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…

Philcon, Part the Second

Forgive me Father, for it has been nigh on three weeks since I should’ve posted this.

So, in this part of my trip down Philcon memory lane, I’m going to focus on the things I gleaned from Peter S. Beagle’s GOH speech based on my week-old memory of the event, which is fuzzy from the constant squee of that day.

He basically went the “advice to aspiring writers” route.  I had no complaints.  And through his speech, I confirmed that he was yet another example of a writer whose work I admire who has similar views about writing as I.

The main points of his speech were, as I remember them…

1
“Nobody said anything about ‘inspiration.'”  Artists just go to work, like everyone else.  As his uncle told him, “When the muse is late, start without him.”

He also reminded us of the rule of all freelancers, “If they ask, you can write a song.”

2
“Show up for work.”  Beagle suggests building a time where no one gets to bug your and you can’t leave.  I suppose however you do that is up to you, but the takeaway is to write on a “murderously regular basis.”

3
“Enjoy the company of other writers.” Though, he notes, not while you’re writing.

4
“Live with imperfection.”  Because, basically, you’ll have no choice, no matter how good you are.  He gave us an example of an artist who feels this way, jazz trumpeter Roy Eldridge. (A mutual love of jazz trumpeters can almost fool me into thinking Beagle and I are cut from the same cloth. Anyway…) Eldridge describes the trumpet as “a mean instrument” (Believe me, he’s absolutely right!), where some days you feel as though you’ve mastered the instrument inside and out.  And some days, the trumpet will say, “Hey, the hell with you, man.”

When Beagle has those times, he refers to a sign which he apparently always has above his writing desk that says, “Think, schmuck!”

5
“Pay no attention to criticism–or praise.”  ‘Nuff said, I think.  This is another oft-repeated piece of advice that’s escaped my notice until recently.

6
“Nothing you accomplish prepares you for the next one.”  Again, ’nuff said.

7
“You learn all this stuff by doing it.  And by doing it wrong.”  Say it with me: ‘Nuff said.

#

Next in the backlog/queue: a quick panel breakdown, ravings about the folks I hung out with, and rantings about the con organization.

Philcon, Part the First

It’s been a few days, so I thought I’d better get on with a Philcon write-up.  My year would’ve been complete having met one of my literary idols, Howard Waldrop, at Readercon in July.  The chance to meet a second idol in the same year, Peter S. Beagle, was just too good to pass up.  So, here’s what happened…

1

The first thing I had to do was get there.  Readercon took a lot of planning and a months-long allocation of resources.  This time I didn’t have the luxury of taking vacation days off on both side of the con, and being able to get my own hotel room to recharge my introvert points.  Let alone figure out how the hell I was going to get to Cherry Hill, NJ and back to work by Monday.

Enter one of my newest and truest friends, Cthulhurotica publisher Carrie Cuinn and her rented chariot, who was gracious enough to pick me up and take me home, all for gas money and as many meals as she would let me pay for.  Totally worth it! 

2
Saw some of the Lobbycon stuff going on Friday night, but was too tired by the time we got to the hotel to really check it out.

3
Saturday morning, after breakfast at Panera, I hit my first panel, “Do You Write with a Reader in Mind.”  Y’know, I think I’m going to post my panel round-up next time…

4
The schedule of author signings was conspicuous by its absence.  Afterward, I trolled through the dealer’s room and there he was, signing…

And after talking with him for a few minutes, I hit the jackpot: A signed copy of Magic Kingdoms: The Best of Peter S. Beagle, which io9 calls “a storytelling masterclass.”
5
This is the point at which I embarrass myself and admit that I’ve never read Beagle’s novel The Last Unicorn.  Had I read it, I would’ve immediately known that the scheduled reading titled simply “Schmendrick The Magician – Reading of Unpublished Stories” was, in fact, Beagle reading unpublished stories based on a character from the novel.
6
After Beagle’s reading was another panel that I ended up leaving early, so I had a couple of hours to hang out and grab a nap.  Did some hanging out, but no sleeping.  Oh well, why else does one go to cons, right?
7
Actually, next up was Beagle’s G.O.H. speech.  There’s a lot I want to say about this, so maybe this’ll be a separate post, too.
#
So, there was more but this post is getting too long.  I guess I did manage to cram a lot into a Saturday, huh?  My day didn’t end there, that’s for sure.  More tomorrow.