I’m not certain how it happened, but my writing group all writes speculative fiction. But within that, there’s a pretty wide range of styles. The other day, one of my friends in the group posted about an interest in writing horror. Up until that point, I knew that Nicole did sci-fi and urban fantasy. But despite her quite-practiced evil laugh, I didn’t see horror as something that held much interest for her.

Then she posted asking for advice on writing horror. (I’ve included the link to her blog for the completeists among you.) And I figured, “Hey, I write horror. I should be able to answer that.”

What I discovered, much to my surprise, is that a lot of what I do when I write horror isn’t entirely conscious. Digging that out and finding a way to articulate it became more difficult than I expected. I’m not going to duplicate that advice here–for that you’ll have to click the link and read it on Nicole’s blog. I’ll touch on it a bit here, but because I’ve taken more time to think about it, this is going to be a bigger discussion.

Horror and I kind of came of age around the same time. I was 5 when Stephen King’s first novel, Carrie, was published. He published over 25 more before I graduated high school. At the same time, horror cinema went through a golden age, starting with Halloween in 1978. While I was still too young to watch a lot of those films, I picked up Fangoria Magazine ever time I was in the bookstore and read all about the horrifying things waiting for me on video and late-night cable television. There were also several fantastic horror comics in those days, perfect for the developing weirdo–Creepy, House of Secrets, The Unexpected, The Witching Hour.

So it’s not a huge surprise that when I started writing short fiction, I wanted to write horror.

Except I wasn’t any good at it.

Oh, I tried. Every piece I turned out for about 5 years was some kind of horror story. And looking back, of course they weren’t very good. I was still learning how to write. Those were all practice. But I also know that the premise alone for most of those just didn’t work because they weren’t scary.

And I’ll be honest with you. I gave up trying to be scary. I still wrote stories with ghosts in them from time to time, but they were urban fantasy. And with the exception of one co-written screenplay, I didn’t try to write horror again until I was in my mid-thirties.

Even without working consciously on horror in that time, something about how horror works had sunk in. It didn’t hurt that I had been working on my writing in that time so the building blocks were in place. The two other keys were that I had been ingesting a lot of horror media, so I had an intuitive idea of what scared me and how, and that I had been running Role-Playing Games with horror elements in that time. (I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again now–running story-centered games was crucial for my development as a writer.)

If you made it this far, maybe you’re hoping for some kind of bullet-point list on how to write horror. Even if you were thinking nothing of the sort, here are my hints, short and sweet, for things to think about when writing horror.

• Monsters, in and of themselves, aren’t scary. What makes them scary is what they do, and what they represent.
• This is no story for heroes. Protagonists, yes. But no one is scared when a heroic figure is put in danger. Make him someone ordinary that the reader can relate to, and you’re golden.
• A slow burn is the only way to cook. Take a page from Ridley Scott’s Gothic sci-fi masterpiece Alien. If you blow your wad showing the monster on the front page, you better have something bigger and scarier on the last one. Otherwise it’s a let down.
• Curiosity is the killer. If your protagonist (and reader) have no idea what’s going on at first, imagine the horror when they figure out what’s been causing that strange sound in the closet?
• Mind your pacing. When things get tense, try for shorter sentences. It might sound goofy, but it works.
• Use your words. Don’t say something’s scary (or gory, or horrible, etc.) Get descriptive. Get into the character’s heads and understand why what they’re seeing is so frightening. Likewise for horror. If you’re going to do gore, you’re already treading in the Dark Lord’s domain. Don’t puss out. Get descriptive and creative. It’s what you’re here for.
• Start small, make it big, the bring it home. Think of a small, personal fear (like ghosts). Think of what makes them scary (not a fear of death so much as a fear that even after death you’ll still be stuck in this loop of misery and pain). Now find a way to articulate that bigger concept on a personal level that the reader and maybe even protagonist can relate to.

There we go class. Hopefully some of this was useful.
Again, check out Nicole’s page for the full discussion. There was a lot of good advice that ended up getting posted by a variety of smart writerly types.

