Authorial Essentials

Earlier today I finished the most recent pass through Ink Calls to Ink. This was not entirely self-directed.

The afternoon of Thursday, the 10th, I received my most comprehensive feedback/notes on the book yet. There were a few things that could stand a bit of adjustment. It was a big rewrite in some respects. There were no fundamental changes required, but certain things needed to be brought out, and the pacing tweaked a bit. All things that would make the book better no matter what. It’s just that it wasn’t anything that could be fixed with a simple scene added here to explain something and move on.

No, to implement these fixes, I was going to have to crack the hood, pull all the parts out, spread them on the floor, then put it back together. This was a front-to-back rewrite requiring a few big bits and a ton of little things here and there to add flavor. Very few of the 31 chapters was going to get out unchanged at least a little bit. At the time, I figured it would take a month, maybe two.

No one was more surprised than me to find it only ended up taking seventeen days.

I know what you’re thinking. How?

Worse still, you might be judging yourself thinking “If this schlub can do it, why can’t I?”

Don’t do that.

Instead, crack a cold one, turn up the stereo, and let me show you how it was done.

First off, I printed up the email detailing the changes I needed to look at. That’s important, because having that at hand to look at and reference helps keep you on track.

Then I printed up the outline and Dramatic Personae, after shrinking the font to 10 pt and making it double-spaced. This turned it into a 13 page document.

All this went into a folder with five highlighters, a couple of index cards on which I had written down the two overlying things I needed to work in. The morning of day one, I got up early, and before going to work, I stopped at a Starbucks. For about an hour, I color coded the key characters, then went to town marking up the outline, showing where the things I needed were, and where I needed to show it more. I then went and pulled a full 8 hours of work, got burgers and drinks with two friends, then watched the last three episodes of Community on HULU. Otherwise, I let the book sit for a day.

I’m part of a regular writing group that meets on Saturdays at a coffeehouse that opens at 7. On the last three Saturdays I got up at 6:30, grabbed breakfast, and was at the coffeehouse before 8 where I generally wrote until 1. Two Saturdays ago, I picked up groceries after group, had lunch, and was on the way home when one of my writing group friends pinged me to see if I was up for more writing. I took a two hour power nap and met her for coffee and about 3 more hours of knocking around the document that evening. I abused coffee like a pro and did little other than write/edit for about 15 hours on that day.

Days four-eight were work days. I did my time at the day job, turning in some slightly longer, slightly more insane hours than usual. Most nights I tried to get a little work in on the book. I might have knocked back a chapter or two here and there. Thursday night, just like all Thursday nights, was writing group, so I was able go, stay a bit late, and make some significant headway. By the time Friday hit, I was probably 1/3 of the way through. I celebrated with Karaoke, killing it on the mic to “Hell Bent for Leather” by Judas Priest and “In the Meantime” by Spacehog. That Sunday, I didn’t write at all and instead I took a bus downtown, saw a play, and had dinner with a friend.

In the first week, I did ten chapters. I even did a few more over the weekend.

And then I took a vacation from the day job, and things kind of went to hell for a few days.

You’d think having all the time in the world makes things easier, but it doesn’t. That first Monday off, I picked up a car from the garage for a friend, then proceeded to piss away most of the rest of my day. Tuesday, I had an eye appointment so my vision was screwed for hours. Two days and I got nothing done.

When Wednesday hit, I got my act together and started turning up the heat. My goal was to hit the halfway point by Friday. That would be about 44k, or at that point 15 chapters. Along the way, I realized that I had overlooked something critical and had to go back and fix it. But I hit my goal, and by Friday afternoon I let myself slack again and went to see a movie with a friend.

The past three mornings were spent getting up early, going straight to coffee, and writing for 4-5 hours, and then writing again in the evening when possible. I added about 5,000 words to the document, addressed all the problem spots, gave it a good look over, and was done with it this afternoon.

Now, here is an important note, and part of why I was able to maintain this pace.

Between actively starting on the rewrite on Saturday, Day Two, I had precisely two social engagements that weren’t writing. Sunday the 20th, and Friday the 25th. Two. Dos. Zwei. Deux. Not a lot.

With the exception of my cat, Shiva, I live alone. No roommate, no partner, no family I see on anything like a regular basis. Many of my friends are online, people I see largely at work, other writers, or were out of town that week. My schedule was entirely my own, for better or worse. If I didn’t get the work done, there was no one else to blame. And with the importance of these rewrites looming, I could focus on the book without having to maintain much more than the barest attempt at a healthy, human relationship.

