Lou Harper's Blog, page 7

Thursday Blather

In a recent bout of silliness a freshly hatched author decided to lecture readers about how to review books. KJ Charles' post pretty much sums up how I feel about this, so I won't keep kicking the dead horse. However, I have a few stray thoughts on the subject.

1. Reviews are for the readers not for the authors. This seems obvious, but even some of the reviewers themselves seem to be confused about this point. No, sorry, you're not providing constructive feedback to the author. That ship has sailed with critique partners, beta readers, and editors on board. There's no guarantee the author will ever see your analysis of their work. They are under no obligation to read it. If you're writing your reviews for them, you're on the wrong path.

2. There's no wrong way to read a book. The creative process doesn't end with the author. Every single reader brings themselves to the story and bring it to completion. Consequently, no two people experience the same piece of art the exact same way. Without an audience, any artwork is the proverbial tree falling in the forest. Of course, every once in a while you get an interpretation way out of left field. C'est la vie; best to find the humor in it.

The book either stands on its own legs or it doesn't. Once upon a time I went to graduate school, studying art. It might have been a mistake. We spent a lot of time standing around, discussing each others' work using post- and post-post-modern lingo. Or at least the others did, because I sucked at it. My opinion is the same now as was then: if the artwork doesn't draw me in on a visceral level, no amount of smart talk will help.

3. Authors don't need to read the reviews of their books. I'm too curious not to, but I don't blame anyone who doesn't. When I was an undergrad art student, we spent a fair amount of time discussing each others' work without using big words and art theory. And it was good, but it took time to get used to. You go there, proud, showing your creation to your peers and they start picking it apart. It fucking hurts. But if you listen you learn from it and get better.

I have grown a much thicker skin thanks to this experience, but when I receive that constructive feedback from my beta readers, my first instinct is still to kick against it. However, when I begin to consider their points, 99% times I have to admit they're right. The story will improve, but it's a painful process. No wonder authors who are too young and/or inexperienced can't deal with criticism. However, criticism will happen whether you like it or not, so you better buckle up.

Wednesday Word: Contumacious

contumacious |ˌkänt(y)əˈmā sh əs|adjective archaic or Law(esp. of a defendant's behavior) stubbornly or willfully disobedient to authority.DERIVATIVEScontumaciously adverbORIGIN late 16th cent.: from Latin contumax,contumac- (perhaps from con- ‘with’ + tumere ‘to swell’ ) + -ious .

I don't remember where I picked up this little gem, but I suspect it was one of the Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries I was listening to. Against my expectations, I rather enjoyed the stories. The prose and attitudes are remarkably fresh despite being written almost a century ago. Probably more so than some contemporary novels set in the same time period.

Vintage Monday: Viennese Gents

So, last night after a long day of working plopped down in front of the telly, thinking it was Saturday. Then I saw my Sunday shows playing and was very confused for a minute. Where the frak did the weekend go? And it's bloody Monday again--pardon my British. So I give you these two gents and back to the grind stone. Ta!

Thursday Musing

Admittedly, I have zero mothering instinct, but I've never thought of my books as my "babies" any more than most wild animals have such notions of their grown offsprings. You can fend for yourself now, so get lost. I have the next generation to deal with.

Wednesday Word: Scrimshaw

(Tibetan carved skull)
scrimshaw |ˈskrimˌ sh ô|verb [ trans. ]adorn (whalebone, ivory, shells, or other materials) with carved or colored designs.nouna piece of work done in such a way.• the art or technique of producing such work :craftsmen demonstrate sailmaking and scrimshaw.ORIGIN early 19th cent.: of unknown origin; perhaps influenced by the surname Scrimshaw.

I came across this word recently while listening to The Atrocity Archives, a pretty good urban fantasy novel that mixes science with demonology.

I like the sound of this word--it has whimsy. As a name it's frightfully British. I'm going to store it away for later use.

Vintage Monday: The Ladies

The latest season of Downton Abbey has started, and I'm starting to wonder what those upper crust ladies did all day, aside from changing from one outfit to another. They must've been bored out of their skulls. Well, at least the manor has a radio now.

Wednesday Word: Fell

fell 4adjective poetic/literaryof terrible evil or ferocity; deadly : sorcerers use spells to achieve their fell ends.PHRASESin (or at) one fell swoop all at one time : nothing can topple the government in one fell swoop. [ORIGIN: from Shakespeare's Macbeth ( iv. iii. 219).]