My Seattle, the Colosseum Theater

There’s an argument made about the rise of police powers, that you only have to worry about it if you’re breaking the law. I can understand why people would want to believe that. The idea that we live in constant threat of unfair persecution from powers far beyond our control is a terrifying one. But the un-nuanced view that only the guilty are punished and the innocent have nothing to fear is, at best, naive.

To say that government doesn’t have your best interest at heart isn’t paranoid, nor is it unfair. I’d do believe that government in general has what it thinks are your best interests at heart. And they’re going to miss the mark occasionally. And, in several proven incidents throughout history, our government, which is supposed to protect us all equally, has done some really unconscionable things “for the greater good.”

So why do I fear that Stop Online Piracy Act? I’m a creative content provider, after all, right? Don’t I want to stop piracy? Sure. But I think there are much, much better ways of doing it than resorting to jack-booted thuggery.

Surely our nation can do better, right?

I mean, it’s not like we nuked our own country 210 times over the period of 17 years, then tried to cover it up. (Yes, in fact, we did. It might have been at least partially responsible for the cancer that killed John Wayne, the most American of cowboys.)

At least we never secretly conducted experiments on the effect of mind-controlling drugs on civilians. (We did that too, actually. It was called MK-ULTRA.)

So, giving drugs to people, that’s kind of bad. Thankfully we didn’t actively withhold medical treatment by way of experiment. (Holy doodle, we did that too. In Macon County, Alabama, the U.S. Government participated in a 40 year study of syphilis in a poor black community without their knowledge.)

We also imprisoned a large ethnic group for a period of time because we were at war with their native country. But the internment camps weren’t exactly secret. We just don’t like to think about them. Maybe because we don’t want to consider that it could happen again. (While this could be the height of paranoia, the REX 84 plan has been heavily researched and documented. Sure, it might never happen, but it at least looks like it’s been considered as an option.)

And let’s say nothing about the irony of our country waging a war on drugs while flooding L.A. with crack cocaine. Because using drugs to undermine threats has been a proven tactic since Britain did it to China in 1817 through Canton (starting the First Opium War), if not sooner.

So we dabbled in drugs. These things happen. It’s not like we killed or deoposed world leaders to create more favorable diplomatic conditions. (Sigh. Of course we did. The Church Commission uncovered it while looking into the Watergate mess and put together a quite damning report.)

So, the Stop Internet Piracy Act is harmless. As long as we don’t pirate anything we’re fine, right? There are safeguards in place. Not exactly. If someone else posts a link on your site (Google+, Facebook, Twitter, etc.) that infringes on copyright, your site can be shut down from afar. This doesn’t affect real pirates, because the site is taken down by domain name, not IP address, and pirates don’t give a shit about that. Even if it’s not something you’d recognize as piracy, like you singing the latest Metallica song and it gets put up on your site (or again, just linked to your site), you could have 5 comfortable years in prison for the infringement.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

In even the most optimistic reading of the bill, SOPA sucks out loud. In the more paranoid reading, we’re all one bad link away from being bent over the counter by some entertainment lawyer in a Mickey Mouse mask while the government that’s supposed to be here to protect us watches with polite golf claps.

I’m not paranoid.I love my country. I really do. It’s not perfect, but it’s damn near the best game in town. But I know my history, too. And I know better than to trust them blindly.

So my site will be going dark on Wednesday the 18th in protest. I know I don’t get enough views for anyone to care. But that doesn’t excuse me from doing nothing.

My dressing up as an alien monster days are far behind me.

If your fingers are on the pulse of the RPG circuit, you’ve probably heard that a new, 5th edition of D&D is on the way. Heck, even the New York Times is talking about it. Most of the world will only blink and take no notice. I mean, this game gets revised time to time, right? What’s the big deal?

I’ll wait for the cries of outrage to die down a bit before I continue.

My reason for the post isn’t that I’m outraged. Maybe I’m too cynical for outrage. Or maybe I’ve been involved in the hobby for long enough to be familiar with the evolution of the industry. Let’s take a very quick look at this in a historical context, shall we?

