1 September 2011: Feast of Sts. Joseph Canh and Peter Tu.
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
"Why I Never Get Any Writing Done" at CWG Blog.
CWG Retreat 5--9 October 2011
Catholic Writers to Enjoy Special Spiritual Retreat
Lansing, MI: In collaboration with FAITH Catholic Publishing and Communications, The Catholic Writers Guild, will sponsor Your Word is My Delight, a Catholic writers' retreat, Oct 5-9, 2011. Come and delight in God's word and sacrament, and pray in a beautiful and serene retreat setting.
The retreat's key presenter is Pat Gohn, Catholic columnist, podcaster and catechist (link: http://www.patgohn.com/patgohn/About.html) . Other presenters are Father Charles E. Irvin, David Krajewski, Father David Rosenberg and Father Larry Delaney.
Writers will enjoy five spiritually-enriching days of daily Mass, adoration, the sacrament of reconciliation and many hours of writing time. Talks will explore how God speaks to and encourages writers through Scripture, papal writings and other topics in order to promote faith-filled writing.
Opportunities for networking also will be offered through an informal "book bash and social hour" Wednesday evening and Faith Catholic's one-on-one "pitch sessions" that give writers the chance to sell their current writing projects.
Cost for the four-day retreat is $450, which includes meals and accommodations. Deadline for registration is Sept 28. A nonrefundable deposit of $45 is required at registration.
To view a schedule of events, click here.
To download a brochure, click here.
To register for the retreat click here.
26 August 2011: Feast of St. Secundus.
"You talk like you was there" at CWG Blog.
"You talk like you was there." is up over on the Catholic Writers' Guild Blog.
16 August 2011: Feast of St. Uguzo.
"Writing the Alien Alien" up on CWG Blog
"Writing the Alien Alien" is up of the Catholic Writers' Guild Blog.
19 July 2011: Feast of St. Aurea.
"The Seasoned Writer" up at CWG Blog
"The Seasoned Writer" up at the Catholic Writers' Guild Blog.
5 July 2011: Feast of Sts. Fragan and Gwen.
"When all else fails..."
Most people I've noticed appear to accept instruction sheets and booklets as just another form of packing material, like brown rice paper, newsprint, and that squeaky foam that comes in bizarre shapes.*
A model kit company (Testor's, I think) used to include on their kit instructions a drawing of an exasperated looking man, covered in bits of model airplane and streamers of glue, sitting on the floor looking at an instruction sheet with the caption: "When all else fails, read the instructions!"
Occasionally, this could be a portrait of my daddy. He was the sort who believed in opening the box, pouring out the pieces, and immediately putting the whatever together--"Instructions? Instructions? We don't need no stinkin' instructions!"
As evidence, the Commonwealth will introduce Exhibit 22B:
Time: 14:26 Christmas Day a heck of a lot longer ago than I care to think about.
Place: A house on the south bank of the Potomac River.
Subject: "Hey, let's give the new toy a whirl!"
We had received one of those new blenders from someone I forget and Daddy was "hot to trot" to try it out. He decided the best way would be to whip up some milkshakes. The two of us retired to the kitchen followed as usual by a lap fice and three cats (after all, the bipeds were heading for the place from which all good things flow). As he unpacked the blender, I snagged the instruction book as it flew by (hey, I'll read anything up to and including the wrapper off a roll of toilet paper--do you know how many board-foot go into the average roll of--oh, yeah...the story). While I worked my way through the lawyer talk in the first several pages (something to the effect of please don't be an idiot while trying to use this wonder of technology--and when you are, don't sue us), Daddy put the blender together, measured out the milk and put it, several scoops of vanilla ice cream, and a number of healthy shots of chocolate syrup in the glass part. He plugged it in and just as I got to the part that reads, "WARNING: DO NOT OPERATE WITHOUT LID IN PLACE!" pushed the button. The geyser of chocolate milkshake hit the ceiling and spread to cover him, the counters, the various small predators present, and a goodly portion of the floor. The next happening was the precipitous departure of all quadruped life forms. My mom, having been trampled in the stampede (well, at least below the knees), comes into the kitchen at "All Ahead Full," surveys the desolation, and, without cutting her throttles, makes a high speed 180 degree turn to port and exits the area of operations. My daddy looks at the new decor and says, "Well, son, I guess we better clean up." Going after the mop and bucket, the thought runs through my mind--as Tonto said, "What do you mean 'we' white man?"
*Old Poot Digression:
One of the great losses from the slow death of print journalism is the absence of newspaper used as packing material these days. Often, the newspapers could be more interesting than whatever they protected in shipment.
As most seemed to come from retailers in smaller cities and towns, one was given a snapshot of life away from the larger and, often, rather boring mainstream media outlets. Being small towns, the stories tended to be covered in an "up close and personal" way. A murder which might be covered in Baltimore only because of the novel way the dearly departed was done in and then in only two and a half short paragraphs on page 18--inside column, would be splashed across the front page, above the fold, with jumps to three different large column-inch feature articles covering what was thought to have happened, who was thought to have dunit, why they were thought to have dunit, when the heinous deed was done, how they accomplished this piece of human drama, and the fact that their (the victim, murderer, or whichever family or friend) Uncle Fudd was coming in on the bus from Chilhowie to officiate at the celebration. For those of a writerly bent, this is the grist for the keyboarded mill. Outside of Arnold Toynbee, this is the magnification at which most writers work. If writers were supposed to write what they'd experienced as opposed to what they know (the last delivered in a thick Russian accent), most fiction would be really boring. While most of us write about the experiences of our lives and those of our friends and families (in my case, this is pretty much a non-starter. None of my family have been particularly homicidal--at least to those within the family), without the wider knowledge of life we obtain through watching others' disasters, our output would be on a par with that seen on the "walls" in Ray Bradbury's "Fahrenheit 451."
18 September 2010: Feast of St. Gerreoulus. Constantine the Great wins battle of Chrysopolis becoming sole emperor of Rome 324 AD, Moscow burns 1812, "Fugitive Slave Act" passed by U.S. Congress 1850, South African troops land in German Southwest Africa 1914, U.S. Air Force established 1947, Voyager I takes first photo of Earth and Moon together 1977.
A model kit company (Testor's, I think) used to include on their kit instructions a drawing of an exasperated looking man, covered in bits of model airplane and streamers of glue, sitting on the floor looking at an instruction sheet with the caption: "When all else fails, read the instructions!"
Occasionally, this could be a portrait of my daddy. He was the sort who believed in opening the box, pouring out the pieces, and immediately putting the whatever together--"Instructions? Instructions? We don't need no stinkin' instructions!"
As evidence, the Commonwealth will introduce Exhibit 22B:
Time: 14:26 Christmas Day a heck of a lot longer ago than I care to think about.
Place: A house on the south bank of the Potomac River.
Subject: "Hey, let's give the new toy a whirl!"
We had received one of those new blenders from someone I forget and Daddy was "hot to trot" to try it out. He decided the best way would be to whip up some milkshakes. The two of us retired to the kitchen followed as usual by a lap fice and three cats (after all, the bipeds were heading for the place from which all good things flow). As he unpacked the blender, I snagged the instruction book as it flew by (hey, I'll read anything up to and including the wrapper off a roll of toilet paper--do you know how many board-foot go into the average roll of--oh, yeah...the story). While I worked my way through the lawyer talk in the first several pages (something to the effect of please don't be an idiot while trying to use this wonder of technology--and when you are, don't sue us), Daddy put the blender together, measured out the milk and put it, several scoops of vanilla ice cream, and a number of healthy shots of chocolate syrup in the glass part. He plugged it in and just as I got to the part that reads, "WARNING: DO NOT OPERATE WITHOUT LID IN PLACE!" pushed the button. The geyser of chocolate milkshake hit the ceiling and spread to cover him, the counters, the various small predators present, and a goodly portion of the floor. The next happening was the precipitous departure of all quadruped life forms. My mom, having been trampled in the stampede (well, at least below the knees), comes into the kitchen at "All Ahead Full," surveys the desolation, and, without cutting her throttles, makes a high speed 180 degree turn to port and exits the area of operations. My daddy looks at the new decor and says, "Well, son, I guess we better clean up." Going after the mop and bucket, the thought runs through my mind--as Tonto said, "What do you mean 'we' white man?"
*Old Poot Digression:
One of the great losses from the slow death of print journalism is the absence of newspaper used as packing material these days. Often, the newspapers could be more interesting than whatever they protected in shipment.
As most seemed to come from retailers in smaller cities and towns, one was given a snapshot of life away from the larger and, often, rather boring mainstream media outlets. Being small towns, the stories tended to be covered in an "up close and personal" way. A murder which might be covered in Baltimore only because of the novel way the dearly departed was done in and then in only two and a half short paragraphs on page 18--inside column, would be splashed across the front page, above the fold, with jumps to three different large column-inch feature articles covering what was thought to have happened, who was thought to have dunit, why they were thought to have dunit, when the heinous deed was done, how they accomplished this piece of human drama, and the fact that their (the victim, murderer, or whichever family or friend) Uncle Fudd was coming in on the bus from Chilhowie to officiate at the celebration. For those of a writerly bent, this is the grist for the keyboarded mill. Outside of Arnold Toynbee, this is the magnification at which most writers work. If writers were supposed to write what they'd experienced as opposed to what they know (the last delivered in a thick Russian accent), most fiction would be really boring. While most of us write about the experiences of our lives and those of our friends and families (in my case, this is pretty much a non-starter. None of my family have been particularly homicidal--at least to those within the family), without the wider knowledge of life we obtain through watching others' disasters, our output would be on a par with that seen on the "walls" in Ray Bradbury's "Fahrenheit 451."
18 September 2010: Feast of St. Gerreoulus. Constantine the Great wins battle of Chrysopolis becoming sole emperor of Rome 324 AD, Moscow burns 1812, "Fugitive Slave Act" passed by U.S. Congress 1850, South African troops land in German Southwest Africa 1914, U.S. Air Force established 1947, Voyager I takes first photo of Earth and Moon together 1977.
Of groupies, fanboys, and...Why do I even bother?
A lot of male authors are supposedly inundated by masses of groupies. Battalions of nubile sweet young things throw themselves at the gods of the keyboard. They walk into a con suite and faster than they can conjugate a verb, they're propositioned in six languages and hues (some of them even of legal age).
To which I say a hardy "Pshaw!" Perhaps it's something about me (please, Lord, don't let it be that!), but mostly what I seem to attract are 30+ year old fanboys smelling of Clearasil and a notable lack of Right Guard or Irish Spring. The first thing out of their mouth is, "Ooh, ooh, I love yer stuff!" (Not a bad beginning of a conversation.) This followed by, "I write, draw, basket weave, greased pole climb--what have you--too!" Line number three ensues, "How do ya break into the business?" (Son, if ever I find out, rest assured, you'll be the 234th to know.) He then launches into a presentation on the GREAT WORK of his life (usually in genre I either have absolutely no experience in or that I hate so much that I break out in purple and green spots). He expounds the entire plot of his six volumes; the main, secondary, and tertiary characters' motivations (including why the protagonist's mother's unthinking actions that particular Christmas all those years ago drive the plot); and how his elves/stardrive/magic system is truly original and how it all keys off his D&D characters. It must be admitted that this young Hugo winner of the future actually is talented--he is able to communicate all of this information as he escorts one down the hall at a walk, at the trot, at the canter, at the gallop--forward!--from the function rooms to, hopefully, a friend's room--never, never let them find your true lair. And as the door is slammed in his face, he asks if he can send the fugitive his manuscript as soon as he has it all written down.
As for the female of the species, the groupie, the closest I've come to attracting them was the rather shop-worn wife of a fellow scribbler who made a pass at me that I put down to either incipient insanity or sunstroke (there was the occasional glint of sunlight between the snow squalls that day). Of course I manfully rejected her advances because it would have been a mortal sin for both of us (adultery); besides, who knew where she had been; and the wife was just out of earshot buffing her gladius--hell nor the Defense Department hath a fury like a ticked-off Irish woman.
The preceding is what soured me on the writers' life and explains why I have done my level best not to become a known author (something at which I have been frighteningly successful).
There now, who sez I can't write fantasy?
One of those conversations:
*ring*
Me: "Hello?"
