Author: Don

Reading is Fundamental

I’ve had my head up my seekrit nonfiction work-in-progress this week, so most of my reading has been devoted to that.  But, I’ve resolved to make room for the fiction.  I tried to make time for the rest of Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet 22, but I ended up two stories shy. 

“Vinegar and Brown Paper” by Becca De La Rosa.  I thought this piece was going to be completely predictable, if quirky, until about halfway through.  I love it whenever a story takes me by surprise.  4 out of 5.

“Self Story” by Carol Emshwiller.  You know why they say writers should never write stories about being a writer?  It’s because you won’t write one as good as this. 5 out of 5.

“Snowdrops” by Alex Dally MacFarlane.  Very nice wintry fairy tale.  5 out of 5.

“The Honeymoon Suite” by Jodi Lynn Villers. Great flash fiction piece!  5 out of 5.

“To a Child Who Is Still a FAQ” by Miriam Allred.  A touch too experimental for me.  3 out of 5.

I’m sure I’ll finish the ‘zine this week.  After that, I dunno… maybe some of Ted Chiang’s Stories of Your Life and Others and a bit of Karen Joy Fowler’s What I Didn’t See.

“Maltz! Jol yIchu’!”

I spent an evening with a Klingon (not Maltz) and a Sagan!  Actor/writer J.G. Hertzler (aka Klingon General Martok on ST:DS9, and Ithaca resident apparently) and author Nick Sagan (The Idlewild trilogy) spoke at a local Science Cabaret presentation.


It’s a sad picture, I know.  I didn’t have the best vantage point, which was my own fault.  Speaking briefly with Hertzler afterward, he was surprised with the standing-room-only turnout.  I wasn’t.

The main focus was on Star Trek and its reach.  I wasn’t disappointed by any means, but somehow I expected something a touch more than a panel I could find at almost any convention I’ve attended.  Still, Sagan (whom I’ve seen speak before) and Hertzler were very engaging and open.  I got to talk bat’leths with Hertzler afterward, and told him a little bit about the Ithaca thing of people randomly knitting in audiences.

I even managed to sneak in a question during the Q&A!  I mentioned the huge spate of sci-fi TV shows since Trek, none of which had an influence that even came close.  I wondered, both of them being well-versed in sci-fi literature and television, if they had an inkling what a future sci-fi show would have to do to attain that.

They didn’t know.  To be fair, it’s a difficult question; not like I had anything close to an answer.  But as a friend pointed out, “You stumped a Sagan!”

“That’s the sound of the men working on the chain gang”

Well, thanks to my sick days, the writing chain was broken.  As you can see from last week’s progress, I’m a couple of days behind.  I’m off to a good start this week, though.  I’ve made some major breakthroughs with my seekrit nonfiction project–in fact, that’s going to be my main focus this week, and next week as well, more than likely.  I don’t want to let the progress I’ve made with my fiction slide, but one deadline is a month before the other.

I have to say that I’m only recently getting over how ticked I am at missing two days of progress, sickness aside.  But all I can do is keep calm and carry on, right?

Reading is Fundamental

Unless otherwise indicated, the fiction I read this week came from Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet 22.

“Love Might Be Too Strong a Word” by Charlie Anders.  This is the best alien interspecies love-story I’ve ever read. Ever. EVER. 5 out of 5.

“Going to France” by Maureen F. McHugh. Great story but I’ll be honest–I didn’t quite get the end. 4 out of 5.

“Getting Closer” by Steven Millhauser. (THE NEW YORKER, January 3, 2011). Sorry, but there’s no way I’ll ever buy that any nine year-old is as contemplative as the one in the story.  2.5 out of 5.

“American Dreamers” by Caleb Wilson.  Very intricate character studies.  Just not enough for me narratively.  3 out of 5.

“Mike’s Place” by David J. Schwartz.  Nice, tight story.  Has a similar atmosphere to one of my favorites, Keret’s “Kneller’s Happy Campers.”  4 out of 5.

