First one: No kids around? In the mood for some sick, disturbing humor? Watch Silence of the Lambs: The Musical animated with Legos.
Second one: Lots of kids around? Want to watch an amazing artistic and technical achievement? Watch an animation done entirely out of graffiti.
Actually, if you only have time for one, don’t miss that second one.
First the links:
Writers, Do not call a publisher, even if you’re “calling on behalf of an agent”. ::Rolls eyes::
And, here’s a list you didn’t know you absolutely had to read: Twenty Ridiculous Complaints Made By Tourists. The first one, about the aroused elephant, is priceless.
From Failblog.org: Child safety: You’re doing it wrong.
From Failblog.org part 2: Is this really a bag of Doritos?
I love the serene look on the yellow guy’s face. Crotch-stomp=bliss.
And now, galleys: I’m told that Del Rey will be printing over 500 bound galleys for Child of Fire, and 300 of them will be given away at San Diego Comic Con. They’ll also be the only fiction advance reader edition they’ll be giving away at the event. Pretty cool, thinks me.
And I’m one of them.
Last night, I was playing “Indiana Jones and the Emperor’s Tomb” and I was trying to work my way through the Prague levels, which take place in a castle. Why is that bad? Because the character has to walk on high ledges, jump from one building to another, shimmy of chains, use his whip as a swing and generally get very very high.
Me, I don’t like the heights. I could barely watch the end of Peter Jackson’s version of KING KONG on my 19″ TV set because the image of the ape at the edge of that building made me nauseous.
And yeah, so did Indy. Several times, I had to jump out into the void and catch a chain, then swing back and forth and jump to catch another chain or a ledge by my fingertips. Then there were the fist- and gunfights on balconies.
Whenever someone fell, screaming all the way down, I got a knot in my stomach. And when it happened to Indy I had to walk away from the computer.
Some people shouldn’t play computer games.
I’m sure this will be all over by the time I post it, but check it out.
Sci-Fi Channel to change it’s name to SyFy this summer.
No, that’s not The Onion. And today isn’t April 1st (I checked). Despite a double-digit increase in earnings, they really are changing the name because they think it’s been holding them back.
Mr. Brooks said that when people who say they don’t like science fiction enjoy a film like “Star Wars,” they don’t think it’s science fiction; they think it’s a good movie.
“We spent a lot of time in the ’90s trying to distance the network from science fiction, which is largely why it’s called Sci Fi,” Mr. Brooks said. “It’s somewhat cooler and better than the name ‘Science Fiction.’ But even the name Sci Fi is limiting.”
But wait! Turn off your outrage machine! There’s also this:
It also positions the brand for future growth by creating an ownable trademark that can travel easily with consumers across new media and nonlinear digital platforms, new international channels and extend into new business ventures.
That’s right. Hidden beside the bashing of its core audience (you know, people who like science fiction) is a smart business decision. They want a trademark they can paste onto projects in other media, including a long-rumored MMORPG (did I get that right?) that will tie in to a TV series.
They’re also planning to launch Syfy Games and Syfy Kids. I think they were smart to change the name. They’re going to have branding that is uniquely their own.
Although they should have gone with “Skiffy”.
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.
I just finished another Flycon panel on Dark Fantasy and Horror–some smart people said smart things, and I talked too. You can read it here if you like.
Sorry that I forgot to post a reminder before hand. I was tempted to backdate a note that said “Come join the fun!” but how fair would that be?
In other news, I always play computer and console games on the easiest possible setting. That’s how you do it, too, right?
… is done.
I’ll email if to my agent when I get home. Since she’s going to get a fresh read of it from another agent, I imagine I’ll have more notes soon. And I’m not sure if my editor wants this version or wants to wait until I execute notes from this new read.
But it’s 5:30 pm, and I haven’t eaten a bite since six am. I’m just been working and pushing and doing on this thing all day. (And hanging out a Flycon 2009.)
Deadline, schmedline. I’m taking tomorrow off.
And… it’s been emailed to my agent. Goodbye, book! Have a nice long trip!
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:
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.
I’ll be taking part in my first author panel ever, as part of Flycon 2009. It’ll be taking place right here at 8 pm PST.
Drop by if you like. I plan to embarrass the hell out of myself.
Eta: It’s over.
I’ve been so swamped with everything, that I haven’t been able to to make a sensible comment on the racism in sf conversation that’s been going around. And now that Mary Anne Mohanraj has written this post on John Scalzi’s blog, I don’t have to.
Because those four points are pretty much the basics of my understanding about race in this country (except she expresses them better than I ever could). A racist culture produces racist citizens, and I’m one of them. I’m not proud of it–in fact, I’d very much like to fix that part of my mental programming. It’s difficult, though. As pnh said several weeks ago, this stuff in ingrained in us.
Anyway, I’m going to leave out the other comments I was considering–I’m far from an expert here, and I’m still reading and thinking on what people say. I’m also turning off comments, because this isn’t the best place to discuss the issue. Check out the post and follow the links. Good night.