#1 Son: "Dad, what temperature do you broil a chicken on?"
Me: "Uh, I don't know, how about 'Broil?'"
#1 Son: "Okay. Where do I put it in the oven?"
Me: "Is the stove gas or electric?"
#1 Son: "Electric."
Me: "Okay, put the broiler pan about four to six inches from the top element."
#1 Son: "It won't fit."
Me: "Pardon?"
#1 Son: "The chicken won't let me put it that close."
Me: "Uh, son? Is the chicken cut up?"
#1 Son: "No. Should it be?"
Me: "Yep. Unless you have a rotisserie."
#1 Son: "Okay, thanks, Dad. Bye."
*ring*
#1 Son: "Dad? I can't cut up the chicken."
Me: "I don't suppose it's still frozen?"
#1 Son: "Uh, yeah."
Me: "Okay, do you have a microwave?"
#1 Son: "No, Ted took it with him when he moved to his new place.'
Me: "Okay, put the chicken down in the refrigerator. It should be thawed by this time tomorrow. Do you something else to eat?"
#1 Son: "No, I'll have to go to the store."
Me: "Alright, tip for you--always try to have some hot dogs and buns handy in case something like this happens in the future. Okay?"*
#1 Son: "Yeah. Thanks, Dad. Bye."
I think I know why I'm gray. It ain't the years, it's the having kids.
* Our lady of dragons counseled me that I really should introduce him to that other staff of single life--Ramen Noodles, succor of twenty-somethings the world over.
13 September 2010: Feast of St. Amatus. Belisarius defeats Vandals at Battle of Ad Decimium in North Africa 533 AD, British capture Quebec 1759, Los Ninos Heroes killed defending Chapultepec 1847, Lee's orders found by Federals before Battle of Sharpsburg (Antietam) 1862, second day of Battle of Bloody Ridge (Edson's Ridge) on Guadalcanal 1942, first hard drive-IBM RAMAC 305-introduced 1956.
To which I say a hardy "Pshaw!" Perhaps it's something about me (please, Lord, don't let it be that!), but mostly what I seem to attract are 30+ year old fanboys smelling of Clearasil and a notable lack of Right Guard or Irish Spring. The first thing out of their mouth is, "Ooh, ooh, I love yer stuff!" (Not a bad beginning of a conversation.) This followed by, "I write, draw, basket weave, greased pole climb--what have you--too!" Line number three ensues, "How do ya break into the business?" (Son, if ever I find out, rest assured, you'll be the 234th to know.) He then launches into a presentation on the GREAT WORK of his life (usually in genre I either have absolutely no experience in or that I hate so much that I break out in purple and green spots). He expounds the entire plot of his six volumes; the main, secondary, and tertiary characters' motivations (including why the protagonist's mother's unthinking actions that particular Christmas all those years ago drive the plot); and how his elves/stardrive/magic system is truly original and how it all keys off his D&D characters. It must be admitted that this young Hugo winner of the future actually is talented--he is able to communicate all of this information as he escorts one down the hall at a walk, at the trot, at the canter, at the gallop--forward!--from the function rooms to, hopefully, a friend's room--never, never let them find your true lair. And as the door is slammed in his face, he asks if he can send the fugitive his manuscript as soon as he has it all written down.
As for the female of the species, the groupie, the closest I've come to attracting them was the rather shop-worn wife of a fellow scribbler who made a pass at me that I put down to either incipient insanity or sunstroke (there was the occasional glint of sunlight between the snow squalls that day). Of course I manfully rejected her advances because it would have been a mortal sin for both of us (adultery); besides, who knew where she had been; and the wife was just out of earshot buffing her gladius--hell nor the Defense Department hath a fury like a ticked-off Irish woman.
The preceding is what soured me on the writers' life and explains why I have done my level best not to become a known author (something at which I have been frighteningly successful).
There now, who sez I can't write fantasy?
One of those conversations:
*ring*
Me: "Hello?"
#1 Son: "Dad, what temperature do you broil a chicken on?"
Me: "Uh, I don't know, how about 'Broil?'"
#1 Son: "Okay. Where do I put it in the oven?"
Me: "Is the stove gas or electric?"
#1 Son: "Electric."
Me: "Okay, put the broiler pan about four to six inches from the top element."
#1 Son: "It won't fit."
Me: "Pardon?"
#1 Son: "The chicken won't let me put it that close."
Me: "Uh, son? Is the chicken cut up?"
#1 Son: "No. Should it be?"
Me: "Yep. Unless you have a rotisserie."
#1 Son: "Okay, thanks, Dad. Bye."
*ring*
#1 Son: "Dad? I can't cut up the chicken."
Me: "I don't suppose it's still frozen?"
#1 Son: "Uh, yeah."
Me: "Okay, do you have a microwave?"
#1 Son: "No, Ted took it with him when he moved to his new place.'
Me: "Okay, put the chicken down in the refrigerator. It should be thawed by this time tomorrow. Do you something else to eat?"
#1 Son: "No, I'll have to go to the store."
Me: "Alright, tip for you--always try to have some hot dogs and buns handy in case something like this happens in the future. Okay?"*
#1 Son: "Yeah. Thanks, Dad. Bye."
I think I know why I'm gray. It ain't the years, it's the having kids.
* Our lady of dragons counseled me that I really should introduce him to that other staff of single life--Ramen Noodles, succor of twenty-somethings the world over.
13 September 2010: Feast of St. Amatus. Belisarius defeats Vandals at Battle of Ad Decimium in North Africa 533 AD, British capture Quebec 1759, Los Ninos Heroes killed defending Chapultepec 1847, Lee's orders found by Federals before Battle of Sharpsburg (Antietam) 1862, second day of Battle of Bloody Ridge (Edson's Ridge) on Guadalcanal 1942, first hard drive-IBM RAMAC 305-introduced 1956.
Orders from the boss.
A lot of us are pushed around in this life. Sometimes it's someone who knows how to run our lives better than we do. Sometimes it's someone we invite into our lives. Hmm? No, not wives, husbands, or in-laws--though there have been reports of such things. I mean the ultimate boss, the Boss of bosses. Yep, that fur-covered cat food converter laying on my feet as I type this (Yeah, I know the word should be "lying," but it doesn't sound like my usually fractured syntax. Now shut up and go back to sleep, sir.).
Some of us have these predatory commandos barge in on us in that insidiously lethal form, the kitten on the doorstep. Others of us are stupid enough to actually go out and recruit these mercenaries (make no mistake, cats are mercenaries--dogs are regulars). My follies have covered both.
Dorsey, that handsome guy pictured to the left, hiring on with us was the result of one of my normal lapses in judgment (it must be true because the wife points this out quite often, usually while spoiling said creature). You don't own a cat. Either he owns you or, if you're lucky and have your act together, he hires on with you. Cats are independent cusses and only hang around if they like you, which is probably one of the things that appeals to me (the idea that they hang around only because you feed them tends to be a little doubtful--most seem to be of the opinion that they could do just as well or perhaps better elsewhere and have occasionally proved it).
Actually, our partnership has been a reasonably happy one on both sides. It's pleasant having him holding down the end of the bed and keeping my feet or the wife's head warm in the winter. And, happily, he learned early on in the relationship that bipeds are something to avoid as they stumble through the dark (after seven years, our daughter's black toy poodle is still working on that one). Like myself, he's not a picky eater for pretty much the same reason I'm not--growing up, if you didn't want what was served, you were welcome to go out and kill your own (contrary to popular belief, you generally don't see all that many cat or kid skeletons lying next to full food dishes). As long as the chow crunches and has a picture of a cat on the bag, he's happy. He will mention it occasionally when he thinks the cat pan could use some attention, but, then, I get kind of grumpy when the person before me forgets to put out a new roll of paper too.
So far, his major gripe with us is our lousy control of the weather. If it's very cold or pouring down rain. sleet, or snow, he will look out the front door sourly then stalk to the backdoor. When he sees the the same weather system appears to be also stagnating at that end of our mansion, he gives me a look loudly saying, "Klutz!" and stomps off toward the bed. When I think about it from his point of view, I can understand his opinion. We control the heat and air conditioning in the house; why can't we do the same outside? Robert A. Heinlein reported much the same behavior of his main protagonist in his novel, The Door Into Summer (1956). According to Wikipedia, the title and the book was suggested by a remark Heinlein's wife made about their cat. Now you know why writers put up with cats...or is it the other way around?
13 April 2010. Feast of St. Caradoc of Haroldston. Louis IX of France (St. Louis) is captured in Egypt 1250, Fort Sumter surrenders 1861, Troops of the Raj massacre 379 and wound 1,200 at Amristar 1919, Sidney Poitier wins Best Actor Oscar for "Lilies of the Field" 1963.
Some of us have these predatory commandos barge in on us in that insidiously lethal form, the kitten on the doorstep. Others of us are stupid enough to actually go out and recruit these mercenaries (make no mistake, cats are mercenaries--dogs are regulars). My follies have covered both.
Dorsey, that handsome guy pictured to the left, hiring on with us was the result of one of my normal lapses in judgment (it must be true because the wife points this out quite often, usually while spoiling said creature). You don't own a cat. Either he owns you or, if you're lucky and have your act together, he hires on with you. Cats are independent cusses and only hang around if they like you, which is probably one of the things that appeals to me (the idea that they hang around only because you feed them tends to be a little doubtful--most seem to be of the opinion that they could do just as well or perhaps better elsewhere and have occasionally proved it).
Actually, our partnership has been a reasonably happy one on both sides. It's pleasant having him holding down the end of the bed and keeping my feet or the wife's head warm in the winter. And, happily, he learned early on in the relationship that bipeds are something to avoid as they stumble through the dark (after seven years, our daughter's black toy poodle is still working on that one). Like myself, he's not a picky eater for pretty much the same reason I'm not--growing up, if you didn't want what was served, you were welcome to go out and kill your own (contrary to popular belief, you generally don't see all that many cat or kid skeletons lying next to full food dishes). As long as the chow crunches and has a picture of a cat on the bag, he's happy. He will mention it occasionally when he thinks the cat pan could use some attention, but, then, I get kind of grumpy when the person before me forgets to put out a new roll of paper too.
So far, his major gripe with us is our lousy control of the weather. If it's very cold or pouring down rain. sleet, or snow, he will look out the front door sourly then stalk to the backdoor. When he sees the the same weather system appears to be also stagnating at that end of our mansion, he gives me a look loudly saying, "Klutz!" and stomps off toward the bed. When I think about it from his point of view, I can understand his opinion. We control the heat and air conditioning in the house; why can't we do the same outside? Robert A. Heinlein reported much the same behavior of his main protagonist in his novel, The Door Into Summer (1956). According to Wikipedia, the title and the book was suggested by a remark Heinlein's wife made about their cat. Now you know why writers put up with cats...or is it the other way around?
13 April 2010. Feast of St. Caradoc of Haroldston. Louis IX of France (St. Louis) is captured in Egypt 1250, Fort Sumter surrenders 1861, Troops of the Raj massacre 379 and wound 1,200 at Amristar 1919, Sidney Poitier wins Best Actor Oscar for "Lilies of the Field" 1963.
Merry Christmas, y'all!
It's that time of the year.
Time to start putting in the garden, get the window screens fixed, clean out the air-conditioner vents and filters, figure where to store the heavy clothes with either mothballs or cedar chips (cheapest at the pet shop), and begin working on that Christmas story.
Yes, I did say, "Christmas story." And, yes, I know Christmas is more than a couple on months away. That's why the work on it gets started now.
First off, an idea has to be come up with. While I rarely know when my idea is going to show up, I can sort of track it back to where it hit me. For "Neither Fish Nor Foul" (published by Residential Aliens Magazine in their February 2010 issue), the spark was a question on Twitter from a friend from outside the U.S. about archaic laws still on the books. Two that immediately sprang to mind was one in New England that still makes it illegal to shave on Sunday, and another from the South making it a crime to "get a fish drunk" (DO NOT TRY THIS! Alcohol kills fish fast--as anyone knows who has had some moron pour their drink in his fish tank at a party). Being in close proximity, they mated and produced the story idea. Where you troll for ideas is up to you, everybody's mind works differently.
