lt260

04:47 pm:
Wood type: apple
Length: 11½ inches
Core: Kelpie Hair

Get your own wand!
http://www.diagonalley.5u.com/ollivanders/index.html

02:54 am: Privilege
According to the Free Dictionary (http://www.thefreedictionary.com), the first definition is:

1. a. A special advantage, immunity, permission, right, or benefit granted to or enjoyed by an individual, class, or caste.
b. Such an advantage, immunity, or right held as a prerogative of status or rank, and exercised to the exclusion or detriment of others.

It's kind of funny, but I recall living a fairly privileged life as a kid. Yeah, I had to share a room with my brother but I always had things to eat, new clothes, a place to sleep, books to read, safe places to play, a huge backyard, free run of the neighborhood and beyond, medical coverage (although I didn't think about it at the time), and nearby schools (I never rode a bus K-12). I remember having plenty of friends, belonging to organizations, and doing chores to earn an allowance. We were never rich but we definitely were not poor. Cruises? I'll take my family's camping trips any day of the week.

How is all that a special advantage? It is when the main focus of your life is finding enough food to keep from starving. Or clothing and shelter so hypothermia is not a problem. Consider what a privilege an education would be if certain laws were juggled to allow public funding for private schools while severely decreasing funding for public schools. Laws that would allow private schools to receive a larger and larger slice of tax funding for education. It would be a neocon’s wet dream: only those that can afford it will be able to send their children to private school and those that can most afford it could have their tax liability decreased.

I’m not so sure that having possessions can be viewed as a privilege. I did not grow up with a phone in my room, did not own a car until I bought one at age 19 (and living on my own), did not have a TV in my bedroom, or a whole lot of other things. However, I was not at a disadvantage, for the most part, because of it. I’ll give a small nod to privilege in that not having a car in high school put me at a slight hardship as far as social equality is concerned. Looking back at it some forty years later, I can also see where I gained advantages having to bum rides or use the bus. It made me a lot more self-reliant for one thing. Besides which, I got into enough trouble in those days. Possessing wheels would just have made it a lot easier and more frequent.

The other part that bothers me in this argument is how all of that equates to a privilege? To wit: how did my having it exclude someone else? What class or caste did I belong to that benefited from those privileges to the detriment of what other group or individuals? In other words: how did my having mean that another would not?

Employment is a very limited answer. As a white male, my father had an advantage over minorities and women. Still does to a lesser extant. Living on an income beyond the hand-to-mouth level can confer a certain amount of privilege. But I can remember the days when he made less than $100 a week and supported a family of five. The kids never went without but pinching pennies was the order of the day. Maybe I wore new clothes but they were purchased for use (not style), I had to make them last, and my half of the closet had plenty of room. New clothes eventually had patches and repairs until they no longer fit. Shoes were worn until falling apart to a point beyond repair. Was I privileged? Was this lifestyle to the detriment of some other kid? And what about the rich kid down the block? Did they put me at a disadvantage? Most of them went to the same schools I did, competed for a spot on the same pee wee baseball team, were enrolled in the same classes at the Y, and belong to the same scout organizations as me. So where is the privilege?

Tags: childhood, memories, privilege

03:06 pm: This was snurched from jaylake.

The list is based on an exercise developed by Will Barratt, Meagan Cahill, Angie Carlen,Minnette Huck, Drew Lurker, Stacy Ploskonka at Illinois State University. The exercise developers ask that if you participate in this blog game, you acknowledge their copyright.  Their website is:

http://wbarratt.indstate.edu/socialclass/social_class_on_campus.htm

If you post this in your blog, please leave a comment on this post. To participate in this blog game, copy and paste the above list into your blog, and bold the items that are true for you. If you don't have a blog, feel free to post your responses in the comments.

Father went to college
Father finished college
Mother went to college
Mother finished college
Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor
Were the same or higher class than your high school teachers
Had more than 50 books in your childhood home.
Had more than 500 books in your childhood home
Were read children's books by a parent
Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18
Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18
The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively
Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18
Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs
Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs
Went to a private high school
Went to summer camp
Had a private tutor before you turned 18
Family vacations involved staying at hotels
Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18
Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them
There was original art in your house when you were a child
Had a phone in your room before you turned 18
You and your family lived in a single family house
Your parent(s) owned their own house or apartment before you left
You had your own room as a child
Participated in an SAT/ACT prep course
Had your own TV in your room in High School
Owned a mutual fund or IRA in High School or College
Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16
Went on a cruise with your family
Went on more than one cruise with your family
Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up
You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family

Tags: childhood, growing-up, memories, privilege, social commentary

01:29 pm: The Year That Was: 2007
OK, everyone else is doing it. I still have two weeks to up the totals and we shall see what I can get done.

