Saturday is just like Sunday

Well, I'm still up so this is still Saturday. Yeah, yeah, yeah, clocks, international date line, meridian, I don't buy it. It's Saturday damn it.

We blasted through all the critiques today, so tomorrow is going to be a light schedule. Out for brunch, packing and cleaning, making our good-byes, and driving like a madman back to Ohio. At least the trip back should go a little faster as I won't be stuck in rush hour traffic being rerouted off the main highway. Yeah, that was fun.

It was a good group and we the comments were all good, or so it seemed. Everybody seemed to appreciate the feedback, the new perspective on their novels. Good discussions followed. And then good food.

Time for bed, and then tomorrow, we feast! Or something like that. Yeah, I'm tired.

Day of Knives

So today was the critiquing day for my novel, and I was first up. Wee! It went well, there were good comments, and a lot of things came up that will definitely help and it clarified some choices I was making (and will reverse some of the ones I already made). Not really anything big that would derail me. I'm really happy about that. Of course I haven't read the notes, yet. I have two more to give critiques on tomorrow.

Later in the day I worked on the short story, Shadows of Raas Xaafuun. Now I need to go back and reread The Shadow Over Innsmouth to get the timing down. I think the Deep Ones come on the full moon, but there's some niggling thought that it was the new moon. Dang it. And today a kid said, "Dagon akbar" while handing our main character a bundle of khat. I've been going back and forth with "that's so cool" and "that's going to get me into trouble." For right now I'm keeping it. After all, in the Cthulhu universe, there are no gods, only aliens that appear to us as gods. And in some other stories I'm using the mythos as a solid wall to throw the characters' modern religions at to watch them splat. I'm an equal opportunity offender.

I also realized that I haven't put together all that much of the novel since I submitted it to the group. I've written about three more chapters, but there in different stages and I haven't "tied them in officially." And I don't have all the pieces with me (two pieces are on my other USB thumbdrive).

Tonight we played Cranium as a group. Not to tout my own horn here, but Mer and I lead out of the gate, fell behind, recovered and kicked some butt to win the game. Don't ever have us do the humming clues, just a hint. There were also a lot more club cranium clues this time than I remember other times playing this game. So with the win, and the smell of 'smores lingering in the air, it's time for bed.

Week of Rejection

Oh, keep forgetting to mention, this week saw three rejections for Rag-a-bag, A History of Lightning, and Prince Wanted. I think with form, semi-form, and mostly not form letters respectively. Although some of these markets are the first time I submitted to them (at least in the form I submitted), so I might be wrong.

I can't do much right now, without my notes. And I was a lazy slacker and didn't do a search when I was home. So next week will start with new submissions.

Alive, and in Michigan

Here we are, just in time for the midgies. The ride extended longer than it should have, with the closing of I-94. Fortunately it was closed right at the exit I needed, but sadly that meant traffic was backed up for miles. Joy.

So, we're back from dinner, where I spilled on my shirt. Sigh. And now I'm procrastinating before I get back into critiquing stuff. I have 60 more pages to go through. Hint to other writers, if you have stuff to critique, start as soon as possible.

Tomorrow starts the slinging critiquing of each others work. After we clean up the blood finish, it's time to get back into the writing. There's the novel and the short story waiting. I'm still really psyched about both.

But now I have to say goodbye to the broadband (Broadband!) and get back to work.

Expect sporadic blogging to continue through the weekend, to resume normal posting by next week.

Question of the Ages

So, do you eat your pop-tarts raw, toastie, or burnt offering?

Tried something different this morning and went to burnt offering. Mmmm, carbon-ie.

So you're back, from outer-space

Not yet. Still busy, busy Steve. But I'm alive and hope you are too.

Since it's a topic near and dear to my heart, health care is back in the news with various events this week. Expect the usual blathering "Need to Change vs. OMG Socialized Medicine NO!" Keep a weathered eye out on happenings. Already it's been interesting with some of the HC Industry promising $1 billion in cuts to costs every year for the next 10 years so we keep things exactly the way they are now. Can you say "panic bribe"? I knew you could. Look, the HC industry makes the Energy industry look like punters. It's time to break their strangle hold on the economy.

