Kevin Lucia's Blog, page 52
November 20, 2011
Bradbury Shelves, the Last
So, we've reached the end of my "Bradbury Shelves", and there's not much left to see. Down in the middle bottom is another chunk of coral reef from the bay at Ocho Rios, Jamaica. Next to that is a "Hiram" award I received from Tim Deal of Shroud Publishing, again, for my manic reviewing habits. Next to that is REAL 60's era Mountain Dew bottle, sitting on top of the very first box of emptied pens, these depleted whilst writing Hiram Grange & The Chosen One. To the left of the coral reef is a shot glass - ironically, a Christmas gift from a student's parent - which they brought back from their trip to St. Lucia. Obviously, this spawned lots of lame jokes about it being my native land, and all. On the shot glass, of course, is a ceramic bobble-head Hulk. Can't be without one of those.
Finishing things off, to the upper right, is the only baseball/softball glove I've ever owned. In high school I ran Track, but in junior high, I played slow pitch softball for our church team, and played sporadically through the years. As you can imagine, it's pretty worn in, by now. And, I took it to NECON several years ago for their annual softball game, which, because of the wicked heat, turned into a lack-luster batting contest instead.
AND, that's it. However, I have a few more things in my office of interest that just speaks of my quirky tastes.
I have a nice collection of animated movies, from garage sales, dollar stores, etc.They run the gamut: some original Marvel movies - Captain America, Iron Man, The Incredible Hulk. Also, a Highlander movie, and some Justice League action. While not a huge fantasy fan, there's the Lord of the Rings collection - the extended versions, too. On top is the original Transformers movie. 
Collection wouldn't be complete, of course, without Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel, also The Matrix Trilogy, Spider-man, Batman: The Dark Knight, the TV version of Stephen King's Salem's Lot - which I think is one of the better ones - and a nice box set of Transformers original series episodes. On top that is the pilot episode for V. I LOVED that show.
Book-ending my movies are some real classics. A G. I. Joe tape I found at a garage sale, the almost required Evil Dead (Hail to the King, Baby!) Blade Runner, some installments in the decently done 90's X-Men series, and, the best snag: two collections of Flash Gordon.
Now, Flash Gordon holds a special place in my heart, quite frankly. It's the first cartoon I can remember waiting in bated breath for the next week's episode. "We left the last episode with Flash and Gale trapped in the clutches of Emperor Ming! What's gonna happen now??"
Plus, it was full of strange monsters, weird planets, different people...that, also, is a DVD collection I'm hunting down one of these days, when I've got the money to burn.
Last but not least are my Star Wars shelves. At one time I prided myself on owning every single Star Wars novel written. Growing up, I was a Star Wars FANATIC. And for the longest time, there was NO Star Wars reading, past the Marvel comics series, the novelizations of the movies, (which I wore out), the Brian Daley Han Solo novels and the wonderful Splinter of the Mind's Eye, by Alan Dean Foster, which I discovered mostly by accident.
Then came Timothy Zahn and Heir to the Empire. From that point on, I vowed to own every Star Wars novel published. And for awhile, I stayed on track. Wrote a lot of my own fan fic, too. But eventually, I moved away from Star Wars, committed the cardinal sin, and lost track of the storylines. To catch up, I'd have to blitz through probably 10 or 11 novels. And maybe I will, someday. Anyway, even though I don't read them anymore, they still occupy a huge space in my genre background, simply because it was the first book series I almost obsessively followed.
And, that's it! Hope you've enjoyed me expounding on the trivialities that make up my office. Anyone else have a "Bradbury" shelf of their own?
November 19, 2011
Bradbury Shelves, Part 3
So, this section of my "Bradbury Shelf" isn't all that different from the rest. Near middle bottom, next to the "Big 30" mug are a collection of various tags from Cons I've attended the last three years. Chief among them is my first NECON badge, (the little bat-thing right next to the mug), and in front of that, my badge to the first Horrorfind I ever attended, when I foolishly paid $300 for a dealer table to sell nothing but scattered anthologies, (because The Hiram Grange Chronicles took much longer to produce than any of us thought), and also where I first met author Brian Keene. Every Horrorfind I've attended has been awesome, but you know what they say about firsts: somehow, nothing ever compares.
Behind the NECON badge peeks out a photo of what looks like an old house. An old, abandoned Victorian house in the middle of a cornfield, to be exact. Where I first decided I might want to write horror. For the full story behind that, read this article at Flames Rising. For some free fiction based on that house, go here and read The Sliding.
Behind that is a CD, a compilation Gardner Goldsmith made of short stories - tricked out in full radio production - dedicated to Necon's 30th Anniversary. Features one of my early short stories, "Therapy", and also another landmark...I started showing up with other writers in cool places.
At middle bottom - though you can't tell, probably - is the remains of a half smoked cigar in a little plastic baggie. Sounds ridiculous, but that comes from Context 22, when - MICHAEL KNOST, of all people - asked little nobody me if I wanted to share a cigar with him. Looped under that is a Shroud lanyard, and also an old "koosh" ball, given to me by a good friend long ago in high school. Why is it there? Random memories of good friends are just fun, period.
In the very middle is an old Prince Valiant comic. Now, I never read the comic book itself, and am not sure where I came across THAT, but it used to run in the Sunday comics, and I used to read it pretty regularly. The Sunday Comics used to be a BIG DEAL. Especially when Spider-Man and the Phantom used to run strips, so that comic reminds me of those.
To the right you'll see another issue of The Hulk, one of the first I bought on my own dime in high school, and it was this issue - in particular - when I really started buying into Dr. Banner's plight, and how no one understood what it was like carrying a monster around inside him. Right in front of that is a paper cup (just random) with a few pens in it, under that and next to it are two cases of full of emptied, used up pens. I have this thing: first of all, I'm addicted to ONE PEN: a Pilot G2 .07. In a pinch I'll write with anything, but given the choice, I'll take those every time.
And for some reason, during Hiram Grange & The Chosen One , I started saving them after they ran dry. And it's become a "thing". So, every Pilot G2 .07 I use and deplete, I save. Don't ask me to explain it. That's what "things" are. Things you do because you want to, but have no real explanation for. Next to that is an empty can of Gridlock Lo Carb Energy Drink. This probably seems really strange, but seeing as how I get up every morning at 3 AM to write, I NEED my caffeine. And I used to consume Monster Lo Carb by the liters.
But Monsters proved to be REALLY expensive. Almost three bucks a can. Two summers ago, I discovered Gridlock at Aldi's, for only .99 a can. And, can you beat it - they actually tasted better. So, I went "indie" (ironic, given the state of the publishing world) with a low-market energy drink, and it's worked out just fine. Behind that is a cool crossover issue featuring Batman and Spawn. It's a cool issue, and I liked Todd McFarlane's work. His Spiderman is still one of my favorite Spideys of all time. In front of that is one of Madi's first easter photos. With a live RABBIT, of all things. Terminally cute.
Above that? A framed picture of Abby and I, right before we got married. That's the picture we used in all the wedding invitations, I believe. Above that, ironically, is a science fiction encyclopedia given to me by an ex girlfriend who knew nothing about the genre and cared little for it. Sort of a "back-handed" gift, I guess you could say. Still a cool book, though.
In the middle: a blue plaque, given to me by Davis College for my one year stint as men's basketball coach, (same team that did so well and bought me the trophy on the other end of the shelf), and a "Teacher of the Quarter" award, from my first year teaching at Seton Catholic Central High School.
Behind that are two things you can barely see, because: 1. I haven't framed them yet; 2. the wall in my office is bare concrete, and I'd need masonry equipment to hang them in the first place. So I pulled both those up and took the following close-ups:
The poster with the blue "NJCAA", just barely visible in the above photo, is a banner from my college team's trip to the National Tournament my freshman year at Broome Community College. All my teammates signed it. I really need to frame it, keep it in as good a shape as I possibly can. And, ironically, years later - teammates Andy Slocum and Paul Morrissey have gone on to be a cartoonist and a stand-up comedian, respectively. 
