Month: April 2017

Weeding and Typing

Weeding today reminded me of typos, improper grammar and punctuation and general issues found in manuscripts.

I weed an area and move on. Turning around, I discover…more weeds, where I’d already weeded. The first time was considered, you know, an aberration. Surely the august self had merely overlooked one sector of weeds. But after the second and third times, my suspicions grew. With the fourth time, I concluded, I’m not missing the weeds: they’re growing behind my back.

That had to be the answer.

And while I chortled at my imagination and the secret plotting I now discerned among the weeds — “OMG, he knows,” — I reflected on how much this is like editing. You comb and comb for the mistakes. Satisfied that you found and corrected all the errors, you move on.

But at another time, maybe the same day, maybe a day a week from now or later, you open the doc or pick up the manuscript, and there is another error. 

They’re just like weeds. They seem to propagate on their own.

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Playing With A Full Deck

I’m riding on last week’s epiphany. To explain, only now exists. How now takes place and the scenes associated with it can be treated as a deck of cards. This has empowered my writing imagination. The principle isn’t mentioned in the novel, except one person notices it and treats it like a metaphor, but for me, understanding that each scene is another card permits more intelligent thinking and treatment.

The characters’ and their traits also open up. Pram’s decisions surprised him. He always thought he would put his team first. That it’s a challenge for him to do it opened up a window onto himself that he didn’t know was there. From this, he discovers weaknesses that he hid from himself but also grasps the observations others made about him. It’s a struggle to be stronger and more idealistic. He admires his team members even as he ponders betraying them. Exploring the scenes and permutations, I play with the frequency in which decisions are not value based or driven by logic or principles. Emotions, whims, weariness and frustration color and shadow choices. Sometimes our nature is stronger than ourselves. The battles with ourselves can be deep and endless.

None of the characters are inherently evil or good. Each seek to make the best choices they can, sometimes demonstrating callousness about others’ welfare, but justifying it through logical and philosophical acrobatics. Things happen fast. They make mistakes, and as now collapses on them, what’s going on isn’t always clear for them. Brett, in the center of this, is more removed from these debates and decisions. Being in the center puts him in a bubble where he can rarely see past the impacts on him and his existence.

Handley has been great fun to write. She surprises me. Her role grew. Her metamorphosis and the development process drove her into new territories. New skills were discovered, as was greater strength and determination. In all of this, I ended up asking and pondering, do we have one core person who dictates our behavior? One true being? 

Back to the Wrinkle, River Styx, Avalon, Lucky Gypsy and Mo Faux. Back to Handley, Pram, Brett, Richard, Forus Ker, and Philea. Back to the Travail, Humans, Sabard and Monad. Back to space.

Back to writing like crazy, at least one more time.

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Hate & Ignorance

Amazing that we have hate and ignorance being exposed here in liberal Ashland, Oregon.

A man, hair dresser by trade, has confessed that he’s frightened and bought a gun for his protection. Dark skinned, he’s from Hawaii. Ignorant people assume he’s from Mexico. “Go back to your own country,” they tell him. “Go back to Mexico.”

What needs to be expressed about such ignorance and hate? They’re being empowered by their pathetic legislators and are being fed a diet of such ideas out of right wing media, false news sites, and the tRump White House. I want to assume they’re ignorant; I don’t want to assume they’re making a conscious choice to be so hateful. I know some, like Steve Bannon, make a conscious choice to be hateful. That renders it sadder yet.

The others may have personal issues. Threatening people and acting violent and hateful may be an outlet for their own toxic lives. It compensates for their lack of direction, purpose and intelligence. I don’t know. Perhaps people that I think are lovely are actually such haters. I’ve been fooled before.

We had another Resist protest march this past Tuesday. The topic was SCOTUS nominee Neil Gorsuch. We applauded Senator Claire McCaskill’s comments regarding Gorsuch. She splendidly recounts why Gorsuch is such a horrible choice: “I cannot support Judge Gorsuch because a study of his opinions reveal a rigid ideology that always puts the little guy under the boot of corporations. He is evasive, but his body of work isn’t. Whether it is a freezing truck driver or an autistic child, he has shown a stunning lack of humanity. And he has been an activist — for example, writing a dissent on a case that had been settled, in what appears to be an attempt to audition for his current nomination.” The entire read is worthwhile.

We ended up detouring into side conversations, like Russia’s role in our last election, the fact that Republicans kept Obama from filling the vacancy and now claim that the ‘people have spoken’. Oh, the reek of bullshit.

