A couple of weeks ago, I finished the rough cut of my novel rewrite.
I'll assume that most readers of my blog haven't followed along with the trials and tribulations I've experienced with this project, so let me give you a quick recap. I wrote the original first draft in the year 2000. It was 519,100 words (roughly the size of Stephen King's unabridged The Stand). When I look back at that original, I judge the story to be good, but the writing to be amateur and bloated. I went through a long learning process. I split the book into three books to make it more palatable to editors. I reduced the total word count to 475,600 words. I let strangers read it and give me their honest reactions. I edited and polished it frequently. I submitted it to literary agents and publishers, and got one excited manuscript request (without a follow up) from a well-known agent, and one rewrite request from Baen Books.
As I became a better writer and learned the ways of the genre book industry, I realized (around 2004-2005) that my masterpiece needed a complete overhaul. So I set out to restructure it, to tighten the pacing and get rid of the bloat.
In order to focus on this huge task, I shoved aside my other writing goals and projects, many of them ideas which I was (and still am) excited about. I immersed myself in Thomas's and Alex's journey until I got sick of it. I reread my original epic in bits and pieces, then sliced it up and pasted the paragraphs into new places, and reread them, and slimmed them down, and changed details, and reread them again. I took notes on my own writing so I wouldn't forgot what I'd put where. I applied techniques I'd learned at the Odyssey Writing Workshop and since to my reborn novel. I gained more of a social life while I procrastinated facing this huge project every night. I gained a sense of the work involved in being a professional writer.
After all that, I won't know if my hard work paid off until years from now. I have a feeling that it will, but I've never trusted hunches or feelings. I only know that this confidence is highly unusual for me. Even though I'm sick of the project, I still look back and think it's good. I still get excited about it. I hear opinions from people who've read the first three chapters or more, and I hear good news. I don't think this is wishful thinking, since I've heard and given my share of harsh critiques. I can tell when readers genuinely like something.
But there's no immediate payoff. By now, everyone around me must think I'm a jack-off, just someone who creates endless busywork for herself and talks big. I know I'm not this person. When I started this rewrite, I knew I'd be in for a difficult journey, with a gamble for a payoff. I took the journey, gamble and all, because I believe in the power of my words. I'll market this book any way I can, because I see a fan following in its future. I'm fully aware that I may be self-deluded here, but I can't ignore the possibility that I'm right. Had I decided not to do the rewrite, I'd be second-guessing myself for the rest of my life, always wondering if it could have been the next major best-seller. What's the point of living if you don't take risks like this?
I combined the first two sections of my original and reduced the word count from 278,300 to 127,400 words. That's amazing. That means my total word count (including the original, unrewritten third section) is down to 324,700 ... and I'm positive that I can cut out another 100,000 words from that third section (it will be book 2 instead of book 3, now). The story didn't change. The characters are the same. Most of what I removed was excess description and wordage.
Is this new version much stronger than the original? I'm not sure. I wish I was. Parts of it are definitely improved. The whole is lighter and faster, with tons of excess wordage deleted, but I'm afraid I may have accidentally deleted crucial bits of character development and story pacing. I might have taken out the spice that gave it its bite. If it turns out that test readers respond with less enthusiasm than they did for the original, I'll try to fit the missing character development back in there without overinflating the word count.
But these are worries for later. Right now, I'm working on new material for the first time in two years. It's a short story!
Yay!!!!!
I absolutely needed the break. I needed to write something fresh before I forgot how a first draft feels. It's pure joy. And I also need a couple of months when I'm not thinking about slavery, snobby mind readers, and berserk giants who kill people.
In July, I'll return to the Yeresunsa universe and polish my rewrite. My goal is to have it readable by September 1st. Would you care to be a test reader this winter? Here's the synopsis!
Thanks for reading my blog.
May 25, 2007
Apr 17, 2007
The Blame Game
Against my good judgment, I'm going to blog about a current event.
I just went to a section of BBC.com where readers can post comments about the Virginia Tech shootings. As I scrolled through the comments, I saw a few condolences for the victims and survivors. I saw a lot of America-bashing and pro- and anti- gun control rants.
Why is it that when a tragedy makes world headlines, people IMMEDIATELY fling accusations and blame around? People seem unable to just sit and absorb the news. A disturbed man murdered 33 innocent students. This is not the fault of the students, the school faculty, the senators, the NRA, America, or TV and video games. It's the fault of the guy who locked students in a building and shot as many as possible. Please, assign blame where it's due. He deserves your anger. He's dead, but that doesn't make him any less guilty.
I just went to a section of BBC.com where readers can post comments about the Virginia Tech shootings. As I scrolled through the comments, I saw a few condolences for the victims and survivors. I saw a lot of America-bashing and pro- and anti- gun control rants.
Why is it that when a tragedy makes world headlines, people IMMEDIATELY fling accusations and blame around? People seem unable to just sit and absorb the news. A disturbed man murdered 33 innocent students. This is not the fault of the students, the school faculty, the senators, the NRA, America, or TV and video games. It's the fault of the guy who locked students in a building and shot as many as possible. Please, assign blame where it's due. He deserves your anger. He's dead, but that doesn't make him any less guilty.
Mar 20, 2007
Lake Tahoe and Squaw Valley
I went on a ski trip this weekend! It was St. Patrick's Day and the snow was melting, but we had a great time. Click the photo to see more.
Mar 7, 2007
Scott Smith's "The Ruins"
It's been a long time since a book made me so angry as the one I just finished.
I can't stop thinking about it, which I suppose is the sign of a successful author. And I finished it, which is usually a sign of enjoyment. I'm not compelled to finish books I hate. Yet I'm angry. I wouldn't recommend this one. I can't voice my criticism without giving spoilers, so brace yourselves. There's spoilers.
SPOILERS *** SPOILERS *** SPOILERS *** SPOILERS
This is a book about a man-eating vine. It sounds stupid, but it's surprisingly well written. This author has been compared to Stephen King, and I understand why: He can make you believe anything. Giant alien spiders that lure children into sewers? Sure. Sentient jungle plants? No problem. Scott Smith is one of those authors who brings you into the weirdness step by careful step, starting in the land of normalcy and ending in the land of lunacy. He takes you into the characters' heads in such an intimate way, you feel their terror, and their struggle with insanity as they try to comprehend the incomprehensible. This is Horror fiction.
But I felt like I was watching a train wreck. The self-absorbed idiocy of the characters had me wincing from the beginning. They harbor secret resentments towards each other. At first, I struggled to like them, because the quality of writing drew me in. They hiked into the jungle for a good reason, to find their buddy's missing brother. So what if they ignored all the classic signs of impending danger? I mean, if it were me, I would have turned back when the creepy truck driver said, "This is a bad place," and drove off in a hurry. But not everyone thinks like that.
When they became trapped on the vine-covered hilltop, surrounded by natives with pistols and arrows, I read breathlessly to find out how they would escape. They heard a cell phone ringing at the bottom of a mine-shaft. They decided to send someone down to find it. Did they check the rope? No. The rope had been sitting out in the weather for countless weeks, and no one bothered to uncoil it or test its strength. Of course, the rope broke, and we've got our first major injury. Pablo broke his spine. He's lying at the bottom of the shaft, screaming. What do the characters do? Well, they spend the entire rest of the day figuring out how to send someone else down there to bring Pablo up on a backboard. Meanwhile, they're rationing their water, the hilltop is littered with the skeletal remains of previous people who've died there, and they can't escape. WTF? I'd think they have bigger worries than the guy with a broken spine. He's already a goner. Yet the characters keep whining about how they need to get Pablo to a hospital, as if they have any way to accomplish this.
By that point (about 1/4 through the book), I knew these characters would die from terminal stupidity. Maybe Jeff, the relatively smart one who used to be an Eagle Scout, would survive. The women were annoyingly dumb. I can't stand how so many male authors write about survival situations with dumb, whiny female characters. Why not make one of the women competent? In fact, I think women are better suited to survive trauma than men. Also, resourceful characters are easier to like.
I wouldn't want any of these characters for friends. Let me tell you, this book terrified me on multiple levels. It works as a horror novel for all the good reasons. There's suspense, there's gore, there's tons of creepy scenes. And then there's the horrific idea of having to die with a group of idiots. What if you were trapped in a deadly survival situation, and your only companions want to drink tequila instead of planning a way to gather water when it rains? What if no one around you even thought about escape? What if you had to trust your life to their thoughtless non-vigilance? Scary! I get chills thinking about it. And Scott Smith made these characters very, very believable.
I came away from this book with fresh cynicism about humanity.
Before I wrap this up, I need to mention a few great ideas that never occurred to these characters. I wonder if they occured to the author.
1. My escape idea.
The natives keep watch day and night, and the vine makes an alarm noise if anyone tries to sneak past the sentries. But what about a diversion? Pablo, the guy with a broken back and hastily amputated legs, is shrieking in agony. They could drag him down the hill, let the natives shoot him to death, and flee while they're busy. Pablo would then die for a good cause instead of in vain. Okay, I'll concede that the natives might not fall for this diversion, or it may be too quick. But there's always victim #2: Eric. Eric is slowly bleeding to death from multiple self-inflicted wounds made with a dirty knife. By the second day, they all know he'll die without medical attention or food. He could martyr himself to save the rest of them. But no one thinks or suggests this idea. They discuss eating Amy's corpse on the third day, but they never discuss any practical escape attempt. Even Jeff, the former Eagle Scout, doesn't think of this. I hate them.
