Yeah . . . Right

So Blogger has FORCED me to switch to the new format. I think it sucks. They must think I will be thrilled to enter my damned full e-mail address just to make a comment on blogs I frequent. Well, I'm not feelin' it.

Can you hear me Google? We know you are the Man, and I'm not talking about the good one. We're on to you.

R.

PS I loaded the map because I am considering a crusade against the new Blogger.

Tech Writing and Italian Literature

The other day in my Professional and Technical Writing course we were scheduled to do some peer editing. My instructor said that withholding feedback on work is rude, that "it is actually quite Machiavellian in that if you do you are trying to ensure that you (the student withholding feedback) will get a better grade than the person you are offering to edit." It was a beautiful moment for me and I took great pleasure in the reference to that fine writer from renaissance Italy. Machiavelli is most well known for writing The Prince (not the song covered by Metallica from Garage Inc), an outline of what a leader would need to unite Italy and end the wars between Spain/Holy Roman Empire and France that had been fought on Italian ground for generations. It is a very interesting work, and worth some time and consideration. Machiavelli really outlined the Divine-Right Kings era before it actually happened, ie. Kings like Louis XIV could have been poster boys for The Prince even if they weren't around when it was written. So here's to teachers that can use Machiavellian in a sentence and still make it apply. Write on.

R.

In My Hands

Not only is it a cool song (okay, I suppose it is actually All Within My Hands if you want to be technical) but it was cool to hold it in my hands. I took the 53,000 word edition of Tales from the Laughing Grass and printed it out using MS Word's Book Fold format. It was surreal. Being the frickin' genius that I am, I looked at the stack of paper, than at the mighty appearing paper cutter there in the computer lab, and I proceeded to choppy-choppy. Of course I tried to choppy-choppy the stack all at once. You may be able to imagine how that went. Or you may not. If you can't and you decide to try it to find out, make sure you use scrap paper and not your one of a kind manuscript. Even if it is only one of a kind until you put another buck-and-a-half on your University card so you can print another. Anyways, I trimmed up the carnage as well as I could and swung by Kinkos to see if they could staple or bind it somehow. Because of the massacred edges, however, they deemed it impossible. They said to just let them cut it next time. It will only cost another buck-and-a-half to have them to choppy-choppy and and a few more bucks to bind it in a nice fashion. In spite of the self-imposed setback it felt incredible to hold that stack of stories in my hands and talk with Elyena about how we got to this point. It is very satisfying, even in the face of the work still ahead of us.

With a large handful of submission deadlines coming up, I thought I would throw out my picks for the stuff I'm going to try my hand at in the next little while. I am considering "A Day in the Sun", "The Traveler's Gift", "Toll Man", and "To Turn on One's Own" for upcoming events. Nothing is set in stone. I feel at right now that I am too close to the stories to objectively rate their odds at various venues, but Elyena is trying to help with the issue. Suggestions are welcome.

So that is what is going on in the realm of my writing (besides class work, and my Cather paper was such a hit I don't think I will spend much time here addressing it unless I can't help myself) right now. Write on.

R.

It's Nice to Meet a Goal Now and Then

With the completion of a fun little story I call "The Captaincy", Tales from the Laughing Grass has now exceded 50,000 words. Translated into a book-sized format, that is between 170-210 pages. Not a huge book, I know, but The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde is only 198. O Pioneers by Willa Cather (read the in-depth analysis of some of her work in my archives) is about the same, so I am excited. It is also long enough that if I had made it there earlier I could have sent it in to the Jefferson Press Fiction Book Contest (I probably wouldn't have, for various reasons, but it was a goal none-the-less). So anyways, the stories keep stacking up. Thank you to all of you that have edited or otherwise encouraged my efforts in this regard. Write On.

R.

