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Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Late Night Snacking

This morning my father informed me that the neighbor’s dog managed to bull its way into the chicken pen and summarily slaughter every one of poor creatures. I wouldn’t go so far as to refer to the chickens as “my parent’s beloved chickens,” but I would say that the situation borders on tragic. My stepmother lamented the fact that the chickens not only provided tasty eggs, kept the insects down, and caused snakes to give the place a wide birth, but they were also kind of nice to just have around. In fact they’d been around for years.

A few weeks earlier, a couple of the chickens had been mauled to death by the same dog and Dad had visited the owners of the beast to inform them of its criminal behavior. Actually, in all reality, the dog was just doing what dogs do, the human half of the equation being the actual criminal element. The response that Dad received was primarily one of indifference.

I think this conversation with my parents is what has caused me to not be able to sleep. Initially, I went to bed early and settled down with a book. Feeling restless I got up, went down stairs and pilfered the refrigerator looking for something, but not knowing what. I settled for a strawberry yogurt and a handful of cashews. I then went back up to bed and pulled out some of my stories with a plan of doing some editing and notating problem areas. Nothing like reading my own stuff to put me in that slumberous mode. But even that didn’t seem to help, so an hour later I came back down and resorted to food once again. My choices were somewhat limited: left over Chinese food from last night, or breaded baked tilapia. Since I had already worked on the shrimp fried rice earlier this evening, I settled for the tilapia. I briefly thought of preparing some tea, but then pushed that out of my mind.

After the murderous rampage inflicted upon the chickens that left not a single one alive, my dad kept one of the poor deceased birds to use for bait. He put it in the now vacant chicken coop the night before last and lay in wait with shotgun in hand. Keep in mind that the old man is in his seventies and an all-nighter in March in Central Idaho is a cold proposition. Anyway, the killer dog—a large breed mix of some type—paid a visit at around 4:30 am, entered the coop for the dead chicken and made its exit. He didn’t get too far, but I’ll spare you the bloody details. One of the reasons that this is upsetting for me is that I know that Dad hated killing that dog for what is essentially the recalcitrance of the dog’s owners. My dad cared more about that dog than its owners, and he is the one that ended up having to shoot it.

Looking at the empty plate that once held the baked tilapia, I’m wishing for something else to eat that I can’t quite put my thumb on. I think it wise that I settle for a glass of water and go back to bed. Perhaps I’ll give the editing another try.

Friday, March 09, 2007

It Strikes Me

To spend most of a day scouring search engines using your name (both of them) and web site as a search phrase and then coming back to a post dozens of times over the past two days to see if anything more has been commented upon strikes me as a bit obsessive.

Perhaps it’s time to give it a rest and move on?

I’m just saying.

As Banal As Love

Last night Jim Harrison revealed that Salt Lake City’s stop on his book tour was one of three planned and that this would be his last junket to promote a book. He seemed a bit frail to me in some respects and I felt it a privilege to be there watching a man who I consider to be an American national literary treasure. He read some passages from his newest book along with a couple of poems. It was quite a pleasure, really.

At one point he made mention of human geography, the study of the spatial distribution of human activity on the Earth’s surface. Paraphrasing, he said that the reasons of human distribution could range from economics to something as banal as love.

This was amusing to me. Those of you who know me well would understand. 

Thursday, March 08, 2007

And Speaking Of Jim Harrison

I’ve read all of his works with the exception of The Summer He Didn’t Die, and Returning To Earth. Also, I haven’t read any of his poetry, but I’m talking novels and novellas. I think the collections in The Woman Lit By fireflies and Legends Of The Fall are my favorites.

I know that novellas seem to be anathema in the publishing world, but in many ways I prefer them to larger works. With our busy schedules and busy lives, the novella is a bite-sized chunk of literary goodness that one can read in a couple of sittings--lunch hours or bus rides. Jim Harrison is the master of the novella.

I’m just saying. 

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Jim Harrison In The House

Well, sort of. He will be at a local book store tomorrow to do a reading and signing of his new book. Thanks, Justin, for the tip. Jim Harrison is one of my favorite authors and I’m going to be there for certain to witness the one-eyed madman personally.