I consider myself fortunate that I have friends who understand how important my writing is to me. And I make time in my schedule to poke my head out of my ass every now and again to check in with them. Because otherwise, I can turn into a self-obsessed back of dicks and lose touch with what’s going on with their lives–especially when I’m behind the eight-ball on a deadline. My writing friends, they sort of understand. They might not like it, but I think they get it. The non-writer friends…well, it’s a mixed bag. So I made the effort to touch base with several of them last week. Theater, dinner, movie, coffee before my eye appointment during the week, and occasional texts. If I were trying to sustain a marriage or somesuch like that it wouldn’t work–not unless she was a similarly obsessed creative type. I know this from experience. (And if you know anyone fitting that description, you know where to reach me!)

So back to the question: “How?”

The easy answer is that, for better or worse, I’ve made writing my highest priority. Not my highest free-time priority. Not my highest, “When I have a minute” priority. My absolute highest priority. Sacrifices have been made. I still have time for distractions, but they’re just that. I watched the last 5 episodes of Glee last week, for instance. But between that and Dark Shadows, I watched maybe 6 hours of pre-packaged media all week. Because everyone needs a break. And, so it would appear, snappy outfits and choreography. But once refreshed, the work in progress is calling.

It’s always calling.

And I answer it.

That’s how the sausage gets made, kids.

Authorial Essentials

I wrote this novel a while back. This one was notable in that it was my most recent, and my favorite. I have a lot to be proud of in that book.

About a month ago, I got some incredibly solid feedback on it and set about the biggest rewrite I’ve ever had to tackle. I was going to have to go through it chapter by chapter, not just fix a scene here or there. I printed up my outline, made notes, and realized that there were little things that needed to be added to maybe half the chapters.

Despite the scope, the additions were relatively minor. A bit more action here and there, a bit more interaction shown between two groups, maybe a bit more info on one area of the plot. But it was largely just tweaks. No problem!

I hit the midpoint of the book last night, and the second half won’t require quite as much work. I was feeling pretty goddamned good about it as I took the bus home from the coffeehouse last night.

On the bus ride home, however (and again as I was falling asleep), something hit me. I had fallen victim to the very detailed outline when I wrote the novel. And it made me lazy not once, but twice.

Show–don’t tell.

It’s one of the most basic rules of writing a good story.

At two points (at least I’ve only found two of them so far), I put in a few lines of flavor text that were meant to illustrate the danger and random violence inherent in the world. Both times, they were expository. One was a paragraph long, a flashback as someone dimly remembered what had gotten them to this point. The other was three lines long, the random mention of a fight meant to illustrate a mood.

Both times, these were things that I thought of on the fly, dropped in for color or to explain a plot point.

Both times, I should have ignored the detailed outline and just written the goddamned scene and put it where it needed to go. See, it wasn’t just that I needed more conflict. I needed to actually show the conflict that I had already dropped in there–lazily.

That three lines of exposition turned into two pages action. It brought the violence and chaos of the situation home to one character that is otherwise isolated from that kind of thing for over half the book. It builds the world, builds her place in it by showing how she reacts. Those two pages do ten times the work that the original lines did. What’s more, they do it for a completely different character.

So now I’m on the hunt. I’m still doing the rewrites I put into my notes. But I’m also scanning through for more instances where I might have been lazy. And I recognize, lazy in this case is all kind of relative. I mean, I did write the damn thing. Close to 90,000 words. And I’ve made more than a few passes through cleaning it up. But that temptation to cut corners, to settle for “good enough” is…well, I don’t ignore that voice as often as I could. And rewrites are the price you pay for slack.

So, enough slack for now. Time to get back to the hard work. I still have about 130 pages to go through. Might even have to add a chapter before it’s all said and done.

Authorial Essentials

Anyone playing along at home might have noticed that I’ve had a recent run on stories getting picked up for publication. As of a few weeks ago, I’ve hit six for this year. A not-inconsiderable chunk of the credit for that sits with my writing group, the Wayward Writers. Not that we have a name, or matching satin bowling jackets. But most of them are doing this Write 1, Sub 1 challenge. And I’m not that good at keeping on top of checking markets and getting stories out in circulation. Through their peer pressure and the dedicated efforts of Dawn Vogel who, on request, poked me every time I saw her to ask if I’d submitted recently, I racked up 9 stories out there in circulation.

And as any pro will tell you, if you want to sell stories, you have to submit. I mean, you have to write and polish the hell out of them, too. But a good story sitting on your computer will not publish itself. And taking care of that business end of it can’t be neglected.