On Good Behavior

So my boss' laptop took the old lead sleeping tablet. That in itself may not be bad. However, as it were, he has selected to work at the computer terminal right in front of mine on this day. "It could be worse," you are thinking, and you're right. He could be sitting behind me. Except that with that same wisdom that led me to select the back-most seat back in my school days (the ones where I was a kid, not the ones where I had kids) I selected the the back-most desk. Yes, it's true. So here I am, struggling to keep my muscle-relaxented brain focused on productivity while his big black cloud hangs over my corner of the workspace. Even so.

Write on.

R.

The Problem of Metallica

. . . or “Oh yeah, this is my favorite album.” So I was listening to …And Justice for All on my way back to work this afternoon, and as the title track dropped into that crunching post-solo grind I thought to myself, “Self, this has got to be the greatest album Metallica ever did. IT’S MY FAVORITE.” But then I had a series of flashbacks: me, listening to the amazing solo work of the title track to Ride the Lightning and thinking, “Self, this has got to be the greatest album Metallica ever did. IT’S MY FAVORITE.” Me, listening to the down-tuned clean riffage in The Unnamed Feeling (St. Anger) and thinking, “Self, this has got to be the greatest album Metallica ever did. IT’S MY FAVORITE.” Me, listening to the ominous riff to Kill ‘em All’s Seek and Destroy and thinking, “Self, this has got to be the greatest album Metallica ever did. IT’S MY FAVORITE.” Me, listening to the first minute of The Prince off Garage, Inc. and thinking, “Self, this has got to be the greatest album Metallica ever did. IT’S MY FAVORITE.” Me, listening to the funky, yet moving, introduction to Fixxxer from Reload and thinking, “Self, this has got to be the greatest album Metallica ever did. IT’S MY FAVORITE.” Me, listening to the deft slide work on Mama Said from Load and thinking, “Self, this has got to be the greatest album Metallica ever did. IT’S MY FAVORITE,” (except for Ain’t My B**** and 2X4, which I despise). Me, listening to the incredible live opening to -Human from S&M and thinking, “Self, this has got to be the greatest album Metallica ever did. IT’S MY FAVORITE,” (again, not really, because I think it is overkill, but the new songs that were actually designed for Symphony and Metallica are lovely). Me, listening to the tremolo soaked rhythm part in Welcome Home (Sanitarium) from Master of Puppets and thinking, “Self, this has got to be the greatest album Metallica ever did. IT’S MY FAVORITE.” Me, listening to Kirks solo on Don’t Tread on Me (Black Album) and thinking, “Self, this has got to be the greatest album Metallica ever did. IT’S MY FAVORITE.” I could have just as easily used the descending melody in Astronomy, or the harminized solo from Nothing Else Matters (which really did nothing for me until I saw them perform it live once), or the monster riffage from For Whom the Bell Tolls, the incredible intro to Devil's Dance, or the non-stop assault of Disposable Heroes (all 8:16 of it).

I’m guessing that you can see the trend. I don’t think I am alone in this. I think it is a problem for Metallica fans worldwide. What is a rarely-stop rocker to do though? For now I think I will just set my computer to play all the Metallica in its library. And if you decide to do the same, then Right On. Er, Write On. Even so.

R.

In the Mail

In the mail indeed. In the end, the lovely Elyena and I decided to send WotF a short story trilogy that we called Suffer the Child. It is made up of the stories "The Wasted Portion", "To Turn on One's Own", and "A New Guardian" and tells the riveting tale of the pre-Captain's wrestle with acceptance, morality, and authority. It is a charming, if violent, story. I am sure you are asking yourself, "Self, how many times does the pre-Captain get his bum kicked in this episode?" I'll give you a complete rundown of the incident statistics (+/- 25%).

Corpses: 6

Snubbings: 7

Smacktalk: 4

Smackdowns (the pre-Captain): 2

Smackdowns (someone else): 5

Cleaning up the baby: 2

Groupthink (the product of a mob of people) actually leading to something good: 1 (I know you're skeptical, but it could happen)

Getting knocked around by horses: 2

Romantic moments: 0

Asking for directions: 2

So that is Suffer the Child told statistically. Was it edifying? Satisfying? Horrifying? I found that to be an interesting experiment myself. Someone who has read the prose may disagree with my numbers, but like a professional statician I allowed enough of a margin of error that they don't mean anything anyways.