Two novels down, midway through a third, one more to get to by Thursday. Meetings on Monday, Tuesday (and probably Wednesday). Also juggling home stuff.

Hey, I mowed my lawn this weekend so the Dandelions no longer are requesting fiscal aid. Cut those bastards to the ground I did. Need to shake up sentence structure have I a great need for now (ha! Diagram that puppy!).

Well, time to take a breath and dive back in.

Are you pondering what I'm pondering?

"Holy crap, it's almost Memorial Day and we haven't started raising gas prices! What were we thinking?!"

Do you also get the feeling that conversation took place in several boardrooms this week?

We're all headless robots here

Sometimes it just feels that way. Forget the bozos on the bus. That, at least, sound exciting.

There's more work than there is time, including the fun and wonderful extras. I wonder when I'll get approved overtime in the new position? Should be soon.

So tonight is getting new oil in the car (Oil can! Oil can!), writing reports, and continual critiquing. I'm getting the hang (somewhat) of not bleeding red on every paragraph on the page. Maybe there's a 12-step program somewhere just for me. "Hi, I'm Steve. I go through red pens like candy when I critique and edit. I accept there are editors greater than I. I must let go and let them direct me." Or something like that.

The Seldom Sighted Steve

Sorry to have been so scarce of late. Way too much to do in real life. I am far behind in critiquing. The current book is going much slower than I expected, and I expect the next one to be slower. Sigh.

A question for all you writers out there. With these critiques I've noticed I tend to write more on the manuscripts than other people do. I could probably go faster if I didn't make marks in every paragraph. So what would you like in a critique, an in-depth analysis offering word and rewrite suggestions, or a 50,000 foot view pointing out the major issues in a manuscript? Red ink spilled over the page, or a set of notes at the end?

I think if I could switch to the 50,000 foot view type, I could get through these much faster. I have noticed that as I go along in a novel critique the farther in I go the fewer marks I make. Now if I could just disengage the writer brain that keeps saying, "oo, oo, this would be so much better here."

Rumor has it it's the end of paradise

Yesterday was spent doing family things. Specifically going to see my niece in her Senior Spectacular, which is a performance of high school seniors, mostly from the choirs. And let me say here, Skippy, you were fantastic. I really wish we could have seen more of your concerts an dI wish you the best where you're going. You've allowed an uncle to be very proud of you. And I think I said this once, but let me say it again, you really get performance. And that's a rare gift.

So, today I'm going to discuss performing. I have some experience here. Since I was in grade school I've performed in plays, written plays (for both church and for high school, and have been selected for performances), played in bands (concert, marching, stage, and a garage band or two) and performed guitar as a busker and on stage for my own high school's talent shows. I've given readings, reports, was a certified organizational change management leader (at E&Y, don't ask). I'm trying to be a successful writer. I've been in front of microphones, tv cameras, given personal interviews to reports, lead mobs, and written this blog for how many years.

All of those are performances, btw. Some of them you might not think of as performing, like blogging, but really it is. At a convention a few years ago, I signed up for a breakfast with John Scalzi where he held court with about eight of us on several topics, one of which was blogging. As John said (and to paraphrase here), "I'm always surprised at the people who think they know me (and Krissy and Athena) because they read my blog. The blog is only what I choose to show the world, so nobody sees the times Athena is being a normal 10 year old, or Krissy and I have a problem. So people get a distorted view of my life." We then had a more indepth discussion of what successful blogging is. And just to be clear here, it always means telling the truth about yourself. It also means you don't have to share what you don't want to share. And so, blogging is a performance art. Just like public speaking.

So here is something you probably don't know about me. I'm introverted. Not as deeply as some friends I know, but it's still there. Another author (who will remain nameless here, but I've mentioned him before) I had the fortune to see at a conference "putting on his game face." Afterward I talked with him and mentioned I noticed him doing that. He's also an introvert. We shared a moment of connection as I told him I recognized the action because I do that myself.

This doesn't mean we're being false. But it's a recognition that we're about to perform. And now I'll get to what that means.