A little over a week ago, I sold three stories to hit my half-dozen mark. I’m super pleased for all three stories, because from inception to completion, they couldn’t be more dissimilar. And that’s even accepting that two of them are horror. Sort of.

“Cold Comfort of Silver Lake” is the oldest of the three. I’ve been working on that, getting it into some kind of reasonable shape for a few years. It’s the only contemporary story of the trio, and was spawned by an unfortunate incident in my own life and a nightmare that woke me up hard several years back. It has some difficult subject matter, and I’ve had to tone back some of it over the course of revisions. Even then, I knew it was going to take a certain publisher to accept a story that dark. Thankfully the fine folks at Blood Bound Books liked it. They had previously published my story “The Invitation” in their superlative Rock ‘n’ Roll is Dead anthology. Really. Superlative. Four honorable mentions in Ellen Datlow’s Year’s Best Horror. ”Cold Comfort of Silver Lake” will be in their upcoming Invitation to Horror anthology, and I’ll be sure to let y’all know when it’s about to come out.

“Mahrut’s Road” is an entirely different beast. This story was sparked by a discussion about how I wanted to see more strong female fantasy characters, and some settings that weren’t so Euro-centric. So between panels at the Foolscap convention in 2010, I started jotting down what became the beginning of a story about Siri Viraj, a priestess of Mahrut, the Inside-Out God of Madness and Rage. This self-proclaimed “delicate little flower” just wanted to be a dancer until fate chose a different path for her, and the story that she inspired was full on sword & sorcery. At the time, it didn’t really occur to me that there wasn’t much of a market for good, old fashioned S&S, especially with a female protagonist in an India-styled setting. But it didn’t matter. I needed to write what I wanted to read. It’s always been as simple as that for me.  So I’m pleased beyond all the capacity for rational thought that her adventure, “Mahrut’s Road,” has been chosen to appear in Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Sword and Sorceress 27 this fall.

The third story, “Absolution of the Fallen Star” was written in the past month specifically for consideration in an anthology called Dangers Untold. The premise of the anthology was to tell horror stories using non-traditional monsters. And this story almost didn’t happen. Originally, I was going to write a story about finger puppets, but I couldn’t get past a few story/plot obstacles (the primary being that it was too mean, which is an odd thing for me to admit). Then I was going to submit another story that fit the bill. I just had to polish it up a bit. But once polished, I realized that it was significantly too short for the submission call and there was no good way to stretch it. So I sent that story out somewhere else and was left with less than a week to find something that worked. What clicked, suddenly, was a story I’ve been meaning to write since Foolscap in 2011 (funny how inspirational that little con has been, and how much it has done for my writing!). Combining some personal passions, “Absolution of the Fallen Star” dives into Medieval Arabic history, Morocco, and secret knowledge for a story that is pure horror…and a few other surprising things as well. I’m delighted that it was selected to appear, as it’s a story I’ve been wanting to tell for a while. I tried writing the story two other times for other anthology calls, and the time just wasn’t right. It appears the stars were right for it to appear here, in this form. And who am I to argue with the stars?

And now that you’ve gotten a look behind the scenes, it’s time for me to get back to novel edits/revisions.

No rest for the wicked, and whatnot.

Nothing to see here. Just an everyday glowing rock.

Since I haven’t had a television for almost two years now, my ritual has been to watch Community on Hulu the next day when I get home from work. This week was extra bountiful, as they had aired the final three episodes back-to-back the night before. Even better, the show had gotten a 13 episode commitment for a season 4. Not ideal, mind you, but it was something. And the season finale triptych did not disappoint. Plots progressed, story-lines tied up, characters evolved. It was funny, geeky, and touching–everything I watch the show for.

It was only afterwards I found out that Dan Harmon, the creator and show runner had been unceremoniously been shown the door.

Here’s his blog post telling his side of it. And here’s The Hollywood Reporter’s coverage of it.

My first reaction is, of course, a few moments of incoherent nerd-rage as I track down whatever info I can. Sure, I could just let it go. Then again, Dan Harmon is the only reason season two’s amazing “Advanced Dungeons & Dragons” episode was ever made. True story! He had to fight for it. Brutally.

But then again, Dan was no stranger for being hands-on and fighting for his show. He had a very strong vision of what Community was supposed to be. He’s the reason it has been such a smart, layered show. He’s the reason it’s like nothing else on television. And some might argue (namely the suits who made this decision) that his intractable desire to have things his way is what made the show a critical darling and commercial disappointment.