I have a confession to make: I've not till recently knew the many meanings of fell, aside from past tense of fall. I simple accepted one fell swoop as is, possibly because the expression is so wonderfully sinuous it must be right. Like a snake plunging in for the kill.

Vintage Monday: The New Year Edition

Time for reflections? 2014 was not an easy year for me, full of struggles, a health scare, and epic anxiety attacks with reason. I'll just file them away as material for future stories. (Writers are cannibals.) I'm cautiously optimistic for 2015.

New Year's Eve Virtual Potluck - And a Chance to Win

Food is more than just sustenance. Jon, the narrator of Dead in L.A. and Dead in the Desert, is a manly man, former construction worker. However, he also cooks and rather well. Deep down he's a nurturer and making sure loved ones eat well is one of the ways he takes care of them.
Jon does everything he can to deny and suppress his growing attraction and affection toward, his new roommate, Leander, but he gives himself away when he starts feeding the guy.
Before Jon, Leander lived on instant ramen, sandwiches, and herbal teas. The only thing he can really cook is chicken soup, but he makes it only when somebody is ill. He appreciates good food though, especially after work. Oh yeah, he's a psychic pet detective, and unofficial consulting police psychic.
I plan to publish the third and final installment of their story in February. It's tentatively titled Dead and Unfound. The story takes place in autumn when the weather might get cold even in Southern California. It might even rain. It's a perfect season for Jon to make goulash.
Many people think goulash is a stew, but they are wrong and should be ashamed of their ignorance. True goulash is a hearty soup of meet and vegetables. Add a slice of bread and it's a meal.


Goulash Soup (Gulyásleves)
Ingredients
·      5 slices bacon, chopped·      3 pounds boneless chuck, trimmed and cut into 1/2-inch cubes·      2 tablespoons vegetable oil·      4 medium onions (about 1 1/2 pounds), chopped fine·      3 garlic cloves, minced·      3 tablespoons paprika (preferably Hungarian sweet*)·      1 1/2 teaspoons caraway seeds·      1/3 cup all-purpose flour·      1/4 cup red-wine vinegar·      1/4 cup tomato paste·      5 cups beef broth·      5 cups water·      1/2 teaspoon salt·      2 red bell peppers, chopped fine·      4 large russet (baking) potatoes (about 2 1/2 pounds)*available at specialty foods shops and many supermarkets
Preparation
In an 8-quart heavy kettle cook bacon over moderate heat, stirring, until crisp and transfer with a slotted spoon to a large bowl. In fat remaining in kettle brown chuck in small batches over high heat, transferring it as browned with slotted spoon to bowl.
Reduce heat to moderate and add oil. Add onions and garlic and cook, stirring, until golden. Stir in paprika, caraway seeds, and cook, stirring, 2 minutes. Whisk in vinegar and tomato paste and cook, whisking, 1 minute. Stir in broth, water, salt, bell peppers, bacon, and chuck and bring to a boil, stirring. Simmer soup, covered, stirring occasionally, 45 minutes.
Peel potatoes and cut into 1/2-inch pieces. Add potatoes to soup and simmer, covered, occasionally until tender, about 30 minutes. Season soup with salt and pepper. 
*****
For more potluck entrées:

You can "choose your own dinner adventure" from appetizers, soup, salad, main dish and dessert, but those of you who visit and comment at each and every blog will be entered into a drawing for one of three (3) $35.00 gift cards to the venue of your choice: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or All Romance Ebooks. For more info and clickable links, go HERE .

Vintage Monday: Flammable Memories

That's me at Christmas a lifetime ago. Yes those are real candles on the tree. We only lit them for a few minutes, but we still had a few minor tree fires over the years. We later upgraded to string lights, but they were Russian made an liable to zap you.

I must've been three or four at the time of this photo--still the age when people used to tell me what a cute little boy I was. Probably because of the haircut, and that I didn't like wearing dresses. I always made a big issue telling them I was a girl.

I was shy and had no manners back then. Consequently, I often got the "Did the cat get your tongue?"  question from adults. To which I stuck it out at them. My mother was mortified, I didn't understand why, I was only showing those people the errors of their assumptions.

Looking back, I have to admit not much changes. I'm still an introvert with no social skills, refuse to wear dresses, and my hair is short. Though the last time someone mistook me for a guy was in college, and only from behind. I must've walked like a man. One thing is different: I don't put candles on the tree.