Aaron Polson's Blog, page 31
April 4, 2011
Seedlings
I spent the better part of Saturday morning hauling mulch and raking compost into seed beds for a community garden at Owen's elementary:
When we came home around 1:00 p.m., Owen wanted to get started on our own garden. As some of you picked up on Twitter/Facebook, I was sore. Nine hours of hard gardening is rough on a body that spends most of it's time walking around a classroom/sitting in front of a monitor.
Then we planted seeds because they don't grow in their little paper pouches.
If you smelled the analogy coming, here it is:
Your stories will do nothing if you don't share them. I know there are some who read this blog, write, and don't submit their stories. I know you are out there.
Do it.
Just like the seeds in the garden, some stories won't sprout. Some will have to be thinned out. Some will grow (and with a little watering--er, revising) become amazing little things. Some will feed you. Some will provide beauty.
But if those seeds stay in their little paper pouch, nothing.
Our garden is better (more weed-free/greater yield) each year because I've learned how to make it better after years of trial and error. My writing has improved since I scribbled my first (rather awful) story back in the fall of '96. I didn't plant any seeds for another ten years.
But boy, am I glad I did.
I sprinkled some more story seeds this weekend. I'll mention them later after this rather heavy-handed metaphor wears off.
Have a great week.
When we came home around 1:00 p.m., Owen wanted to get started on our own garden. As some of you picked up on Twitter/Facebook, I was sore. Nine hours of hard gardening is rough on a body that spends most of it's time walking around a classroom/sitting in front of a monitor. Then we planted seeds because they don't grow in their little paper pouches.
If you smelled the analogy coming, here it is:
Your stories will do nothing if you don't share them. I know there are some who read this blog, write, and don't submit their stories. I know you are out there.
Do it.
Just like the seeds in the garden, some stories won't sprout. Some will have to be thinned out. Some will grow (and with a little watering--er, revising) become amazing little things. Some will feed you. Some will provide beauty.
But if those seeds stay in their little paper pouch, nothing.
Our garden is better (more weed-free/greater yield) each year because I've learned how to make it better after years of trial and error. My writing has improved since I scribbled my first (rather awful) story back in the fall of '96. I didn't plant any seeds for another ten years.
But boy, am I glad I did.
I sprinkled some more story seeds this weekend. I'll mention them later after this rather heavy-handed metaphor wears off.
Have a great week.
April 1, 2011
Five Question Friday: Michelle Muto
Five questions with Michelle Muto...Q: If you couldn't drive a car, how would you get from place to place?A: Apparate, of course. Flue powder is just so messy.
Q: What would be the ideal meal for one of your favorite characters?A: Mircowaved corpse blood... with chocolate
Q: If you could write in any color ink, what would it be?A: Black. Always black.
Q: Cats or dogs? Why?A: Dogs. Because once you own a Beezlepup, nothing else is as much fun.
Q: Describe your imaginary friend.A: What? You don't see him standing next to you?
Check out The Book of Lost Souls on Amazon or visit Michelle's blog.
March 31, 2011
At the Opera...
A quick note before the main attraction: you can download a free PDF of We are the Monsters for a Tweet or Facebook update. Check out the button in the top right-hand corner of this page. I've also started a Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/aaronpolsonauthor You can't deny the evil empire...
Dario Argento's Opera is a flawed film, but the visuals are great. Forget the last 20 minutes, and you'll be really happy with the result.
*Spoiler Alert* Just about every kill in the film is hinted in this clip.
Dario Argento's Opera is a flawed film, but the visuals are great. Forget the last 20 minutes, and you'll be really happy with the result.
*Spoiler Alert* Just about every kill in the film is hinted in this clip.
March 30, 2011
WIP Wednesday: The Lost Afterword
I dipped my toes in self-publishing (or Indie if it suits you) last April with The Bottom Feeders. Since then, between the free edition, Kindle, and Smashwords, well over 200 readers have picked up the book. Much has changed in the world of self-publishing in the last year. To mark The Bottom Feeders anniversary, I'm prepping it for print.
I've written a little afterword for The Bottom Feeders (print), and here she is:
As part of my day job, I tell my students (high school juniors and seniors) never to apologize for their writing. A nervous sixteen-year-old often sputters and us, afraid to show his or her work to the class.
