I Have Measured Out My Life with Coffee Spoons ... And I've Found Tea to be Better

Submitting to a contest...

2010-01-30T16:03:00.001-05:00

Happy New Years!

2010-01-01T01:02:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year!

Been busy.

2010. God, I'm going to be 30 here soon.

Nothing new to blog. I'm pretty much a loser in that arena. Anyway, happy new year to all!

Twitter Fun

2009-04-26T18:34:00.001-04:00

Had fun posting as Sarah Pinborough's liver on twitter. Everyone was good sport. A few people got on as her other parts and got a little weird.

It was a good time, but all good things must come to an end.

Fs for Everyone!

2009-04-26T15:12:00.000-04:00

I hate grading
I hate it a lot
Who’er invented it
They should be shot

And hung by their necks
Until they are dead
Or maybe I’ll give them
My grading instead.

Betwixt the Genres

2009-04-21T21:01:00.003-04:00

I love to write. The trouble is, I have such trouble figuring out what I want to write. I have several projects going, many of them I think could turn out pretty well. The problem is that I have no idea what would have the best chance of making it into print.

I know, I know: write what I read. Problem is, I read in all the genres I love to write.

I would love to do some steampunky YA, but I really want to do some dark fiction for MG boys. Not to mention, I love horror, scifi, and noir-ish crime.

I love supernatural elements, but don't like them overdone. For example, I like the Dresden novels, but sometimes, they're a little heavy on the magic and the trouble at the end of each chapter trope becomes a bit tiresome. I can almost see the puppetmaster's strings, and I don't like that.

So, how do I combine all these cool genres and stuff and still be identifiable within a genre, because we all know that's how the industry works.

I could do some kind of YA steampunk horror in space, but, man, that seems like overload. I just can't see a fifteen year old who loves tinkering and has a crush on the captain's daughter fighting off a steampunk cyborg that slips in and out of peoples' dreams and murders them while in hypersleep, or something.

Beam me up, Freddy!

So, here I am with a bloody brass cog spinning, trying to weave some kind of yarn that would not only be enjoyable, but also sell.

Back to grinding away the keys. Maybe tonight I'll work on that urban fantasy with fallen angels...

It's been awhile...

2009-04-19T20:28:00.003-04:00

I just don't blog like I used to.

But I do tweet, occasionally.

These days, I feel more like an observer.

Urban Fantasy, before it was a Niche...

2008-06-23T22:37:00.001-04:00

circa 1980, hence the source of all my inspiration...

Measure Twice, Cut Once

2008-06-19T18:06:00.003-04:00

We bought a new bed. The old bed was scarred, beaten, berated, and thirteen years old. It really was time for a new one and we decided to go all out.

We bought a king size bed with a pillow-top. It's soft, it's firm, it's amazing.

And it doesn't fit in our bedroom.

We have a pretty small house, on the whole. We're two rather rotund people (slightly overweight, or as my wife says "obese." We have differing perspectives on the matter.) and we have two children. We have two goldfish (as long as we remember to feed them) and tons and tons of books.

We didn't realize how big a king size bed was going to be, but we thought we'd splurge a bit. Pamper ourselves. So, we purchased a moderately priced bed that works for both of us. We had fun trying out the various beds, seeing what we liked and didn't like. It's our first bed buying experience as a married couple and we're nearly six years in.

But the delivery guys laughed. The bed is as tall as our two year old and you can't open any of the dresser drawers. It's crazy.

Before we bought the bed, I hesitated. I thought for a moment about going home to measure the bedroom and get an idea of what we can fit, but I didn't.

So here we are with a super-large bed that uber-comfortable and a bathroom we have to shimmy between mattress and dresser to enter.

Fantastic! :)

Measure first, then decide. Always good advice.

A Table of Contents to emeraldcite's Fiction and Poetry

2008-06-13T12:51:00.008-04:00

Fiction Shorts

Carry that Weight
The Days Alone, Part I
A Disturbance in the Classroom
Fisher of Beasts
The Hit Gone Terribly Right
In Print
Midnight Snack
Untitled

Fiction

"Vampire Earth," Bloodlust-UK (2002 or 2003?) [Man, this is from so long ago. I was a terrible writer then. Hell, I'm a pretty terrible write now :)]

Poetry

Villanelle for the Ages

I write like a girl...

2007-02-17T09:37:00.000-05:00

I stole this from the good people at Making Light, who always have fabulous posts and links.

So, apparently, I write like a girl. This site uses complex (and in my opinion, totally invented) algorithms to examine the text of a sample and guess the gender.

Yeah, I plugged in a blog post. It says I'm female. I plugged in fiction. It says I'm a girl.

I'm starting to get insulted at this point, so I plug in some Hemingway. Lo and behold, it says the manliest man of the literary world is also a girl.

Something is definitely wrong with this program.

Give the Gender Genie a try for yourself.

Shun the Non-Believer!

2007-02-15T18:49:00.000-05:00

This is too freakin' much.

Enjoy!

Tragic-Beautiful

2007-02-07T18:16:00.000-05:00

Prehistoric lovers found locked in eternal embrace

Archaeologists have unearthed two skeletons from the Neolithic period locked in a tender embrace and buried outside Mantua, just 25 miles south of Verona, the romantic city where Shakespeare set the star-crossed tale of "Romeo and Juliet."

Read the article here.

Can you get any better than this?

2006-11-20T23:21:00.000-05:00

You are The Devil

Materiality. Material Force. Material temptation; sometimes obsession

The Devil is often a great card for business success; hard work and ambition.

Perhaps the most misunderstood of all the major arcana, the Devil is not really "Satan" at all, but Pan the half-goat nature god and/or Dionysius. These are gods of pleasure and abandon, of wild behavior and unbridled desires. This is a card about ambitions; it is also synonymous with temptation and addiction. On the flip side, however, the card can be a warning to someone who is too restrained, someone who never allows themselves to get passionate or messy or wild - or ambitious. This, too, is a form of enslavement. As a person, the Devil can stand for a man of money or erotic power, aggressive, controlling, or just persuasive. This is not to say a bad man, but certainly a powerful man who is hard to resist. The important thing is to remember that any chain is freely worn. In most cases, you are enslaved only because you allow it.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

99 Words of Horror Contest

2006-10-21T12:16:00.000-04:00

my trophy :)

Here is my entry for Matt D's contest over at Fireflies in the Cloud.

It's a pretty sweet contest, so check it out if you're interested.

So, without further ado.

Midnight Snack

My wife can’t stand the guttural growls of the refrigerator at night.

People have looked at it. Nothing’s wrong with it except for the groans like a hungry stomach.

She screams at it in the middle of the night. Sometimes her words devolve into gibberish. She hits it, too. Then, on a particularly bad night for my wife, it stopped. I figured she fixed it once and for all.

In the morning, my wife’s side of the bed was cold. She wasn’t in the kitchen. I grabbed the refrigerator handle and opened the door. Light poured out.

And blood.

True Story

2006-10-13T16:29:00.000-04:00

True Story:

My daughter, who is seven, comes skipping out of her room with a stuffed baby Cookie Monster.

She dances it in front of her two-month-old brother's eyes and says in a high, falsetto voice:

I'm the Cookie Monster and I eat cookies. And guess what your soul is shaped like?

This is her idea of playing with her sibling.

I have trained her well. :)

Grading Kills Me

2006-10-11T22:31:00.000-04:00

Grading.

It's such a drain.

It's such a drain on the brain.

Sometimes, I just pop in a movie, collapse on the couch, and read papers, swishing the blue pen (they fear the red) across the page like a painter with a one-hair brush.

But it's tiring. Grading eats the soul.

There's a stack of them here now, staring me in the face. They're calling. Calling for marks.

Edit me. Grade me. Pull me apart like you lovemehateme.

I feel like a sycophant medical examiner getting his rocks off on opening up the chest cavities of the deceased to weigh the heart and say to himself, Tsk. Tsk. This just doesn't feel quite right...but I'm so damn good...

I know how to fix you. Let me show you. It'll hurt, but it'll be okay--

because in the end, I really do know what I'm doing.

Undead 3 Anthology

2006-09-17T11:06:00.000-04:00

My short story "Adam Repentant" will appear in the third Undead Anthology, currently subtitled "," sometime in early 2007 from Permuted Press.

The first Undead Anthology was an excellent read, so I have no doubt that this volume will be just as good.

Being a zombie fan, I'm pretty excited to be included in this collection.

As it gets closer to publication, I will update.**

**10/26/06--Updated to reflect a change in publication plans.

Anne Frasier's Pale Immortal

2006-09-05T00:00:00.000-04:00

I had the chance to read an ARC copy of Pale Immortal and it is excellent! I'll try to post an official review this week, depending on whether the baby allows me too!

Go buy it at your local bookstore today! Don't miss out on another excellent novel of suspense from best-selling author Anne Frasier!

PALE IMMORTAL
SEPTEMBER 5
PENGUIN/NAL/ONYX

Watch the music video, listen to the soundtrack and mp3s, read the
first two chapters, and learn more at:

http://paleimmortal.blogspot.com/

Welcome to Tuonela, a sleepy Wisconsin town haunted by events of 100 years ago, when a man who may have been a vampire slaughtered the town's citizens and drank their blood. Now, another murderer is killing the most vulnerable...and draining their bodies of blood.

Evan Stroud lives in darkness. The pale prisoner of a strange disease that prevents him from ever seeing the light of day, he lives in tragic solitude, taunted for being a "vampire." When troubled teenager Graham Stroud appears on Evan's doorstep, claiming to be his long-lost son, Evan's uneasy solitude is shattered.

Having escaped Tuonela's mysterious pull for several years, Rachel Burton is now back in town, filling in as coroner. Even as she seeks to identify the killer, and uncover the source of the evil that seems to pervade the town, she is drawn to Evan by a power she's helpless to understand or resist....

As Graham is pulled deeper and deeper into Tuonela's depraved, vampire-obsessed underworld, Rachel and Evan team up to save him. But the force they are fighting is both powerful and elusive...and willing to take them to the very mouth of hell.

pale immortal

How Newborn Babies Are Like Black Holes

2006-08-19T18:39:00.000-04:00

1. Like Black Holes, babies warp time and space.

For example, whenever I hold Alex time slows down, just as time stretches out as it reaches the event horizon.

2. Like Black Holes, babies suck in everything around them.

For example, Alex will attempt to suck on anything. Fingers, toys, and my nipples. Note to self: no matter how hot it is, leave your shirt on...

3. Like Black Holes, babies let nothing escape.

For example, once I start holding Alex, I cannot put him down, even if he is asleep. If I do, he knows.

He always knows.

4. Like Black Holes, babies cannot be completely understood.

For example, when Alex cries, I usually have no idea if he wants to eat, sleep, or just has gas...

5. Like Black Holes, babies are merciless.

For example, no matter how tired or hungry I am, Alex does not care. I am his.

