Ken Lizzi's Blog, page 21
October 16, 2022
‘Tis the Season (Again.) Resurrected Post.
December again. How did that happen? If seems like I���ve only just finished washing up the Thanksgiving dishes. And now I���m neck-deep in stringing lights along the rain-gutters, hanging ornaments on a tree, and vacuuming up glittering refuse from homemade Christmas card creation.
Thanksgiving is ��� as the name ought to clue one in ��� about gratitude. New Year���s Eve is about reflection. Christmas? Setting aside the religious aspect ��� which is what I do, placing it far over there where I���m less likely to stumble over it ��� what is Christmas about? It isn���t about presents, at least not receiving them: a family man in his late forties does not anticipate a pile of gifts with his name on them waiting under the tree. Giving them, well sure. For the younger recipients ��� in my case the HA ��� Christmas is all about the presents.
Is it about family? Maybe. But what about those without much in the way of family, or far from family? I recall Christmas in Haiti. My tent mate and I set up a miniature tree atop our battlebox, added the presents we���d received, and managed to make a bit of a production out of it. And the Christmas dinner was excellent. (I���ll bend your ear sometime about the cruise ship chefs that KBR hired to feed the camp in Gona��ves.) No family joined either of us there, of course. Yet we enjoyed Christmas, attending to such of the rituals as we could.
So perhaps Christmas is about the ritual, the observance of something becoming itself the thing observed. It���s recursive: Christmas is about the feeling of Christmas which is generated by the celebration of Christmas. I don���t know. Whatever it is, I enjoy it.
In case I don���t get around to it later, Merry Christmas everyone.
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Published on December 09, 2018 14:16
A Farewell. Resurrected Post.
It has been an integral part of my life for over twenty years. We���ve had ups and downs. I���ve endeavored to pay a constant amount of attention to it, able to lavish more some months than others. We���ve been through a lot: several apartments, a military deployment, a condominium, a house. But now the time has come to say goodbye. The steadfast constant of so many years is no more.
I have paid off my law school student loan.
I considered starting with a Julius Caesar riff: I come to bury it, not praise it. I don���t know; I like to think there���s more comedy than tragedy to a student loan. I also considered titling this post Requiem for a Student Loan, but that would have given away the gag.
Seriously, this milestone in my life is a millstone removed from around my neck. I feel I can breathe more easily.
Here���s a little student loan anecdote for you: I enlisted in the Army Reserves after college after first examining what the other branches of service could offer. The Army ponied up the promise of $20,000 in student loan repayment. Sounded good for someone about to take on a load of debt for law school. Well, some of that number vanished due to a failure on someone���s part to timely file certain paperwork. I���ll name no names. Then, right as I began my third year in law school, my services were urgently demanded to secure America���s vital interests in Haiti. Thus I was out of school for a year. Now, when you are not actively enrolled in school, your loans become due. I endeavored to explain to a customer service representative of the loan company that I didn���t want to drop out for a year, that this wasn���t voluntary: the United States government demanded that I do so. His response: ���It���s not our fault you joined the Army.��� Hence interest began to accrue. Coincidentally, it amounted to roughly the same amount the Army provided in student loan repayment. So, financially, it was a wash.
And now, I���m done. Can I get a Huzzah?
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Published on December 02, 2018 14:39
Another Obligatory Thanksgiving Post. Resurrected Post.
Advice from a man who probably has no business giving advice: Remain grateful but beware contentment. There, that ought to cover Thanksgiving.
MBW, the HA, and I drove to the Oregon Coast Wednesday for an extended Thanksgiving weekend. The weather was appropriately Oregon Coast-ish: wet and windy, though we did enjoy occasional sun breaks.
I think we all enjoyed the trip. The little condo we rented overlooked the beach and the breaking surf proved constantly engaging. I could stare at it for extended periods. That might explain why I got only minimal writing done; enough that I don���t feel bad about it but I certainly could have cranked out more words.