Get over it, I say.
No excuses. No apologies.
I won't make any excuses for The Bottom Feeders. No apologies, either. These stories have their fair share of blemishes and errata. An earlier electronic edition contained several formatting errors. The prose in unwieldy at times, but its mine. All of it. The Bottom Feeders represents the best of my early work. These stories have life and memory. "Everything in its Place" was my first commissioned sale. "The Bottom Feeders" marked the time I juggled the balance between my past and the fictional universe I was creating. "Tesoro's Magic Bullet" will always be a reminder of the struggle: a story accepted to a market which I'd tried to break into a dozen times before getting it right.
Along the way, I found my voice. I hope you can hear something of the small-town Kansas kid with much love for vintage EC comics, Saturday morning cartoons, and Boris Karloff's staggering monster.
I'll keep telling stories.
Thanks for reading them.
(And, of course you can still get the electronic edition for Kindle or other formats at Smashwords for only 99 cents.)
I've written a little afterword for The Bottom Feeders (print), and here she is:
As part of my day job, I tell my students (high school juniors and seniors) never to apologize for their writing. A nervous sixteen-year-old often sputters and us, afraid to show his or her work to the class.
Get over it, I say.
No excuses. No apologies.
I won't make any excuses for The Bottom Feeders. No apologies, either. These stories have their fair share of blemishes and errata. An earlier electronic edition contained several formatting errors. The prose in unwieldy at times, but its mine. All of it. The Bottom Feeders represents the best of my early work. These stories have life and memory. "Everything in its Place" was my first commissioned sale. "The Bottom Feeders" marked the time I juggled the balance between my past and the fictional universe I was creating. "Tesoro's Magic Bullet" will always be a reminder of the struggle: a story accepted to a market which I'd tried to break into a dozen times before getting it right.
Along the way, I found my voice. I hope you can hear something of the small-town Kansas kid with much love for vintage EC comics, Saturday morning cartoons, and Boris Karloff's staggering monster.
I'll keep telling stories.
Thanks for reading them.
(And, of course you can still get the electronic edition for Kindle or other formats at Smashwords for only 99 cents.)
March 29, 2011
Dead Trees and Electrons, or Book Polygamy
I love books.
I don't want to send the wrong message with yesterday's post. Remaindered books are not sad for the reader at all. It's just the gluttony of publishing which bothers me. I buy plenty of clothing from the clearance racks, so I guess I should get over it, huh?
At Hastings (I was a book manager in Lawrence years ago), we called them "hurt books". That was the official company title: hurt books. Hardbacks were code 51, trade paperbacks 55, mass markets, 50, and "hurt books" 54.
Sounds a little sad, doesn't it? Hurt books. They weren't wounded at all.
My wife gave me a Kindle for my birthday. I love it. I love the number of books I've been able to slap on that bad boy for a few bucks. I love changing the font size so my eyes don't strain at all. I love the built-in dictionary. I don't love the highlighter so much. (So, how do I turn off other people's highlights?)
But I love physical books, and I always will. Here's the other end of the spectrum: I've recently joined the Library of America. If you're unfamiliar, they produce high quality, durable editions of classic American literature. So far, I've received American Fantastic Tales (2-volume set), Raymond Carver: Collected Stories, and H.P. Lovecraft Tales. I'll have these books for a lifetime of reading. Poe, Shirley Jackson, Raymond Carver, and Langston Hughes are all in the queue.
There is a place for the e-reader and my love for real, tangible books, but I'm past my e-fears, folks. E-reading is here (in my life) to stay, just like those beautiful, cloth bound LoA editions.
Now, I just need a set of sweet digital bookends...
I don't want to send the wrong message with yesterday's post. Remaindered books are not sad for the reader at all. It's just the gluttony of publishing which bothers me. I buy plenty of clothing from the clearance racks, so I guess I should get over it, huh?
At Hastings (I was a book manager in Lawrence years ago), we called them "hurt books". That was the official company title: hurt books. Hardbacks were code 51, trade paperbacks 55, mass markets, 50, and "hurt books" 54.
Sounds a little sad, doesn't it? Hurt books. They weren't wounded at all.