At the end of the day, television is a business. I used to have this argument with my friend Ed around the time Firefly was cancelled. He took umbrage that the networks kept cancelling shows that were good. And while that’s true, network television as an entity has never been about producing programming simply because it’s good. The goal is, has been, and always will be to get enough eyes on the screen to maximize how much they can charge for commercial space and make money. It’s great if they can do that with quality programming, shows that the critics love and that win awards. But if they could get the top rated show on any given night by showing two puppets blowing a kangaroo, there isn’t a network in business that wouldn’t be in Australia with a sack trying to get their next TV “star.”

Let me say that again in case any of you missed it. Television doesn’t have to be good. It just has to be “good enough.”

Do you think a season of The Bachelor is going to end up in the fucking Smithsonian? I don’t think so. But it’s going to be renewed sure as shit as long as a few million people think watching it is an acceptable way of spending an hour of their week.

There are a ton of great reasons why firing Dan Harmon (and doing it in a particularly shitty way, might I add) are a bad idea. None of them, ultimately, have to do with business. He was a trouble maker. And I say that with love, because I’ve always loved the trouble makers. I’ve always been a trouble maker. But no one is irreplaceable.

The fans spoke out when Community was put on hiatus. The internets rose up with a mighty yawp and screamed from the hilltops to keep the show alive. But something had to happen. Something had to change if the studio was wiling to gamble on another season. And the studio knew from working with him for three previous seasons that forcing any kind of changes past Dan was going to be difficult, at best. So they looked at an under-performing show and they removed the one thing that they could identify as the greatest irritant. That just happened to Dan Harmon.

It’s not unlike a surgeon opening up the body of an injured alien and wondering what to fix, and seeing one organ that they can’t identify. It’s angry, red, possibly the cause of all the problems. Maybe it’s infected. They don’t know. So they cut it out, put something else in its place, then stitch it closed hoping it wasn’t a vital organ.

We have 13 episodes next season to see if they’re wrong or not.

Because it’s not like I’m going to quit watching Community. For three years it has been the best half hour on television. It will still have the same cast and three years of story to build off of. I’m not sure how many of the writers will remain, but from what I hear, there were mass defections of the writing staff last season anyway, so maybe some will come back. And the two guys who got put in charge of running the show aren’t hacks. In fact David Guarascio and Moses Port have some solid shows under their belt. I used to love Just Shoot Me, and I loved Aliens in America, though it never really found the audience it deserved. I even enjoyed Happy Endings despite myself. I honestly can’t imagine a better pair of dudes to take over. Their comic sensibilities and style are a good fit. I can only hope they come to the show with the same fire and passion that Dan Harmon did. And that they are willing to fight for the best possible story.

Because I’m still holding out for “six seasons and a movie.”

Now & Later (Tropical) and Hi-Chew (Banana)

You really have to hand it to the little convenience store downstairs from my office–Bashir brings in some really varied treats. Plus, he keeps me in functioning headphones–without which I would probably snap and end up on the news.

Recently, he started carrying a whole bunch of Hi-Chew flavors. I’ll admit, I didn’t know what the hell they were. At a glance, I thought it was gum, and regular readers know how I feel about gum. But they had a banana flavor, so after a few trips, I finally decided to take the plunge. After all, once I looked closer, I couldn’t see anything telling me that it actually WAS gum. So, chewy, banana flavor…maybe something like Laffy Taffy, one of my favorite childhood candies? I figured I’d give it a go, and pick up some tropical Now & Later to round out the experience.

Thus steeled for the experience, I went back to my desk and began the taste test. The Hi-Chew were in a damn durable foil pack, so it’s a good thing they had one of those “pull to open” string things, otherwise this would have been a short post. I don’t have a knife at my desk to open them otherwise (see previous comment about headphones).

Once I finally worked my way down to the candy, I was unimpressed with the visual presentation. It looked a bit like a small, rectangular rubber eraser.

Then I put it in my mouth.

This did not help the rubber eraser impression.

I won’t lie to you gentle readers–my first thought was, “Huh. People eat these? On purpose?”

It was enough of a WTF for my tongue that I immediately looked Hi-Chew up online to get a bit of context. Then it all started to make sense. Hi-Chew is a Japanese candy.

Don’t get me wrong. It didn’t make sense in a, “Those people are seriously deranged. No wonder they like this!” It made sense in a, “Oh! It’s like Botan Rice Candy in texture! And it’s not super-sweet like an American candy would be.” So put down the pitchforks and let’s ride this through to the end like adults.