Next, you have to enter BGTS mode (Butt Glued To Seat) and write the thing. As far as plotting, you have to figure out how to get from position "A" to position "B" without teleportation. Editors get sort of cranky if they can't follow the story. Characters are up to you. Me, I use the usual suspects, the people I've met and known over the last half-century. They form a repertory company in my head. Each is different, but most fall into various "types" (you may recollect we talked about archetypes a while back?). Remember, archetypes--not stereotypes!
Okay, it's finished and it's the most adorable, beautiful piece of writing since clay tablets. Yeah...okay, whatever. Now it needs to be eyeballed by people who don't necessarily depend on you to eat regularly. Send it out to a bunch of friends (both fellow writers and just plain readers) and sit back and wait for the blood to flow. When all the critiques return (which for most of us is sometime in the next interglacial), read through all of them and look for things, other than typos, the majority remarked on. If most were nauseated by your favorite character's name, it might be wise to rethink it. Remember this, although you must be sensitive to their comments (otherwise, why waste everyone's time?), you are allowed, even encouraged, to let your "voice" sound in the writing.
Finally, everything is pre-flighted and you're ready to launch. Go for it! Send it to the first publisher on your list. When they bounce it, the next, and the next. If it's any good, eventually one of two things will happen, either someone will run it or you'll starve. Who sez writing ain't fun? Seriously, when someone does accept the story, they'll most likely want it at least four to six months before the target date (this is print media--some of the online guys play by their own rules, so check).
One thing to keep in mind, Mel Torme' and Bob Wells, when they wrote "The Christmas Song"--one of the biggest selling pieces of Christmas music in history, were working in an unair-conditioned room on a 97 degree F (36 degree C) day with the humidity about 200 percent (welcome to southern California!--or was it Florida?). So, start thinking cool thoughts.
23 March 2010: Feast of St. Ethelwald of Fame Island. Patrick Henry delivers "Give me liberty, or give me death" speech in Richmond's St. John's Church 1775, Russian Tsar Paul I trampled to death in bedroom 1801, Battle of Kernstown 1862, Reichstag passes "Enabling Act of 1933" making Adolf Hitler dictator of Germany 1933, Gemini 6 carrying Gus Grissom and John Young launched 1965.
Time to start putting in the garden, get the window screens fixed, clean out the air-conditioner vents and filters, figure where to store the heavy clothes with either mothballs or cedar chips (cheapest at the pet shop), and begin working on that Christmas story.
Yes, I did say, "Christmas story." And, yes, I know Christmas is more than a couple on months away. That's why the work on it gets started now.
First off, an idea has to be come up with. While I rarely know when my idea is going to show up, I can sort of track it back to where it hit me. For "Neither Fish Nor Foul" (published by Residential Aliens Magazine in their February 2010 issue), the spark was a question on Twitter from a friend from outside the U.S. about archaic laws still on the books. Two that immediately sprang to mind was one in New England that still makes it illegal to shave on Sunday, and another from the South making it a crime to "get a fish drunk" (DO NOT TRY THIS! Alcohol kills fish fast--as anyone knows who has had some moron pour their drink in his fish tank at a party). Being in close proximity, they mated and produced the story idea. Where you troll for ideas is up to you, everybody's mind works differently.
Next, you have to enter BGTS mode (Butt Glued To Seat) and write the thing. As far as plotting, you have to figure out how to get from position "A" to position "B" without teleportation. Editors get sort of cranky if they can't follow the story. Characters are up to you. Me, I use the usual suspects, the people I've met and known over the last half-century. They form a repertory company in my head. Each is different, but most fall into various "types" (you may recollect we talked about archetypes a while back?). Remember, archetypes--not stereotypes!
Okay, it's finished and it's the most adorable, beautiful piece of writing since clay tablets. Yeah...okay, whatever. Now it needs to be eyeballed by people who don't necessarily depend on you to eat regularly. Send it out to a bunch of friends (both fellow writers and just plain readers) and sit back and wait for the blood to flow. When all the critiques return (which for most of us is sometime in the next interglacial), read through all of them and look for things, other than typos, the majority remarked on. If most were nauseated by your favorite character's name, it might be wise to rethink it. Remember this, although you must be sensitive to their comments (otherwise, why waste everyone's time?), you are allowed, even encouraged, to let your "voice" sound in the writing.
Finally, everything is pre-flighted and you're ready to launch. Go for it! Send it to the first publisher on your list. When they bounce it, the next, and the next. If it's any good, eventually one of two things will happen, either someone will run it or you'll starve. Who sez writing ain't fun? Seriously, when someone does accept the story, they'll most likely want it at least four to six months before the target date (this is print media--some of the online guys play by their own rules, so check).
One thing to keep in mind, Mel Torme' and Bob Wells, when they wrote "The Christmas Song"--one of the biggest selling pieces of Christmas music in history, were working in an unair-conditioned room on a 97 degree F (36 degree C) day with the humidity about 200 percent (welcome to southern California!--or was it Florida?). So, start thinking cool thoughts.
23 March 2010: Feast of St. Ethelwald of Fame Island. Patrick Henry delivers "Give me liberty, or give me death" speech in Richmond's St. John's Church 1775, Russian Tsar Paul I trampled to death in bedroom 1801, Battle of Kernstown 1862, Reichstag passes "Enabling Act of 1933" making Adolf Hitler dictator of Germany 1933, Gemini 6 carrying Gus Grissom and John Young launched 1965.
A Touch of This and a Taste of That...
This is going to be a short post (SFX: sound of general celebration). Basically, I'm kind of beat from working on the "Obviously God has a sense of humor. - Humor in Writing" workshop over at the Catholic Writers' Conference Online (you may have heard me mention it once or twice in passing). Looking at it, the participants are doing a good job.
Baseball:
Ran across something nice for baseball fans. The iTunes store offers video of complete major league baseball games that can be downloaded to an iPod. I tried it with a 2007 game between the Orioles and Rangers. It works very well on my iPod Classic. The game cost me $1.99. Collections of 2007 and 2009 seasons are available while individual games maybe purchased from 2007, 2008, and 2009 (the 2007 collection is short and goes for about $40. The 2009 collection has a lot more games, but comes at a wallet-busting $125). As a note, my download ate around 1 GB of memory. I'm expecting to move the download over to my external drive after sending it to the iPod, to make space for the next on my poor little 160 GB laptop drive (the fact that the memory is partitioned into a pair of 80s isn't one of my favorites). The games can be found at the iTunes store by searching "MLB.Com."
Good Writing:
I made a pleasant discovery while researching for the workshop. Three of the writers I assigned as reading are available at Google Books and Read Books Online. Here are the links:
Hilaire Belloc's The Path to Rome
Rudyard Kipling's "The Village Who Voted the World Flat"
G.K. Chesterton's The Man Who Was Thursday
Okay, I'll be back when I get some sleep. Have fun.
28 February 2010: Feast of St. Hedwig of Poland. Han Dynasty begins with coronation of Liu Bang (Emperor Gaozu of Han) 202 BC, Fourth Council of Constantinople ends 870, Republican Party organized 1854, USS Houston (CA 30) and HMAS Perth (D 29) sunk in Battle of Sunda Strait 1942.
Baseball:
Ran across something nice for baseball fans. The iTunes store offers video of complete major league baseball games that can be downloaded to an iPod. I tried it with a 2007 game between the Orioles and Rangers. It works very well on my iPod Classic. The game cost me $1.99. Collections of 2007 and 2009 seasons are available while individual games maybe purchased from 2007, 2008, and 2009 (the 2007 collection is short and goes for about $40. The 2009 collection has a lot more games, but comes at a wallet-busting $125). As a note, my download ate around 1 GB of memory. I'm expecting to move the download over to my external drive after sending it to the iPod, to make space for the next on my poor little 160 GB laptop drive (the fact that the memory is partitioned into a pair of 80s isn't one of my favorites). The games can be found at the iTunes store by searching "MLB.Com."
Good Writing:
I made a pleasant discovery while researching for the workshop. Three of the writers I assigned as reading are available at Google Books and Read Books Online. Here are the links:
Hilaire Belloc's The Path to Rome
Rudyard Kipling's "The Village Who Voted the World Flat"
G.K. Chesterton's The Man Who Was Thursday
Okay, I'll be back when I get some sleep. Have fun.
28 February 2010: Feast of St. Hedwig of Poland. Han Dynasty begins with coronation of Liu Bang (Emperor Gaozu of Han) 202 BC, Fourth Council of Constantinople ends 870, Republican Party organized 1854, USS Houston (CA 30) and HMAS Perth (D 29) sunk in Battle of Sunda Strait 1942.
Please ignore the frozen St. Bernard, it's spring!
Well, we seemed to have received a misdirected shipment of snow intended for our friends to the north. As proof I point to the address on the packing list inside the delivery. It plainly reads, "Calgary, Alberta." Apparently somebody at the originating point screwed up the postal code. I must admit to being a bit surprised, usually that concern is noted for getting it right. Of course, I suppose it's possible circumstances way beyond my ability to understand came into play.
Speaking of play, it's THAT time of year again. Spring training begins next Tuesday! No more will I have to listen to games from last year as I write [more on this below], the new season is starting up. Maybe this year the Orioles will go all the way (for further thoughts along these lines, see the musical "Damn Yankees").
A guy named Austin Gisriel has written a good book entitled Safe at Home: A Season in the Valley. [Note to FTC: Bought it myself boys, so go peddle your papers.] It follows the New Market Rebels through a season of Valley league baseball. The book is a good read for the light it throws on minor league baseball, the Shenandoah Valley, and life in small town Virginia. You can find a better writeup on it here: http://www.rebelsbaseball.biz/html/safe_at_home/index.html
and buy it here: http://www.rebelsbaseball.biz/html/safe_at_home/buy.html .
Earlier I spoke of listening to ballgames while writing (which may explain my often disconnected flow of thought). The web is a very fine thing for the ball fan. You have your choice of watching or listening to major league games for a (what I consider reasonable) price, or listening to minor league games from all over the country for free.
I keep a MLB subscription year round [Note to FTC: It's on my personal plastic, guys. See above snide remark.]. This lets me watch or listen to any games played in the regular season. As I tend to follow the Orioles, Rangers, and Blue Jays and occasionally look at the Diamondbacks, Padres, and Nationals (thinking about the last one, admit it--who would really turn away from a train wreck?), I can't remember how the games went, so they're new to me each time. MLB can be found at: http://mlb.mlb.com/index.jsp (look under "Audio & Video").
In the minor leagues, a lot of teams have feeds so you can listen to live radio broadcasts of the games. Most also have archived games that you can listen to anytime you wish. The minor league games I tend to listen to are those of the Valley League, The Washington Wild Things (Washington, Pennsylvania), and the Salem Red Sox, Virginia farm team of the Boston Red Sox. The joy of this, besides hearing good baseball (and people who talk like me), is it's free! I'll give the links below.
Valley League: http://www.valleyleaguebaseball.com/landing/index (Click on "Valley League Baseball Listen Live." For the archive, click "Click here to listen to archived broadcasts" under the blue letters saying, "Stretch Internet." The site will ask to download a couple of programs so your computer can run the games. They're harmless.)
The Washington Wild Things: http://www.washingtonwildthings.com/ . The games are found on the MSA Sports Network under "Archived College Broadcasts (don't ask me why, the Wild Things are professional)" at: http://www.msasportsnetwork.com/main_calendar.asp?region=1&m=5-2009&d=22
Salem Red Sox: http://web.minorleaguebaseball.com/index.jsp?sid=t414
Someone writing in Baseball Digest http://www.baseballdigest.com/ remarked that on opening day of spring training, every team is in first place. A rather reassuring thought.
20 February 2010: Feast of St. Wulfric of Haselbury. Orkney and Shetland given to Scotland by Norway as dowry payment 1472; U.S. Post Office Department established 1792; Lt. Edward "Butch" O'Hare USN becomes first U.S. ace of World War II 1942; Col. John Glenn USMC becomes first American to orbit the Earth aboard Project Mercury's "Friendship 7" 1962.
Speaking of play, it's THAT time of year again. Spring training begins next Tuesday! No more will I have to listen to games from last year as I write [more on this below], the new season is starting up. Maybe this year the Orioles will go all the way (for further thoughts along these lines, see the musical "Damn Yankees").