I also sent out ADIS to face the Kurt Vonnegut Fiction Prize challenge. While WotF should have results back in 10-15 weeks, I have no idea on the KVFP. Since it is annual, I suppose they could deliberate for a year on it. We shall see. Both contests publish winners and offer a satisfying cash prize.

So, Write On. And I will too.

R.

ADIS vs. Writers of the Future Results

And the results are . . . a not-win for "A Day in the Sun". That's the price you pay for shortness: ask any man under five feet tall and he'll tell you that it was his shortness as that held him back. I think that may be ADIS' problem too, in this competition. With a max word count of 17,ooo, other entries had as many as 13,000 more words to help them "sell" their story than ADIS, which came in at a short 3,904 words. Next stop for ADIS will be Kurt Vonnegut's Fiction Prize. With a word limit of 7,000, ADIS will be more of a competitor in the Fiction Prize. We shall see, anyways.

In light of my discovery that Writers of the Future winners all seem to be at least 9,000 words (usually more in the 14-16,000 range) I am considering putting a run of stories together under a single title and then calling each story Part 1: Bond of Truth, Part 2: The Wasted Portion, Part 3: To Turn on One's Own, etc. My only concern is that each "part" would read like an individual short story, and I have no desire to change that, meaning that I personally am okay with that. I would enjoy reading it, even if no one else did. Someone must like that kind of stuff or David Drake would still be practicing law instead of carrying on the career brought about by the Hammer's Slammers collection (which, though he did eventually write some Slammers novels, the first books were short story and novella collections).

In other new I have set to editing and revising Tales from the Laughing Grass now that I am on Winter Break. It is going a little slower than I had hoped, but I have been enjoying going back through those stories. It has been very encouraging.

Write On

R.

"Culture of Conflict" Update and Army of Anyone

Not a loser, not a loser, not a loser. Just thought I would let you know that the judges thought so highly of the entries (including CoC) that they only gave out two of three places. So, CoC might have taken 3rd, but they didn't think it deserved it. We'll never know. I should have let them choke on "An Evening with the Quill", but it's all in the past now.

In more positive news, I have been listening to Army of Anyone and enjoying it immensely. It is the amalgamation of the DeLeo brothers from STP and that Patrick guy from Filter (you know, the guys that do "Hey man, Nice Shot" or whatever it's called), along with David Lee Roth's old drummer Loozer, or Luzier, or something like that. You might be thinking "Wow, he must be an old guy if he played with David Lee Roth" but I don't know what era of DLR he played in, and however old he is he really pounds the skins. This is something that I have looked for in drummers ever since playing with that limp-sticked protestant with LH back in the summer of 2001. But the Patrick guy does some decent to excellent, and his lyrics make one-billion times more sense than anything (almost, at least) that Scott Weind (SP?) ever wrote even if he doesn't quite have the voice. The DeLeos are playing as fine as ever, the music structurally reminds me more of Tiny Music than Core or Purple, but it is mixed more thickly and not so many single-coil guitars (like Shangria La Dida). Overall I am enjoying the overall effect. So check it out, if you dare.

I am feeling pretty excited to start revising Tales from the Laughing Grass this break. CoC not winning is just a hiccup in my master plan, so expect to see more and better from the old R. Write On.

R.

To Win, or Not to Win

Just in case you were wondering to yourself, "Self, I wonder how R's story CoC did in that one contest?" and then you had to think about which contest because it seems like R has stuff scattered all over the place right now, I have news, or at least some convincing gossip. A peer of mine found out that he took 2nd Place middle of last week. So either my victory letter ended up at the mailman's house or I got SHOT DOWN like a Cobra attack copter vs. an insurgent with a rocket launcher. I make it sound more traumatic than it really is, I'm sure. It may be that I am the absolute sorest loser any of my friends have had the misfortune of playing Katan, Axis & Allies, MERP, Yahtzee, or any other assorted game with, but my motto today is Not Winning is Different than Losing. That's right. It's the road I'm driving today.

