Jeffrey Ricker is a writer and graphic designer living in St. Louis, Mo. with his partner, two dogs, and a neurotic cat. He works at the Missouri Botanical Garden and promises not to write about any of his co-workers. He dislikes referring to himself in the third person.
Back in 2002, I did the National Novel Writing Month contest, where you set a goal of writing a 50,000-word novel during the month of November. I succeeded, after trying it in 2001 and failing, and ended up with something around 50,002 words. (Seriously, as soon as I saw 50K in sight, I thought, "Let's just wrap up this sucker.") I operated on a principle shared by my friend DJ: ...
(It occurred to me as I was putting away groceries that my relationship with Chapter Nine of the book is somewhat adversarial, and it made me think of the relationship between Kirk and Khan....)ME: Nine, you bloodsucker! You're going to have to do your own dirty work now! Do you hear me? Do you?CHAPTER NINE: Jeffrey! You're still alive, old friend?ME: Still. Old. Friend. You've managed to kill ...
I've noticed a new recurring element that's been appearing in my writing lately. Before now, one of the things that came up a lot (“recurring theme” sounds pretentious, but I guess that’s what it is) was the notion of home and how to define it. Lately, though, I’ve been coming up with characters who’ve reached—not a crossroads; more like a mile marker, and they’ve turned around to ...
