Marian Allen's Blog, page 456
October 21, 2011
Friday Recomments – Why Anthropology and More
Last week, I promised anthropology in my title and then did not, apparently, follow through. This is because I'm so stupid subtle. I had it in mind how the fabulous Sara Deurell, who is posting again, is currently thinking about anthropology as a major in college and forgot to post the actual anthropology link I intended to post.
So NOW I recommend the series of posts Barbara J. King (my favorite anthropologist until Sarah graduates) is doing for the NPR Cosmos and Culture blog. The latest one (as of 10/21/2011) is Do Animals Grieve.
From the Department of Self-referentiality, I call your attention to the menu above the post. It is now a drop-down menu and people looking for posts specifically about food can hover over the Recipes tab to find posts about food. People looking for posts specifically about writing can hover over the Writing tab and find posts specifically about writing and–and this is the interesting bit–specifically by frequent guest F. A. (Floyd) Hyatt.
I have a post up today at The Write Type called Telemarketers For Fun And Profit. Some people like to mess with telemarketers' heads. I don't, unless you call "connecting with them as one person/worker to another" messing. As Maude said of people in "Harold and Maude", "Well, they're my species!"
Again, I recommend visiting Ironclad Tech Services. Sean has some way cool help articles on there, especially for Android and Linux. He's very responsive to questions, too. It's a fairly new site so it isn't, as we blog-heads say, "fully populated", but there's plenty of good stuff there. I recommend that you bookmark it and visit, just to see what's new.
Now, from the department of Coolest Thing Ever: Mitchell Allen (no relation) of Morpho Designs loves writing prompts. If you go to his site and scroll down to Dirty Chocolate, you'll see his response to one of mine. Cool!
If you write something in response to one of my prompts and post it somewhere, please feel free to come back here and drop a link to it!
I'll be walking for–well, against, actually–breast cancer tomorrow, then going to an all-day church retreat (No, they are not deprogramming me, shut up!), but I'll try to crank out something before I go. Sunday is Sample Sunday. Not sure if I'll have an excerpt or a flash or what. Have a good un!
WRITING PROMPT: A telemarketer calls someone who messes with his/her head. Write the scene from the point of view of the messer and then from the point of view of the telemarketer.
MA
October 20, 2011
The #contest For #ebooks Continues
Title of post optimized for Twitter. Live with that.
Anyway, I'm still running that contest. I was proud of the number of entries I've had until I got a load of the Red Tash Bash. It might garner me more entries if I weren't too cheap to spring for an actually valuable prize, but you know what I'm like. My money has to hire lawyers to get it out of my pocket.
Anyway:
What are the prizes?
a copy of EEL'S REVERENCE (eBook)a copy of FORCE OF HABIT (eBook)
a copy of LONNIE, ME AND THE HOUND OF HELL (eBook)
a copy of THE KING OF CHEROKEE CREEK (eBook)
a copy of MA'S MONTHLY HOT FLASHES: 2002-2007 (eBook)
a MomGoth's Sweet Little Baby Angels pin
the name of your choice in the story I write to promote my next eBook release, SIDESHOW IN THE CENTER RING. Holly Jahangiri, who won this in the last contest, called it, "Best. Prize. Ever." Here's a link to that story, "By the Book". It's free.
How do you win?
leave a comment on this or any other blog on which I post, saying you're entering the contest . One entry for each post on which you comment.
If you've already bought and read one or more of my books, write a review (or reviews) and leave a comment on this blog linking to the review(s). One entry for each review.
Mention the contest on your blog and your social media networks (Twitter, Facebook, Google+, whatever) and leave a comment on this blog saying so. One entry for every place you spread the word.
Entries will be numbered and winners chosen by Random Number Selector. First entry drawn gets first choice of prizes and so on.
How long does it run?
Until midnight EST October 31.
WRITING PROMPT: What do angels drink? Why or why not? How does it affect them? Yes, I saw Dogma. 
October 19, 2011
Meatloaf, The Food, Yes, It Is A Food
In fact, it's the ultimate 1950′s American comfort food. Although minced meat had been around since ancient times, the meat was usually pre-cooked (leftovers). Ground raw meat wasn't processed and sold until the late 1800′s. Lack of refrigeration and ground meat's potential for spoilage kept it from catching on.