In other news, my Custer paper kicked my professor upside the head like Bruce Lee, or Chuck Norris, or at least like Jackie Chan. Based on the rave reviews the Cather paper received, I don't think I shall post it because we all know Cather is way more interesting than the Battle of Little Big Horn. Or close at least. I can only imagine what html will do to footnotes. It might be worth posting just to find out.

In yet more news, I resolved the romance issue in novel #1 (which I think I will call The Big Smackdown) when I gave my story "To Turn on One's Own" a good looking over. I won't bother you with the details, but I think it will add a nice dynamic tension to the situation. So there you have it.

Don't be afraid to Rock, and Write On.

R.

Speculation from a Lit Major

I wonder if it is requisite that to be a true Lit major a person has to learn to over-read perfectly enjoyable stories and poems by fine artists. Feel free to check out the elegant lines of Marianne Moore's poetry, if you will. It is moving, but sometimes a lizard is just a lizard, and a vase is just a vase. But if you see the deeper meaning, as my classmates did, I am happy for you. I think some works can possess multiple layers of allegory and meaning, however, I did not catch the vision tonight. I suppose that is the way it goes sometimes.

So now that I've ranted about over-analysis, get ready for me to post my study of four works by Willa Cather. If it doesn't convince you to take up the English Lit banner then . . . well, that doesn't really mean anything. Write on.

R.

I think I should re-emphasize that Moore's poetry is excellent, and her word use is superb, so do check out some of her poetry.

To Turn on One's Own - Don't Read it While Eating

I completed towards the end of last week a draft of To Turn on One's Own, which came in a meaty 3,904 words. I won't elaborate on my advice, save to say that I restrained my artistic expression in the hut scene for those of you that might experience an enjoyment breakdown from descriptions of . . . shall we call it yucky stuff? So it will hopefully turn out as well as some as some of my others once it has been revised a few times. I enjoyed writing it and am pleased with the substance. For good or bad a full third of it is action, with the pre-captain being shown a good time by an ambitious squad-mate. If that isn't tempting enough there will be some trick riding, some intentional repetition, and a drawing up of lines.

I think I will post my Cather paper next time, but I think it may be a touch dry and formal for this setting. Any thoughts? I'd like to see a comment from Zilla, the sneaky blog reader who claims his internet isn't working and that is why he couldn't comment about something. But I'd like to see world peace too, like Pryderi from The High King, or world piece, like my own personal island nation, but I digress.

Good luck, and Write On

R.

Upcoming Posts

For those of you who keep up here I wanted to let you know that, dependent on how busy I am at work, I intend to write some analysis on Willa Cather's O Pioneers (1913) and Edith Wharton's Age of Innocence (1920). I might also share some thoughts on poetry by Ezra Pound and W.C. Williams, but there is probably other things I would rather post about.

Not the least of which is my newest story, To Turn on One's Own, which I have almost completed a draft of. It will be longer that my most recent tales, probably sitting in that sweet 2500-5000 word range that I seem to fall in. It is another pre- captain story, and hopefully it will be mighty satisfying to them as that read it.

And a quick or not-so-quick question for those of you up to answering it. I've made most of you aware of my intention to start working on the(or a) novel in January. Chronologically this first novel will fall somewhere between the stories Pluck This Jewel . . . and Resurrection. That may or may not mean anything to you, but that is what prompts the aforementioned question. When you read a book, how important is the romantic (romantic as in the lover relationship, as opposed to romantic taking liberties with reality, as in the British Romantic Period in Literature, which had little to do with being in love) element? I am assuming that you do not pick up books that would be considered romances (ie. Harlequin Romance novels) but you might, I suppose. Have you ever read a book where the relationship focus was on friendships rather than romance? If so, what was it and how did you feel about it? Did it rate with a similar book that had a romance element? I hope that you will consider my questions, because I would like to know what you think. If you are not comfortable leaving your answer as a comment feel welcome to e-mail me with it, but please comment and let me and the others know that that is what you are doing. I appreciate all of your support, I don't think I would be making the progress that I am without you.