2. My communication idea.
The natives don't speak Spanish, which is why they were unable to warn travelers away. I don't buy this. The natives live in Mexico, and they obviously trade with Mexicans, because they have things like bicycles and T-shirts. At least one of them must speak enough Spanish to communicate. Jeff (who speaks high school level Spanish) should have tried communicating. Also, these natives are too cruel to be believed. They just let travelers wander into the vine, again and again, and hold them captive until they die. Why don't they flat-out kill them? Why do they waste resources by watching the travelers suffer in a long, drawn-out process? What if a little child or baby came with the travelers? Would an entire village--men, women, children--let a child die slowly like that? I don't believe these people.
3. My S.O.S. idea.
The vine yanks down any sign they put up. They find old S.O.S. signs hidden around the base of the hilltop, the sort of signs that might have warned them to keep away. But why don't they carve into the trunks of trees? That's what I'd do. If the vine covers their etchings, they could climb up and spend all day hacking off tree branches. That would leave some strange-looking trees, which might be enough to warn other innocent people to keep away. It might even be noticed if an airplane flies overhead.
4. My suicide idea.
Every character dies in a unique, tragic, gruesome way. By the third day, the remaining survivors (all three of them) know they're doomed. Eric skins himself alive because he's convinced the vine is inside him, Mathias gets stabbed in the heart, and the final survivor, Stacey, slits her wrists and bleeds to death. Why, oh WHY, don't any of them think to set the hilltop on fire??? They have a book of matches and a bottle of tequila. The vine recedes when it gets burnt. I'd say it's time for a Molotov cocktail and a forest fire. At least that way, they'll have saved future travelers from much pain and suffering.
Okay, I feel better now. Stay away from "The Ruins" unless you enjoy torture.
I can't stop thinking about it, which I suppose is the sign of a successful author. And I finished it, which is usually a sign of enjoyment. I'm not compelled to finish books I hate. Yet I'm angry. I wouldn't recommend this one. I can't voice my criticism without giving spoilers, so brace yourselves. There's spoilers.
SPOILERS *** SPOILERS *** SPOILERS *** SPOILERS
This is a book about a man-eating vine. It sounds stupid, but it's surprisingly well written. This author has been compared to Stephen King, and I understand why: He can make you believe anything. Giant alien spiders that lure children into sewers? Sure. Sentient jungle plants? No problem. Scott Smith is one of those authors who brings you into the weirdness step by careful step, starting in the land of normalcy and ending in the land of lunacy. He takes you into the characters' heads in such an intimate way, you feel their terror, and their struggle with insanity as they try to comprehend the incomprehensible. This is Horror fiction.
But I felt like I was watching a train wreck. The self-absorbed idiocy of the characters had me wincing from the beginning. They harbor secret resentments towards each other. At first, I struggled to like them, because the quality of writing drew me in. They hiked into the jungle for a good reason, to find their buddy's missing brother. So what if they ignored all the classic signs of impending danger? I mean, if it were me, I would have turned back when the creepy truck driver said, "This is a bad place," and drove off in a hurry. But not everyone thinks like that.
When they became trapped on the vine-covered hilltop, surrounded by natives with pistols and arrows, I read breathlessly to find out how they would escape. They heard a cell phone ringing at the bottom of a mine-shaft. They decided to send someone down to find it. Did they check the rope? No. The rope had been sitting out in the weather for countless weeks, and no one bothered to uncoil it or test its strength. Of course, the rope broke, and we've got our first major injury. Pablo broke his spine. He's lying at the bottom of the shaft, screaming. What do the characters do? Well, they spend the entire rest of the day figuring out how to send someone else down there to bring Pablo up on a backboard. Meanwhile, they're rationing their water, the hilltop is littered with the skeletal remains of previous people who've died there, and they can't escape. WTF? I'd think they have bigger worries than the guy with a broken spine. He's already a goner. Yet the characters keep whining about how they need to get Pablo to a hospital, as if they have any way to accomplish this.
By that point (about 1/4 through the book), I knew these characters would die from terminal stupidity. Maybe Jeff, the relatively smart one who used to be an Eagle Scout, would survive. The women were annoyingly dumb. I can't stand how so many male authors write about survival situations with dumb, whiny female characters. Why not make one of the women competent? In fact, I think women are better suited to survive trauma than men. Also, resourceful characters are easier to like.
I wouldn't want any of these characters for friends. Let me tell you, this book terrified me on multiple levels. It works as a horror novel for all the good reasons. There's suspense, there's gore, there's tons of creepy scenes. And then there's the horrific idea of having to die with a group of idiots. What if you were trapped in a deadly survival situation, and your only companions want to drink tequila instead of planning a way to gather water when it rains? What if no one around you even thought about escape? What if you had to trust your life to their thoughtless non-vigilance? Scary! I get chills thinking about it. And Scott Smith made these characters very, very believable.
I came away from this book with fresh cynicism about humanity.
Before I wrap this up, I need to mention a few great ideas that never occurred to these characters. I wonder if they occured to the author.
1. My escape idea.
The natives keep watch day and night, and the vine makes an alarm noise if anyone tries to sneak past the sentries. But what about a diversion? Pablo, the guy with a broken back and hastily amputated legs, is shrieking in agony. They could drag him down the hill, let the natives shoot him to death, and flee while they're busy. Pablo would then die for a good cause instead of in vain. Okay, I'll concede that the natives might not fall for this diversion, or it may be too quick. But there's always victim #2: Eric. Eric is slowly bleeding to death from multiple self-inflicted wounds made with a dirty knife. By the second day, they all know he'll die without medical attention or food. He could martyr himself to save the rest of them. But no one thinks or suggests this idea. They discuss eating Amy's corpse on the third day, but they never discuss any practical escape attempt. Even Jeff, the former Eagle Scout, doesn't think of this. I hate them.
2. My communication idea.
The natives don't speak Spanish, which is why they were unable to warn travelers away. I don't buy this. The natives live in Mexico, and they obviously trade with Mexicans, because they have things like bicycles and T-shirts. At least one of them must speak enough Spanish to communicate. Jeff (who speaks high school level Spanish) should have tried communicating. Also, these natives are too cruel to be believed. They just let travelers wander into the vine, again and again, and hold them captive until they die. Why don't they flat-out kill them? Why do they waste resources by watching the travelers suffer in a long, drawn-out process? What if a little child or baby came with the travelers? Would an entire village--men, women, children--let a child die slowly like that? I don't believe these people.
3. My S.O.S. idea.
The vine yanks down any sign they put up. They find old S.O.S. signs hidden around the base of the hilltop, the sort of signs that might have warned them to keep away. But why don't they carve into the trunks of trees? That's what I'd do. If the vine covers their etchings, they could climb up and spend all day hacking off tree branches. That would leave some strange-looking trees, which might be enough to warn other innocent people to keep away. It might even be noticed if an airplane flies overhead.
4. My suicide idea.
Every character dies in a unique, tragic, gruesome way. By the third day, the remaining survivors (all three of them) know they're doomed. Eric skins himself alive because he's convinced the vine is inside him, Mathias gets stabbed in the heart, and the final survivor, Stacey, slits her wrists and bleeds to death. Why, oh WHY, don't any of them think to set the hilltop on fire??? They have a book of matches and a bottle of tequila. The vine recedes when it gets burnt. I'd say it's time for a Molotov cocktail and a forest fire. At least that way, they'll have saved future travelers from much pain and suffering.
Okay, I feel better now. Stay away from "The Ruins" unless you enjoy torture.
Mar 3, 2007
My Blog's New Look
I'm not a programmer, so I decided to go with a quick and easy blog rather than hosting it directly on my website. Here it is! And here is a very lame post.
Nov 26, 2006
After the Turkey Day
I hope all you American readers had a happy Thanksgiving! Heck, I hope my blog actually HAS readers ... I really don't update it often enough to get any kind of following.
I will spare you the boring details of my actual Thanksgiving with mom, dad, aunt, & grandma. I stuck around for six days, and just before I flew back to L.A., I went to my ten year high school reunion. With trepidation. I was a shy, artsy loner in high school, and my way of coping with a misspent youth was to not remember much about it. Therefore, I was worried that I wouldn't remember or recognize anyone at the reunion. I decided to go because I keep in touch via email with a few friends from high school. I also had contact with a few more people from my class of 1996 via MySpace (isn't that site amazing?). I figured if nothing else, it would be cool to blog about the experience.
You know, I'm glad I went. I didn't invent Post-it notes or anything to brag about, but I found some cool people whom I never talked to when I was in high school. Maybe we never shared classes, or maybe I was too shy. In any case, it was like meeting them for the first time, in a setting where we all had something to talk about to break the ice. There were a few people whom I remembered being friendly with, and they were as nice as I'd remembered. And what about the so-called "popular kids", the cliques? They became ordinary. Or rather, I saw them as ordinary in a concrete way for the first time. Some seemed much nicer than I remembered, which I'm sure is an aspect of my memory and not a fundamental change in their personality. I was amused by how a few people were much taller or shorter than I remembered. I have no idea what happened there. As far as location goes, I was surprised by how many stayed in New Hampshire. It's a small enough state that the borders are never more than an hour's drive, maybe two hours. I was also surprised by how many from my class became teachers. I guess that shouldn't surprise me, since we were between Harvard and Dartmouth, and New England tends to be big on education. And ten years leaves a lot of room for marriage, so quite a few people showed up with bored spouses. A few high school sweethearts got married, some pairings that seemed strange to me. I wasn't the only single there, although I thought it skewed towards women. Oh well!