See, in Japanese culture, they don’t take food out of their mouth after it’s gone in. This makes gum sort of a non-starter over there. To remedy that, a candy was created that had a lot of the chewiness of gum, but you could swallow it. The candy, invented by Taichiro Morinaga, was called Chewlets when it debuted in 1931, and was renamed Hi-Chew after the factory was rebuilt following the end of WWII. Yeah. We bombed a candy factory. What kind of dicks bomb a candy factory, unless it’s staffed by Ooompa-Loompas?

There are seven flavors of Hi-Chew available in the states (where you can find it at all): Strawberry, Green Apple, Mango, Melon, Grape, Peach, and Banana. While the Banana didn’t have the same strong artificial sweetness of Laffy Taffy (which I love), it still tastes pretty good. The texture, while a surprise, was the biggest shocker. American candy just doesn’t have anything that quite matches that mouth-feel. But if you’ve had rice candy, you’ve had something close. It’s not quite gum, and not quite taffy. It’s just what it is. And knowing that, I’m looking forward to trying some of the other flavors–Melon in particular.

In its home country, they have more flavors than I could reliably list. It’s like the Kit-Kat. Japan gets all the cool flavors; we get Pralines & Dick. Really. Check the sidebar on the link and try not to feel a bit cheated. Even if I wouldn’t care about half those flavors, just knowing of the choices I’m denied is crap.

Would I suggest Hi-Chew to a casual candy consumer? You know, it doesn’t cost anything more than a regular and boring candy bar, or a pack of Mamba or Now & Later. And you might like the subtleties of flavor, and the lighter mouth-feel.

Really, after a few of the Banana Hi-Chew, the tropical Now & Later were way too aggressive. Like a creepy dude at a bar who keeps insisting he buy you a drink even though you’re there with your friends, don’t want his number, and have to go to work in the morning. I just wanted the flavor of the Now & Later to back off, play it light and casual.

It’s not gum. Not quite taffy. It’s kind of a mutant. But it’s a mutant which rewards the adventurous tastes.

Nothing has changed, I suppose. It’s just a number.

Some people obsess about turning older. As a kid, you want so bad to be an adult. As the years start sliding away, you want to be a kid again.

To hell with that. I fought hard for these wrinkles–these gray hairs. Time has not been easy on me, but I haven’t exactly been easy on time, either.

43 is a prime number, and here we are. I’m in my prime again. That’s something I suppose.

I celebrated by going to work. Afterwards, I had poutine at Pies and Pints, along with a bottle of Le Fin du Monde. Later still, there was a writing group at the Wayward. I submitted a story to a pro market, which brought my current total to eight stories out in circulation. I turned 43 doing what I love doing. Yeah, I spent hours dealing with a hack to my Windows Live account at work, and another few hours when I got home. It still all balanced out. It was an excellent day.

That story I submitted was rejected 4 days later. Nature of the game. As much as I’d like to hear back on other stories out there in the ether, it was the most recent. Funny how life is. I brushed the little guy off, looked for holes in his clothes, pinned a note to his jacket, and sent his ass right back out there the same day. For good measure, I sent a ninth story out there as well.

Nine feels like a good number. It’s a number of completion.

Completion feels good.

What else feels good is the agency hunt. The full manuscript for Ink Calls to Ink was requested by an agent on my last day at age 42. I couldn’t imagine a better birthday present. Maybe they will love reading it like I loved writing it. Maybe there is a day not to far from now when I’ll be announcing a big book deal. Maybe I can quit the day jobbery, hire one of my best friends to help manage my schedule, and go live in the desert and write.

There are a lot of maybes in this biz, kid.

Here’s what I know: My stock of short stories that I feel are good enough to sell is tapped out. If I want to submit anything else I have to wait for something to perhaps come back, or I have to write something new. That’s a good place to be. And I have no shortage of story ideas. I’m reading several knock-out good novels/novellas that Timid Pirate is going to be publishing later this year, and every one of them is crackerjack. I have some of the best friends in the world–they even braved opening night crowds, high ticket prices, and IMAX 3D to see The Avengers with me for my birthday. There’s a teriyaki place a few blocks away that makes spicy chicken teriyaki so good it’s like getting a handjob from Jesus. My bills are paid. My family and friends are healthy. Fried chicken and waffles might sound weird, but damn! I used to think Glen Campbell was hokey, but “Wichita Lineman” and “By the Time I Get to Phoenix” are sincerely awesome songs even now.

Sometimes the secret to happiness is not getting what you want, but instead wanting less and learning to appreciate what you have. When you do that, the world is a pretty good place. So I remind myself:

Find time to breathe deeply.

Live with mindful compassion.

Keep within sight of center at all times.

And always remember–you are in your prime.