My wife gave me a Kindle for my birthday. I love it. I love the number of books I've been able to slap on that bad boy for a few bucks. I love changing the font size so my eyes don't strain at all. I love the built-in dictionary. I don't love the highlighter so much. (So, how do I turn off other people's highlights?)
But I love physical books, and I always will. Here's the other end of the spectrum: I've recently joined the Library of America. If you're unfamiliar, they produce high quality, durable editions of classic American literature. So far, I've received American Fantastic Tales (2-volume set), Raymond Carver: Collected Stories, and H.P. Lovecraft Tales. I'll have these books for a lifetime of reading. Poe, Shirley Jackson, Raymond Carver, and Langston Hughes are all in the queue.
There is a place for the e-reader and my love for real, tangible books, but I'm past my e-fears, folks. E-reading is here (in my life) to stay, just like those beautiful, cloth bound LoA editions.
Now, I just need a set of sweet digital bookends...
March 28, 2011
The Indignity of the Remainder Table
I'm not a big fan of bookstores.
Let me clarify: I'm not a big fan of big chain bookstores.* Small bookshops, especially those with live cats (we have two indie shops with feline "employees" in Lawrence), are great. Used bookstores are heaven. I've blogged about them before.
One staple of the big chain store is the remainder table.
How depressing.
Last week, as part of spring break, we spent a short stint in Kansas City. I took the boys to a bookstore (plenty to look at and they were pumped). I picked up a $2 book on a remainder table and read the bio of the author. Her short fiction credits included The New Yorker, Zoetrope...big names. The cover even heralded "New York Times Bestselling Author".
On a remainder table. For $2.
Depressing...
I dream of a world with no remainder tables. An unexpected bonus of the e-book, I suppose.
*I do feel bad for all those folks who lost their jobs with Borders.*
**But I have a friend, a rabid book lover, who thumbs his nose at the other big chain bookstore in Lawrence but he loves Borders. Really? I can't really understand.
Let me clarify: I'm not a big fan of big chain bookstores.* Small bookshops, especially those with live cats (we have two indie shops with feline "employees" in Lawrence), are great. Used bookstores are heaven. I've blogged about them before.
One staple of the big chain store is the remainder table.
How depressing.
Last week, as part of spring break, we spent a short stint in Kansas City. I took the boys to a bookstore (plenty to look at and they were pumped). I picked up a $2 book on a remainder table and read the bio of the author. Her short fiction credits included The New Yorker, Zoetrope...big names. The cover even heralded "New York Times Bestselling Author".
On a remainder table. For $2.
Depressing...
I dream of a world with no remainder tables. An unexpected bonus of the e-book, I suppose.
*I do feel bad for all those folks who lost their jobs with Borders.*
**But I have a friend, a rabid book lover, who thumbs his nose at the other big chain bookstore in Lawrence but he loves Borders. Really? I can't really understand.
March 27, 2011
"In Hollow Fields" #samplesunday
Spring break officially ends tomorrow, but here's a tiny bit to read to day: the first page from the reviewer-favorite "In Hollow Fields" a short story available both in my ebook collection, The Bottom Feeders and Return of the Raven (edited by Maria Grazia Cavicchioli):
"In Hollow Fields"
Rolling fields of golden wheat and green pasture swallowed a silver Honda as it sped along a stretch of snaking asphalt. The driver leaned forward and shrugged his shoulders, trying to stay awake after three hours in the car. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and tightened his grip on the wheel with the other. His passenger, eyes flitting from the asphalt ahead to the side mirror as if measuring the length of road, shifted in her seat.
"How far will we be from a hospital?"
Zach leaned back. "Don't worry, Court. I think there's a hospital in Springdale—about fifteen miles away."
Courtney's shoulders dropped. She rested both hands on the top of her bulging belly. "I'm just not really comfortable, you know." She tilted her brown eyes out the window, watching acres of Kansas prairie melt in an amber blur. "I'm seven months along, Zach. Seven months. I don't really want some redneck doctor delivering our baby."
"Everything will be fine. If all goes well, we'll be out of this little shit-hole in a couple of days. A week at most." He smiled and patted her leg. "This could be it, Court. The goldmine. The old bastard had his fortune wrapped up in the farm. The land has to be worth thousands. Hundreds of thousands."