One of these days, I'm going to write an article about why I don't like New Hampshire. I mean no offense to those who like it. The things that I find repulsive (statewide headlines about a telephone pole getting knocked over, for instance) are the same things that attract people to that state, in ways I understand. But there can be no doubt that I exist more easily on the West coast. The people are different, the atmosphere is different, the climate, the houses, the terrain, the wildlife, the businesses, and everything is different. I think I'm happy for the reminder every once in a while. When I went to my high school reunion, I saw a few glints of the things that irritate me about people from my home town, and I sort of breathed a sigh of relief when I got on the plane.
I will spare you the boring details of my actual Thanksgiving with mom, dad, aunt, & grandma. I stuck around for six days, and just before I flew back to L.A., I went to my ten year high school reunion. With trepidation. I was a shy, artsy loner in high school, and my way of coping with a misspent youth was to not remember much about it. Therefore, I was worried that I wouldn't remember or recognize anyone at the reunion. I decided to go because I keep in touch via email with a few friends from high school. I also had contact with a few more people from my class of 1996 via MySpace (isn't that site amazing?). I figured if nothing else, it would be cool to blog about the experience.
You know, I'm glad I went. I didn't invent Post-it notes or anything to brag about, but I found some cool people whom I never talked to when I was in high school. Maybe we never shared classes, or maybe I was too shy. In any case, it was like meeting them for the first time, in a setting where we all had something to talk about to break the ice. There were a few people whom I remembered being friendly with, and they were as nice as I'd remembered. And what about the so-called "popular kids", the cliques? They became ordinary. Or rather, I saw them as ordinary in a concrete way for the first time. Some seemed much nicer than I remembered, which I'm sure is an aspect of my memory and not a fundamental change in their personality. I was amused by how a few people were much taller or shorter than I remembered. I have no idea what happened there. As far as location goes, I was surprised by how many stayed in New Hampshire. It's a small enough state that the borders are never more than an hour's drive, maybe two hours. I was also surprised by how many from my class became teachers. I guess that shouldn't surprise me, since we were between Harvard and Dartmouth, and New England tends to be big on education. And ten years leaves a lot of room for marriage, so quite a few people showed up with bored spouses. A few high school sweethearts got married, some pairings that seemed strange to me. I wasn't the only single there, although I thought it skewed towards women. Oh well!
One of these days, I'm going to write an article about why I don't like New Hampshire. I mean no offense to those who like it. The things that I find repulsive (statewide headlines about a telephone pole getting knocked over, for instance) are the same things that attract people to that state, in ways I understand. But there can be no doubt that I exist more easily on the West coast. The people are different, the atmosphere is different, the climate, the houses, the terrain, the wildlife, the businesses, and everything is different. I think I'm happy for the reminder every once in a while. When I went to my high school reunion, I saw a few glints of the things that irritate me about people from my home town, and I sort of breathed a sigh of relief when I got on the plane.
Oct 26, 2006
The Three Musketeers
Whenever I finish a book, I want to discuss it, but the urge usually goes away because I'll start a new book before I can sit down and write a well-thought out review. Lately I've been spewing out spontaneous reviews on my MySpace blog because it's convenient. Tonight I'll break the habit and spew it out here.
The only other book I've ever read by the great Alexandre Dumas is The Count of Monte Cristo. I enjoyed it enough to buy two more books by him, and considering the fact that the author died in 1870 and I usually stick to modern genre fiction, that's really saying something. If Dumas were alive today, I believe he'd regularly hit the bestseller lists.
Okay, The Three Musketeers takes place in 17th century France, so it's historical fiction written by a 19th century Frenchman. At first, as the main character was introduced, I had trouble liking him and getting into the story. I had the impression that Dumas was trying too hard to settle into the literary tropes of the past. He took pains to compare his protagonist to Don Quixote, although D'Artagnan has nothing in common with the former. But the story quickly picked up. Dumas has what I think of as a modern sense of pacing. He devotes most of his words to action, dialogue, and suspense, and he builds scenes so you have to turn the page and find out what will happen next. In reading this book, I expected a conventional swashbuckling tale of friends who go around doing heroic deeds. But this book exceeded my expectations by a long shot. I think one of the main elements that sets it apart from similar fiction is the villain. She's a clever, beautiful, ruthless bitch. This story takes place in a time when women were considered lesser creatures, but all of the male characters are terrified of her, and with good reason. It sounds cartoony, but Dumas makes her believable without reducing the heroism of the protagonists in any way. She's almost funny, mostly scary. In the end, I respected her and wanted to kill her myself. We've all seen our share of ruthless female villains, but this one stands out in my mind as being a cut above the rest. She doesn't use magic--it's not that kind of book--but her skills at seduction are pushed just slightly beyond the realm of human ability, and she's pretty much a genius, so she achieves a demonic status to the male characters and to the reader.
Of course, a kick-ass villain is nothing without kick-ass protagonists. D'Artagnan, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis are a study in contrast. One is brave and too impulsive, one is a near-suicidal former nobleman, one is a gigantic idiot, and one is a peaceful wannabe monk. The way they meet each other is hilarious, and their interaction throughout the novel is just pure fun. I think the reason Dumas's novels are so popular is because everything is pushed just slightly beyond the bounds of reality, without becoming fantasy or even beyond possibility. The relationship between the four protags isn't quite as silly as that between Egon, Ray, Venkman, and Winston from Ghostbusters, because these guys have their serious moments and their arguments. As with any great story, the larger-than-life characters are portrayed as real people.
I feel a little silly for reviewing a novel that must have been reviewed by thousands of people before me. Oh well. I'm glad I bought Queen Margot, because I want more Dumas.
In the meantime, I'm taking a break from translated French novels to listen to a modern crime/action novel by David Baldacci. It's called Last Man Standing. So far, so good, although it's a little too testosterone-laden for my tastes. I would rather read about a guy's inner feelings than the specifics of all the guns he owns. But I like the premise. An FBI hostage rescue team goes into a drug operation to take out the bad guys, but it turns out the team was set up, and everyone gets killed except for one fluke--the main character, who froze at the critical moment and therefore missed the gunfire meant to kill him. Now people believe he betrayed his team, and he has to endure the accusing stares of the widows of his best buddies, not to mention his coworkers and bosses. I suppose his moment of freezing must have been psychic intuition, but I will read and find out.
Since I'm on this long review kick, I'll add a final blurb about the movie The Prestige. It's worth seeing, and it will bend your mind in weird new ways. However, I thought it was a bit too convoluted. The ending was especially hard to get, at least for me. You have to think outside the magic box. Still ... fun premise, awesome acting, cool cinematography, and so forth. And it is very different from The Illusionist, so see both of them if you can.
The only other book I've ever read by the great Alexandre Dumas is The Count of Monte Cristo. I enjoyed it enough to buy two more books by him, and considering the fact that the author died in 1870 and I usually stick to modern genre fiction, that's really saying something. If Dumas were alive today, I believe he'd regularly hit the bestseller lists.
Okay, The Three Musketeers takes place in 17th century France, so it's historical fiction written by a 19th century Frenchman. At first, as the main character was introduced, I had trouble liking him and getting into the story. I had the impression that Dumas was trying too hard to settle into the literary tropes of the past. He took pains to compare his protagonist to Don Quixote, although D'Artagnan has nothing in common with the former. But the story quickly picked up. Dumas has what I think of as a modern sense of pacing. He devotes most of his words to action, dialogue, and suspense, and he builds scenes so you have to turn the page and find out what will happen next. In reading this book, I expected a conventional swashbuckling tale of friends who go around doing heroic deeds. But this book exceeded my expectations by a long shot. I think one of the main elements that sets it apart from similar fiction is the villain. She's a clever, beautiful, ruthless bitch. This story takes place in a time when women were considered lesser creatures, but all of the male characters are terrified of her, and with good reason. It sounds cartoony, but Dumas makes her believable without reducing the heroism of the protagonists in any way. She's almost funny, mostly scary. In the end, I respected her and wanted to kill her myself. We've all seen our share of ruthless female villains, but this one stands out in my mind as being a cut above the rest. She doesn't use magic--it's not that kind of book--but her skills at seduction are pushed just slightly beyond the realm of human ability, and she's pretty much a genius, so she achieves a demonic status to the male characters and to the reader.
Of course, a kick-ass villain is nothing without kick-ass protagonists. D'Artagnan, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis are a study in contrast. One is brave and too impulsive, one is a near-suicidal former nobleman, one is a gigantic idiot, and one is a peaceful wannabe monk. The way they meet each other is hilarious, and their interaction throughout the novel is just pure fun. I think the reason Dumas's novels are so popular is because everything is pushed just slightly beyond the bounds of reality, without becoming fantasy or even beyond possibility. The relationship between the four protags isn't quite as silly as that between Egon, Ray, Venkman, and Winston from Ghostbusters, because these guys have their serious moments and their arguments. As with any great story, the larger-than-life characters are portrayed as real people.
I feel a little silly for reviewing a novel that must have been reviewed by thousands of people before me. Oh well. I'm glad I bought Queen Margot, because I want more Dumas.
In the meantime, I'm taking a break from translated French novels to listen to a modern crime/action novel by David Baldacci. It's called Last Man Standing. So far, so good, although it's a little too testosterone-laden for my tastes. I would rather read about a guy's inner feelings than the specifics of all the guns he owns. But I like the premise. An FBI hostage rescue team goes into a drug operation to take out the bad guys, but it turns out the team was set up, and everyone gets killed except for one fluke--the main character, who froze at the critical moment and therefore missed the gunfire meant to kill him. Now people believe he betrayed his team, and he has to endure the accusing stares of the widows of his best buddies, not to mention his coworkers and bosses. I suppose his moment of freezing must have been psychic intuition, but I will read and find out.
