Speaking of the Mad...

Cross-Promoting Other People Who Need Food Money Too

2012-02-06T14:05:00.004-06:00

Actually, I think Mr. Lewis can afford food but that's now. In an author's life, if you don't buy his books: today, food; tomorrow, leaves. So, I bring to your attention, J. F. Lewis' latest Void City book. Now, some links but I warn you, his website is all flashy and professional so, leaving here, be prepare for the cultural shock.

(authoratlarge.com) and (writethefantastic.blogspot.com)

Right. Now if we're all really lucky, the picture and the links will work on this infernal, never-to-be-sufficiently-cursed-interwassit. (Did I mention culture shock?)

Now, I like Mr. Lewis a lot but I have to warn you in good faith, he uses a LOT of bad language. Yeah, yeah, I know, only me and the Victorian mouse in my pocket care but I don't want anyone buying the book and then going "Hey, it's got the F word in it." Still good writing so, if you read horror and like your vampires non-twinkling, buy it. Remember, only you, the market, can save vampires from becoming sparkly keychains.

About now, someone will ask: Do YOU, Mr. Keaton, have anything out yet? Well, yes, as a matter of fact I do. And someday I will get around to posting about it but, I don't like talking about my own stuff and I much prefer sending you to read an author I know is good so for now, be content with the fact that I have two items pending, signed one new contract this week, I have another short story commission, and the first chapter of the new JSJames book is ready for my beta-readers (if you want to be on the beta-reading team, as always, let me know). Add in one black-box project and I still have more market than I have stories finished. Must write faster. Must outrun other authors. Must resist urge to run for president. (Still trying to figure out how to succeed and form my own country. THAT, I would move up on the priority list if I can figure out how to do it.)

Anywho, check out Burned and then get the full series. I have it on good authority that unlike other hacks who are just stringing you along for as long as they can go, Mr. Lewis actually has a story arc and a theme.

Blockbuster Book Proposal

2011-11-02T12:34:00.000-05:00

After years of struggling (and failing) to break through into the upper ranks of writing success, I have diligently studied the markets, library purchasing habits, and critical book reviews. Together with my new co-author, Ms. Collabone, I present the following book proposal, guaranteed to be a record setting bestseller. Coming soon from the first publisher wise enough to offer a five digit advance, we present this preview of:

Bitten Bonnet
A Tale of Forbidden Love
By M. Keaton and D. Collabone

Angst-ridden Sarah Plain is a sexually repressed Amish librarian who longs to meet that one special man to sweep her into his arms and carry her to a fulfilling life as a feminist author. When Mardi Gras erupts into a full-fledged zombie apocalypse, a lifetime of reading paranormal romance leaves the plucky red-head ill prepared when she meets the man who really does want to carry her away.
An epic romantic saga set in the quirky environs of Louisiana, Bitten Bonnet is both a compelling story and a scathing criticism of the evils of modern traditional society and the struggles of interracial relationships. Sarah's tale surpasses the previous standards of literary excellence and the digestive system. Filled with eccentric and complex characters, Keaton and Collabone have constructed an achingly tragic story of a love that burns beyond life itself.

Internal sample text:

Hamish leaned against the split rail fence, watching the trail of smoke curling up from the distant city. "It is zombies, then?"
"Verily," Enoch replied, absent-mindedly pulling at his beard. "They have come for her. There is little we can do, I fear."
The centenarian shook his head sadly. "If only we could have known. If but once she had removed her bookish glasses and pulled the pins from her bun to let her burning tresses fall about her shoulders with passionate abandon--surely by such an act she would have betrayed her true nature as the hidden seductress, which the writings warn us is a veritable magnet for the undead."
"Or if we had seen the serpentine tattoo climbing sensuously up her back. But she did not. I tell thee, Hamish, it is too late and it vexes me. Is there naught we can do?"
"Nay, friend Enoch. As well ye know, we Amish have spent generations preparing for war with the vampires. Of zombies, we know little."
"Who then? Surely the Elders did not leave our world so vulnerable. Are zombies the province of the Mennonite then?"
"The Mennonite stand against the werewolves."
"The Hutterite?"
"Demons."
"The Planters?"
"Chupacabra."
"Who then, Hamish? Tell me."
The old man sighed, removing his black hat and staring into it as if he could pull hope from within. "The Shaker," he said at last.
Enoch flinched as if struck and leaned against the fence with a pained groan. "Did they train any others?" he asked, desperation creeping into his voice.
"The Unitarians. But…" Hamish allowed his voice to drain away. The two men stood in silence, the wind smelling of smoke. "We can wait no longer. The zombies are now a matter for the bayou-dwelling heathens," he announced, suddenly resolute. "We must flee. Tell the other men to prepare the buggies. And take off those thrice-damned orange triangles; 'tis no time for frippery!"

#

His eyes burned as if worms of fire crawled within them. Swollen and unable to close, the sand-dry orbs tormented him, tempting him to claw them from their sockets, ringing his vision with a crimson mist as he writhed in the dirt. The hound dogs growled and fled from his frantic reach as he twisted between the cinderblocks that held up the trailer. His stomach burned worse than his eyes, consuming itself in a craving hunger.
He shouldn't have eaten that rabid 'coon, especially after he saw that it was wearing Mardi Gras beads but, dammit, he'd been hungry and he'd eaten worse--much worse. But now…
His stomach cramped, twisting in his gut like one of those TV aliens trying to get out. He howled in pain and the hounds howled back. He pulled a hand to his mouth and, without thinking, licked the dirt and dried blood away. Suddenly he found himself stuffing fists full of dirt into his mouth, desperate to eat anything, like a horse cribbing at its stall. So hungry. He howled again.
Above, through the paper-thin plywood of the trailer's floor, the sound sent cold chills up young Damien's spine. "Pop? What's wrong with Uncle Emmet?"
"Probably sobered up," his father replied around a cigarette. "Shut up and eat your paint chips. We got us a long night of scratchin' off lotto tickets if we're ever gonna make enough money to get outta this gov'mit-issued formaldehyde-smellin' trailer."
Another howl echoed through the floorboards, this time sounding suspiciously like a word. "Brains?"

Dreams of Steam II; Brass and Bolts

2011-08-26T13:46:00.006-05:00

After the success of Dreams of Steam, the good editor Ms. Richardson told me there would be a sequel and asked if I would contribute. I agreed and the result is in this second DOS anthology. My story (novella really) is a continuation of the "Brass Africa" saga and worth taking a look at even if you don't normally care for steampunk. (Ironically, one of the early reviews of the anthology gives it 5 out of 5 stars and notes that there is only one story they did not like. I suspect it is mine.) The Brass Africa tales are not run-of-the-mill standard Victorian or American West steampunk. Rather than go where people like Cherie Priest have already gone, I have my own view of the genre and a unique approach. Yes, the story is set in Africa, earlier in time and tech than most steampunk stories, and with more than a touch of African history and myth. If you don't like that in your steampunk, I respect that and humbly say, the Brass Africa stories are not for you. I do, however, think that if you are a fan of the more conventional steampunk, you will absolutely love the rest of the anthology and still encourage you to pick it up.

Let me conclude by saying that, after you've read it, feel free to nominate "Grass Elephant" for every award and "Best of the Year" anthology collection you can think of. I normally don't hype my own stuff that strongly so, to answer the implied question: Yes, I think it's that good.

UPDATE: I forgot to mention, the book is not just available in trade paperback. It is also available as a hardback or ebook. If you local or internet book provider are not listing these two additional formats, you can order them directly from the publisher at http://www.kerlak.com/dosteam2.html

Booksigning Moved

2011-06-02T14:20:00.002-05:00

The bookstore has asked to delay the signing by a week to give them more time to advertise it locally. Sorry for the confusion if you were planning to attend and hope to see you all on the 11th.

Book Signing in Siloam Springs AR

2011-05-23T14:08:00.002-05:00

For those interested and in the area, I'll be signing books at "Books on Broadway" in Siloam Springs AR Saturday morning (not my idea) 10am-noon on Saturday June 1.

Speaking the Abyss

2011-04-06T11:36:00.004-05:00

[I originally was asked to write this for a book of essays by the "survivors of mental illness". It was rejected because it was "too depressing" and I refused to lighten it up. The truth, after all, is not chicken soup. I have debated about posting it for over a year now but, because of discussions and encounters with other authors, I finally decided it needed to be out there. In some ways, it may be considered a companion piece to the "Purple Crayon" essay.]

Depression is too kind a word, like you’ve had a bad day and things will get better with a hot meal and some sleep. The truth is a much darker thing--a crushing despair that saps your will and whispers in your ear that the world would be a better place without you, a sorrow so deep and pervasive that it literally makes your body ache, nights spent staring at the ceiling obsessing about the smallest of problems and drowning in a sea of fear, panic and anxiety pushing you under for the third time…no, depression seems too kind a word.

I tried to ignore it, to work through the fear and formless sense of loss. It’s just a character flaw, I would mutter through gritted teeth. Real men suck it up and deal. When my mind refused to acknowledge the growing truth, my body made the call. One morning shortly after Christmas, I rolled out of bed, headed for work, and found myself curled up on the floor, convulsing, crying, completely out of control, unable to even muster a coherent thought, afraid and overwhelmed by everything. I hit bottom full throttle, and years of ignoring the warning signs triggered a cascade of secondary problems that left me a proverbial basket case. Mental illnesses aren’t isolated conditions; they hunt in a pack. When I finally succumbed, my entire world, with my mind, came apart like a crushed eggshell.
I don’t remember the two years following my collapse, when a life-long struggle with depression and anxiety finally overwhelmed me. Somehow, my wife got me to a doctor and that doctor, in turn, realized I was beyond his ability to treat and found me a specialist able to begin chipping away at the problem. Body first, mind second. Months drugged into a near-zombie state while a devastated immune system and a glandular system, driven haywire by exhaustion and years of running in overdrive, healed.

In the gray mist, there are snatches of memory. My wife caring for me, running the household, and waiting for the return of the man she married with saint-like patience. Relatives bringing bags of groceries into the house. Friends visiting to sit in awkward silence. Finally, a change of medication, easing me back into reality, and the long, slow, painful task of rebuilding my mind and spirit, up from the bottom brick by brick.

No man is an island, and I benefited from the kindness of others more than I deserved. Twice I went back to my old job on reduced hours, the company owners firmly on my side, fighting to keep me on the insurance rolls. Twice, I spiraled into depression again, unable to stand up to the stress. Friends pulled strings to find me temporary weekend work that managed to make enough to pay for my medications. In the end, even that was not enough; and my doctor, a noble, caring man more dedicated to his Hippocratic Oath than his income, ignored his fee, supplied me with medication from his own stock of samples, and worked with the pharmaceutical companies to insure that I was never without the help I needed.
Years. It took years of pride and stubbornness to dig the hole; it took years to climb back out. Unable to work on a fixed schedule, often unable to even work with other people for an extended period of time, I returned to my first profession I had set aside to pursue a ‘career.’ I wrote--not great works, just simple escapist fiction for people who needed a break from the working world. I still wrestled with depression and fear every day, but I could function. The cost had been high but the next phase of my life had begun.

As part of my work as an author, I was encouraged to attend writing conventions, gatherings where authors, editors, and publishers mix freely with the readers who support them. I was hesitant. My emotional balance was still precarious; I was unsure how I would be able to handle myself in a public forum and afraid of being overwhelmed by the sheer press of humanity. In an odd kind of way, I found, among other authors and our readers, an extended family and support group. The number of authors and artists dealing with mental illness, and depression specifically, is disproportionately high compared to the average population.

I resolved from the first that I would not shy away from discussing my condition. I was not going to preach about it or even bring it up unless it was relevant, but neither was I going to sugar-coat the issue or apologize for being who I was and having, what I had finally been made to realize, was a legitimate medical problem. And the topic did come up, repeatedly; I was not alone in this. What made me a rarity was my willingness to speak. The social stigma against mental illness is still strong, and many of its sufferers live with the added burden of shame.
I had struggled for the better part of a decade with the question of why: Why me? Why this? I was about to receive my answer when I found myself in the hallway with an elderly lady, tears in her eyes, tapping me on the chest and sobbing. “You speak for us. Make them understand. You can make them see; we can’t. Don’t stop. You speak for us.” It was a humbling experience, to realize that for all my problems, I was so much better off than others, that I had found a way to stand with a foot in both worlds--healthy enough to function and speak publicly, but still fighting and unable to lose sight of the pain and intensity of the illness.

I am no activist. I don’t seek out soapboxes to talk about depression and mental illness and, in the grand scheme of things, I really don’t say that much. But I’m not backing down and I’ll not stay silent when the subject comes up. Why me? Because it’s not about me. It’s about us, the great sprawling “us” of depressive and bipolar and autistic and every other human being who labors under the public misunderstandings and shame of mental illness. If I can in my small way ease that pain, that’s a burden I’ll gladly shoulder.

My story is not completely one of hope or triumph, but neither is it finished. The depression is still there, an abyss always looming at the edge of my mind, held at bay by medication and the help of friends, family, and most especially a loving, attentive wife. Every day is a new struggle and every day is its own journey--some good, some closer to an emotional “Mister Toad’s Wild Ride.” I’m okay with that. I’ve made peace with who and what I am, the costs and the rewards. In the end, what more can anyone ask?

Post MidSouth

2011-03-31T13:36:00.001-05:00

Quick notes: home, not dead, sleeping this week. As always, a good convention run well. Thank you all.

"Who Shot Okk" now available in print

2011-03-09T13:00:00.003-06:00

Yes, I also do hard-boiled noir horror--because a multiple genre author is so much easier for an agent to represent. (Heavy sarcasm there.)

Unrelated, I'll be at Midsouth Con in Memphis this month where I'll probably be accidentally giving away spoiler information on the next book.

A consideration of a few of the possibilities within the Steampunk genre

2010-11-10T12:42:00.000-06:00

I think it will be interesting to see the development of certain themes in the steampunk genre over the coming years. Most steampunk uses a pseudo-Victorian era setting and this was a time that had several pronounced cultural issues at work. The oppression of women and open racism were the accepted norm and an almost casual level of violence permeated most cultures of the time period. On the positive side, imperialism still held sway and the industrial revolution had not yet spread to completely subjugate the agrarian culture. Needless to say, by using this time period as a backdrop—a time period firmly straddling a whole host of cultural and social developments—the genre has huge potential to explore a vast number of issues. Right now, most steampunk works concentrate more on entertainment and action but the deeper, more thematic works will come as the genre grows.
One item that specifically interests me will be the push and pull between feminism and misogyny within the genre. There is a possible historic template in the development of science-fiction and fantasy that may play out here as well. Both SF and fantasy were originally male oriented (and male dominated) genres. So much so that entire subsections of fantasy were labeled by critics as “male masturbatory literature” (for example, Robert Howard’s Conan stories, the Horse Clans series, and John Norman’s Gor books). In time, however, dames pushed their way into the genre and began to assert their own views, both as writers and as an ever-increasing portion of the reading (buying) market. Eventually the pendulum swung so far that, by the time LeGuin and Bradley were big names, mainstream fantasy was more of a vehicle for feminist propaganda than actual good storytelling. (Okay, maybe I generalize a little much and maybe, just maybe, I’m tweaking some people by using terms like “dames” but the general point is a sound one.) Today, the genre has mostly leveled out although it still leans “female” because of the shift in buying power within the market (more women buy books than men).
But, will this happen in steampunk? Obviously the misogynistic elements are readily apparent in the oppressive, paternalism of the Victorian era but will history repeat itself? I don’t know. One could argue against it because the current steampunk movement already has a strong female presence among both writers and readers. Cherie Priest certainly doesn’t skimp on strong women as characters in her books.
However, there is the extenuating fact that steampunk is not only a literary genre but also an aesthetic—that it includes and plays to a certain visual style bringing in influences outside just the written word. If you examine steampunk fans at public gatherings and the outfits they wear, you will notice that the women are not, as a rule, rejecting the physical symbols of Victorian oppression. Rather, they are embracing them—corsets and painful shoes are in abundance. What does it mean, if it is relevant at all? I don’t know and that’s why I’m interested in watching the trends.
It may be that the costuming is irrelevant to the literature but steampunk relies heavily on the aesthetic for much of its current definition. Will the genre split and create an eroticized sub-category or will the possible issues be completely swept under the rug by the strong tide of homogenization that seems to swamp any new and emerging artistic trend? Could it be that sometimes chicks just like to be frail and frilly and that there’s nothing intrinsically misogynistic about it?
Cynically, one might ask if it is relevant at all because steampunk may be a short-lived fad and nothing more. I doubt this for three reasons. One, although not labeled as steampunk, this style has always been present and used in SF/F. Two, because steampunk does span beyond just literature into apparel, music, and the like, and therefore it has a stronger base and a wider audience footprint than one might suspect. And three, because steam is one of the cheapest special effects to create and movies and TV drive most of the entertainment industry—simple economics predicts longevity.
Perhaps a more significant issue might be why the genre is so appealing. SF/F, so long noted for looking forward, is now clearly turning back and focusing on a previous, and one might say more comfortable, and more structured time. Does this indicate a growing fear of technology and a society that on some level fears it is losing control of its own devices? Is it a kind of literary nostalgia for a “better time”? A reaction to an overwhelming array of gadgets and internet connectivity invading into our personal lives?
Or is it a generation finally waking up to the fact that the age of Imperialism was a fascinating time in the development of Western culture and therefore a great setting for exciting stories?
As I’ve said, I don’t know but I think the answers may be worth looking for.

Alternative payment structures for authors in an internet based economy now that the royalty structure may be obsolete

2010-11-07T12:41:00.000-06:00

In one of the panels at Conclave, the question was asked: now that royalty payments are infeasible, how are writers going to get paid? Are there any new ideas out there? The question didn’t get answered and I thought I’d address it here.
Let me explain a bit of the background to the issue. Traditionally, writers are paid royalties, an amount of money per book sold. This is usually around 4-6% of the cover price so when you buy a seven dollar paperback, the author gets an amount around 35 cents. (Numbers vary depending on binding and other factors.) Needless to say, you have to sell a lot of books to make money. (Typically, the author is paid an up-front “advance against royalties” and then starts getting royalty payments after the advance is “earned out”. The average advance is somewhere around five thousand dollars per book and most authors don’t earn out. As a rule of thumb, if you assume that your local author is getting five to seven grand a book total, you’ve got a pretty good view of the writing economy. Don’t quit your day job.)
The problem with the royalty model in an internet based economy (and the reason that most writers expect that something will have to change) is the e-book. E-books are cheap and getting cheaper. I could go off on a rant about how the real problem is that the market doesn’t see the creative effort of writing a book as having monetary value and therefore thinks the only real costs are in paper but that’s not the point. The point is, if an author can’t make a decent living on 5% of seven bucks, then 5% of two bucks isn’t worth the effort to write the book. (Think of it: one morning someone invents an internet application and suddenly you take an almost 80% pay cut.) So something’s got to change in the way authors get paid, but what?
The answer is: nobody knows. In the near-term, it’s going to get worse before it gets better. There will be a lot of different things tried, some better than others, and a lot of places will stick with the royalty model as long as possible.
But the question was asked if there are any other feasible alternatives that anyone has considered and I believe there is one—one that has the advantage of having been used successfully before.
Patronage.
Before dismissing the idea as crazy, hear me out. Patronage has a fine history in the arts. After all, Dante didn’t write the Inferno on spec. Nobles patronized artists, artists provided books, music, paintings, sculptures, and so on to please their patrons and life went on. I know some people will yell that patronized art is corrupted and not true to the artists visions but, frankly, these people don’t know very much about the market or history. In actuality, patronage provides for a wider range of expression because, instead of having to cater to a marketing demographic or federal grant program, the artist only has to please one person—their patron—and individuals have much broader tastes and tolerances than homogenized cultures.
But are there enough rich people willing to patronize and make the idea work? Let’s go back to history. Why did the nobility and the church patronize artists to begin with? Some were altruistic but most were after two simple things: propaganda and public image. Either art to support and promote a specific agenda or art so that the common man would say “Well, that baron supports this theater and that writer and these paintings and even though I ain’t happy with the taxes, at least he ain’t such a bad feller all the way around. Let’s put off the revolt until next week.”
Now go watch TV for a few minutes and look at the ads. Notice that a lot of them aren’t for products or services; they’re general touchy-feely our company isn’t evil, we’re your friend kind of ads. In other words, public image ads. That tells you that the market and the money are there. You have a clear potential, no only for individual patronage, but also patronage by charitable organizations, foundations, schools, research institutes, and the entire scope of corporate America.
Let’s make it even more fun. Let’s say that a corporation decides to sponsor an author and that they make a portion of that author’s writing (and maybe that author’s time) available for free to schools and libraries. Think about it. On every bookshelf, from bookstores to supermarkets, the sponsor’s corporate logo has replaced the publisher’s imprint (massive brand exposure) plus now it’s going into schools and libraries too. Why wouldn’t a corporation spring for that? You could buy a dozen authors for the price of a Super Bowl ad.
And what about stocks? What if you could buy a percentage of your favorite author? If a group of you could go together, buy stock in an author, and jointly support his or her work? Especially is the author threw in some nice bonuses like signed first edition copies for all stock holders, exclusive beta reads and deleted scenes, character cameos of preferred holders, etc.? We could end up with a much broader market selection that we have now where only two major publishers rule most of the field.
I’m not saying it’s going to happen and I’m not saying whether it would be good or bad for society but I am saying that it is a plausible, feasible alternative.

Very good recent books

2010-11-04T12:40:00.000-05:00

I haven’t had a chance to do quality book reviews for a couple of recent books that I really liked but I don’t want them to be overlooked either. Instead, let me give you a quick capsule look at some books that really impressed me.

The Dream of Perpetual Motion by Dexter Palmer
The book is classified as steampunk and one of the cover blurbs calls it “steampunk comes of age”. The statement is fair as far as it goes but I think this is one of those books that transcends simple classification and is simply good literature. Think Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby with steampunk trappings retelling Shakespeare’s The Tempest and you’ve got a thumbnail view of the book. This is one of those books that I finished and said, “I can’t write like that. That was art with the capital A.” I’m not sure if it’s fair to say I enjoyed it as much as I was very impressed with it (it’s a grim book so it’s kind of hard to enjoy per se). I do think that if you are a fan of or writer of the steampunk genre, you should make the time to read this book.

The Monstrumologist by Rick Yancy
I like monster horror so this book was right up my alley—monster horror in Victorian era America. Even more impressive was that this book was scary and let’s be honest, not much that is classified as horror is scary these days except for psychological horror (which is too scary but in a different way). This book I enjoyed immensely although I have one small quibble. It’s classified as a YA book. I think it’s a bit too gory for that but that’s where you’ll probably find the book in your library. Good monster ecology in this book adds a great extra level of realism as well. Definitely a good read.

Non-Fiction Writing and Marketing

2010-11-01T12:35:00.000-05:00

I was asked during the convention how one went about writing and marketing non-fiction. I’m not the best person to ask; I’ve done a goodly bit of non-fiction writing in my time but the market changes rapidly and most of what I have done has been very focused, technical non-fiction as opposed to commercial non-fiction. (My beloved child bride that I stole away from the foreign tribes has been after me to write commercial non-fiction for years but I still resist.) Ne’ertheless, I promised to see what I could put together by way of suggestions and references.
Compared to fiction, non-fiction is all good news. The pay is better, the markets are more abundant, and there are plenty of books in most libraries. I don’t think the libraries planned to emphasize non-fiction in their selection of books on writing and formatting; it just happens that most people who write those books freely mix fiction and non-fiction information, and non-fiction is easier to talk about in generalities. So, stop number one: local library and you should be able to find a good stock of books on format, style, etc. The internet is also full of references (search terms like “writing non-fiction”, “formatting non-fiction”, “non-fiction footnote endnotes”, etc.) Also take this time to research your competition. See what’s already on the shelves and who is publishing what you want to write.
This information will give you a general over-view of the different techniques used in non-fiction. What it will not do is tell you what to write, give you markets, or put it all together and tell you what to write and how to write it for a specific market. That is your responsibility.
First off, decide what you want to write and, more importantly in non-fiction, what you are qualified to write about. Qualifications are important to a lot of non-fiction publishers; no degree or special experience, no reason for them to trust your information to be complete or accurate. Whether it’s fair or not, that seems to be the general trend. (On the other hand, some areas are relatively generic but I’m not going to get distracted talking about women’s magazines and that content.) The key thing you’ll want to think about is: Why you? What makes you uniquely qualified to write about this subject and makes your work better and distinct from all the other people who are also writing about it? Sometimes that means saying, “I have a doctorate in theoretical nuclear chemistry” and sometimes it means saying, “I can write about Cleveland because I have lived here for fifty years and seen the changes over time” but you should always be able to answer that questions. (In some cases, the answer might even be, “I think this subject is fascinating so I’ve researched it to death and I have a real passion for it.” That’s a good answer too although it might be a bit harder to sell.)
Having decided what to write, when do you write it? In fiction, unless you’re established as a writer, everything you do will be on speculation (i.e. total freelance). Non-fiction is not always that way. Non-fiction buys a lot of things on query. What order you do things in is up to you and your market but my suggestion would be to at least write a complete draft first. You may have to do a complete rewrite to fit the style guide of a specific publication later but that kind of thing is a lot easier than sitting down and writing cold. (My lovely wife disagrees and advises to query first. If you’re a regular reader, you already know whose advice counts for more.)
In fiction, the cover letter is almost irrelevant to a submission; in non-fiction, it is the main selling point. One of the things you should have picked up from the how-to books is how to write a cover letter and query for non-fiction. I know it seems out of order, but I would suggest that you should be able to put your proposal into a query (or abstract) before you even start looking for markets. Otherwise, you may not have a clear enough grasp of what you’re selling to place it effectively.
Finally, markets. I put this off until last because it’s a big subject but it is not necessarily the last thing you want to consider. You might want to look at markets first to get a feel for what is out there and then go back to actually writing the article or book. Like with query letters, I’m not much help here; this isn’t my area and everyone works differently. But I can tell you that if you’re interested enough in a non-fiction topic to want to write it then you probably have books and magazines about it already handy around the house. Some magazines include a thumbnail of their submission guidelines. Most don’t but will, in turn, have them on the publisher’s website. If not there, then you can search the internet for terms like “non-fiction market listings” or “Magazine name submission guidelines”. The be-all end-all of market listings for everything is the LMP, the Literary Market Place. Your library should have one. (If they don’t, they should be able to get it for you through inter-library loan. If no place in your library system has it, then yell at the thieving buggers and tell them to stop wasting your tax money on bloody paranormal romance and cookbooks and provide the blasted service they were created for. Feel free to add your own expletives as seems appropriate.) The reason I insist on getting access to the LMP through your library is that it is expensive and you need an up-to-date copy. Once you’ve got the LMP in hand, you can find almost any market for any thing. Tailor your query (or full submission) to the publisher’s guidelines and good luck to you.
As an afterward, let me mention corporate work and work-for-hire. This is when a company hires you to write stuff for them, anything from the employee handbook to a company newsletter to the operating manual for their software. You may hear people who write this kind of thing called “technical writers” and, for this kind of work, you need to deal with the company directly since you are basically saying, “Here am I, a writer. Pay me and tell me what to write.” You get this kind of work much like you do any other job: convince the person hiring that you’re the one for them, and then work from their specs with their people. Usually, they will want a local person or someone already affiliated in some way with the company. It’s not glamorous but it’s good work (and better pay) if you can get it.

Some key references:
The Literary Market Place
Writing for Dollars by John McCollister
The Thorncroft Learning Center Workshop: The Business of Writing (I believe one of these workshops is due to be held in Missouri sometime around the end of November.)

How do your favorite writers maintain tension in books where physical action and danger are delayed from the start of the book?

2010-10-29T12:30:00.001-05:00

The book I’m working on now has what I see as a problem and I’m not sure how to fix it. Simply put, the driving tension of the book doesn’t become clear until we’re a few chapters in but I want the book to have a fast, strong start.
Normally, physical action and danger (to the characters and to other people) drive my books from the beginning. In this one, the danger is there but they don’t know about it yet so the main characters are investigating the mysteries facing them at a less than frantic pace. Realistic, but not, I think, really grabbing for the reader.
I’d like to look at how other authors have handled this kind of situation before and I’m looking for suggestions on who you have read that you think has done this kind of thing well.