A guy named Austin Gisriel has written a good book entitled Safe at Home: A Season in the Valley. [Note to FTC: Bought it myself boys, so go peddle your papers.] It follows the New Market Rebels through a season of Valley league baseball. The book is a good read for the light it throws on minor league baseball, the Shenandoah Valley, and life in small town Virginia. You can find a better writeup on it here: http://www.rebelsbaseball.biz/html/safe_at_home/index.html
and buy it here: http://www.rebelsbaseball.biz/html/safe_at_home/buy.html .
Earlier I spoke of listening to ballgames while writing (which may explain my often disconnected flow of thought). The web is a very fine thing for the ball fan. You have your choice of watching or listening to major league games for a (what I consider reasonable) price, or listening to minor league games from all over the country for free.
I keep a MLB subscription year round [Note to FTC: It's on my personal plastic, guys. See above snide remark.]. This lets me watch or listen to any games played in the regular season. As I tend to follow the Orioles, Rangers, and Blue Jays and occasionally look at the Diamondbacks, Padres, and Nationals (thinking about the last one, admit it--who would really turn away from a train wreck?), I can't remember how the games went, so they're new to me each time. MLB can be found at: http://mlb.mlb.com/index.jsp (look under "Audio & Video").
In the minor leagues, a lot of teams have feeds so you can listen to live radio broadcasts of the games. Most also have archived games that you can listen to anytime you wish. The minor league games I tend to listen to are those of the Valley League, The Washington Wild Things (Washington, Pennsylvania), and the Salem Red Sox, Virginia farm team of the Boston Red Sox. The joy of this, besides hearing good baseball (and people who talk like me), is it's free! I'll give the links below.
Valley League: http://www.valleyleaguebaseball.com/landing/index (Click on "Valley League Baseball Listen Live." For the archive, click "Click here to listen to archived broadcasts" under the blue letters saying, "Stretch Internet." The site will ask to download a couple of programs so your computer can run the games. They're harmless.)
The Washington Wild Things: http://www.washingtonwildthings.com/ . The games are found on the MSA Sports Network under "Archived College Broadcasts (don't ask me why, the Wild Things are professional)" at: http://www.msasportsnetwork.com/main_calendar.asp?region=1&m=5-2009&d=22
Salem Red Sox: http://web.minorleaguebaseball.com/index.jsp?sid=t414
Someone writing in Baseball Digest http://www.baseballdigest.com/ remarked that on opening day of spring training, every team is in first place. A rather reassuring thought.
20 February 2010: Feast of St. Wulfric of Haselbury. Orkney and Shetland given to Scotland by Norway as dowry payment 1472; U.S. Post Office Department established 1792; Lt. Edward "Butch" O'Hare USN becomes first U.S. ace of World War II 1942; Col. John Glenn USMC becomes first American to orbit the Earth aboard Project Mercury's "Friendship 7" 1962.
Something from Someone Rational.
Had surgery on my arm last Friday and since it hurts and I'm in a lousy mood, rather than inflict my spleen on the good folks who trip over this blog, I'm going to cop out and just post the following from some people who, no doubt, are much better company than I am at the moment:
Catholic Writers' Conference Online
For Immediate Release
Catholic Writers Online Conference Provides Authors More Opportunities than Ever!
World Wide Web--In order to get published, writers need several things: knowledge, support and opportunity. The Catholic Writers Conference Online seeks to give writers all of those--for free!
Writers, editors, agents, and other publishing professionals from around the world are gearing up for the third annual Catholic Writers' Conference Online, which will be held February 26-March 5, 2010. Sponsored by the Catholic Writer's Guild, the online conference is free of charge and open to writers of all levels who register before February 15, 2010.
Workshops and live online chats cover the gamut of writing topics from idea generation to marketing a published novel; traditional and self-publishing, article writing and fiction, and much more. "We have sixty subject-matter experts giving their time to teach others--from the fledgling writer learning about plot to the experienced author wanting to better market their works," said co-coordinator Karina Fabian.
In addition, ten prominent publishers (Catholic, Christian and secular) will hear pitches, giving authors an unprecedented opportunity to chat personally despite living hundreds or thousands of miles away.
The CWCO has also added small critique workshops, where writers can get information and advice specific to their writing.
"CWG's goal in creating these conferences is to help Catholic authors get published. In this economy, the online conference provides a great opportunity for Catholic writers to better their skills and jump forward in their writing careers. The cost is nil and the value is priceless. No Catholic writer should miss it," said CWG Vice President Ann Lewis.
Although the conference is offered free of charge, donations are accepted; proceeds will go toward future conferences. To register or for more information, go to: http://www.catholcwritersconference.com/
11 February 2010: Feast of St. Adolf of Osnabruck. Emperor Jimmu founds Japan 660 BC, Massachusetts Gov. Elbridge Gerry invents "gerrymandering" 1812, encyclical Vehementer nos published by Pope Pius X 1905, BBC produces first TV science fiction program - Karel Capek's R.U.R (source of word "robot) 1938.
Catholic Writers' Conference Online
For Immediate Release
Catholic Writers Online Conference Provides Authors More Opportunities than Ever!
World Wide Web--In order to get published, writers need several things: knowledge, support and opportunity. The Catholic Writers Conference Online seeks to give writers all of those--for free!
Writers, editors, agents, and other publishing professionals from around the world are gearing up for the third annual Catholic Writers' Conference Online, which will be held February 26-March 5, 2010. Sponsored by the Catholic Writer's Guild, the online conference is free of charge and open to writers of all levels who register before February 15, 2010.
Workshops and live online chats cover the gamut of writing topics from idea generation to marketing a published novel; traditional and self-publishing, article writing and fiction, and much more. "We have sixty subject-matter experts giving their time to teach others--from the fledgling writer learning about plot to the experienced author wanting to better market their works," said co-coordinator Karina Fabian.
In addition, ten prominent publishers (Catholic, Christian and secular) will hear pitches, giving authors an unprecedented opportunity to chat personally despite living hundreds or thousands of miles away.
The CWCO has also added small critique workshops, where writers can get information and advice specific to their writing.
"CWG's goal in creating these conferences is to help Catholic authors get published. In this economy, the online conference provides a great opportunity for Catholic writers to better their skills and jump forward in their writing careers. The cost is nil and the value is priceless. No Catholic writer should miss it," said CWG Vice President Ann Lewis.
Although the conference is offered free of charge, donations are accepted; proceeds will go toward future conferences. To register or for more information, go to: http://www.catholcwritersconference.com/
11 February 2010: Feast of St. Adolf of Osnabruck. Emperor Jimmu founds Japan 660 BC, Massachusetts Gov. Elbridge Gerry invents "gerrymandering" 1812, encyclical Vehementer nos published by Pope Pius X 1905, BBC produces first TV science fiction program - Karel Capek's R.U.R (source of word "robot) 1938.
"What's in a name?"
"To name something is to own it." This is an old idea from the beginning of time. If you can name something, not only can you describe it, you can possibly control it. This why among people who believe in magic and witchcraft, most have a secret or "spirit" name that is only known to them and a select few.
Naming conventions is something a fiction writer needs to keep in mind when introducing his or her characters to the reader. How people name their children and how those children identify themselves will tell a lot about the culture.
In medieval Europe the rise of family names came from people being known by their occupation, a feature, where they lived ("Miller," "Fuller," "Long," "Short," "Bridges," "London," "Longbottom") or who they were related to ("Watson," "Fitzhugh," "Brothersson [that one I don't think I want to look too closely at]"). As a note, in Iceland four members of a nuclear family can have four different last names such as Rorick Erikson, his wife Feya Jorgansdaughter, and their childern Erik Rorickson and Trondi Roricksdaughter (something that gives an Icelandic phone book a slightly higher page count than War and Peace).
The Romans seemed to have a dearth of names that were fashionable over the millennium their republic and empire lasted. To paraphrase Sam Goldwin, "Every Tom, Dick, and Harry was named Gaius." It seems there were only about eight names used for boys and approximately the same number for girls. This led one barbarian chieftain to remark, "The Romans must be a poor people as they can afford so few names to chose from." With everyone named pretty much the same thing, the Romans had to resort to nicknames and qualifiers such as "the elder/the younger," "Black/florid/tall/short/fat," "The African/Thracian/Iberian," etc (which somewhat puts the lie to "Roman efficiency"). The same sort of thing arose among the men who fought the War Between the States. So many were either named John or something outlandish that, like the Romans, most ended up known more by their nicknames (Ulysses Simpson Grant and John Bell Hood were "Sam" as an example) or used their middle name (William Dorsey Pender was known to his contemporaries and history usually just as Dorsey Pender--one of the uncles on my father's side and our cat of the moment were named "Dorsey" for him). In the movie "Zulu," the fact so many Welshmen were named William Jones is highlighted in the practice in Welsh regiments of using a portion of their service number as a qualifier ("2451 Jones" or "Jones 6325"). We ran into something like this in a medievalist group I belonged to. We had three "Roricks," "Rorick Rorickson," "Rorick the Long," and the luckiest of all, "Rorick Joanna's Husband."
Another name use convention I've found notably within three groups is the first two initials used rather than first and second name. Quite often when you run across such, there is a fair chance that the person (male usually) is either a Russian, an Indian (from the subcontinent rather than Amerindian), or worked for the Norfolk and Western Railway.
If you write crime, keep in mind dang near everybody on the street goes by a nickname. Part of this just a natural human affinity for such and part is because there are a lot of dudes out there you just don't want to know your real name. There's also the "AKA" factor (Also Known As). Multiple aliases are the norm (without such, police files that take up three floors could probably be kept in one file cabinet with a drawer left over for munchies and another for girlie magazines). As one cop said, "Everybody on the street's got a name."
There is also the divide between East and West. In eastern Asia, the family name comes first followed by the given names. In my young and more foolish days, this used to trip me up when doing research on that area. As I have to read in translation, whether the family name came first or last (and Lord help me, I even came across one in which it was sandwiched between two given names) seemed totally at the whim of an editor in either New York or London. Before I wised up, I wasted time looking for information on Saburo Sakai under what I thought was the family name, "Saburo"--which is kind of like trying to look up James Longstreet under "Jimmy (by the way, he went by "Pete")."
For the writer, naming characters gives you a certain power. The name can describe their inner person (Dickens' name picks immediately pops to mind), make them ridiculous ("Major Minor," "Private Means,"), show how life treats them (Joseph Heller's "Major Major Major"), or you can honor someone (my naming of spacecraft such as the survey vessel Alfred L. Wegener or the "Hero" class destroyers Kevin Barry and Todd Beamer). The guys in England who translated Rene Goscinny and Albert Uderzo's French comic "Asterix the Gaul" had a field day with this with folks like the Roman commander, Cumulus Nimbus, the over weight Goth, Hemispheric, the Greek Mercenary, Neverataloss, and the confused Egyptian vacationer, Ptennisnet (personally, I think the Druid's name "Readymix" in the American translation used during the comic's short run in U.S. newspapers was funnier than the Brit "Getafix"). I've noticed that Karina Fabian's elves in her Dragoneye, P.I. series have the same lamentable taste in names as Neverataloss' parents.
One thing a writer should probably have little fear of is coming up with a name that nobody would give their kid. Looking at some names will convince you that either all their taste was in their mouth or they must have hated their offspring. I remember a lady who had to go through life as Rose Thorn--naturally, she married a guy named Bush.
3 February 2010: Feast of St. Liafdag of Jutland. Spain recognizes U.S. 1783, Meiji Emperor enthroned - Tokyo 1867, Earthquake - Hawke's Bay, New Zealand 1931, U.S. Marines and Army capture Kwajalein 1944.
Naming conventions is something a fiction writer needs to keep in mind when introducing his or her characters to the reader. How people name their children and how those children identify themselves will tell a lot about the culture.
In medieval Europe the rise of family names came from people being known by their occupation, a feature, where they lived ("Miller," "Fuller," "Long," "Short," "Bridges," "London," "Longbottom") or who they were related to ("Watson," "Fitzhugh," "Brothersson [that one I don't think I want to look too closely at]"). As a note, in Iceland four members of a nuclear family can have four different last names such as Rorick Erikson, his wife Feya Jorgansdaughter, and their childern Erik Rorickson and Trondi Roricksdaughter (something that gives an Icelandic phone book a slightly higher page count than War and Peace).