Don’t worry. This won’t be long or detailed. Grab a Mt. Dew and stay with me here.

D&D started in 1974, was revised into Advanced D&D in 1978, and then split into the mutant hydra of Basic, Advanced, Expert, Companion, Master, and Immortals over a period from 1981-86. It was a goddamned mess. That got us AD&D 2nd edition in 1989 which cleaned everything up and more-or-less became the standard for eleven years.

During those eleven years, things weren’t always milk and honey. TSR, the company that created the game, and most would argue, the hobby of Role-Playing, had been struggling. They sold the whole shebang to Wizards of the Coast in 1997, who I would suspect, got about revising the game as soon as the check cleared.

3rd edition came out in 2000, and it felt like a betrayal to a certain core of the players. After all, they had boxes of material that was now useless, and a whole new rule system to learn. I worked at a game store at the time and saw my share of “They’ll get my 2nd edition when they pry it from my cold, dead fingers!” But for every one of those, there were five people excited about the new start.

And why wouldn’t they be? The 2nd edition rules were a nightmare. It wasn’t entirely their fault, I suppose. TSR needed to make money, and they did that by selling product. And over the years they published a glut of new races, monsters, places, and yes, rules. 3rd edition was a great way for new people to jump in. Let’s put a pin in this paragraph. We’ll come back to it, because the economics of the game is important in understanding the hobby from a meta level.

And it worked. It worked so well that Wizards (now owned by Hasbro) revised the rules again, rolling out 4th edition eight years later. Where 3rd edition was divisive for revising old core mechanics, 4th edition was vilified for taking several of the sacred cows of the system and tossing them out entirely. While they tried to keep the spirit of the game the same, key play mechanics reminded people too much of video and tactical gaming. A lot of what they had come to love had changed significantly.

Personally, I was fine with the new additions. Yeah, it meant buying more books, but I was never the collector who had to have every book that came out. There was some genuinely fun stuff in 4th addition. Sure, the rules were different, but at the heart, it was still D&D.

And I’m sure that 5th edition will be much the same.

But I’ll admit I’m surprised and a bit confused over the open playtesting model that they’re doing this time around. It makes me think they’re trying for some kind of collaborative effort, seeking input from the gamers themselves over what they want in the game.

Best of luck. Try getting six people to agree on what kind of pizza they want. My people are fickle and opinionated. I was once part of a game session that fought for seven hours over whether we should turn left or right at a juncture. Now imagine getting hundreds if not thousands of gamers to have input on what is best for their hobby.

Either the input is going to be on the level of “Check these boxes” or “Rate the experience from 1-10,” or it’s going to be a nightmare. But that’s just my thoughts on it.

But why a 5th edition? Surely 4th edition couldn’t have failed so completely to justify that in such a short amount of time, right? Well, yes and no.

See, the dirty secret is, once you have the three core books (Players Handbook, Dungeon Masters Guide, and a Monster Manual), you really never have to buy another product from them again. Back in the old days, D&D wasn’t much more than going door to door in some forgotten place, killing things, and taking their stuff. A person with graph paper could put together their own map, but most people bought adventure modules. And that was the bread and butter.

Get a bunch of seasoned gamers together and ask them what their favorite modules were, I can pretty much guarantee they won’t name a single one from 3rd or 4th edition. Because the game changed more than just with rule tweaks. Dungeon crawling wasn’t enough. Players wanted a big world to stomp around in. They wanted towns and cities and intrigue. They wanted the campaign, a world that centered around them.

But for that, you’re looking at a whole other kind of product–less of an inexpensive adventure, more of a setting book. And the problem is, once you have that setting in place, the characters have an investment in that place, those people, and they aren’t as likely to move on to another. You didn’t have that with dungeon modules. Once you cleaned out the Demonweb Pits, you didn’t buy a pie shop and invest in the community–you went to another dungeon.

For the economic model to work, the publisher needs to keep people coming back buying product that, on a fundamental level, everyone recognizes that they don’t actually need to play the game.