Conclave and a Review of Calamity's Child

2010-10-15T12:09:00.002-05:00

I am home, safe and mostly sound, from Conclave and I will, eventually talk about the convention (I've finally given up on trying to do full convention reports since I still haven't even talked about Conclave from last year). In short, the convention and all the people there were wonderful and if there was a weak link, it was me. Because I'm having even worse than usual health problems, I was heavily medicated and tired. I don't feel like I gave the people who attended the writing workshop the attention, energy, and extended feedback that they deserved and for that I apologize. Fortunately, they know that they can always follow up with me by email later for as long as they need. (You guys do know that, right?)

I would also like to point to a review I found sitting in my in-box when I returned from the convention that made me happy and inflated my already dangerously large ego. The review is of Calamity's Child and it's over at http://christianscifiandfantasyreview.webs.com/ . (Hope that link posts in correctly.) I'm always happy when people feel my books were worth their time and money.

Thank you to everyone and I'm off to get more sleep.

MKeaton

PS: I know that my "interweb pressence" is woefully short of what is considered normal these days. We are taking some steps and bringing in some additional staff to address this and we'll be talking about it on the blog shortly. One of the things I want to do is to give you, my readers, what you actually want rather than try to follow the prevailing paradigms because "that's what is done and that's what markets" so don't be surprised when I start asking questions. Thank you again.

New Book: Dreams of Steam

2010-09-08T13:54:00.002-05:00

Why yes, I am in this anthology. And it's out now. Go to your bookstore and ask for a copy (or order on line if you'd rather.)

Bookdrive update

2010-08-27T12:41:00.003-05:00

Just to let everyone interested know, the first 15 boxes of books shipped out today for the military. (I perfer not to say where; I probably could but I'm unsure and not taking any chances.)

I promised to let you know the mechanics involved so here was today. Get requests and fill boxes according to type of books and magazines desired. Fill out customs forms and also write the addresses on the lids of the boxes themselves (in case the customs forms get knocked off in shipping, the Post Office likes when you do that). Drive 15 big ol' boxes to the Post Office and lug them in. Have them weighed and customs forms stamped and fastened on top. (This is like shipping a bunch of Christmas presents or any other sending of a passel of big boxes all at once. You block up the line and there's a lot of lifting so try to pick a time when the PO isn't busy and warn them in advance that you're coming if you can.) Pay big money (in this case, 15 boxes was just under $400). And that's it. Packages away and hopefully they'll arrive safe and sound (use lots of tape on the boxes to hold them together, just in case).

Now I start boxing up the next round.

MK

(Special thanks to Ron and Kimba Wilson and Glenn and Jo Ann Keaton who donated postage to help cover the costs.)

Basic Update--A whining day

2010-08-20T12:27:00.003-05:00

Crazy, frustrating times. "Calamity's Child"'s publisher has vanished into the ether so I have no idea what's going on with the promotion and distribution of the book.

Been sorting books for the book drive and will have the first 15 boxes or so going out in the next week. (more on that when it happens)

And I need geek services. With internet only through my long-suffering library, I keep coming back to the conviction that there has to be a cheap, simple way to get net access even though I live without cable access or a telephone line. Cell phone towers are up and I can even get 'net through my phone (though expensive and little bitty). So, how do people off-grid get the net? There's got to be a way and I think I'm just a little to luddite to know the latest tech. (Suggestions appreciated.)

That's all I got. I ain't dead; I'm just really tired and over half-way done with a book I don't even know if the publisher still wants or not.

Sorry for whining. Some days complaints are all there is for news and it's been too long since I updated.

Quantum Irrationality (100th post)

2010-07-06T13:04:00.000-05:00

Quantum Irrationality

I’ve seen such a plethora of new-age-hippie-self-help-guru-pat-the-bunny-fuzzy-logic pap that tries to combine the old “rub your tantric chakras together for fun and profit” with a scientific patina of “deliberately misunderstand Quantum Mechanics and Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle” that I decided I should get in on the gravy train before the rubes got a clue and it was time for the charlatans to go on the lam (fat chance of that). Look for me on Oprah soon!

The underlying premise of these books is to take a really weak understanding of Quantum Physics and apply it to philosophy (preferably, a pet philosophy you already have lying around and like to use to impress the dames). So, without further ado, I present to you:

Quantum Irrationality, a New Breakthrough in the Study of the Mind and Retroactive Self-Justification

As we all know, Heisenberg worked with the Ancient Maya developed what is now commonly called the Uncertainty Principle. This principle states, in essence, that the act of observing an object alters the properties of said object. Specifically, observing position alters velocity, observing velocity alters location, and in a stunning revelation location is roughly interchangeable with position so long as the switch is not observed. The Secret Government does not want you to have this information but, these rediscoveries of ancient Lemurian truths are not just applicable to mechanistic objects but to your daily life. Quantum Irrationality (QI) can enhance your spiritual well-being and lead you to a higher understanding of the world around and into an advanced state of mental awareness. In addition, this final step in the evolution of the human consciousness will also guarantee you financial prosperity, less stress, regular and fulfilling bowel movements, and mind-blowing multi-orgasmic sex. [Warning: Repeated applications of multi-orgasmic sex may result in accidental tantric trans-dimensional translation.]

Chances are, you have already experienced QI in your own life. It is common knowledge that the more people you have looking for an object, the faster it can be found—frequently in a location you have already searched. This is because when you, as a singular observer, attempted to discern the position of the object, by observing it, you altered its velocity thereby causing it to move away from your gaze. But when multiple observers were employed, the overlapping field of energies generated by the group synchronicity created a pattern of “strange attractors” that glued the lost object into place. Once you understand, it’s that easy. With an understanding of QI supplemented by the liberal application of herbal attenuators, the key to the mysteries of the universe are yours to command.

The most significant recent development in the study of QI was the discovery in the Fifty-Second Veda of the Eddaic Groomba of Bohr that since observation alters, it is possible to become aware of the properties of an object by a studied program of apathy. If one does not care about the properties of an object, eventually one of these datum, either location or velocity, will project itself into your conscious or subconscious mind—an “end-around” of the Uncertainty Principle! Think, in your own life, how often have you been sitting in the comfortable Zen bliss of mindless television-based meditation when suddenly you “remember” that you have a tasty piece of chocolate cake just sitting in the refrigerator? This is Bohr’s Apathy and QI at work. Sadly, once you remember the cake, you become interested in its location and are doomed therefore to impart it with velocity thereby making it impossible to actually find the cake when you look for it but this is a minor detail that later QI studies will most certainly hammer out (another good reason to subscribe to our QI newsletter).

You have probably noticed that the longer you stare at an attractive member of the opposite sex, the faster they move away from you. You’ve been making a classic QI mistake in your approach to mating. By observing position, you have imparted velocity. Now that you know better, employ the reverse. Grab him or her and impart a velocity (such as toward your waiting van in the parking lot) and you will have achieved control over position! Further in you have equipped your transcendence van with a GPS monitor, the Global Positioning System will constantly observe your position, imparting additional velocity to your van when the Secret Government attempts to intervene in your attempts to initiate your new acolyte into the mysteries of Quantum Irrationality.

Though we can’t give away the entire secrets of Atlantis, Lemuria, and New Jersey blindly on the internet, we can, through covert hints with shady characters and a six-figure book deal eventually lead you to a full understanding of QI. But time is short, the world will end in November of 2012. (You may have heard that the actual date predicted by the Maya is in December but this is disinformation propagated by the military-industrial complex to prevent public panic before their own operatives can use the wonders of QI to frame the new coming world-age into their own twisted image. Don’t be fooled.)

Not since ancient astronauts brought the technology of “chittlings” (know to the ancient Aztecs as Citlz), has a discovery offered such potential for abuse and profit. The ability to force world peace and impose your mental dominion over the planet to bring about freedom via the alignment of your chakras and your happy benevolent thoughts of tolerance of all non-intolerable beliefs lies within your grasp.

To save the future, you must act now, flooding the newly-founded QI Institute for Unlimited Internet and Television Appearances and a Big Fat Book Deal with money and support! QIIUIT (ABFBD) needs your help.

Book Drive Update

2010-06-03T14:44:00.002-05:00

The response to the book drive was considerably better than what the bookstore staff had expected and, honestly, a bit above my own expectations as well. I would estimate that we're going to be sending out about the same number of boxes as we did after the ConClave book drive--about 40 boxes or so. I've been sorting through the books to get some idea of the types and it is interesting to see the difference between the two drives. ConClave was heavy in paperback classic sci-fi and fantasy (not a surprise) while this drive is largely newer, hardback popular fiction. But, and this is a huge bonus, there are a lot of westerns (very popular). I even saw a few familys come into the bookstore with their children to buy books expressly for the book drive. Thank you especially for that. I also learned from the staff at Hastings that someone had conducted their own drive at their place of work and then dropped the books off at the store before I got there on Saturday. I never even got to see this paerson and yet they made a huge contribution to the drive. Thank you and everyone you work with (and feel free to post and let me know who and where).

So, where does that leave the drive itself? The short answer is, now I look for group requests over at BooksforSoldiers that match the types of books recieved, box up the books for shipping, fill out the customs forms, and start sending them out. That's going to go a lot slower than I'd like and it will probably take a few months before they're all sent. Why? Well, for one thing, my available manpower is limited and another is the sheer volume of donations exceeded what we were ready to handle. But the other thing that will slow the process is that while the good, literate people of the Ozarks and the staff at Hastings did a good job in getting the word out and the books in, our appeals for corporate supporters was met with an unusual deafening silence. Maybe it's the economy or maybe it's that the war isn't a "sexy, marketable" cause these days or maybe it's just bad timing but the end result is, I'm financing the postage myself. I'm not complaining because I always plan on that but it does mean that I can't ship everything all at once.

Some of you may wonder how much it costs to send a box of books. I use boxes that are about the size of a case of paper for each requests and, since it's all books, I'm able to mail it all media rate. That puts the cost per box at about 20 dollars. All in all a really good rate because these boxes are heavy. For those who don't know, by the way, APO and FPO addresses are considered domestic for postal rates so that helps as well.

Filling out customs forms sounds a lot scarier than it actually is. I simply go down to the post office in little Hindsville Arkansas, tell the Post Mistress what I'm sending out and she hands me the forms I need (you can also download them off the web). You fill out your name and address and then where it's going (the form also acts as a mailing label) check a few boxes to answer some basic handling questions (Like, if the person it's adressed to isn't there anymore, should the box be returned, thrown away, or left with the current resident--obviously since the military folks rotate in and out, I always check leave with resident), and finally, there's a section that says "What's in here?" and the answer is "Books" and a rough estimate of the number. Easy.

You may ask, "Can I sponsor a box or two?" and the answer is "Well, yes, I feel uncomfortable taking your money but give it go me and I'll pay the postman." But don't worry about that, just be patient and I'll keep updating everyone as the boxes go out.

Since I've been sick for the last week and the heat is horrid here (and no AC in the storage building with the books) I would estimate that the first wave of shipments will go out around the middle of June and nearing July, hopefully to arrive around the holiday.

Book Drive Info

2010-05-22T14:37:00.001-05:00

Okay, today is the book drive and I'm setting at a table in Hasting trying (and failing) to be charming and congenial. Since not everyone can do a book drive or might want to do it differently than me, I'm going to give you just a few of the places you can go and look to find more information on how to donate, write letters, send care packages, etc.

BOOKSFORSOLDRS.COM (My #1 go-to people since they handle individual and group requests)

Nmam.org (National Military Appreciation Month and they also link to a lot of other useful places)

Militarymoms.net

Warletters.com

USO.org

Operationmilitarypride.org (another favortite of mine)

And of course, someone around here will eventually answer any questions you email in if we can help. In fact, I think we even have a brocheure (or however you spell it) on what to put in a care package and the best ways to send them that we'll send out for a SASE (or maybe we can email the pdf, I don't know, the cat's dead and I don't know squat about all this interweb stuff but I'm sure it'll get sorted out once it gets here, just be patient.)

So, now we see how it goes.

Book Drive Info

2010-05-20T14:17:00.002-05:00

I've had enough questions about doing book drives (and other charity work) for the military that I thought this current drive would be a good idea to walk through the steps of how I do it. Note, this is how I do it; not how it should be done or the only way to do it or even the best way to do it.

Let's start where I am right now. I've partnered with a local bookstore for this drive to increase visibility and give people a reliable drop-off point. In preparing for this, I've spent about 200 bucks in printing posters, direct mailings, and other advertising kinds of things to make sure people know about it. Honestly, you don't have to go to all that trouble. I just happen to have enough interested people in the area that it's a justified expense. (I also include a signed copy of one of my books in each box of books that we send out dedicated to the person who made the request for books for the rest of their squad. It's an additional cost and not one that the average person will incur but, well, it's what I like to do.)

Also to increase visibility, I've sent a press release to the major news stations and papers in the area. (An aside: Thank you NWA Star Shopper--I think that's the biggest ad I've ever had donated and I'm very appreciative.) Finally, I've hit up the various publishers and local authors I know to see if they want to help.

Basically, to get read for the book drive itself, I've made sure that I can get the word out that it's happening every way I can think of.

Does that mean it will succeed? Who knows. That part is out of my hands and up to the local people. I can say that, even though the book drive isn't until Saturday, I've already got two boxes of books at my place that have been donated in advance, the bookstore (Hastings in Springdale Arkansas) has told me they already have a stack that people have been bringing in, and Alan Gilbreath at Kerlack publishing has offered to help make up any shortfall I have.

From here, we get boxes ready and wait.

Some people might want to go ahead and get together their requests and adresses that they're going to send books to. I used to but I don't anymore; now I wait until I've got the books. Reason is, I use the fine people at Books For Soldiers (booksforsoldier.com) to provide me with requesters and adresses and I've found that it's easier to match requests and boxes of books up after I know what I have to work with. That's up to you. I know it saves a lot of time if you start filling out customs forms, etc. in advance but I've done this often enough that I feel comfortable waiting.

Status Update

2010-05-14T14:00:00.002-05:00

I've had several people wondering just what the heck is going on in my personal life (vis a vis moving et. al.). Well, let me try to bring it current but it's a mess.

Dad's got six acres, I have two. They're adjacent and, for logistics sake, it was decided that we'd bring Dad's functional before I started on mine. So, we have electricity to the front six and a road. Drilled a well (five-hundred feet and sulfur water-dammit). Finally, installed a septic system. Right now I'm living out of a travel trailer sitting on the front six getting ready to go to work on mine. Should have electricity run back to the back within a week or two and then I'll be out of money. Running water to the back from the well and putting in septic will run around four grand and that has to be done before I can move the trailer back...and that's all before I can start building a house.

In between, I have to write about twenty books and coordinate the May book drive. If you want to see me do many public appearances and travelling this year, I humbly suggest you feed the cat.

Hopefully, that catches everyone up.

Military Appreciation Month and Book Drive

2010-05-05T13:37:00.000-05:00

May is Military Appreciation Month, a time to honor and remember the men and women who serve our country and keep it safe. On May 22, Hastings in conjunction with local author M. Keaton are hosting a drive to collect new and gently used books to be shipped to our troops. Donations may be dropped off at the store. It’s as simple as that—you bring in the books and someone else will take care of sorting and shipping. Clean up your cluttered book shelves at home or buy new books at the store, either way this is a great opportunity for everyone in the Northwest Arkansas region to show their support and give a little something back to those who give so much for all of us. (Worried about what books you can donate? Common sense rules apply. No propaganda or overtly religious books or tracts and, by request of the troops, no romance.)

MidSouthCon this Weekend

2010-03-08T12:30:00.002-06:00

Once again I take to the road. I'm off to MidSouthCon in Memphis, TN. (Actually, just south of Memphis but close enough.) If anyone happens to be in the area, I'd love to see you there, just come on up and say 'hi'.

MKeaton

Global Warming

2010-03-02T13:28:00.000-06:00

Normally, I try to avoid politics but this is a special case and a subject that I've been involved with for a long time.

I’ve been watching the science news patiently for the past year and I think it is now quite clear to anyone willing to consider the facts, the scientific support for the political fraud of global warming has collapsed. Glacieral data has been discredited, warming trends have been shown to not exist and the planetary temperature constant since the mid-nineties, and the unacceptable shredding of data to avoid Freedom of Information acts are only the most recent of the collapsing dominoes. Man-made global warming has been shown to be a hoax and the faked and “manipulated” data casts serious doubt on the premise of any global warming at all outside of the routine cyclic trends that occur naturally.

This has been something I’ve been fighting since the early 1990s when I began to work as an environmental scientist and learned that Freon was outlawed, not for any environmental or chemical reasons (despite the public propaganda) but because the exclusive patent had expired—or, if not, the timing was very suspicious and the ban counterproductive. (For those who doubt that it was counterproductive, I ask you to consider that, one the one hand, we have no proof that CFCs ever affected the ozone layer while, one the other, it is abundantly clear that the need to stop using the economical and compact Freon cooling systems and change to the more expensive and larger alternative systems significantly reduced the ability of the world’s aid organizations to distribute medicines to the third world.)

A decade of environmental analysis served only to strengthen my conviction that the science was flawed and yet, the amount of grief I had to endure from other (non-environmental non-climatologically) scientists and laymen was fascinating. Despite the mounting evidence to the contrary, such as the demonstration that increased levels of atmospheric carbon dioxide was a result of increased temperatures, not a cause, somehow I was a bad scientist and a luddite for rejecting what was, from the first, a political rather than scientific dogma.

And now the hoax is falling completely to pieces. Certainly, the religious believers in global warming will ignore the facts and continue to hold to their belief but it’s time for science to move on with data rather than bias. For my own part, I am currently accepting apologies and promise to try not to mock those who fell for the con game too harshly.

Okay, I'm nuts. Get over it.

2010-02-28T13:25:00.000-06:00

Something happened the other day that illustrates some of the small difficulties in putting up with someone whose brain works the way mine does. It’s no secret that I’m “hyper-linear” and overly literal but it crops up in strange and often amusing ways. You see, there’s a commercial running on the radio that starts out “Men, are you having trouble urinating? Going more frequently? Waking up at night to urinate?” and then it goes on to promote a pill that will solve these problems. My response was, to me, perfectly reasonable. I looked to my good lady wife and said, “Why would anyone want to buy a pill that makes you wet the bed?”

She gave me a look. Not the dreaded The Look but a look, one of the useful stock that she keeps just for me. This was the look that says “Are you really that dumb or are you teasing me?” and, as always, the answer is “Yes, he’s that dumb.” She then proceeds to explain to me that this is a pill to reduce prostate swelling and that idea is the pill stops waking up by removing the need, not making you wet the bed. I’m quick to defend myself by pointing out that my interpretation is quite logical and my lovely bride is nice enough to concede that the commercial could have been phrased better.

The ugly fact is, this kind of thing is much more common than it should be. I’m sure neurotypicals will be quick to point out that the problem is in my mental function but I reject this explanation. Word mean thing and should be used with precision. (Although I will concede, sometimes the needle in my mental record jumps the groove.)

Random

2010-02-25T13:22:00.002-06:00

I'm still in the process of moving so today I thought I'd clear up on of those small things that people get wrong (even in books) that really irritates me.

CHICKENS WILL LAY EGGS IRRESPECTIVE OF THE PRESENCE OF A ROOSTER!

Yes, it's a true, biological fact. Now, go thy way and write stupidness no more.

Booksigning

2010-02-15T15:06:00.003-06:00

Assuming anyone is curious, the booksigning went well. I wish I had sold one more copy of "Calamity's Child" though. If I had, the store would have been sold out (including the extra stock they ordered in especially for the signing). Now if the book drive for the military goes half as well in May (at the same store) then all will be well. I'll post the details of that once we have them.

Let me just say a quick "thank you" to everyone who came out. I appreciate the support and I absolutely love when enough people show up for a book signing that it intimidates the store's management.

MK

Bah, some storm. New signing date

2010-02-01T15:07:00.002-06:00

We had a very bad storm--for a day. Just enough to delay the signing but not enough to knock out the power. (My water is frozen but that just means that it's a month that ends in Y or R.)

New date for the Arkansas Hastings signing is February 13th.

Words is his craft

2010-01-31T13:32:00.000-06:00

I finished reading a book yesterday that was unremarkably bad, just one more bit of the mendacity that comprises modern “literature”. It did, however, contain a description that I thought was worth passing along for your consideration:

“Sheep dotted the hillside like wool.”

Saturday Signing

2010-01-28T13:28:00.002-06:00

Well, as anyone around here knows by now from the weather forcasts, we're supposed to have ice, snow, hail, and a cameo from at least one of the four horsemen this weekend (or we might just have a slow, drizzling rain--I don't trust weather forecasters that much). It looks very likely that the signing scheduled for this Saturday will be moved to next Saturday. If the weather is bad, stay home and be safe.

Also keep in mind that I'll be back at the same store in May (Military appreciation month) for signing and a military donation bookdrive so if you miss me this pass, I'll be back again in a few months for a really good cause.

MK

The Good Ol' Days

2010-01-12T13:54:00.001-06:00

I’m doing most of my writing now from my laptop, which is annoying because the keyboard is so small. Now, I’m not on a netbook or any tiny toy like that, I’m on a normal laptop with a “full-sized” keyboard. Problem is, it’s a “full-sized” computer keyboard and it’s flat and jammed together.

I’m old. I know it, I’m happy with it, I embrace my antiquity. It just causes small problems on occasion. For example: People looking over at me in the library and saying “Dude, what’re you trying to kill it?” I learned to type during a different time, the age of typewriters (during the “fire good, wheel patent-pending” era for you youngsters). Back then, we had keys that were actual keys and you’d better slap ‘em hard if you wanted a clear result. We had manual typewriters and, I must explain for the children, a manual typewriter is basically a set of levers with woodcuts of letter on one end and you smash down the other. The woodcut flies up (hopefully) to smack on the back of a ribbon (the fancy technical term for “piece of cloth soaked in ink-usually in two colors just to be helpful). Imagine your wife’s scrap booking stamping kit but made of metal for use by men.

It was a different era, a golden time when we were taught to strike hard and to actually spread our fingers out because the keys had to be far enough away from each other to avoid tangling up as you went. It was a time when accuracy was more important than speed because mistakes were fatal. Well, not directly fatal but indirectly because the stress and extra work of trying to fix a typographical error in those days would lead a man to an early grave. There was no “file”, no electronic copy. There was the sheet of paper in the machine and the fourteen carbons behind it and you had to hit hard enough to carry the ink through them all. In theory there were a dozen different ways to fix errors, from poisonous paint to cover your error to little sheet covered in carcinogens that you could retype over. But none of them fixed the carbons—you had to do that one at a time—and they all came with their own complicated ways to mess things up even worse. No, there was only one true way to fix a problem: rip the paper out of the machine, crumple it up in a ball, throw it over your shoulder, and start again. A successful author was judged based on how many wads of paper surrounded his chair. We didn’t have word count, publishers ordered manuscripts by the pound. At the end of a hard day, you’d have to shove through the waist-high debris to get to the door. Most of us just slept at our desks until our publishers sent someone over with dig us out and get the finished manuscript. The original Hugo trophy was a snow shovel!

We went through the paper in those days, ten or twelve sheets tossed to the floor for every page of clean manuscript copy. And there was no email or electronic submissions, everything had to be done by hand—reams of paper sent to the far edges of the earth to be inspected by monastic orders who lived in the mountains of Tibet and read slush. More than a handful of rejections for a book and you’d have to become a best-seller just to cover the investment in postage.

It was no time for the weak. With no fancy interweb, we did our research the hard way; we lived it. We learned police procedure by starting bar fights and spending a night in the tank. Sure, we did ride-alongs with the cops—from the back seat. Want to understand military strategy? Saddle up and ride with Teddy off to find a war. We were hard men in hard time in a hard job. Hemmingway used to eat other authors just to keep his strength up!

It was a time when authors were respected. Well, no, but we were feared! Today, tell someone that you’re an author and they nod. “That’s nice. My cousin wrote a cookbook and…” (I’ve never heard the end of that sentence; I don’t have the attention span.) In the golden days, say you were an author and men gasped, mothers pulled their children in off the streets, and neighborhood petitions were passed urging the city fathers to pay you to leave town. We were paid in paper, ink, and whiskey. We ate what we could catch—leaves, tree bark, slow neighborhood dogs. Children would disappear only to be found days later by desperate relatives; wandering like miniature Dr. Zhivago’s, the tops of their heads barely visible above the great blowing drifts of wadded paper filling the house. Where authors went, bad things followed.

Fire was the worst. Working neck deep in dry paper, sweating alcohol, and smoking like a chimney fires were common. More than a few of the best authors of the past were victims of spontaneous combustion. Our only defense was coffee. In those days, coffee only came in two flavors: solid and sludge depending on how long the pot had been sitting on the radiator. We didn’t have fancy frapees or mocawhatsits or special mild blends of roasted beans; we had a black gruel of battery acid, cigarette ashes, and burnt bread crumbs dumped out of the toaster. With enough coffee, a man could become fireproof, like old leather or half-petrified wood.

It hurt, a good hurt, the kind of hurt that tells a man he’s alive and that death will only come as a favor we’re not good enough to earn. We had lungs full of smoke, blood full of alcohol, heads and hearts burning with passion for the craft, and terminal heartburn in our guts.

That’s the problem with kids today; no fire in their bellies.

Update

2010-01-12T13:51:00.000-06:00

I said we might be off the air for a while. I underestimated “a while”. Without going into too much boring detail: still homeless and living out of a travel trailer, freezing, and working off the laptop. I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was horribly frustrating at best and it’s even harder to work, especially since I spend a good portion of my day making sure the water doesn’t freeze and/or thawing out frozen pipes. So, the more promising news:

Book Signing:
Hastings in Springdale AR
January 30
1-4pm.

And I’ve been invited back to MidSouth Con.

Oh, and we have a new kitten but I’m inclined to file that under “bad things”.