The Arrival

2006-08-10T22:25:00.000-04:00

This is the reason I haven't been blogging lately.

Alexander
9 lbs 10.5 ounces
22.5 inches long
100% Adorable

Monty Python and Star Trek: A Geek's Dream

2006-07-28T14:00:00.000-04:00

http://www.devilducky.com/media/48608/

I stole this link from Cherie Priest, author of Four and Twenty Blackbirds.

This is too funny.

I've been exceptionally lazy lately with my posts, mostly stealing links from others. The baby is soon here (less than three weeks) and I start back to work next week.

I feel consumed.

Maybe I'll come up with something clever soon.

Why Apple Sucks.

2006-07-23T21:03:00.000-04:00

I'm sorry Apple users, but this isn't about computers. It's about Quicktime.

Sadly, when Apple upgraded their Quicktime media player, they left out those of us who still use Windows ME.

Now, I can't watch any of the new trailers for films that are coming out until someone converts them to Mediaplayer or Realplayer.

Was it so hard to make it work for Windows ME too?

This stinks.

My Geek is Showing. F-ing, awesome!

2006-07-18T23:23:00.000-04:00

This short film is great.

I love Youtube!

Genre-ize Me

2006-07-02T17:55:00.000-04:00

Okay, this is where I really have trouble. My entry into the Clarity Of Night Flash Fiction Contest has me a bit boggled about genre.

I'm curious, what genre would this be? Urban Fantasy? I'm not really sure. Thoughts? How would you classify something like this?

Here it is if you didn't see it before:

Fisher of Beasts

Some of us were sent out to be fishers of men, but there are those sent out to be fishers of beasts.

Azazel, one of the Grigori, the Watchers of Men, had fallen and revealed the art of sword making. Now, he stood at a corner smoking a cigarette, his dark hair matted against his forehead, hawking cheap guns.

“Men shouldn’t fight,” I said.

“We’re not men, are we?” He stamped out his cigarette.

“It’s never too late. I’ve recruited many and they believe this too.”

Azazel laughed through a deep cough.

I smiled. “Not as well as we used to be?”

Azazel pulled a .45 from his vest. “These are not mortal bullets, my friend. These are consecrated with the secrets of our kind.”

I slipped a hand inside my coat and brought out a small piece of chalk. I knelt and drew a circle around my feet, marking symbols in each of the cardinal directions.

Azazel erupted into another coughing fit and squeezed off a shot. When I didn’t react, he fired twice more.

I tossed a small white card outside the circle. “Call me when you change your mind.”

Azazel picked up the card, squinted at it, and tucked it into a pocket on his vest. “Don’t count on it.”

He tore off down an alleyway.

Some were meant to be fishers of men, but I am a fisher of beasts because when I look up at the midnight sky, I see home.

Rest in Peace, Jim Baen

2006-06-29T15:07:00.000-04:00

Over on Baen's Bar, they announced the passing of innovative scifi publisher Jim Baen.

This is a sad day in publishing.

I submit!

2006-06-21T14:18:00.000-04:00

I'm submitting and you should too.

Check out Jason Evans' blog The Clarity of Night where he is holding a flash contest.

My friends,

Tonight, moonlight and clouds weave, and the road stretches in darkness. I invite you to take a walk with me.

Perhaps you need a creative spark. Perhaps you're itching for a challenge. Perhaps you'd like to meet a friend. All of those things, and a little more, are waiting for you on the Midnight Road.

Using the photograph above for inspiration, compose a short fiction piece of no more than 250 words in any genre or style. Paste your entry into an email and send it to me at jevanswriter at yahoo dot com any time between now and midnight, Wednesday, June 28th (Eastern Standard Time, United States). Each entry will be posted and indexed.

To make things interesting, the following prizes are on the line (and to support the publishing industry!!):

--1st Place, $35 Amazon gift certificate
--2nd Place, $25 Amazon gift certificate
--3rd Place, $15 Amazon gift certificate
--4th Place, $10 Amazon gift certificate
--5th Place, $5 Amazon gift certificate

But this is about more than prizes. I hope you take advantage of the opportunity to meet and interact with your fellow writers. Read and comment on the entries. Teach, and learn, from others. Let's make writing a less lonely process.

At the end of the contest, I will post what I liked most about each entry. Also, if you request it, I would be happy to offer any constructive comments I might have by private email.

Check out the rules. It's only 250 words and maybe an hour of your life. Really, what else are you going to do with that hour?

Watch reruns of Friends back to back? Surf the web? Blow your nose?

Why not write.

Hurry. The deadline is June 28th. And if you're not savvy with the gregorian calendar, that means you have one week, a mere seven days, to complete your 250 word masterpiece and submit it for your chance to win. C'mon. You know you want one of those great Amazon certificates.

On a side note, I had a villanelle accepted by Astropoetica. I'll post a link when it comes out. Woo Hoo!

Bipolar Hitchhiker

2006-06-11T13:15:00.000-04:00

In light of the last post made late in the evening, I bring you the Vogon Poetry Generator. Make your own. Share the wealth. Impress the literati with your deft wordsmithing.

Thanks to Dawno for this great link.

And without further ado...

See, see the vapid sky
Marvel at its big pinkolicious depths.
Tell me, Jim do you
Wonder why the North American Butt Razor ignores you?
Why its foobly stare
makes you feel croggy.
I can tell you, it is
Worried by your wrorff! facial growth
That looks like
A rotten meat.
What's more, it knows
Your fallacious potting shed
Smells of martian.
Everything under the big vapid sky
Asks why, why do you even bother?
You only charm skunks.

And no day is complete without a little song and dance from Captain Picard:

Somewhere out there...

2006-06-10T23:27:00.000-04:00

Somewhere out there is another me, another name. This Other, this simulacrum, is twisted and deformed; in other words, my Id unmediated.

This thing metes out the dreams and nightmares eating up space behind those locked doors. It's crowded in there and something wants out. This verso of me reads different, like text in a warped mirror, curvy and distended.

This other me hates. This other me desires. This other me searches out the things that should be left unsaid and offers them up to the light. His words are musty like books left to rot in a cellar.

He feeds on this. He shares this.

In his own blog. Out there in the aether, another me lives and kills in words.

Absolutewrite

2006-05-27T12:25:00.000-04:00

I haven’t blogged about this yet because I’m still seething.

Absolutewrite has been an online home and resource for me since May of 2003 (I looked up my ezboard account, some of you may remember those days!). I’ve been a mod there for almost as long. I remember when it was a burgeoning community of nearly 2000 members and was, before the host pulled the plug, well over 7000 members.

That’s a small town.

This is not just any writes’ forum, there are plenty of those out there. This is years and years of history, a history of a community of family and friends that has been around for so long. A number of writers, including myself, cut my teeth there. Many have been saved from scam operations like agents and publisher. It was a wealth of information, and because of a scam agent and some poor decisions by the ISP, it could all be lost.

I’m not going to rehash the story here, propagate the truth or the rumors. I can only talk about what that community meant to me. You can find bits and pieces all over the web, look for them there. What I can say is that this whole mess is depressing. It all comes down to the people involved with AW’s absence not realizing the beehive they were smacking with sticks.

I know that AW will rise again. We will make that happen. It will be a better, stronger community than before because that’s what happens to a community when it faces disaster.

Most of all, I know that we will continue to help writers grow, that we will continue to steer authors away from scam agents like Barbara Bauer (whose skullduggery is well-documented by the people at Writer Beware), and that we will continue to be the largest family on the web.

You can find most of the story on the web. Check out these sites for the info:

Read Jenna Glatzer’s blog, the founder of Absolutewrite. Also read Dawno’s blog, she started the Tecnorati revolution! Viva la Danwo! Read Macallister Stone’s blog for some more details and the cool button you see below.

And pass your thanks on to the wonderful people over at Making Light for creating a buzz and giving many of us a refuge during this dark hour. Also, thanks to Miss Snark for discussing this issue.

Also, check out Writer Beware (their list of the twenty worst agents and their little blog, too!) and Preditors and Editors for information about scam agents and publishers. I stand by these sites. Also click on the link below and buy a copy of The Street Smart Writer. If you don’t need it, donate it to your local library and help save a few more writers from the likes of Barbara Bauer.

When you get to The Street Smart Writer, you’ll see my review there. It’s a good, solid resource for beginners and novices alike.

A Little Something Until I Return ... in a few days

2006-05-23T23:47:00.000-04:00

The Hit Gone Terribly Right

I told the guy that the contract stipulates only three attempts, and this is the third; but, I only do it when there’s a real sin. It can’t be for alimony or child support. It can’t be about visitation rights or revenge. Only if there’s a real, verifiable sin. One of the seven deadlies.

Under the tree, their lips come together. She closes her eyes and feels out his form in the dark. They see each other with their hands. They won’t see this coming: the silencer on the barrel nuzzling the back of her neck. One shot and they both eat the big one.

Too easy.

The kids ruined the first attempt. The pair got lucky. The second time the wife came home and the whore slipped out the bedroom window, back into the cradle of her husband’s arms. He hates her, but hides it. I hid in a closet until everyone was asleep and then left.

Now, the fornicators are in the park. The police won’t be surprised by a few more bodies since this is a prime dumping ground for gang violence.

I can feel each contraction of my heart pushing hot blood through my veins. My face flushes with excitement. Here it comes. The moment, the sweet whisper of promises fulfilled.

My feet search out bare patches of ground where the twigs won’t snap. He slides a thick slab of a hand up her shirt as they back against a tree.

She kneels down as he blesses the sky with his words. Her gentle supplication to him makes me want to puke.

I bite down on my tongue and taste iron.

It’ll be a bit harder now, two shots at most. He won’t have time to scream. I’ll do him first and give her another sin to burn off in Hell.

The bodies will lie prostrate and half-naked on the ground: a deep, humiliating repose, justice for my client, justice for my God.

The bushes next to them rustle and I slide back into the shadows. The man, the Glutton, pushes the woman away from him as he grabs at his pants around his ankles. Her eyes downcast, she adjusts her shirt.

Looks like the contract is up. Busted by the guy’s wife.

His hands, palms out, talk for him, explaining. His wife cries tears of pain, insanity. Hot salty, streaks slide down the sides of her face. She covers her eyes and swallows a sob. The other woman, caught and humiliated in lust, turns away.

The husband steps toward his wife, attempting to reconcile. She pushes him back, rage in her eyes.

I could do all three, Wrath, Gluttony, Lust. Two paid for, one in oblation to the Lord.

They yell and it’s time for me to leave. No real loss, I have two more contracts tonight.

Then I hear the report. And a second.

While I was turned around, Wrath pulled a gun and did both Glutton and Lust. She kneels next to the body of her husband and buries her face in his chest.

It was sloppy, but did the trick. I still get paid for those two. Contract fulfilled. I sign the cross, say a little prayer of mercy for the souls of the damned, and slip away into the dark.

Crime-fiction, Writing, Fiction

Strangely Absent

2006-05-10T20:36:00.000-04:00

I feel empty.

