words

Page Proofs

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The page proofs for Child of Fire arrived last night, and I was (quite stupidly) surprised by how much they looked like little book pages. I mean, duh. Also: Yay!

I asked permission to post scans of a couple pages, in case anyone is curious what page proofs look like.

I also finished reading Those Who Went Remain There Still this morning. it’s a terrific book and practically a clinic on voice. Very nicely done. It’s a short novel, and I can’t say I cared much for the interior illustrations. While Ms. Priest was still describing the creature in the book in vague, mysterious ways, I turned the page and saw a full-page drawing of it. And it was less than impressive. (Discussing it with a woman at the blood donation center, she said “I like it! It’s like a Nancy Drew book!” which… yeah.)

Still, it’s a good book. Check it out.

Genre/Not-Genre

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Would you consider “road movies” a genre? I find it hard to reconcile movies as disparate as FANDANGO, WIZARD OF OZ, and THE SURE THING as a single genre.

I’m thinking it should be considered a setting, but Westerns are a genre that are defined by its setting.

What about movies set in a courtroom?

I’m curious to hear what people think about this.

A book and a show

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First the book: The Bone Garden by Tess Gerritsen.

For the first time ever, I was sitting on a bus reading this book, I looked over at the reader next to me (I’m an incorrigible book snoop) and she was reading the exact same book. I consider this scientific proof that the book is a bestseller.

And it deserves to be. It’s a historical thriller, and like a lot of genre books with a historical setting, it spends a lot of time establishing the time period before the story kicks in. But kick in it does. The two lead characters are more admirable than interesting, but some of the supporting cast get POV chapters.

The most interesting character here is the setting, ‘natch. The rough conditions in the maternity ward, the medical school classes, the filthy rooms where the poor had to live–yeah, it’s gross. But it was fascinating, too. And once the plot picked up speed, I couldn’t put it down.

And I hereby declare my book grouch period to be over.

Next is the show. Here is the trailer to the CGI anime series CatShitOne

and OMG, do not let your kids see that.

I know a book worth two of that

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Right now, it’s snowing here. I’m looking at the biggest flakes I’ve ever seen in my life. Bigger than Ritz crackers, I swear. None of it is sticking, though. The boy, he is disappointed.

It’s been a while since I wrote about the books I’ve been reading, mainly because even the meager writeups I do take a lot of brain space.

Last week I finished I Know a Trick Worth Two of That by Samuel Holt (Amazon.com). It was a light read (every book I pick up is a light read any more) but very satisfying. Sam Holt is the name on the cover, and it’s also the name of the protagonist in this first person mystery. In reality, it’s one of Donald E. Westlake’s pen names, but the conceit is a clever one. Holt is a former cop who fell into acting and played a detective on a TV show for several years. Now the show has ended and he’s rich, but can’t get another acting job because everyone associates him with Packard.

And when murders occur, folks turn to him to solve it, because hey, he’s Packard!

In this one, Holt’s old partner comes to him for help–folks are out to kill him, and Holt agrees to hide him in his house. Unfortunately, during a dinner party, his houseguest is killed. Holt knows that the murderer is one of his guests–one of his closest friends–but who? Can he find the killer without driving away everyone he cares about?

And you know what? It works. You get a convincing look into the life of a formerly successful actor, lots of great characters, an honest-to-Pikachu whodunit with clues and everything (I ignore clues–I’m terrible with them) and a denouement in which the protagonist calls all the suspects together to name the killer.

Fun! I’ve been such a book grouch, that I’m pleased to have found this one.

Then, there’s The Boys by Garth Ennis, (Amazon.com, Indiebound.org) a superhero graphic novel set in a world where costumed superheros are self-indulgent, self-aggrandizing assholes, and the characters of the title are a team of freelance government operatives who spy on them, collect blackmail material and generally show their hate.

The main baddies are a twisted version of the Justice League–reckless, violent jerks more concerned with their licensing rights than doing good. And the protagonists are the kind of depraved, cynical anti-heroes that so many comics creators seem to love.

There’s a lot that’s wrong here. It’s full of casual racism and sexism (want to know what the only female member of “the boys” is called? “The Woman. Nope, not kidding). It’s rife with the immature nihilism that defines so many “adult” comics. It’s got hate-fucking, prostitutes, drug use, boozing, and… um… doggie rape. All things I would hate in fiction.