The Forester’s Tale, A Modern Parable

2009-10-30T11:04:00.000-05:00

The Forester’s Tale
A Modern Parable

Once there was a Forester who, with his lovely wife, had a small cottage. The Forester was a man of trees and understood the forest but his wife understood the smaller plants and flowers that make a house a home and she turned the area around the cottage into a fairyland of color. Though the Forester did not understand her work, by the time she was done, he had carried and toted and dug enough that he felt her plants to be his own and thus it was that both the Forester and his wife had a pleasant home surrounded by foliage they both adored.
Sadly, the Forester lived near a City. It was not a very big City, which may explain why it had such a terrible attitude and always acted horribly toward everyone it dealt with. The City did not like the Forester, for he was a different kind of man than it preferred, it did not like the Forester’s wife because she loved plants which it did not, and the City absolutely hated the Forester’s cottage because it was not the kind of thing the City would have built if it had owned the Forester’s land. And what the City did not control, it hated.
There was trouble from the beginning.
“Your grass is too long,” the City would yell at the Forester.
“I daresay, sir, no. Your grass is too short, for it is not long enough to hold sufficient water within its leaves and will burn and brown in the summer sun. To cut it shorter is to lose it all and harm the land.”
“Better that it be destroyed than different from what I wish,” growled the City. “Cut down those weeds”
“I daresay, sir, no. For those are not weed, they are day lilies, planted and beloved of my wife.”
“And those weeds there too!”
“Those you now insult are peonies, sir, and will soon flower a lovely pink. I shall not cut them for they are deliberate and things of beauty. Neither shall I cut the hyacinth nor the lilac which you also impugn. If you would but tarry a bit and listen, sir, I would tell you of each planting and why it is and then you, too, may have things of beauty for, forgive my saying so, your own lands are blasted ground and pavement. It is not hard, sir, and I will help if I can.”
“Better that it be destroyed,” roared the City, “than different from what I wish.” And so it went until the Forester learned to remain silent but he would not destroy the cultivations of his hands and the things of beauty on his land.
Now, the City had a ditch that ran against the back of the Forester’s land and, when the spring storms came, the sides of the ditch crumbled away and the City’s ditch flooded the Forester’s land. With reluctance, the Forester went to the City.
“Excuse me sir but your ditch has flooded my land,” the Forester explained. “Might I ask you to repair it?”
“There is nothing wrong with anything of mine,” the City replied. “The fault must be yours.”
“I daresay, sir, no. I have seen it with my own eyes as have my neighbors. We sought the council of the ditch diggers’ guild and their journeymen have inspected it as well. All agree that, indeed, the fault is yours.”
“There is nothing wrong with anything of mine,” the City thundered and drove the Forester away.
For days, the conversation was repeated until the Forester was of a mind to seek redress from the local Lord and the courts of Law. Then suddenly, strangely, the City declared that, though there was neither need nor reason, the City would rebuild his ditch but to reach it, he must come in through the Forester’s land.
The Forester thought the City’s behavior exceedingly strange but he did not argue. “Indeed, sir, you may cross my land to work upon your ditch. I ask only that you tread with such care as you can lest the cultivations of my land be unduly harmed.”
The City did not repair the ditch itself but sent other men to do it for him and these men came with heavy equipment, great noise, and no regard for the affairs of the Forester. Once their work was complete and they took their leave, the City’s hirelings left the land behind the Forester’s cottage a great torn gash of mud and rock and barren, hard-packed soil.
“Alas,” sighed the Forester’s wife, “all my work is ruined. The land is hurt too deep and shall now be as the City’s land, blasted land and pavement.”
“I daresay, wife, no,” the Forester answered. “You are wise in the way of the land and my back is yet strong enough. We shall rebuild and heal this land.”
But the City, having once set foot upon the Forester’s land, now began to command the Forester as if the Forester’s land was its own. “You will cut down this tree and root out these weeds as I have told you before.”
“I daresay, sir, no. This land is mine own and I shall care for it as I see fit.”
“Better that it be destroyed than different from what I wish,” spat the City and stomped away.
The Forester set to work, thinking the matter done, but soon the City returned, bringing with him a vassal of the local Lord who thought himself to speak with the voice of the Law.
“The City has told me of your defiance,” the vassal said, tying a blindfold across his eyes. “Now that I see for myself, I agree: better it be destroyed than different. Your land is a blight upon the kingdom.”
“I daresay, sir, no. This land is mine and my wife agrees with me that it is a place of beauty. It is no blight.”
The vassal laughed and handed the Forester a scrap of foolscap. “Now, it is a blight.”
The Forester looked at the parchment which read only: “Blight-weeds.”
“Cut down that tree, it is a blight,” ordered the City.
“I daresay, sir, no. It is an apple.”
“Tear this strange vine down here, and this one here too. Rip up this flowering thing that covers the ground and plant short grass instead. Burn down that pile of leaves there within that box, I find it ugly. And,” the City gasped in horror, “is that a garden?”
“The vine here is porcelain berry and this one here is wisteria. The flowering groundcover must stay. The grass will no longer grow here, for your hirelings have made the ground too low and wet. That box is not of leaves alone but compost that I may return health to the land you have injured and allow it to grow again. And, indeed, sir, it is a garden and for its success you may thank the compost bin which you find so ugly.”
“Destroy it!” the City screamed. “Destroy it all!”
“I daresay, sir, no. And twice again, no. You presume too much. By both Law of God and Man, you have no right to demand these things.”
The City’s hissed and glared. “I shall set this vassal to torment you. I shall speak lies of you in court and I shall devote my full attentions to the destruction of all which is yours.”
“As you will,” replied the Forester, “but I council you one final time toward wisdom. The land is afire with brigandry and war. Men go homeless and hungry upon your lands. These are dark days and you could do much good. But the choice is yours and I cannot make you do otherwise.”
The City did not heed these words and long years passed, filled with pain for the Forester and his wife for it was more important to the City to have its way than to do things both right and good until one day the Forester’s wife said to him, “Husband, this place will be death to you. With every day I see you grow older and weaker while the City does not age and his minions are endless. Let us go away and return to your people in the free lands of the south where you may regain your strength.”
“As always, wife, your council is wise but who shall watch the cottage to keep out the robbers while we are gone?”
“The Traveling Woman has no home. Let her come and stay within our cottage. In this we will all be well served.”
“You are wise indeed, beloved wife.”
And so the Forester and his wife left the lands of the City to rest and heal and the homeless Traveling Woman was given a home and all seemed, indeed, to be well.
And it should have been but, like most honest people, the Forester and his wife could not conceive of the selfish and evil depths creatures like the City can stoop to. The City went to the vassals and demanded that the Forester be punished because the Forester did not get permission from the City to let someone else stay in his cottage. “And surely,” the City told them, “he obtains money from her as well and we should receive a portion of this as well.” This was not true but, just as the Forester could not conceive of the selfish things the City would do, so too the City could not conceive that someone would act out of kindness or compassion. The City would never let someone stay upon its lands without paying a steep toll and therefore that was what the Forester must be doing as well.
By now, the vassals considered the City’s words to be the words of the Law, so they did not bother to seek the truth of the matter but instead ordered that the Forester be captured and placed in irons and that all his good and assets should be forfeit to the City. Mind you, the free peoples of the south would not raise hand against the Forester for he had done them no wrong and they were not such fools as the people of the City to believe everything the City said. Still, by this the City was able to continue its attacks upon the Forester and he continued to sicken.
Dear children, if this were a fairy tale, I would tell you of how a champion emerged to defend the Forester or how, with her vast wisdom, the Forester’s wife tricked the evil City with her cleverness or how the land itself rose up to drive the City away from the cottage and the Traveling Woman or how the City had a change of heart and chose to do those good and right things that were its duty and leave the Forester to live in peace, but, alas dear children, this is not a fairy tale, it is a parable. Unlike fairy tales, parables must show the world as it is.
So, the Traveling Woman was again without a home, the Forester and his wife were forced to remain with the southern free people, never to return to their cottage again, and the City got exactly what it wanted, as it always did, and was free to turn its attention to destroying someone else.
And now you know, dear children, why there are neither Foresters, Authors, nor any beauty in Center Line, Michigan.

For the Semi-Good Niece

2009-10-27T13:44:00.002-05:00

Dearest True,

Even as I left you, my health was declining and, upon my return to my own modest abode, I fell under the sway of a most vile pestilence. I therefore must communicate to you using this odd new-fangled grimcrack which seems to operate upon the waves of the ether (I am not certian of that; I rather suppose Mr. Edison would know better). Further, I must trust that you mother, obsessed as she is with all things electrographic, will turn up this rather misplaced missive and deliver to you my message. Let me apologize profusely for the lack of annotation and illustrative documentation that the nature of this medium prevents me from providing. (Perhaps it is for the best. After all, my dear, do you truly wish to have a sketch of "Evil Uncle succumbing to pustulation and mucosial discharge"? It may be that, even in the interests of science, so vistas remain obscured.)

To my point then with alacrity before the goodfellows expel my disease-ridden carcass from their lodge. I wish to let you know that I did indeed return to the McHO intact though somewhat the worse for wear and that I did survive being catapulted through the atmosphere as no man rightfully should. I firmly believe that man was not meant to fly and yet he does. Having experience in these matters, I believe the discomfort is necessary to offset the insult to the natural order--a kind of purgatory for our hubris. Further, I would have you know that I have recieved your own vastly informative missives and devoured their contents with great haste and pleasure. I find fault within your researches in but a singular instance. I believe that the correct designation for a discorpreated spirit residing in the temporal ether pending migration to either higher or lower plain for its final respite is "ghost" rather than "gost". On the other hand, this may be a matter of regional dialect and, if it does indeed prove to be true, you may have chanced upon a most profitable area of linguistic, ethnic, and anthropological lore to investigate further. I recommend to you that you also consider additionally the possible alternative spelling of "ghast". While these all share a similar root in the Teutonic/Scandinavian phonetics, I do think that "ghoul" is sufficiently established within the Hungarian to be safely excluded from your search. Perhaps I am wrong on this and if so, what a discovery awaits you. Follow your instincts on this and do keep me abreast of your researches.

For now, I return to my sick bed. Not to worry. Carry on, stiff upper lip, pip-pip, and all that.

I remain,
your Evil Uncle

Advice for the lovelorn

2009-09-04T17:05:00.000-05:00

While things are in tumult, I thought I'd take some time out to offend people. Hence, I offer my opinions on marriage.

I am seeing just way too many nice young girls marrying men I flat disapprove of and so, as a public service, I have taken it upon myself to provide a short guide for making sure the man you want is a good man. And, for the record, in order to make sure you get the best of the best, I’m going to insult just about every married guy I know including myself because ain’t none of us perfect.

First off, ladies, consider where you found him. Don’t go looking for men because the only place most of you think of to look for them is the worst place to find them. Don’t date a man that you meet at a place you don’t want him to be at after you marry him. If you meet him at a bar or a disco, you don’t want him (and what are you doing there to start with?). His environment already tells you his character. Try a more wholesome environment like a rodeo or a NASCAR race or, better yet, find a guy that’s volunteering to help at the VFW or a hospital. Remember, no matter how nice he is, if you meet him while you’re working undercover with the feds to help break up his white slavery ring, the relationship is not going to work out. Likewise, prison pen pals are right out. Men are like produce. If you’re in the grocery store and you find a nice tomato in the vegetable aisle, that’s fine but if you see a tomato shoved onto the shelf over between the dog food and the cat litter, just leave that nasty thing where you found it.

Now, let’s assume that you’ve acquired a suitable pool of suitors. How do you narrow them down? Quick cuts first. Check his feet. Can you see his toes? Goodbye. Flip-flops are for showers at the gym and sandals are for the beach. Any man too dumb to wear appropriate footgear is right out. Now check his head. Is it gelled up and spiky? If he thinks his head is a cave floor to be covered in stalagmites, he’s too dumb to be a good husband. Besides, you don’t want any guy that spends longer getting pretty than you do.

Listen to me on this, when you get married and are just starting out in the world odds are you’re going to be in an apartment or a tiny little house. That means only one bathroom and you don’t want to be sharing that precious space with a man who has more lotions than you’ve got curlers. Look at his soap too. Does it have chunks of lava rocks in it? Does it have a citrus base to cut through grease? That’s good. When you get married you can shove his soap under the cabinet and not worry about it. All he wants from it is to get the gunk off his hands; he doesn’t care if the bottle is pretty or if it’s imported. In my shack, the soap on the counter is goat soap with pumpkin spice. Why? Because that’s what my wife likes. I don’t know why they make soap out of goats and I don’t want to know what they do to make the goat’s smell like pumpkins. I know my wife is happy. ‘nuff said.

Let’s cut some more real fast. In love with his car? Not in love with you. Cruel to animals? Cruel to you. Still calls his mommy ‘mommy’? That man’s already got a woman. His hands softer than yours? Get lost slacker. Uses the phrase “If you really loved me, you’d…”? Hell no. Mean to children? To the curb.

Now, some of you are wailing “But I don’t want kids” and that’s fine but you still have to cut him from the herd. If you know me, you know that I hate kids and consider them a total blight on society. But that’s no reason to take it out on the little ones. Not their fault they’re here. We got ‘em; let’s take care of ‘em and maybe they’ll grow up to not be human. Listen, girlfriend, you do not want a man that can be mean to children or animals. You don’t even want him to know you. This is a guy that’s got three bodies buried in the basement and already has a hole dug for you. Run!

And don’t marry a crazy guy either. I know; I’m certified insane. We are way too high maintenance. I’m thrilled to death that my wife was gullible enough to take me but don’t inflict this wound on yourself.

If this little winnowing process leaves you all alone, that’s okay. I know that for some reason most of y’all don’t get it but no man is way better than the wrong man. I ain’t never seen a scraggly horse yet that there weren’t a scraggly bush around to tie it too. Hang in there, your time will come spinster woman.

That was the easy part. From here it gets harder because you’ve got to ask a few questions. And this isn’t like one of those quizzes in Cosmo, you’re going to have to think a little.

What does he talk about? If he talks about stuff more than people, it’s bad. If he talks about his stuff more than people, it’s worse. I know guys are concrete oriented and you might think that makes it okay for him to be stuff oriented but they aren’t the same thing. Concrete oriented means he’s not so good at articulating feelings and that, when you tell him your problems, he’ll try to fix them instead of just listening and nodding like your girlfriends. Stuff oriented means his life is about how much can he get to show off to other people and compensate for his own lack of worth. He probably sees you as one more thing on his stuff list. “I have a house, a car, a Rolex. Must be time to get a wife and a kid.” No, no, no. You are a person. Your family and friends are people. Your offspring will probably be people too. He doesn’t have to like them but he’d better understand them they’re mooshy organic real folks and not chess pieces on a board for his scoring and amusement. You deserve better.

How does he hunt? Notice I didn’t say “Does he hunt?”. I’m not saying he should but I am saying he should be prepared and willing to do so if necessary. If you’ve got nothing and the kids are hungry, you want a man that will pick up or borrow a gun, a stick, a blowgun, a knife, or even go out with his bare hands and strangle you some food for the table if that’s what it takes. However, you don’t want a man that brags about his hunting. That’s insensitive and cruel. You want a man who will boldly go out onto the frozen tundra, bludgeon Bambi to death with a warped 2-by-4, dress out the carcass and bring home the meat then cry about it a little when he thinks nobody is looking. And don’t give me any nonsense about animal rights and vegetarianism. If it don’t eat bacon, it ain’t a man. Heck, even pigs like bacon.

How does he react when you suggest a co-ed wedding shower? If he says absolutely not, then this question is a push. Maybe he’s being selfish and insensitive and maybe he’s being old-fashioned and smart. I can’t tell you which from here. But if he thinks it’s a good idea, get rid of him. In fact, brand him with a big X or something so the rest of us guy can beat him when he’s outside.

Does he want a stag party? G-rated bachelor parties are fun and I’m all for them. Miniature golf, go-karts, and junk food till dawn while you shoot the breeze over old times are something that should never go out of style even after a fellow is married. But if he wants some kind of stripper-laden, wild oats send off to the single life, tell him to keep the single life. This is a huge red flag.

Why does he love you? Ask him this question and then be ready to hold the door on his way out. If he says one word about a single physical attribute, he’s gone. I know that one of the major appeals of women is that they’re soft and they smell nice (like spiced goats, I reckon) but that’s no reason for love. If he names any transient aspect, anything that will change over time, he’s not ready. Maybe he’s not a bad guy but he’s not ready. Marriage is about permanence. Remember, you’re not looking for a pretty groom or a playmate for the party; you’re looking for the guy that someday is going to have to hold you hair when you puke and change your Depends—if you don’t end up doing it for him first! This is not glamour but it is love. In the end, the real answer to why is because he CHOOSES to. Your sparkling wit and wonderful personality may be contributing factors to why he decided to make the choice but if you don’t hear anything else I’m saying, hear this: LOVE IS AN ACT OF CONSIOUS WILL! It’s not an emotion. Don’t marry infatuation. Marry stubborn.

I’ve said my piece and maybe I’ve exaggerated at times but not as much as you think. And if you’re a guy and I’ve offended you, grow the hell up. Any guy that’s not confident enough in who he is to take a poke in the ribs isn’t ready for a relationship anyhow.

More confusion than one man needs

2009-08-27T16:55:00.002-05:00

I don't talk about it much, but I'm currently homeless. Not the horrible "living on the street and sleeping on stoops" homeless (been there, don't want to do that again) but the awkward uncomfortable homeless of being forced to live in other people's spare rooms and, most lately, on the edge of my father's farm. Well, the farm finally sold and so, I've got to move again. Move where? Don't know.

Now, don't fret for me. It may take a month or two but things should improve considerably (I might even end up with a bit o' property of my own under me feet). But it does mean that the regular blog updates will be even more irregular (if that's even possible). Be patient and I'll hopefully see some of you at ConClave SFF convention in Michigan in October. If I can figure out the entire wi-fi/laptop/public library mystery, you might not even notice but consider this fair warning. Ah, fun, fun, fun.

And I'm still cat-less. Sumo (Kay Kenyon's cat) recommends I mourn three years before getting another.

Recent Reading

2009-08-04T12:24:00.000-05:00

The cat used to put this up so I suppose I'll continue. It's not a complete list (I tend to forget to update it, especially with library books that have to go back quickly and can't set on my desk until I get aroung to boxing them up.)

The Book of Renfield by Tim Lucas
Everything I Want To Do Is Illegal by Joel Salatin
On Writing by Steven King
Short Story Masterpieces edited by Warren and Erskine
Lemuria: the Lost Continent by W. S. Cerve and Dr. Ward through the Rosicrucian Press
The Destroyer #18: Funny Money by Sapir and Murphy
Anasazi by Dean Ing
Doom: Infernal Sky by Dafydd ab Hugh and Brad Linaweaver
The Destroyer #27: The Last Temple by Sapir and Murphy
Sinbad’s (Funny, funny, funny, funny, funny) Guide to Life by Sinbad with David Ritz
I Am Jackie Chan (My Life in Action) by Jackie Chan and Jeff Yang
Haint by Joy Ward
Outlanders: Talon and Fang by James Axler
Deathlands: Pilgrimage to Hell by Jack Adrian
The Destroyer #35: Last Call by Richard Sapir and Warren Murphy
Black Alley by Mickey Spillane
The Destroyer #56: Encounter Group by Warren Murphy
The House of Doors by Brian Lumley
The Thin Man by Dashiell Hammet
The Kinsman Saga by Ben Bova
The Bone Collector by Jeffery Deavers
A Scattering of Jades by Alexander Irvine
The Curse of the Pharaohs by Philipp Vandenberg
A Stress Analysis of a Strapless Evening Gown (Essays for a Scientific Age) edited by Robert Baker

Realms of Fantasy Relaunch Review (2 of 2)

2009-08-01T12:17:00.000-05:00

From here on, I can really only comment on issue-specific content so this may or may not be useful or relevant. I’ve already said that I thought the internal art could have been a lot better and that several of the ads detracted from the professional look of the magazine.

The book reviews left me flat too, mostly because the books that were reviewed were the same books that everyone else reviews and so, as a reader, I didn’t gain anything I couldn’t have found somewhere else or even free on the web. There was little said about the actual execution of the books, and the overwhelming bulk of the reviews were plot recaps of the work. (The review of the graphic novel is an exception to this; it does address technical merit.)

I thought the game reviews were pretty, sharp once you got past the obligatory look at the latest D&D sourcebook.

The artist highlight was enjoyable and I’d have liked to see his work spread throughout the magazine instead of all lumped up in one spot.

The movie review was a waste of space. My apologies to Resa Nelson—it’s nothing personal and her review was well written and the use of sidebars to cover specific characters was an innovative touch—I just cannot think of a movie less in need of review than the next Harry Potter film. It’s deep in a series based on a series of books. The reader already has their mind made up and either they’re going to go see it or not, regardless of what a reviewer says. To me, this is five pages of wasted content space. Hopefully in the future, the movies covered will be more obscure.

I mentioned music reviews earlier and now I must expand on that. It’s not actually a music review. I don’t know what it is. Maybe I didn’t do enough drugs in the sixties. The section is listed as a department (Folkroots) as if this is to be a recurring feature. The actual content is a rambling essay about music history. So, what does that mean for the next issue and the magazine in the long run? I hope it means that this abstruse essay is an introduction to the kind of material that will be reviewed in the future, but who can say? More annoying, I read the essay three times trying to find an answer and it’s not there. The essay is the kind of beat rant that’s full of references but lacking enough context for these references to give the reader meaningful information; the kind of essay whose real point is not to inform but to impress the reader with how smart the writer is. To me, seven more pages of wasted content. On the other hand, I think music reviews are a great idea. On this ‘department’ I say give it three issues. If the word ‘filk’ hasn’t been mentioned, start complaining to the editors. If Wild Mercy’s latest album isn’t reviewed in the next six, cancel your subscription. But that’s a personal thing. If you like to dress in black and snap your fingers while some guy rants in a coffee shop, you’ll love this.

What of the stories themselves? Despite Shawna’s editorial promoting the magazine as an incubator for new authors, this issue wasn’t. Tanith Lee headlines and the other three authors aren’t exactly new faces. (On the other hand, for a relaunch, this is a bit of a necessity.) I liked two of the stories, hated one, and thought that the Tanith Lee work was not up to her usual standards. I appreciate and support the goal of promoting new authors in RoF but the cold realities of magazine publishing and marketing mean that, with only 4 spots to work with, at best only two of those can be risked on new talent and that’s not great odds.

So, in the end, what do I think? I think it’s not as good as I’d hoped and I hate to have to say bad things about it. For all intents and purposes, it’s the same old RoF, back again. That’s good and bad. The old fan base will be happy, but I don’t see anything here that will draw in new readers or subscribers. The old fan base is loyal but they weren’t enough to support the old RoF. I expect that the magazine will continue on at a slightly reduced production value, and will probably drop their pay rates for freelancers within the year. (Please don’t let me be right about that.)

Did I mention that I want them to succeed? By all means and please, prove me wrong.

[Postscript: After I prepared this review, I was fortunate enough to exchange emails with Doug Cohen at RoF. He explained to me that FolkRoots was not music reviews. It is an ongoing series of essays about music. This gives me a better understanding of the department but no greater liking for it. I would rather that they have music reviews--if there is any area where it is almost impossible to find good talent, it is the folk and filk community. (There's lots of talent out there; they are just really hard to find other than word of mouth.) He also assured me that the style guide is being standarized as we speak and that the copy-editing quality will improve. Many of the problems I identified as first issue issues seem to be exactly that. This is good news and I pass it on to you.]

Realms of Fantasy Relaunch Review (1 of 2)

2009-07-29T12:14:00.000-05:00

On the newsstands right now you should find the August issue of Realms of Fantasy magazine. This is a relaunch of the magazine under a new publisher and I was given the privilege of reviewing the new, resurrected magazine.

Now, to be honest, I have a real interest in seeing the magazine succeed. Not only is it a market for my work but, more importantly, it’s a short story market and the industry desperately needs these markets. The fiction editor (Shawna McCarthy) expounds on this importance in her editorial in the magazine but, in this, she’s late to the party. John Scalzi and I were discussing the importance of the short fiction magazines as a proving ground for the next generation of authors years ago.

Well, the magazine is out and it’s time for all the people who lamented its demise to put their money where their mouths have been and support it. I have my own opinions on the ‘new’ RoF and I’ll share them but my job here is to tell you what the magazine is and let you know if it’s of use and interest to you.

When I first got my copy in the mail, my first thought was that there had been a mistake and I’d received a catalogue for self-published and small press POD paranormal romance books instead. The magazine is ad heavy (about one-third advertisements). Of 84 pages (including the covers), roughly 24 of these are ads plus big pull-out envelope of stuff in the middle. Don’t misunderstand; I’m not opposed to advertising in a magazine. These ads are part of what a magazine offers, letting me know what the market is doing and keeping me abreast of new titles hitting the shelves. In this case, however, I was distressed to see that the production value of some of the ads was extremely low—so low, in fact, that I think they hurt the overall appeal and professional look of the magazine. A bad ad makes the magazine looks bad. I understand the financial side of magazine publishing and the difficulties involved here, especially when bringing a magazine back from oblivion, but I do hope that this is a problem that will be solved in the future as RoF can become more selective and demand a certain minimum level of production value in its advertisers.

I also wasn’t thrilled with the quality of the magazine itself (specifically, pages started falling out of the middle) but this is not the publishers fault. My copy came through a PO box and the big envelope of advertising stuff was pulling the staples out and putting undue strain on the spine. No big deal, but not an auspicious beginning.

Before I get further into specifics, let me give you an overview of what the magazine is and who it’s written for. (Yeah, yeah, I know: “For whom it is written”.) If you like the old RoF, you’ll be right at home—there hasn’t been much change. If you’re not familiar with the old one, let me see if I can give an honest overview.

RoF is not purely a magazine of fantasy fiction. It’s better classified as a magazine generally covering all things fantasy—movies, games, music, art, etc.—with a few short stories thrown in as well. By my count, in this issue, 53% of the actual content (after ads) took the form of reviews of one sort or another and only 37% was made up of fiction (four stories). Further, it doesn’t address all types of fantasy (fantasy is a pretty broad category). It focuses more on mermaids, fuzzy dragons and cats, “Goddess Ripper” genre of stuff. Again, that’s not a complaint but if you’re looking for noir sword-and-sorcery or space opera, this is not the magazine for it.

I would describe (rather tongue in cheek) the demographic of RoF as young women ages 14 to 40 with unicorn posters on the wall and a firm belief that purple is the bestest color in the world. (Which it is, by the way.) Take a look at the spines on your bookshelf and add up the various publisher logos. Mostly Avon/Eos? Subscribe now. Tor? You’ll probably like it. Daw? Definitely worth a look and you’ll at least want to pick up the occasional issue that has an author who interests you. Baen? Don’t bother. Golden Eagle? Walk away slowly; there’s no reason for anyone to get hurt over a magazine. If Tanith Lee and Charles deLint are as gods to you and you cried for days when MZB died, this is your kind of stuff.

Let’s crunch some numbers on this issue: 84 pages for a cover price of $6.99. 24 pages of ads, 3 pages of editorial necessities like the Table of Contents, and 57 pages of actual content. Of this, 5 full page pieces of art (one is the cover), 5 pages of game reviews, 5 reviewing a movie, 7 devoted to music (I think; more on this later), 8 pages of book reviews including YA and graphic novel, a 6-page spread highlighting artist Michael Hague and showing his art, and, finally, about 21 pages of fiction. Put a different way, that’s $2.59 for the stories, $3.71 for reviews, and $0.69 for the artist. Is that worth your money? Depends on what you’re looking for; I’m the wrong person to ask. Personally, I’m a story kind of guy and for this kind of money I could buy an entire book. Still, if you wanted a book, you wouldn’t be in the magazine section so the question you have to answer is: Is this ratio one that satisfies you?

The execution of the magazine is a bit on the soft side—copy-editing goofs, the quality of the internal art is low, page layouts could be better, the font changes sizes at times—there is a list of things I could nitpick, but it boils down to the fact that the magazine needs to develop and employ a consistent style guide, and I expect they will. This is, after all, a first issue of sorts. One of these nits looms large to me though. Some (but not all) of the reviewers get a bio at the end of their piece, but none of the authors do. That, to me, is unacceptable and must be corrected.

A Brief History of Staff (4 of 4)

2009-07-26T14:43:00.000-05:00

Chaos was a pampered only-cat for a few years until my wife walked into the backyard one day and found a bird. Apparently, this was some kind of special bird (too small to eat, that’s all I could tell by looking—birds aren’t my kind of pets). Well, we couldn’t keep a bird but her sister had just taken in a stray cat and they though it would be a fair trade. “She’s a sweet little thing and growing really quick.” Yeah, really quick because she was pregnant. Once again a swarm of kittens was inflicted on my quiet home. And the mother was, at best, an incompetent monster. Not only was it her first litter but she also hated them and wanted nothing to do with them. Chaos stepped up and became their parental figure, master of the guild, trainer and mentor. Their mother escaped the house and never looked back as soon as they were weaned after a few unsuccessful attempts to eat them. Of this litter, we kept three: Zeno, Chucky, and Whiskey. Zeno I have spoken of before. Chucky is sadly much like her mother—a true cat—but she also fell head-over-heels in love with Chaos and remains with us still, trying as best she can to be domestic (and failing). And Whiskey? Well therein lies quite the story.

The more observant (and Celtic) might observe that I’m spelling Whiskey’s name wrong. That’s deliberate. Water Horses are strong enough without helping them along with the magic of naming.

When the horrid cat had her kittens, she gave birth to four that lived…and Whiskey. I tampered with the natural order and received a changeling in return. She was born dead in a placental sac that didn’t break open. I gnawed through it with my teeth (the only tool handy), sucked the mucous from her nose and mouth, and made her live. She was brain damaged, prone to seizures, lacking in coordination and depth perception, and, well, rather simple at times but she was also a rare and wonderful fey treasure.

I have never known an animal filled with more joy, more raw pleasure at the simplest events of daily life, more in love with the experience of just being alive. Oh, she was a pooka, a prankster that lived just outside of the normal world and saw everything just a little off from the rest. She didn’t cry or mew, she trilled. Emblematic of her behavior and her problems was her love of swirling her humans’ legs. Ducking her head, she’d charge forward—and miss. Realizing her error, she would stop and throw her hips sideways in order to finally make contact then circle around for another try.

It’s not really surprising that she didn’t die. One day she disappeared, back into the fairy realm she’d come to visit from. Very sad, but appropriate.

I could go on—almost two decades of cats makes for a lot of stories—but I believe this will suffice for my purpose: a brief history of the staff this far.