The Romans seemed to have a dearth of names that were fashionable over the millennium their republic and empire lasted. To paraphrase Sam Goldwin, "Every Tom, Dick, and Harry was named Gaius." It seems there were only about eight names used for boys and approximately the same number for girls. This led one barbarian chieftain to remark, "The Romans must be a poor people as they can afford so few names to chose from." With everyone named pretty much the same thing, the Romans had to resort to nicknames and qualifiers such as "the elder/the younger," "Black/florid/tall/short/fat," "The African/Thracian/Iberian," etc (which somewhat puts the lie to "Roman efficiency"). The same sort of thing arose among the men who fought the War Between the States. So many were either named John or something outlandish that, like the Romans, most ended up known more by their nicknames (Ulysses Simpson Grant and John Bell Hood were "Sam" as an example) or used their middle name (William Dorsey Pender was known to his contemporaries and history usually just as Dorsey Pender--one of the uncles on my father's side and our cat of the moment were named "Dorsey" for him). In the movie "Zulu," the fact so many Welshmen were named William Jones is highlighted in the practice in Welsh regiments of using a portion of their service number as a qualifier ("2451 Jones" or "Jones 6325"). We ran into something like this in a medievalist group I belonged to. We had three "Roricks," "Rorick Rorickson," "Rorick the Long," and the luckiest of all, "Rorick Joanna's Husband."
Another name use convention I've found notably within three groups is the first two initials used rather than first and second name. Quite often when you run across such, there is a fair chance that the person (male usually) is either a Russian, an Indian (from the subcontinent rather than Amerindian), or worked for the Norfolk and Western Railway.
If you write crime, keep in mind dang near everybody on the street goes by a nickname. Part of this just a natural human affinity for such and part is because there are a lot of dudes out there you just don't want to know your real name. There's also the "AKA" factor (Also Known As). Multiple aliases are the norm (without such, police files that take up three floors could probably be kept in one file cabinet with a drawer left over for munchies and another for girlie magazines). As one cop said, "Everybody on the street's got a name."
There is also the divide between East and West. In eastern Asia, the family name comes first followed by the given names. In my young and more foolish days, this used to trip me up when doing research on that area. As I have to read in translation, whether the family name came first or last (and Lord help me, I even came across one in which it was sandwiched between two given names) seemed totally at the whim of an editor in either New York or London. Before I wised up, I wasted time looking for information on Saburo Sakai under what I thought was the family name, "Saburo"--which is kind of like trying to look up James Longstreet under "Jimmy (by the way, he went by "Pete")."
For the writer, naming characters gives you a certain power. The name can describe their inner person (Dickens' name picks immediately pops to mind), make them ridiculous ("Major Minor," "Private Means,"), show how life treats them (Joseph Heller's "Major Major Major"), or you can honor someone (my naming of spacecraft such as the survey vessel Alfred L. Wegener or the "Hero" class destroyers Kevin Barry and Todd Beamer). The guys in England who translated Rene Goscinny and Albert Uderzo's French comic "Asterix the Gaul" had a field day with this with folks like the Roman commander, Cumulus Nimbus, the over weight Goth, Hemispheric, the Greek Mercenary, Neverataloss, and the confused Egyptian vacationer, Ptennisnet (personally, I think the Druid's name "Readymix" in the American translation used during the comic's short run in U.S. newspapers was funnier than the Brit "Getafix"). I've noticed that Karina Fabian's elves in her Dragoneye, P.I. series have the same lamentable taste in names as Neverataloss' parents.
One thing a writer should probably have little fear of is coming up with a name that nobody would give their kid. Looking at some names will convince you that either all their taste was in their mouth or they must have hated their offspring. I remember a lady who had to go through life as Rose Thorn--naturally, she married a guy named Bush.
3 February 2010: Feast of St. Liafdag of Jutland. Spain recognizes U.S. 1783, Meiji Emperor enthroned - Tokyo 1867, Earthquake - Hawke's Bay, New Zealand 1931, U.S. Marines and Army capture Kwajalein 1944.
"Take my word for it, kid."
Lies, Damn Lies, and Oral History?
I've been doing history for a short while (when you tend to think in millennia, half a century is chump-change) and the more I do it, the more I get the feeling we're being kidded sometimes.
One of the big deals at the moment is "oral history." This usually seems to involve a senior high school student or college undergrad pestering old farts for the story of how things were when said old fart was about their age. Nothing wrong with this. It keeps the kids out of beer joints and gives the ancients a visitor and something to pass the time. The only problem is when the history that comes from this source is distributed as the GOSPEL TRUTH without being checked against reality (whatever that is).
I realize there are those who maintain all truth is relative. As a certain Roman bureaucrat asked a little while ago, "What is truth?" My opinion only, but I'm inclined to believe TRUTH exists in a single form. It is the interpretation each of us puts on the phenomena that we witness that varies. The story about the six blind men and the elephant is all too true.
The basic failure mode is that people with little experience of life are depending on a bunch of folks who can't remember what they had for breakfast for information as to happenings fifty to sixty years back. Being in that class, I am aware that some things experienced half a century ago can be crystal clear in hindsight. I must admit, though, in my own case, the clear chunks are disjointed in time. Some things stay with you for better or worse (the first deer you killed or the first man). These memories are hard and sharp, sometimes jumping out at you like a jack-in-the-box when you least expect it. But, most of the time, the things between are a blur. Most of life just isn't that interesting and the mind tends to dump such memories. Try this, think way back to yesterday morning when you were driving. Call up the memory and replay it looking at the details. Yeah, what details? For most people they aren't there--you may remember leaving your home and possibly your arrival at your destination but most of the trip (with the exception of the idiot cutting you off as you were cutting him off) most likely isn't there. Women tend to maintain their memories are better than men's of things of years gone by. Possibly this is true--equally possible is that the gentlemen involved don't look forward to a night of torture on that rack known as the couch. The song, "Yes, I remember it well," from Gigi pokes fun at this.
Cops know the longer between the incident and the interview, the more garbage shows up in the statement. And this is with witnesses who want to help. When looking at witness statements, often the best they can do is seek a quorum. Everybody saw something different or remembers it differently and are telling the truth as they know it. Akira Kurosawa explores this in his movie, "Rashomon," with it's story of a crime seen from four different people's perspectives. The investigators usually end up going with the details most appear to agree on and what in the officers' experience seems likely.
The reliability of oral history tends to be uneven. Some things related are close to fact while others launch into fiction. Cross-checking is necessary to back up an account. This requires other witnesses and documentation. Then it has to be run through the researcher's B.S. detector--does it add up? B.S. detectors become better with life experience. They can also fail unexpectedly. As an example, a retired Marine Raider officer once mentioned to me that the Raiders had British Commonwealth made Boys 55 mm antitank rifles at Guadalcanal. Huh? U.S. Marines equipped with Brit antitank weapons?! Happily, I treated the situation as I do most with my fellow humans--just nod, keep smiling, and make sure your escape route is clear. A couple of months later, I'm deep into research and what do I find referenced in two different places backed up by a photograph? Yeah, you guessed it--Raiders carrying Boys guns on Guadalcanal.
If you're using oral histories in your research, be sure to cross-check them. They can be a gold mine or the county dump.
29 January 2010: Feast of St. Aquilinus of Bavaria. "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe is published 1845, American League founded in Philadelphia 1900, USS Missouri (BB 63) commissioned 1944, Hungary recognizes South Korea - first in Warsaw Pact 1989.
I've been doing history for a short while (when you tend to think in millennia, half a century is chump-change) and the more I do it, the more I get the feeling we're being kidded sometimes.
One of the big deals at the moment is "oral history." This usually seems to involve a senior high school student or college undergrad pestering old farts for the story of how things were when said old fart was about their age. Nothing wrong with this. It keeps the kids out of beer joints and gives the ancients a visitor and something to pass the time. The only problem is when the history that comes from this source is distributed as the GOSPEL TRUTH without being checked against reality (whatever that is).
I realize there are those who maintain all truth is relative. As a certain Roman bureaucrat asked a little while ago, "What is truth?" My opinion only, but I'm inclined to believe TRUTH exists in a single form. It is the interpretation each of us puts on the phenomena that we witness that varies. The story about the six blind men and the elephant is all too true.
The basic failure mode is that people with little experience of life are depending on a bunch of folks who can't remember what they had for breakfast for information as to happenings fifty to sixty years back. Being in that class, I am aware that some things experienced half a century ago can be crystal clear in hindsight. I must admit, though, in my own case, the clear chunks are disjointed in time. Some things stay with you for better or worse (the first deer you killed or the first man). These memories are hard and sharp, sometimes jumping out at you like a jack-in-the-box when you least expect it. But, most of the time, the things between are a blur. Most of life just isn't that interesting and the mind tends to dump such memories. Try this, think way back to yesterday morning when you were driving. Call up the memory and replay it looking at the details. Yeah, what details? For most people they aren't there--you may remember leaving your home and possibly your arrival at your destination but most of the trip (with the exception of the idiot cutting you off as you were cutting him off) most likely isn't there. Women tend to maintain their memories are better than men's of things of years gone by. Possibly this is true--equally possible is that the gentlemen involved don't look forward to a night of torture on that rack known as the couch. The song, "Yes, I remember it well," from Gigi pokes fun at this.
Cops know the longer between the incident and the interview, the more garbage shows up in the statement. And this is with witnesses who want to help. When looking at witness statements, often the best they can do is seek a quorum. Everybody saw something different or remembers it differently and are telling the truth as they know it. Akira Kurosawa explores this in his movie, "Rashomon," with it's story of a crime seen from four different people's perspectives. The investigators usually end up going with the details most appear to agree on and what in the officers' experience seems likely.
The reliability of oral history tends to be uneven. Some things related are close to fact while others launch into fiction. Cross-checking is necessary to back up an account. This requires other witnesses and documentation. Then it has to be run through the researcher's B.S. detector--does it add up? B.S. detectors become better with life experience. They can also fail unexpectedly. As an example, a retired Marine Raider officer once mentioned to me that the Raiders had British Commonwealth made Boys 55 mm antitank rifles at Guadalcanal. Huh? U.S. Marines equipped with Brit antitank weapons?! Happily, I treated the situation as I do most with my fellow humans--just nod, keep smiling, and make sure your escape route is clear. A couple of months later, I'm deep into research and what do I find referenced in two different places backed up by a photograph? Yeah, you guessed it--Raiders carrying Boys guns on Guadalcanal.
If you're using oral histories in your research, be sure to cross-check them. They can be a gold mine or the county dump.
29 January 2010: Feast of St. Aquilinus of Bavaria. "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe is published 1845, American League founded in Philadelphia 1900, USS Missouri (BB 63) commissioned 1944, Hungary recognizes South Korea - first in Warsaw Pact 1989.
Odds and ends mostly.
A voice from the past:
"God damn all mathematics to the lowest depts. (sic) of hell!! May it be capable of bodily suffering & undergo such torments that the veriest fiend in hell shall shrink in horror at the sight."
Scribbled in a West Point calculus book apparently by a cadet sometime between 1832 and 1850. In Cavalryman of the Lost Cause: A Biography of J.E.B. Stuart. Jeffry D. Wert. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2008. Kindle.
Who sez soldiers are devoid of religious hope?
Catholic Writers Conference Online
Registration for Free Catholic Writers Conference Online Ends Feb 15
World Wide Web--Are you a Catholic writer? Looking for an opportunity to learn more about writing and marketing, a chance to meet like-minded authors, and get an opportunity to pitch your work? Want it all for free--and without leaving your home? The Catholic Writers' Conference Online, which will be held February 26-March 5, 2010, is for you. Hurry, though--registration ends Feb 15.
The conference is held via chats and forums at http://www.catholicwritersconference.com . Sponsored by the Catholic Writer's Guild, the online conference is free of charge and open to writers of all level who register before February 15, 2010.
"Each year, we have about 300 writers and around 50 presenters participate," said organizer Karina Fabian. "This year, we're thrilled to have added small-group critique sessions with well-established authors and editors, plus more pitch sessions than ever before!"