Friday, March 02, 2007

Sci-Fi And The Post Apocalypse

I like some science fiction, but I’m not what you would call a huge fan. I’m very particular about the science fiction that I read. I’m not particularly fond of the space faring variety, with aliens and colonial empires spread throughout the galaxy, warp drive, and what-not. I can’t explain it, but for the most part I just can’t get into it.

Of the science fiction books that I do find myself being attracted to, they are mostly post apocalyptic/ apocalyptic. Things like Lucifer’s Hammer, The Rift, and the stunning Earth Abides. I suppose the pattern here is stories of survival during great change and upheaval. For me, humanity struggling to survive is the ultimate drama and always makes for a good story. Plus, these types of stories seem quite plausible, perhaps even probable. I’m more able to wrap my head around them because of this; at least much more than I am concerning stories about colonial galactic empires and bars full of aliens. 

Notice that I didn’t include The Stand in my examples of apocalyptic stories. It’s because I didn’t really care for it. I know, all of you Stephen King fans are falling out of your chairs right now. I did enjoy the story up until the mystical, good vs evil aspect was introduced. It was at that point that it faltered for me.

I will admit some hypocrisy here because I do find alien invasion stories of an apocalyptic nature quite entertaining. For example, Footfall I believe is a great story. Keep in mind that the aliens that invade took thousands of years to get here because they didn’t have a warp drive switch to throw and they were still firmly grounded in the laws of physics as they are understood presently. Also, in this story, it all goes back to the human drama.

I’ve noticed that often times, the theme of post apocalyptic stories are about attempting to rebuild civilization. In Earth Abides, that is the protagonists main drive although ultimately he settles for something less. That theme is present in Eternity Road as well with humanity trying to rediscover the secrets of the Ancients (we being the Ancients).  That theme is revisited in the Deathlands series of books as well only with a super dose of testosterone (as far as I can tell from only reading the first book of the series).

One of the best post apocalyptic books to visit the rebuilding civilization theme is The Postman. The book is great, but by all means avoid the film version of it. For what Kevin Costner did to that book, he should have been taken out back behind the woodshed.

One of my very favorite books of the post apocalyptic genre does not contain characters who are trying to rebuild what once was. In Through Darkest America we see an America several hundred years after an unnamed apocalypse that doesn’t give two cents about what was. This is a world transformed and beating its own path, no matter how disturbing and dark that past may be. This book is amazingly epic in scale at only 256 pages. Why some Hollywood type hasn’t made this book into a mini-series for HBO or Show Time is beyond me.

Friday, January 26, 2007

Sundance Subversive And West Coast Dreaming

This last weekend, Anna and I went to the Sundance Film Festival with Justin and his wife Julee. I kicked myself for failing to remember to bring my camera. Believe me, there are a lot of reasons to bring a camera to Sundance. I suppose I should qualify “Sundance Film Festival” with the fact that we didn’t go see any films, but rather, we went to Park City and traipsed around. Perhaps the most entertaining aspect of Park City during Sundance is the people watching, hence the need to take a camera.

Also, I know that Justin was armed and prepared to commit subversive acts, but I don’t think he got around to it. It may have been a waste of time, but looking back on it, I wish we would’ve made a way to make it happen. Anyway, I’m thinking that while wandering up the West Coast this July there will be plenty of opportunities for subversive activity. 

Don’t you think?

Friday, January 19, 2007

Sundance Dreaming

My wife and I have managed to make to the Sundance Film Festival every year for the past five years or so. This year will be no exception and, as usual, I’m very much looking forward to it. We’ll meet at my house, Justin?

Friday, January 05, 2007

Genre Identity Crisis

It’s been some time since I last posted here. You know, the Holidays and such. Although I’ve not posted here, I have still been writing my guts out. I finished two short stories and I’ve also been opening up some old screenplays as well.

Looking over some of the stories I have been working on, I have attempted to find some kind of pattern concerning genre. I simply cannot find it. I’m jumping all over the place. One story is a western (try finding a market for that), one is a contemporary—for lack of a better word—literary piece, and another idea I have been kicking around is a small murder-mystery.