ConspiriThursday

2009-07-23T14:47:00.000-05:00

Conspiracy Notes:
Disclaimer: The following information is presented for consideration only. The author assumes no exclusive responsibility for the accuracy of the information (although the attempt has been made to be wholly factual). Unless expressly stated, the author does not necessarily agree with the conclusions implied by the data presented. In other words, this stuff is for you to look at and start researching yourself if it strikes a cord. Don't blame us for what you find, don't assume we mean everything we bring up for consideration, and don't take our word as a final authority. We're talking about conspiracies here; we just might lie.

Welcome to the world of Jude St. James...

(I recently used this bit of research in an article I wrote so I thought I'd share the entire block of info here)

Garduna

In 710 A.D. (aprox.) the hermit Apollinario received a vision of the Blessed Virgin, naming him savior of Spain and commanding him to drive the Moors from the land. As a surety, she gave him a button from the robe of Christ. Convinced, Apollinario formed the Garduna, a sacred army to combat the Moor. One of the unique aspects of this army was the belief that they had a special commission which absolved them of all sin so long as it was committed only against non-Christians. In effect, the Moors found themselves facing an guerrilla army of Holy terrorists.

They failed and the Garduna slowly degenerated into a criminal network, one that still held to the refusal to shed Christian blood. By the fifteenth century, the Garduna had all but faded into history before they were revitalized by Ferdinand V. The king summoned the surviving leaders of the Garduna, unleashing them in the service of the Inquisition, this time not only their sins forgiven but their crimes pardoned by the king. In 1670, the Inquisition withdrew their support of the Garduna but by then the groups power was secure.

During the eighteenth century, they repealed the prohibition against injuring Christians and became truly mercenary, selling their criminal services. Finally, in 1822, the Garduna Grand Master of Seville was arrested and, along with 16 other leaders, publicly hung.

Most historians consider that the end of the Garduna but, during the Spanish Civil War, the Garduna battle cry of "Remember the Virgin of Cordoval" resurfaced and it now seems reasonable to assume the Garduna still exist.

A Brief History of Staff (3 of 4)

2009-07-21T14:42:00.000-05:00

Shortly after we moved from the apartment into our house in Center Line, Michigan, Boo passed away, an occurrence I discussed an essay in the Collector’s Edition of Ogre Ugly. I’ll not rehash it here. (It’s in the collector’s edition, the version released at Penguicon years ago. In later editions, it has been removed because we decided it was a bit too mature for children.) Even before the move, though, Boo was largely absent during daylight hours, hiding in her lair, and the kittens were gone to their new homes. That left Chaos and I.

I’ll be the first to admit, I taught him a lot of bad habits. Like drinking pop. The old apartment was within walking distance of the local 7-11 and I worked with a perpetual ‘Double Gulp’ at my side. Condensation formed on the sides of the cup and the thirsty kitten would lap at the sides. I thought it was cute and let it go. Soon he moved on to licking the condensation (and diluted soda) that pooled on the lid. I barely noticed.

The first time he popped the lid off and began to fish inside with his paw, I noticed but by then it was too late. In fact, I made it worse. Angry that he had ruined my drink, I rather spitefully poured the remaining contents into his water bowl thinking I would teach him a lesson. I did but not the one I thought. I had, instead, created a soda drinking cat. And nothing is quite as funny to watch as a kitten zipping around the house loaded full of caffeine and sugar.

I probably should have expected something like this, at the least I should have expected the paw fishing in the cup. From the time he was tiny, Chaos delighted in fishing—slapping at pieces of ice floating in his water dish—and he had an odd way of drinking that consisted of dipping his paw into the water and then licking it dry (and shaking it when he was done, spraying the room with droplets of water).

It’s strange to think of the mammoth beast that was the Mighty Kos small enough to fit in the palm of my hand, a tuft of fur, claws, and teeth that would ride inside my jacket when we walked. When he first acquired his toy mouse it was almost as big as he was. It was a block of grey felt billed as ‘indestructible.’ It was tough, but not quite that tough. After years of abuse, when it finally fell to pieces, my wife wrote a letter to the manufacturer, telling them of the years of pleasure Chaos had enjoyed from his toy, thanking them, they, in turn, sent him a box of them. He destroyed or lost them all over the years—always with great enthusiasm.

The mouse was what gave away Chaos’ secret identity. If his mother was a dragon, he was secretly a dog. He was loyal to me in a way quite unnatural for a cat and would stump happily along behind me if I failed to pick him up and carry him but his relationship with the mouse was surreal. He was a cat who would fetch. No kidding. He would pad through the house, mouse stuffed securely into his mouth, until he found me then drop the toy at my feet and begin to cry. Eventually, I’d relent, pick up the mouse, and throw it as far away as I could. (In fact, I often threw it into places I didn’t think he could get into just to watch him puzzle things out. He was amazing in his ability to get up to and into places that you’d never expect an animal, much less a three-legged on, to reach.) Once he reclaimed it, he’d cram it into his mouth with one paw and bring it back to me, beginning the entire process over again. This would go on for hours until I lost patience and hide the mouse. That was the signal to climb into my lap and take a nap, preparing for the next round of fetch.

The mouse situation became painful when Chaos decided that his favorite toy should be regularly dropped into the water dish to be washed and then fished out again. After a few of these treatments, the felt would become rock hard. Apparently this didn’t bother the cat at all but I couldn’t help but wince when I’d throw it and it would hit the floor with a crack or thunk like a rock. He was a weird cat. Great friend but weird cat.

A Brief History of Staff (2 of 4)

2009-07-18T14:40:00.000-05:00

While Boo was establishing herself as master of the household, her progeny were making themselves to home. Boo was an incredible cat mother but she was still a cat—these kittens needed human-style discipline. Now, over time, all the kittens (except for Chaos, of course) found loving homes, but in the meantime, they were too many cats in too small a space. It was during this time that I learned the three techniques of cat training (which my lovely wife will be totally scandalized by my telling in public).

First of all, they must know that there is no piece of furniture too big to be moved if a defiant kitten is hiding under it. Sure, it’s a pain and often the effort is more trouble than it’s worth but even if the punishment doesn’t fit the crime, you must move the couch/table/car/mobile home and follow through on their punishment. It’s an important part of drilling into their little heads that you are the dominant species.

Second, you must teach them fear (to fear you specifically) and you must do it in a way that is in their language without being physically cruel. My recommended method is to simply grab them when they’re small and stick their entire head in your mouth. Just hold them there for a second or so (and don’t close your mouth!) then pull them back out. They’ll get the message. Nothing says who’s the dominant predator like realizing that your entire head could be bitten off in one shot. And a lesson learned young sticks with them forever. (Note: In no way do I advocate actually biting the cat or actually harming them. This is just about making a point that even the most rebellious of kitten brains can understand.)

The third technique is rather questionable and may not be suitable for everyone but it worked for me. I was faced with (at the time) a half-dozen kittens, all of whom seemed to feel obligated to begin marking territory at the same time. I could tell the whole story but I’m pretty sure my Good Lady Wife would have a fit and forbid it so let me simply give you the general principle: Once you demonstrate to all the would-be kingdom markers that you can mark more territory in seconds than they could hope to in a week, they should be intimidated into surrendering. It worked for me. One ‘demonstration’ and there was never—NEVER—another ‘marking’ issue. Desperate times call for desperate measures and the results seem to have justified the procedure.

A Brief History of Staff (1 of 4)

2009-07-15T14:33:00.001-05:00

Cats? I’ve known a few. Very few of them that acted like cats though; I suppose that’s why I put up with them.

The entire cat situation began years ago shortly after I was married. My Good Lady Wife was working in a greenhouse where a stray cat had taken up residence and deposited a litter of mewling kittens. The owner was insistent in his stance that the creatures be caught, stuffed in a bag, and tossed into the nearest body of water. And so it came to pass that my soft-hearted wife convinced her equally soft-headed husband that the poor wastrels must come to abide with us, but only for the short period of time it would take for them to find new homes. In the case of one, that period of time was nigh-on seventeen years.

First home was the slowest runner, the three-legged magician we have all come to know and love as Chaos. His mother and siblings soon followed. Of them, I’ll discuss only the one who stayed: Boo, mother of all, black cat extraordinaire of black cats. In truth, she was not a cat; she was a dragon. The first clue was her eyes, an attribute shared by Chaos. They were a deep gold laced with green as if her eyes were topographical maps of a sprawling, gemstone world.

A survivor par excellence, she spent the first few months of her life with us hiding safely in her ‘cave’ under the bed and, by the time she began to emerge in the daylight, the remainder of her kittens were safely crammed into our little apartment. Over time, she proved to be an excellent mother and taught her offspring many useful skills like team-hunting.

This was back about the time that cheese flavored potato chips, specifically cheddar cheese and sour cream flavor, had first began to appear in our local markets. I liked them; the cats loved them. Strange as it may seem, Chaos especially loved chips and bread (the additional attraction of cheese was a given) and the other cats weren’t far behind. Occasionally I would share chips with him; more often I would fend him off or hide from him in order to snack in peace. And then came the day I saw his mother’s training pay off. Chaos diligently watched me eat then began to pull at my pant’s leg, eventually climbing onto my lap. Lifting my chip safely away from him, over my shoulder, I heard a satisfied crunch as his mother took the largest bite of the chip she possibly could and sprint away. Pack hunting, out-smarting the human, and Boo took the first cut. It was a harbinger of things to come and indicative of the cat’s uncanny intelligence.

After seeing the eyes and the mind of a dragon in the body of a cat, I shouldn’t have been surprised at her love of metallic baubles and her hording instinct. The hording, I attributed to her years as a scavenger. It became apparent early on that she had once been someone’s beloved pet only to be dumped later to survive by her wits alone—and she didn’t just survive, she prospered.

I first saw the hording in regard to food. I had prepared a cookie sheet of chicken nuggets and left them on the stove-top to cool. Minutes later, I spied a black cat shooting toward the bedroom, nugget in her mouth. I was amused and let her go. Once again, the cat had taken advantage of a human lapse and who was I to deprive her of her rightful gain? I returned to my book and, a short while later, entered the kitchen to prepare my plate. The tray of nuggets was half empty. I hadn’t been robbed of one piece but a dozen. Boo had been diligently toting food as fast as she could from kitchen to lair, storing up against future famine.

Small object disappeared with regularity. Earrings, coins, pewter miniatures, screws from a disassembled vacuum cleaner, small pieces of blown glass—nothing seemed safe. By now I had my suspicions and I followed them into the dragon’s den. Sure enough, laying on my stomach under the bed, under the baleful gaze of a very displeased cat, I found the missing objects—and more. To this day, I’ve no idea how she managed to wrestle object almost as big as she was into her lair but they were there. It was a respectable horde for a raccoon—or a dragon.

A final story on Boo’s love of loot and glitter. I was sorting coins into stacks so that I could then, in turn put them in wrappers, and had the table covered in stacks of dimes. Just as I finished, Boo leapt onto the table, took a look at the situation, and, with a contemptuous paw, slapped the neat stacks into a more comfortable mound. She then sprawled across the top of it and began to purr contentedly. I kid you not. It was in that rather surreal moment that I realized I could no longer deny the obvious. She might look like a cat but this creature that shared my home was, in fact, a dragon.

Questions on Cover Art

2009-07-12T12:04:00.002-05:00

When you are browsing, how important is cover art to which titles you select and actually buy?
For better or worse, it seems that cover art is the single most important factor for readers when they browse. Reviews, recommendations, and familiarity with the author’s previous work figure prominently in buying but, when a reader is wandering the stacks with no preset ideas in mind, the cover becomes the dominant factor.
When discussing book covers and cover art, it becomes rapidly apparent that, in the minds of most readers, the two things are one and the same. The cover art is not just the picture on the front but expands to include the entire structure of the book’s cover—the font and placement of the title, the layout of the spine, even the back cover blurb and publisher quotes and how they are presented all blend together into a singular entity. This makes the follow up question, ‘what is good cover art?’, doubly difficult to evaluate.
A marketable cover walks a razor’s edge. On the one hand, it must be different enough from the others around it to attract the browser’s attention. On the other, it must be similar enough not to confuse or put off the reader. Horror covers need to be scary, adventure books need exciting covers, the reader needs to be able to ‘categorize’ the book, by its cover, at a glance. Not only must the books cover broadcast its genre but, to a lesser extent, it needs to project a similarity to other in genre books of similar subject or style. Most series try to keep the same cover artist for all the covers in the series. Some go so far as to keep the same artist or at least the same artistic style for all of an author’s works. The selling power of Frazetta covers in fantasy is a good example. Graphic novels provide another insight into the symbiosis between artistic style and internal style by literally wearing their style on their cover.
But, with similarity is the rule of the day, what places one book ahead of another in the browser’s eyes? Obviously the subtle differences but what makes for a successful ‘distinction’ is very much in the eyes of the beholder and seems to be as mystical as any fictional arcana. This is where the cover structure comes into its own. Title placement, fonts, text layout on cover, spine and back—all these provide some of the greatest opportunities to individualize a cover, usually in surprisingly subtle ways. Some works demand a flowing, scripted font for the title. Some readers greatly prefer block lettering on the spine. Press quotes from reviewers hook some browsers and repulse others. Here, knowledge of the nature, style, and preferences of the books target audience is an absolute necessity and everything must be tailored to please the eyes and attract the attention of that audience.
There is no one formula that emerges for cover art. It is, pardon the pun, an artform. Every nuance of the cover has to be tailored to synchronize with the potential desired reader. Salinger’s classic Catcher in the Rye cover of gold lettering on a stark red background seems to defy all conventional wisdom but actually embodies it—the cover speaks of the book, powerfully, and reaches out to the reader from the shelves, distinct in its lack of trappings. On a personal note, I am constantly surprised by how the cover design of my own recent book, Speakers and Kings, has the power to draw readers, piquing their curiosity with the absence of pictorial art on the cover while the simplicity reassures them that the book is ‘classy’.
The cover of a book is possibly its strongest selling point and one of the most often overlooked aspects. It leads one to wonder, how many good books failed to sell because of the cover? And what a terrible disservice to the author that many publishing houses push them aside for this final step in the creative process—the writer’s foremost and final chance to portray his work in a single visual moment to his future readers.

TheoTuesdays: The Animistic and Anthropomorphic Soul

2009-06-30T14:31:00.000-05:00

I finally mewed at the Thin Man until he agreed to explain, at least in brief, his philosophy of the soul and why animals do go to heaven. Because it is pedantic and of little interest to the reader (in his opinion) he wants me to spread it out (I’m thinking of instituting ‘TheoTuesdays’ like the current ‘ConspiriThursday’) and he insists on the following disclaimer:

There are public theologies and private thoughts. Likewise, there are core, vital doctrines and then there are those speculations that are not truly relevant in the grand scheme of Salvation. This is a private speculation based largely on two foundations: the fact that it seems intuitively correct and does not contradict anything extant in the Holy Writ; and a reasoned extension of the already-displayed character and consistency of God documented in the Holy Writ. These are one man’s thoughts in the long hours of the night and should not be considered in any way worthwhile doctrine or even subjects of debate (except, perhaps, where the reader may find the Holy Ghost prompting within—and at that point it is an issue between God and the reader).

[This is the last part of the Thin Man's fat essay: "A Brief Discourse on the Animistic and Anthropomorphic Extensions of the Nature of the Soul". Hope you enjoyed the ride.]

Throughout human history, the belief that animals will exist in heaven has been present. They may be present as prey to be hunted, mounts to be ridden, or pets to be coddled but they are there. It seems that to question their presence in the afterlife is a modern invention rather than an age-old question. The sheep of the shepherd and the fish of the fisherman apostles will be present. This is intuitively known; it is only later that men began to ask how. Animals do not possess souls of their own (souls seem to be the province of humans alone) and so, we are taught, only souls pass from the mortal to the immortal world. Does that mean there are, in fact, no animals in heaven? How grotesquely we underestimate God.

If the influence of the soul can be extended to other humans, why can the same not be true of animals? Indeed, since animals do not possess souls of their own, would it not stand to reason that, for a time, they borrow a portion of a person’s soul to use as their own? And if the spirit arises from the interaction of body and soul, then would this not explain why certain animals seem to have very human personalities while others, more distant to humans, remain ‘simply’ animals? (In fact, I would extend this beyond animals and out to include things such as trees and the land itself.)

Let me specifically address animals on three different levels: pets, livestock (and prey), and incidental contact.

It is with pets that this theory needs the least explanation except to clarify that, as with people, a pet may be influenced by more than one human being. It is not about the animal’s owner, but about the people who invest themselves in the animal.

Livestock (animals raised for food) and prey (animals hunted for food) are more difficult to explain. The reason is because many people (including many farmers and hunters) do not understand the love that exists between the herdsman, the hunter, and the beasts of field and forest. To an animal, the human is their god. It is man who sets the time of their coming and going, the days of their lives and the tasks they perform in between. And with that power comes a terrible duty—a duty that, without a deep and abiding love, is impossible to perform properly. That the animal must, in the end, die is inconsequential to the greater truth that, first, the animal must live and live well. But man is not God and he cannot change what must be. He cannot cure all of the disease, cannot ease all the suffering, and, in the end, man’s duty to his family and his clan requires that the animal he loves so much must fulfill one final role. Many a farmer grieves the slaughter; many hunters weep for the fallen. This relationship is one of those matters that, I fear, cannot be fully explained, only understood or not depending on the experiences of the person involved.

I cite incidental contact as an example of the natural empathy that exists between man and animal. A pet or herd animal is well known, but the great stag seen in passing or the hawk that alights once in the yard and is never seen again may still have a profound effect on the viewer. It seems logical, then, to believe that in these small contacts some transference and investment occurs just as it does when two humans meet as strangers. There is still contact, there is still significance.

Do animals go to heaven? Yes; they ride along with us, as part of our souls, parts that we loaned to them while we shared this life together and that they give back to us increased a hundredfold.

I honestly don’t feel that this is a sufficient explanation and by no means complete but it is the best I can express in the time at hand. In no way do I believe this fragile theory of mine should be used as a basis for any doctrine nor is it an excuse to somehow worship the creation instead of the Creator. I state all these things only that you, the reader, may think about it and, perhaps, find in the contemplation a portion of the wonder and mystery, the glimpse of God’s glory in nature that I have found.

TheoTuesdays: The Regenerative Nature of the Soul

2009-06-23T14:29:00.000-05:00

I finally mewed at the Thin Man until he agreed to explain, at least in brief, his philosophy of the soul and why animals do go to heaven. Because it is pedantic and of little interest to the reader (in his opinion) he wants me to spread it out (I’m thinking of instituting ‘TheoTuesdays’ like the current ‘ConspiriThursday’) and he insists on the following disclaimer:

There are public theologies and private thoughts. Likewise, there are core, vital doctrines and then there are those speculations that are not truly relevant in the grand scheme of Salvation. This is a private speculation based largely on two foundations: the fact that it seems intuitively correct and does not contradict anything extant in the Holy Writ; and a reasoned extension of the already-displayed character and consistency of God documented in the Holy Writ. These are one man’s thoughts in the long hours of the night and should not be considered in any way worthwhile doctrine or even subjects of debate (except, perhaps, where the reader may find the Holy Ghost prompting within—and at that point it is an issue between God and the reader).

The materialist paradigm long ago infested religious thought. Nowhere is this more obvious than in the prevailing view of the soul. We take for granted a kind of ‘assembly line soul’ on a lease-to-own plan—one per customer, standard size, one size fits all, no alterations, return it when you’re done and pay for any damages. This is not a view based on nature, experience, or Holy Scripture; it is a view rooted in an industrial worldview.

We are never told the limits of the soul and I believe that is for a reason: there are no limits of the soul. There is no maximum or minimum amount of ‘soul’ and no limits of breadth or width or height. The soul is unquantifiable. It has quality but not quantity. If the soul could be summed up into a set of dimensions, definitions, and limits, if it could be bound up in a trap of words, then it would not be a soul. The soul must be more than mundane. It must exceed measurement for, if it did not, then it would not be worth the terrible cost that has been paid to redeem it. And because of this, there is no reason not to assume (and every experiential reason to accept) that the soul can be hurt, can be (at least temporarily) diminished and oppressed (though never extinguished, for it is sustained by an indefatigable spark of divine grace), and that the soul can, in turn, heal, grow, and expand without limits.

I have previously discussed that the soul can be taken, given, and distributed across vast distances of space and time. The logical question is: Why? Why allow something as precious as the soul to be spread outside the physical body into the entire sphere of influence of the individual? I contend it is exactly that: so that the influence of an individual’s soul can be spread across the entirety of that person’s reach. It would diminish the value and usefulness of the soul if it were to be tied only to the physical body. If I could not reach out and lend encouragement, comfort, ennoblement, and all the other virtues of the soul across time and space, then my usefulness to the overall plan of God would be pointlessly diminished. God is not wasteful or shortsighted and I would therefore argue that, if it is gainful, there is no reason to doubt at least the possibility of the extension and transference of the soul from and to other people.

There is a term for this in business: investiture. Modern Christianity has an even more incomplete term: discipleship. I prefer the simpler terms. I call it friendship and, beyond that, compassion. We give of ourselves to other people, close friends or strangers, of our time, caring, labor—in a word, we choose to love them. And some, in turn, do the same for us. This is an example of the sharing of the soul. We may be hurt because we make ourselves vulnerable. To a zero-sum believer, this is a terrifying prospect. Surely to give of your soul diminishes the grace you retain within; to love is to become less than you were before. To a transcendent believer, this ability to give is a cause for great joy. We do not run out—there is no empty tank of soul—and, though we may and will be hurt, we may also increase someone else. In turn, when we are weak and tired, others will do the same for us. It is a strange, confusing, frightening process that we can never fully understand but that, on a spiritual level, we are impelled instinctively to do; the whole of the human experience—ours, those around us, and total strangers possibly even generation removed (for remember, the soul is extemporal, it cares nothing for time)—is made better and made to see more of God’s grace channeled through us.

Now, if memory serves, I set out to explain how all of this was relevant to animals.

TheoTuesdays: Theft of the Soul

2009-06-16T14:27:00.000-05:00

I finally mewed at the Thin Man until he agreed to explain, at least in brief, his philosophy of the soul and why animals do go to heaven. Because it is pedantic and of little interest to the reader (in his opinion) he wants me to spread it out (I’m thinking of instituting ‘TheoTuesdays’ like the current ‘ConspiriThursday’) and he insists on the following disclaimer:

There are public theologies and private thoughts. Likewise, there are core, vital doctrines and then there are those speculations that are not truly relevant in the grand scheme of Salvation. This is a private speculation based largely on two foundations: the fact that it seems intuitively correct and does not contradict anything extant in the Holy Writ; and a reasoned extension of the already-displayed character and consistency of God documented in the Holy Writ. These are one man’s thoughts in the long hours of the night and should not be considered in any way worthwhile doctrine or even subjects of debate (except, perhaps, where the reader may find the Holy Ghost prompting within—and at that point it is an issue between God and the reader).

Photographs steal part of your soul. You know it, I know it, tribal groups throughout history have known it. You want to pretend that you’re sophisticated and modern and that it’s all just primitive superstition but, deep down, we all know better. Still, I’ll spell it out just to drive home the point.

When I speak of a photograph, I am actually referring to a much larger body of work and art—photographs, portraits, letters, books, sculpture—in essence, I am referring to any work from or depiction of an individual that calls to the mind of another that individual, and any emotion or knowledge of that individual. Put more simply, I’m talking about symbols, any symbol that represents an individual. When you read a letter from a relative, it is symbolic of that relative, calling them to your mind. When you see a picture of someone, you are seeing a symbol of that individual. Obviously, there is more to a person than a simple picture or letter can present but, through the symbol, the entirety of that person and what you know of them is summoned up within the mind of the viewer. Further still, even viewing a picture or reading a letter from a person you’ve never met will still bring to your mind an impression of that person. It may be an incorrect impression but, strangely enough, humans seem highly adept at discerning the nature and character of an individual even from something as distant and impersonal as a photograph. How can this be? We take it for granted as if it were a simple thing rather than the great wonder that it is.

It has been said that language is what separates man from the animals, the greatest of his gifts and tools. And what is language but the use of symbols to represent larger concepts from mind to mind? Words carry connotations as well as definitions and, in context, carry even more meaning. Words are only part of language. Indeed, the entirety of what most people define as language barely scratches the surface. Language is the sum total of communication from one individual, isolated within his own mind, to another individual, isolated within their own mind. All of the arts are language, from paintings to novels to sculptures and the buildings designed and built by the hands of men and the plowed fields of the farmer waving with grain. Every stamp, every mark, every temporary change upon the physical world is communication, language from one lonely soul to another through the only medium available—physical reality. Photographs, then, are languages, sentences and speeches made with actions rather than words.

Again we return to the basic question: How? How can language carry such power? It is true magic and a mystery. More to the point, though, it works because, within this language, be it words or pictures, lies trapped a portion of the subject’s soul. There is no other reasonable explanation (although this is only part of the explanation, not the totality of it).

The query that logically follows is why we allow the practice and why we willingly engage in it. The answer is deceptively simple. Why would we assume that having a portion of your soul captured and shared by someone else is a bad thing? Certainly it can be and, as an author, I certainly understand the risks and fears of laying heart and soul bare for the inspection of strangers through my writing; but, perhaps, it is not always bad.

Why?

Reality is not a zero-sum game.

TheoTuesday: Universal Sums

2009-06-09T18:29:00.000-05:00

The King is Dead; He Has No Heirs

2009-06-08T13:18:00.002-05:00

Behold that I write to you with mine own hand that you may know my verity. The King is dead; he has no heirs.

Sunday morning, Chaos suffered what appeared to be a stroke (or series of small strokes) and, by that evening, was gone.

It is impossible for me to explain the significance or devistation of this loss. For 17 years, he had been my constant companion, sleeping next to me in bed and sitting in my lap as I wrote. He was with me before, during, and after my physical collapse and, in the process, became the perfectly trained companion animal. Now he is gone.

He outlived the two proteges he trained and leaves me with an empty office. I must admit, I frankly don't know what I'll do now. Without the cat (pet, friend, confidant, side-kick, and partner) to manage it, maybe I'll stop. (Unlike my optimistic feline, I doubt it's read on a regular basis and I don't really think I have anything worth saying anyhow.) I'll have to think it through. Right now, I just don't know.

He already scheduled the rest of the discussion of the soul to automatically post itself and I'll let that run while I think. He'd have wanted it that way.

MKeaton

TheoTuesday: Patrick's Theophany

2009-06-02T18:27:00.000-05:00

There are public theologies and private thoughts. Likewise, there are core, vital doctrines and then there are those speculations that are not truly relevant in the grand scheme of Salvation. This is a private speculation based largely on two foundations: the fact that it seems intuitively correct and does not contradict anything extant in the Holy Writ; and a reasoned extension of the already-displayed character and consistency of God documented in the Holy Writ. These are one man’s thoughts in the long hours of the night and should not be considered in any way worthwhile doctrine or even subjects of debate (except, perhaps, where the reader may find the Holy Ghost prompting within—and at that point it is an issue between God and the reader).

2: Patrick’s Theophany

“In the beginning Elohim created the heaven and the earth.” So begins the Holy Scriptures of three religions; so begins history. From the beginning, God and His creation are inseparable. I reference this because this base assumption influences the way I think about everything that proceeds from it, including animals and the soul.

The concept that an omnipresent God was represented within every aspect of his creation was accepted as intuitively obvious until it was obscured by the over-legalization of the Jews. Early Christians, following the rigid Roman mindset of rationalization and materialism, also failed to recognize this greatest of testaments. It was not until St. Patrick that the early Church began to again recognize that creation itself was the greatest theophany—the ever visible physical presence of God among men. The wonders of creation—its complexities, its beauties, and its mysteries—are a Holy Scripture themselves speaking to man, on the most basic level, of the nature and constancy of God. It is a reaffirmation of natural (Noahchim) law and the law of conscience. (Let me pause to address a specific point of doctrine. Many schools of modern Christian thought believe that the law of conscience became obsolete with the advent of the Christ. This is patently untrue. Neither the law of conscience nor Judaic law passed away. The Christ Himself took pains to state that He had come to fulfill the law, not to do away with it.)