Words Written (fiction): 115558
Words Written (blog): 7382
Words Written (critiques): 40817
Short Stories (unfinished): 16
Short Stories (finished): 6
Short Stories (submitted): 1
Short Stories (sold): 0
Novels (unfinished): 14
Novels (finished): 0

It might look pathetic but definitely butt-loads better than last year. This coming year should be even better. I plan on a regular submission schedule to keep finished stories in circulation until they are purchased. I will probably finish at least two stories before the end of this year (remember: I have two weeks left). So, all-in-all, this has been a banner year with the promise of a better one to come.

Tags: 2007, totals, word count, year in review

04:03 pm: Don’t Forget the Pickles!
Wow. Everyone is making their TD feast list full of calories beyond count. Turkey this, that, and the other is the headline followed by whatever flavor of stuffing tickles the palate. Veggie dishes that have not graced the table for 365 days make their appearance. Cranberry {insert prep variation here} are as common as pumpkin pie. Well, just about anyway.

Pies. Oh, yahhhhsss. I wonder what it would feel like to be smothered in pumpkin pie filling? A whole bathtub full. Naw, screw that. Go for an old fashioned cedar hot-tub. Fill it to the brim with spicy pumpkin goodness. Or coconut cream, chocolate pudding, or Granny Smith apples. Homer should have it so good. Aaahhhh, rolling around on a slip’n’slide layered with pumpkin pie filling. Packing coconut cream filling into my armpits. Smearing Key Lime all over my hairy chest. And I know right where that peach pie would feel the best. Just the thought of squishing Marionberry between my toes has me feeling warm all over.

One item that has been rarely mentioned is the relish tray. That is one of my favorites. Two pro games on and I don’t know how many NCAA. Slice up a large stick of summer sausage (or several small ones of different varieties). Plate a few kinds of crackers (Ritz, of course, but I also like those English types that go well with cheese) along with cubes of Swiss, Gruyere, Edam, Provolone, etc. Then go for the pickles. Cucumbers in assorted flavors (Polish, Kosher, Sweet, Gherkin, Butter), olives (and not just those colossal ones in the can either - go for the salty ones swimming in their own brine that you have to spoon into a carton), martini onions, hot green beans, red beets, Daikon radishes, slimy okra, asparagus in white or green, and the ultimate TD pickle choice: the jar of California assorted. It is absolutely amazing what one can do with vinegar, salt, spices, herbs, water, and vegetable matter. Yummers.

Start with a large stein of dark beer and add a goodly dosing of hot sauce. Place some cheese on a cracker, add some meat, and top it off with a large lump of pickle. If your fingers are skinny enough, place pitted olives over the tips and suck them off one at a time. Bloody Marys work well in place of beer. Matter of fact, make a pitcher about two-thirds full and dump pickled asparagus, green beans, and okra in until the fluid level reads full. This is one that you will have to drink and fork at the same time. Marvelous. Simply marvelous.

Now, I am all for cranberry {whatever} on turkey, but pickles go very well with that bird, believe you me. Too many TD dishes rely on sugar anyway. Vinegar is a nice way to cut through all that syrupy sweetness -- especially if you can find the malted kind. Malt vinegar rocks! Malted pickled onions. Malted pickled radishes. Malted pickled cauliflower. Nosh, gnash, slurp, smack, and munch your way through the day.

Does it get any better than this?

Tags: food, pickles, pies, thanksgiving

06:30 pm: Spreading the Word of [insert the name of your favorite deity here]
Once upon a time, way back when, about 150 pounds ago, in the days when I could handle it and not keel over dead from exhaustion, I was a full time student with a full time job. I attend one community college for 18 credit-hours on weekdays and worked full-time at an intermediate care facility as a night desk attendant (sometimes grave and sometimes swing). The job also required periodic overtime when someone didn’t show up for a shift. This was when it became grueling. Overtime did not mean an extra shift per week. It meant a double shift in one night. It meant going to school, then going to work, then going to school, and then going to work again if I had the swing shift. Only after 32-40 hours straight did I get the chance to go home and sleep. Studying was not a problem as there was plenty of opportunity to study at work.

It wasn’t all that bad as I was used to not seeing home for days at a time. This was especially true when I had the graveyard shift. I would often sack-out downstairs in the employee break room after school and my partner would wake me up just before my shift started. Saturdays were a day when I could sleep in and catch-up on some much needed rest. Saturdays were something I had to count on. Saturdays were what was keeping me sane.

Enter the Christians.

Now, I am all for religious freedom. One of my ancestors, Henry Utterback, was a signatory of the Ten-Thousand Name Petition (http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/collections/petitions/rpessay3.html) that helped to establish this country with the founding principal of a separation of church and state. I acknowledge a person’s right to believe as they wish. When it comes to religion, I marked the box indicating none-of-the-above. I have no religious beliefs and do not want any. This is what works for me. It may be different for someone else. But please keep it to yourself. I don’t want to hear it.

