m still behind) and pretty much anything else you can add.

But, Plan C came through, I got tickets and went to the conference.

Upon arrival-Frank Zappa winked at me in the lobby. I went to my room and realized I needed a full body mirror in my life. I also need to embrace all the tenements of minimalism. Oh, hey Frank was in my room and Adam Duritz was over my toilet. Not cool, yo.

Frank in the lobby…so far, so good.

Frank in the hotel room. I was watching The Simpson’s.
This is in the mirror. I could not steal it. Damn. #minimalism

First meeting was that night. I grabbed my bag and dragged my ass upstairs. Okay, I tried not to fan girl out but there sat F. Paul Wilson (author of “The Keep” and my intro to horror after Matheson and Beaumont). Holy shit! At the end of the table was “Prime Evil”-Douglas Winter-who I swear stared a hole through my shirt (you gotta look at this shirt. What the fuck is she wearing?)

We had a lecture, which was informing. We listened to why we should not take shit personal and then we listened as our work was eviscerated. I almost went into a fetal position but, I held strong.

We received our Sunday assignments-write a story based on a sentence. The sentence starts the story. My sentence was: So you think you know the truth.

I started to panic. How? Who? What? I can’t think in any language and I’ve got 8000 pages of reading to turn in. Okay, be cool. Paul grinned at me. I got a friend (new friend-Nicole) to take a picture. I felt all stalker like but Paul was mad cool. He was also like a grandpa that you want to hug…only he would crawl into your brain and snatch that horror out of it and use it against you. Anyway, I’m a dork. Here’s the pic:

I look like I farted or something. I may have been running my mouth. And yes, that’s the shirt that was stared at for most of the night. And he’s taller than me! Just so much awesome. I think his coolness is actually making me look sane.

And that was the first day. Also, there was drinking-but not by me-and let me say that the panel is all over 55 and we, the grunts, were falling out like little bitches at 11:00 pm. They (the panel) could have gone all night. I knew I was tired. I was running on adrenaline, Burger King and coffee. Bedtime: 12:46 am

….part 2…Saturday…

How I Learned to Write Great Dialogue

I get compliments on my writing-which is cool. One of the compliments I get is my dialogue. “How do you write such realistic dialogue?”

I’ll tell you my secret. I listen.

Friday, I was talking to a coworker, I’ll name “E”. E and I were talking about stuff and I told her about my dialogue compliment. She looks at me and says, “Well, you write well because you read books by men and women. Most men don’t venture out of their genre, so they don’t know how to really write woman speaking.”

Hmm…

Here’s the deal. I listen. I catch public transportation. I feel like we, as writers, have an obligation. If someone takes the time to pick up your work and read it, the least you can do is put something decent on the page. Like some halfway decent dialogue. Back to my truth…

I catch public transportation. I read a lot of graphic novels and books. I read YA, romance, horror, thriller…even nonfiction. The key is to listen to people talk. Because I live in a diverse city, I have the opportunity to hear people from everywhere talk. I listen. I listen to people on the bus and on the metro. I listen to people when they come into the library and have casual conversations. I listen to people sprinkle small Spanish words into their conversations. I listen to children talk to their nannies, nannies talk to other nannies.

I think, since I feel like I’ve been invisible most of my life, I have a skill at listening. I enjoy listening because this way, I can incorporate new slang or whatever into my work. I can make my work sound and feel real because this is how people really talk.

That’s my dirty little secret. Listening to people talk should help you write better dialogue. Don’t feel like you need to jump in and add something to the conversation. Sit back and smile, wave your hand to pass over. Anything, but the best thing you can do as a writer is listen.

Then go home and write your little hearts out.