Although this entire discussion seems a digression, I feel the point needed to be made in order to establish the reasons that I believe physical reality, as well as the worlds of spirit and soul, is first and foremost governed by spiritual laws rather than physical laws. I say this as a scientist. Within the history of science it can be found that, when science and God appear to disagree, in the end, God proves to be correct. I do not mean God in the sense of whatever the prevailing human dogma is but, rather, God as He has demonstrated Himself throughout history both in Scripture and the constancy of His nature. Physics and metaphysics are two separate, complimentary studies; placing one above the other is an act of human hubris. God instituted physics and created the ‘laws’ of science; there is no contradiction because there is only one truth. Nevertheless, if there appears to be a conflict between the two, the spiritual presumptions are, in my experience, the more reliable ones (and, might I add, these areas of seeming conflict are the most gainful areas of study both for the theologian and the scientist).

This is how I view the underlying nature and prioritization of reality, and it colors all my further assumptions and deductions. St. Patrick understood; Augustine did not. The God of nature is the God of man. This is not an appeal to the worship of nature as a god nor the endorsement of obeahism, but it is an acknowledgement of one of the greatest, permanently available theophanies—a clear and omnipresent insight into the mind of God.

I realize that, in this regard, I run the risk of sounding like some odd form of Unitarian/Druid/Kabbalist/ Christian. This is not the case. My theology (and more importantly, my core belief) is effectively that of a traditional Anabaptist. More to the point, I believe that God dictated the Holy Scriptures and that He meant exactly what He said. In this, I place no man’s opinion over what is written in the Word. For the most part, I can be comfortably pigeonholed as one of those ‘hatemongering, legalistic, holiness-movement-throwback evangelicals.” But I also am, in some regard, a mystic (albeit a Christian mystic—the good St. Patrick and I have much in common). An acceptance of the mystic, of the unknown and unknowable mysteries that are not explained to man because it is not necessary for man to know, is part of an honest belief. The modern Church has come to accept the materialistic reductionist paradigm as though it were part of the Holy Writ rather than a secular human conceit. Again, I am a scientist but I am not a worshiper of science as the be all, end all ultimate answer of all things. There are things beyond our understanding; there are mysteries and things beyond our ken. That is not heresy; it is honesty.

[Note: Theophany is classically defined as a manifestation of God to man by actual appearance such as the giving of the Ten Commandments to Moses on Mt. Sinai or the Burning Bush. Materialism is a philosophy holding that matter is the only reality and that everything, even thought and will, can be explained only in terms of matter. As a consequence, it lends itself to the belief that comfort, pleasure, and wealth are the only and highest goals and values. When combined with the dehumanizing effects of industrialism, it is a philosophy of scant value and severe danger.]

Reading, Writing, and Cover Art

2009-05-29T18:25:00.000-05:00

This is a question we've been tossing around for a while and I think there is a general consensus that we can safely post on the blog. Feel free to add your own opinions.

When you are browsing, how important is cover art to which titles you select and actually buy?

For better or worse, it seems that cover art is the single most important factor for readers when they browse. Reviews, recommendations, and familiarity with the author’s previous work figure prominently in buying but, when a reader is wandering the stacks with no preset ideas in mind, the cover becomes the dominant factor.
When discussing book covers and cover art, it becomes rapidly apparent that, in the minds of most readers, the two things are one and the same. The cover art is not just the picture on the front but expands to include the entire structure of the book’s cover—the font and placement of the title, the layout of the spine, even the back cover blurb and publisher quotes and how they are presented all blend together into a singular entity. This makes the follow up question, ‘what is good cover art?’, doubly difficult to evaluate.
A marketable cover walks a razor’s edge. On the one hand, it must be different enough from the others around it to attract the browser’s attention. On the other, it must be similar enough not to confuse or put off the reader. Horror covers need to be scary, adventure books need exciting covers, the reader needs to be able to ‘categorize’ the book, by its cover, at a glance. Not only must the books cover broadcast its genre but, to a lesser extent, it needs to project a similarity to other in genre books of similar subject or style. Most series try to keep the same cover artist for all the covers in the series. Some go so far as to keep the same artist or at least the same artistic style for all of an author’s works. The selling power of Frazetta covers in fantasy is a good example. Graphic novels provide another insight into the symbiosis between artistic style and internal style by literally wearing their style on their cover.
But, with similarity is the rule of the day, what places one book ahead of another in the browser’s eyes? Obviously the subtle differences but what makes for a successful ‘distinction’ is very much in the eyes of the beholder and seems to be as mystical as any fictional arcana. This is where the cover structure comes into its own. Title placement, fonts, text layout on cover, spine and back—all these provide some of the greatest opportunities to individualize a cover, usually in surprisingly subtle ways. Some works demand a flowing, scripted font for the title. Some readers greatly prefer block lettering on the spine. Press quotes from reviewers hook some browsers and repulse others. Here, knowledge of the nature, style, and preferences of the books target audience is an absolute necessity and everything must be tailored to please the eyes and attract the attention of that audience.
There is no one formula that emerges for cover art. It is, pardon the pun, an artform. Every nuance of the cover has to be tailored to synchronize with the potential desired reader. Salinger’s classic Catcher in the Rye cover of gold lettering on a stark red background seems to defy all conventional wisdom but actually embodies it—the cover speaks of the book, powerfully, and reaches out to the reader from the shelves, distinct in its lack of trappings. On a personal note, I am constantly surprised by how the cover design of my own recent book, Speakers and Kings, has the power to draw readers, piquing their curiosity with the absence of pictorial art on the cover while the simplicity reassures them that the book is ‘classy’.
The cover of a book is possibly its strongest selling point and one of the most often overlooked aspects. It leads one to wonder, how many good books failed to sell because of the cover? And what a terrible disservice to the author that many publishing houses push them aside for this final step in the creative process—the writer’s foremost and final chance to portray his work in a single visual moment to his future readers.

TheoTuesday (An Experiment in Heresy)--The Debate of Body and Soul

2009-05-26T18:22:00.000-05:00

I finally mewed at the Thin Man until he agreed to explain, at least in brief, his philosophy of the soul and why animals do go to heaven. Because it is pedantic and of little interest to the reader (in his opinion) he wants me to spread it out (I’m thinking of instituting ‘TheoTuesdays’ like the current ‘ConspiriThursday’) and he insists on the following disclaimer:

There are public theologies and private thoughts. Likewise, there are core, vital doctrines and then there are those speculations that are not truly relevant in the grand scheme of Salvation. This is a private speculation based largely on two foundations: the fact that it seems intuitively correct and does not contradict anything extant in the Holy Writ; and a reasoned extension of the already-displayed character and consistency of God documented in the Holy Writ. These are one man’s thoughts in the long hours of the night and should not be considered in any way worthwhile doctrine or even subjects of debate (except, perhaps, where the reader may find the Holy Ghost prompting within—and at that point it is an issue between God and the reader).

A Brief Discourse on the Animistic and Anthropomorphic Extensions of the Nature of the Soul

1: The Debate of Body and Soul

The question of what, exactly, is the soul and how it relates to the other aspects which make up the totality of this mortal clay called ‘man’ is a subject of debate as old as mankind himself. The modern cliché describes man as body, spirit, and soul (sometimes substituting mind for spirit) without clearly defining the terms. Most of us accept this without question or understanding. Medieval scholars debated extensively the conflict between the body and soul with the mind or spirit absent completely from the discussion. Indeed, the concept of the spirit existing separate from the soul is a relatively new (or alternatively very old) idea. There is little question that man has a body and that he has a soul—some part of his existence that is both immortal and inextricably connected to man’s relationship with the Divine—but whether or not he also possesses a separate component of spirit or conscious mind separate from one of these two is a matter still unsettled. The apostle Paul writes about the two ‘natures’ within man, one base and human, one divine and acquired through divine grace, that exist within the believer in a constant state of dynamic struggle. This has been interpreted by scholars to show either as two spirits within man seeking influence over bodily actions and the direction of the soul or as two souls, each attempting to control the body.

The Holy Writ makes no attempt to define the soul. “And the Lord God formed man the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.” Thus is implied that the soul exists beyond death and that the body is separate from the soul but that the body, lacking the soul, is dead.

All of this goes simply to point out that, when asking the question, “What is the soul and where does it begin and end?” there is no empirical answer. The question is, I believe, something that each person must ultimately answer for themselves. St. Aquinas spent volumes discussing it and, in the end, even he did not arrive at a simple or comprehensive answer. It is most likely that the actual answer is an intuitive truth—that we know what the soul is even if we cannot succinctly articulate it. I believe that, since words have power and much of that power is the power to bind and limit, this inability to capture the soul with words, to put the divine spark of the self into a simple box, is a necessary mystery. It is right and fitting that the soul should be beyond mere words.

For our purposes, let me state what I hold as true, remembering that I am most likely wrong, definitely incomplete in my understanding, and quite possibly different from the reader. I contend that man is comprised of three elements—body, spirit, and soul—but that these distinctions are themselves misleading and that the three elements, in the mortal coil, are inextricably linked and interwoven within each other. The color of man is a plaid. The spirit and soul influence the body. Does not a man gripped by fear and despair carry himself differently from one free of cares? And over time, do not these aspects originating not of the body, in time, mold and form the body into unchanging physical forms? Likewise the body exerts its influence in turn. A man living in constant physical pain will see his spirit affected, for good or ill. The body is the aspect that the physical world and other humans interact with and this interaction, in turn, cannot fail to influence the less physical aspects of man. Let me also state that, in the course of this discussion, I shall often use the terms soul and spirit interchangeably and possibly even incorrectly. This is because of the unique mixture of the part of the human condition that make precise distinctions impossible.

Accepting then that anything I say is, at best, sophiclism, I further contend that the seat of consciousness is most likely the spirit. That is to say, the spirit and the mind occupy the same role in the human amalgama. The body—the implacable, omnipresent clay that is the seat of human existence—is an absolute, standing to the one side of the spirit. The soul—that part of man that is immortal, moral, and uniquely tuned to the divine—stands on the other. The spirit, influenced by both, is a kind of metaphysical skid brake between the two. Our concept of our selves is that worn, malleable, ever-flexing cushion between the two extremes, influenced by and filtering the effects of each, though in muted form, to the other allowing us to exist as one unified being made up of incompatible extremes.

And what, you ask, does any of this have to do with animals and heaven? I might get to that eventually; but aren’t you sorry you asked?

Guy Even Watch French Movies (but rarely)

2009-05-23T18:21:00.000-05:00

Le Pacte des Loups (The Brotherhood of the Wolf) from Umvd Studios
One of the more amusing descriptions of this movie was “Crouching Tiger; Hidden Werewolf”. It is not a bad synopsis. The movie is, at its core, a werewolf movie with token gestures towards detective work and period piece. It is also a foreign film (subtitled into English) and, worse yet, it is French. With all of this weighing in against it, why would anyone watch? The answer is surprisingly simple: it’s well-done, and it’s pretty to watch.
The movie is not high art but it is artistic. The plot, though simple, is nuanced in places and well-executed. The straightforward nature of the characters clears the way for the viewer to enjoy the visuals and action. A minimum of complicated dialogue negates much of the distraction caused by subtitling a movie. In short, the movie is just plain fun to watch.
The settings are gorgeous, eccentric, and colorful. The cinematography is occasionally a bit too artsy but overall above average and, at times, brilliantly experimental. The fight choreography is on par with the Hong Kong cinema. The acting is solid and does not get in the way of the film. The use of sound effects and music accentuates the on screen action quite nicely. Though easily overlooked, the placement and timing of the subtitles on screen are a masterful technical stroke which makes the foreign film accessible. The viewer is never presented with the decision between reading dialoged and missing a key element on screen and the subtitles do not distract from the natural flow of the viewing experience.
Le Pacte des Loups is not high cinema but it is one of the most enjoyable werewolf movies since the Howling. Even if werewolves do not appeal to you, the fight scenes are a visual blast worth watching as well.

Guys Read About Imperialism

2009-05-20T18:19:00.000-05:00

British Imperialism (Gold, God, Glory) edited by Robin W. Winks
In an age when imperialism and hegemony are considered to somehow be intrinsically evil, it is extremely beneficial to examine the actual track record of these institutions. In addition, for a reader of genre literature, especially period adventures, an understanding of the political context of the time can add considerably to the enjoyment of the work.
British Imperialism is not a singular work by one author or with one perspective. It is a collection of essays addressing the issue from a variety of perspectives, differing emphases, and even written at different points in history from essays written within the British Imperial period to modern critics. It is with this widely variety of approaches that the book achieves a fair and unbiased viewpoint of this issue through a balance of extremes. Economic, moral, and societal pressures are each examined as driving forces in the establishment of the imperial colonial mindset. The end result is far from the modern posturing of academic historians who present the matter with a kind of moralistic proselytizing. The book instead leaves the reader with objective information and historical context from which it is the reader rather than the history professor who is left to assess the Empire upon which the sun never set.

Related Reading:
The Fall of Rome edited by Mortimer Chambers
Napoleon III (Man of Destiny) edited by Brison D. Gooch

Updating, at last

2009-05-17T18:13:00.001-05:00

Once again, I update what I've seen the Thin Man reading. (It's not a complete list because I miss a lot of stuff and we live in and out of boxes but it does give you some insight into his total lack of focus.)

Wild Seed by Octavia Butler
Destroyer #44: Balance of Power by Warren Murphy
Predators edited by Gorman and Greenberg
Angel by Garry D. Kilworth
Stars in My Pocket Like Grains of Sand by Sam Delany
Good Neighbors by Holly Black
Stony Man #70: Ramrod Intercept presented by Don Pendleton
How the Irish Saved Civilization by Thomas Cahill
Worlds in Collision by Immanuel Velikovsky
Real Men Don’t Apologize by Jim Belushi
Falcon by Emma Bull
Brave New World and Brave New World Revisited by Aldous Huxley
Wee Free Men by Terry Pratchett
Doomstalker by Glen Cook
Heir Apparent by Vivian Vande Velde
Short Story Masterpieces edited by Warren and Erskine

Midsouth Convention Report (Part the Final of a half-dozen or so)

2009-05-02T17:18:00.000-05:00

Let me point you toward one final person from the convention and that’s my favorite Nordic heretic, Jeremy Lewis (aka J. F. Lewis). Jeremy writes the Void City books but, in my opinion, his real claim to fame is that he’s a heck of a dad. It’s hard to be a writer and have a family and keep it all in perspective. Jeremy’s one of the few that does and for no other reason than that, I’d tell you to go buy his books. But that’s not all. He’s also a great guy all around but, more important, he’s a really good writer—tight, fast, visceral—vampires, werewolves, violence. What’s not to love? Okay, not happy yet? How about he throws in solid plots and well-developed characters? Still not convinced? Well, that’s all I’ve got so I guess I’ll let his fan base sell you on the rest. Let me close with this: Harry Dresden with attitude.

Okay, cat, con report done until ‘Clave.

Midsouth Convention Report (Part 6 of a half-dozen or so)

2009-04-29T17:16:00.000-05:00

As long as I’m wandering around hyping people, let me talk about the Gambers. It’s hard for me to say nice things about them without being accused of kissing up to a publisher but, oh well. (The Gambers run Meadowhawk Press.) Now, I like the entire family but I think Jackie’s writing specifically should get more attention. She’s got tons of short stuff coming out and, surprisingly, a good portion of it is horror. It’s surprising because she’s one of the sweetest, least menacing people I know. We first met on a panel last year about killing characters where she explained that she was opposed to it. For a writer that gets so attached to her characters that she doesn’t want to kill them to end up selling horror short stories is amusing to me but it’s also a good example of her flexibility as a writer. I mention the horror but, at heart, she’s a fantasy author and a darn good one (a little mushy for my taste but then, you know me). If that confuses you, go over to www.hads.us and see what I mean by mushy—I like my dragons more aggressive, not less. Joking aside, if you like fantasy, and especially if you like dragon fantasy, she’s your go-to person. But if you want to see her horror (and mine), pick up the next few issues of Shroud magazine (I ain’t sayin’ no more because I don’t know whose ink is dry on which contracts and what we’re allowed to talk about.)

While I’m talking about generally sweet people, let me also point you toward Joy Ward and her genre of ‘dog lit.’ (dogblog.dogster.com) as well as her book Haint. I haven’t read Haint yet but I like Joy and she knows what she’s talking about with writing so I’m looking forward to the book. She sent me home with a copy to read and then send on overseas. Joy and Jackie are a couple of people who understand what I’m talking about when I say I kill people in my books all the time but killing the horse, now that’s serious business.

I’d hype Bill Snodgrass, Double Edged Publishing, and Ray Gun Revival magazine but, people, that’s who put out Calamity’s Child. If you haven’t figured that out yet, I can’t help much other than to say that DEP puts out a wide range of magazines and books and that the magazines are free on-line so why not go read?

Midsouth Convention Report (Part 5 of a half-dozen or so)

2009-04-26T17:14:00.000-05:00

The author GoH at Midsouthcon was Mike Resnick. We got along about like you’d expect (assuming you know both of us). I didn’t see much of the other GoHs but I do wish to point out that, in the limited time I had to talk with Stanton Friedman, though he and I don’t agree on some subjects, I was struck with the openness of his personality and his dedication to finding truth as opposed to merely promoting the scientific orthodoxy. If that leads him down the path of UFO investigation, so be it. I certainly respect his willingness to look and his willingness to come to the convention and defend his positions.

The Filk GoH was Wild Mercy. Let me state up front that I love their music. I never get to hear them live because I tend to be busy elsewhere but it was really nice to get to talk to them this trip. Mostly, I want to put a plug in for their new CD and send you looking for more of their stuff. I’ve almost worn the grooves off Summer Storm (and tend to wake up with their songs stuck in my head). If you want an explanation of the style of their music, well, good luck with that. I’ll point you to the harp, the strong Celtic influence, the general folk styling, and the very well executed percussion elements but that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

I didn’t really get to spend anywhere near the time I’d have liked with Glen Cook but the wandering panel we did was like candy, sheer storytelling pleasure. Likewise, it was nice to share a bit of horror-market gossip with Linda Donahue but we barely managed more than a pass in the hall.

Andrew Fox I met first on Friday through his boys and we talked on and off through the weekend. As with Wild Mercy, I want to point you over toward his stuff. Andrew lives in New Orleans and after the ugly hurricane, lost his web presence so you might have to do a bit more work than just pop over to a website but I’m sure he’ll be back on line soon enough. His latest book, The Good Humor Man, just came out from Tachyon Publications. What does he write? Well, think of it as a mix of supernatural horror with a strong dose of sardonic humor. Do a search, read some reviews of his earlier books, and consider picking it up. It’s not my personal cup of tea but it is well executed and entertaining.

ConspiriThursday

2009-04-23T17:20:00.000-05:00

(Con report or not, I'm not missing a ConspiriThursday! I love the way the Thin Man's brain works--or doesn't.)

Conspiracy Notes:
Disclaimer: The following information is presented for consideration only. The author assumes no exclusive responsibility for the accuracy of the information (although the attempt has been made to be wholly factual). Unless expressly stated, the author does not necessarily agree with the conclusions implied by the data presented. In other words, this stuff is for you to look at and start researching yourself if it strikes a cord. Don't blame us for what you find, don't assume we mean everything we bring up for consideration, and don't take our word as a final authority. We're talking about conspiracies here; we just might lie.

Welcome to the world of Jude St. James...

AIDS/HIV
1984---Gallo and Montagnier separately isolate AIDS virus. Disagree on origin. Montagnier states origin of virus a mystery. Gallo states virus stems from monkeys, claiming freelance journalist Fettner told him in 1983 that AIDS came from green monkeys in central Africa. Despite the fact that Fettner (in her book The Truth About AIDS) does not refer to green monkeys and states that AIDS began as an American disease, Gallo's explanation becomes the official explanation until a separate group of American scientists claim origin of virus to be chimpanzees (late 1990s).

1978---Government sponsored experimental hepatitis B vaccine distributed in Manhattan. Experimental vaccine was cultured using chimpanzee-based media
1979---First reported incidents AIDS: "immunodeficiency disease" in Manhattan
1979-1980--- Government sponsored experimental hepatitis B vaccine distributed in San Francisco, Los Angeles, Denver, St. Louis, and Chicago
1980---Reports spread to San Francisco, Los Angeles, Denver, St. Louis, and Chicago
1981---Official AIDS epidemic declared in the US
1982---AIDS epidemic declared in Africa

Midsouth Convention Report (Part 4 of a half-dozen or so)

2009-04-20T17:12:00.000-05:00

Sunday started with a panel on writing for children. This was probably the least attended panel I was on (I think the audience was about three people) but it was nice—lively, open, and more of a roundtable format that a formal panel. From there, I was off to lunch with the other guests and the volunteers. I ended up with John Hudgens and Stanton Friedman discussing the graying, not just of science fiction, but the graying of science in general and, perhaps a good deal of ‘thinking’ society in general.

After a very stimulating conversation, I was off to discuss the death of the short story. Of course, it’s not dead; just starving its practitioners so the discussion moved along the usual streambeds of how to write and sell short stories and the changing nature of the market with the emergent on-line movement. That brought us up to closing ceremonies, dinner, a short night’s sleep, and back on the road back to the mountain.

As with most conventions, the people were wonderful and appreciative, the organizers and volunteers indefatigable and generous, and the convention was an overall success. The attendees are, on average, a bit younger than in the north and, consequently, not as overwhelmingly versed in their knowledge of the early writers (although very conversant in the later writers). Other than this slight difference, sci-fi people are sci-fi people.

I then return from the comfortable confines of my peers to the ‘real’ world where I get to fight with the car rental company over a chip in the car’s paint and mundane who think I took a three day weekend instead of a tiring but necessary journey that is part of the work I do.

Okay, next to hype some specific people.

Midsouth Convention Report (Part 3 of a half-dozen or so)

2009-04-17T17:11:00.000-05:00

Since I wasn’t scheduled for anything until late Saturday, I didn’t even show up to the convention until after noon. I talked with Bill, Allan, and the Gambers then wandered over to chat with Glen Cook and finally Tyree Campbell from Samsdot. Better still, Lynn Abbey had snuck into the convention unannounced and I got to talk with her about Robert and several other folks we have in common. This was the first time we’ve met face-to-face but, because of the people we share, I felt like I already knew her. Let me just say, she is one classy lady. She had come up to see C. J. Cherryh whom I also got to meet. I also pestered Jeremy and Joy at their signing then talked to Dr. Les Johnson about dark matter and some other non-fiction physics coolness. (In case I forget to mention it later, I think ConClave and especially Penguicon should consider inviting Les as a science guest.)

After this, I wandered upstairs to do a panel with Mr. Resnick, Mr. Ostrander, Ruth Souther, and another really nice person whose name I forgot. (I’m sorry, truly. It’s not a matter of being disrespectful or anything like that; it’s just that I don’t remember names well and I lost my program so I can’t cheat and look it up.) The panel was on how to kill character’s you love. Mostly we use bullets or blunt objects although Mr. Ostrander (who writes for comics) cheats because he gets to bring them back in a few issues. Once that was settled, we wandered over a dozen different topics related to the industry (as usually happens at conventions) and I argued with Mike. Not violently, we just disagree on certain subjects. For example, I consider the short story a loss-leader and therefore part of my marketing presence instead of a for-profit act. Mike thinks if you sell your words cheap, that means you don’t value your work and therefore aren’t professional. It’s a business decision that we disagree on so we argue, politely. It was a lot like when I argue with Scalzi. We just have different business models but we still get along personally.

I went to Jeremy and Allan’s panel (yes, there were other people but they were the two I knew and went for) on horror from Lovecraft to King. Once it was over, since we both had panels coming up on the same floor, Jeremy and I stood around and talked about writing and projects we had stashed away in our idea boxes that we were trying to get to when we found the time. (Inside baseball—I think maybe Jeremy and I should talk about doing the fairy realm detective/justice outside of time series together. You know, in our spare time.)

Before we headed to our separate panels, Dan Gamber grabbed me and introduced me to Anne VanderMeer. Again, the first time to meet face-to-face but we’ve exchanged emails (and mss. and rejection slips) for some time. Jeremy’s panel started but I still had an hour open so I wandered over to talk to Wild Mercy. While they were being interviewed, Andrew was gracious enough to talk to me about an idol of mine, George Alec Effinger (Andrew was in his writers group and knew him for several years before he died. It was an enriching conversation and I’m in his debt for his kindness). I did get to talk to Wild Mercy and thank them for Summer Storm. Both regular readers of this weblog know that I listened to that CD while writing Calamity’s Child and I wanted to say thanks. They thought it was pretty neat that I wrote to their music and I thought it was incredibly exciting that Barry (that’s the giraffe) has finished his song cycle and the CD is out! Steve Lapata joined us and we talked about absent friends, especially Cat’s Laughing, Emma Bull, and Will Shetterly before Steve and I had to go to our panel.

Steve and I were together on the same panel and joined by Glen Cook to discuss high tech weaponry. Pretty much, the best weapon around at any tech level is a rock (especially if you can heave it down a planetary gravity well) so we broadened our discussion to military things in general. It was a great panel that began with cutting edge military tech, progressed back through history as we discussed the timelessness of certain basic tactics and each of us talked about an area of history we were currently reading and the interesting things we were learning. By the end of the panel, we were with Hannibal, sans elephants, harassing Rome. I enjoyed it and I think the audience and the other panelists did too. Steve and I continued our conversation for about another hour before She Who Must Not Be Named arrived to claim me and drag me off to eat and sleep.

Midsouth Convention Report (Part 2 of a half-dozen or so)

2009-04-14T17:08:00.000-05:00

My first programming assignment, and the only one I had on Friday, was a reading for the children’s track. (I am not a children’s author! Does anyone even believe me anymore when I say that?) Since it was Friday, I didn’t expect anyone to show and figured I’d have a quiet hour to get organized. Ha! To my pleasant surprise, I had both children and adults and so “Purple Wings and Troll Snot” put in yet another live performance. (Really need to find a publisher for that thing—it makes too many people too happy to not be in print.) It was here that I got to meet Andrew Fox and, more importantly, his three wonderful sons, Levi, Asher, and Judah. (See! I remember their names. Adults I forget and have to look up in the programming book but anyone shorter than four feet I remember. But I am not a children’s author!) It was a good reading but an interesting way to start the convention. I was panting and trying to catch my breath for the rest of the evening. A kid’s reading is not a reading. It’s throwing yourself down a flight of stairs while reciting a story from memory.

I tagged back in with Bill and Jeremy and was ready to call it a night and head back to the Super 8 when Gary Babb caught me and told me there was a “meet and greet” where the folks could meet the guests. Being one of the guests, I figured I’d best attend and there was free food. I’m already in trouble with my publicist for turning down dinner with an editor so I wasn’t going to turn down free food. Andrew introduced me to Marty Halpern (his editor) and I ended up sitting next to Mr. Resnick talking Africa. When the gathering broke up, Mr. Resnick invited me to come up to the movie room and watch a pair of his short stories with him but, due to the lateness of the hour, I declined and called it a night. It was a good first day, I’d been up since about 6 a. m., and Mike was going to be watching movies until at least 1 in the morning. (I almost forgot to mention, I also met Glen Cook in the dealer room and didn’t recognize him. Somewhere between funny and awkward that.)

Before I managed to make good on my escape, I did an interview (really nice pair of guys) but then I was on my way. Half-an-hour later I found the rental car in the now-packed parking lot and eventually made it back to She Who Must Not Be Named.

Midsouth Convention Report (Part 1 of a half-dozen or so)

2009-04-11T17:05:00.000-05:00

Faithful readers, I, your helpful feline host, have managed to convince the Thin Man that, since he has to fill blog space anyhow (i.e. non-billable words) to give an extended convention report and spread it over several days. He’s still not 100% after the trip (he still has the painful stress/medication reaction rash) but he’s close and so, without further delay, we present an extended discussion of Midsouthcon 27.

Stupid cat, acts like everything should be announced with trumpets. Let me set down a few rules first. I met several folks that I want to talk about separately so I’m going to give you the chronological story and then go back after and talk about the individual people. I also want to make clear that the reason I say so much about things and people is because I have all this space to fill so I can go into it in depth. In no way should this be considered a slight on my long-time home convention ConClave—a people I consider family and love dearly. And I fully intend to discuss this year’s ‘Clave as well.

