the blank page

It’s a writer’s nemisis, the blank page. Be it a solid sheet of white hanging out of a typewriter’s innards, or 19″ of pure blank screen staring back, with a tiny little cursor blinking there. Even if it’s a harmless sheet of college rule looking up from a notebook, there’s something intimidating about it.

Nothing else has the power to send a writer to the laundry room, or in search of a dirty dish to wash.

No other instrument on this Earth or the next can make a writer feel the need to boil water for tea, bake some cookies, or pull lint from one’s navel.

Even when the next novel is Right There, waiting not so quietly to begin.  The research is complete, or at least satisfied enough for the beginning – names have been chosen, a POV figured out. Even the opening scenes are all planned out in exquisite detail.  Yet still that blank page threatens.  We’re terrified of it. We can’t sit down in front of one without a drink in our hands, something to snack on by our side, sometimes even a few songs keyed up on the MP3.

It’s a monster, that blank page. I saw The Grudge, and even just the other day I watched The Ring – neither of them were even a blip on my “ooh, scary” radar. But the blank page sends shivers down my spine.

Not 5 days ago, I finished my last novel, In The Time Of Dying. It’s a big one, currently (before edits) clocking in at just over 122,000 words. Epic SF tale, with space Marines, alien worlds, all the intrigue and suspense you could hope for.  And, contrary to what this blank page is trying to tell me, I’m all set to write another novel. I’ve got the plot figured out, the characters are well-developed in my mind. I have the opening scenes, several other scenes, all the POV issues and details worked out. I’m excited about it, too.  It’ll be a long one, I suspect, an epic SF tale with loads of all the intrigue and suspense you could hope for.

It’s called The Cold Beyond, and it’s begging to get started.

Just as soon as I can conquer this damned blank page.

Black or White?

I was watching television the other day and a commercial came on for some new game, I didn’t catch the name, and it seemed aimed toward the little tikes – but something about it suddenly brought a realization forefront in my mind.

See, I’m a gamer – I’m not ashamed to admit that. I’m very finicky about what games I play, and now my computer is too outdated to play the new ones. But one thing I enjoy doing, after winning a particular game and reaching the end, I like to go back and play it again. You can explore places you didn’t have time for, seek out little areas you missed, try harder to kill everyone instead of running to that level’s goal while screaming like a little girl and ducking bullets like a ninny.

When I do that, I also like to set free my inner evil.  I’ll frag compatriots (if there are any) I’ll blow up scenery if the game lets me. I’ll even ram buildings with vehicles if the game is good enough to show me results. I’ll drive over my commander with a jeep, run off in the opposite direction, and even leap from cliffs just because they’re there.

Back to this game — whatever it was called, apparently the object was for you to wander through life and be incredibly benevolent, and create a new society and ecology based on your generous, giving nature.  BUT – and here’s the rub – there was an option to be Evil instead. You could run around in what looked like hell and be as mean and nasty and vengeful as you liked.

It reminded me of a game from years ago called Black or White. Wherein you were a giant, disembodied hand with god powers and you could affect your worshippers directly by picking them up out of the ocean to save them from drowning, or dropping fish into nets by the handful so your peeps didn’t starve.  OR, you could pick some helpless smuck up and drop him INTO the ocean, roll massive boulders down over their measly little crops, and burn down their silly grass huts.  There were consequences, naturally. If you were mean, you weren’t worshiped, you were feared. And anything you created was equally nasty.

That game got dull after three hours of picking people up and flinging them about willy-nilly, so I never got into it.  But that commercial made me realize that – when given a choice of which character to play – everyone assumes you’re going to go into this thing as the Good Guy.  In order to win the game, you have to do the “right thing”.  But it’s so much more FUN to do exactly the opposite.

Clearly in real life, we can’t wander around god-like and toss people into the waves.  So we play at it in games, choosing to be evil just for the fun of playing, because in reality we’re exactly the opposite.  In books and movies, nine times out of ten, the bad guy has the most fun and the best lines, but the good guy always wins in the end (does that burn you too, or is it just me?).

Which would you rather play, if given a choice?  Would you naturally choose to flex your deltoids of compassion, or petition Bad Horse for entry into the Evil League of Evil?

Frustrations

I’ve often lamented my lack of artistic skills when it comes to the visual.  While I have great “ideas”, I lack the physical talent to pull them off. 

Never before has this been more annoying than now – when I’ve become the cover artist for Trunk Novels. So far, I’ve managed to pull off some pretty good ones (if I do say so myself). One I’m particularly impressed with is for a novel: Word Wars, that will be coming out probably January.

It’s relatively easy to do when all I need is space and some planets – ie: Keeper.  But not all of the novels we’re publishing are SF, or set in deep space, so I’m forced to be more creative.  Even now, with Madness coming out in December, I’m trying to be more creative and avoid the simple “space with stars and a planet” mode and get more interesting – and failing !

What’s really irritating me right now is my inability to do enough with fonts in the meager graphics programs I have now. And when I go out there into the big unknown to research better ways to make graphics, I’m coming up empty. Faced with having to shell out wads for a new graphics program then hoping I can figure it out well enough to do what I want . . . so far I’ve tried some demos and failed grandly.

sigh.