The second is a poster for my first ever Barnes & Noble signing, back when I KNEW I was headed to the big time, after selling only two short stories, one to the first edition of The Midnight Diner, the other - which I never got paid for - to a sketchy publisher that went belly-up soon after it opened its doors. This was in the early days of POD, and loser publishers like this caused lots of the brick and mortar stores to stop stocking POD titles (at least, that's my theory). Anyway, at the time I was writing a weekly column in our city newspaper, actually had a "following" of sorts, so had a decent crowd at the signing. Better frame this baby, too. Way things look now - for publishing in general - may never do a solo signing in a Barnes & Noble ever again...
And that's it. Last installment of the Bradbury shelves comes tomorrow, with maybe some other supplemental fun stuff from my office...
Morning Mini-Thought: THIS Is What It's All About
A quick mini-blog for all you out there in dreamland.
It's 4:20 AM. Everyone is sleeping but me. The house is dead quiet, and I'm in my office, editing, shaping and bringing a story to life.
THIS is what it's all about. If I never attend another Con, I'll really miss my writing friends. If I only ever see publication in the small press and never really have many fans, I'll be dissapointed, sure.
But in the end, this moment, RIGHT NOW, mornings like these?
THIS is what it's all about.
THIS is WRITING.
Okay. Back to the BatCave, and back to work...
It's 4:20 AM. Everyone is sleeping but me. The house is dead quiet, and I'm in my office, editing, shaping and bringing a story to life.
THIS is what it's all about. If I never attend another Con, I'll really miss my writing friends. If I only ever see publication in the small press and never really have many fans, I'll be dissapointed, sure.
But in the end, this moment, RIGHT NOW, mornings like these?
THIS is what it's all about.
THIS is WRITING.
Okay. Back to the BatCave, and back to work...
November 18, 2011
Bradbury Shelves, Part 2
So, today's installment of my "Bradbury Shelves". Again, I committed a mistake, yesterday - the Horrorfind brochure I mentioned was actually this year's program. A really cool time. The program on the upper left is last year's Horrorfind program, which was a really a "turn-key" year for me. Knew a lot more people, and I could easily say more people knew me. Up behind that is a copy of Broome Community College's alumni newsletter, announcing the release of Hiram Grange & The Chosen One.
Just under that is a pretty cool DC/Darkhorse Comics crossover, featuring the new Green Lantern - Kyle - against one of those nasty Aliens. Don't know about anyone else, but I liked those DC/Darkhorse crossover featuring both Aliens and Predators. Right next to that is a pretty cool Punisher figurine/action figure.
Now, I was never a big fan of the Punisher, but when I taught junior high, I got into the habit of collecting all sorts of comic book action figures because my students tended to buy them for me at Christmas. They're not collectibles at all, really...except in sentiment...and most of them have since been passed on to Zack and Madi.
Center stage is a really crucial issue of The Hulk, from when I regularly followed the title. The Hulk is easily one of my favorite Marvel Heroes. Probably something about Bruce Banner having an uncontrollable, misunderstood monster inside him really appealed to me. I don't follow comics much anymore, but I can say that The Hulk was one I followed the longest.
In front of them: my name tag and author "name-plate" from AnthoCon, in it's first year, and easily one of the best Cons I've ever attended. Underneath my Con tag is a little leatherbound notebook a student gave me for Christmas, my first year of teaching high school. Now, students often give gifts, but this was from one of my best students, also a book lover herself, so it was probably the most thoughtful gift I'd received from a student at the time. I've since filled it with drafts and outlines and half-finished stories. Poems, too.
There's a really old baseball there. Not mine. I never played. But I got it from Dad, and though he never played organized baseball, he played a lot of stick ball, apparently. I've kept it this whole time, I think, just because it was his.
Off to the lower right is a mug someone gave me for my 30th birthday. Not high on the actual value scale, but it represents my wife's biggest, best surprise ever: my 30th birthday party. Totally blew me out of the water. I was coming home from a long trip, weary and tired, certainly not expecting my house to be filled with family and friends. One of the best surprises, ever.
On the very top, towards the right, are two plaques "given" to me by the kids (ergo: made by Abby, with the kid's names signed to them). I never take these things for granted, and these things are precious to me.
It should be noted that running along the entire shelf, supporting all these things, are old pulp novels, a lot of them circa 1918 (you can see a peak of them, middle right, right under some photo booth strips from one of the last summer boys' wedding). No real important, big names: lots of forgettable writers who've long since passed on, unrecognized by anyone. But when I was fourteen years old, my great grandmother started giving them to me, one book a month.
At the time, I was tired of YA fiction, and, if I wasn't ready for great fiction yet, I was certainly ready for something more intense, edgier. For several years, I read lots of really, really creepy noir, detective stories and crime/murder mysteries. A good share of westerns, too, including my first exposure to Riders of the Purple Sage.
My great grandmother promised that when she passed on, all those books would go to me. They did, and I promised myself I'd NEVER to throw them out, to keep them all. Seeing as how they played a HUGE part of building my genre foundations, I consider it only proper that they form the virtual "spine" of my Bradbury shelf...
November 17, 2011
Some Lighter Fare: My "Bradbury Shelves"
Things have been sorta heavy and serious around here lately, so it's time for a little lighter retrospective on my interests and background and shaping as a fan of all-round genre stuff. As I've said in the past, I can't say I found my roots as a kid in horror and monster movies and stories, but I was definitely drawn to different, out-of-the-box media which certainly shaped my interests.
Mostly adventure cartoons, in the beginning, ironically a few fantasy 'toons like Blackstar, Dungeons & Dragons (though I never really got on the He-Man train), Spider-Man & His Amazing Friends, Batman, Justice League of America, The Fantastic Four, Thing and Superfriends, of course. Jason of Star Command was a pretty cool live-action Star Wars-wanna-be show I barely remember glimpses of, except that I was absolutely obsessed with it. There's a DVD collection of all its episodes, and one of these days, I'm going to get it.
Some pretty cool short lived cartoons like Go-Bots, Pole Position, and of COURSE Transformers. When a bit older, G. I. Joe and ThunderCats occupied top spot for my animated affections, and when I moved into comics, I was all over the map.
My aunt used to get me a comic subscription every year for my birthday. First came Star Wars, then G. I. Joe, Transformers, ThunderCats, The Secret Defenders and New Defenders, and after awhile, Dad allowed me to buy one comic every month at the Reader's Island, at pretty cool magazine kiosk at our local mall. My tastes were pretty eclectic, ranging from The Hulk to Batman. Later in college, I encountered Johnny Blaze/Ghost Rider, and really followed the Hulk and various X-men titles for awhile. Of course, I was all over the Death of Superman and Knightfall titles.
And of course, the Christmas gift that practical, engineering, nonfiction-reading Dad probably regrets giving to this day: in junior high, my first box-set of Original Five Year Mission Star Trek novels. Even more than Star Wars (because the first NEW SW novel wasn't released until after high school graduation) Star Trek was my first Sci Fi love.
At that time, I knew nothing of the movies or television shows. For me, Jim and Spock and Bones existed only in print, and that's it. By my senior year of high school, I encountered Isaac Asimov's Foundation series, but for a long time, I gravitated back to Star Trek and Star Wars.
Even as my genre interests are varied, so are my interests, period. I just like lots of different STUFF. I think that's why I love author Norman Partridge's blog so much. Sure, he blogs about writing and the writing life and all that, but mostly, he blogs about stuff he likes. About things that interest him, and things that inspired him. Seems so much more genuine than pre-determined posts with a topic and question calculated to draw a certain number of comments for maximum website exposure.