And that’s a dangerous place to run a business from. You need to be able to provide compelling content that makes players want to come back.

And from the get-go, I think they realized that with 4th ed. Last time I checked there were three Player Handbooks, and certain player favorites weren’t available in the first one, nor in the second one. Want to play a Barbarian or Druid? Guess what, Chuckles, you have to buy the second book. But they made it worth it. They put all kinds of useful and fun play info in the books. Likewise with the books detailing powers and features for other classes (Martial Powers, Divine Powers, etc).  From that perspective, they did a great job of monetizing the game.

So, where did they go wrong, and again, why the 5th edition?

While I heard a lot of people bitch and whine about 3rd edition, they didn’t really change core game mechanics that much. Sure, they cleaned it up a lot and got rid of some anachronisms, but it was still the same game–just better presented. But 4th edition took a game that played just fine and made it, from a rules perspective, a different game. (And let us not speak of how they shut the door on 3rd party developers in the process–the genie in the bottle that 3rd edition let out.)

I know several games still running in 3rd (technically 3.5) edition. I can’t say that about 2nd edition. These are games that are doing just fine without ever having to buy another D&D product again (except dice, which Wizards doesn’t make, or minis, which they only do random blister packs for.) To add insult to injury, Paizo, one of the aforementioned  (but not spoken of) 3rd party developers who got screwed in the move to 4th edition, did their own retooling of the 3.5 rules and called it Pathfinder (though it’s essentially D&D 3.75). They’re doing pretty well for themselves.

If I had any advise for Wizards/Hasbro in their time of need, it would be this: go digital, and revitalize your fiction line.

I know you’re worried about piracy, but let’s face it–if you put out a print book, some dick with a scanner is going to make a digital version available for free to anyone with a bit of time on their hands to look for it. If you make reasonably priced digital versions available, people will buy them from you to a) support your product, and b) for convenience.

I may not need every damn book you publish, and I certainly can’t lug that library around from game to game. But if I can pick them up for $10-$15 each for my tablet as a searchable file, I would buy a whole hell of a lot more of them. Heck, sell a digital subscription service to download the books (and I’m not talking D&D Insider–that was some weak bullshit and we all know it.)

And you guys remember the Dragonlance Chronicles? My third wife wrote her college entrance essay about one of those books. Hello Notre Dame! Now, while you do still publish books (and a few damn fine ones–you need look no further than Eric Scott de Bie’s Shadowbane books and Rosemary Jones’ novels for proof of that), it’s almost an afterthought. Editorial staff turns over faster than, well, anywhere I can think of. And I understand, Hasbro, that you’re not in the business of publishing novels. But novels, well marketed and flooding the market, make people aware of the product and the world, and that in turn brings in new players. So I’d suggest you start taking it seriously because it could be money in your pockets.

And I’ll be watching the development of 5th edition. I won’t stop playing in my 3.5 game, and will continue running my 4th edition games. Because the pressure is on you, now. You have to show the gamer community that 5th edition is going to be an improvement to the game–not just an improvement in how you monetize it.

This tree, visible from my window, had been daring me to photograph it for days...

I am occasionally reminded that I truly am my father’s son.

My dad was a complex amalgam of a lot of influences and a lot of labels. We acquire these things as we go through life. Sometimes they define us. Sometimes we let them limit us. Stick a pin in that idea, because we’ll be back to it.

My dad was, among all else, a philosopher. It was what he got his undergraduate degree in. He was, more specifically, an existentialist with a strong interest in Sartre. I can feel your eyes glazing over, but don’t worry. This is a means to an end. This is just a way to discuss perspective.

In a nutshell (and a grossly oversimplified one at that) existentialism says that the individual is solely responsible for giving their life meaning. It is largely about freedom, and being able to find your own truth to live your life passionately and sincerely. I fully expect a philosophical beat-down over that definition, so I encourage you to go to your library (i.e. Wikipedia) to learn more at your leisure.