Manufacturers produced home grinders and coupled them with recipes for ground meat dishes, including meat loaf. There are many, many variations. Some are made with ground beef, some with ground veal, some with a mixture of beef, veal and pork.
I can remember a time, during a spell of high meat prices, when soy protein was part of the mix. Unfortunately for the "meat extender" market in Louisville, Ralston Purina had a big dog food factory with a huge multi-silo storage facility, and the smell of soy meat extender cried, "DOG FOOD" in big stinky letters.
I prefer my Aunt Rose's method of stretching the meat budget by adding oatmeal and chopped vegetables to the ground beef. Her meat loaf was always perfect. Mine was always greasy, dry on the outside and underdone on the inside. Since my husband doesn't eat red meat, I've given up the quest for a good meat loaf recipe and just order it if I find it at restaurants. Meatless loaf, on the other hand, I do rather well. My mother–ah, my mother does a ROCKIN' meatloaf. Both of these recipes reside on my now-defunct WEBLAHG.
WRITING PROMPT: Something meant to be appealing is distinctly UNappealing for an unanticipated reason.
MA
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October 18, 2011
We Are Victorious!
Whenever I wrestle a story to the mat and pin it for the full count (an allegory for finishing a first draft), the victory song from THE 5000 FINGERS OF DR. T plays in my head. Yes, I've always watched too many movies.
So I finished the first draft of "Still Life With Peanut Butter", in which Mamie and Florence enter a recipe contest run by a peanut butter factory which wants to create some good buzz to counteract the finding of a dead body on their premises. It's a short story, so recipes are not included. If the story sells, I'll post the recipes on this blog.
And I'll sing the victory song.
Oh, today's Tuesday, so I'm posting at Fatal Foodies today. It's about Curry. Tim Curry.
WRITING PROMPT: What does your main character do to celebrate a success that's intended to be one of many? Eat a chocolate? Go to the shooting range? Have a drink? Call a friend? Light a candle?
MA
October 17, 2011
Guest Post – Floyd Hyatt – Second Coat of Paint
Unless he sends me more (hint, hint), this is the last of the posts given to me by the fabulous Floyd Hyatt. I wish he had a web site I could recommend, but he says he's too busy writing and critiquing to maintain a web site. Hmmmm…. Is there a lesson there for me? …Naaaaah!
Overall Visions of the Critique Process.
Second Coat of Paint, Paint, Paint…
F. A. Hyatt
Commonly, novel writers are told to get the story down on paper first, and then revise. This is, I'll admit, only partially the way I work. Perhaps my outline was vague, or I found too many things in the world-build to explore. Maybe I am just a poor example of a writer. (I like to think every writer modifies the basics a little, so maybe I remain 'under the curve' of what's average, in this respect.) In either case, I will submit chapters for critique while still working on the first draft.
I begin with a story outline or arc, and juggle my way through to the story's end. I stay concerned mostly with line edits, but pay heed to my criticizer's commentary on logic, cadence, and characterization. When the draft is finished, I like to try it out on a few beta readers, who tend to look more at the whole, and provide general comments. In my experience, this can take a while.
During this process, and as the reviews come back, I look at things like:
*Secondary story arcs.
Secondary arcs provide me an opportunity to deepen character development, adding interest and breadth to the story. No story should be without some of these. When going to the circus, you generally expect to see more than one elephant, clown, or high-wire artist. The concern is, that my sub-plots advance the story. I want to deepen the reader's understanding of the character's motivation or personality, and provide drama. When reading a book, you expect some story depth. I know that piloting my lead character along like a train on a track makes for a boring book. There need to be cracks in the arc's roadbed. Often, this opens opportunities for interesting secondary story arcs. I layer in these, mindful of the above expectations.
*Shuffling the deck.
The logical Progression of my masterpiece might, or might not, be improved by moving some scenes around. This is a good time to try that. It's also a good time to review the action ramping (I covered this in "The Action Ramp, Bane of New Writers" before)
*Opening hooks, titles, forwards or prefaces.
No matter what my original intentions were, I often end up rewriting or changing the opening hook, and deciding on what preface material, if any, is needed. Needed? Yes. Looking back on the full story as writ, tells me how to reinforce or highlight my opening, and how much (if any) of my first chapter should be cut, and what else needs editing to support the theme smoothly.