I know that's a big thing these days for authors, and while I sorta admire the ability to draw that much attention to a website, I tire of it, don't read those blogs very often, because they just seem to rehash the same topics they know will draw attention. That, quite frankly, bores me.
Anyway, Norm has what he likes to call his "Bradbury Shelves". He details the inspiration of these shelves stuffed full of nostalgia here, here and here. Now, I don't have anything nearly as impressive as Norm does, and a lot of the stuff on my own "Bradbury" shelf I've collected over the last 10-15 years, not from when I was a kid. There's some fun stuff there, though, so I thought I'd cover bits of it for a few blogs.
A note: My "shelf" has moved around a lot, in different rooms and places. Right now it's in my new office (which is really a work/tool room) on pretty plain shelving. But, w/o further ado, he's segment #1:
So, the big basketball trophy to the left has NOTHING to do with writing at all, but has huge memories attached to it. Basically, at a really BAD time in my life, right after breaking things off with my ex-fiance, I was handed the opportunity to coach a small college's men's basketball team. Supposed to be the assistant coach, but the head coach left unexpectedly.
I played four years of college hoops, basketball was actually my first love, but I'd never coached before. Had no clue. So I figure one thing: "We're small and fast. So we need to outrun everyone. And to do that, I need to condition the heck out of them." Luckily, I had a team of rock-hard, determined kids, led by three extra-hard senior captains.
They did everything I asked of them and more. We defied all expectations, turned in a winning season, and lost in the Regionals by 3 points, two steps shy of our National Tournament. And the best part is, the players pitched in and bought that trophy for me. Importance? It was really the first time I felt like a leader, of any kind.
The book immediate next to it, More Scary Stories? That whole series fascinated me in elementary school, and I guess you could say that's where my love of this stuff came from. Those simple stories freaked me out, but I couldn't stop reading them. Prediction of the future....?
Anyway, holding it in place is a chunk of coral reef from the bay of Ocho Rios, Jamaica. My last year of college basketball, our team traveled to Jamaica, stayed there for a week, running camps and outreach programs, and we played a technical college and the Jamaican Junior National Team. I got that coral reef snorkeling. Saw a swordfish and almost freaked out, thought it was a shark...
You see the old fashioned Coke bottle? (really, one of the reissues from the eighties) I've got a bunch of those and REALLY old bottles, from the fifties and sixties. I think they look cool, and also, I firmly believe soda tasted WAY better bottled in glass than they do now.
Of course, a Hess Truck. Classic kid's gift. Will always keep it. Just wish I'd kept it in better shape, because you can't find those original ones ANYWHERE, now.
Between the coral and Hess truck are two medals I received when my college basketball team went to the National Tournament freshman year. Though not a big scorer, I started almost every game and played a lot. Would like to think I made a difference. Anyway, those medals aren't worth much, except my high school team always posted losing seasons, so that one year of college basketball pretty much wiped out four years of frustration for me, as a player.
To the far right is a program for Horrorfind 10, my very first Horrorfind, and when I first meet author Brian Keene. Every Horrorfind gets better and better, but you know what they say about firsts. Can never top those, really.
And of course, peeking out the top is my first Hiram Grange Award for my manic reviewing habits, and also, behind the Coke bottle is an AnthoCon program, a first of it's kind (and hopefully not last) also. Next to the Hiram Award is one of the very pictures taken of Madi and I, with me - of course - reading to her. Behind another bottle is a thank you card signed by the entire Seton HS cast of Romeo & Juliet. I played Prince Escalus.
Okay. Next section of my Bradbury shelf, tomorrow...
Mostly adventure cartoons, in the beginning, ironically a few fantasy 'toons like Blackstar, Dungeons & Dragons (though I never really got on the He-Man train), Spider-Man & His Amazing Friends, Batman, Justice League of America, The Fantastic Four, Thing and Superfriends, of course. Jason of Star Command was a pretty cool live-action Star Wars-wanna-be show I barely remember glimpses of, except that I was absolutely obsessed with it. There's a DVD collection of all its episodes, and one of these days, I'm going to get it.Some pretty cool short lived cartoons like Go-Bots, Pole Position, and of COURSE Transformers. When a bit older, G. I. Joe and ThunderCats occupied top spot for my animated affections, and when I moved into comics, I was all over the map.
My aunt used to get me a comic subscription every year for my birthday. First came Star Wars, then G. I. Joe, Transformers, ThunderCats, The Secret Defenders and New Defenders, and after awhile, Dad allowed me to buy one comic every month at the Reader's Island, at pretty cool magazine kiosk at our local mall. My tastes were pretty eclectic, ranging from The Hulk to Batman. Later in college, I encountered Johnny Blaze/Ghost Rider, and really followed the Hulk and various X-men titles for awhile. Of course, I was all over the Death of Superman and Knightfall titles.
And of course, the Christmas gift that practical, engineering, nonfiction-reading Dad probably regrets giving to this day: in junior high, my first box-set of Original Five Year Mission Star Trek novels. Even more than Star Wars (because the first NEW SW novel wasn't released until after high school graduation) Star Trek was my first Sci Fi love.
At that time, I knew nothing of the movies or television shows. For me, Jim and Spock and Bones existed only in print, and that's it. By my senior year of high school, I encountered Isaac Asimov's Foundation series, but for a long time, I gravitated back to Star Trek and Star Wars.
Even as my genre interests are varied, so are my interests, period. I just like lots of different STUFF. I think that's why I love author Norman Partridge's blog so much. Sure, he blogs about writing and the writing life and all that, but mostly, he blogs about stuff he likes. About things that interest him, and things that inspired him. Seems so much more genuine than pre-determined posts with a topic and question calculated to draw a certain number of comments for maximum website exposure.
I know that's a big thing these days for authors, and while I sorta admire the ability to draw that much attention to a website, I tire of it, don't read those blogs very often, because they just seem to rehash the same topics they know will draw attention. That, quite frankly, bores me.
Anyway, Norm has what he likes to call his "Bradbury Shelves". He details the inspiration of these shelves stuffed full of nostalgia here, here and here. Now, I don't have anything nearly as impressive as Norm does, and a lot of the stuff on my own "Bradbury" shelf I've collected over the last 10-15 years, not from when I was a kid. There's some fun stuff there, though, so I thought I'd cover bits of it for a few blogs.
A note: My "shelf" has moved around a lot, in different rooms and places. Right now it's in my new office (which is really a work/tool room) on pretty plain shelving. But, w/o further ado, he's segment #1:
So, the big basketball trophy to the left has NOTHING to do with writing at all, but has huge memories attached to it. Basically, at a really BAD time in my life, right after breaking things off with my ex-fiance, I was handed the opportunity to coach a small college's men's basketball team. Supposed to be the assistant coach, but the head coach left unexpectedly.
I played four years of college hoops, basketball was actually my first love, but I'd never coached before. Had no clue. So I figure one thing: "We're small and fast. So we need to outrun everyone. And to do that, I need to condition the heck out of them." Luckily, I had a team of rock-hard, determined kids, led by three extra-hard senior captains.
They did everything I asked of them and more. We defied all expectations, turned in a winning season, and lost in the Regionals by 3 points, two steps shy of our National Tournament. And the best part is, the players pitched in and bought that trophy for me. Importance? It was really the first time I felt like a leader, of any kind.
The book immediate next to it, More Scary Stories? That whole series fascinated me in elementary school, and I guess you could say that's where my love of this stuff came from. Those simple stories freaked me out, but I couldn't stop reading them. Prediction of the future....?
Anyway, holding it in place is a chunk of coral reef from the bay of Ocho Rios, Jamaica. My last year of college basketball, our team traveled to Jamaica, stayed there for a week, running camps and outreach programs, and we played a technical college and the Jamaican Junior National Team. I got that coral reef snorkeling. Saw a swordfish and almost freaked out, thought it was a shark...