A minimal Thanksgiving feast of roasted turkey breast, mashed potatoes and gravy, and salad still left us full and with leftovers. Pie was redundant. I ate some anyway.
The HA has always found aquariums fascinating. We drove to Newport and spent a couple of hours at the Oregon Aquarium.
There was also beer. Of course there was beer. I tried a beer/wine mashup at the Pelican Pub and Brewery in Pacific City. I enjoyed it as a curiosity but wouldn���t go back for seconds. The taster tray at Rogue Brewing in Newport ranks among the best I���ve tried. I briefly considered the possibility of marrying the Batsquatch. But I soon realized I would be consistently cheating on it with the Combat Wombat so decided to retain my monogamous relationship with a human being. One of my wiser choices I think.
I hope my American readers enjoyed Thanksgiving. And I hope the rest of you had a good Thursday. If not, perhaps some pictures will help make up for it.
Published on November 25, 2018 13:34
Long Expected Parties. Resurrected Post.
I am celebrating the HA���s fifth birthday today. It isn���t her birthday yet; that will occur later this week. But the important point of a child���s birthday party is the party. Sunday works better for a gathering of her little friends than does the day after Thanksgiving.
Shortly after today���s party we celebrate the birthday of MBW. One impact of moving to the United States that certainly never occurred to me and I doubt occurred to her, is that her birthday ��� a day she could always associate with herself and herself alone ��� now falls near or on a major holiday. And then, on top of that, her daughter demanded quite forcefully (on pain of death isn���t putting it too strongly) to be born the day after. I imagine she often feels a bit neglected with everyone concerned about preparations for Thanksgiving, or, if they are cognizant of a birthday at all, it is the HA���s birthday, not MBW���s.
I rented a house on the coast for the Thanksgiving weekend. This will be an intimate, immediate family only Thanksgiving. The big family event at some relative���s house is a nice tradition and often enjoyable. But I think we���ve travelled enough this year. And I want MBW to receive the attention she might not otherwise at a large gathering.
Plus, it will probably be easier to get a bit of writing done. I start chapter 4 of Warlord tomorrow. I���ll see how far I can get over the long weekend with a bellyful of turkey.
Happy Thanksgiving to those of you in the States. For the rest of you, when the day arrives, ummm, enjoy your Thursday.
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Published on November 18, 2018 10:15
Orycon 40. Resurrected Post.
Orycon winds down. My last panel is still a couple hours off, so I have a few moments to write this post in the Green Room, where the few remaining authors who haven���t yet taken off for home are congregating. Many look ridden hard and put away wet. A long convention weekend will do that to you. At a certain age staying up late a couple nights running begins to take it out of you.
It���s been a good con with some interesting panels and interesting conversations. My reading was well attended. My thanks to those who came to listen. I hope you enjoyed it.
The weather cooperated. It is pleasant to look out the window and see blue skies above the Columbia River. It will also be nice to look out the windshield and see my house come into view. I���m ready to get home to MBW and the HA.
MBW should be back from her weekend conference on the other side of the country. The HA will likely be sad: she���s spent the weekend with her grandparents who drove up to take care of her. Returning to the care of her boring old mom and dad will be a letdown, I imagine. Well, life is tough, kid.
I should probably begin preparing for the last panel, so that is all for this week. Be good, or at least fake it.
Published on November 11, 2018 12:59
October 11, 2022
Flashing Swords! #4: Barbarians and Black Magicians. Truth in Advertising. Resurrected Post.
Lin Carter presents yet another anthology in his stellar Swords-and-Sorcery series. This one is��Flashing Swords! #4: Barbarians and Black Magicians. Is there more than alliteration fueling the subtitle? He���s certainly doubled the thematic possibilities. Let���s see.
Lin Carter���s introduction is a mere rehash of a theme. Perhaps he was getting tired of covering the same ground in different words. Let���s move on to the content. (Note, I found a good price on a paperback copy, that will match better with the rest of the series on my shelf. The cheap, book club hard back can find a new home, I suppose.)