Publishers hearing pitches include well known Catholic publishers like Pauline Books and Media, large Christian publishers like Thomas Nelson, and small secular presses like White Rose. Thus far, eleven pitch sessions are scheduled, running gamut from Christian romance to Catholic theology.
In a new program, dozens of attendees will have the opportunity to have pieces of their work critiqued by successful editors and writers. n addition, there will be forum-based workshops and chat room presentations covering topics from dialogue to freelancing to how Catholic fiction differs from Christian fiction.
"Even in good times, it's hard for writers to attend live conferences," said Fabian, "but this year, we think it's even more important to help careers by utilizing an online format. We're so grateful that our presenters are willing to share their time and talent."
Although the conference is offered free of charge, donations are accepted; proceeds will go toward future conferences. For a $10 donation, one receives a copy of the conference e-book containing chat transcripts, forum workshop posts, handouts or informational materials from the conference. Non-Catholics may attended, as long as they respect catholic beliefs and the conference's Catholic focus.
To register or for more information, go to http://www.catholicwritersconference.com
As a note, the Catholic Writers' Conference Online 2009 is that which began me writing once more after a hiatus of eighteen years (no doubt, there are those who may see this as an argument against the existence of the CWCO). For those worried that this is purely a collection of Mackerel-Snappers, a number of heavy-duty Protestant writers, editors, and publishers will be present and presenting. On the whole, we get along pretty well.
26 January 2010: Feast of St. Alberic the Cistercian. British First Fleet under Arthur Phillip establishes Sidney - Australia Day 1788, Hooker replaces Burnside 1863, The Mahdi takes Khartoum - "Chinese" Gordon killed 1885, Franco's Nationalists capture Barcelona 1939.
"God damn all mathematics to the lowest depts. (sic) of hell!! May it be capable of bodily suffering & undergo such torments that the veriest fiend in hell shall shrink in horror at the sight."
Scribbled in a West Point calculus book apparently by a cadet sometime between 1832 and 1850. In Cavalryman of the Lost Cause: A Biography of J.E.B. Stuart. Jeffry D. Wert. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2008. Kindle.
Who sez soldiers are devoid of religious hope?
Catholic Writers Conference Online
Registration for Free Catholic Writers Conference Online Ends Feb 15
World Wide Web--Are you a Catholic writer? Looking for an opportunity to learn more about writing and marketing, a chance to meet like-minded authors, and get an opportunity to pitch your work? Want it all for free--and without leaving your home? The Catholic Writers' Conference Online, which will be held February 26-March 5, 2010, is for you. Hurry, though--registration ends Feb 15.
The conference is held via chats and forums at http://www.catholicwritersconference.com . Sponsored by the Catholic Writer's Guild, the online conference is free of charge and open to writers of all level who register before February 15, 2010.
"Each year, we have about 300 writers and around 50 presenters participate," said organizer Karina Fabian. "This year, we're thrilled to have added small-group critique sessions with well-established authors and editors, plus more pitch sessions than ever before!"
Publishers hearing pitches include well known Catholic publishers like Pauline Books and Media, large Christian publishers like Thomas Nelson, and small secular presses like White Rose. Thus far, eleven pitch sessions are scheduled, running gamut from Christian romance to Catholic theology.
In a new program, dozens of attendees will have the opportunity to have pieces of their work critiqued by successful editors and writers. n addition, there will be forum-based workshops and chat room presentations covering topics from dialogue to freelancing to how Catholic fiction differs from Christian fiction.
"Even in good times, it's hard for writers to attend live conferences," said Fabian, "but this year, we think it's even more important to help careers by utilizing an online format. We're so grateful that our presenters are willing to share their time and talent."
Although the conference is offered free of charge, donations are accepted; proceeds will go toward future conferences. For a $10 donation, one receives a copy of the conference e-book containing chat transcripts, forum workshop posts, handouts or informational materials from the conference. Non-Catholics may attended, as long as they respect catholic beliefs and the conference's Catholic focus.
To register or for more information, go to http://www.catholicwritersconference.com
As a note, the Catholic Writers' Conference Online 2009 is that which began me writing once more after a hiatus of eighteen years (no doubt, there are those who may see this as an argument against the existence of the CWCO). For those worried that this is purely a collection of Mackerel-Snappers, a number of heavy-duty Protestant writers, editors, and publishers will be present and presenting. On the whole, we get along pretty well.
26 January 2010: Feast of St. Alberic the Cistercian. British First Fleet under Arthur Phillip establishes Sidney - Australia Day 1788, Hooker replaces Burnside 1863, The Mahdi takes Khartoum - "Chinese" Gordon killed 1885, Franco's Nationalists capture Barcelona 1939.
Son of a Gun! The Revolver.
"Alright. Company forward rant!"
I'm reading along, it's getting good, the writer's stuff is really flowing beautifully, the hero checks the clip in his revolver and--THUD!...Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Don't these people do ANY research?
For some reason known only to the All Mighty, there are a large number of writers out there in the outer darkness who apparently believe they can wing it when it comes to firearms. Rather than burn fifteen minutes online, they make fools of themselves. They will obsess about which train enters which station at a particular hour on Tuesdays and Fridays. They will have nine or ten books piled on their reference table covering the bloodlines of Yorkies. They will have maps of every town that they mention from Roman times to the present in New South Wales. But they will not Google or Yahoo search the word "revolver."
If these folks took the same care while writing about other things, their protagonist would walk out of her yurt, climb up on the fender of the Jugo, slide the canopy back, stick the hand crank in the instrument panel, and with brisk turn fire up its rocket motor.
Why is this? One friend is of the opinion that such writers are afraid of guns and can't bring themselves to think about these devices of the devil. Another postulates that they watch shows on TV and figure that teaches all they need to know (no doubt they also pick up tips on interpersonal relationships from the same shows). I'm told that my contention that they are feeble-minded or bone lazy is too harsh.
Just for my own piece of mind and to, hopefully, keep my blood pressure in check while reading in the future, I will be posting tips from time to time for the firearm-challenged in keyboard land.
Lesson 1: Revolvers
Revolvers do not have either "clips" or magazines. What they have are cylinders. The cartridges (not "bullets" or "shells") are loaded into the cylinder. Each time the hammer (the little lever sticking out the back above your hand) is cocked [single action] or the trigger is pulled [double action] the cylinder revolves (get it?) bringing a unfired round into line with the barrel and firing mechanism.
A cartridge, often called a "round," is composed of a bullet, a propelling charge (either black powder [old] or smokeless powder [modern]), and a cartridge casing (or shell casing). A primer in the base of the cartridge case is stuck by the firearm's firing pin and the propelling charge is set off causing the bullet to travel through the barrel and, after exiting said barrel, hopefully putting a hole in the designated bad guy.
Keep these rules in mind: A magazine holds cartridges. It can be internal (always part of the firearm) or it can be detachable (fits in a well on the firearm). A clip also holds cartridges and is usually pushed into a firearm's internal magazine and is either pulled out by the shooter or is kicked out when the last round is ejected.
Silencers and Revolvers:
You're watching a movie or show and you see the highly paid international assassin pull out a silencer and attach it to his revolver--CUT! Silencers (more properly called suppressors) don't work with revolvers. There is a gap between the front face of the cylinder and the rear end of the barrel. This gap will let the noise out when the revolver is fired even if equipped with a "silencer." For a suppressor to work properly, the action or mechanism must be closed when the cartridge is fired. There are such weapons as suppressed machine pistols. If the suppressor is new, one will hear little sound of the shot but there will be a noticeable chatter of the action operating as it ejects the fired cartridge casings. The whole point of a suppressor is not so much to silence the shot, but to make it sound like something other than a shot.
As a note, during the Vietnam War, two weapons that were nearly silent were issued to U.S. forces.
One was, indeed, a revolver made for the use of tunnel rats. The guys going down in VC holes had a problem with using the U.S. military's standard semi-automatic (fires one round each time the trigger is pulled) .45 caliber M1911A1 pistol. Fire one time in the dark and enclosed places and, between the noise and muzzle flash, you hear and see nothing for a while--not a good feeling. A revolver design was chosen because it is inherently more reliable and idiot-proof than a semi-automatic. The revolver that was issued on a limited basis was made so the cartridge casing actually sealed against the end of the barrel. No muzzle flash and little noise.
The other was a suppressed .22 caliber pistol called a "hush-puppy" issued to the SEALs for neutralizing guard dogs and sentries (DoD sometimes displays a fetish for non-loaded terms like "neutralizing"--as in "We neutralized the guy with three 30 millimeter rounds; then graves registration showed up to take care of the body with a sponge.").
There now, I feel much better. That should hold me until the next time.
19 January 2010: Feast of St. Wulfstan of Worcester, Henry V captures Rouen 1419, San Agustin Church completed in Manila 1607, Capt. Charles Wilks USN circumnavigates Antarctica 1840, Prussians defeat French in Battle of St. Quentin 1871.
I'm reading along, it's getting good, the writer's stuff is really flowing beautifully, the hero checks the clip in his revolver and--THUD!...Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Don't these people do ANY research?
For some reason known only to the All Mighty, there are a large number of writers out there in the outer darkness who apparently believe they can wing it when it comes to firearms. Rather than burn fifteen minutes online, they make fools of themselves. They will obsess about which train enters which station at a particular hour on Tuesdays and Fridays. They will have nine or ten books piled on their reference table covering the bloodlines of Yorkies. They will have maps of every town that they mention from Roman times to the present in New South Wales. But they will not Google or Yahoo search the word "revolver."
If these folks took the same care while writing about other things, their protagonist would walk out of her yurt, climb up on the fender of the Jugo, slide the canopy back, stick the hand crank in the instrument panel, and with brisk turn fire up its rocket motor.
Why is this? One friend is of the opinion that such writers are afraid of guns and can't bring themselves to think about these devices of the devil. Another postulates that they watch shows on TV and figure that teaches all they need to know (no doubt they also pick up tips on interpersonal relationships from the same shows). I'm told that my contention that they are feeble-minded or bone lazy is too harsh.
Just for my own piece of mind and to, hopefully, keep my blood pressure in check while reading in the future, I will be posting tips from time to time for the firearm-challenged in keyboard land.
Lesson 1: Revolvers
Revolvers do not have either "clips" or magazines. What they have are cylinders. The cartridges (not "bullets" or "shells") are loaded into the cylinder. Each time the hammer (the little lever sticking out the back above your hand) is cocked [single action] or the trigger is pulled [double action] the cylinder revolves (get it?) bringing a unfired round into line with the barrel and firing mechanism.
A cartridge, often called a "round," is composed of a bullet, a propelling charge (either black powder [old] or smokeless powder [modern]), and a cartridge casing (or shell casing). A primer in the base of the cartridge case is stuck by the firearm's firing pin and the propelling charge is set off causing the bullet to travel through the barrel and, after exiting said barrel, hopefully putting a hole in the designated bad guy.
Keep these rules in mind: A magazine holds cartridges. It can be internal (always part of the firearm) or it can be detachable (fits in a well on the firearm). A clip also holds cartridges and is usually pushed into a firearm's internal magazine and is either pulled out by the shooter or is kicked out when the last round is ejected.
Silencers and Revolvers:
You're watching a movie or show and you see the highly paid international assassin pull out a silencer and attach it to his revolver--CUT! Silencers (more properly called suppressors) don't work with revolvers. There is a gap between the front face of the cylinder and the rear end of the barrel. This gap will let the noise out when the revolver is fired even if equipped with a "silencer." For a suppressor to work properly, the action or mechanism must be closed when the cartridge is fired. There are such weapons as suppressed machine pistols. If the suppressor is new, one will hear little sound of the shot but there will be a noticeable chatter of the action operating as it ejects the fired cartridge casings. The whole point of a suppressor is not so much to silence the shot, but to make it sound like something other than a shot.
As a note, during the Vietnam War, two weapons that were nearly silent were issued to U.S. forces.
One was, indeed, a revolver made for the use of tunnel rats. The guys going down in VC holes had a problem with using the U.S. military's standard semi-automatic (fires one round each time the trigger is pulled) .45 caliber M1911A1 pistol. Fire one time in the dark and enclosed places and, between the noise and muzzle flash, you hear and see nothing for a while--not a good feeling. A revolver design was chosen because it is inherently more reliable and idiot-proof than a semi-automatic. The revolver that was issued on a limited basis was made so the cartridge casing actually sealed against the end of the barrel. No muzzle flash and little noise.