Mostly, this is because I haven't posted in what feels like ages. The senior's last day is today, my grades are due in two days, and I'm nowhere near done. This, of course, happens every year, so I am not surprised in the slightest.

Soon I shall return with tidings of the new Tool album and some talk of Star Wars and Cultural Capital.

Yeah, interesting stuff, right? Don't lie to me. I know you're uninterested.

Nevermind, lie to me. I need it.

You think naming your characters is hard...

2006-04-28T22:44:00.000-04:00

naming your kids is even harder.

Been really really really busy, as you may or may not have noticed by my absence these last two weeks. I've been itching to get back online.

My seniors are getting ready to graduate (or in some cases, not graduate).
My wife is getting even more pregnant than she was a few months ago...
My grandfather was ill and was in the hospital for a few days...

Yeah, it's been a toughie. But, as for names we have

Alexander Paul
Sofia Marie

We were hell bent on Hrothgar for a boy, but figured that I didn't want that phone call. You know the one.

"Sir, this is your son's elementary school."
"Is he okay?"
"It seems that your son, Hrothgar, has taken over the playground again. He's claimed the jungle gym for the blood and honor of his kin. We really would like you to come in for a conference."
"Well, was anyone injured?"

We're not sure of the gender. The child was not cooperative during the sonogram. Hopefully, I'll be around more often to visit with my online peeps.

Pure Succinctery: Purple Prose versus Pared-Down Style

2006-04-12T14:17:00.000-04:00

In the left corner we have the purveyor of prose, the dominator of dependent clauses, the flower of purple prose power, Michaelllllllllll Chaaaaaaaabbbbonnnnnnn!

In the right corner we have the page-turner master of religious disaster, the mean read of tweed, the “can’t put me down” Daaaaannnnnnn Brrrrrrooooooowwwwwnnnnn!

Let’s keep it clean folks, free of grammatical errors and holes in the continuity. I want a good, clean book. Let’s get it on!

[ding]

The world is full of different kinds of writers with a myriad of styles, all there to suit individual tastes. We’re like kids in a candy shop, as readers. No matter the genre, we’ll find just what we’re looking for, if we look hard enough. Of course, you may have to try that black licorice you don’t like, or you may come across a flavor of jelly bean that you just can’t stand, but you find those favorites, those local chocolates with peanut butter in the middle. And how you miss those dearly when you move away and wish you could buy them by the ton, but realize that it’ll go straight to you ass after you eat the whole box and no amount of Atkins can fix that…

But, I digress.

When I write, I encounter a quandary: do I compose with all my power, creating long-Germanic sentences that have no end in sight, like long-winding rivers that stretch across the countryside or sentences whose length disappears into the vanishing point of meaning?

Or, should be succinct and say exactly what I mean?

Ultimately, I strive for that balance, that place where I have both meaning and brevity. Where, with a simple turn of a phrase, I guarantee the reader useful information that moves the story forward and an atmosphere that feeds the suspension of disbelief at the same time.

With novels generally falling in the 70,000-100,000 word categories, economy of meaning is so very important.

When I read Michael Chabon, as I suggest you all do for numerous reasons, I bask in the magnificence of his prose, with a little envy of course. Chabon doesn’t fall directly under the shadow of Purple Prose because he does not write in clichés and none of his words seem wasted.

Dan Brown, on the other hand, has pared down his style so much, that the text moves easily and quickly. He keeps his novel moving by cutting out the difficult prose and adheres to the KISS policy. Not the band who should have kept their makeup on in the 80s, but the “Keep It Simple Stupid” policy that seems to do so well en masse.

Obviously these writers have both won, in their own way. Chabon is not an obscure literary writer sipping coffee and enjoying press runs of five hundred. He’s been on best-seller lists numerous times in addition to his lovely prizes. Dan Brown keeps on selling. He’s an anomaly. Maybe he has that controversy + simplicity = success formula down.

I admit that this is all about personal opinion and taste; I don’t necessarily like complex sentences over simple ones. I love Hemingway as much as I adore Chabon. Their text, rather, not the people.

Really, though, this all arrives at one point, one question: in your prose, what do you strive for? Do you lean more toward the complex sentence structure and gold for the ears style of Chabon or the straight-forward, dynamic, and succinct style of Brown?

I don’t think this is ultimately a genre question. I’d argue that Dean Koontz and Stephen King lean more toward Chabon than Brown. This is more about how you write when looking at the spectrum.

Writing

A Different Kind of Composition!

2006-04-11T17:15:00.000-04:00

Some good comments and discussion in the Denotation and Connotation post reminded me of a site I ran across not long ago.

This is hilarious.

www.dictionaroke.org

Some are funnier than others, but all are entertaining. Hours of fun.

There are other sites like that out there and even softeware that helps you put your own together.

weird

Composing with Denotation or Connotation

2006-04-09T13:35:00.000-04:00

When my daughter asks me what a word means, I have trouble conjuring a definition. I can explain what I feel about a word, what I know about a word, and present an example of its use in a sentence, but I just can't tell her an exact definition.

Most of this problem stems from learning words from reading and use rather than memorizing definitions from a dictionary when I was in high school. This also allows me to use more obscure meanings for words as well, which doesn't always work out for the best.

When writing, I tend to feel out my word choices rather than struggling with a definition; however, this sometimes leads to reservations about good word choices. For example, I may have a sentence that sounds great and looks great, but I lack the confidence that it means exactly as I want it to, which is to say that maybe I lack confidence in my ability to write.

When you write, do you work with dictionary definitions or do you "feel out" your words, trusting in the way it feels and not what it means?

Six Degrees to Kevin Bacon

2006-04-05T17:40:00.000-04:00

I took a course in college entitled "The History of Rock 'n Roll" with near-infamous Jerry Zoltan, musician, author, and manager/producer.

He worked with the Fairfield Four (which actually has five members) some of which appeared in the amazing film O Brother, Where Art Thou?

This film stars, as you know, George Clooney. My close proximity to Mr. Clooney would make Miss Snark extremely jealous.

Mr. Clooney worked with Julia Roberts in the exciting and humorous film Ocean's Eleven.

Miss Roberts co-starred with several famous actors in the eerie Flatliners.

One of those famous actors was Kevin Bacon.

In completely unrelated news, you can read my flash fiction piece "In Print" over at the indelible Fictional Musings.

By the way, can you get to Kevin Bacon in six degrees?

Keeps me entertained for hours...

2006-04-04T20:01:00.000-04:00

Get your mind out of the gutter and go play

Zombie Infection Simulation

There are links to others (in small print at the bottom of the page) that become more complex and involve humans who fight back.

This is probably one of those secret government programs that measures infection rates. Scary shit.

Burn off some brain cells and tell me what you think. It's from the same guy who gave us the wonderful, interactive Johari Window!

Everyone Else is Doing It … Fiction, a Trench Coat, and Central Park

2006-04-02T16:24:00.000-04:00

He enters Central Park from the West Side near Strawberry Fields. He desires some place populated, famous. Hundreds of people have gathered at the Imagine Mosaic to pay homage to a fallen hero, a musical demi-god.

They sing songs together, lighting candles, shedding tears. Smiles mingle with false nostalgia.

Now is his time. He screams, feeling his vocal chords stretch to their limit. His voice cracks.

The strumming hands slow to a stop, someone sounds a final, flat chord.

He isn’t nervous. He opens his coat and reveals all that nature gave him.

Fiction, in the buff.

Some say that the short form is dead, that short fiction, so prevalent in the pulps decades ago, has slipped into that great oblivion of ennui.

Well, out of that foaming mass is born a new creature. A sinful ruffian, perverted and crass. He’s not afraid to flaunt what he got.

Flash fiction seems to fill a niche which has grown into a canyon since the advent of TV, commercials, video games, and music videos. How is the novel to survive when film can condense the story into a wonderful, easy-to-swallow, pill form? Hell, if the novel can’t survive, what about short fiction?

Commercials have become ever-more entertaining. Movie trailers are better than the actual films, and in many cases, give away all the best parts. You end up just paying for the filler.

We want pay-offs. If it doesn’t pay-off, then it’s not worth our time.

It’s all around us: Fast-acting. Quick relief. Instant buzz. What does print got on that?

It has flash fiction. Everyone’s doing it. I feel so left out, I guess I gotta give in, right? It’s been popping up over the past few years all over the place. There are sites now like Fictional Musings and Flashing in the Gutters that offer us free, online fixes.

Turn On, Tune In, Drop Out. It’s about goddamnedtime.

On the bright side, it’s practice in plotting, editing, and revising. Just like broccoli, it’s good for you too.

The Best Amazon Reviewer in the World

2006-03-24T22:25:00.000-05:00

Inspired by Anne Frasier's post concerning Amazon Reviews and their utter worthlessness, I recalled a reviewer whose hilarious posts made me laugh nearly as much as the antiquated Weight Watcher's Recipe cards (if you haven't read these, put down your drink and do so. Don't forget your inhaler, you may seize up).

Although some of viktor_57's posts, particularly the one concerning the Phillips Defibrillator, have been taken down, many of his well-written and satirical posts remain.

I suggest you start with the That's So Raven Single-Guest Party Kit, followed by the Metallic Purple Violin.

Finally, just click on his name up there and read them all. It's sad the Defibrillator one no longer exists, it was quite excellent and dealt with Frankenstein.

Enjoy!

So accurate, it's eerie...

2006-03-15T21:26:00.000-05:00

It will take you all of two minutes and the results scared me.

Color Quiz.

Now, I'll have to go into therapy. I've got problems.

After you take the quiz, you will too.

Now, That's What I Call Music

2006-03-14T20:39:00.000-05:00

1) A favorite political track.

I’m split between John Lennon’s “Imagine,” one of the most brilliant songs ever written, and A Perfect Circle’s “Pet” from Thirteenth Step.

Also, APC did a great cover of Lennon’s “Imagine” on a political album that was pretty good. You can listen to the whole thing on their site under music. It’s on the Emotive album.

2) One of those tracks that will get you on the dance floor no matter what.

Um, I don’t dance, but have fond memories of AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” being played at weddings. Nothing like a bunch of drunks rocking out to AC/DC at the reception.

3) The song you’d use to tell someone you love them.

“Something” by the Beatles on the Abbey Road album. Frank Sinatra called it the greatest love song ever written. I agree. It was the song we danced to at our wedding.

4) A song that has made you sit down and analyze its lyrics.

“I Hate the White Man” by Roy Harper and “Karma Police” by Radiohead on the OK Computer album.

5) A song that you like and that a two year old would like as well.

Nine Inch Nails’ “Head Like a Hole.” My daughter was two when she started listening to that album and she still loves that song. I think “Terrible Lie” comes in a close second for her.

We almost took her to the Nine Inch Nails concert, but decided we’ll catch them on the next tour when she’s a little older. We had good seats and she would have been fine with some earplugs, but the last time I saw them in concert I was outside, so it was a little tighter and rougher.