2010, Lakeview Drive-in, Lake Chelan

I’ve warned y’all that for me, 2012 is largely going to be the year of the novel edits. I figure it’s about time to give the curious a bit of an update on that process. Does this mean I’ve hit a milestone?

You’re goddamned right.

A little over a year ago, I put the finishing touches on the first draft of Ink Calls to Ink. To say that I love this book would not be an understatement. I don’t even think it’s a stretch to say that it’s the best, and most accessible, novel that I’ve ever written. So when the year of the novel edits got underway, it was hands-down my highest priority.

I finished my last pass of edits and rewrites on Saturday.

There were certain scenes that I remembered hitting me hard when I wrote them. Coming across them as a reader/editor devastated me all over again. It was so difficult saying good-bye to these characters. While their story is done as of this novel, I’ve been inspired with the idea for a sequel set in the same world. There will be a few minor characters flowing between the books, but the protagonists/antagonists will brand new. I don’t want to give too much away about the book, save that I look forward to outlining it sometime later this year.

So with Ink Calls to Ink behind me (in the actively working on sense–the marketing/shopping process is ongoing), it’s time to undertake the next project.

That next project is the first of a mystery series set in Tuscon. Featuring a retired grunge rocker and his two Boston Terriers, Friday and Bosco, it pokes around the seedy juncture where music and drug trafficking meet. When the son of his friend and neighbor is killed in a seemingly random act of violence, Harlan promises to look into it and make sure the death is being investigated. He quickly realizes that if he wants justice for the young victim, he’ll have to find the killer himself–and try not to get himself killed in the process.

Having grown up in the Southwest, and being a huge fan of the Tuscon music scene, this is somewhat of a dream project for me. The biggest catch, of course, is that I really need to get down to Tuscon to help fill in some of the local color details. I’m going to try and make the trip in June, knowing that it will be godawful hot. I can get a room with a pool and air conditioning and do a week’s worth of edits. But I want to get a good head-start before I do that. So work on the current draft will be starting this week.

As a bonus pro-tip: don’t forget to back up your drafts.

I had a few drafts of this novel laying about on two different computers and a memory stick. I had copies of those as email attachments when I sent it out to beta readers. I thought I was covered. Then Sunday I got to the end of the document–and was stunned to realize it wasn’t the end of the book. Somewhere along the way, I lost two-and-a-half chapters. About 6,000 words all told. By total random chance, I managed to discover them again within an hour. Apparently past-Nathan heard my cry of horror when the chapters went missing as it rippled though space and time. He wisely emailed the finished novel to future-me with the title “Emergency Backup.” Honestly, I don’t remember doing this. It isn’t generally something I do. But man did it save my bacon this time!

Consequently, I’ve since gone through and backed up all important finished drafts, and even a few less-important unfinished ones.

You never can be too safe.

Now, with the confidence of one finished novel in the can and one good working draft, I’m starting the next adventure. With a bit of determination, I should be able to start working on something new by the fall. And I can hardly wait to see what that will be!

I’ve been a bit radio-silent for a while, and for that I apologize. Just like I do every time I go radio silent, I suppose. This writing thing, I’m telling you people. It is not for the weak of heart or the lazy. It just isn’t. Between some tight writing deadlines, some pretty rigid (but self-imposed) editing deadlines, and two conventions (to say nothing of the day-jobbery), I’ve been a bit busy. The upside of all this is that I have all kinds of fun stuff to talk about. Today’s installment: what’s been going on in my world of short fiction.

In a recent flurry of submissions, I got six stories out—two which are now picked up, and four which are in the waiting period. The two that got picked up were both written in the last month, and other than that, are about as different as you could get. One was the high-octane sci-fi story “By Gods Damned and Bounty Blessed” which will be appearing in the upcoming Bulldogs! Anthology. I encourage you to go toss some money at the anthology so they can add even more amazing authors to the book before it’s too late. My story involves a tough-as-nails bounty hunter on a quest for revenge. The other story is called “Bethlehem Glen” and is atmospheric horror set in the early 80’s in the wilderness of central California. I can’t tell you where it’s going to appear—that much is a closely guarded secret for now—or too much about certain elements. But I can tell you that it features a trio of hapless bank robbers and their prisoner.

And I can also tell you that, despite no deliberate planning on my part and having them set galaxies apart, both stories found an unexpected intersection on the theme of religion.

In my sci-fi story, a bounty hunter goes to collect a conman passing himself off as a messiah in a small mining community. She quickly learns that her partner, a new recruit on the ship where she is assigned, is a priest of a small, possibly heretical sect.