Republican legislators are trying to avoid their constituents as their constituents express their anger and frustration with what’s happening in and with the Federal government. Voters have taken to attending town hall meetings with red disagree cards. Those brave Republican legislators are having anyone with such cards on them turned away. They are such cowards, and demonstrate fear and ignorance themselves. How can we expect more from their followers and supporters.

A woman wrote on Facebook, “Oh, you liberals. Quit whining. We’re not like North Korea. We’re not beheading people like ISIS is doing, or kidnapping people like they are in Africa.”

Such comments anger me. We’re striving for the highest ideals of freedom, justice, equality and tolerance, and you’re trying to lower the bar. No wonder you’re behind such an ignorant President.

Weeks like these are good for my waistline. I don’t eat too much. Reading about the political and business insanity kills my appetite.

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Catcism

Today, in a more serious tone, I need to address catcism.

Catcism is making decisions upon who you’ll spend time with and how much you like them based on their existence as cats.

Many catcists don’t acknowledge they’re catcists. “I like people,” they protest. “It’s just that cats like me. They like following me around, watching  me bath and shower, licking me dry afterward, sharing my food, sleeping with me, supervising my activities, marking my clothing with their fur so other cats don’t try to take me over when they let me out of their sight….

“I’m not the one with the problem. You people that complain that I spend too much time with cats are the ones with the problems. You’re just jealous because cats don’t like you like they like me.

“Sure, yes, I’ll admit, I do like cats,” they’ll continue. “I admire their independence and cleverness. Their antics amuse me, and they really love me. They ask nothing in return except that I feed and obey them, and make room for them wherever I’m sitting or sleeping. Most of all, they’re honest. They’ll never betray me.”

Yes, sadly, catcists can’t see their catcism for the cats.

 

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Today’s Theme Music

We’re streaming some Blues Traveler out of the Wayback Machine today.

The day has a retro feel to it. It feels like 1995 all over again. That wasn’t bad for me, nor great. Likewise, for the rest of the world. The US ‘had swung to the left’ again, and Bill Clinton was POTUS. He wasn’t left, but a master of the center. The voting population still remained left of him on our political spectrum. Still does today.

Back in 1995, I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do. I’d just retired, so I had my military pension. My wife was working for an ad agency but income from those two stories didn’t carry far in the Bay area. It wasn’t as bad as it is now, but the rising house and land prices were harbingers of what was to come.

Anyway, to the music.  The Blues Travelers had been around for a while but were making it onto the pop charts with ‘Run-Around’ in 1995. John Popper’s harmonica was unusual for pop music of that era. It’s a good song for putting your left foot in front of your right a few thousand times and perambulating down streets, sidewalks and trails. Singing it while walking about provides a fine feeling of freedom.

Sing it with them.

 

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The Pilgrim Effect

He awoke in a leather recliner that he didn’t know and stared at the large television screen.

White on black, 04/08/04 was shown. Beneath it said 3:02 AM. The two pieces of information floated around the screen like they were tied together.

The room was cold around him. He needed to pee. He needed to drink. He felt parched but also like his bladder was ready to burst. He stood to attend those matter.

Mental cohesion began undoing. He didn’t know the chair or the floor. The walls weren’t familiar, nor was the other furniture. He didn’t know them, but then, he did. They came to him like long ago learned and forgotten information, forgotten because it wasn’t used. Then he was saying to himself, “Oh, yes, I remember buying that recliner.” He regarded it with deeper thought.

But then, he didn’t remember this body. Taking in his hands, he processed their shape and condition. He understood, these are not the hands I fell asleep with. He understood, but these were the hands I fell asleep with.

Trying to reconcile the dichotomy between what he saw of himself and his furniture, he looked again at the television. At 3:04 AM, he should be going to bed. He should turn off the television. He looked for the control to do that, asking with irritation, “Where is the remote?” It should have been with him at the recliner. With that reasoning, he considered, maybe it fell between the cushions.

As this was thought, he saw a remote in his mind and knew that it was a virtual device generated by a chip in his skull. He just needed to think of the remote and what he wanted it to do, and the remote would do it. This was information that he should have already had, because he’d been doing that for years.

He reconsidered the date. He’d fallen asleep in twenty seventeen. That date said 04/08/04. The oh four was for twenty one oh four. Yes, because that’s what year it was. His hands looked different because he’d received a new body in twenty fifty-six for his one hundred birthday.

They’d told him this might happen. Becoming unstuck in time, he’d time-traveled in his dreams.

