Native American artists put less emphasis on originality than most Western ones. They prefer a pot or a rug that is well made and follows the traditions than one that breaks the mold in displeasing or incompetent ways. In contrast, many western artists prize innovation over all else. It’s this instinct that leads to the celebration of such abominations as Marcel Duchamp’s “Fountain” and Piero Monzoni’s “90 Cans of Excrement.”

Writers have been less prone to revere bad works, but still do insist on a spirit of creativity that breaks molds and forges new genres (many of which fail to satisfy the casual reader). Literary folks will say they’re unappreciated, but I wonder. Maybe works are unpopular because these new models don’t work. Old formulas are compelling because they work. Why else would people continue to enjoy police procedurals, surely one of the most over-used plot devices in art?

What got me thinking about this is the new Bond film “Skyfall,” which adheres to most of the conventions of the genre (M, Q, shaken not stirred, a bedded Bond girl), but which is satisfying nonetheless. Maybe a convention done well can be just as satisfying.

For its first two-thirds, Argo fulfilled the praise it received. It was both painful and funny, contrasting scenes of the Iranian Hostage crisis with parody of Hollywood’s shallowness. Then it went into suspense mode.

Director Ben Affleck used all the usual tricks of the trade (a ticking clock, cross cutting images of the pursuers and the pursed, and a silly chase sequence involving an airplane) to pump up the drama. Unfortunately, in doing so he missed the real drama. The climactic scene would have been far more tense if they’d stayed with the Americans as they’re making their way through the Tehran airport.

It’s a good lesson to writers: trust the characters and the situation to convey tension. Avoid cheap tricks.

In grad school, people always contrasted plot-driven books with character-driven ones (the latter being better). Throughout, I argued that the two aren’t mutually exclusive. To be satisfying, a book needs both strong plot and interesting characters. Most times no one listened, but if I could convince them to read Tana French, perhaps they’d understand.

Her book follows most conventions of a police procedural but with a compelling protagonist and surprising supporting characters. The depth of her insight into her protagonist (Cassie, a burned out cop in Dublin who’s forced into going undercover to help solve a murder) is remarkable. In scene after scene I was astonished at all the facets of her character.

It’s one of those books that makes me think I’m wasting my time in this trade. Could I ever write that well?

I’m done. Today, I finished the last book on my reading list for grad school (The Likeness by Tana French; more about that soon). Reading eighty books in two years proved to be the toughest part of the program. I’d estimate I read 24.000 pages during my tenure. Don’t get me wrong, I like reading and would have finished most of those books for entertainment. Just not at the same pace.

I heard Juno Diaz say that he reads a book a week and has storage lockers full of them. Don’t think I’ll be challenging that record any time soon.

Finally I get it: why everyone loves this book. It’s the punchy prose. Not a word wasted. On every page a surprising turn of phrase.

Maybe I was tone deaf. Maybe I’m slow. Either way, now I can hear.

When I heard that Pete Dexter’s novel The Paperboy was being made into a movie, I grabbed the novel for a preparatory rereading. It was as trashy and elegant as I recalled. Beautiful prose details murderous rednecks, crass southern belles, cowering schoolboys, and self-destructive journalists.

Then I saw the movie reviews: largely awful. WIth Nicole Kidman and Matt McConaughey, and with a story made for the big screen, it should have been an easy conversion. Most of the book could be taken word for word. How they screwed it up I can’t imagine, and I may never know. I missed the film during the week and a half it lasted in theaters, and I may never convince myself to watch it on video. I’m afraid it might ruin my memory of the book.

It reminds me of The Bonfire of the Vanities, another great book that should have made a great movie, but apparently didn’t. Once I heard Tom Hanks had been miscast in the lead, I refused to see it.

Why can’t Hollywood figure out how to translate great books onto celluloid?

Why do some ideas come like a wave and others trickle in like a stream?

Some of my best story ideas came to me like Venus on a half clam shell emerging from the ocean, that is, fully formed. Within half an hour I had the plot, characters, setting, even sometimes the ending.

Others trickle in bit by bit, or never fully emerge. I’ve had one story plot trick for 20 years and have never figured out what to do with it. (I’m not sharing in case some day I do!)

Meanwhile, my hard drive fills with fragments. Lucky for me it’s just electrons and not pages, or I’d be out buying a bigger filing cabinet.

I believe one of the best opening lines in all literature comes from Franz Kafka’s The Trial “Someone must have been telling lies about Joseph K., for without having done anything wrong he was arrested one fine morning.” It conveys situation, character, theme, and action, all in a single line.

When were rainbow Slinkies first put on the market? What did the different colors mean on a mood ring? Who had the top album in 1978? When did Farrah Fawcett’s famous red bathing suit poster come out? And most importantly, how do you spell her name?

These and many other bits of historical trivia can all be answering in a few easy minutes online. It’s no news that the internet is a fabulous source of all knowledge, but what I’m discovering is how much easier it make writing historical fiction. Any time I want some random factoid, I don’t have to run down to the library or skim old newspapers, I just google it, and within half a dozen clicks I know.

Many authors shudder at the thought of using the internet to do research, but for some information it’s far and away the easiest.

In fact, I’ve found that there’s an inverse relationship of triviality to accessibility. The more insignificant a fact/question, the more likely I am to find the answer online.

Another story, another acceptance. This week, I got an email from Front & Centre saying they liked my story “Waiting on the Stress Boxes” and will publish it in Spring 2013. The story is a modified chapter from my first novel about ex-convicts trying to stay clean. It was one of the strongest scenes: set in jail, and drawing on my experience working in one. After so many years hiding on my hard drive, it’s great to know this one will finally get some air.

(For those of you who don’t know, stress boxes is another word for telephones.)