So here we are. The responsibility of the individual to figure their own shit out. Why is that important? Take something as simple as a tree growing in a park. Two people, standing side by side looking at the tree will not see it in the same way. In essence, they are looking at two different trees. This is because of perspective–both external and internal.

The external one is the easiest to explain. From even a slightly different angle, the light, the shadow, the line of sight, will vary from person to person. Both will see it as a tree, of course. This isn’t a magic show we’re doing here. But this is about more than a tree. This is about your life, so let’s look deeper.

There we find the internal perspective. This is where we go back to that pin we placed earlier. An old man may see the tree as something that grew from a sapling he planted, while a father in his middle years might see it as something he’ll have to rake up after come fall, and a child will see it as a thing to climb. Same tree, but at the same time, very different. I have a very different reaction seeing a maple tree blaze red in the autumn (as evidenced by my photo up top) because we didn’t have those where I grew up. To me, they remind me of my new life here in Seattle, while someone who grew up in Vermont might think of home in the same way an Aspen tree makes me think of home.

Now it isn’t a tree we’re looking at any more. It’s our entire life. It’s the meaning to our entire life. No one has the same perspective on it as you do. So why should you let them define it?

So why is any of this important? Two thoughts, and both a matter of perspective.

One is a lesson. We are bombarded by news constantly in this culture. A good friend who’s opinion I value, had a different perspective on the recent incident at UC Davis. While we were both angered at what happened, we were of two minds on the matter of the responsibilities of the witnesses. Neither of us was Right in an empirical sense of the word. Neither were we Wrong. Because Right and Wrong are ultimately labels, human constructs, moral judgments built on a shifting terrain. (As an aside, being ten and having an argument with your father about Good and Evil and being told that the words don’t actually mean anything will ultimately fuck a kid up in the long run. Case in point.)

What is right is a matter of perspective, filtered through our upbringing and our own life experiences. The take away from this is that it’s real goddamned easy to take the stance of “I’m right and you’re an idiot” without considering that the other person might have a very good reason for disagreeing with you that you never considered because, at the end of the day, he isn’t you. So try and avoid a dogmatic stand if you can. Be open to being wrong, and listening to other people rather than drawing a line in the sand.

Secondly, it’s late where I am. I’m tired. It’s raining heavily, with big fat drops spattering against the window less than three feet from me. And it makes me introspective.

I recognize that who I am, where I am in my life, and what that all means is entirely a matter of perspective. Some people think I really have my shit together, and I don’t know where they get that impression from. Some might think I have a lonely, hermit lifestyle, while others might think I’m a carefree social butterfly. By some people’s standards I’m a failure in a lot of areas, but on some metrics, that’s the exact opposite.

Here is what I know. I am solely responsible for giving my life meaning. For me, at least right now, that means writing, publishing, and helping the people close to me realize their own life’s meaning. It isn’t all there is to life, and I know that, but for right now it makes me happy. I just need to remind myself of that. When I am in the Now, I am at peace.

And that’s a great place to be…

…whether you believe in existentialism or not.

Cthulhu Abides. Green Arrow pint glass is optional.

Here’s a glimpse behind the curtain.

• Cast list and outline: November takes no prisoners, and it’s no time to plot, so I get that all done before hand. Keeps me from getting lost in the snow and eaten by wolves.
• Create a soundtrack: This is background music to put me in the right headspace. Ideally, I have the playlist on a portable device that I can link to the home system so I can get in the zone at home or on the road.
• Stock in supplies: You know what sucks when you have a few thousand words to write? Having to get groceries to feed yourself. I make sure I have plenty of coffee, creamer, booze, brown rice, a rainbow of dried legumes for the crock pot, frozen fish, frozen vegies, and a few convenience items before November hits.
• A Viking Funeral: Or less melodramatically, one good night with friends and family with a good labor-intensive meal. Because those are going to be few and far between in November.
• Line up writing events: The forums are great to help find write-ins and other writing-like events in your area. Suffering is done better in groups.
• Line up any remaining vacation days: Arrange some time in advance where you might be able to catch up or take a breather if you need one. I think of little one-day vacations as rest stops on the way to the novel.

