K. Marvin Bruce

  When I bought a house (not on any royalties from my writing, mind!) I looked for a place with a writing nook.   In order to work remotely I had to prove that I had a dedicated office since, well, the man doesn’t like competition.   The writing nook was supposed to be separate. This requirement automatically ruled out modern houses.   New houses have no space for books—they’re designed around entertainment centers and home theaters.   We needed an older place.   We found something from the 1890s.   Perfect. I tried writing in our downstairs office.   It’s where my wife put the desktop computer—really, there was nowhere else for it—and it has no room for books.   It’s also very cold in winter. Then I tried the attic.   It’s sufficiently creepy and it’s full of books.   It’s even colder than the downstairs study in winter, however.   And, to get to the bathroom (I write very early in the morning), I have to creak down the stairs and through the bedroom to get there.   Between the cold a

  My current fiction project has me researching.   The best advice all writers give is that to be a writer you must read.   A lot.   I read on an average, more than a book a week.   Roughly half of them are fiction and the others non. I’ve had four nonfiction books published (with a fifth in the editor’s hands).   Writing nonfiction takes a lot of research.   So does good fiction.   Not that it’s ever helped me get my novels published, but should they ever see the light of day, they’re well researched. My novel on Medusa, for instance, was written after teaching introduction to classical mythology three times at a state university.   Indeed, it was that class that led to the novel.   I was only an adjunct, of course, and those with full-time affiliations have it much easier.   I know.   Believe me, I know. Now my research takes the form of books I buy myself, much to the protest of my study shelves and bank account.   All of my books contribute to my research and all of them are used t

   So, as I’m bound down by nonfiction—one down, two to go—I’m still working on fiction.   My current project, beyond about a dozen stories ready to submit, is converting one of my published stories into a novel. I’m a self-taught writer.   I’ve never taken a composition class.   I don’t know the conventions of plotting out a story other than by having read many, many books.   I also know that many classic writers of the western canon weren’t trained writers either.   Our society seems to think you have to have a degree to be able to do anything. While I don’t doubt that degrees help, what is missing is the awareness that sometimes writing skill is a gift. Gifts benefit from development, sure.   Today, however, if you majored in something else and you never prospered enough to afford to get that MFA, you’ll find the establishment a struggle.   All of which is to say, I hope I’m doing this right. I’ve written seven novels so far.   A famous writer I know never took a writing course and