You see the old fashioned Coke bottle? (really, one of the reissues from the eighties) I've got a bunch of those and REALLY old bottles, from the fifties and sixties. I think they look cool, and also, I firmly believe soda tasted WAY better bottled in glass than they do now.
Of course, a Hess Truck. Classic kid's gift. Will always keep it. Just wish I'd kept it in better shape, because you can't find those original ones ANYWHERE, now.
Between the coral and Hess truck are two medals I received when my college basketball team went to the National Tournament freshman year. Though not a big scorer, I started almost every game and played a lot. Would like to think I made a difference. Anyway, those medals aren't worth much, except my high school team always posted losing seasons, so that one year of college basketball pretty much wiped out four years of frustration for me, as a player.
To the far right is a program for Horrorfind 10, my very first Horrorfind, and when I first meet author Brian Keene. Every Horrorfind gets better and better, but you know what they say about firsts. Can never top those, really.
And of course, peeking out the top is my first Hiram Grange Award for my manic reviewing habits, and also, behind the Coke bottle is an AnthoCon program, a first of it's kind (and hopefully not last) also. Next to the Hiram Award is one of the very pictures taken of Madi and I, with me - of course - reading to her. Behind another bottle is a thank you card signed by the entire Seton HS cast of Romeo & Juliet. I played Prince Escalus.
Okay. Next section of my Bradbury shelf, tomorrow...
November 15, 2011
How I Want to Be: AnthoCon Retrospective, Part 2: Who Do I Play With?
So, here's part two. On a much more personal note. And, while I've gotten lots of comments lately on how refreshing it is to read my blog because of its forthrightness and honestly, understand this: these are my opinions only, my musings about how I think things should go for me. And NO ONE should ever take offense, ever.
That having been said, let's hop into the way-back machine. Back in high school, a young guy named Kevin Lucia (who wrote every now and then in a spiral Mead notebook, not really understanding what he was doing) was obsessed with basketball. He ate, drank, breathed, slept, dreamed, lived basketball, 24/7.
And he was good. One of the best players on the high school team, a 4-year varsity starter, (though it should be noted he played for a pretty small high school) destined to play Junior College and Division III basketball. But, the thing was, this kid had an all-consuming drive to become the best basketball player he could be. So he lifted weights and ran wind-sprints over the summer. Jumped rope. And played, all the time.
Oh, did he play.
He also attended a high-profile, week long basketball camp every summer. At these camps, he ran through drills, played games, lived basketball for a whole week, under the direction of top-flight coaches.
And there were lots of players there. The all-stars, super players, players better them him: the elite. The cool kids. The superstars. And of course, Kevin wanted to hang around them, for lots of reasons. Sure, because it was nice hanging out in their glow. But also, he hoped to get asked to play in their pick-up games. Because he knew the only way to get better was to play against people better than him. Have them trash him, and he desperately wanted that, because he wanted to get better.
At these basketball camps, there were also players his level and beneath his level. And they were usually pretty cool, nice guys. Quite frankly, some of them a lot nicer than the "super stars", and even if they weren't improving in the game as quickly as others, they still loved to play. But Kevin noticed that some of them didn't take the game very seriously. Mostly played 'horse' or '21' or 'knockout', just goofing around. And that was fine, too. Because you can't take everything deadly serious, all the time.
But he noticed, also, that some of those guys not only didn't like the superstars, they loathed them. Built up lots of angst towards them, and believed THEY were superior to the super stars, because they didn't need to suck up to them. "We don't need to hang out with those guys," this group claimed (well, some of them did). "We're better than that."
Now, this left Kevin in quite a quandary. He wanted to get better, was determined to get better. So he was determined to hang-out with the big boys, be ready in an instant to run with them, so he could get knocked around and get better. But, to be frank, sometimes the big boys only wanted their own buddies around, which made sense, and was fine, too. The little guys didn't own the corner market on 'true friendship'. These guys were true friends with each other too, and sometimes just wanted to be with their own.
But some of the little guys? The ones who (some of them) stuck their noses in the air and claimed they were better than the big boys? Well, they felt the big guys were being exclusionary big meanies, and sometimes that attitude was just annoying. Didn't make sense. And, in the process, became not fun.
And then, young Kevin's gaze drifted to a hoop on a far away, empty court at the back of camp. He decideded to go over to that hoop by himself and shoot running jump shots until his legs wouldn't carry him anymore, do lay-up drills until he got dizzy, lose himself in the bammita-bammita rhythm of a dozen dribbling drills, and shoot free throws until his arms turned to rubber. By himself. Because sometimes, you just need to do it by yourself. And let everyone else go their own way.
Now.
This scenario by no means has a 1 - 1 ratio with the world of publishing as I see it. But reflections of it? These I do see. And it also made me question my intentions when attending Cons: am I there merely to gleam off the super-stars, the big boys, trying to hang in their wake, and...in rather base terms....suck up? And, if I ever do become a big boy...will I leave others behind, folks who maybe don't move at the same speed in their careers, or maybe aren't writers at all?
And what about my family? My wife and kids? Will I keep balance? Will I NOT lose hold of them and everything I hold dear in the pursuit of this big, great dream of mine that's so enticing, so tempting, it can suck even a strong person down in a minute. Will I make sure NOT to leave them out, or behind?
But, should I then turn my nose up at those big folks, scorn their advice, dismiss them as being too "big to hang out with us" (which is patently untrue), maintain that I don't need those big boys? (a huge mistake) And, how petty of me to assume that the big boys don't have close friends of their own they'd like to hang with, for a change?
Maybe I'm blowing this out of proportion. Over-thinking things (which, as my students know, I'm prone to doing). But...once again, as I've so often come to over the past three years...balance is central to everything, especially figuring out a writing career, while remaining true to one's own values, and most of all, their loved ones AND friends.
Because - and this is NOT meant to point out anyone or anything in particular - I see things. I observe. Watch. Wait. And think.
And remember. Because I see things I don't like. And I worry, how to be me...but still run with the big dogs (or try to) without being an annoying, glory-sucking hanger-on, and I want to hang out with my friends, and I want to stay friends with them.
I want to shoot for the stars. But I want to stay consistent.
I want to be me.
Not sure if I've come to an answer, here. Not sure if there is an answer, really. And none of this comes from AnthoCon itself, except that I hung out with some really good, supportive friends this weekend....and I don't want to leave them behind. And, I don't want to get sucked into the Con circuit whirlpool, and forget real life.
My biggest problem? I just want everything to be simple.
And, let's face it - life is not simple.
But I do know this - Con season is over, and again, finances being what they are, who knows what Con I'll attend next. But that's okay. Because see that court all the way in the back, the one no one is using? It's time to go off by myself, BE myself, and shoot running jump shots until I can't run, anymore.
Because that, in the end, is what it's all about. Something simple. Because there's only so much I can control, but, really, considering the things I CAN control: my work habits, effort, behavior, treatment of others, stewardship of my family....
There's SO much I CAN control.
It's simple.
But, then again, simple isn't easy.
That having been said, let's hop into the way-back machine. Back in high school, a young guy named Kevin Lucia (who wrote every now and then in a spiral Mead notebook, not really understanding what he was doing) was obsessed with basketball. He ate, drank, breathed, slept, dreamed, lived basketball, 24/7.
And he was good. One of the best players on the high school team, a 4-year varsity starter, (though it should be noted he played for a pretty small high school) destined to play Junior College and Division III basketball. But, the thing was, this kid had an all-consuming drive to become the best basketball player he could be. So he lifted weights and ran wind-sprints over the summer. Jumped rope. And played, all the time.
Oh, did he play.
He also attended a high-profile, week long basketball camp every summer. At these camps, he ran through drills, played games, lived basketball for a whole week, under the direction of top-flight coaches.