Now you know!

Ed. And thanks to the ever-astute Adam Israel for pointing out that I originally dated this post for 2012. While November is no time for editing, I’m making an exception because it’s still October. Sheesh.

Tiberius Kane is coming for you, punk.

It’s been, hell, I don’t even want to think about how long it’s been. What am I working on? Shit. Pull up a chair. This will take a while. Grab a beer while you’re at it. And fetch one for me too. You don’t drink Miller High Life? It’s the champagne of beers! Says so right on the can! The girl in the moon would not lie to you! Anyway, this is hardly the Ritz-Carlton, fucko. Drink water, then. I keep it in the tap. Saves on space.

So you no doubt are wondering about that totally amazing piece of art to the right with the shit MS Paint text slapped over it. Don’t try that at home, kids. The art is from the obscenely talented Jean Sebastien Rossbach and maybe someday our paths will cross and we’ll work on something together. This is not it. This is me doing a quick cover mockup for the novel I’m going to be writing in November.

Wait, a novel in November…are you one of those *shudder* NaNoWriMo people? Isn’t that, like a cult or something? One, yes, and I’ve been doing it most years since 2005 and have “won” most of those years. Two, blow me. NaNoWiMo, or National Novel Writing Month to the initiates…I mean, um, people who haven’t heard of it, is a weird little phenomenon.

For all those people who say, “Writing a book isn’t that hard. I could write a book!” I present NaNoWriMo. Because it’s incredibly hard. But anybody CAN write a book. I sincerely believe that everyone SHOULD write a book at least once in their life. I think everyone has at least one story in them somewhere, and they only need some way to get it out.

Now writing a good book, like doing anything well, requires some combination of skill and practice and, some would argue, inspiration. And NaNo won’t teach anyone how to write a good book, exactly. But as a long-time piano player, I liken it to doing scales. NaNo is great training on how to handle your shit, how to set schedules and priorities, to increase your speed and efficiency when you find the time to write. And sometimes you’ll even get great sections out of your book. You might even get a whole, gosh darn good book. But honestly, don’t expect it. Because that’s not what it’s about. People who finish the Boston Marathon aren’t graded on a curve for form. They finish, they get celebrated.

So yes, I’m going NaNo this year. I’m writing a hard-boiled sci-fi story called No Escape from Planet Motherfucker, which was described in a twitter conversation earlier today as John Carpenter directing a Quentin Tarantino script. Put the somewhat desperate, violent crew of a low-end cargo ship on a planet where their two tickets off-planet are taken from them–the captain who has been arrested for war crimes, and the pilot who was arrested on a whim to serve the sadistic ruler. The captain has to defend himself in a series of increasingly brutal gladiator games while the crew looks for escape from a planet where the lucky die fast. It’s going to be bloody mayhem. I can hardly wait.

In the rear-view (and side) mirror, we have the very busy world of Timid Pirate Publishing. We had a perfect storm of plague and technical issues that forced the first significant delay we’ve ever had as a company. Even now, we’re trying to clear one final hurdle with Cobalt City Dark Carnival, a book that we planned to have out a month ago. Frustrating does not do it justice. I want to build a time machine and slap everyone involved with Adobe software to the fourth generation. What’s even worse is that I love this book. The stories are excellent! Plus, we mark the fiction debut of a few authors in this volume, and I love introducing new authors to the world! But it’s just one more hurdle. That’s what the stress ball and pink elephants tell me. The journey is almost over. Then I’ll be pushing it like earplugs at a Clutch show.

Also coming up, the outstanding Finding Home: Community in Apocalyptic Worlds is coming out in time for Christmas. Timid Pirate’s outstanding Editor in Chief Caroline Dombrowski has put together a stellar selection of stories from international authors, most of whom I’m thrilled to be working with for the first time. If you want a different, more hopeful take on the end of the world and what comes after, you NEED to check this book out when it’s released. If you don’t, I’ll tell the Differently-Abled Owl Bears where you live. (And before you flip out about the owl bear thing, I’m referring to a pair of pewter owl bear D&D minis owned by a friend which have sadly lost their arms. Don’t panic. They’ve been given a good home and meaningful employment.)

