WRITING AFTER SUNSETS

 
 
 

For years, I maintained a separate blog called writing after sunsets as a place for my thoughts on writing, reflections on teaching, and an outlet for writing that matters to me in ways that make me want to control how it is published. It has also been, from time to time, a platform for the work of others I know who have something to say.


Now, with this site as my central base of online operations, I’m folding that blog into the rest of my efforts. All previous content is here for easier access, but the heart of writing after sunsets remains in both my earlier posts and those to come.  

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Michael Clark Michael Clark

“I’d say just…write the damn story.”

It was more than vaguely comforting to see what’s possible, even if it’s not a probable outcome for me. In an odd way, his having numerous projects in the works made me feel like I might—someday—get one of mine out the door.

Author Ryan Gattis and I, back a few years, talking about his book All Involved. We don’t generally use microphones to talk to each other when we get together these days.

Author Ryan Gattis and I, back a few years, talking about his book All Involved. We don’t generally use microphones to talk to each other when we get together these days.

This the thirteenth installment of a series reflecting on a sabbatical that ended one year ago. It will run each Wednesday through the summer.

One of the first things I did on sabbatical was hit up my friend Ryan for some advice on the novel I’m trying to write. Well, that and to get some chorizo he’d been raving about. More on that later.

Early one morning in January, I drove the hour southwest from where I live, hit the 710, and shot across the bridge to San Pedro, a small part of me disappointed that I didn’t get the chance to reproduce the scene in Gone in 60 Seconds when Nic Cage—excuse me, Memphis Raines—jumps a line of cars in unbelievable fashion to take the last stolen car on his list to a guy who’d go on to play Destro in the G.I. Joe movie.  

My mild annoyance was put to rest, however, with the breakfast we got at a diner called Rex’s Café. The food was great, the conversation better.

One of the reasons I wanted to talk to Ryan is he wrote one of my favorite multi-voiced novels, All Involved. It is the fictional treatment of the King Riots in LA and a masterclass on carving one story from numerous perspectives.

That’s what I asked first: how did he navigate all those voices without them bleeding into and overwhelming each individual story? He paused, moved his napkin a couple inches on the table, and then looked at me. 

“I’d say just…write the damn story. I didn’t plan mine beyond knowing who my characters were. Felt like trying to know more would make the stories harder to get to.”

Ok, so maybe I was projecting my issues onto his process. I’ve been working on this thing going on eight years, so sometimes I feel a little like this:

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We talked a little more about the craft of multiple voices, but more helpful was my living a little vicariously through where Ryan was at in his work at the time. One book in the pipeline, and idea for another brewing, some screenplays to write. A soccer match to watch when we got done that morning. Speaking of that coming book, it’s called The System and you should check it out.

It was more than vaguely comforting to see what’s possible, even if it’s not a probable outcome for me. In an odd way, his having numerous projects in the works made me feel like I might—someday—get one of mine out the door.

Oh, and about that chorizo. Yeah, you should make the trip to the ChoriMan’s laboratory kitchen tucked in a residential San Pedro neighborhood. Go buy a pound of the traditional red or the maple habanero or grab one of the burritos they’re selling that day. It is all phenomenal.

When it comes to food, Ryan has yet to steer me wrong. Pretty solid with the writing advice too.

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