6) A song that gives you an energy boost.

Charles Mingus’ “II B.S.” Brilliant song. Brilliant Man. From Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus.

7) A song that you and your grandparents (would probably) like.

Frank Sinatra’s “Sentimental Journey.” I learned this while I was in kindergarten and had a record of it. Lost it along the way. Very sad.

8) A song that you really liked when you were 14-16, and still really like now.

Nirvana’s “Drain You” from Nevermind. Great song, but I still don’t know what it means.

9) A sad song that would be in the soundtrack of the movie about your life.

Nirvana’s “Dumb” from the In Utero album. Sad. Good. My life.

10) A peppy song that would start the opening credits of the movie about your life.

Maybe “Here Comes the Sun” by the Beatles.

It’s not really peppy, but it’s upbeat. It’s a song about emergence and regeneration. I like it.

11) A good song from a genre of music that no one would guess that you liked.

Hmmm….Eminem’s “The Way I Am.” The man is stupid, but is a natural lyricist.

See also #14, which may be more shocking.

12) A song that you think should have been playing when you were born.

Green Day’s “Having a Blast” from Dookie.

Although, this may earn me a visit from Homeland Security.

13) A favorite artist duo collaboration.

David Bowie and Queen “Under Pressure.”

Glam with magnification.

14) A favorite song that you completely disagree with (politically, morally, commonsenically,
religiously etc.)

Okay. I am morally opposed to canned music, but I have to say that, I’m almost embarrassed beyond belief, that Justin Timberlake’s “Rock your Body” is a good song. He really nails the falsetto.

I know. I should go blow my brains out for this utterance, but there it is. Out in the open.

Edit: I’d like to point out that I don’t own his album or this song. And I’d only buy this album if my wife really wanted it. I would not make this purchase of my own volition.

Good, I feel Justified now.

Gah!

15) The song that you like despite the fact your IQ level drops several points every time you listen to it.

Anything by System of a Down. Particularly “Chop Suey.”

16) Your smooth song, for relaxing.

John Coltrane’s “The Promise” from Live at Birdland.

It starts with Coltrane doubling the notes of his sax by overblowing the reed. (Go give the clip a listen).

I love to turn off the lights, light some candles, and crank up that song. It’s so smooth, so powerful.

17) A song you would send to someone you hate or are mad at.

Something from a boy band, I guess. Nobody wants to listen to a boy band. “Right Stuff” by New Kids on the Block.

Or more seriously…hmmm…

Probably Nine Inch Nails’ “Sin” from Pretty Hate Machine.

Hell, the whole album.

18) A favorite track from an outfit considered a “super-group.”

If you consider REM a supergroup, then I’d go with “You are Everything” from their Green album.

Brilliant song.

19) A song that makes you reminisce about good times with a family member.

Velvet Underground “Heroin” and Neil Young’s “Old Man.”

Odd. Just two that popped into my mind. My dad listened to quite a bit of “Classic Rock” while I was growing up.

20) Your favorite song at this moment in time.

This is tough. I’ve been listening to Bob Dylan’s “Like a Rolling Stone” quite a bit. I never get tired of that song.

This meme is taken from Jennifer Sando’s blog, a fellow AWer.

Anyone else want to play?

Waiting for that next fix…

2006-03-11T21:58:00.000-05:00

I’m itchy. I feel it on the inside, somewhere around my naval and stretching up through my ribs. It wraps around my neck and squirms behind my ears. I feel it spreading throughout my body, a subtle ache in all my joints.

My throat constricts, my nose feels full of mucous. Now I can’t breathe. My tongue is thick in my mouth like it’s been shot up with Novocain. I try to moisten my lips, but I can’t work up the spit. They feel rocky like the mountains, like the rough-riding hikes between boulders.

My eyelids twitch and I wonder if anyone else notices.

I can feel the dilation of my pupils and I know that I shouldn’t. This can’t be happening, but it is.

I scratch at those places I can’t reach with my fingernails and rack my brain for an answer to the question.

The question hurts too and nothing can dull that pain. Right behind my eyes, like an ice pick puncturing the membrane, drilling deep into the gray matter between my temples.

This is cruel and I asked for it. I did this to myself and I hate myself for it.

I love myself for it.

I wish I could kill those existentialist bastards for making that shit up, making me face these questions about wondering what it all means.

Why did I do this? I guess just wanted acceptance.

I look in my mailbox and there it is every time. With my name on it.

And each time I rip open that envelope, I’m just looking for acceptance. Just looking for that fix. Wanting somebody to want me.

Somebody will, no doubt, but until then I’ll just have to face the rejection.

Then send out that submission again.

What was I Thinking?

2006-03-04T21:55:00.000-05:00

When I write, I keep my notes, snippets, and thoughts in little 9.5 x 6 inch notebooks by Mead. They have 80 sheets of paper each and nifty cardboard covers in various colors. I tend to doodle and decorate my notebooks and folders. I personalize each one and use images and words taken from my subconscious. It's like free writing, but with design. I guess it's like putting a little bit of me into each notebook, a bit of magic perhaps.

Sometimes, I like to leaf through them and cull some text that I jotted down one day and left for dead. I also like to look back at things I wrote and try to place it in my memory, to see what I was thinking this day or that. It's like putting together a puzzle, but not really knowing what the picture looks like.

Sometimes, I find notes for an idea or a story, other times I find poems and maxims. I try to remember what I was doing when I wrote it. I attempt to recall the reasons and inspirations. Most of the time I can't figure it out. But I did find some poems in one notebook. These poems were for a grad class, I think. I found them interesting, especially the images. I wonder what I was thinking at the time? I don't think I ever used them for the class, but here they are nonetheless. A note from the past, addressed to me, but left unsigned.

Who knows what I was thinking or dreaming of that day? They're not the best poems I've written. In fact, they're not that good. Here's the text for your enjoyment. Unfiltered, unedited, pure me.

A Day in the Life, Part 1

Never getting that single fix
like you did when fingers
touched naked flesh for the
first time. When red streaks
appear on the hips of a lover;
as a piece of you becoming
a part of me. I lick the
salt From your eyes to
stave off evolution.
I eat your voice when
all logic fails. I digest
it when your hatred
penetrates me like a
serial rapist. Deep,
hurtful, regretful.
Sometimes, I wish
I never left the house,
or watched TV, or read.
God, Mr. Fix-it, Rocket boy,
lift me up when all falls
down. Trade my whispers, dear,
for one gold dollar at a time.
Let your lips form a seal
around mine, breathe the
life out of me,
and call me home,
where the light glows the dance
of rampant fire.

A Day in the Life, Part 2

I sit where it all comes together.
Alone.
I can roll hard stone under my
feet and turn it to soft pebble.
I touch you this way.
I can hand you a single, skeletal
flower wrapped in tissue paper
like a withered cancer patient
sinking in starched hospital bed sheets,
and you would still call that romantic.
I can.
I am walking controversy, erect,
Cro-Magnon, Death in crushed velvet.
The sound of that velvet fuzziness
against worn bone makes me
piss myself in happiness, contented.
And I can stand there, half wet,
with the brave Mississippi trailing
down my leg, and laugh like
a happy first grader as if
his thermos spilled open and not him.
This guilt is like cleaning the maggots from
the lid of the garbage with a paring knife
so your daughter doesn’t think you’re negligent,
just busy.

Who Owns History?: Beating Dan Brown with a Copyright Stick and What that Means for the Rest of Us

2006-03-04T13:23:00.000-05:00

I’ve pretty much ignored the whole James Frey, Nasdijj, and JT LeRoy faux-memoir debacle because I think the industry is having enough trouble as it is without idiots messing it up. I know, I know, some will argue that any publicity is good publicity, but I beg to differ. I think the Bennifer film Gigli is a case in point. Publicity did not help that film one bit.

However, I have been paying attention to the Dan Brown case, not because I like Brown or his novels, but because what it may mean for the rest of us writers. Brown has run into a number of lawsuits due to the success of The Da Vinci Code, including one by author Lewis Perdue who wrote The Da Vinci Legacy and Daughter of God, and another, which is currently being tried in London by Michael Baigent and Richard Leigh authors of the nonfiction study The Holy Blood and Holy Grail.

Ultimately it seems that everyone is going to make a great deal of money out of this in the end, but even if it is a stunt by one party, both parties, or Random House (both books are published by them, I believe), the outcome of this trial could profoundly affect the way novelists do research and use that research for their works.

I can accept Purdue’s complaint more than I can Baigent and Leigh’s accusation. For Purdue, his work of fiction compares closely, although I don’t believe close enough, with Brown’s novel. The similarities are stunning, but I don’t know if it’s near enough to be considered plagiarism.

Baigent and Leigh, on the other hand, wrote a study and published it as nonfiction, which leaves it out there for researchers to examine and novelists to plunder. I understand their plight: they did all this legwork concerning this controversial theory and Brown happened to make hundreds of millions of dollars off of it.

But if they win this case, this could introduce other salivating researchers who may want to go after the likes of Crichton to get their just due. This leaves writers in a quandary: how can we safely use research in our texts without bringing about our own doom through lucky success? If Brown didn’t make it as big as he did, would this lawsuit even be occurring? Probably not.

I believe that Brown used the information from Holy Blood, Holy Grail to supplement the plot of his book, but he did not “appropriate the structure” of the nonfiction study as the authors accuse. Obviously, the two books share similar elements, but using the research in the fiction arena is different than if Brown tried to pawn off the material as his own.

Or maybe he did.

What are your thoughts on this matter? Was the copyright of Holy Blood, Holy Grail breached, or did Brown use the materials from his research in a proper manner?

I wonder if this whole trial could have been avoided if he included a bibliography at the end of The Da Vinci Code. But I worry about the rest of us. If this bleeds over to the American courts eventually, could the use of research in novels change? Will publisher be forced to buy rights to use researched materials or information as they do with lyrics?

Where do Tamagotchi go when they die?

2006-03-02T18:25:00.000-05:00

My daughter bought a Tamagotchi Virtual Pet the other day and, although she took care of it daily, it died of unknown causes. What's really sad, beside the fact that she named it Eric, is that there is a memorial page saved on her Tamagotchi device all about Eric. Creepy.

She hatched a new one today after a short (I mean really short) crying bout and named this one Sarah.

We have plenty of virtual pets around the house besides her imaginary ones. We have a Robopet (interesting, but not that great), several computer games that are fairly cute (Petz5 -- this is really cute), Nintendogs for the Nintendo DS (which is absolutely amazing), and plenty of stuffed animals. She's allergic to cats, too young to take care of a real pet on her own (sometime I'll tell you about Tunafish, Mr. Cuddlewuddles, and Elephant, our ill-fated hamsters), and we tend to kill plenty of plants.

So, we compromise. My question is: where do the Tamagotchis go when they die? Where is poor Eric? I knew him well.