The Bagful of Dreams. Jack Vance. Seeing Jack VAnce���s name in a publication always makes me happy. Sure, this is a Cugel the Clever story I���ve read before, but I don���t care. Vance���s craft, cadence, and fulsome use of the English language are a pleasure. The droll cynicism of every uttered or internalized thought makes me grin, if not laugh volubly. Cugel is as delightful, amoral, and unredeemable as ever. Vance���s boundless imagination is once again given full rein.��Bagful��is a superlative tale. I suppose this one falls under the rubric of Black Magicians, embodied in Cugel���s antagonist, Iolo.
The Tupillak. Poul Anderson. Mermen. That Northern Thing. Inuits, magic, mayhem. As should be expected, given the Sagas as an influence, the story is grim and tragic.Anderson brings a historian���s eye, a fantasists���s imagination, and his personal affinity for all things Norse to this one. Skoll. I figure this one is chock-full of Barbarians, from the differing parties��� perspectives, at any rate.
Storm in a Bottle. John Jakes. We had a bagful of dreams. Now we have a storm in a bottle. There���s an anthology concept for you: containers of unexpected things. Call it��Oddments. Anyway, it seems every barbarian swordsman must be enslaved at some point in his adventuring career, and Brak is no exception. I���m of two minds about this one. There is some decent adventure in this, and a suggestion of Brak���s intelligence, allowing him to piece together the mystery and solve the puzzle. On the other hand, there is no clean ending to this. Instead it seems the lead-in to another story. A story that does not follow in this anthology. And it all seemed a bit too long and too leadenly constructed to flow well. But stil, it was Brak, fighting sorcery. So, let it slide. And, besides, we get both a Barbarian and a Black Magician. Hurrah.
Swords Against the Marluk. Katherine Kurtz. I confess small familiarity with the Deyrni books. I read one or two of them when I was about twelve. I recall little, other than a certain dissatisfaction with what I felt was a lack of action. I was, remember, only a kid. (Digression begins. I remember much more clearly the library where I read them than the books themselves. I should ��� I clocked a lot of hours there. This was back in the early ���80s. Walking a couple of miles by yourself after school to the library to wait two or three hours for your mother ti pick you up wasn���t considered akin to child abuse back then. End digression.) Anyways, the story is a rather confusing muddle for someone unfamiliar with ��� or who has forgotten ��� the Deyrni novels. And it certainly isn���t S&S. This is High Fantasy. That���s fine, but it isn���t why I bought FS#4. I found the story largely uninteresting, the magic elaborately detailed fo no particular reason I could see, and the king, Brion, to be a bit of an idiot, without even minimal tactical competence. But, if pseudo-medieval European/quasi-elvish fantasy is what you���re in the mood for, this might do. Black Magician? Check.
The Lands Beyond the World. Michael Moorcock. I have a long-standing prejudice against stories in which the main characters forgets prior adventures, perhaps an entire novel���s worth of events, or even long chapters. I���ve read and invested in these doings. I feel cheated if the character who experienced them no longer recalls them, as if now none of those events were ���real.��� As if somehow, I had wasted my time. Added to a sort of generalized distaste for Elric and Moorcock���s sketchy, ruminative omphalos fixation, I wasn���t predisposed to like this tale, one that begins with Elric forgetting the events of his previous adventure. But, y���know, this one is all right. As always, when Moorcock exerts himself, he is inventive, painting colorful, exotic word pictures. He gives us a fine ending of swashbuckling and sorcery, as well as an interesting and subtly complex villain. Absent the brooding opening section, I���d consider this a superior Elric yarn. Black Magician? You bet your soul-stealing sword.
So, I���d say Carter delivered on a specific, though extremely broad, premise, giving us stories of Barbarians and Black Magicians. Overall, a fine entry in the series, though I feel with the addition of Katherine Kurtz that Carter is beginning to cast more widely afield for contributors.