As far as screenplays are concerned, I have a post apocalyptic/plague (plawg for some of us) story, a 1920’s era western, and a contemporary small town drama.

The only consistent factor in all of these stories is that they all contain strong women. For some reason, strong women always find themselves in my stories, even if they are not the main protagonist. I suppose I would have to dig somewhere deep into my personal psyche to figure that one out. I’d rather not.

I started writing this one piece as a sort of screenwriting exercise in pacing and character development and I found myself really getting to like this character. She’s a gun-toting, scrappy, loan survivor in a world decimated by a plague—plawg? (inside joke) that has wiped out most of humanity. Hardly an original idea, but she’s just a cool character. I’m going to dabble with it and see if I can come up with a decent story.

I guess the gist of this is that I apparently have a genre identity crisis going on.

Sunday, November 12, 2006

I’d Like A Can Of Peas, Please

Justin, I’m telling you, it’s a great idea.

The Trailer Man, coming to a theater near you.

God, this just cracks me up.

. . .and a nation will cheer. 

Monday, November 06, 2006

Literary Vs Genre

I’ve often wondered what exactly separates so called genre fiction from so called literary fiction. Sure, you can read a novel and know that is decidedly one or the other, but just what is it exactly that separates the two? To use a cliché, I suppose it comes down to, I know it when I see it, but I can’t explain it.

Granted, the question that this essay asks is: Why are so many novelists in the modern age drawn to write about the ancient world, especially Rome but also, to a lesser extent, Greece?, but the following piqued my attention:

“Robert Harris may be one of Britain’s most popular novelists, but he remains a victim of literary snobbery, or so he thinks. Interviewed recently in the Observer, he complained that the kind of novels shortlisted for the Booker prize were as much works of genre as any other. Harris is considered to be a genre writer: a writer of the airport thriller and historical saga. As such he is never in contention for the main prizes, and his latest novel, Imperium, was predictably not among the 19 titles on this year’s Man Booker longlist.”

Of course, Harris’s publishers may not have entered it for the prize. But if they did, the novel had two things against it. First, the proof copy came with the boast that it had a publicity budget of £400,000, information guaranteed to offend high-minded judges. Second, it is indeed genre fiction ...

I tend to agree with Robert Harris to some degree, and I’ve often wondered why there exists this elitism, or “snobbery” if you will. I wonder if this phenomenon is—at least partly and perhaps inadvertently—perpetuated by the publishing industry. I’ve read accounts of Editors going to bat, kicking and screaming, to get a particular book published knowing that it will not make money and that it will be an economical bust, but because they feel the work is of such merit, they feel that it needs to be put out there. Doesn’t this attitude, in part, doom a book from the start? After such a book is in print and it’s “out there” do the publishers give it weak promotion, saving the big money for the Clancys and Grishams?

Personally, I read a broad spectrum of genres and styles. I’m as likely to pick up a Faulkner as I am a King. I can be as engrossed in one as much as the other as long as I’m reading a good story.

But, I suppose that most consumers are not like that. Or, perhaps they are, and book publishers are beginning to behave much the same Hollywood. I believe that Hollywood is vastly underestimating the average film viewer. But, that’s a whole other discussion.

I know that in my own work it would be difficult to pin down a specific genre. Sure, on the surface, much of what I write could be pigeon-holed, but I think that deeper down, it’s more broad than that. Perhaps that’s wishful thinking on my part.

Sunday, November 05, 2006

What’s Going On And The Dreaded Run-On Sentence

It’s been some time since I last posted. I’ve been busy with various things, including doing some writing of course. As stated a couple of posts down, I finished a fourth draft of The Breaks and decided to sit on it for awhile after giving to some readers for feedback. Well, that didn’t last long. I did give it to a couple of readers, and in the mean time I did some line editing on my own. I’m now on what could be easily considered a sixth draft.