In the horror, I got to play with the concept of cults and communes that seemed to be everywhere in the seventies—especially in California.

Two stories, three religious traditions, no waiting.

And it was interesting to me how that theme played out differently across the two genres.

When dealing with matters of fantasy/horror, there is a certain automatic acceptance of things of a supernatural nature. So when you bring religion/spirituality into a story of this nature, there’s a certain amount of baggage. A person of faith can either make a huge impact, or his lack of impact can be seen as a critique on how religion is a sham, or even how his faith is lacking. But to the best of my (admittedly limited memory) it’s rarely there just as a meaningless background element.

But in much sci-fi, it’s either a bit of characterization (like hair color or accent), or absent entirely. I know I’m setting myself up for a barrage of people citing exceptions. I’d actually kind of welcome that. But I still maintain that religion in sci-fi is largely a matter of individuality, or a political overlay. I can’t think of a single instance of someone calling on their Gods and actually have them listen.

Compared to fantasy novels (or horror, where the Gods are less than friendly), where something might actually happen, it’s a huge difference.

Does this mean that effective religion, with divine powers and worship that has real effects automatically kick fiction out of sci-fi territory? Is there room in sci-fi for a devout character of faith who maintains that faith despite all scientific evidence to the contrary? And does this devotion make him noble or a fool?

I’m honestly not sure of the answers to that myself. But it does make me want to explore it more.
I touch on it in “By Gods Damned and Bounty Blessed,” where one character is a priest of The Gun Saint.
I guess in the future, it’s all about who you worship that gets you the results you want.

Again, I encourage you to check out the Bulldogs! Kickstarter. The kind folks at Galileo Games have put up a short preview of my story there. It only gets more insane from there. Like, fist-fight with a God insane.

And when I can announce where the horror story is appearing, I heartily recommend you pick that up too. I can say without fear of contradiction, it’s one of the creepiest things I’ve ever committed to paper. And for me, that’s saying a lot.

Some people love chewing gum.

Some people also love intercourse with farm animals.

The message here is that there’s no figuring some people.

My dad loved chewing gum. I think it was an oral fixation…something he could do instead of smoking. He was a Double-Bubble man through and through. He’d buy it by the box at the college bookstore and dump it into his desk drawer at work.

And on one hand, I can kind of see the appeal. With candy, it’s a burst of sugar and then it’s gone. With gum, the sugar lasts a little longer. Then you’re left trying to squeeze some lingering sense of joy out of it forever, kind of like the last few seasons of Friends. Candy is ephemeral–there and then gone. Gum is the sweet hook that turns into the chore. As a kid, I was known to roll my spent gum in sugar to get just a little more mileage out of it. Always a futile effort in the end, but desperate times and whatnot.

So this brings us to Bazooka.

Bazooka bubblegum was introduced by the Topps company shortly after WWII. Topps, if you recall, was the company made famous by trading cards. I’ve heard legends that they reason they put gum in the cards was to keep the cards rigid. Or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, one thing that is true, is that Topps grew out of an earlier company–American Leaf Tobacco. When the supply shortage of Turkish tobacco threatened to kill the company after the first world war, they pretty much shit the bed and decided to try this gum thing out.

I guess it worked out for them. And kudos for forging a timeless link between tobacco and gum. One oral fixation is as good as another in my book!

Somewhere around 1953, they started wrapping Bazooka bubble gum in a waxed paper comic strip. There are 50 comic strips in total, so it’s possible to collect the whole set. After all, the Bazooka bubble gum has been virtually unchanged since that innovation over 50 years ago. Except now instead of an offer for some novelty item there’s a link to their website to collect cool stuff. And there’s a fortune. There’s always been a fortune. Something pithy like “Birds of sadness might fly overhead, but you don’t have to let them crap on you.” I paraphrase, of course. Oh, and they’re translated into a few other languages depending on where you get it. Canada has both English and French versions, while they have the strips translated into Hebrew for the gum sold in Israel.

The comic strips feature the titular Bazooka Joe and his Gang® who is a blonde kid with an eye-patch and dead-beat friends. Did I mention they’ve been pretty much unchanged in over 50 years? You can imagine how well the humor holds up. Plus, what the hell did they do to that kid to warrant an eye patch? I’m sorry, but unless you’re a pirate, no eye patch for you! A kid with an eye patch is just…well, sad, really. This kid is no role model.

So I know what you’re thinking. What about the gum?

