Author: admin

first drafts

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I finished my first draft of The Mungk a few days ago.

It’s an outline, glorified and in extreme detail, which is what all good first drafts should be, in my opinion.

You can write character studies and scene settings and world build all you want. You can play connect-the-dots, map out plot matrixes and timelines and motivations and whatever, but at the end of the day, all you have is a blueprint. At some point, you have to start laying foundation and raising beams and running wires.

And unless you’re building something entirely formulaic, that never truly goes as planned, not in a work of art.

So, we write a first draft. And in the draft, our characters begin to tell us who they are, what direction they want to go. Motivations and reactions you didn’t expect rear their ugly heads. Plot holes you didn’t catch in the outline sideswipe you, throwing the whole thing off track.

It’s rather like birthing a child and living a life; you have a plan for it, but you can’t control other people or whatever circumstances the world likes to throw at us. You can’t break the laws of the universe, whatever that universe may be.

In the end, a first draft is nothing more than a prototype; a raw, unfinished thing with quirks and bugs and massive failures that need correction.

A outline/novel hybrid, bleeding, organs in places they shouldn’t be, begging to be put out of its misery, or repaired in mercy.

Target: 500 words
Written: 433 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: High Hunt, David Eddings
Comics: Y The Last Man 13-16
Music: Vans Presents: The General Strike EP, Anti-Flag

seeding

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I’m seeding herbs today, and it makes me think that maybe I’m seeding stories, little poems and things to grow my writing career.

However, like seeding, one needs the right fuel and the right ground, the soil, the nutrients, in order to sow the ground with something fertile enough to allow things to grow.

And I’m not a green thumb.

But I think that’s how I need to start thinking of my writing career. Create fertile ground. Find the right nutrients, the right level of sunlight, water as needed.

Pay close attention if the leaves are wilting.

Pray for little babies to push the soil.

Target: 500 words
Written: 818 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: High Hunt, David Eddings
Comics: Y The Last Man 9-12
Music: Vanishing Point, Mudhoney

some music

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Some music just moves you. I just finished writing and while James Brown and Night Train was cool, I definitely funked out more to Modest Mouse and Steam Engenius, because SO. FUCKING. GOOD.

My tastes range, and it’s fine. I don’t mind following up Minor Threat with Rihanna or Dean Martin with Henry Rollins. There’s nothing wrong with an Eminem and Beatles mix, or Pink Floyd and NOFX.

It’s all about being open, and enjoying the moment. Falling into it and letting it happen, letting it be what it is and letting go of whatever else is happening.

Music is the most powerful presence creator; there’s a reason we love it in all its forms. It speaks to something primal within us that just wants to live. Here, now, forever in the groove, connecting and commiserating with our fellow humanity, free from all the rest of the world’s shit.

Target: 500 words
Written: 209 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: High Hunt, David Eddings
Comics: Y The Last Man 5-8
Music: The Vanilla Tapes, The Clash

censored?

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Well, this is a first. I wish I could say it was unexpected, but I knew Get Back Again straddled a line I wasn’t sure I hadn’t crossed.

I mean, it’s a story told from the perspective of a right winger who has been murdered by his liberal girlfriend. I mean, I thought it was clear that the right winger was the bad guy, but I knew that to tell it properly, I would have to hew more tightly to the man’s anger and prejudice than I would normally be comfortable with. I actually made notes to myself during the revision hoping that it would be taken as it was meant, and not become some kind of right wing manifesto.

Wattpad’s a pretty liberal place, which is part of the reason I like it, even though most of the literature posted there isn’t exactly my jam. I mostly followed Cory Doctorow there. If he thought it had value, it must not have been terrible, because you know… Doctorow. He doesn’t suffer tech companies lightly.

Of course, left-leaning places such as Wattpad also mean the kind of people whose outrage tends to not think before it blasts nuclear waste out into the atmosphere.

(And don’t get me wrong, the right is pregnant to bursting with outrage, only they don’t realize that they’re not actually pregnant, just morbidly obese with self-inflicted unhealth).