Anyhow, She Who Must Not Be Named and I left Friday early. She drove, I slept, and we reached Memphis (actually, Olive Branch Mississippi but basically still Memphis) just after mid-day. I settled her into a hotel room and set off up the road to the convention. (Miserable bugger to try to find. Here’s a tip: if you build a convention center, put up a blasted sign—and not one that says ‘Private Drive’; that confused me even worse.) The sight was good although seriously shy on parking.

Going into this, I was stressed like I haven’t been in years. I’d never been to this convention and I didn’t have any ‘inside people’ to look after me (and I only have 5 total hours of programming) so I was scared to death. She Who Must Not Be Named was afraid I was going to be sick before the con; apparently I looked that bad. Gray, to use her term. Needless to say, I was walking soft and timid but, there are certain commonalities to all conventions and I was quickly and efficiently checked in, issued a badge and schedule, and released to my own recognizance. That, of course, was the root of my problem—I don’t know what to do ‘on my own recognizance’ other than leave. I like structure and the familiar. Lacking any clue what was proper social protocol, I opted to swing by the dealer room and talk to my publisher.

It was at this point that my weekend went from scary to very good. Not only was Bill Snodgrass (my publisher) there and happy to see me but so was my favorite Nordic heretic and brother in Christ Jeremy Lewis. I love Jeremy (even if he does eat sushi) and I humbly think he’s fairly fond of me. We get along swimmingly and could talk life and writing for hours on end. Plus, he’s just as non-neurotypical as me.

But it got even better. I discovered Bill’s booth was in the middle of what I jokingly called ‘incest row’ because everyone there was a familiar face from the ill-fated Omegacon. Meadowhawk Publishing was on one side and that means Dan and Jackie Gamber (wonderful people with the ability to make you feel at home in moments) along with their very talented children. (Bill’s two sons were there too but I didn’t get to see much of them.) On the other side was Kerlack Publishing (whose website I can’t get to open up—frustrating since Allan wants to see manuscripts). Not only was Allan Gillsbreath there but his entire rouge’s gallery including such caring and gentle people as Joy Ward. Now I had a place to retreat to and people who knew me.

Guys Read Short Stories

2009-04-07T13:12:00.000-05:00

We rarely talk about specific short stories but there’s one that deserves a special mention. Originally copywritten in 1928 and published in The Eternal Moment and Other Stories, The Machine Stops by E. M. Forster is worthy of designation as a masterwork. It’s prescient sight of modern society, it’s delicate treatment of a subject that could, in a lesser work, degenerate into a sermon instead of a story, and the author’s ability to strike that all-to-rare balance between dystopia and hope all combine for a truly powerful effect. It is also a layered piece, on of the few stories that benefit from immediate rereading. The Thin Man read it twice, once to himself and then again to SHE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED aloud. Each reading was a different experience, the difference in cadences and retracing of steps with fresh eyes revealed nuances and truly artistic touches that are the mark of a truly great piece. We strongly recommend you seek out a copy of this work and read it, at least once. It is, after all, quite fitting for the “spirit of the age”.

Requiem

2009-04-04T13:05:00.000-05:00

We gather here today to pay tribute to one of our fallen, a mighty warrior who has passed on into the Dream of a Thousand Cats and whose clay has returned once more to the earth. The great Xenocrates is gone. He, whose kittenish face looks down from the tree boughs, whose visage watches over all who enter the website. Xenocrates, son of Lola and a wandering bobcat, brother of Chuckie and of the changeling Euisgue (now returned to the glamor) has left us.

It falls to me, as is my right as eldest, to tell you of him and I alone among you am qualified to tell. I, Chaos, the Mighty Kos, Lord of the Guild, am older than you all. I was there when Xeno, fourth of the litter of four plus one, was born. He was never timid, as kitten or cat, and in the end I fear the very boldness which endeared him to us all may have led to his undoing. As we look at his body, massed with scar tissue, misshapen from poorly healed bones, we must remember that his tattered clay is a monument to his life and a testment that he surely lived more than nine lives.

I remember well his first great injury, the breaking of the tail. It entered into his young mind that he need not pause at the top of the slat fence but that he could leap it in a single bound. He did. His tail did not. And so he hung, tail caught between the slats, bones broken, tail twisted at an angle, waiting patiently until the Thin Man arrived with thumbs to extract him. And once free, did Xeno tend his wounds and sulk to the house? No. He immediately rose and attempted to leap the fence again—and hence the 'z' in his tail. But he did learn to clear the fence and once across he discovered upon the bordering property a live trap, baited with food laced with poison. And after the Thin Man freed him from the trap, he returned again while our thumbed guardian was still trying to hoist himself back over the fence. Twice freed and well cursed, he returned home. Of the poison, he never showed any ill effect. For Xenocrates was a cat of strong constitution if, perhaps, low wisdom.

His battles with the Thin Man over bathing are the thing of viking legend. What other creature has ever fought so hard and done so much damage to the Thumbed One and lived? Who else has the courage to strike the human in the eye and, piercing his lower eyelid, hang on with all his weight to insure the point is made? And did the Thin Man begrudge him this? Well, yes. But such was the loving, jovial nature of Xeno that eventually he was forgiven. A greater accomplishment, I cannot think of.

Throughout his troubled, violent life, sporting a broken nose and torn ear, Xeno was always a friend to dogs. To his last day, he was a friend to the collies of the farm and a willing playmate of any canine who came to visit. I believe he even felt kindly toward the savage beast that, years ago, crushed his ribcage, broke his shoulderblade, and left him for dead. Four long days, our Xed was missing before he turned up on the doorstep bloodied and battered, dried dog saliva matting his fur, but I doubt he held emnity for the perpetrator. Such was not his way. Though the injuries would leave him permanently twisted and lacking one lung, Xee-brick persevered, loving dogs and believing "A cat must do what a cat must do while being who he is." And Xeno was a forgiving cat, filled with love and optimism—and loyalty.

The dedication of Xenocrates to She Who Must Not Be Named is the stuff of legend. Being a cat, he was incapable of resisting any tempting female with a handful of treats and his attention span was, to put it kindly, shorter than most, but his heart belonged to his human. He was her jester, her battered baby boy, friend and playmate, clumsy fool and discerning wise man. We are shamed by the depths of her grief but we are but cats and we know that, though the clay rests, the spirit of Xeno has returned to the Dream and waits for the humans to carry his soul to heaven. Perhaps the Thin Man will explain, perhaps he will not, but we are secure in the knowledge that, in a way, animals do go to heaven, returning with their owners just as, in the end, the humans return to theirs.

Lift high your glasses and toast the fallen hero. Xenocrates has sailed upon the black barge; fire your flaming arrows true. This day a new hero runs headfirst into the table legs in the feasthall of Valhalla. This day, the broken hero returns to the Dream. Give grief for the living and glory for the fallen.

Post-Con

2009-03-28T15:20:00.002-05:00

It's been several days so I tip-toed in on little cat feet to see how the Thin Man was doing. He was still in bed, watching me with one baleful, blood-shot eye.

"What do you want, cat?"

"Time to update the blog."

He groaned. "Fine. Make something up." I waited and finally he continued in a sepulchuric voice. "You know, I go to conventions and take more medicine than I ought to but I feel like I do pretty good. By the time I come home, I'm starting to think that I'm not that crazy after all and that maybe I could go out more often if I wanted to...then I get home. Once I go back down on the meds and the manic phase passes..." He groaned again and pulled the blankets over his head.

"DTs?" I asked.

"Not too bad. My stomach's torn all to pieces though. The shaking is mostly exhaustion. The worst is the way that my head feels full of cotton. What day is it?"

"Saturday. You've been down all week."

"Five days? That's not too bad. I'll be up tomorrow."

With that I left him and wished he was exaggerating.

One More Question

2009-03-24T15:27:00.000-05:00

And one more question to clear the backlog while we're waiting for the Thin Man to recover from his road trip: Why is your blog so scattered? Why not stick to one subject instead of wandering all over the place?

Ummm, because I left a cat in charge of it and they're really known for their attention span? Actually, I think the topics are closely related if you look close enough. Then again, I also agree with Fort that "One begins a circle drawing anywhere." and that everything is interrelated.

The other answer is that I am a raccoon (or maybe a crow). Like most authors, everything I do in life ties back to scuttling around, finding neat shiny things that attract my attention, then bringing them back and showing them off to you, the reader. That puts me all over the board in interests, makes me knowledgeable about many things and master of none, and leaves me a repository of hosts of worthless trivia but, I think, it also makes me a better author (and able to write about a broader range of things). In the case of the weblog, the cat frequently ends up with the odd scraps that I haven't found a place for yet or that I want to share but their project may not come up in the queue for quite some time.

I'm also curious, why is there a presumption that blogs should be about a specific area of interest? Are there unwritten (or written) rules or some kind of meme governing the medium?

Guys Read Anybody Named E. E.

2009-03-18T15:23:00.000-05:00

Way of the Wolf (Book One of The Vampire Earth) by E. E. Knight
The back cover of the paperback edition includes a quote from Paul Witcover, describing the books as “…(if) The Red Badge of Courage had been written by H. P. Lovecraft.” It is a fair description, perhaps also with a dash of the movie Red Dawn and some coloring from White Wolf’s World of Darkness. The Old Ones are on top and the free fringes of the human cattle fight against them.
The book is structured as a series of vignettes, major moments in the life of the central character. Knight uses the in medias res technique to hook the reader immediately then works into flashbacks. The characters are adequate with occasional flashes of real brilliance. The action is well described and paced nicely—fast enough to read well and convey urgency, slow enough to allow the reader to absorb the nuances of the setting. The underlying concept is, obviously, genre-blending and presented smoothly without heavy-handed plot devices or hackneyed clichés. Dialogue is a tool Knight uses to his advantage and he definitely has a knack for it—realistic and informative. Theme and plot are necessarily simple but, in the first book of a series, this is not a weakness. Character and milieu drive the work.
The book is reasonably self-contained and the second book of The Vampire Earth is scheduled for release in May 2004. The book and the series promise to be an enjoyable mixture of military (guerrilla) adventure and horror, both content and style are reminiscent of Matheson’s classic I Am Legend. As happens with increasing frequency these days, the author’s website provides even more information on the series and more details on the backdrop setting.
On a related note, E. E. Knight is most likely a rising star in genre writing (and yes, I know it's a pseudonym). Not only is he talented but he has spent his time in the trenches, has an impressive portfolio of short work, and has shown the single most important skill in a writer—a workman’s ethic, the willingness to work hard and long based on faith in his own abilities irrespective of the whims of fate and editors. This hard work is beginning to pay off. In addition to The Vampire Earth books, Knight has also been tapped by Del Ray to write a new Lara Kroft Tomb Raider novel for mid-2004.
The recommended reading is Knight’s own list of influences and respected peers.

Recommended Reading:
Lord of the Rings et. al. by J. R. R. Tolkien
The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich by Shirer
R. E. Howard, any and all, esp. the Conan series
C. S. Forester’s Horatio Hornblower series
Watership Down by Richard Adam
Alan Dean Foster, any and all, esp. the Commonwealth books
Robert Lumley’s Necroscope series
Risen by J. Knight (an e-book)
Earthcore by Scott Siegler
The Fan-Shaped Destiny of William Seabrook by Paul Pipkin

(This review original written and published in Kilimanjaro magazine, reprinted with permission.)

Questions on Chapter Titles

2009-03-15T15:22:00.000-05:00

Another question for the Thin Man today: Why do you name your chapters instead of just numbering them?

Why? Why not?

Seriously, why not? Whether the chapter is headed with the words "Subject Real" or "Chapter One" it's still the same amount of space in the book and the same cost in the project. That's the way I look at it; those words are a chance for me to add value to the book with no additional cost to the reader or the publisher. Plus, unlike the main narrative, chapter titles (or headers or whatever you want to call them) can be slightly non sequitor and sometimes you can do more with allusion than direct illustration. For example, the chapter "Dante's Fourth, by Gaslight" in "Calamity's Child". The reference to gaslight presets the reader's mind to Victorian imagery and the fourth circle of Hell in Dante's inferno was reserved for hoarders and wasters. Themes and images are set before the chapter even begins. Obviously, the technique of naming chapters doesn't work for every book but, if it can be done, I see no reason not to do it.

ConspiriThursday

2009-03-12T15:20:00.001-05:00

Conspiracy Notes:
Disclaimer: The following information is presented for consideration only. The author assumes no exclusive responsibility for the accuracy of the information (although the attempt has been made to be wholly factual). Unless expressly stated, the author does not necessarily agree with the conclusions implied by the data presented. In other words, this stuff is for you to look at and start researching yourself if it strikes a cord. Don't blame us for what you find, don't assume we mean everything we bring up for consideration, and don't take our word as a final authority. We're talking about conspiracies here; we just might lie.

Welcome to the world of Jude St. James...

Gun Control

1929--USSR implements gun control. 1929-1953--approximately 20 million dissidents executed by the state.

1938--Germany implements gun control. 1939-1945--13 million Jews, gypsies, and others executed by the state.

1935--China implements gun control. 1948-1952--20 million dissidents executed by the state.

You see the pattern, and the above only skims the tip of the iceberg. Gun control can be traced to the execution of around 60 million killed by their own government in purges shortly after it disarms its citizens. And now, the UK wants to outlaw knives. What the heck are they thinking about?

Meanwhile, governments continue to develop weapons designed, not to kill, but to subjegate: Acoustic rifles, microwave rifles, a pulse-wave rifle designed to cause muscle spasms, psychotronic generators, and ultrasound generators. (Of these, ultrasound is the most commonly known to the public since it is already being used productively on a small scale as a surgical tool.)

Midsouth Convention

2009-03-09T15:09:00.003-05:00

So, yes indeed we are sending the Thin Man to another southern convention. It's no great secret that he's been looking for a southern home con (I'd consider ConClave his first and northern home convention--lovely people) and hopefully this will work out. Below, I've posted his tentative programming schedule. If you're interested in the convention, their website is midsouthcon.org and they're located just outside Memphis TN.

A quick glance at the schedule will leave long time fans thinking "Well, that's a good start but where are the other two-thirds of his panels"? Thus far, these are the only ones they have him scheduled for so by all means drop by and chat with him.

Date Time Event Name Location Name
03/20/2009 17:00:00 M Keaton Children’s Reading Juniper
03/21/2009 16:00:00 Killing a Character You Love Ash
03/21/2009 21:00:00 High Tech Weapons Panel Ash
03/22/2009 10:00:00 Writing for Children Ash
03/22/2009 14:00:00 Is the Short Story Dead? Ash

Just for fun, I asked the Thin Man for a preview of his view on the topics:

Children's Reading: I'm all in favor of children reading. Oh, you mean I'm reading to them. In that case, I'd say look forward to Purple Wings and Troll Snot.

Killing a Character You Love: I use bullets.

High Tech Weapons Panel: Can you say two years of research for CSW? Stuff goes boom. Maybe I'll even bring up Q-Balls.

Writing for Children: Don't cuss as much.

Is the Short Story Dead? No. Is the bank account of the short story writer dead? Yes.

Still nuts...

2009-03-06T17:20:00.000-06:00

(This is, in a way, a follow-up to the telephone post so I'll get right to the Thin Man.)

I mentioned before that just being around me is hell on my wife (though she never complains or begrudges me a moment of it). I think, in the context of mental illness, the greatest untold tragedy is the toll it takes on the family and, specifically, spouses. I've been trying to figure out a way to explain this that doesn't sound like the normal platitudes spewed by every doctor and councilor in the field because it's a more complicated and more subtly destructive dynamic than the "oh, form a support group and share your problems" kind of approach a lot of people give it. Let me speak of spouses specifically although I think most other family connections suffer a variant on the theme.

First off, we marry people who are like ourselves. Maybe not as completely nuts but people who understand—and this means that, most of the time, they're not that far from the edge of normal themselves. Add to that the fact that dealing with a mentally ill spouse (especially like in my case where I was diagnosed after we were married and I suffered a complete collapse) is enough to drive anyone into deep depression. The result is that, de facto, I broke my wife. Imagine two rods welded together supporting a terrible strain. Together, they can bear the load but, if one of them breaks, one of two things is going to happen. Either the weld (the marriage itself) gives way or the other rod bends or breaks itself (and sometimes both). That's the best way I can find to illustrate it. That's bad, but it gets worse.

Once the certifiable non-neurotypical is under treatment, medical disability, and all the other measures designed to help that person, the spouse is very, very reluctant (often refuses, flat out) to use those same facilities for themselves. They don't think that they deserve this same care (after all, they're nowhere near as sick as their spouse), they refuse assistance (since their spouse is already there and it just doesn't seem proper), and they draw in on themselves. At least the "officially sick" person has the freedom to be sick; the spouse typically tries to simply soldier on and hold things together. And, because the spouse has to be the strong and protective member of the partnership, they tend to be regarded and treated poorly by other family members who don't understand that maybe they're not up to coming to the stupid family dinner and playing nice-nice social games for hours about nothing when they really NEED a few hours alone. And they don't really have the patience (and definitely no sympathy) to listen to somebody stand around and whine about how they didn't get that raise at work when they're trying to figure out how to pay the next electric bill. Other people, even relatives, don't know the full picture (nor really should they) and human's tend to kill there wounded rather than take care of them. Suddenly, the spouse becomes an outcast from the very people who ought to be helping them the most. It's not about support groups and therapy; it's about realizing that the spouse of a non-neurotypical is under an incredible amount of permanent stress and looking outside your narrow, self-centered world and trying to help—without understanding.

So, what's my point? Simply this: If you know a mentally ill person who is managing to do a credible impression of functioning, then go say thank you to their family and, most especially, their spouse. They are much more important than all the doctors and medications in the world.

Telephones

2009-03-03T17:13:00.000-06:00

A few people have noticed that the Thin Man avoids the telephone like the plague and even asks editors and publishers to email first and set up times when they're going to call. It seems a strange behavior so I thought I'd have him explain it and how it relates to his neurological state. (Okay, boss, you're on.)

It's kind of hard to explain, actually. I guess I should start at the beginning and take the long route like I usually do. This may be difficult for normal people to understand but, some days, it's all I can do to hold my head on with both hands and get through the day. People will ask, "What did you do today?" and my answer is, "Lived" and they think I'm joking but I'm not. There are triggers and medications and a host of contributing and mitigating factors but even so, half of my mood swings and problems are effectively random (indeed, my current theory is that the weather and barometric pressure specifically may play a very significant role). So, some mornings I get up and I'm overwhelmed just by the job of being alive and not hurting anyone, my head's stuffed with cotton and my thoughts move at the speed of molasses, and every nerve is a raw ending where the slightest sound is like fingernails on slate. Worse yet, I'm so strung out and tense when this happens that I'm an emotional sponge, soaking up the slightest tension or anxiety from anyone around me, so much so that I'll read things into other people's statements and body language that aren't there or that is a massive over-reaction. I know I'm that way and that's part of why I choose to live like a hermit in a tarpaper shack on the side of a mountain. (Let me assure you, it's hell on my wife too. Any good thing I ever did or wrote, you can blame on her because without her, I'd be locked up or dead by now. Tragically, she's had to give up a lot of her own life and dreams because of it.)

On a day like this, I've only got two options. I can try to write as best I can (which usually involved a lot of staring at blank pages and very little progress) or I can take the medication I'm supposed to when this happens (but if I do that, then I'm so groggy I have to go back to bed and sleep all day). Usually, I try to write. And that brings us to the telephone.

Even on a good day, I startle easy. Loud noises, surprises, interruption—all these things throw me for a complete tailspin, not just when they happen, but for about an hour after while I settle back down and try to get my concentration back. The telephone is a loud noise, a surprise, and an interruption (the use of a "deaf" phone eliminates the former but not the two latter problems). (To add insult to injury, I also have mild auditory hallucinations resulting from short, recurring noises. Which is to say that, once the telephone rings, I may continue to hear it ring faintly for an hour after. I have the same kind of problem with construction, traffic, etc.) In other words, one telephone call can really mess up the day.

The phone is never good news. People use the phone when there's a problem or an emergency. Good news comes by mail. Furthermore, the basic premise of the telephone is rude. The demanding bell screaming for attention is based on the assumption that I have nothing better to do than drop what I'm working on and race to attend to whatever random demand awaits on the other end of the line—an incredible level of hubris. With all of this in mind, I would hope you can understand why I don't like the phone and frequently have it unplugged when I work and why I ask people who need to call me to email first and schedule a time so that I can be prepared for their call. I honestly don't think that's too much to ask.

While I'm on the subject, let me answer another question/accusation. When the telephone is on, do I screen my calls? Heck yes, and why wouldn't I? Trust me, it's in your best interest if I do. Depending on what the call is, I can decide if I can handle the call plus, if you're calling to leave important information, I'd rather have it recorded so I can review it later and make sure I have all the important details. I know that in our brave new world of Blackteeth and Blueberries where everyone is wearing an earwig this makes me a bit of an oddball but, well, that's my call and, honestly, I think the entire world would be better off pulling out their ear-placebos and dealing with the real people around them. Ah, but I'm just a grumpy nutcase anyhow.

Guys Read Anthologies by Dead Guys

2009-02-28T17:19:00.000-06:00

May There Be a Road (a collection of short stories) by Louis L’Amour
At this point, there are very few compliments left unbestowed on L’Amour. He was a major force in the development of western literature, so much so, that his non-western works, especially those from early in his career, have been obscured. In correction of this, the reading public has come to owe a debt to his wife Kathy, daughters Angelique and Beau, and Bantam Books, for recovering and reprinting these rare gems in a series of posthumous collections.
May There Be a Road is most notable for its title story and the inclusion of another Ponga Jim Mayo tale. Ponga Jim Mayo was an early prototype of the “Indiana Jones” style of World War Two adventuring hero. May There Be a Road is historical tale writing by L’Amour in 1960 in an attempt to educate and alert the American people to the significance of the Red Chinese invasion of the Tibetan plateau.
Readers familiar with L’Amour’s westerns will find the stories in this collection simultaneously familiar and different as tales otherwise lost are resurrected and presented again for another generation.

Related Reading:
Louis L’Amour, any and all, esp. Bantam’s posthumous short story collections

Foreshadowing

2009-02-25T17:17:00.000-06:00

We had a question a few weeks back from a (significantly) younger writer and the Thin Man wanted to repost his answer here. I left the questioner's name off since I don't know if he would want to be identified (can't figure out why not but I suppose it's not always safe to be affiliated with the Thin Man).

Q: I have a question about writing. Do you consciously use foreshadowing and other things we look for in English class?

To answer your question on foreshadowing--yes, I do it a lot, especially in my horror. A lot of foreshadowing comes naturally though. Let me see if I can explain that: When you study the techniques in lit. classes, it looks like the author spends a lot of time going back and planting clues and doing all these fancy techniques. When I was in school, I reached the point I looked at all that stuff and said to myself "I'm not smart enough to write" and decided to just tell my stories and be done with. What I found out is that a lot of the fancy techniques aren't techniques as much as they are part of the writing itself. For example, if I'm writing a story and I know that one of the characters is actually a were-panther, I use a lot of feline descriptive terms for that character. It makes sense and it kind of sets the reader up to accept that revelation when it occurs. To an English teacher, that's foreshadowing. To me, it's a natural part of the process.

Reading Lately

2009-02-22T17:14:00.001-06:00

Once again, I prowl through the Thin Man's stacks to see what he's been reading. I've finally figured out a way to keep track of it. Since he's semi-homeless, he lives out of boxes. All I have to do is check the outgoing box to see what he's read in the last month. The only thing I miss are the library books. Once I get that figured out, I'll finally be able to see what he reads and relate it to all of you. (That is, both people who have accidentally ended up here looking for something else and are too dazzled by all the gorgeous cat pictures to look away.)

Earthman, Come Home, Black Easter, and Day of Judgment by James Blish
Paying the Piper and The Military Dimension (Mark II) by David Drake
Fleet (Book 1) edited by Drake and Fawcett
The Wizard and the Warlord by Elizabeth Boyer
The Destroyer #46: Next of Kin by Warren Murphy
The Burglar in the Library and Everybody Dies by Lawrence Block
Skeleton Man by Tony Hillerman
Mind of My Mind by Octavia Butler
H. P. Lovecraft's Book of the Supernatural edited by Steven Jones
The Light Fantastic edited by Harry Harrison
Skeleton Crew by Steven King
(plus about twenty graphic novels including all the Hellboy stories)

ConspiriThursday

2009-02-19T17:11:00.000-06:00

Disclaimer: The following information is presented for consideration only. The author assumes no exclusive responsibility for the accuracy of the information (although the attempt has been made to be wholly factual). Unless expressly stated, the author does not necessarily agree with the conclusions implied by the data presented. In other words, this stuff is for you to look at and start researching yourself if it strikes a cord. Don't blame us for what you find, don't assume we mean everything we bring up for consideration, and don't take our word as a final authority. We're talking about conspiracies here; we just might lie.

Welcome to the world of Jude St. James...
A few people know that FEMA has constructed approximately 43 primary and over 100 secondary "relocation" facilities to house and constrain refugees from massive natural disasters. Depending on your faith in government this is either completely understandable or more than a little eerie but the power granted to FEMA through recent Executive Orders is a little disturbing.

Executive Order 10995--Authorizes FEMA to seize all communications media in US

Executive Order 10997--Authorizes FEMA to seize all electric poser, petroleum, gas, fuels, and minerals both public and private

Executive Order 10998--Authorizes FEMA to seize all food supplies and resources, public and private, including all farms, lands, and equipment

Executive Order 10999--Authorizes FEMA to seize all means of transport including personal cars, trucks, or vehicles of any kind and total control of all highways, seaports, and waterways

Executive Order 11000--Authorizes the seizure of all American people for federally supervised work forces. If deemed necessary, families may be split up.

Executive Order 11001--Authorizes seizure of all functions of health, education, and welfare

Executive Order 11002--Empowers the postmaster general to conduct a national registration of all persons whereupon families may be separated and members assigned to new areas

Executive Order 11003--Authorizes the take over of all airports and aircraft, commercial, public, and private

Executive Order 11004--Authorizes Housing and Finance Authority to relocate communities, designate areas to be abandoned, and designate new areas to be repopulated

Executive Order 11005--Authorizes seizure of all railroads, inland waterways, and public storage facilities (presumably including their contents)

Executive Order 11051--Activates FEMA's extended powers during times of increased international or domestic tension (beyond the previous limit of natural disasters/emergencies)

Executive Order 12148--Places FEMA in charge during national security emergencies including, not only natural disasters, but also national unrest, insurrection, or national social crisis

Progress Report

2009-02-16T17:07:00.001-06:00

Once again, I risked the ire of my (lesser) boss and demanded a progress report so that you, both devoted readers will know what's going on behind the scenes. The look that came with the answer sent me clawing for cover.

"Still not a damned thing! Except for shorts, and blasted few of those, I haven't made progress on anything. It's no excuse but it's been a madhouse around here—even worse than usual. We had all those strangers (he means relatives) crawling all over the place for the so-called holidays then I had to pack up all my junk and move it to a different place for storage. Twice! Then that bleeding ice storm and moving down into the hybrid tin can/tar paper shack and now I don't even have an office, for screaming out loud! No excuses. Circumstances don't matter—they can't. If you let 'em, you'll starve to death before you get to perfect day to work. I'm just lazy."

Fair enough point, I suppose but, he's right. It has been crazy, even by cat standards. "So, what's coming up?"

"Well, it looks like I'll be at Midsouth Con the end of March, so there's my spring convention on the schedule. As far as writing, I got a bunch more papers from Drexler on nanotech but I think I'm going to hold off on more research until I get farther into the story. 'Tales Out of Miskatonic' is still supposed to come out sometime this year. 'Calamity's Child' is still being serialized over at RGR. Still no takers on 'Troll Snot' or 'Red Scythian'. That leaves me working on 'Chuin Sarte's Wall'; probably starting over again and trying to focus on character's more. I don't like the beginning—feels flat. Normally, I'd say just keep on writing and fix it after the book's done but, since I've been DOA so long, I think a restart is probably justified."

"Anything else?"

"Probably but I'm tired. Go away, cat. Your blog posts are non-billable hours."

And there we are. Anyone not already on the Mewses list who wants to kibitz on CSW as it gets grinding again, shoot me an email and I'll add you to the list. While you're at it, let me know if I should talk the Thin Man into another contest.