Oh, and for audio drama fans, the next Cobalt City Adventures Unlimited podcast script is turned in and has started with recording. Expect new episodes soon. I can’t say when. Spend this time introducing friends and family members to the award winning audio drama tales of Cobalt City’s super-heroes–the first two stories are complete and ready for listening now. We even have readings from some of our favorite stories from this year’s Growing Dread anthology–a perfect Holiday gift for the biology-inclined. And Talking with the producer soon to find out exactly when they’ll air. And I’m already looking to get things rolling for next year’s podcasts by bringing in a stable of talented writers to keep the adventures flowing through 2012.

And that’s not even mentioning the stuff I can’t talk about.

National Novel Writing Month is crazy for most people. The coming month is actually going to be relaxing for me. Like a spa.

Happy Diwali and Happy Halloween if I don’t talk to you before then!

Oh, and recycle that Miller can on your way out. Thanks!

Like a handful of Autumn

Ah, the eternal question: Candy Corn–seasonal decoration or confection? That’s the problem with a candy when they lose their novelty, I suppose. Candy Corn and it’s larger food group of Harvest Mix has been around for a while after all. We’ve just kind of used to seeing it around the holidays and don’t give it a second thought except to possibly mock it.

And there’s a lot to mock, really. For one, it looks as much like real corn as a Valentine’s Day heart looks like an actual heart, which is to say not at all. And it isn’t flavored. The recipe and cooking process probably hasn’t changed substantially since the 1880′s. And yeah, Chuckles, candy corn and it’s inbred cousins of indian corn and Mellowcreme Pumpkins have been around for a long goddamned time. And for a long time, they were really the only Halloween-centric candy, which says a lot for a holiday that’s been all about candy and setting pumpkins on fire for at least 60 years.

There really isn’t much to Harvest Mix, including fat, which is a selling point for some people. Then again, candies like this which are made almost entirely of sugar, corn syrup, color additives, and bindings (not wax, no matter how these things might taste), don’t HAVE fat. For that you need candies made with chocolate, peanuts, maybe some dairy. No, this little Halloween handful is completely fat free!

But you’re not off the hook. That little pumpkin will set you back 25 calories. Yep. 25. For one second of sugary bliss. And you know you’re going to eat that whole bag in a day or two, probably while you’re distractedly watching Huey Lewis and the News videos on Youtube wondering where your youth went.

So if you really must indulge in the colorful glory that is the Harvest Mix, portion control is your friend. The fact that these candies don’t have any real flavor other than “sweet” makes it easy to not pay attention. So get a small bowl. REALLY small. Something like a demitasse cup which is about 4 oz. is perfect.

And even if you don’t enjoy them for anything more than making fake vampire fangs or decorating cupcakes, now you know a bit about their history. And at least they’re not those damned little boxes of raisins my mom used to give out every year. And she wondered why I routinely got bullied at school…

I’d like to take a moment to discuss the state of Georgia’s recent execution of Troy Davis (September 21, 2011 at 11:08 p.m. Eastern Time).

Yes, I know. This is a writing blog.

But I am a political person, and I can’t let this go.

I would venture that, like me, the vast majority of people who rose up to decry this exercise of capital punishment had no idea who Troy Davis was before this week. You’d never know that by watching the news.

We, as a culture, put on a good show of loving justice, though we each have our own ideas of what exactly that is. More than this, we seem to love the chance to rail against injustice. Maybe it’s because this is an easier path–a quick flash of indignation and rage, a little seething and grousing after, then back to our regularly schedule program. I’m not blaming anyone for this cherry-picked approach. Because once you start looking, really looking, you’ll see injustice everywhere. This is our world. And living with eyes open to this is exhausting. I know this from experience.

This is a blog about writing, a blog about the creative process, a blog, ultimately, about imagination.