“The Camera & the Octopus” by Jeremie McKnight.  A wonderful grown-up bedtime story.  4 out of 5.

“Escape” by Cara Spindler. I was turned off by the structure of the piece initially, but I was glad I stuck with it.  4 out of 5.

“Away” by William Alexander. Very nice story about an almost-stranger in an almost-strange land.  5 out of 5.

“I can STILL hear you saying you would NEVER break the chain”

I’m taking productivity advice from Jerry Seinfeld that came to me via Lifehacker, with a few changes.  What he does in order to write every day is to take a monthly wall calendar and mark a big red X on every day he writes. 

“After a few days you’ll have a chain. Just keep at it and the chain will grow longer every day. You’ll like seeing that chain, especially when you get a few weeks under your belt. Your only job next is to not break the chain.”

I’m doing the same thing, except I’ll be using the calendar at the front of my Working Writer’s Daily Planner from Small Beer Press (which can currently be had for $7.95).  I’ve decided to use my planner as a log, listing 3-4 tasks minimum for each day (which could be anything: a minimum word count, so many pages of MS edits, a particular research goal, submitting a story, whatever) and then marking off the day Seinfeld-style if and when I complete them.. 

And I think I’m going to keep posting this, every Monday, for the rest of the year.  Here’s how I did last week.  Tune in next Monday, and we’ll see if I did any better.

Reading Is Fundamental

One disadvantage of my newfound love of reading on my Nook is that I’m unable to accurately reflect my reading progress on goodreads, which does so by page numbers of print editions. No such tracking exists as of now for ebook editions, so I’m going old school and talk about the short stories I read this past week here on the blog.

The fiction I read this week came from one of the back issues of various ‘zines I purchased over the holiday, in this case, from Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet 19.

“Tubs” by Ray Vukcevich.  From Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet 19.  Vukcevich is a favorite of mine.  Any ‘zine with stories by him and Carol Emshwiller make it a must-have.  If you want a clinic on worldbuilding a quirky world, this story is it.  5 out of 5.

“Grebe’s Gift” by Daniel Rabuzzi.  It might be a little unfair to read and rate any story having read anything by Vuk, a writer I admire for his usual brevity.  Rabuzzi’s story is very rich and textured, if a touch slow for me.  4 out of 5.

“Dropkick” by Dennis Nau.  It took me awhile to warm up to this story.  For a moment I thought it, too, was running a bit long for my taste.  But the payoff was well worth it.  I really loved the characters in this one.  An enthusiastic 5 out of 5.

“You Were Neither Hot Nor Cold, But Lukewarm, and So I Spit You Out” by Cara Spindler & David Erik Nelson.  This one was a re-read from about three or so years ago when I’d read The Best of Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet.  I’d almost forgotten what it was about until a certain secondary character was introduced.  And then I remembered not feeling ready to be able to grok this story when I first read it.  But I was now, and I loved it.  5 out of 5.

“The Bride” by Kara Kellar Bell.  This story seemed well-written but a bit predictable.  Maybe because I’d read a story recently with a similar theme, but I’m not so sure about that.  3.5 out of 5.

“Lady Perdita Espadrille Tells the Story” by Andrew Fort.  I’ve never been a huge fan of the story-within-a-story, but I did enjoy both stories very much.  I like to think it brought me close to world from which I was far, far removed in the ’80s.  4 out of 5.

“The Slime: A Love Story” by Anna Tambour.  My previous exposure to Tambour’s writing was her story in the Interfictions anthology, “The Shoe is SHOES’ Window.”  And while I recognize a similar quirkiness in “The Slime,” I didn’t seem to enjoy it as much.  3 out of 5.

“Such a Woman, Or, Sixties Rant” by Carol Emshwiller.  But for the length, I thought this was more prose poem than fiction.  And I really like prose poems.  4 out of 5.