It appears that’s happened to me.

Either that or Get Back Again wasn’t as clear as I hoped (and I know it was opaque).

So, yeah. I’m anti-censorship for any reason. It’s one thing to know something is immoral and not want to read it; it’s another thing to say to everyone else that reading it is bad. Things can be learned even from things you vehemently disagree with.

If they allow it back, I guess we’ll have to put a disclaimer on it. Trigger warning and a brief explanation: hey, the racist, homophobic misogynist threatening violence against women and minorities?

He’s a baddie.

Duh.

Target: 500 words
Written: 203 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: High Hunt, David Eddings
Comics: Y The Last Man 1-4
Music: Vangelis: Delectus, Vangelis (you know what's weird... the Chariots of Fire riff that we're all familiar with barely actually happens in the song, and certainly not the way you remember it from the movie. That's kind of messed up.)

t-swift

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I’ll admit: the girl can put on a production.

My niece made me watch the concert with her and I have to admit, that while I prefer music that’s not so overproduced, I was surprised by the sheer volume of hits the girl’s had, and the impressive stage show.

I mean, not teenage girl with tears streaming down her face impressed, but hey, I’m not the target audience.

Still. Good for you, girl. Way to do it without being completely vapid.

Smart cookie, that Taylor.

Target: 500 words
Written: 278 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Dead Until Dark, Charlaine Harris
Comics: Rat Queens v2 24-25, Rat Queens: Sisters, Warriors, Queens 1
Music: Van Weezer, Weezer (just to show how iconically uncool I am from yesterday)

no longer cool

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It appears I’m not cool anymore. I mean, I was never really cool, but at least, I knew where the edges were, where the hip things were happening, even if I didn’t give a shit about them.

Now, I don’t care, more interested in exploring the expansive stuff of whatever scene I missed out on by virtue of era, location or the fact that I wasn’t cool enough to be invited in.

Or didn’t care enough to join.

Trends, fashion, these sorts of things never interested me. While a million morons rushed out to buy Stanley cups, all I could think is it’s not THE Stanley Cup, so who gives a shit?

Trends come and go so fast now online that the only way to stay on the bleeding edge of popularity is to spend all one’s time online, which is boring.

Plus, who cares? Spending time and money on shit that no one will give a fuck about tomorrow is just a good way to create clutter and miss out on time one could have spent actually enjoying one’s life.

It’s nothing more than a hyperspeed version of keeping up with the Joneses.

Fuck the Joneses. Who the fuck are they to set the standard?

Who are they to tell you what’s interesting or important in your life?

That’s the great thing about a real scene, real art, real cool – it remains that way no matter the age because it speaks to something fundamental inside us.

Cool is timeless; iconic is not just every random little thing; it’s the truly epic, the truly transcendent and emblematic. It’s crossing the bridge in Selma, it’s the Gettysburg Address. It’s the Velvet Underground. It’s Freddie Mercury at Live Aid. It’s Marilyn Monroe. It’s Caesar crossing the Rubicon. It’s Gretzky kicking his foot out as he lifts the Cup.

It’s real fucking Stanley, not some bullshit fad.

Stop using it for every little thing. It ain’t iconic if it’s old news tomorrow. Iconic is a state of being that speaks for itself, not a label for something you’ve been told is cool.

Target: 500 words
Written: 509 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Dead Until Dark, Charlaine Harris
Comics: Rat Queens v2 20-23
Music: V, Live

targets

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I should explain about the targets thing. I’m very much a proponent of starting small and building to bigger, in order to increase tolerance and get oneself used to increasingly hard and more intensive levels of work (like exercise – if you don’t exercise every day, trying to run a marathon right off the hop isn’t going to work; you won’t be able to crack out two hundred push-ups right off the bat. Maybe start with 5, or a minute on a treadmill).

As you get used to it, and at the lower levels, it doesn’t take long, you gain stamina, and your ability to do more gets easier. Brain work is no different.