Here���s the point in the post where I try to sell you something. I���m pleased to announce that I signed a contract for a three-book series. More on that later. But I can hardly sell you something that isn���t even on the publisher���s schedule yet. So, how about one of��these? Or one of��these?��This, perhaps? Or browse��here, see if something catches your eye. If you pick something up, let me know what you think of it. Feedback is, I think, valuable for writer who hopes to do more than just amuse himself with his scribbling.
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Published on��January 17, 2021 10:50
October 9, 2022
Grab Bag: Year’s Finest Fantasy, Texas Renaissance Festival, and Savage Journal Entry 11.
I picked up a paperback copy of Terry Carr���s inaugural Year���s Finest Fantasy. In all honesty I may have read this before, as a kid, shortly after its publication in 1978. The more I read (or re-read) the more convinced I became. Some of these stories are familiar, naggingly so. I can���t speculate based on the Jack Vance story: I���ve read Bagful of Dreams so often I can���t recall when I first read it. But the Steven King story has stuck with me for a long time. A very long time. And the Frankenstein story draws resonance from old memories. Maybe I didn���t read this back in the day. Maybe. But if not, I’ve read most (or all)�� of its contents in other anthologies. So, what did I think?
Jeffty is Five. Harlan Ellison. Channeling Ray Bradbury through Harlan Ellison���s edgy filter. Touching, drenched in nostalgia, and tragic. Right off the bat Terry Carr demonstrates the sheer range of fantasy.
The Bagful of Dreams. Jack Vance. A masterpiece I have read often before, and written about here.��
The Cat from Hell. Stephen King. This one stuck with me the first time I read, as did a number of other King short stories. Fantasy, as defined by Carr, ie expansive enough to include horror, which Cat decidedly is. Agreeably gruesome.
Black as the Pit, From Pole to Pole. Steven Utley and Howard Waldrop. I am ��� almost ��� certain I���ve read this before. It���s like a renascent recollection, arising when half asleep, of listening to an old radio show. This continuation of Mary Shelley���s Frankenstein is a hallucinogenic, subterranean journey; a farrago of historical and literary allusions. If I did read this as a kid, I certainly got more out of it this time around. I won���t spoil the easter eggs. Hunt them yourself.
The Kugelmass Episode. Woody Allen. Now I know I���ve read this one before, though I recall the ending involving a dictionary rather than a Spanish language textbook. I do remember it being funny. I probably missed several of the jokes, back in the day.
Manatee Gal Ain���t You Coming Out Tonight. Avram Davidson. It was a pleasure to encounter Avram Davidson again. He was a criminally unsung writer and stylist par excellence. Manatee Gal is a slow burn that in the hands of a lesser writer would bore. But we are in capable hands with AD. The culmination…well, ick. But AD pulls it off masterfully. Clark Ashton Smith could have done it. Jack Vance, maybe, with a degree of tongue-in-cheek humor. This is a terrific exercise in how to tell any story with grace, skill, and panache.
Getting Back to Before it Began. Raylyn Moore. A bagatelle.
Descent of Man. T. Coraghessan Boyle. I���ve read Boyle before. This story matched my memory of his output with precision. Descent is a tragicomedy science-fiction story. What it is doing in this anthology beyond stretching definitions to the breaking point I don���t know. I don���t hold any hardline position on genre boundaries or definitions, so if Terry Carr wanted to consider it a fantasy, then so be it. In any case it was a fine story.
Probability Storm. Julian Reid. I���ve always been a sucker for tavern stories. This one is delightful, clever, amusing. Rather a companion piece or adjunct to Spider Robinson���s Callahan���s Saloon stories. Again I���m nearly positive I���ve read this anthology before: the specifics of the end of this tale have remained with me. I wonder if Julian Reid wrote any more of these Rafferty���s tales.