To dispel some myths. The people you see performing are rarely the best at what they do. Performance is hard work, no matter what the movie/recording industry wants to portray about "talent." As John Lennon RIngo Starr shouted on Abbey Road The White Album, "I've got blisters on my fingers!" Most people who perform are doing things they love to do. And when you love doing something you do it if somebody's watching and you do it when nobody is watching. And you do it until you get blisters. And then you keep doing it. Nobody just walks up on stage and performs like they're a star. Everybody who has karaoked has sung in the car to the same song. See how good they do up on a stage? The woman from England who took everybody by surprise? Yeah, she belonged to a choir and I'll bet she practices singing as she walks around her house (or flat). And she does it because she loves it. Also, for those people who are out there performing in clubs and bars, they know they've all met people better than they are. People who don't perform anymore. Perseverance is the name of the game.

And when those people are performing, they aren't doing it for themselves. At least the good ones aren't. Performing is about giving. Giving to the audience, the other members of the troop, to the art, to someone who may not even be there. As Stephen King says in On Writing, most authors are telling someone their stories when they write. For him, it's his wife. He's trying to impress her and make her laugh (and yes, his stuff is funny). That's his goal. He tells the story about an author he knows who is writing to someone whose been dead for many years. Performance is all about the people you're performing for. If all you're doing is going up on stage and reciting a song, well, that's a form of mental masturbation. Artist who are all about themselves rarely make it far, and their self-indulgence comes through their performance and leaves most people wondering just what the heck is going on and the performance goes flatter than three-day old beer. But those who go up there and give it all away, those are the artists you remember. I should state here that performers are (mostly) consummate liars. If you ask them, many times you'll get the "All about me" answer. Watch them on stage, though, and you can practically see the energy flowing into the audience. And if it's done right, the energy flows back.

And we do it because we love our audience and we love what we're doing. When Jackson Browne sings, "So just make sure you got it all set to go before you come for my piano," that's what he's talking about. You've all come out to see us. In some cases you've paid good money to do so, given of your time and energy. To give ourselves to you is the least we can do.

It takes a lot out of you if you do it right. That's the whole satiric point of Dire Straits' "Money for Nothing." If you've ever seen musicians after a show, they look rung-out. Because they are. Not only were they playing the songs, they gave of themselves to their band and projected that out to the audience.

So that's the secret of performance. It's not about the talent, the skill, and the ability. It's about love. It's about giving it all away and hoping it comes back. It's about not worrying about saving something up for another night, because it doesn't work that way. Pour yourself out into what you're doing, give it all to one person or to twenty-thousand screaming people. It'll come back. It'll make the hair on your neck tingle to touch that live wire. And do it because you love something, someone, someplace.

And yes, I do this because I love you. Stop looking at me like that, you know what I mean. :)

Edited 05-04-09 With the help of Todd, who set me straight (apparently there's some doubt that it was Ringo, but he's the one who claimed it, and I got the album wrong).

Story Bone

Causality loops in time traveling stories all have the loop being closed in the past (causing the "You can't kill your Grandfather" problems), close one in the future (go forward to kill your grandchild).

And then there's the whole, "We can't pollute the time streams" mantra and meme. Screw 'em. I have a short story in progress (might turn it into a short short now, maybe 2000 words, I haven't worked on it in years though) where I deal with this in both directions (how going back in time won't pollute the time stream and create a "Sound of Thunder" like story plus going forward to create a new and better future, and it involves a whole bunch o' hand-waving stuff to make it work that I won't get into here - temporal-calculus, that's your only hint). Now, most stories (and I believe these are cliche by now, so don't do them) involve going back to stop some horrible problem of the past, like killing Hitler (although one story, I forget the name, does it a little better by rendering the Brown-shirt movement powerless by convincing the HIndenburg Government to take it seriously and keep them tamped down). I want you to really pollute the stream. How would you re-engineer the past?

And here you want to think fully. See, killing Hitler wouldn't change much. However, polluting the stream right at the end of WWI could destroy any chance of the Nazi and Fascism elements gaining power, or even thinking up those forms of government. See, to kill Hitler, don't assassinate him, kill Hitler's grandfather. Burn that line to the ground and then plow under the ashes. Don't poison the cup, poison the whole well.

Story Bone

"Reality doesn't need your belief to keep functioning. That's why religions aren't based in reality."

As a response to the cry I'm sure you're all hearing, "I can't believe it's May already."