And yet, it has an undeniable power, too. Not just in an “Oh John Ringo No” sort of way, but in the reader’s secret suspicion that, if we really did have people with superpowers, this is how they’d behave. And the story has a driving force to it that pulls me through all the annoying parts. Also, the audience stand-in character who gets everything explained to him? Modeled on Simon Pegg. I have no idea why that makes me happy, but it does.

Anyway, after I finished Volume 1, I added Volume 2 to my to read pile.

The snow has turned to rain. Too bad.

Currently, I’m reading The Bone Gardenby Tess Gerritson, which has so far not engaged me with all the misery and pus. On the graphic novel end, I’m reading the trade for The Middleman.

Having finished the online panel

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I’m left with an introductory essay I wrote to lead off the conversation. The essay was all wrong for the forum and the format, but what did I know? So, I’m going to inflict it on you.

Snark

I’m not going to talk too much about who does snark well and who doesn’t–I don’t feel confident in the depth of my knowledge of the genre, and I’m imagine that, no matter what I say, someone out there would respond: “What about Sofalina Kricklistik and her Butt-Kicker Chronicles? Those books are snark hilarity! Where have you been?” And then I’ll be too embarrassed to continue.

But I do want to talk about Snark Gone Wrong, because I have seen it. Boy have I ever.

Two things I keep in mind when I read/write snark: First, snark (sarcasm, whatever you want to call it) is an attack. Not a knife-to-the-belly attack. Not a burn-down-your-house attack. But it is an attack, with all the rules of attacks and a couple of special rules.

The second is what Keith Olbermann has said in interviews about his feud with another cable news personality: Always punch up.

Remember Kolchak, the Night Stalker (the older, good one, not the new, lifeless one)? Darren McGavin was abrasive and sarcastic and comtemptuous of the people he braced, but those people were always big shots. They were politicians, police chiefs, gallery owners, whatever. The powerful and the snobbish. When he dealt with working joes, he was still himself but he was more respectful.

Here’s a quote from a column by Terry Rossio, on his excellent writing site Wordplay, discussing (among other things) the story changes that ruined the animated Sinbad movie of a couple years ago:

(General Rule: Your lead character can be introduced as a smart ass, but not a successful smart ass, if you want the audience to care about him.)

Quick aside: Wordplay is screenwriting-specific, but it’s a great place to learn about story. Check out the columns.

Back to the point I’m allegedly making: Anyone who’s seen Sinbad (and I count myself among the unlucky few) knows exactly what he means–Sinbad opens the movie with a big fight, where he handles all his enemies very easily. And through the whole thing, he mocks and humiliates them.

And he comes off as a jerk.

Some months ago, I followed a link to a snarky retelling of an incident in a Wal-Mart. The writer had noticed a fishbowl that said “Free Candy” on the side, but instead of taking one, she took them all.

When the manager and clerk tried to get her to return it, she raised a fuss. When she wrote about it on her blog, she made a bunch of comments about the employees’s weight and unfashionable clothes. I had to stop reading, because I kept thinking “What an asshole.”

When a character snarks, they should snark at the powerful, the careless, the cruel. (Remember when I mentioned “special rules”? You can snark against an awful situation, too. But it should be genuinely awful. ZOMG, my valet laid out the wrong waistcoat! won’t cut it. And yeah, that’s only one rule, but I put the plural in there in case I think of something else later.) They shouldn’t punch down.

One last bit: Years and years ago there was a TV show called STINGRAY (Nick Mancuso turned down the Bruce Willis role in MOONLIGHTING to play Stingray, and boy, there’s no booze in the world that can dull the pain of that.) The villain in the pilot was one of those boob tube drug lords we used to see so often, and the bad guy would say “Can you see me?” right before he shot them.

At the very end of the pilot episode, the villain is lying on the deck of his Miami Vice smuggler boat with a bullet hole in him, and Our Hero is crouching over him, smoking gun in hand. The villain looks up and says: “Can you see me?”

And the hero, a little gloating, responds: “Yeah, and you look terrible.”

The villain asks his question again–“Can you see me?”–as though he didn’t hear. Our Hero realizes the man can’t see or hear him; he’s already too close to death. Mancuso, in that moment, plays it perfectly. He shows a flash of regret at the snark he’s just laid out, because the narrative has turned the villain into a pathetic figure in the space of one BLAM!. “Stingray” realized he was punching down.

The panel itself was fine, although the message board software was a little woogy. Actually, it was fun. I look forward to Sunday morning’s panel.

I’d planned to stay up for James Enge’s author chat, but I’m fading already. Sorry, man.

The Writer’s Life

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Can I be CASTLE? Seriously?