The car crested another hill and sped into the valley below. The town of Broughton's Hollow lay in front of them, a loose arrangement of graying houses and broken streets, a dying carcass of a village, left to fester in remembrance of an era when family farms, railroads, and general stores ruled the American Midwest. No fewer than four church steeples rose from valley.
Courtney shivered. "Well, at least we won't be short on Jesus."
Zach offered a meek chuckle, but neither spoke again as Zach steered the Civic through the dilapidated main street and out the other side, toward his grandfather's farm.
And on that farm...
Want to read more? Kindle - Smashwords - Return of the Raven
"In Hollow Fields"
Rolling fields of golden wheat and green pasture swallowed a silver Honda as it sped along a stretch of snaking asphalt. The driver leaned forward and shrugged his shoulders, trying to stay awake after three hours in the car. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and tightened his grip on the wheel with the other. His passenger, eyes flitting from the asphalt ahead to the side mirror as if measuring the length of road, shifted in her seat.
"How far will we be from a hospital?"
Zach leaned back. "Don't worry, Court. I think there's a hospital in Springdale—about fifteen miles away."
Courtney's shoulders dropped. She rested both hands on the top of her bulging belly. "I'm just not really comfortable, you know." She tilted her brown eyes out the window, watching acres of Kansas prairie melt in an amber blur. "I'm seven months along, Zach. Seven months. I don't really want some redneck doctor delivering our baby."
"Everything will be fine. If all goes well, we'll be out of this little shit-hole in a couple of days. A week at most." He smiled and patted her leg. "This could be it, Court. The goldmine. The old bastard had his fortune wrapped up in the farm. The land has to be worth thousands. Hundreds of thousands."
The car crested another hill and sped into the valley below. The town of Broughton's Hollow lay in front of them, a loose arrangement of graying houses and broken streets, a dying carcass of a village, left to fester in remembrance of an era when family farms, railroads, and general stores ruled the American Midwest. No fewer than four church steeples rose from valley.
Courtney shivered. "Well, at least we won't be short on Jesus."
Zach offered a meek chuckle, but neither spoke again as Zach steered the Civic through the dilapidated main street and out the other side, toward his grandfather's farm.
And on that farm...
Want to read more? Kindle - Smashwords - Return of the Raven
March 25, 2011
Five Question Friday: Chris Blewitt
Five questions with Chris Blewitt...What do you think makes a good story?
Keeping the reader guessing. What I like to ask myself when telling a story is "What if? What if X happened and as a result, Y happened." You have got to keep the reader turning the page. They need to always be searching for the resolution to the conflict in the story.
What is the hardest part of being a writer?
Finding the time to write! I have a full-time job and three kids. It took me 2.5 yrs to finished Deep Rough, then another 4 years to publish it. Write now and don't look back. I just finished my next novel and it still took 2 years to write. And that's only the first draft!
What is the last book you read?
The Sculptor by Gregory Funaro. Before that was The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Steig Larson
If you could live in anywhere in the world, where would it be?
Kauai or Maui in Hawaii. Just a little too far from family/friends or else I'd be there.
What is your perfect Sunday?
The Philadelphia Eagles winning the Superbowl or me winning The Masters.
Read Chris' book, Deep Rough.
March 23, 2011
WIP Wednesday: Done...for Now
My latest foray into the world of The Sons of Chaos is done. For now.
There will be edits. Oh my, there will be edits. But I did introduce Sam Isherwood's plucky little sister, Evangeline. Her favorite line:
"Sam, you know I don't like being a kept woman."
Whew.
That was fun. Here's a hint about the setting:
There will be edits. Oh my, there will be edits. But I did introduce Sam Isherwood's plucky little sister, Evangeline. Her favorite line:
"Sam, you know I don't like being a kept woman."
Whew.
That was fun. Here's a hint about the setting:
March 22, 2011
Mad Scientist at Work
After all this schtuff about e-book pricing, I thought I'd run a totally non-scientific experiment:The buyer can set the price for We are the Monsters when downloaded from Smashwords.
I don't have to run a scientific experiment to act like a scientist, so here's my hypothesis: I won't sell enough copies via Smashwords for accurate data. But you can read the first 50% for free.
(Mwhahahahaha...)