So what happens? After working, going to school, and getting very little sleep for a whole week, I arrive back home about 7:00 AM and I am asleep in about another 30 seconds. One hour later there is a knock on the door. If my bedroom were not the very first room inside the apartment, I suppose I could have ignored it. I tried anyway. They knocked again. Grumbling mightily, I put on a pair of jeans (I sleep in my birthday suit) and went to the door. I checked out who it was through the peephole and saw two elderly men in neat but non-descript clothing. I didn’t take a good look as I was not fully awake and really couldn’t care less. I had no idea who they were; just that they were not the cops or my landlord.

I opened the door only to be blasted by beaming smiles, bright teeth, sparkling eyes, glib voices, bookmarked bibles, and shiny pamphlets -- lots of shiny pamphlets. They wanted to bring the word to me. Oh joy -- not. I tried to explain politely to them that I was not interested and to take it someplace else. This did not deter them as they went into their “we have to save your soul” song and dance. Again, I very calmly and very nicely explained this was not my cup of tea; please go find someone else to pester. I was rewarded with their special hell and brimstone extravaganza.

These two were literally jumping like kangaroos with ADHD that have munched too much sugar cane. Meds? What meds? We don’t need no stinking meds. They were hopping around and flailing their arms and backing each other up with quips of hallelujah and praise god. Who needs a revival when there are these two as entertainment? Ordinarily I would have played along just to see them start talking in tongues or convulsing on the floor or whatever idiocy their particular sect subscribes to but I was just so dog tired.

How could I turn from the word of god? How could I not surrender to Jesus? How could I resist being filled with the holy spirit? Indeed: how? I gave them a salute that was not in the tradition of the Boy Scouts nor the gesture for “one way” that some sects like to use. I slammed the door and went back to bed. This time it took me about 30 minutes to get back to sleep. Several hours later, when I got up to pee, I noticed that they had shoved some of the shiny pamphlets under my door. I deposited them in my shiny trash can.

This happened several times over the next six-months until I moved (it had nothing to do with these visits -- I had found a cheaper abode closer to college with a nicer landlord). In each instance it was a jarring interruption of much needed sleep. In each instance there was a different Christian sect peddling their version of religion. In each instance I tried to be polite and shoo them away. In each instance they refused to listen and would not go away until I became rude. This cycle resulted in a few loud arguments, a lot of swearing (mostly from me), and one case of near violence. That latter one ended when his buddies decided that tousling with a young, muscular, half-naked, very angry male was probably not a good idea.

The last unwelcome knock on my door, before I moved, came early Saturday morning after a really bad week for me. Finals are not fun under any circumstance but they were especially gruesome when the idiot on graveyard flakes-off and disappears without a word. I split the shifts with my partner: I would do the first four-hours while he sacked out and then we would switch roles. Lots of coffee and a few black beauties got me through the week. I swore I was going to be dead to the world for at least 24-hours when I got home.

One hour is all they gave me. One stinking hour and they were knocking on my door. I got up and was shaking from lack of sleep. I stumbled to the door and didn’t bother looking through the peephole. I opened the door and in the hall were a woman, two small kids, and a whole collection of Watch Towers and Awake. Their screams let me know I had forgotten to put on my pants. At this point there was not really anything I could say. I simply closed the door and got dressed. Fortunately, my apartment was on the first floor of the building. When I thought the coast was clear, I made my escape via a window, beet feet to a friend’s apartment which was located several miles from mine. I moved out of the apartment in very quick sessions during the next week. I told my landlord I joined the Peace Corp and would be living in Borneo for the two years.

Now, it could very well be that I was just unlucky and all the local churches were holding their annual bring a non-believer to Sunday school drive. You might suggest that I should have stuck a “do not disturb” sign on my door. I tried this but my landlord raised a ruckus and made me take it down. Not sure what that was all about but I wasn’t in a position to argue. Perhaps it was the alignments of the planets or my chakras were out of whack or some other dingbat theorem. Whatever it was, I developed a genuine distaste for people pushing their beliefs on my doorstep. I have mellowed a bit since then but I still do not consider this a civil thing to be doing.

Christians should hold onto their religion and take a long walk off a short pier. I do not want their prattle about gods and jesi buzzing around in my ears. I do not want their pamphlets. I do not want to read their books. I do not want to listen to their sermons. I simply would like them to worship in the church of their choice and not on my doorstep. Is it really that hard of a thing to grasp?

Tags: christians, freedom from religion, religion, religous freedom

04:28 pm: Oh, I Have a Dream
Office: perchance a place where one does business? In my circle of close friends that usually means the dining room table after the dried-on corn flakes and last night's meatloaf crumbs have been cleaned off. Then again, sometimes not. I wonder what the billing departments of America’s corporations would think if they had a rash of bills being paid that included a desiccated M’n’C noodle or a smear of gravy on the bill or chocolate fingerprints on the check?