Since I'm on this long review kick, I'll add a final blurb about the movie The Prestige. It's worth seeing, and it will bend your mind in weird new ways. However, I thought it was a bit too convoluted. The ending was especially hard to get, at least for me. You have to think outside the magic box. Still ... fun premise, awesome acting, cool cinematography, and so forth. And it is very different from The Illusionist, so see both of them if you can.
Aug 5, 2006
An Evening With Harry, Carrie & Garp
I needed that vacation!
I just got back from a two week trip, in which I went to Comic Con in San Diego, then flew to New Hampshire to visit my family and friends, then drove to Manhattan to see my film screened at the Museum of Modern Art, and more visiting. I plan to post lots of photos online soon. You'll see me with a bunch of Storm Troopers, some nice views of Lake Winnipesaukee, and a few great shots of Manhattan, if I do say so myself.
Are there any J.K. Rowling fans reading this blog? How about Stephen King or John Irving fans? I admire all three, and consider myself their fans, so I couldn't pass up the opportunity to see them perform readings at Radio City Music Hall on August 1st. There's a lot to respect about these authors. They've become wildly successful in a waning industry where the odds are stacked high against any writer, and they've actually earned their success (so I believe). Also, unlike many celebrities, they respect their fans, and aim to please them, rather than treating fans as a nuisance. These qualities make them rare among artists of any discipline and any level.
I could talk about the rest of my vacation, but I'll save that for another blog entry, if at all. "An Evening With Harry, Carrie & Garp" was for two nights only, and these are three of the world's most respected living authors. I doubt they'll do another public event together again. I need to share the experience. No cameras or recording devices were allowed in the theatre, so it's all words from here.
Six thousand people bought tickets; the show was sold out. As the seats filled, I noticed lots of families with Harry Potter aged children. Some wore wizard robes and hats. I heard a lot of buzz about Rowling, and I began to worry that 1) these kids would get bored and restless during the readings by the other two authors, and that 2) fans of King and Irving would be a minority, which seemed unfair, considering how many readers they must have.
Whoopi Goldberg, a fan of all three authors, came onstage to give a warm introduction. She mentioned that the King and Irving fans were out there, just not as outspoken as the Harry Potter crowd. I was happy that each author received a huge round of applause; Rowling had not overshadowed the other two.
Each author got a separate introduction by a surprise guest celebrity-fan. Kathy Bates introduced King, relating a story that King used to carry a rubber rat in his pocket during the shooting of The Stand miniseries, and he'd whip it out to scare people. Once introduced, King strolled onstage and got a standing ovation (as did the other two authors, later). He looked fit and healthy, and comfortable in front of this huge audience. He promptly sat in the rural country stageset that had been arranged for him, and launched into reading the pie eating contest scene from The Body in his Different Seasons collection.
I thought this was an odd choice. He could have read an excerpt from The Eyes of the Dragon, or one of his less R-rated short stories. The pie eating contest is a child-friendly scene, but it might make some people feel uncomfortable. Well, King read it with great relish and delight, and the audience laughed quite a lot. I think it held everyone's interest. At one gross-out scene, King interrupted himself, saying, "Who writes this stuff?" Pause for audience laugh, and then he said (with glee), "Let's press on, shall we?" And the next sentence was even more disgusting.
Andre Braugher introduced John Irving. In contrast to King's rural Maine stageset, Irving got an Ivy League New Hampshire setup. He sat down in an ornate leather armchair and read the manger casting scene from A Prayer for Owen Meaney. Like King, he was relaxed in front of the crowd and kept everyone interested. He did a funny, squeaky voice when reading Owen's lines.
John Stewart, a fan of all three authors, strolled out to great applause and introduced J.K. Rowling. He acted as if books were threatening the TV industry, a nice touch of ironic sarcasm. Rowling had a wizardish throne setup. She was a little nervous at first, and joked about being classed in the caliber of King and Irving. Of course, she's much younger than those two, and less prolific at this point in her career. She did an excellent reading of a scene from the sixth Harry Potter book, where Harry accompanies a memory of Dumbledore recruiting Tom Riddle to Hogwarts. Afterwards, she remained alone onstage to answer four audience questions. Among other things, she said that Draco would not have murdered Dumbledore, had that scene panned out differently. She wrote the finale of her series before she began it.
The authors answered twelve selected fan questions, out of a thousand. Soledad O'Brien introduced each fan. Among the answers to their questions:
Irving is a compulsive rewriter, and claims that 3/4ths of his career as a writer is spent revising. He enjoys rewriting, but gets nervous about first drafts. He writes by hand or typewriter, without saving files, which I suppose makes rewriting both more necessary and more difficult.
Rowling was surprised by much of the fan fiction devoted to her series, which she found when bored one night and Googling "Harry Potter." She also has a morbid urge to scroll through the Amazon reviews in search of the harsh ones, and does not recommend doing so.
Irving writes the endings of his stories first, feeling them out emotionally, then meticulously planning and building on the mood structure. He saves beginnings for last and finds them the most difficult. King works the opposite way, starting from the beginning and pulling through without a plan, discovering the plot and characters and mood as he writes it.
Rowling got an agent on her second attempt, but collected rejections for two years before the book sold. She knew from the beginning that Harry Potter was an idea she needed to write, and she never felt like giving up on getting his story published. Hypothetically speaking, if she'd gone through every last publisher without selling the book, she would have kept trying. She would have supported herself as a schoolteacher while continuing to pursue her dream.
Irving said that his book The Fourth Hand was inspired by a TV news story about a hand transplant, and a comment his wife made about visiting the transplanted hand of one's donor spouse. Then his wife went to bed, and he was up all night thinking about it.
Someone asked King how he could come up with such ideas without being demented. King answered that there's no good answer to that question. He didn't have much to say to any of his questions: what scares you, what was the most inopportune place you got a story idea ... he's answered these before. I wish they'd chosen different audience questions for him. Mine, for instance. What would you change about the publishing industry, if you could?
You may wonder what I got from seeing these authors live instead of on TV. The answer (aside from the pleasure of hearing them perform their work specifically for fans like me, and experiencing them along with six thousand readers) is seeing their public personas. One can't hide personal mannerisms when live and onstage for a few hours. I expected one of them to come across as a jerk in some way. Instead, all three seemed down to Earth, not arrogant, very confident in themselves and in touch with their fans. That's a wonderful thing to see.
If you'd like to check out some other reviews of the event:
The Slush God
Tom Richmond
Sense of Soot
I just got back from a two week trip, in which I went to Comic Con in San Diego, then flew to New Hampshire to visit my family and friends, then drove to Manhattan to see my film screened at the Museum of Modern Art, and more visiting. I plan to post lots of photos online soon. You'll see me with a bunch of Storm Troopers, some nice views of Lake Winnipesaukee, and a few great shots of Manhattan, if I do say so myself.
Are there any J.K. Rowling fans reading this blog? How about Stephen King or John Irving fans? I admire all three, and consider myself their fans, so I couldn't pass up the opportunity to see them perform readings at Radio City Music Hall on August 1st. There's a lot to respect about these authors. They've become wildly successful in a waning industry where the odds are stacked high against any writer, and they've actually earned their success (so I believe). Also, unlike many celebrities, they respect their fans, and aim to please them, rather than treating fans as a nuisance. These qualities make them rare among artists of any discipline and any level.
I could talk about the rest of my vacation, but I'll save that for another blog entry, if at all. "An Evening With Harry, Carrie & Garp" was for two nights only, and these are three of the world's most respected living authors. I doubt they'll do another public event together again. I need to share the experience. No cameras or recording devices were allowed in the theatre, so it's all words from here.
Six thousand people bought tickets; the show was sold out. As the seats filled, I noticed lots of families with Harry Potter aged children. Some wore wizard robes and hats. I heard a lot of buzz about Rowling, and I began to worry that 1) these kids would get bored and restless during the readings by the other two authors, and that 2) fans of King and Irving would be a minority, which seemed unfair, considering how many readers they must have.
Whoopi Goldberg, a fan of all three authors, came onstage to give a warm introduction. She mentioned that the King and Irving fans were out there, just not as outspoken as the Harry Potter crowd. I was happy that each author received a huge round of applause; Rowling had not overshadowed the other two.
Each author got a separate introduction by a surprise guest celebrity-fan. Kathy Bates introduced King, relating a story that King used to carry a rubber rat in his pocket during the shooting of The Stand miniseries, and he'd whip it out to scare people. Once introduced, King strolled onstage and got a standing ovation (as did the other two authors, later). He looked fit and healthy, and comfortable in front of this huge audience. He promptly sat in the rural country stageset that had been arranged for him, and launched into reading the pie eating contest scene from The Body in his Different Seasons collection.
I thought this was an odd choice. He could have read an excerpt from The Eyes of the Dragon, or one of his less R-rated short stories. The pie eating contest is a child-friendly scene, but it might make some people feel uncomfortable. Well, King read it with great relish and delight, and the audience laughed quite a lot. I think it held everyone's interest. At one gross-out scene, King interrupted himself, saying, "Who writes this stuff?" Pause for audience laugh, and then he said (with glee), "Let's press on, shall we?" And the next sentence was even more disgusting.
Andre Braugher introduced John Irving. In contrast to King's rural Maine stageset, Irving got an Ivy League New Hampshire setup. He sat down in an ornate leather armchair and read the manger casting scene from A Prayer for Owen Meaney. Like King, he was relaxed in front of the crowd and kept everyone interested. He did a funny, squeaky voice when reading Owen's lines.