Well, like all bubble gum, it basically tastes like sugar for a few minutes. After a while it is less of a treat and more of a piece of exercise equipment. Plus, it tastes a bit like rubber bands and ass. You could do worse if you have to get your jaw work out in, or need to calm the voices in your head (Trust me, I hear this works really well. Try offering the guy on the 358 bus who is talking to himself a piece of this, and he’ll probably shut up for the rest of the ride home.) But at that point it’s largely therapeutic and not candy.

If I were to recommend any gum (which is highly unlikely), I’d probably go with Chiclets. But that’s a whole other post.

Two faces of Buddha.

Can it be less than a year since I talked about faith/religion/and spirituality? What the hell kind of writing blog is this anyway?

Mine. And I have something to get off my chest.

Some of you might remember my earlier post on faith, Let’s Talk About Sects, Baby. If not, I’ve provided the link. It’s not necessary, but I’m going to reference a few of the same points here without being too repetitive. After all, that post was talking about how important it was to have faith, even though (and quite possibly because) it’s nutty. With this post, I’m going to try and provide something of a practical working guide to faith (you in the back, stop snickering).

My intention isn’t to tell you what to believe. I’d never presume to do that.

My intention isn’t even to tell you how to believe. Not exactly.

My intention is to offer tips on how to live your faith without being perceived as a sanctimonious prick and bully by those around you.

Why is this? Well, quite simply, because I keep an eye on the news. And it seems a lot of people in positions of authority could benefit from these tips. So buckle up. I’ll try to keep this short and sweet.

So let’s start with a quick primer. What is faith? Faith is, at it’s very root, a deep belief in something that guides our action, helps us determine how we live our life. Most importantly, and this is in the definition, faith is a strong personal belief in something that can’t be proven. And herein lies our first lesson. Let’s look at that description of faith because it’s important. I’ll highlight the important words for you.

Faith is, at it’s very root, a deep belief in something that guides our action, helps us determine how we live our life. Most importantly, and this is in the definition, faith is a strong personal belief in something that can’t be proven.

You see the key features there? Personal. Take for example abortion. (Like I said–I watch the news. And it is what prompted this post.) The only time faith should be a factor in the decision whether or not to have an abortion is if you’re the one having (or not having) it. You can believe with all your heart that abortion is murder, and that the mother is making a huge mistake and going to hell for her decision. It doesn’t matter. It is her decision. And quite frankly, it’s none of your business.

Because, and say it with me here, faith is personal. And the minute you start using your faith to make decisions for other people, to impose your faith on their lives, it’s no longer about faith. At that point, it’s about control.

Now, at this point the conversation tends to degenerate into quoting scriptures. One side uses quotes from their book to prove a point. The other side will either discount the book entirely as outdated and irrelevant, or summon up ridiculous and dated quotes that are also in the book.

We’re not going to do that for two reasons.

• One: the fact is that for all the lip service, a lot of people haven’t read the whole book–they just cherry pick the parts they like, or have passages quoted at them so many times they figure that’s good enough. After all, the guy they trust to interpret the book for them read it, right? He can Cliff Notes it. The book is long and confusing and difficult to read. It’s kind of like Foucault’s Pendulum by Umberto Eco in that regard. You can struggle through it and try to make sense out of it, maybe apply some of it to your life. Or you can trust someone else to tell you the important stuff. The differences being, the person telling you about Foucalt’s Pendulum isn’t using it to further some ideological agenda, the other book is hundreds of years old, and, no offense to Eco, I was able to at least finish the other book. The point of the book is to read it and interpret yourself, using it as a guide to make sense of your own personal stuff.
• Two: it’s still none of your business. At the end of the day…heck, the end of the universe…no one gets the right to tell anyone else what to believe. Anyone. Ever. Period. If someone don’t have your beliefs, if they don’t share your faith, then let it go. You can certainly talk to them about faith as long as they’re willing. But you can’t force it. And if you are, you’re being a bully.

And that’s ultimately the core thing you need to know about faith.

It’s yours. Use it. Faith is there to make your life easier. It’s there to give you comfort when you need it. It’s there to give you guidance when you’re lost. It is a warm blanket against the long, cold night of the soul.

Secondly, don’t try to hide behind faith to justify your attempts to get people to do what you want or live like you want them to. If they’re not harming you, you just don’t have the right. But taking away the right of women to make their own decisions is, at best, condescending. And using your faith to justify it cheapens both you and what you profess to believe in. It makes you seem clueless and out of touch. It makes you seem unsympathetic. It makes you seem, quite frankly, a bit of a dick. It makes you a bully.

And no one likes a bully.

I suspect there are a great number of people who are going to find that out in the next election.