Today I will be featuring a guest post about the writing process by Steven Manchester, author of
Twelve Months and
Goodnight, Brian along with an excerpt of
Goodnight, Brian.
My Writing Process
by Steven Manchester
I suppose I discovered the writing
world by accident – or perhaps it discovered me.
I’d just returned home from Operation
Desert Storm, and was working as a prison investigator in
Massachusetts. Needless to say, there was great negativity in my life
at that time. I decided to return to college to finish my degree in
Criminal Justice. During one of the classes, the professor talked
about police work but nothing else. I finally raised my hand and
asked, “The criminal justice system is vast. What about the courts,
probation, parole – corrections?” He smiled and told me to see
him after class. I thought I’d finally done it! In his office, he
explained, “There’s no written material out there on corrections
or prisons, except from the slanted perspective of inmates.” He
smiled again and dropped the bomb. “If you’re so smart,” he
said, “why don’t you write it?”
Nine months later, I dropped the first
draft of 6-5; A Different Shade of Blue on his desk. From then
on, I was hooked. I was a writer.
I’d written a lot at my job (report
writing), but it all started with my college professor’s challenge.
Perhaps because of my age and experience, I understood right away
that writing is a craft that takes time to evolve; to mature, so I
spent the next several years PRACTICING my chosen craft. Under the
pen name, Steven Herberts, I wrote in every venue of print I could
get my name in: newspaper, magazine, etc. I also penned two
collections of poetry, and wrote drafts for two more books. After
five solid years of writing, I finally believed that I’d found my
voice; MY STYLE – and was ready to contact an agent.
The greatest challenge for me has been
time. First and foremost, I am a dad and my children come first.
After that, there are other responsibilities that need my attention.
Yet, my passion to write has constantly gnawed at my soul. To
overcome the obstacle of time, I made writing a priority over
watching TV and sometimes even sleeping. Once my family is taken care
of and the world closes its eyes, I’m up for a few more hours each
day – chasing my dreams on paper.
It has taken thousands of words,
hundreds of pages, before I finally identified with a particular
genre. I decided that my voice was a more sensitive one: a male
perspective to a female audience. My novels, Twelve Months and
Goodnight, Brian are evidence of that.
Goodnight, Brian synopsis:
Fate was working against little Brian
Mauretti. The food that was meant to nourish him was poisoning him
instead, and the doctors said the damage was devastating and
absolute. Fate had written off Brian. But fate didn’t count on a
woman as determined as Brian’s grandmother, Angela DiMartino –
who everyone knew as Mama. Loving her grandson with everything she
had, Mama endeavored to battle fate. Fate had no idea what it was in
for.
An emotional tale about the strength of family bonds,
unconditional love, and the perseverance to do our best with the
challenging gifts we receive, Goodnight, Brian is an uplifting
tribute to what happens when giving up is not an option.
Early Reviews
include:
“Steven Manchester has a gift for
expressing through his writing the complicated and transcendent
beauty of the human experience with poignant clarity.” – Yolanda
King, eldest daughter of Dr. Martin Luther King
“Steven
Manchester’s Goodnight, Brian is a poignant, inspiring story
about resilience and faith and one family’s enduring love that
should be a model for us all.” – James S. Hirsch, bestselling
author, Willie Mays: The Life, The Legend
“Steven has
once again proven his deep insight into human emotions and relations
and his ability to craft a well written and entertaining story that
also has the power to inspire courage and hope. Goodnight, Brian
is a fine read.” – Bob Price, WPZZ Radio Personality
Now that I have nearly two decades of
writing and getting published under my belt, I enjoy trying to help
new writers break in. My advice is always the same:
Be true to yourself, always.
Write constantly.
Keep the faith!!!
And NEVER, EVER, EVER quit. Most
people in this industry would agree that more than talent or skill
or even luck, perseverance is the one trait that will always get the
job done.
- Knock on every door you can, and
keep knocking. I promise that eventually someone will open and the
warmth you feel on your face will more than validate every hour
spent alone in the darkness.
Goodnight, Brian
(brief excerpt)
Enough time had
passed for the shock of Brian’s condition to wear off. Joan had
stumbled beyond the grieving process and had given up negotiating
with God. She was now at a place called rage. Mama sat with her
daughter at the kitchen table, trying to help her make sense of it
all. “Maybe Brian’s a test from God?” Mama suggested.
“Why
would God test a little baby who’s never done a thing wrong? Why
would He test an innocent child?” Joan snapped back.
Mama
shook her head. “I didn’t say God was testing Brian,” she said
evenly. There was a thoughtful pause. “Maybe He’s testing
everyone around Brian?”
“I
don’t want to hear that!” Joan roared. “My son will never be
able to enjoy the life of other people who don’t…”
Mama
slapped her hand on the Formica table, stopping Joan in mid-sentence
and turning her face into that of a seven-year-old girl’s. “Not
another negative word, do you hear me?” she yelled back, quickly
grabbing her daughter’s hands and holding them tightly. “Positive,
Joan—everything must be positive! Negative calls for negative and
positive brings forth positive. Brian’s already facing some unfair
challenges. We have to be positive, Joan. We just have to be!”
Joan
wiped her eyes. “But what if the doctor’s right, Ma?” she
muttered in a tortured voice. “What if…”
Without
letting Joan’s hands go, Mama took a deep breath and started in on
her own tirade. “The doctors don’t know what the hell they’re
talking about! I had a grandmother who lived her whole life as a
brittle diabetic, but she ate anything she wanted. She died three
days before her eighty-fifth birthday. Your grandfather supposedly
had cirrhosis of the liver, but lived with his bottle for forty more
years until old age took him. They don’t know beans! Besides, we
need to have faith in a higher source.” She pulled her crucifix
away from her neck and kissed it. “You have to believe, Joan.
Before any of the healing can take place, you have to believe that it
will.” She nodded and lowered her tone. “Only God knows how…and
that’s enough.”
Joan
placed her face in her hands and began to cry. She was now completely
removed from her rage and safely returned to the stage of grief.
“I’m…just…so… scared,” she stuttered, sobbing.
Mama
stroked her hair. “Don’t you worry, love. They say that children
are raised by a village.” She nodded her gray, curly head. “I
think it’s about time we had a village meeting.”
Summary: Azalea is trapped. Just when she should feel that everything is before her . . . beautiful gowns, dashing suitors, balls filled with dancing . . . it's taken away. All of it.