R

Contest Entry received and Another New Story - A Question of Courage

After the post I just made regarding my anxiety over ADIS being lost in the mail I almost immediately received this from WotF:


"This is to inform you that your story has been received and entered in the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest, quarter ending September 30th. Please allow 8 to 10 weeks after the quarter deadline for judging results to finalize. Good Luck! Judy, Contest Administrator"

So ADIS is really going to face the slap down on a national level this quarter. Hopefully it will represent itself with dignity win or lose, something I have yet to master myself.

Coming in at a little over 1300 words, my new tale, A Question of Courage, is yet another eccentric story of the un-epic. I am not sure I know what else to say about it, really. It came to me and I wrote it, or it tickled my fancy and I decided to scratch. In any case I cannot deny that it is there in its un-majestic way.

In other news, I find that I am liking some odd songs lately, ones that might in another age have bugged me. Lose Control by Evanescence is one, Eye by the Smashing Pumkins is another (however for SP there is no song better than Drown), and 37mm by AFI all have this rock/techno element that I know in past years I have probably railed against. Anyways, I recommend checking those tunes out if you get a chance.

R.

New Story - The Wasted Portion

Yesterday I finished a draft of a little tale I call The Wasted Portion, a 908 word story of horror on the Laughing Grass hopefully worthy of its Halloween morning conclusion. It won't scare anyone, not a single one, though the squeamish might feel thoroughly disturbed (and I'm talking mighty squeamish here, I think we can all agree that understatement is a major factor in my writing). It takes the good Captain back to his early days riding for the Prince.

Some thoughts that have come from a few sources of feedback - Suppose you have grabbed your scythe (it's that thing the Grim Reaper holds, related to the sickle if you didn't know) and headed out the door. You walk to this place where something is growing: wheat, grass, weeds, corn stalks, kudzu, or whatever (it doesn't even matter to me, just picture something vividly with your mind's eye). Now you take your scythe and send it through the growth causing stalks of whatever you have envisioned crashing down. You look up and your neighbor (who isn't really retarded, maybe he is just a salesman for the leading supplier of building material in the country) pulls up on his wagon, the bed of which shows not a single mar from carrying anything but him around in it. He says, "What is it that you are doing, _____?" You then reply, "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm ______."

I originally used the term "mowing" but felt some pushback from a reader on the matter. Technically the exact use of which I speak of was "recently mowed." I have changed that to "recently scythed." If you think that sounds lame, know that I do too. The reader complaint is that the term "mowed/mow/mowing" came after the lawn-mower and are not appropriate for the context. The great Willa Cather uses the term "mowing" to describe Emil (I'm pretty sure that is his name) taking his scythe to the grass at the family cemetery as "mowing" in Oh, Pioneers which was published in 1913 (I'm pretty sure). The first mechanical mowers were made in the mid-1800's and were usually horse-drawn in those days, which makes my argument using Cather a little weaker. I have not found a paper dictionary at this point, but if you look for the definition of "mow" online you get a dozen variations of "to cut with a blade or mower." So anyways . . . does anybody have a sure knowledge of what they called cutting crap down before the invention of the mower? I think the term "mow is older than the mower or it would have never been called a "mower" and the wheat and stuff that you cut down and stick in the barn wouldn't be called "mow." In the end, what do I know? I only write here.

In other news my grew very excited when I opened my mailbox today and there was an e-mail from WotF. Much to my dismay it was only a newsletter. I wrote them about a week ago to see if ADIS was lost in the mail (since I received a confirmation e-mail for TEC twelve days after the cut-off date). They wrote back and said they are still sorting, but I really want to know. Did ADIS make it or not? So that is my WotF update.