I Laughed So Hard I Cried...Really

2006-02-25T21:06:00.000-05:00

This from my good friend MacAllister Stone's blog.

Mac found this lovely slideshow while browsing some pages. The commentary on the 1974 Weight Watchers Recipe Cards made me laugh so hard I had to walk away from the computer to catch my breath.

This is a rare event for me. I feared a heart attack or stroke. But I survived and it made my night. Thanks Mac!

**Make sure to read the backstory and click the link at the bottom of the page to start the slide show. It starts off slow, but really gets rolling...

Suggestions?

2006-02-25T12:00:00.000-05:00

I'm currently reading American Gods by Neil Gaiman, which is quite good in terms of story and so-so in terms of writing. At times it reminds me of early King (you remember the days of 600+ page tomes, right?). I'm enjoying it because it has great character and story.

Books I've read recently in the past few months:

Stephen King, Cell (Not bad, not great. Reminds me of the Stand in some ways)
Brian Keene, City of the Dead (I'll be getting The Rising in the mail shortly. Out of order, but I liked it).
Walter Greatshell, Xombies (Not bad. Some good character, interesting concept. I want to know who Greatshell really is. Someone took a chance and his/her publisher said "we're not ruining your brand no matter how popular zombies are right now...")
Jack McDevitt, Seeker and Polaris (A Talent for War is also on its way).
Anne Frasier, Play Dead (It goes without saying that this was good. Spot on, well-edited, a page turner. I really loved the characters. I'll be getting more of these soon.)
Bentley Little, The Walking (Very good.)
JA Konrath, Whiskey Sour (Good book, smooth read.)

My reading has been zombie heavy lately, which may coincide with my purchase of Land of the Dead and Day of the Dead to round off my Romero collection. I normally don't read that much horror. I finished half a Patterson book and couldn't go on. I'm a little ways into Greg Bear's novel Darwin's Radio, which is good, but I haven't hit a groove where I can sit and read large chunks of it in one sitting.

So, I'm asking for suggestions. What have you read recently that you'd suggest? What was really good? My tastes vary, so I'm pretty open to anything. I like books with strong characters, interesting plots, and, at the very least, passable writing.

In other words, tell me about some good books you've read for which I should slap down my hard-earned coin.

Judge Me

2006-02-23T20:00:00.000-05:00

If you were going to judge me by the contents of my blog, what kind of fiction do you think I would write? What genre?

I still struggle with that sense of who I am and what I write.

So, what do you think? How would you label me?

My Johari Results...

2006-02-21T23:23:00.000-05:00

Friendly?

I'm a misanthrope by nature.

I guess I have to work on my image...

Arena

(known to self and others)

clever, intelligent, logical, observant, sensible

Blind Spot

(known only to others)

able, adaptable, calm, caring, cheerful, complex, confident, dependable, friendly, helpful, kind, knowledgeable, mature, modest, organised, patient, reflective, self-assertive, sympathetic, trustworthy, warm, wise, witty

Façade

(known only to self)

introverted

Unknown

(known to nobody)

accepting, bold, brave, dignified, energetic, extroverted, giving, happy, idealistic, independent, ingenious, loving, nervous, powerful, proud, quiet, relaxed, religious, responsive, searching, self-conscious, sentimental, shy, silly, spontaneous, tense

Dominant Traits

58% of people think that emeraldcite is friendly
83% of people agree that emeraldcite is intelligent

All Percentages

able (16%) accepting (0%) adaptable (8%) bold (0%) brave (0%) calm (16%) caring (8%) cheerful (8%) clever (8%) complex (16%) confident (8%) dependable (16%) dignified (0%) energetic (0%) extroverted (0%) friendly (58%) giving (0%) happy (0%) helpful (33%) idealistic (0%) independent (0%) ingenious (0%) intelligent (83%) introverted (0%) kind (25%) knowledgeable (16%) logical (33%) loving (0%) mature (8%) modest (8%) nervous (0%) observant (8%) organised (8%) patient (8%) powerful (0%) proud (0%) quiet (0%) reflective (33%) relaxed (0%) religious (0%) responsive (0%) searching (0%) self-assertive (8%) self-conscious (0%) sensible (16%) sentimental (0%) shy (0%) silly (0%) spontaneous (0%) sympathetic (16%) tense (0%) trustworthy (8%) warm (8%) wise (16%) witty (33%)

Created by the Interactive Johari Window on 22.2.2006, using data from 12 respondents.
You can make your own Johari Window, or view emeraldcite's full data.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes…Rememory, Ovid’s Metamorphoses, and Future Biblio-Archeology

2006-02-20T18:37:00.000-05:00

Time may change me
But I can’t trace time

--David Bowie, “Changes”

Toni Morrison in her novel Beloved coined the term “rememory.” This term’s basic principle purports that events experienced by one person at one time can be available to for experience by another person in another time. In other words, experiences are not just contained in the memory of one person, but in the cultural memory of an entire group.

This term resurfaced when I was teaching Ovid’s Metamorphoses to my World Literature class. Ovid attempts to demonstrate the changes people, gods, and cultures experience through various tales and stories from their religion, or to us Greek Mythology. He tells of Creation and a great Flood (sound familiar). He also explains the four great ages of man: the Golden Age, the Silver Age, the Bronze Age, and the Iron Age.

What I found so interesting about his explanation was how the four ages represented the shift of humankind from foragers to civilization. Would the Greeks have recognized this through study and retold the tale in terms of mythology, or is it so ingrained in the culture memory that Ovid rememories it? Possibly, Ovid’s cultural memory, the ghostly remembrance of cultural shift, resurfaces through his explanation and understanding of the Ages.

For example, the Golden Age is without seasons. Ovid describes,

People were unaggressive, and unanxious;

The years went by in peace. And Earth, untroubled,

Unharried by hoe or plowshare, brought forth all

That men had need for, and those men were happy,

Gathering berries from the mountain sides…

In the Silver Age, seasons were added, houses were built, and “the seeds of grain were planted […] and the oxen struggled /Groaning and laboring under the heavy yoke.” People have moved from being foragers who migrated with the season (demonstrating their rememoried sense of a season-less time) to small agricultural communities.

Naturally, we know what comes next in the Bronze Age. With all civilizations, overseas or even in our own history here in America, “dispositions / took on aggressive instincts, quick to arm / yet not entirely evil.” With more people, with the villages collecting more permanent residents, people began to fight over land and food.

Finally, the Iron Age is loosed and

[…] modesty and truth

and righteousness fled earth, and in their place

came trickery and slyness, plotting, swindling,

violence and the damned desire of having.

Men set sail and waged war. Ovid notes, that “precious metal” had become “The root of evil.” The accuracy of Ovid’s lines frightens me. He describes the rise and fall of countries and peoples elegantly. Did he see his verse as more than a retelling, or did he imbue his poetry with the rememory of his people?

My interest lies, then, in the future. What will American rememory be like? In two hundred years, when the printed book is sold in novelty shops and antique stores, what will scholars say about your work? What will biblio-archeologists who dig up your text suggest about the culture that spawned you?

Let Me Know...

2006-02-19T17:35:00.000-05:00

Man, I'm on this blogging thing today...

If I don't have your link over there to the right, drop me a line and I'll add your blog or site.

I'm pretty bad on keeping it up with my reading habits on my own, so a little nudge to say hey, where am I? I faithfully read your blog, you putz, and you don't have me linked over there. What're you thinking? Jerk. I'll add you right away.

Neat. Tell Me all about Me

2006-02-19T14:44:00.000-05:00

http://kevan.org/johari?name=emeraldcite

Yeah, this'll help with my self-image and self-esteem issues...

A Lesson from The Analects of Confucius

2006-02-19T10:24:00.000-05:00

As much as I enjoy politics, I try to keep them out of my blog. But, as I was teaching the Analects in class the other day, this passage struck me as being particularly apt for our current times (as well as those in the past). I won't expound on any of the details; I'll just let you judge for yourself how this applies.

1. Tsze-kung asked about government. The Master said, "The requisites of government are that there be sufficiency of food, sufficiency of military equipment, and the confidence of the people in their ruler."

2. Tsze-kung said, "If it cannot be helped, and one of these must be dispensed with, which of the three should be foregone first?" "The military equipment," said the Master.

3. Tsze-kung again asked, "If it cannot be helped, and one of the remaining two must be dispensed with, which of them should be foregone?" The Master answered, "Part with the food. From of old, death has been the lot of an men; but if the people have no faith in their rulers, there is no standing for the state."

American Idol, Robert Gregory Browne, and White Zinfandel Dreams

2006-02-17T23:10:00.000-05:00

Only in my own sick, depraved world would these three topics intertwine; yet, here they are. I was reading a post at Robert Gregory Browne’s blog concerning a writer’s measure of confidence when it comes to the quality of their text. He pondered the unwritten rule that writers who dislike their own work are of a higher quality than those who are confident that their work is good.

This spurred me to thinking as I sipped my White Zinfandel. At what point does a writer realize that they are any good. I think one of my greatest fears is that I will be like many of those who auditioned on American Idol this season: I will not be able to recognize that I lack any of the necessary skills to be a high quality writer (here you can insert what is meant by “high quality.” I choose to leave that open to debate).

At what point do I see that maybe I’m not cut out for writing? Maybe a better question concerns whether I would be able to recognize this at all. I like to think that I am at least adequate with my use of words, but in the marketplace, that is not enough.

Do I capture character and story? How about landscape? Is there growth? I think there is, but thinking is not enough. Some days I hate my writing and would be content with deleting it all. Other days I feel that I’m making real progress, that my writing can be snappy.

In the end, am I a tone-deaf singer trying to audition like I could be a star? Or am I the insecure artist just trying to make it in a tough world?

When did you realize that you were good enough? When did you realize that you had quality?

I learned to juggle yesterday...

2006-02-13T19:56:00.000-05:00

Yup. Learned to juggle. And I'm damned proud of it.

Despite being in the high forties yesterday (which is really, really cold to you northern folks), we went to a Medieval Faire in Sarasota. It was excellent besides the biting cold and wind. We bundled up the best we could considering our new sub-tropic clothing stocks we've been accumulating since we arrived. We ended up only staying for about four hours, but it was a blast (it was my first Medieval Faire).

I enjoyed the jousting, the street performers, and the drunken wenches. We didn't dress up, but we picked up a few items (spending a good bit of hard-earned cash, I might add) that we can wear to the next one. I won't be decked out in full regalia quite yet, but I felt very comfortable there. In fact, after about fifteen minutes, I was ready to buy myself a Third Crusade Cruciform sword replica just so I could defend myself in the case of thieves.

Some folks who sold juggling items were giving free lessons on how to juggle. I once tried this when I was ten, but gave up soon after. But I figured it out rather quickly this time and I've been practicing everyday since Sunday. Okay, I know that's only one day, but I've gotten pretty good. I'm a sucker for praise, what can I tell you? They told me I was doing well, which I soaked up (I really need external stimulation) and bought three juggling balls to use at home. My daughter has been practicing two, but hasn't yet moved past the first ball. Hand-eye coordination isn't her strong point, but she's quite the artist.