Also, I got some very helpful feedback concerning Little Whiskey from someone. That is proving very useful.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about run-on sentences. I have an admittedly nasty habit of spewing out run-on sentences—especially in first or second drafts. I know people who absolutely hate run-on sentences, and I have no problem with them pointing them out to me. That said, I must admit that some of my favorite writers are heavy users of run-on sentences and, like most writers, I’m heavily influenced by writers I admire. The previous sentence is a perfect example of a run-on sentence by the way.

Personally, I don’t have a problem with well done run-on sentences; even heavy use of them. Take Ernest Hemingway for example. That guy could put down a run-sentence with the best of them. The thing that was interesting about Hemingway was that he’d put down a run-on sentence that was bordering on excessive, and then follow it up with a series of short, almost staccato-like, sentences.

Cormac McCarthy, one of the most stunning writers of our time, goes absolutely insane with run-ons. Of course, he’s Cormac McCarthy and can do any damn thing he wants. Read All The Pretty Horses, or No Country For Old Men, and you’ll see what I mean.

Another writer who comes to mind in this regard is Jim Harrison. One of his books—I believe it’s Wolf—starts out with a sentence that goes on for almost two pages.

I suppose the key concerning run-ons is doing it well. I’m not a good enough writer to do them well, but I still find myself drawn to them in certain situations. I think that some stories simply lend themselves to a particular style that includes the use of run-on sentences.

Or something like that.

Friday, October 13, 2006

Working On The Progress

I’ve not posted much lately; my bad. Actually, it’s not my bad. I’ve basically been trying to fit ten pounds of rice in a sack meant to hold five. Something’s got to give.

One thing I’ve been doing is accumulating more links which I will add to my list shortly.

My free time is limited to the point of absurdity. I’m not complaining mind you, just thinking out loud so to speak.

The only time I’ve been able to make for writing for the last several weeks has been between the time I come home from work and when I go to bed. I come home from work anywhere between 2:00 am and 4:00 am. During my lunch hour at work I’ve been writing outlines and first drafts in a notebook. I mull them over and then try to get in a couple of hours after work.

That leaves me with, perhaps, 4 hours sleep thanks to my mother in law who is kind enough to watch my son until I wake up. The rest of my day is then dedicated to him as much as possible. Like most people I do have a couple of days off. One of those days coincides with one of my wife’s days off. That day, of course, is spent together as a family. That one day of the week re-charges the batteries for the upcoming week.

Oh, my wife and I do spend some time together during the week. There is about a half-hour between the time she comes home and I leave and—during my 40 minute drive to work—we usually spend a few minutes on the phone while I drive.

Now, like I said, this is not meant to come across as a huge screed of complaining, really. It’s just the reality of my life at the current moment and, to be honest, I’m very happy with my life. The point is that, as busy as I am; as devastatingly tired as I sometimes am, I still manage to finagle time in to be productive in matters of both writing and family.

Monday, September 18, 2006

Dating My Wife

This weekend my wife and I went on our third date. We’ve known each other for six-plus years and have been married for five and this was date number three. Pathetic, huh?

By date I’m talking about where just the two of us go out together, no child, no friends, just the two of us enjoying each other’s company. In this case we took in the symphony and listened to a performance of Richard Strauss’ Don Juan and Burleske which was followed by Beethoven’s Symphony No. 3.

We had such a good time that we’ve decided to procure the services (babysitting the son) of my wife’s mother a few more times while she’s here and do it again. In fact I’m not against having the mother-in-law change her visit from a couple of months to as long as she wants. This dating thing is kind of fun.

Friday, September 01, 2006

This Blog and That Blog

In the few short days that I’ve had this web site up and running, I’ve already received a few comments and some e-mails. I’m impressed with the warmness of the people I’ve heard from in the writer’s blogosphere. It’s quite a far-cry from my other site—which I will not link to. Not that I’m trying to distance myself from it. Well, actually, I am trying to distance this blog from it. In fact, I’m thinking that this post will be the last reference to my other blog on this site, ever. 

This blog is here for completely different reasons than my other site. Is it work and play, play and work? I don’t know.

Anyway, that’s the way it is.