Kelly Meding’s section of A Glimpse of Darkness just went live. Check it out and vote for what happens next!
Spent much of last night shooting a video with my son. Not actually finished, but damn did we have a good time.
My wife and son have gone out without me. Think of it as a date. They’re going to a concert and will maybe get a dessert afterwards.
Meanwhile I’m left at home. I’ve already scrubbed the pots and pans, loaded and run the dishwasher, then vacuumed. Now I’m going to put on some Tom Waits, fire up the writing computer, and revise that essay to acceptability. First, though, I’ll perform the ritual that will summon my guardian angel, Mac Freedomiel.
Woo!
1) Chicken McNuggets are made of this pink goop. Oh, lame-ass standup comics of yesteryear, the truth is so much worse than you imagined! By god, industrial food is repulsive.
2) “If you do this in an email, I hate you.”
3) Ten greatest all-nude fight scenes in comics. So… yeah, it’s funny and dopey and juvenile, but it’s funny. Also, the comments are hilarious.
4) I was pretty stupid when I was younger, but never this stupid. Video.
5) SF Signal has done a “mind meld” about the idea of a Star Wars reboot, and most of the writers say “No,” “NO!” and “Don’t bother.” Of course, I planned out a Star Wars: A New Hope reboot last year.
6) “First with my son, and now with my new love, I was learning that conspiracy
and dominance are not the only ways to be close to someone.” This essay/memoir/confessional is a few years old (ancient in internet time) but still powerful as hell. Carver is a terrific writer.
7) Sucking air through clenched teeth alert: Woman mistakenly uses super glue instead of eye drops. Note to self: move all butcher knives out of the prop knife drawer.
Heh. I finished up the latest section of A Key, An Egg… yesterday morning. It was a really difficult section, too, in which a home invasion completely destroys the protagonist’s house, and dangerously ups the stakes.
Now I get to start the whole book over from page one. After a healthy dose of outlining, of course. Fun!
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Ta-Nahisi Coates said that obesity is the third rail of the blogosphere, and damn if he isn’t right. He links to a rather tame and unimpressive post about the BMI which had to have comments closed because people went nuts.
Because… yeah. As a culture we’re raising awareness about sexual pleasure and, even if we aren’t 100% sane (or ever likely to be) we’re tossing the issues of privacy, preference, et al back and forth.
Not so with the pleasure that comes from eating. People are still weird about their food. Anyone who talks about vegetarianism knows that. People have strange compulsions regarding their food, and they hate to let other people examine them closely.
Coates also says, in the comments, that his legs hurt constantly when he was 295. Damn. I weigh about that and have the same problem…
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Last, I want to take note of this essay by Richard Kadrey about his new Sandman Slim novel.
Let me start by saying these books sound very good. They sound like they would fall right into my reading sweet spot: Fantasy elements in a book inspired by the best crime and detective fiction of the previous century. Wait a minute! Is this my book? ::checks Amazon.com sales ranking:: Nope! His numbers are too good.
My point is, that if I weren’t trying to write something utterly different from my usual stuff, I’d be all over this guy’s books like ugly on an ape. Then I read this:
It all comes down to this: I’m not an artist. I know artists. I have friends who are artists and I’m not one of them. Mickey Spillane said it best, “I’m not an author. I’m a writer. That’s all I am.” Occasionally I wonder if I even write novels. I write long shaggy dog stories. Messy, kind of odd and noisy. I love the graceful sloppiness of early punk and the garage rock you find on Lenny Kaye’s Nuggets record series. I feel like my books and stories are similar to the way Iggy Pop describes The Stooges music, “It’s dumb. But it’s smart dumb.” My books are basically Raw Power with commas.
Hmph! I’m guessing Iggy Pop isn’t a musician, then, because he doesn’t play music.
I’ve gotta spray this grafitti again: If you’re writing fiction, you are an artist. I don’t want to get into a debate about where to draw the line through art/not art. Fiction isn’t an edge case. Fiction is art.
Now, it may be bad art. It may be utterly conventional art. It may be an ass-kissing hand-jobbing desperate-to-please whore in a Mary Sue mask, but it’s still art.
Art isn’t a term of praise. It’s not a label we reserve for those things that “terrify” us but never “seduce” us. It’s not a superlative. If you make something that exists mainly for the purpose of evoking an emotional reponse from people–in other words, if you’ve written a story, you’ve made art.[1]
[1] What say you, Wikipedia? “Art is the process or product of deliberately arranging elements in a way to affect the senses or emotions. It encompasses a diverse range of human activities, creations, and modes of expression, including music, literature, film, sculpture, and paintings.”