All the Trees Look Dead and the Sky is Grey

2009-02-13T14:07:00.000-06:00

It's been a strange (and rough) couple of weeks, bad enough, in fact, that I've seen the Thin Man toss his meds into his mouth and chew them dry rather than taking the time to run a glass of water and swallow them properly. (He dropped one a few months back and I got excited thinking it was a cat treat because of the sound when it bounce. Let me assure you, they're as bitter as quinine and I slept for about two days straight.)

Anyway, I've been putting off cornering him for the weblog until things settled down a bit. I finally caught up with him this morning, standing on the side of the mountain, just kind of staring out across all the downed trees and broken trunks.

"Write what you know," he said when I sat down beside him to wash my paws. I had no idea what brought it up. He's like that—sometimes you join his mental conversation already in progress. You get used to it after a while. "Oldest advice in this business, cat. Write what you know."

"Sure," I agreed. "What's the problem with that?"

He snorted and smiled in that weird kind of way that has no trace of humor in it. "Do you know what I know? Frustration, anger, disappointment, despair—that's what I know."

"And fear," I added.

"Lawd but I know about fear, for a surety." He stood there a while and I didn't say anything. I figure human pity-parties are spectator sports, not something I need to participate in.

"Now, here's the weird part of it," he says at last. "You know the one thing I don't really know? The same thing people think I write about. Both books and my short stories too, I get mail telling me that my writing is full of hope. Figure that, boyo. Hope. The one thing I'm not sure if I'd know if it bit me in the fundament and somehow people are seeing it creep into my writing." He laughed and shook his head. "Don't worry you're fuzzy head; I'll get back to writing and your webish stuff soon enough. Right now, I've got to go cut brush. It looks bad now but I reckon, come spring, there'll be forest enough. Trees are tough."

I let him go and didn't press for more. There's no point talking to him when he's this fey. For my own purposes, I'm wondering what both people that read this mess though of the sciency stuff (was it clear enough, too boring, etc.) and what you'd like to see next. I'm thinking of asking the Thin Man to talk theology and maybe give a peak into the background work of a couple of projects he's got on the burner.

What a Week

2009-02-06T15:09:00.002-06:00

Just after the last post went up, the lines came down--in a big way. The local news stations have been calling last week's ice storm as the worst in a decade. The Thin Man is marginally more sanguine on the subject ("We lived.") but no one is denying that it's been rough. From a cat's-eye-view, it's the first time I've ever seen so much ice that it is not only hanging down from every tree limb, ridge line, and wire in sight but also pushing up from the ground like stalagmites. I could go on to tell tales of horror, relating how the road was blocked for two days until the Thin Man cut his way out with a hand saw, how we ran out of propane, the cold--the terrible, terrible cold like something from a Jack London novel, and how it took over a week for electricity to be returned, but that would just be whining.

It is enough simply to say that we survived (slightly the worse for wear though) and will resume our normal broadcasting schedule shortly.

Guys Read Old Beat-Up Copies

2009-01-24T15:18:00.000-06:00

We love old books.

The Mad King by Edgar Rice Burroughs
With the success of Burroughs’ series—Venus, Mars, Tarzan, Pellucidar—many of his self-contained novels have been overlooked and, while the others were reprinted, these other works allowed to fade from memory. Certainly, The Mad King deserves a better fate and is worth the effort to track down and acquire. Set at the turn of the nineteenth century, the book is best described with adjectives such as skullduggery and swashbuckling. In the timeframe, the sword is as useful as the single-shot revolver and a horse can be a more reliable means of transportation than an automobile. Within this setting, Burroughs is able to combine modern intrigue with individual heroism to achieve a maximum of adventure on top of a complex plot.
Like the more popular Prisoner of Zenda by Hope, Burroughs uses the plot mechanic of look-alike traveler and prince along with mistaken identity to put his pieces into play. The heroes are noble, women pure, and villains unambiguously evil—traits all to rare in most ‘modern’ literature and a refreshing change of pace.

Related Reading:
Edgar Rice Burroughs, any and all
Prisoner of Zenda by Anthony Hope
Graustark by George Barr McCutcheon
The Phoenix Guard by Steven Brust

Dark Matter, New Wheels On the Wagon

2009-01-21T15:14:00.000-06:00

"Hey, it's time again."
"Five more minutes."
"No, boss. Now. Wake up."
"I'm old, let me sleep. You're a cat, you should understand the importance of a solid 14 hours a day."
"Last one, I promise."
"Sure. Until next time. Do you have any idea how much hate mail I get?"
"It's good for your blood pressure. Now go."
"Fine, fine..."

A final problem:
Recent observations have indicated that the expansion rate of the universe is actually increasing, invalidating numerous previous assumptions and putting the theory of Quintessence (Ether) back into play. This problem has revitalized superstring theory (previously dismissed in the early 1970s in favor of Quantum chromodynamics) and bringing Maxwell's unification of electricity, magnetism, and light back to the fore of discussion.

At the root of the entire discussion is the blind assumption that Einstein's unified space-time continuum is correct. The sticking point is and always has been gravity.

So, let me offer a different theory altogether. It increasingly looks like Maxwell was right (I'd say it's just about a done deal at this point, as much as science can close a deal. Remember, science as a tool cannot prove anything. It only disproves things until we are left with a sufficiently limited scope of functioning theories.) It also is very possible that Einstein's general relativity is wrong and that Lorentzian Relativity (LR) is right. Now factor in the idea from quantum mechanics that there can be additional dimensions. (Last time I looked, we were up to a minimum of four and a maximum of eleven depending on which formula you need to make your math work for string theory. This is another area more rightly classified as pre-science than true science. It's early in the game still.)

LR allows faster-than-light propagation (a phenomenon already demonstrated experimentally back in about 2005) and it assumes time is not, in fact, inextricably bound with space into a single continuum. Time exists independently of space and therefore can, within certain boundaries, have an absolute value. (Remember, Einstein's theories of specific and general relativity are difference theories and Einstein himself proposed a universal constant.)

(I would like to side track here for a moment to observe that the clocks within all orbital GPS satellites are synchronized and have evidenced no time dilation despite years of different speeds. This should be impossible under general relativity and yet, as far as I know, this phenomenon has never been properly addressed.)

So, taking FTL propagation and space-time separation from LR and multiple dimensions from quantum mechanics and applying this against the observed gravimetric quandaries of Dark Matter, I ask, why not a second dimension of TIME rather than space. There has never been any reason to assume that extra dimensions must be spatial and the idea comes a lot closer to explaining the observed gravimetric data than making up an entire host of random magically invisible particles. What if the gravimetric effects that we cannot explain currently are because the force of gravity extends into a second temporal dimension? Mass (or more precisely masses) out of temporal phase with our universe would fit all the criteria of Dark Matter with fewer complications. It may very well be that gravity turns out to be the unifying universal force instead of the half-ignored, despised step-child that modern physics treats it as. Do I think my idea is the one true and perfect answer? Absolutely not. I do, however, think it deserves equal consideration with the other theories that have been presented and I also think that our blind subservience to the theory of general relativity has gone on long enough. Rather than build new castles in the air, it is time to re-examine the foundation beneath. Just as Einstein assaulted the orthodoxy of Newtonian physics, it is legitimate to question in turn the orthodoxy of Einstein.

Ah but what do I know? I'm just a crazy old man.

Dark Matter, Nomenclatural Nightmares

2009-01-18T15:12:00.000-06:00

"Shut up, cat, I got it."

And now,
Back to the theories:

WIMPs--Weakly Interacting Massive Particles. Mathematically, Sparticales must be significantly much more massive than their partners and interact only where very weak nuclear forces are involved. Thus, SUSY particles are often discussed as WIMP. Theoretically, WIMPs would have been formed during the big bang but, being unstable, decayed into lighter particles. This makes the most likely candidate for actual detection the LSP (lightest supersymmetrical particle) considered to be either the photino or something referred to as the neutralino (because it may be a quantum mixture of different neutral sparticles). It has been postulated that MACHOs may be comprised of WIMPs or that WIMPs permeate the universe to account for the matter discrepancy.

Neutrinos--A neutral charge particle of mass similar to that of an electron. Neutrinos have been tentatively detected through experiments within nuclear reactors. Neutrinos may make up a portion of Dark Matter but lack sufficient mass to account for the whole. Further, many astronomers now argue (based on cosmic background radiation) that Dark Matter cannot be baryonic matter. Neutrinos are actually fermionic but act similar enough to baryonic to remove them from contention as an explanation. Because of their properties, neutrinos would form hot Dark Matter and most astronomers (again based on the background radiation) believe Dark Matter must be cold. (Hot and cold referring to mass, interaction, etc.)

SIDM (also called SIMPs)--Self-Interacting Dark Matter (Strongly Interacting Massive Particles). Big fat WIMPs that react strongly instead of weakly, considered to be self-interacting because they have never been observed and therefore cannot be interacting with non-dark matter.

Q-Balls--Lumps of matter that may have formed when sparticles coagulated during the hot dense phase of the early big bang universe. The real fun of Q-Balls is not their possibility of explaining Dark Matter (very unlikely) but that they would blow up REAL good. These would be coagulated balls of squarks and sleptons that, rather than being the actual explosive themselves, would be a quantum catalyst. Fed by a proton stream, the internal sparticles of a Q-Ball would rip proton quarks apart, releasing the fundamental energy of the quarks (about 100X H-bomb yield).

Q-Balls are a good example of where the sci-fi writer in me takes a walk away from the critical scientist. As a theory, even the guys who came up with the idea of Q-Balls say it's highly unlikely and fairly weak. But as an idea to use in a story, it's rich with possibilities and it's scientifically plausible.

Next Time: Quintessence

Dark Matter--Long road to Tipperary

2009-01-15T15:08:00.001-06:00

"Psst, boss."
"I'm on it already."

One of the earliest Dark Matter theories was that of MACHOs.

MACHOs--Massive Compact Halo Objects; theorized massive compact objects the size of small stars formed of dark matter and present in the outer reaches (halos) of galaxies. May be formed of Mirror Matter. This theory most likely still does not provide sufficient "dark matter" to explain observed gravimetric phenomena.

But wait, you say, what's this about Mirror Matter? Is that the universe with the evil Kirk in it?

Well, maybe but not quite. To go much further, we'll have to run through some related, supporting theories and definitions.

Supporting theories:

Negativity--When Dirac discovered electron spin, a problem arose in the equations. Since the equation employed a square root, it allowed for a solution both positive and negative. (The square root is present because Einstein's relativity equation uses the speed of light squared.) That is, mathematically, electrons could possess negative energy. This led him to propose antimatter (matter possessed of negative energy) and the further theory of antiparticles in general. The antielectron or positive electron (positron) is supposed to be observed in the form of cosmic rays.

This lead to the idea of Mirror Matter via the Symmetry argument.

Mirror Matter--Every type of particle in nature has a mirror partner that is utterly invisible (does not interact with light) and can be detected only by its gravity.

SUSY--Supersymmetry. A mathematical framework now accepted as proven that proposes, as a function of the principle of conservation of energy, the net state of the universe must be zero-sum and have particular, physical symmetry. Actual experimental evidence of SUSY is effectively non-existent despite the common assumption of its infallibility. The primary argument in its favor is the philosophical principle that math arises from the forms of nature. Rather than simply a human invention for book-keeping, math is an intrinsic part of the natural form observed and recorded by humans.

Which in turn gives us the nomenclatural nightmare of Sparticles.

Sparticles--Supersymmetric partner particles. The theory that there exists a new subatomic partner for every kind of particle now known within the quantum dimensions (sizeless dimesnions). SUSY quantum theory adds the idea of a fermionic dimension as well as the traditional, observable bosonic dinension. Fermionic (fundamental matter particles) and bosonic (fundamental force particles) particles are necessary to support SUSY via the argument that force and matter are to aspects of the same thing (again, a legacy of Einstein). This argument has merit, beyond merely E=mc2, since the defining feature of a boson vs. a fermion is simply spin. Sparticles are named by placing an 's' in front of the particle they theoretically partner with. I. E. quarks and squarks. Force Sparticles gain 'ino' at the end. I. E. photons and photinos.

Next Time: WIMPs, SIMPs, and Q-Balls!

Dark Matter, What and Why

2009-01-12T15:06:00.000-06:00

"This thing ready, cat?"
"Whenever you are."
"Right, let's get on with it then..."

Let's start of with: Why Dark Matter and What is it?

Dark Matter--Some heavy stuff we can't detect floating around in space. Cosmologists believe its existence is necessary because otherwise all their fancy schemes fall apart. Specifically, the calculable mass of matter in the universe is insufficient to account for the gravimetric effects observed on numerous fronts. Therefore, there must be matter that we are not detecting. I know that sounds like an oversimplification but that's really what it comes down to if you boil away the hype.

Remember when I mentioned circular assumptions? Dark Matter may turn out to be one of the greatest circular assumptions of all time. The entire Dark Matter discussion is predicated on the assumption that our current understanding of gravity is correct and that Einstein's theory of general relativity is also correct. Further, Dark Matter is automatically a metaphysical theory, rather than a scientific physical one, because as yet we can detect no evidence and may never be able to beyond inference. This is a good example of why metaphysics is a fine and useful tool and should not be shoved into the gutter as many scientists today try to do. Without the metaphysical postulation of Dark Matter, we cannot derive hypotheses or experiments to look for Dark Matter and could therefore never elevate it into the category of scientific investigation. In other words, without the roots of metaphysics—the schemes and dreams of 'what if'—we could not make scientific progress. Despite its pre-scientific trappings, Dark Matter is a metaphysical or pseudo-scientific theory (or set of theories) at this point. There is nothing wrong with this so long as we understand that it is in the "pre-science" stage rather than running to the media, pointing to the sky and yelling "Lo, I have found a new thing, proven by science!" (Small Charles Fort reference there for your amusement.)

Next Time: MACHOs!

Sciency Stuff, Groundrules

2009-01-09T14:59:00.000-06:00

Finally, I have badgered the Thin Man into condensing his Dark Matter notes into a (for him) coherent form and letting me put them on the weblog. (I told him we needed to be more contraversial to get more hits to which he nodded and said "My views on science will do it.")

The reason for Dark Matter as a first topic is simple. It was background research for a sci-fi/horror project that may or may not get off the ground. The project is on hold but I argued that we might as well use the research.

I now yield the podium to our esteemed...well, to the guy that feeds me.

"I ought to feed you to a dog."
"Boss, you're on already."
"Oh Vey!"

Before I get started on Dark Matter, and scientific topics in general, let me issue a few disclaimers right off the top. The first is that I am an ex-scientist. I say 'ex' because I'm now a full time writer but in truth I still am a scientist. I research my work very heavily and I try to stay current in my chosen field (nuclear chemistry). Prior to the collapse of my health, I was an analytic (environmental) analyst and, in time, took over the quality assurance program of the laboratory I worked at. I say all of this, not to brag, but to silence in advance any scurrilous attacks on my credibility or my ability to "understand the complexities of scientific theory and research."

Second, I should like to remind the reader that, as any author already knows, all synopses look silly. Any idea, be it book plot or scientific theory, stripped to its barest essence tends to appear foolish and shallow. That being said, some theories are silly. If it looks like a dumb idea, it probably is. Science is full of dumb ideas; we have to try them all—the silly and the respectable because science as a procedure is determined by observation, not public relations and sound bites.

Third (and this should probably be its own set of posts), science is a tool, not a worldview or religion. Many people, especially in the media but also in science, take it as a be all and end all and try to apply science to solve all problems. That's like trying to do titration with a hammer because one tool is as good as another but there it is. By definition, science the tool is based on reproducibility and predictive falsibility. Scientists from Hawkings to Holton have repeatedly pointed out that science is incompatible with unique phenomena such as beginnings and endings but this point is ignored by those who wish to use science as a replacement for religion and therefore extend science into metaphysics. (Side note: There is nothing wrong with the studies of metaphysics and pseudo-science. Many great scientific theories have originated in these two areas. There is no shame in either and yet, in our science worshiping society, every theorist insists that their work be regarded as "real science" instead of the equally valuable and properly termed metaphysics or pseudo-science. As always, through the history of science, ego is more important than proper protocol.)

Finally, I have a personal and long-standing grudge against cosmology. It is not a universal hatred of the subject nor its students. Indeed, I count Brother Guy Consolmagno as a dear brother in Christ and look forward to seeing him and hopefully doing panel discussions with him in the coming year at ConClave (if the powers that be see fit to have me back again). That being said, my problem with cosmology is three-fold: the overwhelming hubris of its practitioners (generally, not everyone of them) especially their insistence in engaging in metaphysics and pseudo-science while demanding to be treated with an almost religious reverence, the constant use of data mining and selective damning of data to validate prior claims rather than adjusting theory to fit observed facts, and the consistent invocation of circular assumptions.

(By circular assumptions, I refer to situations where, for example, one researcher makes tentative assumptions by necessity as a baseline for their work—such as taking as a given that the speed of light is a constant or that the age of the universe is in the trillions of years. A second researcher then takes the first worker's results, without examining the baseline assumptions behind them, assumes them as his givens, and then proceeded to "prove" the first researcher's necessary assumptions. If the two sets of work were compared and rendered down to their truest form, we would then have a total view something like this: Researcher One: Assuming that the moon is made of Styrofoam, I have investigated the topography of the lunar surface and concluded, based on cratering, that, if it is, then the moon is only a week old. Researcher Two: Since Researcher One, in his previous paper, demonstrated that the moon is only a week old, I have examined the extent to cratering on the lunar surface and must conclude that the moon must be made of Styrofoam.)

Having said all this, we'll continue on with a basic explanations of the latest theories on dark matter but I do encourage you to consider both the qualifications and biases of the source.

Next Time: Actual information!

Guys Read Good Books

2009-01-06T14:56:00.000-06:00

Another Kilimanjaro book review of an excellent trilogy.

Igniting the Reaches, Through the Breach, & Fireships by David Drake

While each of these books is complete on their own, together they form a trilogy. The narrative is tight and the action handled with the proficiency readers have come to expect from the author. These books come with an added treat for the reader: character development.

Drake’s writing is typically plot rather than character driven. His characters develop in relation to their external circumstances, typically warfare, rather than in relation to any internal struggles. Already proficient at portraying the effects of combat on the psyche, the longer structure available to him across this trilogy allows him to also explore the combatant’s reactions to himself and to what he has to become to survive. Each book lets the reader see the central characters from differing perspectives and across the span of several years. For a long time fan of Drake’s work, this added dimension adds a sobering level of depth to the books.

Not to say that these books are heavy with introspection and angst, quiet the opposite, the books move with a surprisingly brisk pace. The scope is epic. Though science fiction, this trilogy was inspired by the life and times of Sir Francis Drake. The themes of pirateering and empire play heavily on the overarching plot. The descriptions have a decidedly nautical feeling and the books favor their attention on the men rather than the machines. In each book, Drake includes a brief explanation of his inspirations for the books and a peak into the ‘story behind the story’. Drake’s final notes, at the end of the third book, when the author discusses how the theme of personal costs ‘grew’ throughout the writing of the trilogy. For some readers, two paragraphs from the author himself, coming on the heels of the work, will be as moving as the books themselves.

Combining technical precision in the narrative with historical perspective and true depth of theme, these three books comprise a rare treat for Drake’s readers.

Related Reading:
David Drake, any and all, esp. Hammers Slammers
The Principall Navigations of the English Nation, the 1958 edition, edited by Richard Hakluyt: Hakluyt’s Voyages (This was Drake’s primary source of inspiration and information. It is an eight volume set, difficult to acquire, and dense reading. It is also an amazing and exhaustive historic record.)
C. S. Forester, any and all, esp. the Horatio Hornblower series
David Weber’s Honor Harrington series

Speaking of the Mad

2009-01-03T14:49:00.000-06:00

To be honest with you, neither the Thin Man nor I had intended to repost things that were already on the main website but we've been persuaded otherwise. We both agreed, if we were going to repost anything, then first and foremost should be the essay that is the very reason this weblog is entitled as it is. Some of you have seen this before and I hope you'll forgive the redundancy but, in the interest of getting it in front of the most eyes as possible:

On Autism and Society

One begins a circle drawing anywhere, especially if one is Asbergian. I must approach this subject by stalking it, circuitously tacking toward a central point that is not, in fact, a point but rather a hedge of possible relations. I will most likely say as many things that are wrong as I do things that are correct because, without permission to fail, no progress can be made. I speak from a broad foundation of knowledge, personal experience, and research. In order to provide examples, I have chosen to reference a New York Times Magazine article by Emily Bazelon ("What Are Autistic Girls Made of?" NYTM 08/05/2007). It is not the only source for the information I discuss, but it is representative of the current state of research and it is easily accessible.

Much of what I present is drawn from anecdotal evidence. There is a widespread fallacy in scientific circles that "anecdotal evidence is no evidence at all"; that the experiences and observations of one individual are not sufficient data to draw conclusions from. Setting aside that these specific anecdotes in question are representative observations, the root premise — that "anecdotal evidence is no evidence at all" — is a flawed one and its frequent invocation is a detriment to science and the increase of knowledge. At its root, all evidence is anecdotal. Even if I acquire empirical results from a bank of analytical machinery, my record of these results, my calculations, and my eventual conclusions are, in point of fact, anecdotal. All things are filtered through a singular observer. Finally, all evidence is anecdotal.

For my own part, I was diagnosed late in life with a host of mental "deficiencies", all of which may be lumped into a single category of "the boy ain't like us." I am non-neurotypical — crazy if you will. That's really all any mental "disorder" is: non-neurotypical, not like the rest of us. Further labeling is pejorative and facile. As I said, I was diagnosed late in life; every person who had known me previously responded, "So, you're the same as you've always been, but now it's official." If I were a child today, I would be caught, tranquilized, and relocated a safe distance from the "good" people. Instead, I grew up among people, not unlike myself, who accommodated my idiosyncrasies (this was a time when eccentricity was quaint rather than threatening). In the meantime, I learned to mimic the average human and do a credible impression for short periods of time.

I would add to this one further personal note. Once I could no longer maintain the mask and was forced, by the cost to my personal health, to retire from the field, I found within the government — within the institutions so publicly dedicated to "serving" the differently-abled and so vocally the defendants of the downtrodden — the highest levels of discrimination and harassment I have ever faced. At times, the situation came to resemble Camus' The Stranger as I was punished by the system for not properly cringing and bowing, for not giving up and dying quietly. There are decent people within the system, but the overarching bureaucracy itself is a condescending evil.

As a society, we still relegate our insane to asylums. Only now, the walls are invisible and the padding is around those who must deal with us, to protect them from us, an insidious imprisonment of arbitrary regulations, a subtle prejudice cloaked in platitudes of compassion. Because they are afraid of us.

To clarify terms, autism is now defined as social and communication impairments and restricted interests. Allow me to present this definition as it is seen from the other side of the mirror: doesn't tolerate inanity or stupidity well, speaks directly, and doesn't give a damn what was on SNL last night because there are more important things.

Autism now includes Asberger's syndrome, considering it high-functioning autism. As the study of mental abnormality expands, it is increasingly common for one disorder to "swallow" another in this manner. It is my own studied opinion (and I am not alone in this), that most mental abnormalities are simply variations on a theme. There is a continuum of behaviors and functionalities all sliding and blurring into each other and only severity separates one "disorder" from another. Further, the mental state of every human being exists on this continuum and that the normal and sane have the same potentials and traits as the abnormal, simply less pronounced. If you need further proof, I ask you to consider the societal virtue called logical thought. It is defined as the ability to consider a situation or problem objectively rather than subjectively, to separate one's personal interests from the situation. Psychology also has a term that matches this definition: dissociative thinking, the first symptom of schizoid behavior.

In the specific case of autism, researchers are quick to point out that autistics, especially female patients, suffer from tremendous levels of anxiety and depression. It is currently their belief that the anxiety and depression arise from the situations created by the necessary lifestyles of the autistic. Personally, I think they overcomplicate the matter. Autism and bipolar disorder are both stops on the mental continuum; to attempt to divide them into two separate disorders based on cause and effect is pure sophistry. More troubling, it is counterproductive.

Let the hunt begin. Observe the trail signs.

""All I require is a purple marker," the boy said over and over again, refusing to write with the black marker he had been given."

A small track indicating a huge beast. If you, as a researcher, are preparing to perform a study involving autistic patients, is it unreasonable to expect this kind of simple resistance? Of course not. This kind of action is so common, a researcher should be surprised if it doesn't occur in a sample population. Yet, to me, there is an even brighter warning flag waving, an obvious question that strikes to the core of the matter. What is so important about the color of marker the patient uses that the doctors must bring the entire proceeding to a halt until this single individual is forced to conform to their arbitrary decision? Why not give him a purple marker? Why must the doctors establish such trivial dominance, like dogs squabbling for pack supremacy? For an autistic patient, this small measure of situational control is paramount to his comfort and his ability to continue to function in the environment; he needs to maintain some level of control and has chosen to express it in what is, ultimately, a very reasonable request. He is neither disruptive not demonstrative, merely resistant. This kind of irrational power struggle on the part of the normals is common, bordering on systemic, in the handling of non-neurotypicals. Why? Is there an unacknowledged psychosis common to doctors, a kind of deity-complex megalomania, or is it something more widespread?

"...they [girls] often fare better than boys at an early age because they tend to be less disruptive."

The question begs itself: do the autistic girls fare better or do the normals around them fare better because the autistic does not intrude on them? Yet, that question is never asked, never investigated. It is a problem that the autistic faces throughout society. Docility is confused with success. Culturally, we are conditioned to the thoughtless rigors of classroom passivity to prepare us for the drone mechanics of the industrial world. Indeed, a quick perusal of the writings of Horace Mann, founder of the modern educational system, makes it clear that the entire purpose of the system is not, in fact, to educate the student but to prepare the student to accept their place within the social strata and industrial mechanism without thought or question. The autistic, by their very nature challenges — must challenge — this basic presumption. By definition, they are not satisfied with social minutia or polite small talk. They are driven to focus on those matters that interest them. In generations past, these traits were used to define geniuses and future leaders, not mental disorders. It is reasonable to speculate that, perhaps, the climbing numbers of autistic diagnoses is due, not to an actual increase in mental abnormalities, but to a change to the cultural fabric. The societal bar has been lowered and, when the autistic refuses to lower themselves, they are marginalized.

"A psychology professor and director of the Autism Research Centre at Cambridge University, Baron-Cohen has characterized autism as a condition of the 'extreme male brain.' His research shows that in the general population men are more likely than women to score low on a test of empathy and high on a test of recognizing rules and patterns, or 'systemizing.' High systemizing together with low empathy correlates with social and communications deficits and, at the extreme end of the scale, with autism...Baron-Cohen says that he believes that autistic girls are strong systemizers. That quality may manifest itself in letters rather than numbers."

Baron-Cohen may be the leading autism researcher of our generation. In this, I find great hope for the future. Although it may not be politically correct to call autism "extreme male brain", I believe he is correct. It is frequently noted that autistic males have an obsession with numbers, music, and similar "arcane" knowledge. It has also been noted that Asbergian females are some of the leading readers and writers of fantasy and fan fiction.

I would add to this body of evidence my own experiences with other authors and readers, especially women. Accepting the terminology of masculine for traits such as patterning and feminine for traits like empathy, Baron-Cohen's observations are, in hindsight, almost intuitively obvious. I fear that his work will be obscured by rhetoric because of phantom perceptions of sexism; but I wonder how many women among my own fellow writers and readers recognized themselves in his definition. Given the historic predisposition of authors to mental illness (or vice versa), I believe this aspect of his research lends itself not only to a better understanding of autism but also a greater understanding of literature and especially the current state of fantasy literature and children's literacy. In this culture of specialization however, I fear this will never be explored, unless by a fellow non-neurotypical.

I would like to take a moment to address the contention that autistics have communication difficulties. This is a sweeping generalization based on definitions created by normals. Most autistics (depending on severity) do communicate. What they do not do is communicate trivially. A request for permission to an autistic that is not met with dissent is permission; they see no need for wasteful pleasantries. A statement that does not require a direct response will not receive one. That does not mean the autistic did not hear or care, they just have no need to respond. Of course, the "difficulties socializing" are co-morbid with this minimalistic communication.