I personally use a desk just outside the kitchen in the utility room. I have not seen the surface in years. Every once in a while I get the itch to organize things but then I think about where in hell am I going to file all those papers and bills and coupons and receipts and reports and . . . works better than scratching.

In homes that I visit professionally (although the vast majority of patients I see are in the living room or bedroom), I have seen very nice offices that are tidy and organized -- even a few that have their very own rooms -- yowzer! Those are few and far between. In most cases, you can tell where the “office” is by finding the table, end-table, magazine rack, counter-top, or other such receptacle that has a pile of unopened mail and mounds of 8.5x11 whatever. I wonder how much money companies make, in late fees, because people can’t find the g-d bill. I have a WAG that it is seven figures plus.

If by writer’s office you mean a place where writing actually occurs, that would be the computer room for me. Ali and I have a three bedroom, double-wide in which we have designated one of the three for all the hardware and most of the books (so it serves as a library as well). We have an old five-foot high entertainment center, two double-shelf book stands, one triple-decker, and a crate that are all stuffed with books. Yea, verily even the tops of these are crowned with books, CDs, M:TG paraphernalia, and an assortment of stuffed . . . er . . . things (such as a bearded, anatomically correct troll and a lonely Bevis doll pining away for his missing Butthead). We even have a shelf at the top the former closet on which we have deposited magazines and software boxes (about 50-50).

Then there are the two banquet tables that form an L-shape in one corner. One table is home for the working computer, laserjet, and the officejet all-in-one. The other has all the office supplies, in-out bins, and more stuff (books, magazines, program books, software boxes, etc). An old kitchen table juts out in the middle of the room to form a very lopsided horseshoe with the other tables. This one sports mini-skyscrapers of genealogy papers, photos, and documents that are mixed in with manuscripts, notepads, and other 8.5x11 whatever are about 18 inches high and rising.

Only one table has foot space under it where the PC (plenty of cables) is hooked up. All the rest have boxes of papers, piles of books, shipwrecks of ancient computers, anchor weights of CRTs, and majestic mountains of dusty, web-covered crap that had purpose at one time but are now a mere whimsy of potential usefulness. Ali wants to chuck it all. I weep at the thought.

But, like MLK, I have a dream. It is of Boeing surplus file cabinets inhabiting my closet. It is of huge decks of manila folders with left, right, and middle tabs. It is of the hardware graveyard where ancient tech-devices go to die; to be reassembled as toasters or cable macramé. I have a dream of a second station, hooked up to the main computer, so that Ali and I do not have to play “Are You Finished Yet?” every time we want to get online. I have a dream of dreary knotty-pine veneer panels that are covered in eye-pleasing art and shelves of books in alphabetical order according to author.

Oh, indeed, I have a dream.

Tags: computers, homes, offices, writing

09:04 pm: Words
Powerful little buggers. Words that is. A finely skilled wordsmith can create fictitious worlds that leave readers weeping, wishing with every fiber in their being to make it all real. Think of the power of Tolkien. Some folks blather about the verbiage of his works, and how JRR did not know the meaning of economy, but I dare them to find another piece of fantasy literature that has touched more people so deeply. If it were possible to create a continent in the middle of an ocean that was the exact duplicate of Middle Earth, then that place would have a migration problem that would make the illegal alien debacle in the USA seem orderly and efficient. The numbers involved would not be in the thousands -- it would quite easily be in the millions, perhaps even hundreds of millions. People from all over the world would move heaven and hell to live there, all because of a masterful description of an imaginary place.

Political pundits can sway entire nations with their editorials and spins on reality. Think of two words: Swift Water. The bloke who coined the phrase “sticks and stones” obviously never knew Adolf Hitler. Propaganda knows neither good nor evil and its final merits will be decided by the victor. Dachau is a quaint, beautiful town with a medieval palace in Bavaria. Go ahead: ask someone if they would like to take a vacation and tour Dachau. Baroque style architecture will be the last thing they’ll be thinking when they hear that name. Rhetoric can be used to achieve monumental goals or it can be used to persuade decent, law-abiding citizens into committing truly heinous acts.

So what is keeping Pinky and the Brain from world domination? Perhaps it is the old adage of fooling people some of the time, others all of the time, and so forth. Some slogans have a time limit. I can remember Winston tasting good. Do they even make them anymore? Think back to the snappy jingles of your youth. Better yet, dust the cobwebs from that corner of the mind and remember those wonderful teenage expressions that sound so classy then but sound so pathetic now. How long has it been since you said something was really berry? Or the last time you asked someone if they could dig it? The world keeps changing and so does our language.