There was another neat booth, and the only one of its kind, that dealt in magic. I saw a couple of neat sets of hand painted stone runes, but none that were bone. The crafts were, ultimately, the best part of the faire. Overall, it was an awesome day.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

And, although mostly disconnected from this post, here is a great site selling ancient artifacts called Fort Knox Antiquities. If anyone is in a giving mood, I'll take the Mesopotamian Cuneiform Tablet featured here.

There are some really cool things on this site.

Five Weird Habits -- Scary, really.

2006-02-13T16:18:00.000-05:00

Five Weird Habits – tagged by September Skies

The Rules: The first player of this game starts with the topic “five weird habits” and people who get tagged need to write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don’t forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal that says “You have been tagged” (assuming they take comments) and tell them to read yours.

1. Sometimes, I will take a warm shower or bath so I can "just think." I vaguely remember some study that showed hot showers to stimulate thinking, but that's not why. I tend to be a bit of a day-dreamer, so this is really some "me" time.

2. Everytime I talk about politics, I usually finish with the phrase "I hate politics," even though I really do love to discuss them.

3. When faced with a challenge, I will practice it until I get better than everyone around me, or at least try to... My wife finds that this trait makes it difficult to beat me at games when I set my heart to winning. I will figure out the trick. I will crush my opponents. (I usually lose the first few times, but then I enter my very steep learning curve.)

4. I tend to psychoanalyze my students during class. Sometimes, they think this is funny. Sometimes, not.

5. I need noise. If I don't have some kind of background noise, I go kinda nutty. I like movies or music, but silence has become far too disturbing.

I'm not going to tag anyone in particular, but will leave you all to some self-taggery!

...

2006-02-04T23:35:00.000-05:00

I plead the fifth...

...of vodka!

Sick. I'll be back soon. I'm tired of getting colds...

[sniffle sniffle]

Refreshing Rejection

2006-01-27T21:33:00.000-05:00

Writers deal with rejection all the time. In fact, my life is a story of rejection and redemption. No problem, so the story goes with everyone else.

I was getting ready to put away the manuscript from my first novel attempt, slide it under the bed to let it collect dust for a few years before pulling it out again to reminisce about how naïve I was when I was a young’un.

Well, I felt I had to earn my keep and amass some rejections. I needed to get a taste of it before finishing up my next project and exposing myself to the world of publishing again. It’s like building calluses in martial arts. There’s no easy way to do it other than to do it. It’s not fun, but it’s necessary. If you don’t build up the skin on your feet and knuckles, you’re just going to injure yourself later.

So, I sent out some queries for this novel, a quirky little absurdist literary thing. In some ways I’m proud of it, in others I’d rather disconnect and move on; but, I figured I’d give this little brick of #20 white a chance.

I’m a believer in top-down attempts: first try the agents you’d love to have because they’re at a big deal-making agency, then work your way down. I did my research, looked for agents that seemed to like novels similar to mine, and I sent out some letters.

I mostly received passes on my query, but I had one request. And it was a biggie. An agent at William Morris wanted to see the manuscript. Yeah, I was shocked too.

Then the holidays came and it was three months with no reply. No biggie. I’m a patient person, I have a seven-year-old. I figured I’d tack on an extra month or so before I sent a follow-up.

Well, today I received a letter in the mail.

Rejection.

I’m not surprised, mind you. I expected the agent to reject the manuscript, but I was surprised with the letter itself. It is personal and kind. It had my name, my novel title, and some details about the story that you’d get only if you read some of it. It also contained some complements and, most importantly, it contained a reason for rejection.

Sure, the agent’s assistant probably put the letter together, but it’s nice to see something more than a photocopied thanks for submitting, get out of the way.

I’m not picky about rejection. I can take a simple no thanks without a reason because I know that if they don’t want it, it didn’t strike them as something they would buy off the shelf or would fit their current needs. I can take a you suck rejection too, probably, but I haven’t received a rude one yet.

In the end, it’s refreshing to see that there are still some agents out there, even at the big guns agencies, that haven’t started treating publishing like factory work. I don’t blame the industry. There’s quite a bit of junk out there (probably mine included…;D ), but as I said, it’s just a bit refreshing.

Of Faith, Text, and (Mis)Understanding

2006-01-21T23:04:00.000-05:00

I’m currently teaching a course in World Literature to high school seniors. It’s a college course offered at their high school, and it is, by far, one of the best classes I have ever instructed. This is not because of the material, but the wonderful intellectual debate that occurs which is so rare in the over-stuffed classrooms of today (ask me about class size limitations some day, and I’ll tell you all about them).

In our anthology, there are excerpts from a numerous religious texts, such as the King James Version of the Bible and the Koran. This is great. No, I really mean that. So we have read the epic of Gilgamesh, including the eerily familiar flood narrative, and we are submerged in the text of Genesis.

I am teaching a literature course in a school that is at least an hour from any metropolitan area, that is fairly well-off in terms of finances, but where the people have done well not through education, but working with their hands. This is not to say that working with one’s hands is not a good, solid career that produces strong family values or fosters interesting intellectual discussion, but it creates a student body that grew up with privilege without the emphasis on the necessity of education.

However, since this course is a sanctioned by the college I don’t feel the same pressure about teaching lessons on religious texts that focus on the historical, societal, and anthropological aspects. The problem then arises: how does one teach the bible, or, for that matter, any religious narrative without seeming as if one has an agenda one way or the other.

Let me preface the rest of this with a caveat: I am not a man of faith. I grew up Catholic, but I claim no denomination now. I guess I would say that I keep an open mind with a healthy sense of skepticism. So, truthfully, I have no real agenda, as I rarely ever do other than to educate or stir students to active thinking. I teach my students to think for themselves, to question everything.

The first question I asked my students was a voluntary one: “how many of you believe that the bible is literal truth?” This question was followed by “how many of you believe that the bible is metaphorical truth?” (Looking back, it may seem that I give no option for those who do not believe the bible represents truth; however, I hoped to allow abstention from the question to represent a noncommittal answer that would not single anyone out. I wanted to avoid an all-out debate on the existence of God because for the intents of our studies, that is an irrelevancy).

Keep in mind that the idea of “truth” varies and my students are aware of that dicey terminology and its use in the classroom. It turns out that in a class of sixteen (I know! Such a great class size and so conducive to active learning!) about half or more believe that the bible is literal while the other half of the class view it as metaphorical.

The results, then, created a real challenge for me as we attempted to navigate the text of the excerpts of Genesis. How do I discuss a touchy subject, ask engaging and difficult philosophical questions, and not offend everyone?

On the first day, we discussed the Creation and the Fall. We touched on some of the basic debates of omnipotence and free will, that the snake was never named, etc. Though some important points were raised, it wasn’t until we discussed the first murder that I hit a major snag.

After some research, I found that I struck upon a common question for those who have trouble establishing God’s motives in Genesis: why did God reject Cain’s sacrifice and accept Abel’s?

Obviously, this rejection led to the first murder. Of course, there are a number of extrapolations concerning why Cain killed Abel. The ultimate lesson is also clear, but one very important lesson for early civilized man still remains: how does one please God?

Here is the actual Genesis text taken from the King James Version that we studied in class:

1And Adam knew Eve his wife; and she conceived, and bare Cain, and said, I have gotten a man from the LORD.

2And she again bare his brother Abel. And Abel was a keeper of sheep, but Cain was a tiller of the ground.

3And in process of time it came to pass, that Cain brought of the fruit of the ground an offering unto the LORD.

4And Abel, he also brought of the firstlings of his flock and of the fat thereof. And the LORD had respect unto Abel and to his offering:

5But unto Cain and to his offering he had not respect. And Cain was very wroth, and his countenance fell. (Genesis 4:1-5)

As a class, we wondered if something was wrong with Cain’s sacrifice. We also discussed the possibility that the first murder was a setup, set in motion by God in an “the ends justify the means” object lesson for future generations. However, this offers us the dilemma that a life in the future is worth more than a life in the past, which detracts from the all-just aspect of God.

But there is no indication that Cain did anything wrong. One of the explanations for this in the various commentaries I’ve read on the subject matter cite Hebrews 11:4 as the solution.

By faith Abel offered unto God a more excellent sacrifice than Cain, by which he obtained witness that he was righteous, God testifying of his gifts: and by it he being dead yet speaketh.

Yet, if ones looks at the context of this chapter in Hebrews, the chapter aims to cast all events in light of faith, and this is an interpretation of the actions. Of course Cain’s sacrifice wasn’t good enough…God didn’t like it.

So circular logic ensues and there still is no explanation, just as there is no explanation for the death of Job’s servants when God is trying to prove to Satan that Job is righteous beyond transgression.

Now, if one looks at the society of the time, when peoples were shifting from tribal culture to citied culture, one can see how older pagan beliefs and servant property pervades these early texts. The appeasement of gods and deities were arbitrary, sometimes without reason; but, here in Genesis, shouldn’t we see the fruition of God’s omnipotence in avoiding the first murder?

So, I began my quest for the missing information. There had to be a reason for God rejecting Cain’s sacrifice.

I discussed with my class the absence of source texts and the two-millennium-long telephone game the bible has been involved in…copies of copies of copies. This proposed a problem. Most of the reasons given for the whole situation comes from interpretation. And there are many.

Some refer to Hebrews, as I mentioned before.

Others say that the skins that covered Adam and Eve were the skins from the first sacrifice. Thus, Cain should have known that God wanted a blood sacrifice. Of course, another dilemma surfaces. If this is true, then Cain got the short end of the stick from the beginning because he tilled the soil. He brought from what his hands had made. So his lot in life wasn’t good enough?

Then I found this explanation:

"The occasion of the marking this offering is thus related, according to the common tradition in the East. Each of them being born with a twin-sister, when they were grown up, Adam, by God's direction, ordered Cain to marry Abel's twin-sister and Abel to marry Cain's; (for it being the common opinion that marriages ought not to be had in the nearest degrees of consanguinity, since they must necessarily marry their sister, it seemed reasonable to suppose they ought to take those of the remoter degree;) but this Cain refusing to agree to, because his own sister was the handsomest, Adam ordered them to make their offerings to God, thereby referring the dispute to His determination. The commentators say Cain's offering was a sheaf of the worst of his corn, but Abel's a fat lamb of the best of his flock. (Hughe's Dictionary of Islam, p. 2, quoting Sale's Koran, I., p.122)

But now we’re talking about versions of this story from different faiths, which would only help validate the similarities between the Gilgamesh story and the Flood story of Genesis.

So here I am, with all these explanations and no better off than I was before. It is no wonder that so many wars have been fought, so many arguments and breaks in various churches throughout the years of faith. There are too many discrepancies and too many interpretations.