Growing Boys. Robert Aickman. Not precisely a tedious slog. It is well written and the characters are interesting enough to maintain the reader���s interest. There is, I think, quite a bit going on beneath the surface in an understated, British manner. Some of that I caught, some doubtless eluded me. But I could have used a bit more plot, some connective tissue; a bit of the journalistic who-what-when-why-where. Still, I enjoyed it.
In all, a fine collection, showcasing the breadth of fantasy.
Another showcase is the Texas Renaissance Festival. I drove MBW and the HA north yesterday to check it out. It boasts an impressive layout and infrastructure. Apparently it is open for only two months of the year, and yet consists of extensive, permanent storefronts, eateries, and taverns, all artfully and atmospherically designed. Perhaps the limited duration explains the prices. Maybe I���m just a skinflint, but I balk at spending the price of a six-pack for a single beer. Anyway, I took some pictures.
I���d half hoped to engage in some spontaneous marketing. After all, the place teemed with likely customers of fantasy fiction. Yet the milling groups all seemed self-contained. Opportunities for casual conversation failed to arise. (Perhaps if I���d planted myself in Ye-Olde Tavern and splurged on a couple of those $11 beers I might have contrived something. But I was there with my family.) Oh well. I���ll adapt. Now, for example. How���d you like to read some fantastic, swash-buckling adventure? Try this. Or maybe this.
Anyways, if you���ve been skimming this post to get to the next entry in Magnus Stoneslayer���s chronicle, here you go.
SAVAGE JOURNAL
ENTRY 11.
I had to kill quite a few men today, dear diary.
A country inn is a very insular place. The social hierarchy of a large city ��� or a
wolf pack for that matter ��� is replicated there in microcosm.
I pondered this as I washed down an indifferently roasted joint of mutton with a foaming jack of ale. The pot boy occupied the lowest rung of the status ladder, absorbing abuse even from the serving wenches. The boisterous slab of beef holding court at the table nearest the hearth sat the top rung; no doubt he was a prosperous farmer, still hale but running to fat. The rest jockeyed for positions in between, with the innkeeper himself vying for the role of top dog.��
I, of course, was a stranger, an object of curiosity and fear. Someone would see me as a challenge and act. Inevitable. Not the top dog. His position was secure and all he wanted was for me to move along. No, it would be a middling youth, angling to move up, and gain the respect and approval of the regular drinkers.
And so it proved. A youth left the alpha male’s table and strutted over, smelling of fear and beer, to begin baiting the barbarian. I offered him a face saving retreat. A barrel of ale and a blanket under a roof interested me more than a brawl this night. But he’d gone too far to back down. He struck me. So much for my hopes of beer and bed. I stood and clubbed him down with the three legged stool upon which I’d been seated. Now, dear diary, perhaps you have heard tales of tavern brawls in which stools are smashed across combatants heads left and right, leaving a floor buried in splintered kindling. Let me set the record straight: the seat does not break; the skull breaks. The young man dropped into a slowly spreading pool of blood and oozing brain matter.
There was some hope of it ending there. All had seen him strike me. I merely retaliated. I could see reluctance in the eyes of the nearest. But the pack
mentality held too strong. I set my back to the wall and drew my broadsword.
Smoke from the burning inn still rises in the night sky, tracing arabesques across the face of the moon. And I lie by the banked embers of my small fire, while the roof I’d hoped to sleep under smolders in the distance. Once again, I’m bedding down rough, as I’m accustomed to.
Tomorrow, dear diary, will see me cleaning flecks of blood from my sword and honing out nicks in the blade. But for now, I wish you a fond good night, dear diary.
��
Mangnus Stoneslayer.
��
Orycon 2018 Schedule. Resurrected Post.
Orycon approaches. Time to mingle, share from my meager store of knowledge, and roam from room party to room party.
I received my schedule the other day. If you are in Portland during the convention, pick up a membership and come say hello.
Fri Nov 9 4:00:pm
Fri Nov 9 5:00:pm
Story Pacing: Hurry Up, and Wait
Pettygrove
Speed the story up, raise the stakes, increase the tension ��� But not too much. Readers, like runners, want to keep moving fast but can���t go at a breakneck pace all the time. What are the techniques, large and small, to make you story roller-coaster a fun, exciting ride?