*Butchering
Cut? Yes, cut. All that glorious prose, that in the end does nothing but slow my plot down, or mislead the reader. Like a parking lot attendant, the opening points the direction my story will take, or it doesn't. There is no better time for me to evaluate this then when the first draft manuscript is on the table. I remind myself that a lot of movie footage ends up on the cutting room floor. In writing novels,the process is the same, and part of a writer's skill set. Hanging on to that rationale, I cut with the zeal of a butcher; hack, slice, dice and shuffle until the road is smoothed, the tarmac repaired.
*Pushing the reader
Do my chapter endings push the reader forward? Now is a good opportunity for me to hang a few cliffs, and make sure there is an unanswered question that encourages turning the page.
Another round, anyone?
The result of all this, gets me ready for a second round of line editing and beta reading. Now that the tale is reconfigured, it needs to be evaluated again. With luck, this could end as a light sanding and touch-up, though in my world, that is seldom the case. Usually, the manuscript comes back just as blue-penciled as the original draft. Meantime, several other improvements have come to mind, so usually the "final" draft needs at least another round, before a decent product comes of it.
The better you get at this process, I am told, the quicker you can get off this particular carousel. However long the ride, eventually I shoot the engineer and move on to the next project.
Thanks, Floyd! I always learn so much from you!
WRITING PROMPT: Write a character who doesn't know when to stop tweaking something–a story, a recipe, a painting, a business presentation, a costume.
MA
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October 16, 2011
Sample Sunday – Excerpt from "Crumb" – Mystery With Cat
Click image to enlarge and back arrow to return to page
The other day, I received an email from Patty G. Henderson of Black Car Publishing saying that DARK THINGS II: Cat Crimes will (we hope) be available for Christmas giving. My short story "Crumb" will be one of the offerings.
I wrote it as a challenge to myself. A hard-boiled, noir publication said specifically in their guidelines they didn't want any submissions with tea or food or cats, so I wrote one. They rejected it. What's wrong with cozy noir, I ask you? Mike Hammer could have done some serious damage with a couple of knitting needles, am I wrong?
Here is an excerpt:
Crumb
by Marian Allen
My scarlet nails extracted an evil-looking little black cigarillo from the package with the curvaceous señorita on it.
I offered Jake–ex-Detective Sergeant Jasper Perkins, my current love interest–a smoke, but he shook his head and lit mine for me, then his own filtered menthol. We were sitting within shouting distance of my shop, in The Tobacco Barn's "sampling room"–a glass-fronted, air-tight lounge, exempted from our town's no-smoking ordinance and guaranteed to offend the sight of every non-smoker who passed. A hollow-cheeked man scurried by, his hooded trench coat flapping around his sweatshirt and jeans, coughing into a big cloth handkerchief. I caught his eye and blew smoke rings.
Sharp winds and cloudy skies had turned into a hell of a storm. The wind lashed the trees that Planning and Zoning had made the builders leave around the parking lot and rain smacked the shop windows like transparent paintballs. The radio was threatening severe storms and possible tornadoes, but the place was still crawling, shoppers dodging from building to building, money burning holes in their pockets.
Jake peered across the corner of the lot at my place, Ma Barker's Tea and Crumpets.
The rain stopped and the wind died away.
"You got a customer," Jake said. "That guy in the trench coat just went in. Dude's bald as a post."
"Suzanne can–"
I jerked to my feet, stubbing out my cigar, pulling my handbag strap onto my shoulder.
"What's the matter?" Jake caught up with me on the walkway. "Friend of yours?"
"Friend of Snake's. That's Snuffy. Not a tea shop kind of guy."
The wind picked up again as we got to Ma Barker's. The two of us fought the door open and had to dodge to keep from having our heels crushed when the wind blew it shut.
The first thing I saw, even before I saw Snuffy, even before I saw the body, was the blood. Then I saw the corpse. Some guy I didn't even know was spread-eagled on the floor by the counter, his white down windbreaker already a soggy scarlet, a hole twisted to one side but probably originally centered on his heart.
Then I saw Snuffy, doubled over with his prescription inhaler stuffed into his mouth, squirting and sucking it in and holding his breath like it was the best damn joint he'd ever toked. The hand that wasn't holding the inhaler gripped an eight-inch blade, and that hand was covered in blood.
"Yo!" he gasped. "You got a freakin' cat in here?"
I only meant to call, but I ended up shouting: "Suzanne?"
"Get out, Ma," I heard her voice, real weak, from the other side of the counter. "Snake told him to kill us both."