“…when we made our plans and played the cards the way they fell”

Lest anyone misunderstand my last entry, I wasn’t knocking anyone who does make New Year’s resolutions.  I wasn’t even making a comment on whether or not they were effective or not, for me or for anyone.  I guess it sort of just reflects my view on the holidays and “holiday spirit.”

I’m not a Scrooge who goes “Bah, humbug” at Christmas.  I don’t complain (too much) about Valentine’s Day being a Hallmark Holiday.  And I get warm and fuzzy for Auld Lang Syne.  But basically, I don’t try to treat people or things any differently than I should have been treating them all along, no matter what holiday it is.  Basically, I like enjoying those feelings more than once a year.  I might fail at consistently doing right, but I certainly don’t start acting like Ghandi after Thanksgiving to people whom I might not give the time of day otherwise.

So as far as New Year’s resolutions go, I find that rather than making a list of goals and giving myself arbitrary start and end dates (January 1st to December 31st), only to forget about that list by March, I’d rather do the same planning, executing, (re-)evaluating, rinse-and-repeat that I’ve been doing all along.

“We must set brand new goals. We must not lose control.”

I spent about five minutes struggling a cool way to blog about the end of 2010, whether by meme or by digging through my year’s worth of blog or twitter posts.  But this year, I’m just looking forward.

I had no desire to make a list of New Year’s Resolutions, but I was in the process of outlining my goals for the next year, GTD-style.  I knew I was on the right track when I saw this the other day on Jesus’… I mean, David Allen’s Twitter:

So no, I don’t have resolutions, but I do have a some new goals.  I have some new gear, new calendars, and hopefully a new writing workflow for 2011.  And, I feel like I’ve gotten enough rest after the end of the hellish last semester at the dayjob to jumpstart some old writing projects and get some new ones off the ground.

Let’s rock!

April in Paris Goes Fourth

As long as I’m still in the 2010 catch-up mood, I noticed this in the queue: Number four in a series of thoughts and meditations on the words of some of my favorite writers from their interviews in The Paris Review.

Bow your heads as we read from St. Raymond’s epistle…

The fiction I’m most interested in has lines of reference to the real world. None of my stories really happened, of course. But there’s always something, some element, something said to me or that I witnessed, that may be the starting place. Here’s an example: “That’s the last Christmas you’ll ever ruin for us!” I was drunk when I heard that, but I remembered it. And later, much later, when I was sober, using only that one line and other things I imagined, imagined so accurately that they could have happened, I made a story—“A Serious Talk.” But the fiction I’m most interested in, whether it’s Tolstoy’s fiction, Chekhov, Barry Hannah, Richard Ford, Hemingway, Isaac Babel, Ann Beattie, or Anne Tyler, strikes me as autobiographical to some extent.

The Paris Review – The Art of Fiction No. 76, Raymond Carver

I don’t know if I can come up with as concrete an example as Carver, but looking back, even my most fantastical stories have a speck of something like that in them.  It might not even be something central to the story, but it was something with enough resonance to me and enough relevance (I felt) to the story at hand.  Sometimes, there are bits of conversations I’ve overheard.  Sometimes, bits of conversations I want to have with someone.  Some of my grievances, real or perceived, have poked their heads into my stories.  People I know and their peccadilloes, too. 

I don’t have a formula.  I don’t just swap initials.  I don’t have a rule about making a male female just so I can use his life details.  What I do involves a lot of remixing and blending.  So much so that if you look at something I wrote and ask, “Is this based on your life?” or “Is that character based on me?”  I can honestly answer, “Well, sort of… not really.  Kinda.”

The best example I can give isn’t my own work, but someone else’s. 

Unbeknownst to the band The New Pornographers, the video for their song “The Laws Have Changed” pretty much encapsulates how I lost my religion (and this is probably the only time I’ll bring this up here).  Seriously, I see every last bit of it captured here.  Metaphorically, in some places; literally, in others.  And not necessarily in line with the metaphorical or literal bits of the video itself.  Only I know which bit pertains to what, and so it goes with what I write. 