David D. Levine Diana Pharaoh Francis Ken Lizzi Richard A. Lovett Wendy N. Wagner
Fri Nov 9 5:00:pm
Fri Nov 9 6:00:pm
Autograph Session: Friday 5pm
Dealers: Autographs
Authors and artists sign things
Alma Alexander Ken Lizzi
Sat Nov 10 5:00:pm
Sat Nov 10 6:00:pm
Building an Extended Series
Pettygrove
Some readers want to immerse themselves into a series, rather than just a single book. They want to binge. And once your trilogy is done, then what? How to expand your literary universe instead of walking away from your book or short series forever.
Joseph Brassey Ken Lizzi Mike Shepherd Moscoe Seanan McGuire Steve Perry
Sun Nov 11 10:00:am
Sun Nov 11 10:30:am
Ken Lizzi Reading
152 Readings
Ken Lizzi reads from his works.
Ken Lizzi
Sun Nov 11 2:00:pm
Sun Nov 11 3:00:pm
Consequences of Violence
Overton
Random groups wandering the countryside and slaying evil-doers are less likely to be seen as heroes than as murder hoboes. Our panel will discuss the mechanisms that real societies (and realistic fiction) use to limit violent actors.
Crystal Connor Ken Lizzi Rory Miller S. B. Sebrick
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Published on October 21, 2018 13:34
Oh, Horrors! Resurrected Post.
���Tis the month of Halloween, during which we make light of death, the supernatural, and terror. What fun.
For me, the quintessential Halloween book is Roger Zelazny���s A Night in the Lonesome October. (What, you haven���t read that yet? Go hence and remedy that deficiency post haste.) But is it quintessential by default? Are there other Halloween fantasy/science-fiction novels?
I must confess at this point that I am not a fan of horror. I don���t like horror films. I don���t read horror novels. I have made a few exceptions, but they are exceptions. And yet���
There is a powerful streak of horror that runs through fantasy. The fantastic is necessarily outside the mundane. It can either be delightful and charming, which is occasionally fine in narrative, or it can trigger alarm, which is better at creating conflict and maintaining reader interest.
Horror in fantasy is most pronounced, perhaps, in swords and sorcery. Consider Karl Edward Wagner���s Kane novels. Or the frequent Lovecraftian monstrosities Conan constantly stumbled across.
But horror is a constant in even epic fantasy. Consider the lodestone of the genre, The Lord of the Rings. What are the ringwraiths but embodiments (so to speak) of fear? And is not a gigantic spider a fundamentally horrific figure? I���m sure you can add examples.
So, while Zelazny���s book remains my go to Halloween book, I suppose most any fantasy snatched from my shelf might do just as well.
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Published on October 14, 2018 14:18
At Loose Ends. Resurrected Post.
I am undecided how to proceed Monday morning during my standard writing time. Saturday I took MBW���s car in for brake servicing. Sitting, waiting, and drinking coffee I was able to finish outlining Warlord. That is good. Hearty pats on my own back. However, this leaves me with some uncertainty, as I will explain.
I have not yet received editorial comments on book one, Boss. Re-reading Boss and polishing the manuscript would be a productive use of my time. I need to refresh myself on certain names and personalities. But, that appears out for Monday���s writing.
I could begin the second draft of Captain. My preference is to work from a printed copy and the printer is current out of ink. Also, I���d hoped to start on the second draft after re-reading Boss so I could fill in certain blanks that currently read [NAME.] See above for the reason that hope appears likely to go unfulfilled in a timely manner.
I could begin writing Warlord. After all I do have an outline. The problem with this option is that the above two requirements must necessarily interrupt it. A first draft is a commitment of several months. I don���t like interrupting the flow. But in order to hit January and March publishing deadlines I will have to see Boss and Captain completed.
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Published on October 07, 2018 11:53