However, I know a lot of days it looks like I’m not meeting what are fairly meager targets, but there’s a running total that I’ve more than doubled, so in the interest of reminding myself this is a marathon, not a sprint, if I’m over the total target to start, the goal becomes: do one thing. Doesn’t matter how much it is, whether it’s a hundred words or a thousand, just to ensure you remain in the habit of doing something daily.

As the targets grow, that buffer will likely disappear and I’ll get more done, but having ingrained the habit and built up tolerance, that should be less of an issue.

So yeah, I don’t meet the daily target a lot of the time, but I’m blowing the total target out of the water, and that’s the one that matters.

Target: 500 words
Written: 222 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Dead Until Dark, Charlaine Harris
Comics: Rat Queens v2 16-19
Music: A voicemail from Kurt Cobain

easter sunday

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And so, He is Risen.

And by he, I mean the turkey I’m about to bake (that’s right, motherfuckers. Turkey on Easter – you don’t own me).

Also, I’m not entirely certain of the turkey’s gender. If I’ve misgendered you, gentle gobbler, I apologize.

Of course, we’re still searching for the giblets. I’m not sure why these turkeys we get seem to hide the giblets, but mostly, I just like saying the world giblets. It always feels like should involve the word tickling.

Tickling Giblets – the quintessential tier 3 Nineties alternative band.

Or, the start of a very enjoyable evening.

You know, whatever works.

Target: 500 words
Written: 226 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Dead Until Dark, Charlaine Harris
Comics: Rat Queens v2 13-15, Rat Queens: Swamp Romp 1
Music: KUCI Ska Parade, Sublime

good friday

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I’m not a Christian, because, well, religion is mostly bullshit. I don’t necessarily discount the idea of divinity or spirituality, but I always think of it like this:

If this being/entity/force/thing is omnipotent, all-encompassing and all-powerful (pervasive), then our ability to understand it is probably on par with an amoeba’s ability to comprehend particle physics.

Times a billion.

So anyone on earth claiming to know the mind of God, or whatever you want to call it, is utterly and completely full of shit. They are trying to either take your money or control your mind, or likely, both.

Let’s keep in mind that the primary drivers in many of the most horrific acts of humanity are rooted in religion.

As I think maybe Penn Gillette said (or at least, my recollection is that I heard him make the sentiment), a person is not a good person because they are doing what they are told.

They are a good person because they choose to do good things, and that has nothing to do with gods.

So, be good on this Friday, and all Fridays, because you’re choosing to do so, not because you’re scared of some boogeyman in the sky, or the afterlife, or whatever.

I guarantee the upper moral hand belongs with those who choose kindness, not those who have it foisted upon them.

Target: 500 words
Written: 595 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Gregor The Overland, Suzanne Collins
Comics: Rat Queens v2 10-12, Rat Queens: Neon Static 1
Music: KROQ Weenie Roast, Sublime

tegan and sara, part deux

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You know what? For only knowing a handful of songs, it was a pretty good show. They played well, good songs and the stage patter… well, I’m not sure if they were ever stand-up comics in their lives, but they do a hell of an impression. I’m not used to my rock stars being so quick-witted.

Plus, it’s nice to see a community coming together. I’m not gay myself, but I’d wager a large portion of the county’s local lesbian population was at the concert, singing and being generally nice to each other, save a pair of dental assistant twins who were screaming so obnoxiously that even the band told them to shut the fuck up.

Seriously. How obnoxious must you be where your screaming at a rock concert is a little too much, for everyone, including the band?

Anyway, despite that, it was a good feel, lots of love and probably complicated feelings about love lives and things going around. At least no one got married, but the fervor that people rushing the stage to donate money for guitar picks and set lists (going to charity), damn. I’ve never been that stoked over anything but the middle of great sex with a very hot woman (my wife, for the record).

Anyway, long story short. Good time. Worth the trip.

Target: 500 words
Written: 1741 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Gregor The Overlander, Suzanne Collins
Comics: Rat Queens v2 6-9
Music: KooKoo, Debbie Harry