I don’t know if any of you watched that show, but Nathan Fillion plays a filthy rich bestselling novelist with the mayor on speed dial. Now, I realize that, fundamentally, TV is not real, but I still love the fantasy life–as long as I don’t have to become a divorced, irresponsible boy-child who drinks and gambles too much. I’d rather keep my wife, and I’m happy to accept all that money, too.

As a show, it’s fine. The two stars have a bit of chemistry and the mystery was fun. Too bad it’s on so late.

Next: here’s a NSFW review of some time-traveling erotica. Um, yeah. Has to be seen to be believed.

Also, some folks are very happy that Warren Lapine has bought Realms of Fantasy, and will continue publishing it. I admit to being more skeptical that things will turn out well.

Finally, I finished the minor revisions for Everyone Loves Blue Dog during the wee hours of the morning. Being sick and sleepless has advantages. There’s still more work to do, since the ending needs work. Not coincidentally, I also read this interview. The author being interviewed at that link has a refreshingly practical attitude, but I’m not sure it would suit me.

If I’m still sick tomorrow, I’ll stay home for work and try to finish the whole thing.

Hope everyone is having a good day.

Sites for Readers

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Is anyone reading this active on one of these sites?

LibraryThing
GoodReads
Shelfari
LivingSocial
RedRoom
WeRead

I find that Child of Fire is already on Shelfari and I am already on LibraryThing under my short story name.

But are any of you folks active on these sites? If so, what do you like about it?

I’m allergic to the idea of joining a social networking site solely to promote my book (although I received this list of sites from a how-to-promote document from my publisher)–in fact, I’m tempted to drop my book cover as my default user icon on LiveJournal because I’m thinking it’s a little tacky. But I’m not averse to joining an interesting site.

What do you think?

Book three and book two

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First, a link: We’ve already had Jane Austen meets Dracula. Then we had Jane Austen and Zombies.

Now, finally, to complete the trifecta, we have Pride and Predator, courtesy of, yes, Elton John. (Seen via Bookslut.)

Would you really rather live in a different world than this one?

And now to more/less serious things. This morning I really dug into Man Bites World and did a lot of good work. I finished well, well over my daily quota–far enough over, in fact, that I was thinking I might manage my weekly quota by Friday and could (gasp!) sleep in on Saturday morning.

Then I came home and found my editorial notes on Everyone Love Blue Dog waiting in my inbox.

Which means it’s time to put book three aside and get back to book two, momentum or no. And the notes are very good, too, just what you’d expect. (Side note: I’m told book two will be coming out in May 2010, tentatively)

And unfortunately, they’re just what I was afraid of, too. The biggest note is on the ending. It’s meant to be a tragedy–violent, thrilling, and terrible, in which the protagonist is backed into a situation where he has to fight people he doesn’t want to fight.

Should I change it so he doesn’t fight them? So they don’t die, but instead wake up later with amnesia? Let his partner live to come back in another book? And that minor character? And that one and that one, too?

Too many corpses is the verdict. I don’t know what to think about that. That final fight scene was the scene the whole book was aiming toward. It’s why the protagonist is wrestling with PTSD in book three and is desperate for some kind of redemption.

And these are books about a basically decent guy who’s been drafted into an organization of ruthless killers. Should we expect him to get a little murderer on him sometimes?

At the same time, I understand the concern. The ending is very dark. Very dark. Maybe it’s “I’ll never read anything by this asshole again” dark. I don’t read many books like that, so why did I write one?

Seriously, I read books that are harrowing but basically fun, so why am I talking to my wife about comparisons between the basic brutality of incredibly powerful utterly alien supernatural beings and the sociopaths on third world death squads?

This is something I need to figure out. What makes you pick up a book you would consider “dark.” A book that is harsh and unforgiving to its characters, where they face deadly situations and actually die. When, if ever, do you go looking for that?

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“What it suggests to us is that, when they’re reading the story they’re building simulations in their heads of events that are described by the story. And so there’s an important sense that, as they build that simulation, that it’s significantly like being there.”

“… Language itself is a form of virtual reality.”

Two quick writing links

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First, I’m sure Nick Mamatas will mock this article as soon as he hears about it. I haven’t finished it yet (I’m at work) but so far it looks interesting.

This Letter to an MFA is a very interesting little treatise on creating a story. It’s short, too. Check it out.

Both links above are from here. You’re welcome.

And, because I know you’re all dying to know, I received my notes on the book three proposal today. They’re good, too, and not at all what I was expecting. I can’t respond to them here, though, so I have a lot to do tonight.