And there were lots of players there. The all-stars, super players, players better them him: the elite. The cool kids. The superstars. And of course, Kevin wanted to hang around them, for lots of reasons. Sure, because it was nice hanging out in their glow. But also, he hoped to get asked to play in their pick-up games. Because he knew the only way to get better was to play against people better than him. Have them trash him, and he desperately wanted that, because he wanted to get better.
At these basketball camps, there were also players his level and beneath his level. And they were usually pretty cool, nice guys. Quite frankly, some of them a lot nicer than the "super stars", and even if they weren't improving in the game as quickly as others, they still loved to play. But Kevin noticed that some of them didn't take the game very seriously. Mostly played 'horse' or '21' or 'knockout', just goofing around. And that was fine, too. Because you can't take everything deadly serious, all the time.
But he noticed, also, that some of those guys not only didn't like the superstars, they loathed them. Built up lots of angst towards them, and believed THEY were superior to the super stars, because they didn't need to suck up to them. "We don't need to hang out with those guys," this group claimed (well, some of them did). "We're better than that."
Now, this left Kevin in quite a quandary. He wanted to get better, was determined to get better. So he was determined to hang-out with the big boys, be ready in an instant to run with them, so he could get knocked around and get better. But, to be frank, sometimes the big boys only wanted their own buddies around, which made sense, and was fine, too. The little guys didn't own the corner market on 'true friendship'. These guys were true friends with each other too, and sometimes just wanted to be with their own.
But some of the little guys? The ones who (some of them) stuck their noses in the air and claimed they were better than the big boys? Well, they felt the big guys were being exclusionary big meanies, and sometimes that attitude was just annoying. Didn't make sense. And, in the process, became not fun.
And then, young Kevin's gaze drifted to a hoop on a far away, empty court at the back of camp. He decideded to go over to that hoop by himself and shoot running jump shots until his legs wouldn't carry him anymore, do lay-up drills until he got dizzy, lose himself in the bammita-bammita rhythm of a dozen dribbling drills, and shoot free throws until his arms turned to rubber. By himself. Because sometimes, you just need to do it by yourself. And let everyone else go their own way.
Now.
This scenario by no means has a 1 - 1 ratio with the world of publishing as I see it. But reflections of it? These I do see. And it also made me question my intentions when attending Cons: am I there merely to gleam off the super-stars, the big boys, trying to hang in their wake, and...in rather base terms....suck up? And, if I ever do become a big boy...will I leave others behind, folks who maybe don't move at the same speed in their careers, or maybe aren't writers at all?
And what about my family? My wife and kids? Will I keep balance? Will I NOT lose hold of them and everything I hold dear in the pursuit of this big, great dream of mine that's so enticing, so tempting, it can suck even a strong person down in a minute. Will I make sure NOT to leave them out, or behind?
But, should I then turn my nose up at those big folks, scorn their advice, dismiss them as being too "big to hang out with us" (which is patently untrue), maintain that I don't need those big boys? (a huge mistake) And, how petty of me to assume that the big boys don't have close friends of their own they'd like to hang with, for a change?
Maybe I'm blowing this out of proportion. Over-thinking things (which, as my students know, I'm prone to doing). But...once again, as I've so often come to over the past three years...balance is central to everything, especially figuring out a writing career, while remaining true to one's own values, and most of all, their loved ones AND friends.
Because - and this is NOT meant to point out anyone or anything in particular - I see things. I observe. Watch. Wait. And think.
And remember. Because I see things I don't like. And I worry, how to be me...but still run with the big dogs (or try to) without being an annoying, glory-sucking hanger-on, and I want to hang out with my friends, and I want to stay friends with them.
I want to shoot for the stars. But I want to stay consistent.
I want to be me.
Not sure if I've come to an answer, here. Not sure if there is an answer, really. And none of this comes from AnthoCon itself, except that I hung out with some really good, supportive friends this weekend....and I don't want to leave them behind. And, I don't want to get sucked into the Con circuit whirlpool, and forget real life.
My biggest problem? I just want everything to be simple.
And, let's face it - life is not simple.
But I do know this - Con season is over, and again, finances being what they are, who knows what Con I'll attend next. But that's okay. Because see that court all the way in the back, the one no one is using? It's time to go off by myself, BE myself, and shoot running jump shots until I can't run, anymore.
Because that, in the end, is what it's all about. Something simple. Because there's only so much I can control, but, really, considering the things I CAN control: my work habits, effort, behavior, treatment of others, stewardship of my family....
There's SO much I CAN control.
It's simple.
But, then again, simple isn't easy.
November 14, 2011
How I Want to Be: AnthoCon Retrospective, Part 1: Thank You, Brian Keene
Before I say another word, at this point, every horror/speculative fiction fan should memorize the following equation:
Shroud Publishing and AnthoCon = Absolute Quality and Awesomeness In Every Way
Now that we have that out of the way, go buy tons of Shroud stuff while reading this blog. First off, a truly awesome weekend with awesome people, too many to name here. A great way to end the Con season. And not only did the Four Horsemen of Shroud put on a simply awesome gathering, but I experienced a few revelations this past weekend when it came to whatever future "career" I might have.
But first....do you want to write horror? Do you? Really? In that case, go read Brian Keene's keynote address for AnthoCon right now. Know why?
Because this post typifies my journey as a writer this past year and a half. Basically, Brian Keene was speaking about me (and many other horror writers, also).
So, to the point (and this is like confessing at A. A.): "Hi, my name is Kevin Lucia, and I used to think horror was only blood and guts and demons and the only horror I read is Dean Koontz, Stephen King and Peter Straub. Wait, other people have written/write horror?"
This would've been me a few years ago. Admittedly, I hesitated to call myself a horror writer, and those were the only three horror writers I ever read. So, I was TOTALLY that young writer completely uninformed of the genre's history, and because of that, I didn't want to own up to the label "horror writer". Well, actually, I hate labels PERIOD, and have come to believe I write lots of stuff, some of it horror.
But I digress.
Anyway, my reading tastes were rather narrow. Things got better when I started reviewing for Shroud and got on the Leisure Fiction reviewer list (before they went all sploedy), but even then, still narrow.
This started changing when I read Norman Prentiss' Invisible Fences. Quiet, haunting, atmospheric, artful, built on quality storytelling, indepth character study NOT hinging on overloads of gore, I thought for perhaps the first time: "Hey. I think I can write this. THIS is something I really LOVE, and would LOVE to do."
Some compared Norman to this guy named Charles Grant. I thought: "Well, I liked Norm's work, let's check out this Grant guy."
And, phase one was complete. From the word go, the respectful restraint of Grant's prose, its flow and beauty, it's insightful storylines....THIS was something of SUBSTANCE (for me, anyway).
Then, wandering through a used book vender at Necon, I grabbed a book called The Place, by some guy named T. M. Wright.
Phase Two, complete. T. M. Wright has been called a "one man definition of 'quiet horror' ". And lo, I suddenly saw a glimpse of what I'd want to do with my future.
Quiet horror.
Now, Hiram Grange isn't quiet horror, but it's not straight up horror, either. Neither is the current project, being a HUGE genre-blend. But quiet horror.
It struck deep resonance, with me.
The final phase occurred when I spent an evening with legends Tom Monteleone and F. Paul Wilson. If you don't want to read the whole thing, here's a snippet:
"Their first night in Binghamton, Tom and Paul invited me to hang out. That in itself blew me away. I mean - they're tremendously friendly, giving, wonderful guys anyway - but even so. That they thought of me means the world, especially because, in Paul's words, he'd said to Tom before calling me: "Gotta get Kevin over here. He'd love this."
They were visiting Stuart David Schiff, editor of the legendary Whispers horror/sci fi/fantasy anthologies (of which before then I'd only heard "whispers" about). It never ceases to amaze me how many genre figures hide out in Binghamton. Of course, as the hometown of Rod Serling, that makes sense, I suppose.
Anyway. Stuart is not only a former editor, but a collector extraordinaire. And that doesn't even do the man justice. Over the years, he's jammed his basement full of collectibles, so many, it boggles the mind.