The other was a suppressed .22 caliber pistol called a "hush-puppy" issued to the SEALs for neutralizing guard dogs and sentries (DoD sometimes displays a fetish for non-loaded terms like "neutralizing"--as in "We neutralized the guy with three 30 millimeter rounds; then graves registration showed up to take care of the body with a sponge.").
There now, I feel much better. That should hold me until the next time.
19 January 2010: Feast of St. Wulfstan of Worcester, Henry V captures Rouen 1419, San Agustin Church completed in Manila 1607, Capt. Charles Wilks USN circumnavigates Antarctica 1840, Prussians defeat French in Battle of St. Quentin 1871.
The Joy of Archetypes.
The other day, my first born IMed me a URL from her computer downstairs. Nothing out of the ordinary there. I clicked on it and found myself looking at me. Well, a pen and ink version of me anyway. Same "birth control" glasses, beard, pocket full of pencils, pot belly, unfashionable clothes, and bemused look (okay, in my case it's more of a thousand mile stare). It seems this is a portrait of the archetypical strategy gamer from an online gamers' comic.
It's interesting; I never thought of myself matching an archetype. I always figured the Lord took one look at me, broke the mold, burnt the blueprints, and blew up the factory.
Archetypes are a part of writing in which something, a personality for instance, stands as a symbol for all such personalities having the same features. Psychiatrist Carl Jung described the idea of archetypes but mythologist Joseph Campbell popularized them with his description of the "Hero's Journey" in The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Story tellers have used archetypes as long as there have been stories. Humans are apparently hard-wired to recognize archetypes. Aesop's tortoise and hare are archetypes. Plautus' stock characters, Pseudolus, Senex, and Miles Gloriosus [see "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum" below] are archetypes. John Ford and John Wayne dealt in archetypes. In our own time, Luke, Han, Obi Wan, Varder, in fact every character in Star Wars is an archetype that comes from the Hero's Journey, as does the plot of "Star Wars IV: A New Hope" (for my part, The Hero with a Thousand Faces is one the of the few books I'd like seen burned, though only in southern California--with the success of the first Star Wars movie, every hack in Hollywood ran out and bought a copy and writes scripts by just plugging names into the Hero's Journey and mixing and matching time periods and genres).
Archetypes can be used as a form of literary short hand, though best with restraint. When every general is crazed with blood lust, every politician is venal, every holy man is either a saint or the devil incarnate, or every member of a minority is the salt of the earth, archetypes become a cracked crutch for lousy writing.
For those of us who attempt to write humor though, archetypes can be a gift. When the audience detects an archetype they are predisposed to expect certain characteristics. This allows the writer to set them up for the gag and then jerk the rug out from under them. That the evil galactic overlord (is there any other kind?) wants kittens on his new charge card is what makes the commercial memorable. If you do it right, the audience gets a slight case of mental whiplash. Vaudevillians from Plautus to Eddy Foy to Monty Python have made a living off of this for a couple of thousand years.
Like most good workmen, writers need to learn to use these tools in the right situations. That way, there are fewer barked knuckles around the keyboard.
Review: (Note to FTC: I bought this dang DVD myself!)
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. MGM. 1 hour 37 minutes.
This is one of my guilty pleasures (like Larry the Cable Guy until he runs me out of the room). As Zero Mostel sings at the opening of Stephen Sondheim's take on Plautus, "Something appealing. Something appalling. Something for everyone...a comedy tonight!"
"A Funny Thing" is an updating of two of Plautus' better plays, "Pseudolus" and "Miles Gloriosus." Zero Mostel plays the part of Pseudolus, slave in the household of Senex and his lovely wife, Dominia (I had to write that, she had a dagger at my throat), residents of "a less fashionable suburb of Rome." Pseudolus can best be described by eavesdropping on a tavern converstation between procurer Marcus Lycus (Phil Silvers) and Crassus (Jon Pertwee),a newly arrived ship's captain:
Lycus: "He did it to me again!"
Captain: "Who?"
Lycus: The dirtiest, conviving-est, lying-est, thieving-est, crookedest, most underhanded slave in all of Rome!"
Captain: "Oh, you mean Pseudolus."
Basically, Pseudolus hatches a plot to gain his freedom that involves Hero (Michael Crawford), the son of Senex, an attempted dirty old man (Michael Hordern), head slave Hysterium (Jack Gilford), Domina (Patricia Jessel), Senex's frightening wife, Philia (Annette Andre), a rather confused virgin and love interest of both father and son, Erronius (Buster Keaton in his last role) as the dim-visioned slightly punch-drunk retired gladiator next door, Marcus Lycus and his emporium on the other side, and a legion led by Miles Gloriosus (Leon Greene), the man who raped Thrace thrice.
The movie is the epitome of low comedy with its one-liners, double ententes, pratfalls, misdirection, puns, and chases. From this, you might, maybe get the feeling I like it.
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum is rated A-III (adults) by the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops: http://www.usccb.org/
15 January 2010: Feast of St. Ceolwulf of Lindisfame, Nebuchadnezzar II besieges Jerusalem 588 BC, Britsh Museum opens 1759, 21 killed in Boston Molasses Disaster 1919, Pentagon dedicated 1943.
It's interesting; I never thought of myself matching an archetype. I always figured the Lord took one look at me, broke the mold, burnt the blueprints, and blew up the factory.
Archetypes are a part of writing in which something, a personality for instance, stands as a symbol for all such personalities having the same features. Psychiatrist Carl Jung described the idea of archetypes but mythologist Joseph Campbell popularized them with his description of the "Hero's Journey" in The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Story tellers have used archetypes as long as there have been stories. Humans are apparently hard-wired to recognize archetypes. Aesop's tortoise and hare are archetypes. Plautus' stock characters, Pseudolus, Senex, and Miles Gloriosus [see "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum" below] are archetypes. John Ford and John Wayne dealt in archetypes. In our own time, Luke, Han, Obi Wan, Varder, in fact every character in Star Wars is an archetype that comes from the Hero's Journey, as does the plot of "Star Wars IV: A New Hope" (for my part, The Hero with a Thousand Faces is one the of the few books I'd like seen burned, though only in southern California--with the success of the first Star Wars movie, every hack in Hollywood ran out and bought a copy and writes scripts by just plugging names into the Hero's Journey and mixing and matching time periods and genres).
Archetypes can be used as a form of literary short hand, though best with restraint. When every general is crazed with blood lust, every politician is venal, every holy man is either a saint or the devil incarnate, or every member of a minority is the salt of the earth, archetypes become a cracked crutch for lousy writing.
For those of us who attempt to write humor though, archetypes can be a gift. When the audience detects an archetype they are predisposed to expect certain characteristics. This allows the writer to set them up for the gag and then jerk the rug out from under them. That the evil galactic overlord (is there any other kind?) wants kittens on his new charge card is what makes the commercial memorable. If you do it right, the audience gets a slight case of mental whiplash. Vaudevillians from Plautus to Eddy Foy to Monty Python have made a living off of this for a couple of thousand years.
Like most good workmen, writers need to learn to use these tools in the right situations. That way, there are fewer barked knuckles around the keyboard.
Review: (Note to FTC: I bought this dang DVD myself!)
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. MGM. 1 hour 37 minutes.
This is one of my guilty pleasures (like Larry the Cable Guy until he runs me out of the room). As Zero Mostel sings at the opening of Stephen Sondheim's take on Plautus, "Something appealing. Something appalling. Something for everyone...a comedy tonight!"
"A Funny Thing" is an updating of two of Plautus' better plays, "Pseudolus" and "Miles Gloriosus." Zero Mostel plays the part of Pseudolus, slave in the household of Senex and his lovely wife, Dominia (I had to write that, she had a dagger at my throat), residents of "a less fashionable suburb of Rome." Pseudolus can best be described by eavesdropping on a tavern converstation between procurer Marcus Lycus (Phil Silvers) and Crassus (Jon Pertwee),a newly arrived ship's captain:
Lycus: "He did it to me again!"
Captain: "Who?"
Lycus: The dirtiest, conviving-est, lying-est, thieving-est, crookedest, most underhanded slave in all of Rome!"
Captain: "Oh, you mean Pseudolus."
Basically, Pseudolus hatches a plot to gain his freedom that involves Hero (Michael Crawford), the son of Senex, an attempted dirty old man (Michael Hordern), head slave Hysterium (Jack Gilford), Domina (Patricia Jessel), Senex's frightening wife, Philia (Annette Andre), a rather confused virgin and love interest of both father and son, Erronius (Buster Keaton in his last role) as the dim-visioned slightly punch-drunk retired gladiator next door, Marcus Lycus and his emporium on the other side, and a legion led by Miles Gloriosus (Leon Greene), the man who raped Thrace thrice.
The movie is the epitome of low comedy with its one-liners, double ententes, pratfalls, misdirection, puns, and chases. From this, you might, maybe get the feeling I like it.
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum is rated A-III (adults) by the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops: http://www.usccb.org/
15 January 2010: Feast of St. Ceolwulf of Lindisfame, Nebuchadnezzar II besieges Jerusalem 588 BC, Britsh Museum opens 1759, 21 killed in Boston Molasses Disaster 1919, Pentagon dedicated 1943.
An Ersatz Answer to All.
Science is a funny way to waste time. Like many disciplines it sometimes appears to advance through a form scientific Oedipus complex. One often advances by attacking the thought of the mentor who taught one. As soon as the top is reached and one trains the next generation, the trainee begins the climb to supplant the teacher.
One of the sure methods is to build on the mentor's work to come up with a hypothesis that better describes an observed phenomenon than that of the teacher's. Hopefully, the hypothesis works well enough to be accepted by most of one's fellows and take on the status of a theory. If the theory is perceived to provide a lasting solution to a question, it can become a "law," often named for its originator.
Like a parent, the originator of a theory can fall in love with the fruit of their loins--er, mind. Their wondrous idea can be "The Answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything!" It is tried as the answer to any number of problems, whether it has anything in common or not. As the old saw goes, "If one has a hammer, all things look like nails."
What results is the one-size-fits-nobody sort of answer--rather like the cheap one-size-fits-nobody baseball-style caps the Koreans flooded the market with back in the early 80s. While billed as one-size-fits-all, these sartorial disasters must have been wrongly transshipped to Earth instead of their proper destination of Tau Ceti IV as they were apparently designed to fit no human head. At the very best, the over-high crown tended to make those wearing them look like noted sportsman Elmer Fudd.
The search for the "Unified Law" so far has been science's version of that for the Holy Grail or, more probably, the philosopher's stone. Who says science isn't a matter of faith? Stay tuned.
Review: (Note to FTC: I bought this danged book myself!)
Storm Front: a Novel of the Dresden Files. Jim Butcher. New york: ROC, 2000.
Coming up with a consistent magic system is one of the things that separates the better fantasy from the good. One of the joys of Harry Dresden's art is that there is a feel of consistency as he works through his incantations and uses his ingredients. Rather than the occasional shift of the method that appears in Rowling for instance, Butcher has, so far, stuck to one apparent system in the two volumes I've read (according to the ladies of the house, this holds true throughout his series).
Harry Dresden, based in a less corrupt Chicago (obviously a different dimension), has the charm of the eternal schlub. No matter what happens to this spell-slinging Sam Spade, you know for him, just getting out with a mostly intact skin is victory. It's a cinch he'll never make the big score and retire to Orlando.
While eeking out a living as a wizard for hire (okay, a "consulting" wizard then), he gets to work on the City's tab just enough to keep from starving. His contact, Sgt. Karrin Murphy, head of the Chicago Police Department's Special Investigations Division (think of a "file 13" for anything that doesn't add up on a material plane) is a tough cop's tough cop and, unlike Agent Scully, admits there are things going on she doesn't understand. Harry's version of the Encyclopedia Arkainia, Bob, is an spirit of the air who resides in a human skull (the previous owner doesn't need it anymore) and when not reeling off lists of ingredients, cooking times, and health warnings--generally about Harry's--is a thorough going letch (as opposed to a litch).