4

Personal Levels

Eva Lesko Natiello, author of ‘The Memory Box’ questioned, “Do readers need to like the protagonist?” in a Huffpost essay.

I thought, no. I think a reader needs to care about what will happen, given the situation, morality and ambiguity but I changed my wording from care about to need to know what will happen to the character.

Deciding I needed more input, I asked my wife, the reader, what she thought of the question. “No, readers don’t need to like any of the characters.” She offered as an example, ‘We Need to Talk About Kevin’, by Lionel Shriver. “That book was beautifully written. The story seemed so real that some people were confused as to whether it was true or fiction. I enjoyed the book, but I didn’t like any of the characters.”

Spoiler Alert Warning.

She continued, “The mother was cold and seemed emotionally distant. Her son was a screwed-up killer, who killed his father and his sister.” She didn’t like the father/husband at all. The daughter was a minor character who didn’t really play into her feelings.

Ms Natiello’s question prompted further thoughts. First, not all readers will bring or take the same aspect from novels. Considering readers’ reactions to books become fascinating. As Ms Natiello mentioned, she read a book review where a book was given one star. The comment was, “Hated the main character.”

Eva goes on about the things I’d thought. Some readers seem to think that it’s their duty to like the main character and base their reaction to the book on how they feel about the main character. It’s critical to one friend. A voracious reader, if she can’t like the main character, she can’t get into the book and won’t read it. Likewise, even if she reads the book, if she can’t relate to it on a personal level, she doesn’t like the book. Relating to the book on a personal level means that something she read in the book triggers a memory of a like experience. It’s a position that appalls me because it narrows the narrow aperture into which new experiences through books can enter.

Considering Eva’s question is a reminder of how personal books are to people, as readers or writers. I struggle with the idea of characters a reader will like or hate. My characters tend to be unreliable as narrators, betrayed by memory, expectations, emotions and intentions. It fascinates me to encounter people who believe they’re telling the truth but what they describe is completely contrary to what I witnessed. They’re not deliberately lying, but are viewing it through their own prism.

Likewise, because I will relate something different, it doesn’t mean that I’m correct, either. I can be just as flawed in what I witness and how I describe it.

Natiello’s post is an inviting read into these complexities. She concludes it as I would, “Most characters are not black and white. Personally, I love deeply flawed good guys and bad guys who elicit empathy. Other people like it when characters are strictly one or the other. Of course, I support anyone’s criteria for the books they choose to read. It’s a very personal decision, and it should be. I just don’t believe a book is bad because its characters may be.”

There you go. It’s an intriguing subject, and, like her, I wonder how other writers think about it.

6

Partly Weather

Our weather terminology needs a refresh. It’s partly cloudy today, they say. Walking through it, I agree, but it’s mostly sunny. It’s partly chilly, partly because of that breeze when you’re in a shadow. It’s also partly warm, with a partly warm breeze sneaking in. It looks like it’s mostly spring, but partly summer. It seems like it’s partly March, mostly April, and partly May.

What you experience might be different. That might be partly my fault for telling you what I’ve experienced, but it’s partly your fault for believing me.

4

Catdience

Catdience has two meanings. One, it can mean a gathering of cats to watch something take place. Secondly, catdience can refer to people watching cats.

For example, “Bumble leaped up and seized the door handle with her large front paws. In seconds, a catdience of workers formed. Breath held and eyes fixed on the cat, they watched as she moved her front paws until the door opened. As it did and she jumped down, sauntering out, the catdience members laughed. “That’s a smart cat,” a few said.”

But in the other way, the cats are gathering as spectators. “Hearing me get the luggage out, Meep, Tucker and Quinn came down. Sitting down, they watched me put the piece on the bed, continuing to study the situation as I unzipped the suitcase and opened it. More immediate scrutiny was deemed needed. The catdience jumped up to smell the scene and make it their own.”

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Today’s Theme Music

Today’s offering comes from my early teen-age years. My older sister was a Grand Funk Railroad fan, so I became one. I loved their live album, especially the ‘Into the Sun’ track.  They were the first rock group I really paid attention to, leading me to Alice Cooper, Humble Pie, Uriah Heep, Pink Floyd, Cream, Santana, Black Sabbath, and so on….

But today’s song is Grand Funk’s mainstream hit from 1973, ‘We’re An American Band’. It was so much different from their earlier work, to me, a sell out, IMO, back in the day. I was in high school and lived alone with my father during this period, waking myself up, going to school, cleaning house, preparing my meals for myself, washing my clothes. I didn’t see much of him.

I awoke with it ringing in my head, so here it is for you.

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