The captain's chair from the original Enterprise. And one from a Klingon warship. And those were two of his minor pieces. I can't, I simply CAN'T put into words what I saw that evening. Original prints of movie posters. Tomes of weird fiction by authors I'd only barely heard of. Figurines. LIFE-SIZE PAPER MACHE TIGERS FROM LONDON. Original studio horror props.
UN. REAL.
The biggest treat of the night was sharing WONDERFUL Chinese from a place in my own town I've never heard of - Moon Star - and listening to Tom and Paul and David reminisce on the genre's early days, their own careers, and everything under the sun concerning writing, publishing, horror, fantasy, and science fiction.
Tom and Paul repeatedly apologized, worried they were "waxing philosophical" and "boring the hell out of me" (an approximation of Tom's words). They needn't have worried. They weren't boring me. Far from it. They were totally, completely, taking me to school.
Faced with a basement full of absolute genre and even cultural memorabilia gold, and enthralled by their stories, I realized two very humbling, awesome things:
1. I knew next to NOTHING of genre fiction's history
2. I had virtually no genre heritage of my own. Not as rich as theirs, anyway."
Final Phase: Initiated.
So, I've spent the time since then reading primarily old stuff, with the exception of new stuff by authors I love. Tracked down almost all the Whispers anthologies. Shadows. More Grant and Wright. Saranntino. Ramsey Campbell. Fritz Lieber. Manley Wade Wellman. John Farris. Ed Gorman. J. N. Williamson. Karl Edward Wagner.
And I've been growing. Realizing that half the ideas I thought were good have already been done. And also, realizing there's plenty of room to move in the horror genre for me to write stuff I feel really good about, stuff true to me.
So, hearing Brian deliver that keynote address? Sounds corny, I know...but I felt like he was talking about me, to me.
Thanks, Brian. I'm still studying, still learning. And, I'm a bit late. But I'd rather read more of this stuff, and write less. Because then maybe the stuff I do write will be a lot more informed.
Part two - something much more personal - coming soon....
Shroud Publishing and AnthoCon = Absolute Quality and Awesomeness In Every Way
Now that we have that out of the way, go buy tons of Shroud stuff while reading this blog. First off, a truly awesome weekend with awesome people, too many to name here. A great way to end the Con season. And not only did the Four Horsemen of Shroud put on a simply awesome gathering, but I experienced a few revelations this past weekend when it came to whatever future "career" I might have.
But first....do you want to write horror? Do you? Really? In that case, go read Brian Keene's keynote address for AnthoCon right now. Know why?
Because this post typifies my journey as a writer this past year and a half. Basically, Brian Keene was speaking about me (and many other horror writers, also).
So, to the point (and this is like confessing at A. A.): "Hi, my name is Kevin Lucia, and I used to think horror was only blood and guts and demons and the only horror I read is Dean Koontz, Stephen King and Peter Straub. Wait, other people have written/write horror?"
This would've been me a few years ago. Admittedly, I hesitated to call myself a horror writer, and those were the only three horror writers I ever read. So, I was TOTALLY that young writer completely uninformed of the genre's history, and because of that, I didn't want to own up to the label "horror writer". Well, actually, I hate labels PERIOD, and have come to believe I write lots of stuff, some of it horror.
But I digress.
Anyway, my reading tastes were rather narrow. Things got better when I started reviewing for Shroud and got on the Leisure Fiction reviewer list (before they went all sploedy), but even then, still narrow.
This started changing when I read Norman Prentiss' Invisible Fences. Quiet, haunting, atmospheric, artful, built on quality storytelling, indepth character study NOT hinging on overloads of gore, I thought for perhaps the first time: "Hey. I think I can write this. THIS is something I really LOVE, and would LOVE to do."
Some compared Norman to this guy named Charles Grant. I thought: "Well, I liked Norm's work, let's check out this Grant guy."
And, phase one was complete. From the word go, the respectful restraint of Grant's prose, its flow and beauty, it's insightful storylines....THIS was something of SUBSTANCE (for me, anyway).
Then, wandering through a used book vender at Necon, I grabbed a book called The Place, by some guy named T. M. Wright.
Phase Two, complete. T. M. Wright has been called a "one man definition of 'quiet horror' ". And lo, I suddenly saw a glimpse of what I'd want to do with my future.
Quiet horror.
Now, Hiram Grange isn't quiet horror, but it's not straight up horror, either. Neither is the current project, being a HUGE genre-blend. But quiet horror.
It struck deep resonance, with me.
The final phase occurred when I spent an evening with legends Tom Monteleone and F. Paul Wilson. If you don't want to read the whole thing, here's a snippet:
"Their first night in Binghamton, Tom and Paul invited me to hang out. That in itself blew me away. I mean - they're tremendously friendly, giving, wonderful guys anyway - but even so. That they thought of me means the world, especially because, in Paul's words, he'd said to Tom before calling me: "Gotta get Kevin over here. He'd love this."
They were visiting Stuart David Schiff, editor of the legendary Whispers horror/sci fi/fantasy anthologies (of which before then I'd only heard "whispers" about). It never ceases to amaze me how many genre figures hide out in Binghamton. Of course, as the hometown of Rod Serling, that makes sense, I suppose.
Anyway. Stuart is not only a former editor, but a collector extraordinaire. And that doesn't even do the man justice. Over the years, he's jammed his basement full of collectibles, so many, it boggles the mind.
The captain's chair from the original Enterprise. And one from a Klingon warship. And those were two of his minor pieces. I can't, I simply CAN'T put into words what I saw that evening. Original prints of movie posters. Tomes of weird fiction by authors I'd only barely heard of. Figurines. LIFE-SIZE PAPER MACHE TIGERS FROM LONDON. Original studio horror props.
UN. REAL.
The biggest treat of the night was sharing WONDERFUL Chinese from a place in my own town I've never heard of - Moon Star - and listening to Tom and Paul and David reminisce on the genre's early days, their own careers, and everything under the sun concerning writing, publishing, horror, fantasy, and science fiction.
Tom and Paul repeatedly apologized, worried they were "waxing philosophical" and "boring the hell out of me" (an approximation of Tom's words). They needn't have worried. They weren't boring me. Far from it. They were totally, completely, taking me to school.
Faced with a basement full of absolute genre and even cultural memorabilia gold, and enthralled by their stories, I realized two very humbling, awesome things:
1. I knew next to NOTHING of genre fiction's history
2. I had virtually no genre heritage of my own. Not as rich as theirs, anyway."
Final Phase: Initiated.
So, I've spent the time since then reading primarily old stuff, with the exception of new stuff by authors I love. Tracked down almost all the Whispers anthologies. Shadows. More Grant and Wright. Saranntino. Ramsey Campbell. Fritz Lieber. Manley Wade Wellman. John Farris. Ed Gorman. J. N. Williamson. Karl Edward Wagner.
And I've been growing. Realizing that half the ideas I thought were good have already been done. And also, realizing there's plenty of room to move in the horror genre for me to write stuff I feel really good about, stuff true to me.
So, hearing Brian deliver that keynote address? Sounds corny, I know...but I felt like he was talking about me, to me.
Thanks, Brian. I'm still studying, still learning. And, I'm a bit late. But I'd rather read more of this stuff, and write less. Because then maybe the stuff I do write will be a lot more informed.
Part two - something much more personal - coming soon....