That makes a lot of people uncomfortable. I know; I used to be one of them. Also, I used to get as obnoxious about it as: “Yes, I wonder about the nature of our existence, but I don’t get all Tolstoy about it.”
So I understand the urge to try to avoid being an artist. Who wants to be compared to Tolstoy? Who wants their readers to think the books we write are good for them? Does McDonald’s go around telling customers that their burgers are high in fiber?
Hell no. McDonald’s wants to sell their burgers; they only talk about the taste and talk about nutrition as a side issue. Eat this tasty burger! Read this exciting thriller! Don’t worry, I’m not like those high-minded guys your school teachers forced on you. I’m fun!
It doesn’t work, and it damages the art you make.
Call it low art if you want. Or pop art. Hell, call it “art-tertainment.” I don’t care. But don’t try to tell me it’s not art.
And buy that dude’s book, because it sounds awesome.
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Jeez, I’m really ranty these last two weeks, eh?
Let me make up for that with this: you can win a free copy of GAME OF CAGES (plus other awesome books) by entering this Suvudu contest.
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Anyway, I won’t be around to respond to comments for a while. I’m in training today and tomorrow. Pity me!
Lucy A. Snyder’s chapter of this shared chain story is up on the Suvudu site. She took the voter’s choice at the end of my session and ran with it.
And she wasn’t as long-winded as I was, either.
The chain story is now about half-way through. Pop on over, give it a read and place your vote before it’s too late.
Apparently, I live in a world where I order checks from my bank but the checks never come. Yes, world, I know there are these things called electronic payments, but some stuff still wants a check.
Anyway, did you know that Monday morning is supposed to be the busiest web day of the week? We self-promoters are supposed to save “big” posts for now, when they’ll get the largest audience. Me, I’m writing about a box of checks that should’ve arrived already. See the famous author ply his craft.
In other vital news, for you weekend non-readers, I had a fun Saturday and Sunday, sort of. Sat was great, with a trip to the local Lego convention, BrickCon. Pictures here. I also received a ton of family-friendly rpg suggestions on my blog and LJ. Thank you to everyone who chimed in.
Sunday was quiet for various reasons. I set my laptop very high–on a stool on top of a table–so I could write standing up. The reduction in leg pain at the end of the day was startling; I’m going to try it again today.
If I were the sort of person who wanted to tie all this disparate stuff together (and I am) I’d link to Michelle Sagara’s posts about writerly self-promotion. Here’s part one. You can click through to the rest if you’re interested. I was and am.
She pulls together a lot of interesting ideas and presents them in a more coherent way than I would, and she also makes me realize that I’m okay with not being an internet celebrity a la Scalzi. Yeah, he sells a lot of books and has tremendous name recognition, but do you know how much time he must spend reading through his own comments, wielding the Mallet of Loving Correction?
I swear to god, I’d never have time for anything else.
I’m really lucky in that it’s extremely rare for me to get a nasty comment or annoying visitor–it hasn’t happened for months. Everyone who drops by here has been really kind to me, and I’m grateful for that. What I really need to do, mentally, is to separate my enjoyment of my own little space online with my desire for ten million people to read my books and Sam Worthington[1] to be cast in the movie version.
I’m off to make coffee and write now before the rest of the family wakes up. My wip has been coming together in my head in a rather sudden way, and I need to finish this scene and jump back to outlining. See you online.
[1]I’ve actually never seen any of the dude’s movies, but I assume he’d be great.
1) Logan’s Run as a Lego diorama. For you younger readers, Logan’s Run is an old book and movie. This picture isn’t from BrickCon, btw.
2) Celebrity Twitter accounts reviewed.
4) Baby Monkey Riding Backwards on a Pig. This is my new favorite song. Video.
But not this time. I’ve stacked a table on top of a table and I’m working on my wip while standing. The usual pain I’ve been used to has become much too intense lately. I’m hoping a change in position will make things easier on my legs.
Which puts me in the odd position of reducing knee, ankle, and muscle pain by getting up. What the hell. Variety is the spice, right?
I was gone most of the day taking my wife and son to BrickCon (and the library). The displays were, as usual, amazing. The vendor prices were, as usual, appalling. When we left, we were not wearing rain barrels for clothing. I’m calling that a win.
And of course I took pictures: Continue reading