Be that as it may, the English language is still very rich and getting richer with additional words every year. True, some words fall from favor and become obsolete or archaic but, for the most part, our language keeps growing. So it comes as a surprise to me when I recently had a few stories critiqued. I was gigged for language use that was foreign, obscure, and arcane. What were the words that stirred up such disdain and ire? Hirsute, croft, haggis, fop, laird, vitriolic, and argentum made the list. Now, some of these words are not commonly used in everyday conversation. I doubt very much if you could pick up a magazine or newspaper and find all seven words used within.

However, there is a book that not only contains all seven words referenced above, but virtually all the words on the unhappy list. It is called a dictionary. Sad to say, some folks need a remedial course in how to use one. Still, it did put me in a quandary over what to do with my short stories. Do I dumb them down so that my readers will have an easier time understanding my tales? Or do I keep true to my prose and let the words stand as is? I decided to compromise and keep the manuscript as written with only a few changes to the more complex phrases and sentences. If and when a publisher purchases a work of mine, I will heed the stipulations of the editor as to what words to keep and which words will send me scuttling toward my thesaurus.

Tags: critiques, critters, words, writing

12:31 am: Internet Resources
One thing that a writer must have, even if that writer produces only works of fiction, is good resources of information. I suppose an author can still expound on something that they know little about and get away with it provided they produce a very good story. True, they will have hordes of nitpickers gnashing apart the text in search of every inconsistency or the smallest error. Think of those folks who scan movies for the jet contrail in the sky above knights doing battle or the 16th century Buccaneer that glances at his Timex wrist watch. Still, if the writer has written a very good tale, these things will probably be overlooked by the majority of readers.

I’m not that good. I’m also a bit of a perfectionist. I need to have my facts straight before I start writing on any particular subject. Even then, I will diligently check my facts all throughout the writing process. No, I’m not perfect and my writing is often peppered with errors I do not see. That is the purpose of writing groups, workshops, beta readers, and other forms of prepublication critiques. No matter how good you think you are, no matter how many awards you have won or how many times you have been published, there in your manuscript is that which will make you say: “Doh!”

I like to think that I produce manuscripts that are akin to being clean. That is to say that I diligently go over spelling, grammar, punctuation, word usage, and all the little things that I have control over. I miss a comma here or an incorrect word usage there but, for the most part, my writing is free from those types of errors. Too many PoVs, passive writing, info dumping, telling instead of showing, and other forms of [whoops!] are still very much in my domain of things on which I need to work. With all that going against me, and I’m not even halfway through my million words, I need to at least keep my facts and words straight.

To help me in that endeavor, I have a few key websites that I use. I’m still using AOL (don’t ask) and I have my main, go-to sites up on that wimpy hot button toolbar. They are the ones that I use most frequently -- two search engines, an encyclopedia, a thesaurus, two dictionaries, and a few other pertinent sites. I have tons of other websites in “my favorite places” but these are the ones I use on an almost daily basis. There very well could be other, even niftier sites out there but these are what I have:

Mega-Search Engine
Dogpile <http://www.dogpile.com/>
A way cool website that incorporates quite a few other search engines such as Google, Ask, MSN, and Yahoo. It will often pull up websites that any one of the others leaves off.

Main Search Engine
Google <http://www.google.com/>
Don’t be alone without it.

Dictionary
The Free Dictionary by Farlex <http://www.thefreedictionary.com/>
This was a real find. It has an excellent dictionary that also combines with several other dictionaries, encyclopedias, and other resources. It also has a daily page that is too cool to start the day off with that first cup of coffee. It includes an article of the day, word of the day, in the news article, this day in history which highlights a single event, a quotation of the day, and several other tidbits. The neat thing about this page is that it will increase your knowledge of trivia and your vocabulary at the same time. It is all linked so that you can spend as much or as little time as you want with this one page. The dictionary itself is awesome.

OED Dictionary
Ask Oxford <http://www.askoxford.com/dictionaries/?view=uk>
I don’t use this one any where near as much as I should. Good site.

Thesaurus
Thesaurus.com <http://thesaurus.reference.com/>
Nothing too fancy but it works just great. Also comes with a dictionary, encyclopedia, mega-reference, and web search.

Encyclopedia
Wikipedia <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/main_page>
I have heard tales that some of the information is not exactly accurate but I have not run across anything untoward in my searches. Way too much information to not have it available.

Resource
SFWA <http://www.sfwa.org/>
Although I am not a member [yet!], this website has an incredible array of pertinent material for the beginning writer. Most of the stuff they have available for non-members contain true pearls of wisdom.

Critiques
Critters <http://www.critique.org/users/critters/>
An extremely useful group for getting that necessary feedback on your story or novel. While the folks that will be sending you critiques, for the most part, are rank amateurs, they are also readers of SF/F/H. If you receive several email critiques stating that a portion of your manuscript is not working, then you can be fairly assured that an editor or publisher will think the same thing. Overall, I am happier with Critters than I am with any other critique resource I have tried to date. Lots of links to other resources such as market reports, response times from publishers, and so forth. Well worth joining.