November 11, 2011
AnthoCon 2011: My Support Group
So, I'm heading up to AnthoCon, my last Con of the year. I'll be rooming with fellow Hiram Grange Scribe Scott Christian Carr, I'll be signing copies of Hiram Grange & The Chosen One all weekend long, I'll be speaking on the following panel Saturday at 1:00:
Reaching Through the Veil: Channeling myth, religion, spirituality and the collective unconscious in imaginative fiction
An examination of the unseen forces that influence or manifest in fiction, from a mix of genres and beliefs. Moderator: Innana Arthen. Panelists: Lincoln Crisler, Jackie Gamber, Tim Lieder, Kevin Lucia, T. J. May, W. D. Prescott, Jeremy Wagner
...trying very hard NOT to act like a little fan-boy around all the bigger writers, and as usual, seeing folks who have become very dear to me, indeed. Because that's what Cons are all about, now. I'll be honest. They always pose a conflict for me. I'm amused by simple things, so even driving to new places I find fun and exciting. I know I'll be hanging with good friends all weekend. But I also know I'll miss my wife and kids, and by Sunday, I'll be chomping at the bit to get home.
Which has made me really evaluate WHY it is I attend Cons, now. At first, it was because I was a wide-eyed newbie who knew NOTHING (aside: like I really know any more NOW), knew no one, and just wanted to get into the genre SOMEHOW. Meet people, see faces, shake hands, go to panels, list and learn.
So, after almost three years attending Cons, where am I now? Well, I'm not a marque guest, there to draw attention to the Con, also there to actually maybe make some dough selling books because I have actual fans. Won't be like that for a long time...or it may NEVER be like that.
Where does that leave me? A middling fellow, who has done readings, spoken on panels, now understands that attending a Con is NOT going to CHANGE MY WRITING FUTURE, also aware I'll spend more money attending than I'll earn selling books. AND, the kids are getting older and little more demanding of Abby when I leave them, a little more of a handful.
Why go at all, then?
Because these folks have become my support group, my horror writer support group. Binghamton is a pretty small city. Not much in the way of writers here, even LESS in the way of horror writers. So I'm pretty much all on my own. Plus, writer forums have never meant much to me. Kinda old school that way. I get a giggle from Facebook and Twitter friends once and awhile, but I really need to SEE people. That's what makes an impact on me. Actually being around and SEEING people.
So, I'm not going to AnthoCon to sell my wares, impress folks at my reading (if I even do one), try to network or wheel and deal. I'm going to see my support group. Draw energy from them, revitalize, charge myself back up from their collective batteries for this crazy thing called "writing." In essence, that's what Cons are to me, now.
And hopefully, that's what they always will be, even if my career does grow. Because being a writer is a damn lonely business.
Hard to get by without your support group.
November 10, 2011
How I Almost Fell Into the "Quick n' Easy Trap"
So, I've been blogging about digital self-publishing, the new spin on self-publishing in general, how easy it's gotten, and I offered examples of folks whom I think are doing it carefully, thoughtfully, while still believing in the future of the "gate keeper" and "publisher". In all this, I think author Richard Wright (Hiram Grange & The Nymphs of Krakow) got it right with this:
"So publishers have to change what they're for. Three good examples are Angry Robot Books, Abaddon Books, and Snowbooks. These are publishers that know what they like, and they're good at representing themselves, the publishers, as an identity. They talk to their readers, and the tone of that dialogue helps to identify them further. People are fans of Angry Robot Books. They're fans of Snowbooks. They're fans of Abaddon Books.
You think many people are fans of Penguin?"
I don't think truer words could've been spoken. We need that gate keeper or SOMETHING there to filter our works through, so they can be the best they can be. But the model of huge publishing is creaking and groaning...as talked about here, in Richard's post....and SOMETHING has to change.
So maybe that's where the future lies. In publishers like the ones mentioned above, and I'll throw in Medallion Press and Shroud (though I'm partial to the latter, of course) as PUBLISHING companies that have fans, too. We NEED them to thrive, because even with the ease of digital self-publishing so quickly, whenever we want....
...it's a trap. A clever trap.
One I almost fell into.
So, here's the thing - can I be honest?
I'm tired.
Really tired. Not of writing, but of submitting blindly, with no clear home for my work. That's where part of the fire came from in writing Hiram Grange & The Chosen One . I'd been contracted to write it, with a token advance. Had a deadline. Got feedback from my publisher and fellow Hiram Grange mates. That, my friends, was SUCH a rush. It empowered me to write every single day for hours in ways I can't even describe.
Do you know how long ago that was, now?
Roughly three years.
In the past year and half? Well, I guess I've sold three short stories, but there's no word on them being published any time soon. And I'm not griping about that, because that's the game, and I'm used to it. Really excited about those stories and where they've landed, can't wait to see them.
Also, my interactions with Harper Teen were great. I loved my conversations with the senior acquisitions editor there, she was kind enough to refer me to several agents, telling me to drop her name, even. She didn't have to do that, and I'm thankful she did. And, though those agents all passed on the project, that's okay, too, because I've come to believe I'm probably just not a Teen/YA writer, after all.
And, I really enjoyed working on my "BIG NOVEL" until I shelved it for later, and I've really enjoyed working on my Billy the Kid project (although, after receiving an ARC for Kevin J. Anderson's Captain Nemo, I'm pumped to get this finished, soon!), and WRITING ITSELF is still great, awesome, rewarding and fulfilling. And I COMPLETELY believe in the future of a publisher.
But I'm tired.
My spirits and confidence in my work and my future in publishing is lagging. Will this be a career? A short lived hobby? Does ANYONE want my work, at all?
(yes, I know. Insert violin music here...)
Anyway, I decided that, while I wasn't ready to jump into self-publishing, I thought it'd be cool to start publishing something here on the website. An idea I'd tooled with for a bit about a series of interconnected novellas, Charles Grant/Oxrun Station style. Even made a page for it, with a lame place-holder image. And then....
I almost fell into the trap.
Of rushing something into production just so I could show it off. Of writing something really fast and throwing out in front of folks, just because I could. Violating all my principles about taking the time to craft something carefully well-done.
I realized pretty quickly what was happening. And, luckily, something behind the scenes - which I can't talk about yet - developed about the time I'd decided to shelve the project. Something that re-vitalized me, at least reaffirmed that my work has a place somewhere, and has given me something tangible to work towards, while still continuing on with my other efforts.
The Black Pyramid won't be ready for at least another year. But I'm leaving that page there, because I'm still going to experiment. But I'm determined, commited, more than ever...
That ANYTHING worth doing - ESPECIALLY Art (because that's what this IS, after all) - takes time. Carefully, well-spent TIME.
Self-publishing and digitally self-publishing may be easier than ever.
But writing something of quality craftsmanship? That's NEVER easy.
Because that's what makes it worthwhile, in the first place.
"So publishers have to change what they're for. Three good examples are Angry Robot Books, Abaddon Books, and Snowbooks. These are publishers that know what they like, and they're good at representing themselves, the publishers, as an identity. They talk to their readers, and the tone of that dialogue helps to identify them further. People are fans of Angry Robot Books. They're fans of Snowbooks. They're fans of Abaddon Books.
You think many people are fans of Penguin?"
I don't think truer words could've been spoken. We need that gate keeper or SOMETHING there to filter our works through, so they can be the best they can be. But the model of huge publishing is creaking and groaning...as talked about here, in Richard's post....and SOMETHING has to change.
So maybe that's where the future lies. In publishers like the ones mentioned above, and I'll throw in Medallion Press and Shroud (though I'm partial to the latter, of course) as PUBLISHING companies that have fans, too. We NEED them to thrive, because even with the ease of digital self-publishing so quickly, whenever we want....
...it's a trap. A clever trap.
One I almost fell into.
So, here's the thing - can I be honest?
I'm tired.
Really tired. Not of writing, but of submitting blindly, with no clear home for my work. That's where part of the fire came from in writing Hiram Grange & The Chosen One . I'd been contracted to write it, with a token advance. Had a deadline. Got feedback from my publisher and fellow Hiram Grange mates. That, my friends, was SUCH a rush. It empowered me to write every single day for hours in ways I can't even describe.
Do you know how long ago that was, now?
Roughly three years.
