Come to My New Blog!

If you followed a link here from a comment I made on somebody's google blog, I would love to have you visit my blog, but this is no longer it. While I may occasionally post things here again once in a long while, virtually all my content will be at from here on out. If you were curious enough to come this far, why not give me one more click?

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

You know who I'd like to have a beer with?

I've heard a lot about how George W. Bush's success lies in the fact that people perceive him as a regular guy, someone they'd like to have a beer with. And hey, there's no arguing against taste, but I for one don't get it. I wouldn't have any particular interest in hanging out with the guy, taking in a football game or World Series of Poker or WWE or roller derby or whatever he's into. He comes across, to me, as a stereotypical frat boy (with apologies to any non-stereotypical frat boys who might happen to read this). He doesn't remind me of my buddies. My buddies and I have conversations where, whether we agree or not, at least we really probe the issues at hand, instead of just reducing them to sound bites. We don't oversimplify for each other. My buddies respect my intelligence and I respect theirs.

You know who I'd like to have a beer with?

This guy.

And that's about all I have to say about that.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Go me.

I don't know just how rare an achievement this is, but I am apparently a finalist in that short story contest I entered. W00t!

Also, I've cut off about 15,000 words from Vanishing Act. Lots more where that came from . . .

(And folks who ask to read short stories but then never provide any sort of reaction or response shouldn't throw stones . . . or, bitch about unupdated blogs . . . or, something like that.) :P

Monday, September 1, 2008

Why can't I just be brilliant?

I have pretty well suck-vacuumed chapter one. (I totally stole that phrase from Elizabeth Bear, but it's so dang apt!) It took two rewrites to do it. I'm not talking about mere editing or cleaning up, but substantial rewriting of pages of stuff. And hey, now I have a tight little seven-page chapter where Chris's voice comes through loud and clear. I have felt a vague reluctance to show my work before, but I feel nothing like that with this chapter now.

But Lord, I hope the rest of it's easier.

Sadly, though, this brings me to the conclusion that I am not one of those lucky few who can turn out final draft quality prose on the first run-through. I had thought perhaps I was. I mean, my first drafts are pretty clean when it comes to grammar and spelling, and I do a decent job of varying sentence structure without needing to think about it too much. I have a writing style that's natural and that I like. But that's where we get to the difference I have mentioned before between merely competent prose and, you know, writing that sings, that doesn't sound amateurish. Apparently that takes actual work.