Tags: internet, resources, websites, writing

08:53 pm: Writing, Being Alone, and Music
Writing fiction can be a lonely journey. Sure, there are communities and writing groups where one can find mutual support. Conventions can be a fine place to socialize and network. Workshops, seminars, classes, and retreats can all help. However, when it comes time to put words on a page, it is just you and the keyboard.

This is not necessarily a bad thing. Take, for example, a writers’ workshop wherein your manuscript is dissected, hopefully, by more knowledgeable authors. The tips and pointers that can be garnered from those sessions might be just the ticket to produce a marketable story. However, there is always the risk of running up against a collection of flaming egos. You know, those folks that prefer to divulge what should be in your story rather than giving sage advice and enlightenment as to how you can tell your own story in a better way. Sometimes the difference between a helpful manuscript critique and urine soaked paper can be a fine line.

What it boils down to is that you must hear the voice in your own head above and beyond all others. It is not that you should ignore what everyone else is saying. It is just that the tale originated in your mind and you should be the person most familiar with it. What happens between the first word and the last amounts to the story in your mind. Arranging the words in a manuscript, so that others can experience your vision/dream/imagination, is the art of storytelling.

This means that writing is necessarily a solitary vice. Even in collaborations, writers must sing with their own voice. The environment in which they choose to orchestrate this tune can be another individual difference. Some writers must have absolute solitude and zero distractions. The voice they hear will not tolerate competition. Other writers can only create when they are surrounded by the sensory input of a crowded café or turbulent tavern.

For myself, I prefer my own cozy computer room. My wife and I live in a three bedroom mobile home, one of which is dedicated to books, files, and computers. What I like most about that arrangement is that I have almost total control of the environment. For the most part, I can adjust the temperature, air flow, lighting, and other comfort levels.

I have to have coffee. I cannot write without it. One of my three wishes would be the installation of a small espresso/coffee center in the computer room. Either that or an IV set on permanent drip. Right now, I make do with the coffee maker in the kitchen and the occasional use of an air pot.

Besides feeding my caffeine addiction, the only other requirement I have to create copy (beyond resource material, reference books, computer, etc) is total control over the source, level, and type of noise in the room. Writing in total silence would annoy the hell out of me. Being in the presence of others while they are conversing, to me or someone else, while I am writing would drive me up a wall. I want noise that I choose and that means music.

I like music. I like music a lot. Writing without music to me would be like eating food sans spice or herb. What would be the point? Sure, one could produce the written page, but what bland content would be on it? Think of all the great movies that you have ever seen. What would they be without their soundtracks? A not-so-great movie, that’s what.

Consider what the musical score did for Conan the Barbarian. It gave it excitement, expression, punctuated the action, helped to distract from Austrian accents, created tension, fanned the flames of the viewers’ emotions, and produced an atmosphere that made the film enjoyable. Think of how dull that movie would be without that great orchestration to set the mood.

Same thing with my writing. I would find it incredibly dull to write if I couldn’t choose musical selections to get me in the proper mood. If I am writing a fantasy tale set in the Scottish Highlands, then I want to be listening to bagpipes, Steeleye Span, and the Tannahill Weavers. I want music that will keep my mind in that setting and make the mundane world around me disappear. For me, music is not a distraction but a necessary accompaniment for my writing. As long as I have my music, it’s OK to be alone.

Tags: music, writing

03:27 pm: Old Friends
Steve is a really great friend of mine. We have been roommates, beer buddies, confidants, best men (he did the honors at both of mine and I was privileged to be able to return the favor for him), rabble rousers, pool sharks and fresh fish, compadres in low places, connoisseurs of topless bars, and just plain good friends for about 35 years. We’ve done sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll (not necessarily with each other or at the same time). We had fast times and slow moments. We’ve enjoyed the ultimate extra-onions burger. We’ve had our brains sullied by vampires, hooch dancers (and their sisters), bikers (and their mommas), napoleon wannabes, dykes with dildoes, bar flies, bar bitches (hey -- wasn’t that a bar-bitch-you-ate?), skin hoofers, and sleaze artisans. We have seen the pink, the red, the brown, the green, the techno-colored, and hues that most mortal men only see in their dreams. We have been with each other at our lowest points in life and also at our highest (or thereabouts for each -- close enough). The amazing thing is that most of the preceding occurred in the first 10-15 years. It’s been a relative cake walk in comparison since then. Yes, we have had some great times and some bad times. The former are more numerous and far outweigh the latter.

In short: we be mates.