I tried to help my students understand. For those who rely on faith, thinking about these problems can only make their belief stronger. For those who doubt, this may only enhance their argument against a supreme being, or at least one that is omnipotent.

Perhaps God is mysterious. That seems to be a prevalent explanation when a conclusion cannot be drawn from the materials at hand.

Maybe, God is just too mysterious for me.

Congratulations if you made it to the end of this little ditty. If you have any thoughts, please share them. I’d really like to know why Cain’s sacrifice was rejected. My degrees in English trained me to be a close reader, to question the texts for understanding. My first inclination after reading the first murder story was to sympathize with Cain for being set up by God. He seemed like an unwitting pawn in some larger story…

I think I could go on forever just on this one moment…

The Next Post

2006-01-20T22:06:00.000-05:00

Ooo, boy. The next post is going to be a doozy. Not only will it be long, it might inflame some sensibilities.

I can't wait.

Wasteland

2006-01-18T19:44:00.000-05:00

Today, I've reached the dangerous wasteland on the dark side of my twenties, where it remains forever black in tidal lock with thirty.

I don't like it here. There are no new milestones in age after this. Twenty-one meant I could drink and twenty-five meant that my insurance premiums dipped. I think twenty-six means no chance of getting drafted.

From here on out, it's all downhill. I'm sledding down a sheet of ice toward the great chasm of oblivion.

When did birthdays start to suck?

Digging Deep into the Archive

2006-01-15T12:11:00.000-05:00

better luck next time. From 12 April 2004.

Back on livejournal, I was tracking my employment progress. I had an interview for a job at a community college in Virginia. I was waiting for a phone call or an email on the status of my interview. I hadn't received word yet, but I was expecting the worst.

I'm currently teaching in Florida, so you can figure out the end to that story.

So, the rules for this meme:

1. go to your archive
2. find the 23rd post
3. find the 5th sentence (I acutally used the fourth sentence since there was no fifth sentence)
4. post the text of the sentence in a blog entry along with these instruction
5. tag other people -- I tag Ray and Paprikapink

AWMondayMemes

Syllabacide

2006-01-10T15:05:00.000-05:00

Syllabacide

Death by self-inflicted overindulgence of syllables.

Yeah. It's a cool word. I made it up.

Dork Tip #753

2006-01-02T20:59:00.000-05:00

It is a well-known fact that faced books in a bookstore sell better.

What is a faced book? I'm glad you asked.

As you may have noted on your many, many adventures in your local hole-in-the-wall bookstore or latte-fueled megastore, there are too many books these days for the covers to face the consumer. There have been numerous informal studies (the links elude me now) that show that most consumers make a purchase based more on the cover of a book than the content.

So, Dork Tip #753 is find your favorite authors and make sure their covers face out. I do.

It'll ruffle the feathers of any bookstore employee, but it may just help your favorite author sell.

Finding an Identity when You’re a Natural Born Liar: Labels

2005-12-31T15:25:00.000-05:00

I hate them. Sticky things, especially trying to get the fuckers off a DVD case without damaging the cover. But they won’t let go. I just want to watch my movie.

In high school, I had labels. I’ve been labeled a geek, a nerd, a skater, a hippy, among other things. Damn it, what the hell am I?

“Hey, hippy,” a broad-shouldered football player to whom I relegated the label “jock” said.

I continued eating my lunch.

“Hey, hippy.”

A tater tot flew in my direction, bounced on the table twice, before hitting my Nirvana T-shirt.

I looked up.

“Get me a drink.” He and his jock friends laughed.

“I’m not a hippy.”

“You have long hair.”

“But I’m not a hippy.”

“Hippies have long hair.”

I remembered those stupid problems on the SATs, the ones that fooled you into thinking logically in an alternate history reality.

If all Widgets are Wadgets and all Wadgets are Idgits, then all Widgets are Idigits. Is this statement true or false?

Ummm… Yeah, in a land where Widgets, Wadgets, and Idgits all exists, there’s a possibility.

So, back to the didactic tale:

“Just because I have long hair doesn’t mean that I smoke pot, love nature, abhor showers or listen to the Grateful Dead.” I pointed to my T-shirt. “I skate, I get hurt, I play guitar, and I have long hair. I’m a skater.”

“What?”

“I’m a skater. Get your labels right.” I picked up my little corrugated cup of ketchup, threw it at him covering his white shirt with red dye #5 and high fructose corn syrup, and ran out of the cafeteria.

I hate them. The labels, I mean.

I’ve always wanted to be a writer, at least since eight grade. Before that, I wanted to be a biochemist. Big change.

Here I am again, like in High School, hating labels but searching for one. What kind of writer am I? I know that, for marketing purposes, I can’t sell a first novel that’s mystery, a second that’s scifi, and a third that’s literary. I need a label. Am I a thriller writer? A mystery writer? A literary fiction writer?

As a writer, I detest this. Nevertheless, it seems the industry thrives on labels. Not that I blame the industry.

I have to admit, when I go to a bookstore, I browse books by sections. I look for labels. I have expectations. When I buy a novel by a particular author and I love that novel, I look to that writer for more of the same. For example, I really enjoy scifi with a xenoarcheological twist, but it's hard to find. McDevitt's my favorite. Allen Steele does some as well. So when I go to these authors, I have expect them to produce more of what I like.

As a consumer, I want subcategorizations that help me find what I crave; but, as a writer, I discover that labels limit. Why not have a Nazi Vampire Space Multicultural Romance followed by an International Literary Thriller Comedy with Nazi aliens?

I search for my label. Who am I? What do I write? Where would I fit in on the shelf and what would consumers expect of me?

In all the sage-like advice on the web for wannabe writers (hell, another label!), I come across this one often: Write what you like to read.

Now, I’m sure that I’m not as unique as I would love to be, and I’ll assume that most people read across the genres. I love mysteries, scifi, and literary fiction. I love horror, thrillers, and mainstream. My favorite writers do not fall in any one category, and they barely have anything in common.

So what do I do? Write what I know.

Hell, I like jeopardy, so I fancy I know quite a bit (that’s genuine writer’s ego there, folks). But, I would be frightened if most writers actually knew too much about their subjects (think horror and international spy thrillers). So, I take the familiar, surround it with pizzazz, and supplement what I don’t know with research. Not, too much though, just a pinch.

Yet, I can’t label myself.

Here I am, pining for my label and never satiated.

Jeez...Haven't Updated in So Long!

2005-12-26T19:16:00.000-05:00

It's been awhile. Far too long, perhaps.

I hope everyone had a great and safe holiday! I've been catching up on my reading; but, at least I'm not grading. :)

I'll put up something meaningful soon, I'm sure. Watched quite a few movies lately, including The Chronicles of Narnia, The 40-Year-Old Virgin, and Undead (an Australian horror/scifi yarn).

I'm currently reading Anne Frasier's Play Dead and Greg Bear's Darwin's Radio. Both are very good. I'll elucidate upon completion.

My wife recommends Neil Gaiman's American Gods and that's also on my list.

Caf-fiend

2005-12-17T22:28:00.000-05:00

I will share with you my source of coveted caffeinated beverages. Cofee Bean Direct.

I'm an Earl Grey drinker, myself. If you don't think two pounds of loose tea is quite a bit, you haven't ever seen two pounds of loose tea. It lasted me, or will last me, about three months. I drink at least a pot of tea a day (about four cups), sometimes more.

They also sell tea and coffee beans. I think they even sell 25 pound bags of beans. That is impressive for you obsessive coffee drinkers. Too hard on me stomach, I tell ya.

These are the best prices I've seen on bulk beverages. I plan on ordering another two pounds presently. If you have a better, cheaper source, let me know. I'm a mad tea drinker.

RIP Funnyman

2005-12-10T20:12:00.000-05:00

It's a sad day for comedy as a true phenom passes. I grew up with Pryor's humor, maybe not the best choice for an 8-year-old, but what the hell...

I just purchased a copy of Brewster's Millions the other day remembering how funny the movie was for me.

If you don't own a copy of a Pryor movie, go rent one. You'll feel better for it. Laughing soothes the soul.

Ten Most Poignant Moments in Horror History Meme

2005-12-07T22:24:00.000-05:00

1. The Tar Man from Return of the Living Dead, a film I watched at the tender age of ten or eleven, scared the shit out of me. The frightening longing for brains, the movements of his broken and disintegrating body, the emaciated, candid rotting of the face, all have stuck with me throughout my horror memory.

2. The end of Stephen King’s (writing as Richard Bachman) The Long Walk. It’s not slash. It’s not teen. It’s straight suffering.

3. The scene in the original Frankenstein when Dr. Frankenstein calls out “Now I know what it is like to be God!” ties with the scene when the monster throws the little girl into the river. This one’s kind of cheating, but I don’t care. They are both good scenes.

4. When the lawyer bites the dust in the remake of Thirteen Ghosts. Excellent horror film. Amazing visual effect.

5. The “Needle Scene” from Saw II. Besides my personal enmity for needles, this scene is one of the few horror moments that almost made me turn away. That is a feat.

6. I’m a huge fan of the Hellraiser series. My most memorable moment occurs in Hellbound: Hellraiser II when Pinhead threatens Kirstie with the great line: “Trick us again child and your suffering will be legendary even in hell.” Have to hang that one up in my classroom.

7. Although I’m a fan of the Nightmare on Elm Street series and all of its camp, I find that the most terrifying scenes directed by Craven are from his first film The Last House on the Left. This is one of the most disturbing movies I have ever scene. It’s sadistic without any Hollywood fluff. The urination/rape scene is distressing and sad. It feels like real fear and suffering.

8. I’m trying to recall one scene from Seven that really sticks out, but have trouble pinpointing just one good moment. I really like the moral dilemma at the end of the film. The exchange between Kevin Spacey and Brad Pitt is so well done that I can still imagine the facial expressions, the gun tilting limply in Pitt’s hand as realization dawns on him, and his final decision. Very striking.

9. When the zombies rip into someone at the end of Day of the Dead and I know that they are eating real guts, although from cow, you come to the conclusion that some would do anything for art, or a lousy t-shirt. Hollywood does that to people.

10. The final scene in the Night of the Living Dead. You know the one I’m talking about. If you don’t, buy it. Hell, download it. It’s in the public domain.

Sadly, I couldn’t find room for some of my other favorites, including scenes from Dawn of the Dead, (the original and the very well-done remake), House of a 1000 Corpses Rob Zombie’s homage to late seventies / early eighties slasher flicks, or any of my favorite eighties horror involving bad special effects, bad acting, and horrible plots (especially Killer Klowns from Outer Space). My daughter loves that one.

I tag Joanne. Anyone else want in?

Erin Samiloglu's Disconnection

2005-12-06T21:57:00.000-05:00

Samiloglu, Erin. Disconnection. Medallion Press. 368 pp. $6.99.

Disconnection, Erin Samiloglu’s supernatural thriller about a young girl and jaded detective and their involvement in serial killings taking place in New Orleans, poses an interesting premise, offers a strong sense of place, but lacks a strong thread that pulls it all together.