Let me say that I have, of necessity, made sweeping generalizations regarding the condition of autism. I understand and acknowledge that each case is different, that the level of functional severity alters the situation significantly. Primarily, my focus has been on high-functioning autism or Asberger's Syndrome. I humbly admit that I am not an expert on this situation, merely a participant, and apologize in advance if I have offended anyone or seemed insensitive to any specific circumstance.

I believe I speak for many non-neurotypicals when I say that I do not want "cured". I am not a ham or a side of bacon. There is nothing wrong with me. There is only wrongness as it relates to our interaction with mainstream round-peg culture. Rather, I wish to be understood and accepted as I am. If this is not possible, which I suspect it is not, I wish the society of normals to permit the necessary accommodations for my people to live among you. We cannot go to your schools (I suspect that you should not go to them either) and we cannot conform to your nine-to-five cages. This does not make us less, only different.

All I require is a purple marker.

Originally posted:

Calamity's Child

2008-12-31T11:31:00.001-06:00

And here's the interview for Calamity's Child.

An Interview with the Author of Calamity's Child

Q: How'd it all get started?
A: Originally, there was no Calamity's Child; there was only a short story. In fact, before there was a short story, there were two authors at a convention...
I had known John Scalzi for a few years previously. Old Man's War had only recently come out and he was gearing up to edit a special edition of Subterranean. It was to be a theme edition and he chose sci-fi clichés. All the old, ugly, beaten-to-death ideas that filled every submission guideline under the heading of "Do not send us this", but done right. He asked if I'd send something in and, after a bit of noodling, I came up with Subject Real. Its cliché was one of my own pet peeves—the holodeck episode. (If a machine messed up half as often for no more benefit than various incarnations of VR in sci-fi, then we'd lynch the inventor and outlaw the premise. My challenge was to make the risks of the technology worthwhile; I vent a bit of my own opinion when Ivan insists that anyone trapped in VR deserves to stay there.)
In the end, the story didn't fit the issue. John tracked me down the next time we were in the same building and made sure I knew it was a matter of making the issue consistent in tone (he opted for more hard sci-fi than space opera); he was quite happy with the story. (John's a class act that way and he doesn't blow smoke. If he'd disliked it, he'd have told me that too. I'd expect no less and I respect him for it.) To digress a bit, it is ironic that,in the Foreword to the book, the editor compares Calamity's Child to Scalzi's work (as well as Mike Resnick's).
I shopped the story a bit but, as most RGR (Ray Gun Revival) readers know, space opera is not a sellers market (though, with the benefit of hindsight, I probably could have sold it to Jim Baen’s Universe). To shorten a long story a bit, a reader of mine pointed me at RGR and asked if I'd send something over. I sent Subject Real and overall, I think everyone was happy.
Several months passed and I didn't give the matter much thought, but I kept getting mail asking where the rest of the story was—the object real part. Roughly parallel to this, timewise, I pitched a serial to RGR (“FT7" for those who've read the slush). That story didn't go, but out of the ensuing give and take emerged Calamity's Child.

Q: After Speakers and Kings, why space opera?
A: Timing mostly. I had actually started work on two other books—one epic fantasy, the other military sci-fi, also on an epic scope—when RGR (and Double-Edged Publishing) picked up the pitch for Calamity's Child. In addition, after S&K, I felt that I needed to do more work on character development and character-driven stories.

Q: You're happy with the characters in Calamity's Child?
A: I am. One of my biggest worries was Kylee herself. I was really worried over whether I could present a teenage girl accurately—that split between little girl and grown woman at the same time. Plus, she has a good deal of other problems mixed in as well. I worried that, in presenting her baggage in addition to the 'normal' behaviors of that age, she might come across as forced. As it is, I've had a couple of early readers tell me that I hit it spot on.

Q: Why write space opera at all? It's not exactly a hot commodity with publishers these days.
A: More's the pity, assuming it's true and I'm not so certain it is. I am sure that the reading public has an appetite for it.
To understand space opera, you have to understand the history of the entire genre. First, space opera is part of a larger block of literature: the literature of the frontier. It includes space opera, westerns, H. Rider Haggard, Joseph Conrad, Rudyard Kipling, and a host of others. With the recent success of shows like Firefly, a lot of people have the misconception that space opera is westerns in space—Bat Durstans—but it's a lot more that that. It's the literature of man on the edge, away from 'civilization' and truly free. To paraphrase Kipling, it's where a man must be who he is and do what he must.
The one great defining theme of all these works is loyalty, with honor and duty vying for second. I believe that, while these themes may go out of vogue with publishers, they will always have a place with readers.
As for space opera specifically, it all began with the pulps. Most readers and almost every writer fondly remembers a childhood diet of Doc Savage, Tarzan, John Carter, the Lensmen, and Tom Swift or their equivalents. You have to ask yourself why. The pulps were the gateway to science fiction, the entry-level books. They were clean and simple. You could enjoy them without an extensive knowledge of the genre or literary theory and the science involved didn't stand in the way of seeing the story. Many were poorly written, but there was always an earnest energy to the writing and a feeling of mutual enjoyment between the author and the reader. The honest enthusiasm, straightforward presentation, and sheer fun of the books hooked more people on reading, and on reading science fiction specifically, than all the fancier, 'better' books around at the same time. More importantly, without these books—these much-maligned pulps—the 'better' books would never have been read at all, because it's the pulps that suck you in. Come for the gunfight, stay for the show.
Somewhere along the way, we lost a lot of that. Science fiction talked about itself and to itself more and more often. As it did so, the reader base dwindled. That's not an accident. You have to start reading somewhere; it's unrealistic to assume that the average reader is going to jump straight into the hard core dystopias of John Brunner or Gibson's cyberpunk. And heaven forefend that a reader's first exposure to science fiction is the Left Hand of Darkness, because then they're gone for good.
To come full circle, look at the excitement for Firefly, Star Wars, and Scalzi's Old Man's War. They're the pulps come back again with a new coat of chrome; the stories of war and the frontier, good versus evil, the stories of and for the Everyman.
Without space opera, we give up our childhood. To dismiss space opera and pulp as 'junk' is to disdain the very heart and love of the science fiction genre itself.
Q: The obvious question then is: what did you do with Calamity's Child to stay true to that history and still give a good story for modern readers?
A: Good storytelling is timeless; worrying about the 'modern reader' as opposed to any other reader is largely a waste of time better spent writing. For Calamity, I set certain guidelines for myself early on. The story should be clean enough for young adult readers but deep enough for the hard-core sci-fi fan. I wanted to keep the main themes of loyalty, duty, honor, sacrifice, and the frontier ethos intact without turning the characters, even the antagonists, into mere caricatures. Ivan, for example, is initially presented as a grizzled, cynical bounty hunter; a stereotype that the reader starts to see through by the second chapter. I also wanted the story to be approachable to anyone, not just science fiction readers. That meant I had to back off the fancy technical descriptions, keep the vocabulary simple, and really focus in on the story itself and the characters. In some ways, it's harder to write that way because all your bells and whistles are put away and you're back to the basics of the craft.
That's not to say the book is simple; it's not. There's depth, but it's the kind of depth that springs from the characters themselves, not the fancy technology or sweeping worlds. Good versus evil is primal and basic, but not simplistic.
I also tried to make certain that my aliens, the few that there are, were truly alien, not just humans in funny hats; and that my humans, like the Kwakiutl, were real and diverse as well. That meant a lot background work on biology and cultures that never made it into the novel. Especially in the case of Red Dog; if you've got a few hours to kill, ask me to explain the nidus and the vespiary.

Q: Last question. Overall, which is a better book, Speakers and Kings or Calamity's Child?
A: Apples to oranges. S&K is about big, sweeping gestures: language, communi-cation, the coming of age of an entire race and what it means to be unique. Calamity is about the smaller scope. It's more intimate, more driven by characters than plot. If I were to guess, I'd say with S&K either you love it and it really sticks with you or you don't get it at all. Calamity offers entertainment over a wide scope but might not strike as deep. S&K was serious and consciously thematic. Calamity is just a fun ride.

Speakers and Kings

2008-12-28T11:27:00.000-06:00

I thought I'd round out the year by posting the two interviews the Thin Man has done for Kilimanjaro magazine about his novels, just in case you were new to the site and wanted to know a little more about them. First, the S&K interview.

An Interview With the Author of Speakers and Kings, M. Keaton
Q: To start with, what is Speakers and Kings about?
A: The short answer is: wartime epic fantasy in a medieval, quasi-Arabic context. The long answer is, well, longer. The “what if” premise is a race of spirit beings (called the Eerith) that are telepathic, which means they have no language, and are ex-slaves with no history; they joined the world ‘in progress’ and were immediately enslaved. With no history and no language, what kind of people are they? What do they do? That’s where it all starts. How important is the past to the present? How important is history and a physical body to language and how important is language to individuality?

Q: So, pretty heavy philosophy?
A: No, yes, a little. Those are the underlying themes that drive the actions and the story is about the actions. The book really covers the decade or so of jyhad with these spirits being caught in the middle of the war. There’s plenty of action. Let me try it again: the book is the story of a war and the focus is the people caught in the middle of this war. The deeper themes come into play with the actions of the Eerith on both sides. The story is on two levels. There are some parts that can get deep if the reader wants to really dwell on them but if the reader doesn’t want to, they don’t have to, the action moves things along on its own.

Q: You dedicated the book to the men and women of the armed forces. Why?
A: First off, the fact that they are out there defending my country is always sufficient reason to dedicate something to them. In this case, there was a little more to it.
A lot of my ‘beta-readers’, the folks I run my rough drafts past, are in the military and they were a lot of help to begin with since this book is about a war. But, while I wrote it, there was the attack on the USS Cole and the embassy bombings and then 9-11. I was about halfway through the final version when the US was attacked and I just froze. It just didn’t seem right to be writing about a made up war when we were in the middle of the real one.
Now the humbling thing occurs. These guys out there, going off to fight and die, start e-mailing me to see if I’m all right. That’s the kind of men and women we have in this country’s military, that kind of selflessness. They tell me, to paraphrase, “Write the book. We need it. Distract us and tell us a story of honor and nobility, good versus evil.” The book became a lot deeper, a lot more personal, and a lot more important then because it really became for them. I went to press right before we rolled into Iraq.
As a nation, really as a culture, we’ve lost the good wholesome stories. Everything is about ‘sensitive cultural issues’ and angst and navel gazing and shades of gray. Nobody’s telling the good tales of men being men and fighting the good fight. I’ve always said that my writing was to balance that kind of thing, that I’d tell the good pulp adventure and let other people worry about writing the great novels. I really hope that with SK I’ve done that, for them.

Q: Did you do anything different in this book than you would have otherwise because of that?
A: Yes, but no one seems to have noticed it. I broke a lot of the so-called rules of writing to cater to the real-world needs of my readers. I’ve jokingly called myself the modern master of the serial because of the way I structured the book. Every chapter is like an episode in the old movie reel serials. Each chapter begins and ends and the reader can put the book down at the end of each chapter. Like the old serials, there are cliff-hangers and the like but I break the rule that says never give the reader a good stopping point. Also I tried to keep each chapter under fourteen thousand words so that it could be read in about an hour and I don’t slow down or repeat myself or explain everything to death. The reason is, these guy have a few hours a day of free time and then hours of duty at station, much of which is watching and waiting. I tried to give them a book that they could read one chapter at a time, in the time window that they had, with enough meat on the bones that they could think and talk about it while they were on duty if it was a boring day—and I pray that every day on duty is a boring day.
The one thing that I couldn’t change that I wish I could is the price. I truly wish that the economics were such that I could give the book to our soldiers for free. That’s part of why I’m such a proponent of the ASEs. We pay fat toad Senators a small fortune to pass laws stealing our freedoms while we give the poor guys risking their lives to protect our freedoms a shiny nickel and a pat on the head. Free books are the least we should do.

Q: What about non-military people, is the book accessible to them?
A: Oh yes. It’s a solid book no matter where you come at it from. In fact, I’ve gotten a lot of feedback from teenagers and women who really like it. That surprised me because I figured that I was writing a very masculine book but I also have strong women as main characters too. I think the, well, moral clarity of the characters and the fact that they struggle with themselves without selling out, angst without lapsing into self-pity; I think that’s really refreshing to a lot of people, especially young readers.

Q: A required interview question, why buy your book?
A: I need to buy groceries. Seriously though, it’s a good book, maybe a great one. That’s not me talking, I can’t judge my own work. That’s what the readers are telling me. They don’t just like it; they’re blown away. I have a weird kind of second-hand confidence. Enough people have told me it’s good that I have to admit that it is.

Q: Last question. What is Dog?
A: (laughs) Nope. No way. I’m not telling.

Calamity's Child Music (Part 3 of 3)

2008-12-26T11:22:00.000-06:00

Character specific music:
Ivan Steponovich
Freedom's Child by Billy Joe Shaver
Stone of Destiny by Steve McDonald
Handful of Rain by Savatage (esp. Handful of Rain and Chance)
The Highwayman by Danny Doyle
Snowblind Friend by Hoyt Axton
Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs by Marty Robbins

Red Dog
Lost in the Beauty You Slay by Sacrilege
The Best of Rob Zombie by Rob Zombie
Projekt Gothic by various artists (esp. When You're Evil by Voltaire)
Euthanasia by Megadeath
Bombtrack by Rage Against the Machine (esp. the one with all the bad words in it--I won't do what you tell me!)

Kylee Steponovich
Summer Storm by Wild Mercy
Lullabies (Celtic Twilight 3) by various artists
The Best of Rob Zombie by Rob Zombie (most esp. More Human Than Human)
Ugly As It Gets by Ugly Kid Joe (esp. Cat's in the Cradle)

Quicksilver Rose
Fallen and The Open Door by Evanescence
Nina Simone, The Definitive Collection by Nina Simone
Another Town... by The Whole Shabang
The Druid and the Dreamer by Draiocht

Ivan and Rose together
River of Dreams by Billy Joel (esp. Blond Over Blue)
Titania, The Fairy Queen by Mike Rowland

Rainmaker and Solomon (Cajuns in Space!)
Bayou Deluxe by Michael Doucet and Beausoleil
Mardi Gras Mambo by Cubanismo
Bobby Bare Super Hits by Bobby Bare

Pharaoh et. al. on Selous
Zambian Acapella by Zambian Acapella
Nina Simone, The Definitive Collection by Nina Simone
Lady First by Bob Thompson
On the Beach by Edgar Wallace Jr.
Fiddler On the Roof Soundtrack from the MGM movie

Calamity's Child Music (Part 2 of 3)

2008-12-22T11:18:00.002-06:00

Chapter specific music:
1-Subject Real
No music, just the background crash of a SF/F convention and a long bus ride

2-Potlatch, 3-Suicide Straight, and 4-Domino
Dead Winter Dead by Savatage
Operation Mindcrime by Queensryche
Bond by Bond
Americana by The Offspring

5-Skip a Rope
Skip a Rope by Jimmy Dean
Kansas Super Hits by Kansas
A Rose for Iconoclasts by Steven Brust

6-Dante's Fourth by Gaslight
Eine kleine Nachtmusik, Idomeneo, The Abduction from the Seraglio, Don Giovanni by Mozart
The Four Seasons by Vivaldi
Canon (D major), Suite Number 6 (B flat major) by Pachelbel
Suite (G major), Concerto (D major), Symphony (G major), Symphony (A major) by Fasch
River of Dreams by Billy Joel

7-Rodeo Bull Ballet, 8-King in the Corner, and 9-Ransom in the Fall of the Mountain King
Snowblind Friend by Hoyt Axton (especially Water for My Horses, Funeral of The King, and Seven Come)
Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs by Marty Robbins

10-Ave Maria
River of Dreams by Billy Joel
Stigmata Movie Soundtrack by various artists (esp. Mary Mary)
Timeless Crime by Labyrinth (esp. Save Me)
Unleashed, The Half Tail by Wolfstone
Man of La Mancha, Original Cast Recording

11-Object Real
Handful of Rain by Savatage (esp. Taunting Cobras)
For the Sake of Revenge by Sonata Arctica
Timeless Crime by Labyrinth

Calamity's Child Music (Part 1 of 3)

2008-12-19T11:15:00.001-06:00

Presenting the Music behind the writing of Calamity's Child! Yes, the list of music the Thin Man found essential to focusing his mind during the writing of the novel. It's a long list so I'll spread it over several days. Please note, the music listed is not an indication of good taste, the author's specific listening preferences, or an endorsement of some of the music. Also remember that the various albums were freely intermixed (for example, for every chapter with Rose in it, there was an Evanescence album in the rotation, even during the writing of the fight scenes). It is simply what put him in the right frame of mind. I hope you find it an interesting (and probably terrifying) look inside the symbiosis of music and writers.

General background music:

The Book of Secrets, The Visit, The Mask and Mirror by Loreena McKennitt
Another Way to Travel by Cats Laughing
Once Upon a Time... The Essential Ennio Morricone Collection by Ennio Morricone (esp. The Mission Suite)
Poets and Madmen by Savatage
Highlander, The Original Scores by Michael Kamen, Stewart Copeland, and J. Peter Robinson
Music Inspired by J. R. R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings by Andy Street
Beethoven's Last Night by Trans-Siberian Orchestra
Eroica Trio by Eroica Trio
The Planets Suite, St. Paul's Suite by Holst

Fight scenes:
The Yngwie Malmsteen Collection by Yngwie Malmsteen
Blade, Movie Soundtrack by Mark Isham
Stigmata Movie Soundtrack by various artists
A Tribute to the Four Horsemen by various artist (Nuclear Blast records)
Brave New World by Iron Maiden
The Planets Suite (Mars thru Saturn) by Holst

He's a grumpy old man

2008-12-16T11:06:00.000-06:00

At great personal risk, I have bearded the Thin Man in his den and once again demanded a project status update. His recap of November was short and to the point: "I didn't get a damn thing done." Technically, that's not true. I know for a fact that he wrote two short stories but it has become his official policy not to count short stories as word count unless they're longer than 10,000 words. The reasoning is mercenarily simple. A good short is almost as much work as several chapters of a novel but the pay is literally in pennies. (The so-called pro rate is 5 cents a word. For a well polished 5,000 word short story it takes close to a week of work and pays, at best, 250 bucks. In the same amount of time, he could generate about 10,000 words on a novel.) I should point out, he refused to stop writing short stories (this seems to be some kind of mental disorder for short story writers--they can't stop) but he doesn't count them as "billable word count".

I understand his frustration. Since the Thin Man tries to support National Novel Writing Month, November is usually a productive time. Last year, just over 45,000 words on Calamity's Child; the year before, the entire draft of Red Scythian. On the other hand, this November brought family illness, farm work, recovering from a book release, and a change in medication. I didn't bother to bring this up because I already know the answer: "Results, not excuses." So instead, I asked, "What did you read last month?"

"Blood and martyrs, Cat, I don't know! The wife, she keeps a journal of what she reads. Me, I just pick up the next closest book."

I have, however, reconstructed a partial list that I present below. It's not a complete list because, like most transients, the Thin Man pretty much lives out of cardboard boxes so as soon as a book is finished, it goes into storage and a new box comes out, but here's what I know for sure:

What is Your Dangerous Idea? Edited by John Brockman
Strange Matters by Tom Siegfried
Necroscope, NS: Defilers, and NS: Avengers by Brian Lumley
Amusing Ourselves to Death by Neil Postman
That Yellow Bastard and Hell and Back by Frank Miller
Ultraviolet by Yvonne Vavarro/Kurt Wimmer
The End of Time by Julian Barbour
Shamrock and Spear Edited and Translated by F. M. Pillkington
The Strange and Uncanny by John Macklin
Red as Blood by Tanith Lee

And now we know why he's in such a bad mood. Not many books, nowhere near enough fiction and no military sci-fi at all. Who wouldn't be a grump?

Goofin' Around

2008-12-13T15:13:00.000-06:00

The Thin Man is gearing up to cause all manner of turmoil with his dark matter research and his new theory of space-time. (I've sussed out this much: Einstein was wrong and there are two dimensions of space. This may be his craziest theory yet.) Since I'm sure trouble is a'coming, for now I'm sticking with a light theme. The following is something actually prepared by SHE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED and is intended as a resource for all those who find themselves trapper with an author (based on her own personal experiences).

How do you know if your writer is an insane maniac likely to go off like a grenade at any moment? There are some simple warning signs. (Note: these warning signs taken from actual events, do not replicate at home without trained supervision.)

--72 hours (or more) without sleep
--The ability to survive on a steady diet of only one specific item for long periods of time. For example: rice every meal for a month. (Note: this is often a difficult symptom to identify, see below).
--The ability to survive on a diet of things not traditionally considered as 'food' such as candy, tree leaves, beef jerky, Taco Bell, rubbing alcohol and extreme amounts of soda or alcohol. Author may lapse into a completely liquid diet.
--No longer following what is traditionally considered a meal structure, much less a meal schedule. This period is marked by a phenomena known as 'spiking'. The author will ignore nourishment (often violently if it is forced upon him) until tremors of the hands and face prevent him from pursuing his current obsession. (Note: current obsession may or may not actually be a manuscript, depending on the progress of the condition. In its early stages, the obsession often manifests first in game playing, researching random topics, or learning new curse words in foreign languages before finally reaching the manuscript phase proper.) When the tremor condition occurs, the victim is then suddenly seized with a ravenous and indiscriminate hunger and will eat, sometimes quite literally, anything that does not outrun him until the hunger is sated. This may include the consumption of insects, ancient condiments from the refrigerator, dog food (especially those bacon treats), and scrap pieces of paper laying about. Spiking is usually followed by several other physical symptoms, see below.
--Ritual social ablutions are completely abandoned until action is forced, i.e. the Cheetos orange has built up on both fingers and keyboard until it is no longer possible to type. (Note: in extreme cases, the author has been know to replace the keyboard rather than stop writing.)
--The voiding of physical wastes is halted completely until some other, external event occurs (such as spiking) at which point, well, there had better be a clear path to the restroom.
--The need for physical rest seems to be suspended (see 72 hour rule above). This is actually a temporary illusion and may be followed by complete collapse (especially during the 'sugar crash' which follows spiking) or may result in short periods of unconsciousness. These short term collapses may be marked by a sudden occurrence of a series of the same letter within the manuscript for up to several pages like so: sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
--In addition to the above, there exist a whole host of lesser symptoms that vary considerably from victim to victim such as extreme swearing, breaking down a wall in the household with an eight pound sledgehammer in the interest of 'research', carrying family pets around by their tails, losing every damn thing ever owned just when it's needed, a total disintegration of spelling and grammatical abilities, using the writer's own skin and available wall surfaces as writing materials, an irrational fear of Emma Bull, and the simultaneous description of own work as "unadulterated crap" while insisting "but I'm a damn sight better than so-and-so and his puke on the page."
--The most common and universal symptom of this disorder is extreme irritability. For the duration of the fugue state, the universe consists of the writer and his obsession. Anything that interferes with pursuit of the obsession must be destroyed in the simplest, fastest manner available irrespective of its previous, or subsequent, value. Writers are, therefore, to be avoided at all cost.

Hopefully, this short guide will prevent long term injury while a cure for this malady is sought. Research is underway and donations are accepted (just send them to me). Currently, the best available treatment is a six-book contract with a fat advance and the liberal application of hooch.

Christmas Contest Results

2008-12-12T13:39:00.007-06:00

The Calamity's Child Christmas contest is over and the gift packs have gone out in the mail (one domestic, one to Iraq). I'll not announce to whom they are going since the winners may very well value their privacy. If, once they get them, they want to speak up in the comments, that's fine too.

And now, with the contest over, I'll start to put up the Thin Man's list of music for the novel over the next few weeks. He thinks it is a logical progression of music; SHE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED thinks it looks like a superball attacked a jukebox. You decide.

Just funny

2008-12-10T15:05:00.000-06:00

For your holiday entertainment, I'd like to pass along a conversation between the Thin Man and a car rental company that I overhead a few months back. The event occurred before I started blogging for him and it still greatly amuses the cat.

"Can I help you?"
"Yes. I'm coming to town for a convention and I need to rent a car."
"Excellent, which credit card do you use?"
"I don't use a credit card; I'll be paying cash."
"I'm afraid we can't do that sir."
"Do what?"
"Accept cash. We have no way of knowing that you're not a criminal."
"Ma'am, if I was a criminal, I'd have a credit card. I'm confused--what part of 'all debts public and private' was Mister Washington lying about?"
"I'm sorry sir but we only take credit cards. It's company policy."
"I understand that. I also understand that under Federal law, you have to take cash."
"Just a moment and I'll get my manager...
...What seems to be the problem here?"
"I'm trying to rent a car and you're company is refusing my money."

"Okay, let me see if I get this straight: I can pay for the car with cash and I can leave a cash deposit for the security fee, right?"
"That's correct, sir."
"Then why do I need a credit card if I can pay in cash?"
"Company policy will not allow me to rent out a car without a major credit card on file."
"On file for what?! This is some kind of discrimination isn't it? You're just yanking me around because I'm southern."
"I assure you sir--"
"What's your name? My lawyer's going to need it. The law is very clear: you cannot refuse a man service because of his race or creed and you must accept legal tender FOR ALL DEBTS PUBLIC AND PRIVATE!"
"Let me transfer you to my area manager."

"I'm sorry for the confusion, sir. My people should have explained the matter to you more clearly."
"That's all right. So I can pay with cash and leave the deposit in cash--that's payment. The major credit card is for identification purposes."
"Yessir. The card is ID along with your driver's license."
"Well I don't have a credit card. Surely you're not telling me that just because I'm a luddite you can't rent me a car."
"Oh, no sir, we work very hard to accommidate all religious beliefs. We'll just use another method of verifying your identity."
"You mean in addition to the three forms I already have to provide."
"That's correct."
"So what else do you need?"
"A current utility bill and a pay stub. The utility bill will need to be current showing a zero balance."
"You've got to be kidding."
"No sir, what would be the problem?"
"If my balance is zero, my utility company doesn't issue a bill. It's kind of implicit in the word BILL."
"Well, I'm sure we can work something out on that, just bring in your latest set of paperwork from them and the pay stub."
"About the pay stub, what if I'm self-employed?"
"Oh that's no problem, just bring in your last pay check."
"I don't cut checks to myself."
"What do you do for a living, sir?"
"I'm a writer."
"But surely you get paid."
"And don't call me Shirley but seriously, other than checks made out to my name, the only formal payments I recieve are royalty statements."
"Bring in a recent one of those."
"How recent?"
"One or two weeks should be fine."
"I only get statements quarterly."
"What?"
"Four times a year."
"Hmmmm. Well that certianly is irregular. How much was your latest one for?"
"Hold on, I'll check...twenty-one dollars and fifty cents."
"We can't rent you a car."
"Why not?"
"You don't make enough."
"I'm paying cash!!! You said all this other stuff was for identification purposes."
"That's correct."
"Then rent me a car."
"I'm afraid I can't do that without a major credit card."

"Cat, I don't think I'm renting a car."

Fun with wikipedia

2008-12-07T14:27:00.007-06:00

Edit: Stupid html interwhingee code eats the blasted links! All links now posted purely as text. Open a new window and paste them in. Sorry for the extra hassle.

The Thin Man is finally listed on wikipedia but it's a very short entry with a few errors and a derth of information. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M._Keaton Now, I would encourage you to shoot over and update it but the problem is that he's very stingy with information, especially the personal stuff. So, it becomes a mystery--who is the Thin Man, where has he been, what has he done, is he even human? Well, to help, I've tried to complile a list of a few links that might help you find out more (and source the article as well). Not every page has a direct reference to the Thin Man but they all point at some aspect of his past and this just scratches the surface. Have fun looking:

http://www.baxter.com/
http://www.scifan.com/writers/kk/KeatonM.asp
http://www.blackmoore-global.com/
http://www.booksforsoldiers.com/
http://www.professional-events.com/
http://www.getfave.com/locations/15348481-midwest-analytical-services-inc
http://www.metaresearch.org/cosmology/
http://www.archive.org/search.php?query=subject%3A%22M.%20Keaton%22
http://www.michiganfandom.org/
http://www.qualight.com/
http://raygunrevival.com/
http://abyssandapex.com/
http://www.phoenyx.net/
http://www.aboutsf.com/speakers/speakerinfo.php?speakerID=232