"Nobody move," Snuffy said, as I started toward my daughter. "I'm closer to her than you are. Stay put, if you want to buy her a little time."
"Who's the dead guy?" Jake wanted to know. Cops.
You may be sure I'll let you know when the anthology is available. 
WRITING PROMPT: Think of a kind of story you hate to read. Now think of what elements in it you hate. Now sketch out a story with those elements that you WOULD like to read.
MA
October 15, 2011
Maxfield Parrish Mornings
Maxfield Parrish was the most popular American artist/illustrators of the turn of the 19th-20th centuries. Norman Rockwell succeeded him in that position, but Rockwell didn't put himself in the same class as Parrish, and neither do I, charming (and, occasionally, deeply perceptive) as Rockwell was.
Parrish was a genius at capturing that stunning yet delicate effect of golden sunlight through clear blue skies and green leaves, gilding everything in a buttery glow. His pictures bring joy to my heart and help me see the piercing beauty of actual fact of such light.
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Daybreak by Maxfield Parrish, photo courtesy of The Parrish House
WRITING PROMPT: Write a scene based on this picture. It can be from the POV of the people in the picture, the person not pictured but from whose POV the figures are being observed, the painter or someone looking at the painting.
MA
October 14, 2011
Friday Recommends – Anthropology and All That
First, Sara D vs. Reality is back! It's a wonderful blog about life, writing, and the writing life. FTC full disclosure: I gave birth to her.
I recently met S. M. Worth on Google+ and love his comments and his blog. He's a fellow spec fic writer and a fellow NaNoWriMo participant. Visit his site for NaNo desktop calendars.
If you don't know what NaNo is, it's National Novel Writing Month–the month of November, traditionally. I'm doing it again this year. Come with!
Debbie Ridpath Ohi (aka Inkygirl) is a terrific writer and illustrator. Her blog is well worth a full exploration.
I'm not yet a vegan or even a full-blown vegetarian, but my new favorite food site is the wonderfully named Vegans Eat Pencil Shavings. Fab food!
This is the 14th of the month, so my blogging schedule (see the drop-down menu above under "About") tells me I must have a post up at Echelon Explorations. Oh, look! I do!
See you tomorrow for a Grab Bag post and then Sunday with a sample of my writing. Have a good weekend! (Only if you want to, of course.)
WRITING PROMPT: A character has to do something under time pressure that usually takes a long time.
MA
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October 13, 2011
What's Hanging On My Wall
Fellow blogger Pat Bean asked "What's hanging on your wall?" today, so I decided to show you.
I bought this at a student art show at Eastern Kentucky University sometime between 1968 and 1972. It's signed Gold. If anybody knows (or is) this artist, THANK YOU for painting this. It's given me many years of joy.
WRITING PROMPT: What's hanging on your main character's wall? OR Pick something that's hanging on your wall and imagine a character who has the same thing on his/her wall but with a different feeling/meaning attached.
MA
October 12, 2011
Long, Thin and Full of Goo
Okra.
This would violate one of my food taboos (slimy things), but I will eat okra if it's sliced and breaded and fried. If you come right down to it, I'll eat just about anything if it's breaded and fried or covered with chocolate.
Okra is gratifying in the garden: fast-growing (ten weeks from planting to harvest), prolific and beautiful, with attractive flowers and ribbed pods somewhat resembling chili peppers. Cross-sections of okra look like wagon wheels — the same arrangement of seeds and goo that you see in cross-sections of tomato. Okra goo, however, is like… well, a public blog is no place to say what okra goo is like, but let's say it's like thin glue and leave it at that.
Okra probably originated in Africa and was brought to the USA by African people kidnapped into slavery. In Angola, okra was called ngombo, which gave a stew thickened with okra its name: gumbo.
This brings me to what brought okra to mind today: Google's landing page tells me that today is Art Clokey's 90th birthday, Art Clokey being the blessed being who brought us Gumby and Pokey. Gumbo, of course, is Gumby's father. "Gumby", in fact, is short for Gumbino, or Little Gumbo. With that, I invite you to join me in a frolic in GumbyWorld.
My mother loves okra, and I may someday be mature enough to give it the chance it deserves.
Naaaaahhh!
WRITING PROMPT: Invent a story, toy, show, movie, or puppet theater production that gave your main character joy when he or she was a child.
MA