John Stewart, a fan of all three authors, strolled out to great applause and introduced J.K. Rowling. He acted as if books were threatening the TV industry, a nice touch of ironic sarcasm. Rowling had a wizardish throne setup. She was a little nervous at first, and joked about being classed in the caliber of King and Irving. Of course, she's much younger than those two, and less prolific at this point in her career. She did an excellent reading of a scene from the sixth Harry Potter book, where Harry accompanies a memory of Dumbledore recruiting Tom Riddle to Hogwarts. Afterwards, she remained alone onstage to answer four audience questions. Among other things, she said that Draco would not have murdered Dumbledore, had that scene panned out differently. She wrote the finale of her series before she began it.
The authors answered twelve selected fan questions, out of a thousand. Soledad O'Brien introduced each fan. Among the answers to their questions:
Irving is a compulsive rewriter, and claims that 3/4ths of his career as a writer is spent revising. He enjoys rewriting, but gets nervous about first drafts. He writes by hand or typewriter, without saving files, which I suppose makes rewriting both more necessary and more difficult.
Rowling was surprised by much of the fan fiction devoted to her series, which she found when bored one night and Googling "Harry Potter." She also has a morbid urge to scroll through the Amazon reviews in search of the harsh ones, and does not recommend doing so.
Irving writes the endings of his stories first, feeling them out emotionally, then meticulously planning and building on the mood structure. He saves beginnings for last and finds them the most difficult. King works the opposite way, starting from the beginning and pulling through without a plan, discovering the plot and characters and mood as he writes it.
Rowling got an agent on her second attempt, but collected rejections for two years before the book sold. She knew from the beginning that Harry Potter was an idea she needed to write, and she never felt like giving up on getting his story published. Hypothetically speaking, if she'd gone through every last publisher without selling the book, she would have kept trying. She would have supported herself as a schoolteacher while continuing to pursue her dream.
Irving said that his book The Fourth Hand was inspired by a TV news story about a hand transplant, and a comment his wife made about visiting the transplanted hand of one's donor spouse. Then his wife went to bed, and he was up all night thinking about it.
Someone asked King how he could come up with such ideas without being demented. King answered that there's no good answer to that question. He didn't have much to say to any of his questions: what scares you, what was the most inopportune place you got a story idea ... he's answered these before. I wish they'd chosen different audience questions for him. Mine, for instance. What would you change about the publishing industry, if you could?
You may wonder what I got from seeing these authors live instead of on TV. The answer (aside from the pleasure of hearing them perform their work specifically for fans like me, and experiencing them along with six thousand readers) is seeing their public personas. One can't hide personal mannerisms when live and onstage for a few hours. I expected one of them to come across as a jerk in some way. Instead, all three seemed down to Earth, not arrogant, very confident in themselves and in touch with their fans. That's a wonderful thing to see.
If you'd like to check out some other reviews of the event:
The Slush God
Tom Richmond
Sense of Soot
Jul 26, 2006
Lost River, NH
NOTE: This should be dated July 26, 2006.
I visit New Hampshire every summer. I live in California, but it's nice for me to remember where I grew up (and why I moved). Anyway, during this trip back east, I went on a day excursion to the White Mountains with my friend Amy. We drove from Manchester for about 2 or 3 hours north, to the White Mountain National Park. This is basically a gigantic forest. It stretches from Eastern Canada all the way to the Southern USA. The northern New Hampshire part of it is extremely unpopulated. You might find a quaint town or two, but mostly, it's trees. Lots of trees. The mountains are furred with pine trees and look like hills or clouds from a distance, because they're round and hump-like, but up close, you can see they're taller than hills. The tallest White Mountains are known as the Presidential Range (named after U.S. Presidents), and they tend to have tundra or bare granite peaks due to the awful weather at the top. In midsummer, the tops of these mountains experience freezing rain and the highest windspeeds on Earth. In winter, it gets worse.
We didn't visit any granite peaks on this trip. Instead, we visited Lost River Gorge.
This is one of several parks in upstate New Hampshire where you can explore granite caves (the most well-known one is the Polar Caves). At Lost River, you follow the trail, which consists of walkways between, over, and under giant boulders in the woods. Every so often, you'll see a crack between boulders with a sign inviting you to enter the cave. If you can contort your body through the crack, you're fine. Some of these caves involve spaces that a child has trouble crawling through. Seriously, you need to be flexible and NOT claustrophobic.
Here's a man emerging from a cave:
Here's a view of the White Mountains. Appalachia at its finest!
So, what does one find in a Lost River cave? Somtimes chilly little underground ponds. Sometimes old-style lanterns. Sometimes ladders made out of sticks that you have to climb in order to get out. Sometimes children (or adults) looking for an easier way out. Not much else!
At least it's a fun hike, and there are plenty of nice views.
I visit New Hampshire every summer. I live in California, but it's nice for me to remember where I grew up (and why I moved). Anyway, during this trip back east, I went on a day excursion to the White Mountains with my friend Amy. We drove from Manchester for about 2 or 3 hours north, to the White Mountain National Park. This is basically a gigantic forest. It stretches from Eastern Canada all the way to the Southern USA. The northern New Hampshire part of it is extremely unpopulated. You might find a quaint town or two, but mostly, it's trees. Lots of trees. The mountains are furred with pine trees and look like hills or clouds from a distance, because they're round and hump-like, but up close, you can see they're taller than hills. The tallest White Mountains are known as the Presidential Range (named after U.S. Presidents), and they tend to have tundra or bare granite peaks due to the awful weather at the top. In midsummer, the tops of these mountains experience freezing rain and the highest windspeeds on Earth. In winter, it gets worse.
We didn't visit any granite peaks on this trip. Instead, we visited Lost River Gorge.
This is one of several parks in upstate New Hampshire where you can explore granite caves (the most well-known one is the Polar Caves). At Lost River, you follow the trail, which consists of walkways between, over, and under giant boulders in the woods. Every so often, you'll see a crack between boulders with a sign inviting you to enter the cave. If you can contort your body through the crack, you're fine. Some of these caves involve spaces that a child has trouble crawling through. Seriously, you need to be flexible and NOT claustrophobic.
Here's a man emerging from a cave:
Here's a view of the White Mountains. Appalachia at its finest!
So, what does one find in a Lost River cave? Somtimes chilly little underground ponds. Sometimes old-style lanterns. Sometimes ladders made out of sticks that you have to climb in order to get out. Sometimes children (or adults) looking for an easier way out. Not much else!
At least it's a fun hike, and there are plenty of nice views.
Jul 21, 2006
ComicCon 2006
So far, I've been to two ComicCons, each more crowded than the last. Nerds take over the entire city of San Diego! Look at them all:
Last year, in 2005, I had the supreme honor of being a guest at a private fan dinner with author Robert Jordan. This year, I had a lot of fun hanging out with my friends Brianne and Heather. Here we are in front of the Star of India, a sailing ship near our hotel:
We met a number of pirates, but Captain Jack Sparrow had a certain allure, so we took photos with him.
Part of the joy of being an Attending Professional is avoiding lines. Comic Con attracts over 150,000 people from all over the world. Some of them wait in line for hours just to enter to convention center. Here's a line we skipped:
Last year, I avoided the crowded floor and spent most of the weekend at panels, which were fun and enlightening. This year, I avoided the panels and browsed the floor. The San Diego convention center is so huge, no photograph can convey its size. There are over 5,000 booths in one massive room. There are contests, clothing and jewelry, prints and fine art, comics and toys, celebrities, costumes, novels and author signings. You can spend a day on the floor and not see it all.
Here's a sliver of it:
We met some storm troopers and Jedi:
And Heather met some comic book heroes:
We saw lots of strange costumes, including five women dressed like Wonder Woman, a giant panda on a tricycle, and a naked old man. The thick crowds made it hard to snap shots of individuals. Here's some strange ones:
Finally, we took breaks and explored beautiful downtown San Diego. We went to clubs (full of Comic Con attendees) and restaurants (full of Comic Con attendees). Here's a view of the harbor within walking distance of the convention center:
Will I go again? Surely! But if the convention keeps growing like this, they'll need to rent a larger city.
Last year, in 2005, I had the supreme honor of being a guest at a private fan dinner with author Robert Jordan. This year, I had a lot of fun hanging out with my friends Brianne and Heather. Here we are in front of the Star of India, a sailing ship near our hotel:
We met a number of pirates, but Captain Jack Sparrow had a certain allure, so we took photos with him.
Part of the joy of being an Attending Professional is avoiding lines. Comic Con attracts over 150,000 people from all over the world. Some of them wait in line for hours just to enter to convention center. Here's a line we skipped:
Last year, I avoided the crowded floor and spent most of the weekend at panels, which were fun and enlightening. This year, I avoided the panels and browsed the floor. The San Diego convention center is so huge, no photograph can convey its size. There are over 5,000 booths in one massive room. There are contests, clothing and jewelry, prints and fine art, comics and toys, celebrities, costumes, novels and author signings. You can spend a day on the floor and not see it all.
Here's a sliver of it:
We met some storm troopers and Jedi:
And Heather met some comic book heroes:
We saw lots of strange costumes, including five women dressed like Wonder Woman, a giant panda on a tricycle, and a naked old man. The thick crowds made it hard to snap shots of individuals. Here's some strange ones:
Finally, we took breaks and explored beautiful downtown San Diego. We went to clubs (full of Comic Con attendees) and restaurants (full of Comic Con attendees). Here's a view of the harbor within walking distance of the convention center:
Will I go again? Surely! But if the convention keeps growing like this, they'll need to rent a larger city.