I've only read the first two volumes of the series, Storm Front and Fool Moon, but can say, so far, these are keepers. In fact, I'm a little impatient to get through Lee's Lieutenants [mentioned last time] so I can start on number 3, Grave Peril, which awaits on my Kindle (as of this writing, Harry's lamentable effect on technology newer than 1231 A.D. hasn't manifested itself with my Kindle).
A word about Harry's moral place in the world; like most protagonists in mainline fiction, he is vaguely good to neutral. While Murphy is mostly a believer, Harry is controlled more by a fear of the White Council's reaction to him doing anything untoward magically. In fact, Morgan, their slightly mad enforcer, lusts for the day Harry puts a foot wrong and he gets to execute him (it's hard to not to like a guy who enjoys his work so). Comparing him to the evil he fights, Harry is--to use a phrase of an actor/anthropologist from Betelgeuse--"Mostly harmless."
Catholic Writers Conference Online: 26 February to 5 March 2010
A wise gentleman dressed in green once explained to me that if one wants to do something well, one must learn the drill. Here is a free chance to learn the manual of arms for writers--logical construction, plot, characterization, dialogue, grammar, voice, marketing, making contacts, and pitching--and meet and have fun with fellow writers. All of good will are welcome. Here's the link: http://www.catholicwritersconference.com/index.php .
I'll save you a virtual seat.
12 January 2010: Feast of St. Zoticus of Africa Proconsularis, Basiliscus crowned Byzantine Emperor 475, Royal Aeronautical Society founded in London 1866, Hattie W. Caraway first female U.S. Senator 1932, Biafra surrenders 1970.
One of the sure methods is to build on the mentor's work to come up with a hypothesis that better describes an observed phenomenon than that of the teacher's. Hopefully, the hypothesis works well enough to be accepted by most of one's fellows and take on the status of a theory. If the theory is perceived to provide a lasting solution to a question, it can become a "law," often named for its originator.
Like a parent, the originator of a theory can fall in love with the fruit of their loins--er, mind. Their wondrous idea can be "The Answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything!" It is tried as the answer to any number of problems, whether it has anything in common or not. As the old saw goes, "If one has a hammer, all things look like nails."
What results is the one-size-fits-nobody sort of answer--rather like the cheap one-size-fits-nobody baseball-style caps the Koreans flooded the market with back in the early 80s. While billed as one-size-fits-all, these sartorial disasters must have been wrongly transshipped to Earth instead of their proper destination of Tau Ceti IV as they were apparently designed to fit no human head. At the very best, the over-high crown tended to make those wearing them look like noted sportsman Elmer Fudd.
The search for the "Unified Law" so far has been science's version of that for the Holy Grail or, more probably, the philosopher's stone. Who says science isn't a matter of faith? Stay tuned.
Review: (Note to FTC: I bought this danged book myself!)
Storm Front: a Novel of the Dresden Files. Jim Butcher. New york: ROC, 2000.
Coming up with a consistent magic system is one of the things that separates the better fantasy from the good. One of the joys of Harry Dresden's art is that there is a feel of consistency as he works through his incantations and uses his ingredients. Rather than the occasional shift of the method that appears in Rowling for instance, Butcher has, so far, stuck to one apparent system in the two volumes I've read (according to the ladies of the house, this holds true throughout his series).
Harry Dresden, based in a less corrupt Chicago (obviously a different dimension), has the charm of the eternal schlub. No matter what happens to this spell-slinging Sam Spade, you know for him, just getting out with a mostly intact skin is victory. It's a cinch he'll never make the big score and retire to Orlando.
While eeking out a living as a wizard for hire (okay, a "consulting" wizard then), he gets to work on the City's tab just enough to keep from starving. His contact, Sgt. Karrin Murphy, head of the Chicago Police Department's Special Investigations Division (think of a "file 13" for anything that doesn't add up on a material plane) is a tough cop's tough cop and, unlike Agent Scully, admits there are things going on she doesn't understand. Harry's version of the Encyclopedia Arkainia, Bob, is an spirit of the air who resides in a human skull (the previous owner doesn't need it anymore) and when not reeling off lists of ingredients, cooking times, and health warnings--generally about Harry's--is a thorough going letch (as opposed to a litch).
I've only read the first two volumes of the series, Storm Front and Fool Moon, but can say, so far, these are keepers. In fact, I'm a little impatient to get through Lee's Lieutenants [mentioned last time] so I can start on number 3, Grave Peril, which awaits on my Kindle (as of this writing, Harry's lamentable effect on technology newer than 1231 A.D. hasn't manifested itself with my Kindle).
A word about Harry's moral place in the world; like most protagonists in mainline fiction, he is vaguely good to neutral. While Murphy is mostly a believer, Harry is controlled more by a fear of the White Council's reaction to him doing anything untoward magically. In fact, Morgan, their slightly mad enforcer, lusts for the day Harry puts a foot wrong and he gets to execute him (it's hard to not to like a guy who enjoys his work so). Comparing him to the evil he fights, Harry is--to use a phrase of an actor/anthropologist from Betelgeuse--"Mostly harmless."
Catholic Writers Conference Online: 26 February to 5 March 2010
A wise gentleman dressed in green once explained to me that if one wants to do something well, one must learn the drill. Here is a free chance to learn the manual of arms for writers--logical construction, plot, characterization, dialogue, grammar, voice, marketing, making contacts, and pitching--and meet and have fun with fellow writers. All of good will are welcome. Here's the link: http://www.catholicwritersconference.com/index.php .
I'll save you a virtual seat.
12 January 2010: Feast of St. Zoticus of Africa Proconsularis, Basiliscus crowned Byzantine Emperor 475, Royal Aeronautical Society founded in London 1866, Hattie W. Caraway first female U.S. Senator 1932, Biafra surrenders 1970.
...tenth, eleventh...Oh yeah, Twelfth Night!
Twelfth Night marks the last of the twelve days of Christmas (no, you heathen, they don't lead up to Christmas--that's Advent). Earlier today, the UPS guy delivers the last box of the twelve gifts your true love gives to you--hopefully charged to his card rather than yours. Your next move is to figure out what your going to do with twelve drummers drumming (as opposed to twelve lords aleaping--if the Brits want to get rid of them that bad, they can ship them to the Falklands).
In civilized places, there's a major blowout involving the Wassail bowl, shoe, canteen cup--whatever holds liquids--while the rosca de reyes or king cake is being baked for tomorrow (which probably explains how beans, coins, Baby Jesus figures, or whatnot end up in them--next year, keep Uncle Julio the heck away from the Wassail bowl or at least brace him and disarm him of the tequila bottle). Tonight before you hit the rack, don't forget to put one shoe filled with hay out for the Wise Men's camels, donkeys, water buffaloes, riding iguanas, or what have you. For tomorrow is Epiphany, Dia de Reyes, or Fastnacht.
In the less civilized places like were my folks come from, there is Berchtenlaufen. This is when several hundred young guys run through the streets cracking whips and ringing bells to chase evil spirits out of town--apparently said spirits are still hungover from the preceding twelve days of festivities. In even less civilized places, such activities mean your team won the championship.
Also, it's bad luck to leave Christmas decorations up after Twelfth Night (this is an update from Candlemas--2 February). A bosun's mate and his family I know seem to live to a rather different calendar. About All Saints, the lights go up and, a week after Easter, they come down. I must admit through, for those five months, the turkey, manger, and rabbit in their front yard make for one heck of a landmark when you're trying to give someone directions (people going from one end of Quantico to the other have been detoured via the Naval Weapons base just so it could be used).
It's also the name of a pretty decent play by some guy named Shakespeare.
Over the Fence
I received another letter from Homer Smute, the world's oldest minor league baseball player, the other day.
Homer:
The problem with living in the fast lane is you know what you did because of the bills, alimony, palimony, child support, community service, fines and jail time. But you can't remember the fun you had doing it.
I got to admit that Mitch Groengras. the Busters' grounds keeper is no quitter. To keep the grass down, the management let people run their cows on the field. Of course, Mitch had to go around with a shovel before games. But the cows didn't keep the grass short enough, so they tried sheep. Well, this got the grass down to about the right level, but Mitch had to come in twice as early with his shovel before games. Tim Molesight, our Left fielder, told me this morning over coffee at Karina's Good 'nough Cafe that Mitch told management yesterday he'd start paying one of the farmers out of his own pocket to cut the grass with his tractor.
The only problem with turning your cap into a "rally cap" is not only is your team losing, but now you look stupid too.
As team logos go, the Stump Busters' ain't one of the most uplifting. Let's face it, a tree stump, no matter what you do to it, just don't sing.
Now the Washington Wild Things (Washington, PA) has one of the best I've seen.
Note: Homer asked me to put in a link to their website: http://www.washingtonwildthings.com/
I don't know how much longer the team can keep going. The younger guys keep leaving to go someplace where they got a better chance of advancement, like Dundalk.
Remember the Catholic Writers Conference Online
26 February to 5 March 2010.
Free registration at: http://www.catholicwritersconference.com/
5 January 2010: Feast of St. Convoyon, George Washington weds Martha Dandridge Custis 1759, Benedict Arnold commanding British naval forces burns Richmond, VA 1781, Alfred Dreyfus sentenced to Devil's Island 1895, Richard Nixon orders development of Space Shuttle 1972.
In civilized places, there's a major blowout involving the Wassail bowl, shoe, canteen cup--whatever holds liquids--while the rosca de reyes or king cake is being baked for tomorrow (which probably explains how beans, coins, Baby Jesus figures, or whatnot end up in them--next year, keep Uncle Julio the heck away from the Wassail bowl or at least brace him and disarm him of the tequila bottle). Tonight before you hit the rack, don't forget to put one shoe filled with hay out for the Wise Men's camels, donkeys, water buffaloes, riding iguanas, or what have you. For tomorrow is Epiphany, Dia de Reyes, or Fastnacht.
In the less civilized places like were my folks come from, there is Berchtenlaufen. This is when several hundred young guys run through the streets cracking whips and ringing bells to chase evil spirits out of town--apparently said spirits are still hungover from the preceding twelve days of festivities. In even less civilized places, such activities mean your team won the championship.
Also, it's bad luck to leave Christmas decorations up after Twelfth Night (this is an update from Candlemas--2 February). A bosun's mate and his family I know seem to live to a rather different calendar. About All Saints, the lights go up and, a week after Easter, they come down. I must admit through, for those five months, the turkey, manger, and rabbit in their front yard make for one heck of a landmark when you're trying to give someone directions (people going from one end of Quantico to the other have been detoured via the Naval Weapons base just so it could be used).
It's also the name of a pretty decent play by some guy named Shakespeare.
Over the Fence
I received another letter from Homer Smute, the world's oldest minor league baseball player, the other day.
Homer:
The problem with living in the fast lane is you know what you did because of the bills, alimony, palimony, child support, community service, fines and jail time. But you can't remember the fun you had doing it.
I got to admit that Mitch Groengras. the Busters' grounds keeper is no quitter. To keep the grass down, the management let people run their cows on the field. Of course, Mitch had to go around with a shovel before games. But the cows didn't keep the grass short enough, so they tried sheep. Well, this got the grass down to about the right level, but Mitch had to come in twice as early with his shovel before games. Tim Molesight, our Left fielder, told me this morning over coffee at Karina's Good 'nough Cafe that Mitch told management yesterday he'd start paying one of the farmers out of his own pocket to cut the grass with his tractor.
The only problem with turning your cap into a "rally cap" is not only is your team losing, but now you look stupid too.
As team logos go, the Stump Busters' ain't one of the most uplifting. Let's face it, a tree stump, no matter what you do to it, just don't sing.
Now the Washington Wild Things (Washington, PA) has one of the best I've seen.
Note: Homer asked me to put in a link to their website: http://www.washingtonwildthings.com/
I don't know how much longer the team can keep going. The younger guys keep leaving to go someplace where they got a better chance of advancement, like Dundalk.
Remember the Catholic Writers Conference Online
26 February to 5 March 2010.
Free registration at: http://www.catholicwritersconference.com/
5 January 2010: Feast of St. Convoyon, George Washington weds Martha Dandridge Custis 1759, Benedict Arnold commanding British naval forces burns Richmond, VA 1781, Alfred Dreyfus sentenced to Devil's Island 1895, Richard Nixon orders development of Space Shuttle 1972.
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