My Kingdom for some artistic talent!

The sky is falling! The sky is falling!

Thank goodness it’s only made of air.

No, this isn’t a post about the crashing economy or the failure of the stock markets or the fact that – really – everything is just settling back down to it’s pre overly-inflated status.

Oh, wait, that was a comment about the economy.  Well let’s follow that up with a question:

Since you can’t even turn on the news, or log on to Yahoo, without hearing about the Doom and Gloom that was once our economy (and the world’s economy) and you don’t want to hear my nutter take on the state of spending – you’re probably looking for some mindless entertainment.

In times like these, our entertainment outlets are even more important than ever. We need an escape, however brief. Something to take our thoughts away from that which we cannot control, and give our stress levels a break.

So I’m wondering – what’s your escape route? Do you sit on the couch, grab the remote, and surf the channels – or do you go to your local bookstore and invest in some between-the-pages respite?  What gives you the most bang for your buck when it comes to “Calgon, take me away” moments?

dammit, jim!

I hate when this happens – I am mere chapters away from The End in my current novel, slowing down a bit because I start to feel funny around this time, every time – and then it happens. There I am, in the bathroom, minding my own business and contemplating how this next chapter needs to start, when suddenly BAM!

I get this new idea for a tension-building twist.

Right out of left field, this one. And I admit, it would be cool. But there are logistical issues, can it happen logically or would this be a big stretch – one of those “Duex Ex Machina” nightmares?

I dunno. And that makes me nuts, becuase NOW I have to sit here and contemplate it all, see if it will fit, if it won’t fit – and oh Crap, I’ve just had another twisting version of the idea pop up.

Frak!

*wanders off to sit and THINKTHINKTHINK instead of write, dammit*

are all writers bipolar?

Yesterday I was flying high – enjoying discussions about the future of Trunk Novels, brainstorming ideas for marketing and sponsorships that would bring in much needed revenue to promote and help place Trunk Novels in bookstores and mainstream online retailers. Feeling generally rosy and positive about the future.

Today, as I keep working on my current novel In The Time Of Dying – nearing the End, actually – I’m struck with the strong, utterly convincing truth that I suck. That nothing I write is marketable in today’s publishing economy, I’ll never score an agent – or midlist publisher – and I am destined to wallow in the mire of the unknown.

Tomorrow is anyone’s guess, but most likely I’ll be even that much closer to The End in my current novel and feeling higher than the proverbial kite, convinced of my capable storytelling abilities, ready to practice book signings and day dreaming of what it will be like to read about myself in the local papers.

Friday will be interesting – if the pattern holds, I’ll be ripping my manuscript into kitty litter shreds and going out for a few Bahama Mama’s (extra shot of rum please, thanks).

I know I’m not the only writer who goes through these highs and lows. Even the big-name, major league, published authors admit to feeling this way off and on. So it has less to do with my abilities or lack thereof, and more in keeping with a creative mind – or so I like to think.

This morning I joked about being destined for a life as an underground cult classic, while my friends will go on to become “Literary Ahhtists“. But even as I typed those words, I started to think “would that be so bad?” Would it really be considered a failure if I did manage to achieve Underground Cult status?

What do I want out of writing?

To have my work read, and enjoyed, by strangers.

To have other people love these characters as much as I do.

To entertain, provide an enjoyable escape from the everyday that can be revisited and shared.

To earn a few bucks.

To earn a little respect as a writer and storyteller.

All of these goals could be easily, and probably more satisfactorily achieved if I were to manage Underground Cult status. Buck the “system”, avoid “the man”, go boldly into that which no man has — well, let’s not get carried away.

But how does one achieve Underground Cult status? I have no idea. But if I make it, I’ll be sure and let you all know.

World crashing down around you?

The state of the economy got you down?

Have your stocks plummeted?  Is your savings worthless?  Were you fool enough to think you could charge your way through life, and now you can’t even figure out which bank holds all your loans?

The President wanted to own Wallstreet, but Congress said “No.”  Now what?  Is America doomed? Are we – as a nation – circling the drain?

Who cares!  Go here, watch this: Doctor Horrible’s Sing a-long blog.

You’ll be happier for having done so.  I swear.

here’s a thought

Why don’t they just kill John Conner?

Okay, I’m not a fan – I don’t watch the show – but last night I was too busy to do anything about it, and that Terminator show about Sarah Connor came on the TV, so while I was busy, I watched some of it. I hate it – let’s be clear about that going in. The original movie screwed up so badly with Time Travel and Alternate Dimensions, it had me screaming in frustration even back then. I had to ignore the sequels, just couldn’t stomach the Time Travel plot caverns.

Not plot holes, mind you. Plot Caverns!

Anyway, back to my point. There I was, watching this sad display of Science Fuktion, and I couldn’t help thinking – Why doesn’t it occur to these people that the way to solve their issues with the future isn’t to save John Conner, but to kill him? I mean, look at their future. John Conner was leading the resistance – but the resistance he was leading was completely fubar. His people were dying, living in tunnels underground, barely escaping the human-form Terminators. At the point in which one was sent back to prevent his birth, they weren’t exactly winning.

