Category: canon

final stretch

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I’m aiming for a Christmas deadline (preferably before, because Christmas and Christmas Eve are fucking no gos for any amount of editing), but man, how many different way can one describe a mangled dog corpse?

It feels like one’s too many.

Doesn’t it?

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1585 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Complete Poetical Works, Edgar Allan Poe (Raven and Conqueror Worm are still great, but man, I wanted the rest to be so much better)
Comics: Fables 32-35
Music: January 20, 1990 - Tacoma, USA, Nirvana

the rundown

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Multiple meanings for that these days, as you’ll eventually see.

If there’s ever a movie written of my life, it’s going to be a lot of stuttering and masturbation, followed by a slow, tortuous breakdown in front of a computer.

I know it was a shittier time, but past generations had such grand adventures; our life is so regimented now.

You must do this. You must do that.

There’s no time for peace. No time for quiet.

Where’s my goddamned quiet at?

No, I run, and run, and run, it all just runs me down.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1823 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Prozac Nation, Elizabeth Wurtzel (I was excited to read this, thinking I might comiserate, but this is far less a description of depression, but rather narcissism using depression as its party mask.  There's a point where she reaches true depression, I think, and there's a perfect description of it, which made me think, okay, finally, she understands, but then she does it all away with a drug, then spends the rest of the book bemoaning the fact that she did it before it was cool, like some pretentious alt-rock kid pissed off the little indie band they liked signed a deal with a major label.  This book?  Five percent depression, the rest about a real as the proverbial cut my wrist width-wise instead of lengthwise cry for attention.  Disappointing.)
Comics: Fables 20-23
Music: World Container, The Tragically Hip

still crashing out

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I know this is because I’ve got myself under a ton of pressure to finish this book before Christmas.

Literally. I’ve set the date as December 23rd.

Finished by that date, so I can sit back with a cigar and a whiskey and fucking kick some goddamned ass.

Then to lighten things up for a bit with some poetry, more short stories and comics, maybe a hip little ditty or three.

Then, maybe, by the time March rolls around, I’ll be ready for canon project #3.

And maybe I’ll head back to historical.

Paranormal.

Lovecraft country, baby. I am the man of a thousand ideas; and a thousand more I will never have time to complete.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1483 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Prozac Nation, Elizabeth Wurtzel
Comics: Fables 16-19
Music: Working Undercover For The Man, They Might Be Giants

well how about that

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I’m still writing about feces and doormats.

Steinbeck wrote about the Great Depression. Fitzgerald about the vapidity of the rich.

Shakespeare wrote of love and loss and tragedy, of empire and family.

And I’m writing about feces on a doormat.

Perhaps I’m not really cut out for this whole literary genius thing. I’m the Meatballs of the Great Canadian Novel. This generation’s A Clockwork Orange is actually a rendition of Porky’s, by way of American Pie.

Porky’s did bring us Kim Cattrall, however, and that’s a fucking gift.

Screw Sarah Jessica Parker. I never liked her anyway.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 2321 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Never-Ending Present, Michael Barclay (and now I'm crying, damn it)
Comics: Fables 1-4 (finally, something good)
Music: Workbook, Bob Mould

icons i won’t be

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I used to want to be William Gibson or George Orwell or J.R.R. Tolkien. Even in my modern days, I idolize Doris Lessing, Andrzej Sapkowski and Thomas Wolfe.

I doubt any of them ever had to write a scene where a fat boor took a messy dump on someone’s front stoop.

Perhaps I should set my sights lower.

Like, MAD magazine or National Lampoon lower.

I’d love to be e.e. cummings or Gord Downie. I’d love to write with the sensitivity of Alan Moore or the abstraction of Kelly Sue Deconnick. Kafka, Chekhov, Palahniuk.

And I’m writing about a fat guy’s feces.

Maybe someday, I could reach even Second City.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1488 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Never-Ending Present, Michael Barclay
Comics: Youngblood v7 #1 (oh dear god, another reboot, with a storytelling style that's no better than it was in the first Youngblood miniseries.  Give up, man.  This shit ain't working.)
Music: Woody Guthrie Essentials, Woody Guthrie (how apropos is Lindbergh?)

it’s nice to be reminded

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Of just how bad you are at art.

How on another plane artists like Gord Downie, Lou Reed, Patti Smith and Leonard Cohen are.

How other people understand that.

How you’re a fucking peon and a boor, a shitpile no-talent with no future and no gravitas.

But hey, I wrote a book about the monster under the bed, and a guy getting humped by a dog, so there’s that.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 687 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Never-Ending Present, Michael Barclay
Comics: Bloodstrike v2 2, Youngblood v6 1-3
Music: Without A Sound, Dinosaur Jr.

nailed it, bro

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I think I’m doing a good job of editing. Previous edits kind of suck, but my new notes are hitting the right notes, there’s less tangents and things are speeding off to the side or getting half-assed, with this better plan in place.

Hopefully, that means I can still hit my target of Christmas. I’ll guarantee there’s at least one to two more drafts in it, but they should be mostly minor tweaks, technically, picky shit about punctuation and grammar, and not the kind of hours long rewrites (and holy shit, what a plot hole moments) that some of these other drafts have required.

Pray for me.

I might actually do this.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1649 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Never-Ending Present, Michael Barclay (starting to feel like the never ending book)
Comics: Bloodstrike 31-33, Youngblood v5 75
Music: [With_Teeth], Nine Inch Nails

the things that come up

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You know, it’s really tough to write a scene-ending line about the possibility of a prostate massage.

Technically, an objection to it, a total horrifying of the moral senses.

(Except, you know, get your prostate checked. That shit’s important, fellas, both in a medical sense, and a what’s good for the goose sense.)

Polyps is no joke, kids.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1483 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Picture Of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde (prostates, you say?)
Comics: Brigade v3 1, Youngblood Bloodsport 1, Youngblood Genesis 1-2
Music: Wind It Up (Rewound), The Prodigy

a particularly difficult scene

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I don’t like guns. They’re everyone in movies, television and books, but they have never been a part of my life.

I’ve never fired one. Never even held one.

I haven’t been around one when it went off.

So, it’s hard for me to write about what the effects of such a thing are, how one reacts and all that, when one actually does. Unfortunately, it’s a crucial addition to this book. A late addition, but to really capture the zeitgeist of what it means to be a MAGA archetype, well, you need guns.

Second Amendment bollocks, really.

How fucking dumb are you people? You know if you get rid of the guns, then no one can get shot, right?

Of course, unless you’re an asshole who wants to shoot somebody, which I believe you all are, whether you admit it outwardly or not.

Fuckin’ stupid, man.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 2713 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Quiet: The Power Of Introverts, Susan Cain
Comics: Spider-Man/Badrock 2, Chapel v3 1, Judgment Day: Alpha 1, Judgment Day: Omega 1
Music: Only The Strong Survive, Bruce Springsteen

big changes, slipped hood

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At least, that’s what this scene is screaming at me.

Why is everyone so calm, including the protagonist?

There are bad things happening, terrifying, awful, annoying, dangerous things.

You have my permission to freak out.

I am.

(Also, yay to Democrat gains in the elections; now, we pray there are enough of us to overcome the rigging, or that he doesn’t suspend elections altogether.)

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1340 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Quiet: The Power Of Introverts, Susan Cain (it's me!)
Comics: Shattered Image 3-4, Youngblood v2 14, Spider-Man/Badrock 1
Music: The Wild, The Innocent, And The E Street Shuffle, Bruce Springsteen