He has put up with me even after I blew up his car, laughed hysterically at his doorknobs and socks, ruined his party by acting like a complete ass, broke his dog’s leg, bopped his girlfriend’s daughter, boned a frog in the back of his van, frolicked with dryads just short of eviction, got so drunk that I exploded from both ends before passing out in his living room, mooched in brazen fashion, and other sundry sullied items too numerous to mention. Some of this stuff was just unbelievable. Steve remained my friend long after I would have shot myself and pissed on my remains.

The past 15 or so years, we have seen each other on an infrequent basis. Steve and his wife moved in one direction while my daughter and I moved in another. Things changed. My daughter is now grown, married, and has a child of her own. I met a new wife from New York on the Internet. I live in a peaceful area about 12 minutes away from a small town. He just moved to the suburbs of one of the largest cities in the state. He purchased the company after being one of their employees for over twenty years. I work part-time and depend on my wife for a steady income even though I make some very good bucks at what I do (she has the benies while I’m an independent contractor).

Yes, our lives have become very different.

Steve and Theresa came over for dinner tonight. It was nice to just sit around and chat about this, that, and the other. It felt good to reminisce about old times. It was also surprising how many things we could remember that our wives did not know about. Then again, considering everything that we have experienced, perhaps it was no surprise at all. We had a great time and promised to do it again.

Yes, it was fun. It also reminded me how close I have come to death, disease, and jail. And that would most decidedly not be in a heroic fashion in any sense of the word. Perhaps the line between youth and wisdom could be drawn at the point when it becomes better to recall causing trouble and then letting memories suffice.

Tags: memories, steve, youth

01:37 pm: LJ Users Beware: FNG Onboard
So, here I am writing my second journal entry and I am still fumbling my way around in here. Not unexpected at all. I’m getting used to some of the features but a lot of it has me a wee bit befuddled. I’ve listed a few folks as “friends” and had a notice from two of them that they listed me as “friend” (thanks Maggie! thanks Frank!), so that was kind of a cool feeling. A golly-gee-whiz-I actually-did-this-right type of thing. Feedback can be good for the ego at times.

I’m not so sure about the communities and interest groups. I signed up on a few of them and they were slammed onto my friends list. Is that what is meant to happen? It left me feeling uneasy. Like, oh crap, I screwed it up this time. What is truly annoying about the process is that, when I try to view them, I get a dump of entries that take up too much space with something I have already read. I would prefer just to view the latest entry. If I wish to review their archive, I can go to that site and wallow in their submissions.

Speaking of annoying things, I want to find the instructions so that I can take my name off my own friends list. Number one: I am not _that_ self-centered. Number two: I have already read what I wrote since I do not know how to write something without reading it while I am writing it. Yeesh. If I cannot scratch my name off the list, I hope I can find instructions on how to truncate entries so I do not have my entire journal popping into view every damn time I want to check out what my “friends” are writing. This also brings to mind that I would like to limit the number of entries for each friend.

Now, mind you, I truly enjoy reading some of this stuff. It would be a bit silly for me to be on LJ if I didn’t. However, enough is enough. For example: Jay Lake is a writer of some accomplishment and I pay attention when he speaks. He has paid his dues, and can enlighten folks to publishing road hazards, so that this path does not have to be quite so ridden with potholes. Those can hurt fresh fish. Think of it as a fist-shaped cylindrical object placed in such a position that -- whenever one encounters an obstacle, hindrance, or trammel -- this object performs an eye-widening entry into a place where the sun is not supposed to shine. It can take a whole lot of resolve to stay behind the writing wheel when traveling from rough draft street to editor lane to bookstore circle. Jay’s journal is chock-full of pointers for aspiring writers that help ease the pain if not completely avoid the problem that causes it. At the very least, some of his tips will call the newbie author’s attention to the KY in the glove compartment. Like I stated: I enjoy reading his journal entries. It’s just that I would rather not have to read the same one for the umpteenth time because it gets posted whenever I log on to my account. So, how can I set my friends list to only show the last two or three entries?

And how do I find other experienced writers from whom I can glean pearls of genre wisdom? I’ve caught on to the look-at-the-responses-on-your-friend’s-journal approach. I’ve tried searching interests and communities. That was less than productive. I’m still puzzling out how She-Bears (i.e.: Wild Women against Razors) has anything to do with writing SF/F. It’s not that I have any prejudices pertaining to hirsute females, but my search parameters should have eliminated that particular community from consideration. I’m not too concerned as I figure, with enough trial and error attempts, I will be able to zero in on what I’m looking for as well as passing up Gay Elf Lime Jell-O Fantasies, Postage Stamp Glue Addicts for Christ, and that totally redundant community: Neo-Conservative Reprobates for Bush. My guess is that I will find the method or terminology that will allow the tumblers to line up on jackpot. Hopefully sooner than later.