Disconnection’s strength lies in the interesting cast of characters including the hemorrhoid-plagued detective Lewis Kline and the strong-will, pyrophobic Sela Warren. Kline, debating a move out of the crime-ridden city of New Orleans and battling his hemorrhoid problem, tracks the Fishhook murders, hoping to find out who is brutally drowning and branding women from the city. Sela, on the other hand, is dragged into the whole debacle when she finds a cell phone on the floor of a club she was goaded into attending by her misdirected friend. This phone provides her an interesting connection to one of the Fishhook victims. The mystery unwinds from here, weaving in and out of the New Orleans landscape, delving into its sordid, occult past, and concluding with a chilling, mad dash for sanity.

Overall, the intrigue is well done, although the supernatural aspect is not really solidified early enough. Samiloglu attempts to keep the reader in the dark for some time, but never sheds enough light to make the path clear. Some themes and tropes that should have been stronger flagged. A number of strong thematic elements pervaded the text, such as the fire/water theme and the disconnection/phone theme, but never materialized into their potential. I think that this novel could have benefited from more editing. Although smaller presses offer more author-friendly services, this is a case where a little direction could have really strengthened this novel into an impressive tale of paranormal suspense.

I might give Samiloglu another chance with her next book, granted that the subject seems interesting. I think with a little work in the craft will go a long way for Samiloglu. Maybe a little more editorial direction is in order as well, but I wouldn’t ask for my money back. The plot was interesting, the characters real, and the landscape fairly genuine. Not bad for a first novel.

Okay, this is dorky.

2005-12-02T21:29:00.000-05:00

I responded to a post on a forum about what character I would choose to be from a film.

Here was my response:

Darth Vader, High School Teacher

in

A Disturbance in the Classroom

Mr. Vader, or as the students affectionately called him Mr. V, watched as a paper airplane drifted across the room. He didn't have to ask who did it, he already knew. There was a disturbance in the force.

Mr. V stood, the top of his helmet bumping an origami swan dangling from the ceiling and setting it into motion. It swung back and forth as Mr. V approached the third row nearest to the door.

He scanned the students, his immense height towering over them. Suzy's pencil snapped as she furiously tried to write. Jacob felt a disturbance in his pants as warm liquid streamed down his leg.

Johnny brushed his long hair over his eyes and sunk into his seat.

"I find your lack of respect disturbing," Mr. V said as he lifted his hand and squeeze the air between his fingers.

Johnny tugged at the neck of his shirt, then gripped his throat. His eyes bulged as he attempted to say spit out his words.

"Apology accepted," Mr. V said as he returned to his desk. He sat back down and a silence filled the room.

Everyone listened as Johnny gasped for breath. Mr. V had let him live. But only because Mr. Vader hated parent conferences.

I've Been Shot! No, Tagged!

2005-12-02T19:49:00.000-05:00

Mary Louisa tagged me for a book meme. You list 15 facts and personal preferences about books. I'm a meme virgin. This is hard to admit, but I am. Really, it's not because I can't get memed, it's just that I'm saving myself. Yeah. That's it.

Okay. I guess I have to do these fifteen facts. I don't know if anyone will want to talk to me after this...Maybe I'm weird.

1. I love the smell of a place where books have been for a long, long time.

2. I once tried to make a secret compartment in book by gluing the pages together and cutting out the centers. It didn't work. Being the bibliophile that I am, I mourn the loss of that book to this day. Did I mention that this was fifteen years ago?

3. I love hard covers if they are not the size of a cinderblock. If I can steal the tires off a car and prop it up using your hardcover, it's too long and uncomfortable to read as a hardcover. It's my fault. I have small hands.

4. I like long books.

5. I have a very large collection of books. I was an English major in college. My shelves often go three books deep. Someday when I settle permanently, maybe I'll buy more shelves.

6. I have eclectic taste in books. My favorite authors include, but are not limited to, Michael Chabon, Stephen King, James Joyce, Jack McDevitt, Vladimir Nabokov, and Allen Steele. There are others, but I can't think of them. I anticipate adding Anne Frasier, J. A. Konrath, Robert Gregory Browne, and Mary Louisa to this list of books I buy without reading the backs all because I like their blogs.

7. When I was younger (maybe twelve), I wrote a story about America bringing back dinosaurs in order to use them for war. I was disappointed to find out that Michael Crichton did it first. I would have sued him, but he could have afforded better lawyers than me.

8. I love rare books. I have a first edition of Faulkner’s Light in August, a signed edition of poetry by Ogden Nash, several very old books with beautiful bindings, two volumes of Kipling’s work done in red leather with swastikas on the covers. Of course, in this case it is the Indian symbol for luck and is reversed from the Nazi emblem. It’s still weird.

9. I read several books simultaneously. I’m usually in the midst of at least three novels at any one time. I have no trouble keeping them separate and picking up where I left off.

10. I’m a painfully slow reader. This may have to do with #9. Although I read slowly, I have a very good memory. I tend to remember minute details and where they were in the book.

11. My wife and I spend at least $100 on books a month. That’s with her discount from the store.

12. Our idea of family fun is walking around a bookstore browsing for several hours on the weekend.

13. My daughter is six but can read on the seventh grade level. Even though she’s in gifted, her teacher insists on every reading in her grade level. That’s like the librarian forcing you to read See Spot Run when you have no problem reading James Joyce.

14. Cracked spines drive me nuts. I hate it when books fall apart.

15. I tend to read books more than once. I’ve read Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man at least five or six times. I’ve read The White Hotel at least three. Stephen King’s first three books of the Dark Tower series at least four or five times each. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.

Phew!

I tag Dawno and Ray!

Chicken Little

2005-12-01T22:33:00.000-05:00

I was surprised. This film is hilarious, mature, and adorable. I don't know what to really say about it. For the fifteen minutes before the film started, I told my daughter and wife that we should've went to see Harry Potter again. But, I'm really glad that we saw Chicken Little.

The characters and relationships were simply amazing, the humor and dialogue were spot on, and the animation was spectacular. It's a bit off color, but that's what makes it so great.

What I think was so profound was the relationship between Chicken Little and his single, widowed father. It was a complex relationship and there was quite a bit of psychology involved.

I laughed out loud at least every five minutes, and I rarely ever laugh out loud if I can help it. Go see it. You'll never know what's behind the mystery of the falling sky if you don't. (And if that doesn't entice you, at least you'll find out what made me laugh every five minutes. Fish Out of Water was the best.)

Prophecy

2005-11-28T23:17:00.000-05:00

In the Queue for Review:
1. Erin Samiloglu, Disconnection
2. Brian Keene, City of the Dead
3. Jack McDevitt, Seeker
4. J. A. Konrath, Whisky Sour

Reading List:
1. Greg Bear, Darwin’s Radio
2. Anne Frasier, Play Dead
3. Jack McDevitt, Polaris
4. Allen Steele, Coyote Rising
5. Michael Chabon, The Final Solution

One Little Moment

2005-11-27T15:29:00.000-05:00

Sometimes in films and books, there is that one little moment that seems to mold a mundane, expected, and overall predictable narrative into something explosive, exciting, and somehow new. In Saw II, there is this moment.

As expected, Saw II utilizes disturbing methods of torture and kills off quite a few people. Standard horror fare. The storyline seemed worn and most of what happened I could see coming a mile away. This is the trouble with being a horror fan: how do you see past the same old storylines? Well, when it has a narrative twist.

What occurred, and I’m not even sure if on a theoretical level it was meant to turn out the way that it did, made me rethink the entire movie experience. Saw II suddenly became exciting in the last twenty or thirty minutes when I realized how the story was being disseminated. I know the event was meant to be one turn, a surprise to make you gasp and scream out Oh no! But in reality, it was something more mature that interested me, the implication of how to challenge the audience with strong storytelling, which is a rarity these days.

We’re all entertained out.

Saw II has everything you’d expect: the bad guy, the traps, the twisted moral philosophy, but the one thing I didn’t expect was a well-woven narrative.

If you haven’t seen it, go. This one moment is well worth it. If you have seen it and you’re not sure what I’m talking about, I’ll give you a hint: pause and think about it.

It was the Fight Club moment, the Planet of the Apes moment, where the frame of reference is revealed.

Overall, I’d say that it was a fairly good horror experience. It made me cringe and it surprised me, but not with the final twists. Those I expected.

But, it was that one little moment that made the whole movie worthwhile.

Maybe when it hits video, I’ll talk about why that particular twist is so grand, but I’d hate to spoil it. It might be the greatest redeeming factor of the movie.

Medallion Press and Book Cover Design

2005-11-22T22:31:00.000-05:00

I have a book I'm going to review from Medallion Press (actually, I have two, but have only read one).

So that I can concentrate on talking about the book in the actual review, I want to make a few comments about the press itself.

I am in love with the covers of their books. Their art department really put exceptional effort into the design of their covers; they are striking, evocative, and spectacular. Every time I see their books on the shelf (and I am one to incessantly browse bookstore shelves for my next pick rather than rely on word of mouth...I really want to go against the flow), I stop and pick it up, even if it doesn't spark my interest, I'm half-tempted to buy it.

Here are a few favorites:

Django Wexler's covers are fantastic. The colors are subdued, but stand out compared to the other dreck and worn ideas. Sadly, covers tend to sell books that do not get picked up via word-of-mouth, name recognition, or bestsellerdom. It's quite amazing the use of design.

I also like Wolfe and Armstrong's covers, which for horror and suspense fans, are particularly attractive. I wouldn't be surprised if the design department is someday wooed away or copied in some manner. Now, I can't speak about across-the-board content of these novels, but I can say that by the looks of things, Medallion Press will rip out your eyes and hand them to you.

And they will be happy eyes.

2005-11-21T16:21:00.000-05:00

Yes, it's a real word!

copacetic

One entry found for copacetic. Main Entry: co·pa·cet·ic
Variant(s): or co·pe·set·ic also co·pa·set·ic /"kO-p&-'se-tik/
Function: adjective
Etymology: origin unknown
: very satisfactory

www.m-w.com

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

2005-11-20T22:35:00.000-05:00

I'll keep my reveiw short and sweet.

Saw Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. It was the best two and a half hours of my life. Granted, I spend most of my life working, grading, and doing some semblance of teaching, I guess this doesn't say much, but, indeed, it was a fine film.

Goblet, more so than the previous three films, captured all the pitfalls and traps of youth, including the trial by fire that is adolescence. It has a nice pacing, a heathly balance between action and character development, and, most of all, a turn toward the darker side of the wizarding world.

It was by far the most mature film, not only in subject matter, but in style and story, two of the most important elements beyond the character connection with the audience. I will certainly be first in line to by it on DVD as soon as it comes out. I would see it in theatres if only it wouldn't cost me an arm and a leg which not even a spell could regrow.

blog

2004-05-13T18:33:00.000-04:00

blog blog blog.