I think my recent burst of super-short stories (maybe incredibly short stories would be more accurate, since my first suggestion implies that they might have powers beyond that of a mortal short story) has to do with my schedule/available time situation and the fact that all the complaining I did about the Writing Center lowering the word count caused me to think of some really basic elements of my stories. They are somewhat liberating in that I can write about a snapshot in time that might take up too much room if I tried to stick it in another short story but that I would still enjoy exploring.

I have really gone on and on. I think this may be my longest post in quite a while. Anyways, thanks to all for your support, suggestions, and general love/friendship/encouragement.

R.

New Story - The Fork

Last week I pounded out a 765 word story--my shortest story ever. Today someone read it and asked why I wrote it. I told that person that the whim was upon me. Isn't that enough?

R.

Remembering the Metaphor

I've been reminded recently of the time, not long ago, when my story Two-Edged Choice was shot down like the Clanton Gang by that aforementioned scholastic publication. I like to tell myself that it was merely the word count (more than 200 words too long) that disqualified it from the beginning, and that it had nothing to do with the story or writing. Of course it could be that the judges were genre bigots.

R.

Two-Edged Choice Judging Results

Dear Entrant,
Thank you for entering the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest. Your entry did not place in the final selections for the 3rd quarter 2006 (April 1 - June 30, 2006).

We commend your effort and hope that you will submit another entry for the next quarter. The deadline is by postmark.

We wish you the best of luck on your next entry!

Sincerely,

Contest Administrator


So there you have it. I can't say that I am surprised--when I didn't hear anything after twelve weeks and judging is supposed to be done in eight to ten I knew the score. ADIS is a better story anyway, so here's to this quarter.

R.

Prose vs. Content

Well, the call for papers has been issued for the Writing Center Contest. The twinge of excitement I initially felt upon seeing the flyer died within me when I saw that they changed the maximum word count from 2,000 words last year to 1,250 this year. Why would they do such a thing? Who can write a story of substance in that few words? (A Very Short Story by Ernest Hemingway doesn't count, because he was a short story writing animal) So I wrote a metaphor of the contest, which that amazing group of friends and relatives that take the time to edit my stories has in their hands. It is my intention to submit it at exactly 1,250 words. Who's passive aggressive? Of course, my metaphor could stink, and I have never been known for my prose, so...

Also I finished a draft of Pluck This Jewel..., that long awaited finale to the Jeris Trilogy (It's not officially called the Jeris Trilogy. It's just a story cluster that includes Toll Man, The Traveler's Gift, and Pluck This Jewel...). I laughed, I cried, but since I was sitting in American Realism in Literature while I was doing it I had to be very quiet in my emotions. A classmate said, "I am amazed at the quantity and form of the notes you take in class." Yes, quantity and form are what I am all about. That's why Pluck This Jewel... will hurt like a case of the hemorrhoids and a sneezing fit. So there you have it.

R.

P.S. The new Evanescence is weird as 7734. I'm sure it will grow on me though, like a leech or a fungus.

In the Mail...

Well, the moment has come and A Day in the Sun is safely in the mail on its way to LA. I wanted to post that for them as that wanted a follow up on where ADIS is at in the world. I also wanted to take a moment to show some appreciation. I have no illusions of grandeur: Writers of the Future is a national contest that undoubtedly receives thousands of entries every quarter with no restrictions on age or education. That’s a lot of PhD wielding sci-fi slingers to face off against for the R. I do have hope though, because of the reaction of people, also with a variety of age, education, and interest levels, who have read the story. Their encouragement is invaluable. A lot of work went into ADIS, by myself and others who really took off their jackets, rolled up their sleeves, and tore into this story. I want to say thank you to those that have added their efforts to mine to make ADIS the best story it could be. I will not name you and throw your names out into cyberspace, but you know who you are. If I have been the husband, friend, and brother that I try to be then you know. But I would like to stand before you (even though I am actually hidden behind this shield of 0’s and 1’s) and give my appreciation for helping me to have this chance, slim though it may be. Thank you.

R.