And since this franchise has already made a complete and utter mockery of Time, Logic and Just Plain Common Sense – who’s to say offing the doofus wouldn’t solve all their issues? Maybe that would leave room for someone else to rise up – someone smarter, better, and much more succesful? Clearly keeping John Conner alive is doing nothing more than causing the machines to rise, so that this little twat can lead them into fighting – and dying – underground in little tunnels and caves, warming their hands on all those set boxes that failed to go digital in 2009.

Hell – at this stage in their illogic, it sure couldn’t hurt to try !

was that ‘yes’ on #1, or ‘no’ to destroy the russians?

I just love this business.

The other day I was looking over my database, checking to see how many agents I’d queried for Ether, how many had responded and how many I had left to try. I’m running at about fifty percent – queried vs responded, and had four left to try. So I double checked the four agent websites, looked up their submission policies and requirements, and found that three of them only took snail while one did prefer email.

I was thrilled to find one still taking email, since obviously that’s the easiest, and least expensive way to correspond. Now, it does bother me that a huge segment of agents who prefer emailed queries have a policy of “if we’re not interested, you won’t hear from us.” Which means, basically, “We’re to f-ing lazy to hit Respond and send you a Form Rejection, so we’re gonna just ignore you.” You get this after reading their guidelines expounding on how this is a “business” and you should conduct yourself in a professional, business-like manner.

Well color me lavender, but a business proposal is — in the professional world — responded to, regardless of outcome.

But I digress. This agency I’d found is reputable, and had this to say on their Submission Guidelines: “At the XYZ Literary Agency, we believe that the best way to keep growing is to represent the newest and freshest talent in the business. For this reason we are always accepting queries. Because we are constantly accepting these queries, it should come as no surprise that we will not accept unsolicited book excerpts or completed manuscripts.”

Cool, I thought. And I went right off and emailed my query letter to the XYZ Literary Agency.

Four hours later, I got this response: “The XYZ agency does NOT accept unsolicited queries! Thank you, XYZ Agent.”

Well, alrighty then.

My bad.

Greed.

I saw on the Nightly news the other day how people are finding ways to “walk away” from one house while buying a new one. It’s called Buy and Bail, and here’s how it works:

You own a house that you borrowed $365,000 to buy, but in today’s market, the house is worth only $219,000 and your variable rate mortgage has ballooned to payments of $4,000 per month. You can’t afford that, so what do you do?

Apparently you go out and buy a NEW house, and letting the first one simply go into foreclosure, walking away from that responsibility as if it never happened.

How do you get a loan for a new house, when you owe on your first house and can’t afford it? Some are lying to the bank, saying they’re putting that house up for rent as income with no intention of doing so. Most simply quick-claim the house into a spouse’s name, or other family member, who will then take the credit hit when the house goes into foreclosure – ruining their credit and reputation, but keeping the guy who just bailed and bought the new house free and clear.

These are the people we’re bailing out. These are the people bringing down the housing industry, the banks, the country and each and every one of us who pay taxes in this country.

These are the greedy, selfish bastards who are making it nearly impossible for the rest of us (well, you, since I own my house already).

This is disgusting, people. A clearer depiction of greed I have never seen.

Do you watch those shows, House Hunters or Property Virgins, or My First House? Do you see where people have decided it’s time to buy their first home, give the agent a figure of – say – $125,000 as the MOST they can possibly afford to buy? Do you see those agents then show them a parade of homes for $185,000 and UP? Then the couples, who have fallen madly in love with one of those houses, decide that sure, okay, maybe if they forego eating, feeding their children, buying clothes for work, and sell a kidney, they could afford it.

And they BUY it! I watch them on the TV, signing those papers without a single clue what’s IN those papers, as easily as if they’ve just put a cashmere sweater on VISA (don’t’ get me started about that purchase).

Or, conversely, you see the young couple, all excited to be looking for their very first real life HOUSE to call their own – they declare to the viewers that they’re not at all picky. After all, they’re newly weds, no children planned any time soon. They’re just excited to own their first house.

Then you watch as they declare 3 bedrooms are simply not enough. And they’d like a formal dining room, thank you very much, since they’ll be having formal dinner affairs at least once a year. And they’ll be needing an office, by the way, and what’s up with that master bedroom suite not having a Jacuzzi bathtub? And OHMYGOD, do they expect us to SHARE a sink?

I have to admit, in the blackest pits of my soul where my hatred of greed and spending outside your means resides, I watch these dolts signing the papers for a mortgage that’s gonna cost them $2,195.00 per month and part of me hopes, with crossed fingers, that one of them gets laid off.

Apparently, though, what they’re doing is walking away and buying a smaller, cheaper house. Letting their credit rating sink into the abyss as if it’s no big thing, and forfeiting on bank loans they still legally owe.

I’m so disgusted, I feel the urge to open someone’s wallet and cut up their credit cards.

Wanna volunteer yours?