Venturing into newly found weblands can be challenging but ultimately rewarding. I’m sure that if I hack at it long enough, I will be able to ring those bells and make the whistles sing. The first thing I should get down pat is how to bring up the Q&A for whatever is causing an itch. Learn how to scratch all over again. Meantime, as long as you folks are nice about it, don’t be bashful about rolling up a newspaper whenever I pee on the carpet.

Current Mood: curious

Tags: livejournal, searching, writing

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04:50 pm: Norwescon 30
Another year, another Norwescon.

This version was middling decent. There was enough to do to placate most people. The Art Show was better than it had been in years (although there was some serious grousing by a few local artists). The Dealers Room had a somewhat satisfactory selection. It seemed to be doing well with cash flowing to the dealers and goods to the fen. Hospitality was an armpit but I’ve seen worse. The Program Book would have been stellar at most conventions but was something of a disappointment for a Norwescon. Again, it wasn’t all that bad. The Green Room missed the point but then the concept for its original purpose has been negated to an extent by the web (why do it an hour before the panel when you can discuss the subject matter at length before the con -- doesn’t happen in most cases but there is the potential with some better communication and more efficient coordination). Registration seemed to run smoothly for the most part with only a blunder here and there. There was an abundance of flyers, leaflets, bookmarks, posters, and other paper products attractive to Suzy Fangirl and Robby Fanboy. The club tables seemed a bit slow to set-up and the folks running them had that exhausted look about them -- even on Thursday. Hopefully the parties and socials were a lot more lively. Like I said: middling decent.

The Writing Workshop was another rousing success thanks to the efforts of Renee Stern, John Pitts, and the Fairwooders (kudos also to the participants and readers). There were quite a few manuscripts submitted and a few that were not included because the Inn ran out of room (insert “other reasons” here). To all of you that participated: feedback is very important to the health of this workshop so, when you receive that email from Renee requesting input, please respond. This is especially true if you have any ideas that might improve part of the workshop or the workshop as a whole. Even if these ideas are not implemented, it is still important to receive them. Any idea can be changed or revised or stimulate other ideas or otherwise morph the workshop into its next life-form. In other words: Input -- Good . . . Silence -- Bad.

My particular session went very well. Commencing about 0900 on Friday morning, the air in the room was already making me swelter, even before we started. The room basked in bright morning sunshine and the hotel had the heater running. Not a great combination for human comfort. It was kind of neat, though, as you could traverse the three stairs to be in an environment that was at least twenty degrees cooler and had a luminosity many candle-feet less that in that mountain room. I tried lowering the blinds and met with less than success. Renee came in and did not have a problem -- must have needed that feminine touch. Having the blinds down improved things a wee bit but we still had to live with the heater going. Oh, well. I checked it later that day and conditions were quite tolerable for the other workshop sessions.

Three out of four readers were there to critique my manuscript. The fourth had some personal issues arise and was not able to make it to the convention. Things like that happen and I was told that person would be emailing me a critique. The remaining three offered their input and I found it very valuable as per usual for the Norwescon Writers Workshop. I have my notes, some of their notes, and am awaiting email versions for the rest. I have high hopes to be able to change the story and produce something quite salable with the feedback I received. Overall: quite satisfactory.

The NWW soirée went well and I had a great conversation with Peter Dennis Pautz, Bruce Taylor, Lisa Jean Bothell, Mike Brennan, and a few others. Blue Boar Ale is nice and yummy -- goes well with chocolate eggs, too. All-in-all, I’m sure a good time was had by all.

The writing panels were in plentiful supply. Most of them seemed to be the same perennial favorites, either as they have been in the past or with a new paint job. This is not necessarily a bad thing as some subjects bear repeating and others are worth getting a fresh perspective. Important things to writing, such as critique groups or mechanics, are beneficial enough to warrant repeated panels every year. I cannot attend enough panels on PoV, show-don’t-tell, plot/character/setting, or other subjects that do nothing but give me the necessary information and ideas to strengthen my own writing. However, it would be great if there were panels on other topics besides the same-old same old. I realize that there is only so much room to place panels on a grid but it can be done. Still, I wish Norwescon had done a better job with this part of the literary track. After all, Norwescon is supposed to be a literary convention above and beyond all the other things it represents. Part of being a literary convention is the nurturing of the unpublished writer. Maybe next year.

There was some new blood, serving as panelists, as well as the seasoned veterans. It was good to hear these fresh faces speak and I noticed more than one that should be invited on a permanent basis. They had an invigorating point of view, presented it in a very clear and distinct manner, and challenged the audience to embrace new concepts (also old concepts of enduring value). I can only hope that Norwescon provided these people with an experience worth repeating.

OK, so maybe it wasn’t the greatest Norwescon of all time, but I am still glad I attended.

Current Mood: optimistic

Tags: cons, norwescon, writing workshops

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