In the past year and half? Well, I guess I've sold three short stories, but there's no word on them being published any time soon. And I'm not griping about that, because that's the game, and I'm used to it. Really excited about those stories and where they've landed, can't wait to see them.
Also, my interactions with Harper Teen were great. I loved my conversations with the senior acquisitions editor there, she was kind enough to refer me to several agents, telling me to drop her name, even. She didn't have to do that, and I'm thankful she did. And, though those agents all passed on the project, that's okay, too, because I've come to believe I'm probably just not a Teen/YA writer, after all.
And, I really enjoyed working on my "BIG NOVEL" until I shelved it for later, and I've really enjoyed working on my Billy the Kid project (although, after receiving an ARC for Kevin J. Anderson's Captain Nemo, I'm pumped to get this finished, soon!), and WRITING ITSELF is still great, awesome, rewarding and fulfilling. And I COMPLETELY believe in the future of a publisher.
But I'm tired.
My spirits and confidence in my work and my future in publishing is lagging. Will this be a career? A short lived hobby? Does ANYONE want my work, at all?
(yes, I know. Insert violin music here...)
Anyway, I decided that, while I wasn't ready to jump into self-publishing, I thought it'd be cool to start publishing something here on the website. An idea I'd tooled with for a bit about a series of interconnected novellas, Charles Grant/Oxrun Station style. Even made a page for it, with a lame place-holder image. And then....
I almost fell into the trap.
Of rushing something into production just so I could show it off. Of writing something really fast and throwing out in front of folks, just because I could. Violating all my principles about taking the time to craft something carefully well-done.
I realized pretty quickly what was happening. And, luckily, something behind the scenes - which I can't talk about yet - developed about the time I'd decided to shelve the project. Something that re-vitalized me, at least reaffirmed that my work has a place somewhere, and has given me something tangible to work towards, while still continuing on with my other efforts.
The Black Pyramid won't be ready for at least another year. But I'm leaving that page there, because I'm still going to experiment. But I'm determined, commited, more than ever...
That ANYTHING worth doing - ESPECIALLY Art (because that's what this IS, after all) - takes time. Carefully, well-spent TIME.
Self-publishing and digitally self-publishing may be easier than ever.
But writing something of quality craftsmanship? That's NEVER easy.
Because that's what makes it worthwhile, in the first place.
November 9, 2011
Belated Blog: Digital Self-Publishing Done Right, Part 3: Richard Wright
Sorry for the lag-time in these blog posts, life and career (teaching and work for hire gigs) got in the way the last few days. As a refresher to bring folks back to the matter at hand: I blogged last week about the changes in publishing, my goals and dreams as a writer, and an experiment I was considering about self-publishing "of a kind".
I then cited two examples of talented, PROVEN writers still invested in the traditional process, who were also making headway with self-publishing efforts, too.
First I cited Phil Tomasso/Thomas Phillips, a proven suspense/crime-thriller author who's used digital self-publishing to bring back his out of print titles, though he's still continuing to move forward in the realm of traditional, print publishing.
Then I referenced Mike Duran's example, another proven, debut novelist from a traditional mid-list house who self-published his novella Winterland because - as a novella - it didn't fit into the CBA's (Christian Bookseller Association) paradigm, it was a much different genre than he normally writes in, and the self-determination of releasing the work when HE wanted to - right between traditionally published novels (his next due 2012) - allowed him to keep some forward momentum while waiting for his new traditionally published release.
My third and last example is Richard Wright, another proven writer and fellow Hiram Grange scribe. His short fiction has found its way into numerous collections, not the least of which is the Stoker Nominated collection Dark Faith. He's been blurbed by Brian Keene, and though he still labors forth in the realm of traditional publishing, he's self-published a novel, Cuckoo.
Richard and I share similar feelings about the advent of digital epublishing, Kindle/Nook, and these turbulent times in publishing. There are clear disadvantages for new writers, and the advantages are murky, hazy, unformed at best. He fleshes out his feelings about the changes in the industry in the following posts: The Wolf at the Door, Why Publishers?, Brand New Day. All in all, I think the biggest thing Richard and I share is the following sentiment concerning today's publishing scheme:
"There are, after all, so many ways to get it wrong now, and no sure ways to get it right."
In any case, Richard is going about it in as right a way as I can possibly imagine. Like Phil Tomasso, Cuckoo is a re-release of a previously published work that had an abortive "shelf-life". Now that Richard has moved up a bit in the game, gathered some followers, he decided to self-publish/re-release Cuckoo for his new fans, some ten years after its original publication, albeit with updates and a rewrite or two.
And also, while he accepts that the old model of publishing is dying, he doesn't meet this new future with the hand-rubbing glee of someone who senses his time is coming not because he's honed his talent, put in his time, suffered and "bled" for his art, but because the establishment is collapsing, he views the future openly, honestly...and warily.
Because above all, Richard is a talented writer committed to quality craft, who also understands very keenly that with these new revolutions, SOMETHING must...and WILL...change between the author and the publisher. We just don't know what those changes will be, yet, or if they will be advantageous to writers, especially newer ones.
So.
Where does that leave me? Especially concerning my experiment? Well, something has transpired behind the scenes - something REALLY good - that has stayed my hand, put off the experiment for awhile. But tomorrow or the next day, I'll share how I feel about the issue, and what I almost planned to do about it.
I then cited two examples of talented, PROVEN writers still invested in the traditional process, who were also making headway with self-publishing efforts, too.
First I cited Phil Tomasso/Thomas Phillips, a proven suspense/crime-thriller author who's used digital self-publishing to bring back his out of print titles, though he's still continuing to move forward in the realm of traditional, print publishing.
Then I referenced Mike Duran's example, another proven, debut novelist from a traditional mid-list house who self-published his novella Winterland because - as a novella - it didn't fit into the CBA's (Christian Bookseller Association) paradigm, it was a much different genre than he normally writes in, and the self-determination of releasing the work when HE wanted to - right between traditionally published novels (his next due 2012) - allowed him to keep some forward momentum while waiting for his new traditionally published release.
My third and last example is Richard Wright, another proven writer and fellow Hiram Grange scribe. His short fiction has found its way into numerous collections, not the least of which is the Stoker Nominated collection Dark Faith. He's been blurbed by Brian Keene, and though he still labors forth in the realm of traditional publishing, he's self-published a novel, Cuckoo.
Richard and I share similar feelings about the advent of digital epublishing, Kindle/Nook, and these turbulent times in publishing. There are clear disadvantages for new writers, and the advantages are murky, hazy, unformed at best. He fleshes out his feelings about the changes in the industry in the following posts: The Wolf at the Door, Why Publishers?, Brand New Day. All in all, I think the biggest thing Richard and I share is the following sentiment concerning today's publishing scheme:
"There are, after all, so many ways to get it wrong now, and no sure ways to get it right."
In any case, Richard is going about it in as right a way as I can possibly imagine. Like Phil Tomasso, Cuckoo is a re-release of a previously published work that had an abortive "shelf-life". Now that Richard has moved up a bit in the game, gathered some followers, he decided to self-publish/re-release Cuckoo for his new fans, some ten years after its original publication, albeit with updates and a rewrite or two.
And also, while he accepts that the old model of publishing is dying, he doesn't meet this new future with the hand-rubbing glee of someone who senses his time is coming not because he's honed his talent, put in his time, suffered and "bled" for his art, but because the establishment is collapsing, he views the future openly, honestly...and warily.
Because above all, Richard is a talented writer committed to quality craft, who also understands very keenly that with these new revolutions, SOMETHING must...and WILL...change between the author and the publisher. We just don't know what those changes will be, yet, or if they will be advantageous to writers, especially newer ones.
So.
Where does that leave me? Especially concerning my experiment? Well, something has transpired behind the scenes - something REALLY good - that has stayed my hand, put off the experiment for awhile. But tomorrow or the next day, I'll share how I feel about the issue, and what I almost planned to do about it.