May 9, 2006
relieving traffic congestion while improving our standard of living
I am uniquely lucky in one respect: I live in the Los Angeles area, and I almost never face rush hour traffic. This is because a) I live two blocks away from my office building, and b) I'm a night owl who rarely sees the sunny side of the AM hours.
So today, I was required to show up for jury duty at a courthouse in San Fernando Valley. I woke up at 6am (which was painful) and belatedly realized that I was going to get stuck in morning traffic. Yup. I sat amidst cars in the smog-filled morning haze of L.A., and since I wasn't doing much else, I got to thinking about how much it must suck to have to commute every day.
Wouldn't the rush hour traffic be lessened if businesses adopted different schedules? Other night people like me exist; not every employee would voluntarily choose 9am till 5pm. I don't see why other businesses can't shift their schedules in an effort to alleviate traffic congestion. If some of the major corporations were to adopt 11am to 7pm shifts, that would help a lot. And please don't tell me "no one would agree to those hours." That's pure bullshit. If you think that way, then you're one of THEM ... a morning person.
And by the way, I spent my entire civic duty as a potential Juror reading a book. The trial was postponed or something, so they didn't need a jury. I guess that happens a lot! The free time was nice, though; my only complaint was having to wake up at 6am.
So today, I was required to show up for jury duty at a courthouse in San Fernando Valley. I woke up at 6am (which was painful) and belatedly realized that I was going to get stuck in morning traffic. Yup. I sat amidst cars in the smog-filled morning haze of L.A., and since I wasn't doing much else, I got to thinking about how much it must suck to have to commute every day.
Wouldn't the rush hour traffic be lessened if businesses adopted different schedules? Other night people like me exist; not every employee would voluntarily choose 9am till 5pm. I don't see why other businesses can't shift their schedules in an effort to alleviate traffic congestion. If some of the major corporations were to adopt 11am to 7pm shifts, that would help a lot. And please don't tell me "no one would agree to those hours." That's pure bullshit. If you think that way, then you're one of THEM ... a morning person.
And by the way, I spent my entire civic duty as a potential Juror reading a book. The trial was postponed or something, so they didn't need a jury. I guess that happens a lot! The free time was nice, though; my only complaint was having to wake up at 6am.
May 3, 2006
Reading and today's youth
Obviously, if you're reading this, you have enjoyed the act of reading at some time in your life (and maybe you still do). You don't habitually avoid large blocks of text. I'm so involved in the writing industry, I sometimes forget that there are huge portions of the population who don't read. They fall asleep when they pick up a novel. They may be proud of the fact that they prefer videogames to books, or they may be embarrassed and pretend to tout some book knowledge based off of the few novels they read in high school English classes. Either way, these people have probably never had the experience of becoming absorped in a novel. They've never read a story that tugged their emotions in an unforgettable way, experiencing something very different from the sort of emotional impact that a good movie or game can impart.
I suspect the reading attitude is cultivated in high school (or junior high) for most people. I wonder how much reading I'd do if I had never picked up Pet Semetary in 6th grade. What if the first adult book I ever read was, say, Moby Dick? What if I'd never read Stephen King or Anne Rice? What if my only encounters with literature were Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, and a handful of V.C. Andrews and Nancy Drew? Well, I'll tell you: I would hate to read. I would chalk it up to an overrated waste of time.
Really, I wonder at the approach high schools take. The classics are important ... but they're not relevant to most teenagers in 2006. To me, emphasizing the Bronte sisters in a 10th grade English class is the equivalent of emphasizing silent films in a class about cinema in general. All of the focus is on one long-ago era, rather than what's innovative and current. Maybe a classic book will have a profound impact on one teenager, somewhere ... maybe. But the way I see it, kids aged 10 through 18 need to experience the joy of reading before they choose to study classic literature. And studying the classics ought to be a choice. I've heard people make a fuss about losing Shakespeare in high school classes, but I think these people are worried about the wrong aspect of the reading problem. Given the choice between losing a few Shakespearian quotes as part of our cultural vocabulary (and that changes every year anyway) and losing millions of readers each year, I choose to lose Shakespeare in high school. This is not the death of Shakespeare. Every reader has a love, many readers love Shakespeare, and they will keep him alive. I'm sure that colleges will continue to devote classes to Shakespeare, and people will continue to study and perform his plays. Meanwhile, high school students would become less familiar with Shakespeare ... which may have the effect of rekindling an interest in his works. Now, if those same high school English classes replaced Shakespeare and the classics with some modern, popular authors, we may actually have more readers entering society.
And one more thing: Most of the bookworms I know, including myself, started out by reading fun, modern authors. We identified with characters who lived in the same society we inhabit. Later on, we read about other worlds and time periods. Now, in our adult lives, some of us read (and enjoy) more classics than any high school would assign. But while we were in high school, we preferred those modern authors, who validated our feelings about the world around us, and showed us characters like our friends and ourselves. That is how we became readers. To me, that is the most important point.
What does society lose from having fewer readers? Let me put it this way: Right now, there are some people who don't know how to navigate the internet or send an email. They've been unable to access computers, or they've purposely avoided them. You're a computer user. What kind of disadvantages do you see those people as having?
I suspect the reading attitude is cultivated in high school (or junior high) for most people. I wonder how much reading I'd do if I had never picked up Pet Semetary in 6th grade. What if the first adult book I ever read was, say, Moby Dick? What if I'd never read Stephen King or Anne Rice? What if my only encounters with literature were Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, and a handful of V.C. Andrews and Nancy Drew? Well, I'll tell you: I would hate to read. I would chalk it up to an overrated waste of time.
Really, I wonder at the approach high schools take. The classics are important ... but they're not relevant to most teenagers in 2006. To me, emphasizing the Bronte sisters in a 10th grade English class is the equivalent of emphasizing silent films in a class about cinema in general. All of the focus is on one long-ago era, rather than what's innovative and current. Maybe a classic book will have a profound impact on one teenager, somewhere ... maybe. But the way I see it, kids aged 10 through 18 need to experience the joy of reading before they choose to study classic literature. And studying the classics ought to be a choice. I've heard people make a fuss about losing Shakespeare in high school classes, but I think these people are worried about the wrong aspect of the reading problem. Given the choice between losing a few Shakespearian quotes as part of our cultural vocabulary (and that changes every year anyway) and losing millions of readers each year, I choose to lose Shakespeare in high school. This is not the death of Shakespeare. Every reader has a love, many readers love Shakespeare, and they will keep him alive. I'm sure that colleges will continue to devote classes to Shakespeare, and people will continue to study and perform his plays. Meanwhile, high school students would become less familiar with Shakespeare ... which may have the effect of rekindling an interest in his works. Now, if those same high school English classes replaced Shakespeare and the classics with some modern, popular authors, we may actually have more readers entering society.
And one more thing: Most of the bookworms I know, including myself, started out by reading fun, modern authors. We identified with characters who lived in the same society we inhabit. Later on, we read about other worlds and time periods. Now, in our adult lives, some of us read (and enjoy) more classics than any high school would assign. But while we were in high school, we preferred those modern authors, who validated our feelings about the world around us, and showed us characters like our friends and ourselves. That is how we became readers. To me, that is the most important point.
What does society lose from having fewer readers? Let me put it this way: Right now, there are some people who don't know how to navigate the internet or send an email. They've been unable to access computers, or they've purposely avoided them. You're a computer user. What kind of disadvantages do you see those people as having?
Mar 20, 2006
St. Patrick's Day madness!
Okay, I'm not a bar-hopping type of girl, but for St. Patrick's Day, my friend convinced me to celebrate by going to an Irish pub. I wasn't sure what to expect. I figured we'd get hit on by all the wrong kinds of people and then leave after an hour, but at least I can pass for Irish if anything went wrong.
So we cruised around the O.C. It so happens that in Seal Beach, there are four Irish bars within a block of each other, and they were all full of St. P's Day revelers. About ten seconds after we walked through the door of The Irisher, a drunk woman started pinching my arm. She wanted to know why I wasn't wearing green ... apparently she didn't notice my bright green pants. Anyway, she was hurting me, so we escaped into the crowd.
Long story shortened (not because I can't remember what happened, but because it's censored, thank you very much): We stayed till closing time. I had a good time. I'm not sure what the point of this story is, except to say that I went to a bar as a single woman for the first time, and it's nice to be hit on.
And last night, I went to an art opening at Gallery Nucleus, where my friends have some artwork up. If you come to the Pasadena area, I highly recommend that you visit this art gallery. They have cool "underground" sort of prints, books, and T-shirts, too.
And earlier today, we had lunch at the 60's futuristic LAX restaurant, Encounter. It's worth a visit for the art deco architecture. Their elevator plays 60's scifi music.
I plan to post new photos on my site soon!
So we cruised around the O.C. It so happens that in Seal Beach, there are four Irish bars within a block of each other, and they were all full of St. P's Day revelers. About ten seconds after we walked through the door of The Irisher, a drunk woman started pinching my arm. She wanted to know why I wasn't wearing green ... apparently she didn't notice my bright green pants. Anyway, she was hurting me, so we escaped into the crowd.
Long story shortened (not because I can't remember what happened, but because it's censored, thank you very much): We stayed till closing time. I had a good time. I'm not sure what the point of this story is, except to say that I went to a bar as a single woman for the first time, and it's nice to be hit on.
And last night, I went to an art opening at Gallery Nucleus, where my friends have some artwork up. If you come to the Pasadena area, I highly recommend that you visit this art gallery. They have cool "underground" sort of prints, books, and T-shirts, too.