How much of me is in my stories?  As much of me that’s in this video. 

Nothing. 

Everything.

Philcon, Part the Third

Yes, yes, Philcon was a month ago and by this point there isn’t too much to do except give a panel report.  Call it part of my year-end catchup.

I attended a lot of the same panels as Carrie and her general views about the con in her write-up would read more or less the same as mine.  But I do have pictures.

I remember it juuuust like it was yesterday…

1
First panel I attended that Saturday was “Do You Write With a Reader in Mind?” with Larry Hodges, Linda Bushyager, Alyce Wilson, Gary Frank, Gordon Linzer, and Oz Drummond.  This was probably the only panel I attended that effectively explored its topic. 

2
After my encounters with Peter S. Beagle, I made it to part of “Evolution of the Fantasy Graphic Novel.”  I went in expecting to at least hear a proposed lineage, rather than a lengthy debate on which “fantasy graphic novel” (as differentiated from the “superhero book”) kicked the whole thing off.  Marvel Comics Group’s Conan?  Eisner’s Contract with God?  Elfquest?

I admit it, I got bored and left.  I opted for dinner, a reading by the Garden State Horror Writers (of which Carrie is a member), and a launch party, after which, Carrie and I went to…

3
“Sexy Science Fiction and Fantasy Stories” with K.T. Pinto, Genevieve Iseult Eldredge, Jennifer Williams, and a moderator who didn’t show (which seemed to be more the norm at Philcon than at other cons I’ve attended, although I admit it could’ve just been my bad luck-of-the-draw).

Carrie talked about the content in her write-up, so I’ll talk about my impressions.  First off, the panelists did as great a job as could be expected sans moderator.  I attended the panel with an agenda in mind–to maybe pick up some things that wouldn’t make my publications in Rigor Amortis and Cthulhurotica flukes. 

I couldn’t help but think that if the moderator was there, I might’ve actually learned something more than…

  • what not to call a vagina in erotica
  • men really are pigs, as evidenced by the leering motley assortment of males in the audience.  My favorite–the guy who staggered in, with no badge that I could see, holding what looked like a 3/4 empty bottle of Michelob Ultra.

I can hear you scoffing.  “Yeah, you’re soo above it, aren’t you?  Like you weren’t checking out cleavages or listening for spank material.”  Well, I’m not going to say I wasn’t… or that I was, either.  Only I know what I was checking out at the time, which is, I’ll fancy, what separated me from some of my co-attendees.  At one point, I think I did hear Beavis and Butt-head snickering somewhere behind me.

My original assessment is unfair–I did learn a few useful tidbits and there was a very useful discussion about the panelists dealt with the issue of “questionable consent.”  But I think it’s fair to say those bits were serendipitous as opposed to a moderated agenda.

4
I didn’t get a picture of the “Hard Boiled Detective Tradition in Fantasy” panel.  I didn’t take many notes and just listened to the panelists Richard Stout and Hildy Silverman.  

5
Okay, so this is where I rant a bit.  I don’t want to complain, but there were a lot of things that would make me think twice about going to another Philcon, chiefly the obvious lack of organization which is apparently legendary if you give any regard to the scuttlebutt you hear in the hallways between panels.  Moderators who, when they showed, freely admitted their utter lack of preparation.  The one I’m thinking of did not blame the fact that most panelists didn’t know until the 11th hour which panels they were on, let alone which ones they were moderating.  No, this person admitted, “I left my notes up in my room.”

And I’m sorry, but any convention that allows its Guest of Honor to go to the wrong freaking room, causing him to be fifteen minutes late to his own reading doesn’t rate very high in my book.

6
“You are. Number Six.”  “You” being all the people whose company I enjoyed: Carrie, Simon, and the members of GSHW, all of whom thrashed me at Munchkin Cthulhu after a few sips of fine absinthe…