Yes, it’s time to play the Desert Island game! Here are seven books of fiction I would have to pack (along with a change of underwear and socks, plus a portable ham radio rig) before setting out on my course for adventure/disaster. Agree? Disagree? What am I missing? What would you pack?

1) The Brothers K – David Duncan
2) The Unbearable Lightness of Being – Milan Kundera
3) Light in August – William Faulkner
4) Evolution – Stephen Baxter
5) Watership Down – Richard Adams
6) The Complete Works of William Shakespeare
7) The Norton Anthology of Modern Poetry

OK, the last two might seem like a cop out, but it’s my luggage and my island — I need my poetry and drama. Also, it seems I’ve packed some sad novels. Oh well, that’s me.

At work, at home, on the bus, in the grocery store — folks are just being their authentic, unselfconscious selves. What a treasure-trove to mine for your characters and their dialog!

As writers, the best training you can get is to actively observe everything around you. While I’m not advocating eavesdropping, being aware of what people are saying, how they say it, and their body language will bring a ring of authenticity to your characters when you transfer the patterns of daily life to what they say and how they say it. Twenty or 30 minutes spent people watching at the mall, a sports event, church or just hanging out anywhere is valuable time that will allow you to enrich your characters and how they interact with each other.

To me, this makes sense for all genres of fiction, not just present-day-setting, literary fiction. Nobody wants to read stiff, wooden speech, or dialog that’s so clichéd the book should have come with an onion. Readers are smart, and they’ll know if a character doesn’t ring true.

People are people, as the old Depeche Mode song reminds us. They’re people whether they’re corporeal or fictional. While I don’t think we have to be psychology majors, it’s a great help to be an active student of human behavior and speech, filing away patterns and attitudes for use in our characters.

There are a couple of reasons why I’m here, why I recently reopened Vanport Media. The main reason is that I needed to get back to directly helping people, using the skills I’ve accumulated over most of my working life. Another reason is that I’d much rather work with a stylebook than an actuarial table. Let me explain:

I first opened the virtual doors here in early 2010, but I struggled getting going, so I took on a series of part-time jobs to eek by while I built the business. Or, that was the plan. What happened was I got a temp gig at an insurance company, first doing mindless clerical crap, but then I was offered an actual, regular job in document acquisition and customer service. In other words, I helped people get their stuff together when filing a claim.

And they paid well, so I got sidetracked. Right off the bat, I was making twice what my business plan called for me to make in the third year. Money money money. Cool. I spent a full year enjoying that money, but also “enjoying” quite a bit of stress, higher blood pressure and other delights of corporate life. From there, things went downhill. After years of being a journalist and pretty much setting a flexible schedule, I felt more and more hemmed in by the giant concrete coffin in which I worked in downtown Portland. I needed an escape plan.

I knew editing, layout and writing were what I did best, and Vanport Media had just been sitting in mothballs for over two years. It was there, waiting for me to breathe some life back into it. I hatched a plan that allowed myself a little bit of a monetary cushion. Once I hit that predefined mark, I bailed out of the coffin and breathed free for the first time in almost three years. Just a week away from the old grind, I knew I’d made the right decision — for my health, career, life.

What does it all mean? Beats me. At least, in a larger sense. But what I do know is that, for me, I feel so much better doing what I know I’m supposed to be doing. Lots of “know” and “do” in that last sentence. Roger that.