And earlier today, we had lunch at the 60's futuristic LAX restaurant, Encounter. It's worth a visit for the art deco architecture. Their elevator plays 60's scifi music.
I plan to post new photos on my site soon!
Feb 8, 2006
Email backlog
It has come to my attention that I have more than 200 emails awaiting replies. This is worse than usual. To Everyone: I'm sorry! I would send an auto-response that I'm busy, but I don't have time to figure out how to make one.
Here's my typical schedule: Go to work around 11am, run around totally busy until 7 or 8pm (I'm managing a small animation team), then go home and work on my novel revision until 2 or 3am. On weekends, I catch up with friends, or my sister, or actually go on a date. I don't have kids or pets, so honestly, I can't comprehend how someone with kids or pets ever answers email.
Mini-update on my writing:
I estimate I'll be finished with my novel revision around May 2006. Once I'm satisfied that it's better than the old version (test readers!!!), I'll throw every effort into trying to catch the attention of an agent or publisher. No more rewrites. No more agonizing over making it marketable. If the new version gets poor reactions, then I'll stick with the old version, and I mean stick with it. That is a resolution! Stand by for adventures in publishing . . .
Since I've thrown all my attention towards the novel, I haven't done anything with my short stories. Most of them need revisions. But, happily, I did get a rewrite request from Baen's Universe . . . that's almost a pro sale!
Regarding the monitor problem: Thanks for sending in advice. I gather that it could be a bad monitor cable, a conflict between hardware drivers, or a dying monitor. Since I wrote that blog entry, I haven't had a problem (go figure), but I'm sure it'll come back. I'll try different things and post about whatever works.
Here's my typical schedule: Go to work around 11am, run around totally busy until 7 or 8pm (I'm managing a small animation team), then go home and work on my novel revision until 2 or 3am. On weekends, I catch up with friends, or my sister, or actually go on a date. I don't have kids or pets, so honestly, I can't comprehend how someone with kids or pets ever answers email.
Mini-update on my writing:
I estimate I'll be finished with my novel revision around May 2006. Once I'm satisfied that it's better than the old version (test readers!!!), I'll throw every effort into trying to catch the attention of an agent or publisher. No more rewrites. No more agonizing over making it marketable. If the new version gets poor reactions, then I'll stick with the old version, and I mean stick with it. That is a resolution! Stand by for adventures in publishing . . .
Since I've thrown all my attention towards the novel, I haven't done anything with my short stories. Most of them need revisions. But, happily, I did get a rewrite request from Baen's Universe . . . that's almost a pro sale!
Regarding the monitor problem: Thanks for sending in advice. I gather that it could be a bad monitor cable, a conflict between hardware drivers, or a dying monitor. Since I wrote that blog entry, I haven't had a problem (go figure), but I'm sure it'll come back. I'll try different things and post about whatever works.
Jan 31, 2006
My computer is insane and wants to die
I just restarted my computer 18 times (maybe more than that), and the monitor never kicked in. The power's on, but nobody's home.
So I figured, maybe I have a dead monitor. Time to test it with another computer. I dragged out my ancient Windows 98 machine and hooked it up. The monitor worked, but it looked pixellated and weird. I began to hope that my problem truly is JUST that I need a new monitor. Replacing a monitor is easy. Replacing my computer would be a huge chore, because it has a ton of stuff on it that I don't want to lose in the transfer.
I hooked the monitor back to my newer computer . . . and lo, it worked fine. It was as if nothing was wrong at all.
You might say, "Well, Abby, maybe your monitor wasn't hooked up properly the first time." But you'd be wrong! Because this blank monitor is a recurring problem that's been happening AT RANDOM for the last half a year. Every once in a while--usually when I plug or unplug a USB device--the monitor goes blank. It's been happening more and more frequently. At first, it only happened once a month or so. Now it's very common, and sometimes the monitor won't work on start-up.
You might say, "Well, Abby, maybe you just have a bad video card." But you'd probably be wrong again! Because I've replaced my video card TWICE in the last year or so. If it's gone bad a third time, that's just not fair. Not fair, I say.
So . . . what do you think I should do? Buy a new monitor? Or bite the bullet and buy a new computer, even though I'd rather wait to do that? Please, if you're reading this and you know stuff about computers, I beg you for advice!
Thank you and good night.
So I figured, maybe I have a dead monitor. Time to test it with another computer. I dragged out my ancient Windows 98 machine and hooked it up. The monitor worked, but it looked pixellated and weird. I began to hope that my problem truly is JUST that I need a new monitor. Replacing a monitor is easy. Replacing my computer would be a huge chore, because it has a ton of stuff on it that I don't want to lose in the transfer.
I hooked the monitor back to my newer computer . . . and lo, it worked fine. It was as if nothing was wrong at all.
You might say, "Well, Abby, maybe your monitor wasn't hooked up properly the first time." But you'd be wrong! Because this blank monitor is a recurring problem that's been happening AT RANDOM for the last half a year. Every once in a while--usually when I plug or unplug a USB device--the monitor goes blank. It's been happening more and more frequently. At first, it only happened once a month or so. Now it's very common, and sometimes the monitor won't work on start-up.
You might say, "Well, Abby, maybe you just have a bad video card." But you'd probably be wrong again! Because I've replaced my video card TWICE in the last year or so. If it's gone bad a third time, that's just not fair. Not fair, I say.
So . . . what do you think I should do? Buy a new monitor? Or bite the bullet and buy a new computer, even though I'd rather wait to do that? Please, if you're reading this and you know stuff about computers, I beg you for advice!
Thank you and good night.
Dec 23, 2005
digital camera joy
Yay! My parents very nicely bought me a Nikon S4 for Hanukkah. Now I can show you the pretty view from the balcony of my condo, which I just moved to. Check it out:
I mean, it's no big deal to most people, but in So Cal (Southern California), the houses are spaced so close together than most windows look upon other people's houses. This is the first place I've lived in since college where I can look out my window and see mostly sky. It's sunny and pretty. Directly below me is a courtyard-like park where dogs and kids sometimes play.
Now I'll set about making a photo section for my website!
I mean, it's no big deal to most people, but in So Cal (Southern California), the houses are spaced so close together than most windows look upon other people's houses. This is the first place I've lived in since college where I can look out my window and see mostly sky. It's sunny and pretty. Directly below me is a courtyard-like park where dogs and kids sometimes play.
Now I'll set about making a photo section for my website!
Nov 27, 2005
new start
I've started a new life today.
Sort of. About two months ago, I had a break-up with my boyfriend of five years. We both still care deeply for each other, but our relationship wasn't working. Ever since the "divorce" (that's what it feels like), I've oscillated between depression and joy, nostalgia and optimism for the future. It's been a rough end-of-year. Anyway, he's dating someone else now, and I've moved into a different condo. Today is my first day of being settled in. I'm mostly unpacked, my internet access is set up, and I can sit around and enjoy the view from my balcony. It looks like home at last! I would show you the pretty view, but I need to buy a digital camera. It's on my lengthening shopping list. The last time I was single, I was a mere teenager of 22, fresh out of college, and I didn't own much furniture or things. I'm at a stage in life where I want to own more things. Like a house. It's strange, because I remember being 22 and not wanting to settle down. I'd retained a notion that I would travel a lot, become wildly successful by the age of 27, and build a fabulous mansion when I was good and ready. Do all 22-year-olds have grandiose dreams? I think they're a good thing. We all need goals to strive for. The biggest symptom of my late 20s, I think, is that my dreams are fading. I still hope that I'll be wildly successful and build the awesome mansion, but I can no longer tell myself that it will happen by the age of 27. I'm 27 now. So I'll postpone that goal for age 30 . . . but somewhere along the course of life, I've learned how to postpone good things and procrastinate on others, and I can no longer believe these promises I make to myself without at least some doubts. I have a sad feeling that I will end up postponing that goal till age 35, then 40, and while I continue to struggle towards the stars, so to speak, I'll remain single and grow more bitter and ugly with every passing year. What will I have when I'm 60? I used to believe in my wonderful future with blind faith. I think that's what held me together through the trials of childhood, high school, and college. Now that personal faith is shaken. Worries and doubts are creeping in. I don't know what my future holds, and I don't like not knowing.
So there's my depressing sermon for the day. Kids, don't grow up! Priestess Abby signing off.
Oh, I may as well give an update on the rest of my life while I'm here. Work is going well. I'm doing 3D animation for a Nintendo DS game, and enjoying it. Being single, I've seen more of my friends, and will have more time to write screenplays and novels. I did have a fun Thanksgiving holiday at a friend's house. For the Christmas week, I'm going on a ski trip to Mammoth Mountain, which I'm really looking forward to. Skiing is the only sport I'm capable of, since I grew up in a non-athetic family living in New Hampshire. I'm only an intermediate skier, but I like the speed of going downhill.
Writing: On hold for the last two months. I will get back to it as of today. Of course, I've managed to distract myself with George RR Martin's series. If you like to read, do yourself a favor and buy A Game of Thrones. That is some good crack.
Art: I just modeled a few Gothic buildings in 3ds Max, but my latest ambition is to paint my own book covers. I went to the Gnomon Workshop, where world-famous digital painters give amazing tutorials, and I left feeling inspired.