And this is where I fail you.

Because I cannot imagine how the execution of Troy Davis was just. I cannot imagine the world as a better, safer place because one man is no longer in it. It doesn’t even matter that he was very likely innocent of the charges which led to his conviction and execution.

A man died last night to feed the machine.

Each of us has the individual responsibility of deciding how this does–or does not–effect their life.

And the wheel spins on.

For one, it gave me a full weekend to be an author in the company of other authors in a more intimate setting than the larger conventions. And that’s awesome, because I love other creative types. Secondly, I got to do so with a good mix of people I know and new faces. Friends and fellow writing group members Jeremy Zimmerman and Torrey Podmajersky were there, as was the talented Jerry Minor who I only see at conventions where I pick up at least a piece or two a year. Matt Youngmark of Chooseomatic books was there with his wife, both of whom I met because of Foolscap LAST year, and I got to see him give a dramatic interpretation of the first issue of Avengers on a panel, so that’s a solid win. New this year were the local author Folly Blane and metal & enamel artist Elizabeth Adams. (Hanging out with both of them in the bar late Saturday night was yet another highlight, even though it made some of us late to panels we wanted to see.)

My own panels went just smoothly enough to get discussions flowing without, for the most part, becoming confrontational. With a program docket that ranged from intelligent marital aids to finding beauty in decay, I feel I got the full spectrum of experience in the discussion arena. And the writing workshop on Friday was exceptional–and here I'm just talking about the 3 sessions I attended, not the one I ran. The one I ran, leading it off with a 90 minute novel plotting section, was productive, on time, and, I would hope, helpful for people. They certainly seemed to be taking a lot of notes.

Other things gleaned from the weekend:

• In a 25 chapter novel outline, chapter 12 is where the sex happens.
• I need a t-shirt that just abbreviates that to “Chapter 12 is where the sex happens.
• The hotel breakfast buffet is SPENDY. Lesson learned.
• One of these days I’m going to make it to the con suite. They bake fresh bread there all day.
• And one of my fellow authors listed above, and who shall not be named, has a tail which they use to open jars.
• I can’t prove the thing about the tail, but I’m inclined to trust the person who told me.
• Apparently, I still blush when I relate my story of reading “The Fishwives of Sean Brolly” from Cthulherotica last year.
• I have stay in touch with more of these people year round rather than just once or twice a year.
• Foolscap 14 can’t get here soon enough.

Get your tickets. The Carnival is coming for you soon.

It feels like the Timid Pirate crew has been working on this forever, but the day is finally here where I can reveal the lineup for the Dark Carnival!

Table of Contents

• Apples and Arrows by Minerva Zimmerman
• Funhouse by Erik Scott de Bie (featuring Stardust)
• Harrigan the Magnificent by Matt Adams
• Custody Battle by Charlie Kenmore (featuring Dr. Shadow)
• Call and Response by Catherine and Andrew Warren (featuring Knockabout)
• Dance with the Devil by Ashley Bates (featuring Libertine)
• Unexpected Sparx by Dawn Vogel (featuring Kara Sparx and Lumien)
• Now You See Me, Now You Don’t by Amber Keller (featuring Mister Grey)
• Fortunes for the Brave Heart by Rosemary Jones (featuring Wild Kat)
• Snowflake’s Chance in Hell by Jeremy Zimmerman (featuring Snowflake)
• Carnival Heart by Nathan Crowder, Erik Scott de Bie, Rosemary Jones, Dawn Vogel, and Jeremy Zimmerman (featuring Louis Malenfant among others)

Featuring a mix of established heroes alongside new characters, the Carnival Pomme D’or includes everything you expect from an evil carnival. Inside these pages you will see fortune tellers, acrobatics, wonders of the ancient world, mischievous puppets, malevolent rides, a deceptive halls of mirrors, tasty fried treats, love found and lost, magicians, and evil from beyond space and time.

Publication is expected this fall, in plenty of time for Halloween! Check out Timid Pirate for all the details.