Sort of. About two months ago, I had a break-up with my boyfriend of five years. We both still care deeply for each other, but our relationship wasn't working. Ever since the "divorce" (that's what it feels like), I've oscillated between depression and joy, nostalgia and optimism for the future. It's been a rough end-of-year. Anyway, he's dating someone else now, and I've moved into a different condo. Today is my first day of being settled in. I'm mostly unpacked, my internet access is set up, and I can sit around and enjoy the view from my balcony. It looks like home at last! I would show you the pretty view, but I need to buy a digital camera. It's on my lengthening shopping list. The last time I was single, I was a mere teenager of 22, fresh out of college, and I didn't own much furniture or things. I'm at a stage in life where I want to own more things. Like a house. It's strange, because I remember being 22 and not wanting to settle down. I'd retained a notion that I would travel a lot, become wildly successful by the age of 27, and build a fabulous mansion when I was good and ready. Do all 22-year-olds have grandiose dreams? I think they're a good thing. We all need goals to strive for. The biggest symptom of my late 20s, I think, is that my dreams are fading. I still hope that I'll be wildly successful and build the awesome mansion, but I can no longer tell myself that it will happen by the age of 27. I'm 27 now. So I'll postpone that goal for age 30 . . . but somewhere along the course of life, I've learned how to postpone good things and procrastinate on others, and I can no longer believe these promises I make to myself without at least some doubts. I have a sad feeling that I will end up postponing that goal till age 35, then 40, and while I continue to struggle towards the stars, so to speak, I'll remain single and grow more bitter and ugly with every passing year. What will I have when I'm 60? I used to believe in my wonderful future with blind faith. I think that's what held me together through the trials of childhood, high school, and college. Now that personal faith is shaken. Worries and doubts are creeping in. I don't know what my future holds, and I don't like not knowing.
So there's my depressing sermon for the day. Kids, don't grow up! Priestess Abby signing off.
Oh, I may as well give an update on the rest of my life while I'm here. Work is going well. I'm doing 3D animation for a Nintendo DS game, and enjoying it. Being single, I've seen more of my friends, and will have more time to write screenplays and novels. I did have a fun Thanksgiving holiday at a friend's house. For the Christmas week, I'm going on a ski trip to Mammoth Mountain, which I'm really looking forward to. Skiing is the only sport I'm capable of, since I grew up in a non-athetic family living in New Hampshire. I'm only an intermediate skier, but I like the speed of going downhill.
Writing: On hold for the last two months. I will get back to it as of today. Of course, I've managed to distract myself with George RR Martin's series. If you like to read, do yourself a favor and buy A Game of Thrones. That is some good crack.
Art: I just modeled a few Gothic buildings in 3ds Max, but my latest ambition is to paint my own book covers. I went to the Gnomon Workshop, where world-famous digital painters give amazing tutorials, and I left feeling inspired.
Sep 1, 2005
Long Time, No Update
It's been a while. I planned to update this blog every week, but I think I'd have to write a novel to catch up now. August was a busy month. Well, it was a vacation month, which means I got to go to a lot of theme parks, concerts, parties, and generally wallow in my free time. I count that as REAL life. Most of my life isn't that exciting.
Anyway, my artwork will be featured in an upcoming gallery show. The reception is this Saturday evening, in Alhambra (between Pasadena and Los Angeles), at Gallery Nucleus. If you're in the L.A. area, it's worth going to! There will be free drinks, a live band, and women get 10% off all the store merchandise, since it's an all-woman show. My artwork will be for sale at the gallery and on their online store throughout September.
I never told you about Comic Con, did I? Well ... to those of you who are "Wheel of Time" fans ... I went to a dinner with Robert Jordan and his wife, Harriet. That was a really cool, interesting experience! I'll attempt to go into more detail at a later date.
In the last week of July, I spent ten days in New Hampshire at TNEO (the Odyssey writing workshop alumni program thingy). It's basically a high-end critique group. Some of the Odyssey graduates are published novelists, and many have experience in the publishing industry, so I judged it worth going to. It was. I'll probably go again next year. Not only did we critique each other's work (and receive critiques on up to three stories of our own), but we practiced pitching our novels, we did a reading at Barnes & Noble, and we had panels covering everything from Young Adult markets to writing good query letters. Ask about my reading at B&N and watch me blush ...
So, I could tell you about the Doctor Steel and STG concerts I went to, but I think Larry has covered everything I'd have to say about that. If you've never heard of those bands (and you probably haven't), then it is your duty as a music-lover to check them out. By the way, Doctor Steel went to CalArts in the same Character Animation program I went through. You just wait, someday I'll have a Flash website that looks as cool as his ...
I've been out of work since Tak 3 wrapped up. I believe it will be showing up in stores across the world pretty soon. Remember, kids, I wrote some of the dialogue in that game (the Gameboy Advance version, anyway). I got to write the mind reader boss's dialogue! Oh yeah, and I animated him, too. Actually, I'm only responsible for about 1/3 of the in-game dialogue, and the publisher smoothed it all over and made sure there weren't any in-jokes left. Or maybe they just replaced our in-jokes with their in-jokes.
So, I'm doing some freelance, designing T-shirts and logos for an advertising company. Also continuing to teach myself Flash MX. I've overcome the learning hump and enjoying it now. I want to design a whole bunch of Flash websites for fun. But I try to keep my priorities in the right order, so I'm focusing on my writing instead. (Yes, that is a priority with me; I'm just weird.) I'm currently working on a short story about demonic Vikings. Rejections are trickling in ... maybe I'm self-deluded, but I keep thinking it's only a matter of time before I reach my goal of breaking into a pro market. I'll tell you as soon as it happens.
My novels and my screenplays are on hold. But not for long! I'm going to go insane and rip somebody's head off if I don't get back to long format writing soon.
Abby, signing off.
Anyway, my artwork will be featured in an upcoming gallery show. The reception is this Saturday evening, in Alhambra (between Pasadena and Los Angeles), at Gallery Nucleus. If you're in the L.A. area, it's worth going to! There will be free drinks, a live band, and women get 10% off all the store merchandise, since it's an all-woman show. My artwork will be for sale at the gallery and on their online store throughout September.
I never told you about Comic Con, did I? Well ... to those of you who are "Wheel of Time" fans ... I went to a dinner with Robert Jordan and his wife, Harriet. That was a really cool, interesting experience! I'll attempt to go into more detail at a later date.
In the last week of July, I spent ten days in New Hampshire at TNEO (the Odyssey writing workshop alumni program thingy). It's basically a high-end critique group. Some of the Odyssey graduates are published novelists, and many have experience in the publishing industry, so I judged it worth going to. It was. I'll probably go again next year. Not only did we critique each other's work (and receive critiques on up to three stories of our own), but we practiced pitching our novels, we did a reading at Barnes & Noble, and we had panels covering everything from Young Adult markets to writing good query letters. Ask about my reading at B&N and watch me blush ...
So, I could tell you about the Doctor Steel and STG concerts I went to, but I think Larry has covered everything I'd have to say about that. If you've never heard of those bands (and you probably haven't), then it is your duty as a music-lover to check them out. By the way, Doctor Steel went to CalArts in the same Character Animation program I went through. You just wait, someday I'll have a Flash website that looks as cool as his ...
I've been out of work since Tak 3 wrapped up. I believe it will be showing up in stores across the world pretty soon. Remember, kids, I wrote some of the dialogue in that game (the Gameboy Advance version, anyway). I got to write the mind reader boss's dialogue! Oh yeah, and I animated him, too. Actually, I'm only responsible for about 1/3 of the in-game dialogue, and the publisher smoothed it all over and made sure there weren't any in-jokes left. Or maybe they just replaced our in-jokes with their in-jokes.
So, I'm doing some freelance, designing T-shirts and logos for an advertising company. Also continuing to teach myself Flash MX. I've overcome the learning hump and enjoying it now. I want to design a whole bunch of Flash websites for fun. But I try to keep my priorities in the right order, so I'm focusing on my writing instead. (Yes, that is a priority with me; I'm just weird.) I'm currently working on a short story about demonic Vikings. Rejections are trickling in ... maybe I'm self-deluded, but I keep thinking it's only a matter of time before I reach my goal of breaking into a pro market. I'll tell you as soon as it happens.
My novels and my screenplays are on hold. But not for long! I'm going to go insane and rip somebody's head off if I don't get back to long format writing soon.
Abby, signing off.
May 15, 2005
Spam-free!
What a difference spam makes . . . I just closed my last spam-compromised email account, so I no longer receive unwanted emails. Words can't describe how joyful I felt when I checked my email today and it said "no new messages"! Ah, bliss! I checked it several hours later, just to make sure, and there are still no new messages! This is like a trip to Disneyland.
So, Larry and I went to a Goth/Industrial club on Friday the 13th. The band we saw is STG, and Larry took photos of them. I had a good time. The Derby has a really cool, retro atmosphere; it used to be the major Swing club in L.A. I'm considering going to The Labyrinth Masquerade, an annual masquerade in L.A. based on the movie. Isn't everything based on a movie around here?
So, Larry and I went to a Goth/Industrial club on Friday the 13th. The band we saw is STG, and Larry took photos of them. I had a good time. The Derby has a really cool, retro atmosphere; it used to be the major Swing club in L.A. I'm considering going to The Labyrinth Masquerade, an annual masquerade in L.A. based on the movie. Isn't everything based on a movie around here?
May 8, 2005
I'm not as crazy as I sound
After I received a number of concerned responses to my latest Abby Update, I realized that I sound like a crazed, overworked, 10-cups-a-day freak. Rest assured, this is NOT the case. My job is fun. I enjoy all of my writing projects. Yes, I have a lot going on, but most of it is self-imposed, because I love doing it. And I do take breaks and have fun! I have a social life, I live in a pretty neighborhood where I can go for walks or swimming, and I live with a really great guy. I'm not locked up in some room slaving away. But thank you for your concern! :-)
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