Ken Lizzi's Blog, page 65

February Writing Update

Doubtless you are all eager to read of my doings and progress on the writing front. Doubtless. Zero doubts, one hundred percent positivity. So, with that completely unwarranted self-assurance motivating me, I’ll update you.

My short story Mischosen was reprinted this month in Cosmic Scream: Digital Horror Fiction Anthology. I’m rather fond of that story. If you haven’t read, here is a chance to check it out. Let me know what you think of it.

I’m nearing the halfway point of current work-in-progress. I should pass the mark by the end of the month. After discussions with MBW I am increasing the amount time each week I put in at the keyboard. The goal is to complete two novels per year. I am receiving some gentle pressure to get some series fiction banked and ready for publication. That will demand a greater time commitment than I had previously allowed. But MBW encouraged me to make the commitment. So let it be written, so let it be done. Or, should that be: So let it be done, so let it be written?

MBW, the HA, and I will be in Seattle next weekend. (A long weekend: Thursday through Sunday.) I’ll be attending Emerald City Comic Con. Sporting a pro badge on my lanyard, so everyone will know how important I am. MBW and the HA will be enjoying the sights. I think they win. In any case, for those of you in the Seattle area, I’ll be in town if you want to say hello.

Considering the Remaining Appendix N Posts

Glancing at Appendix N I find only a handful of authors remaining. Only five are left for me to write web log posts about. A notable five: Jack Vance, Stanley Weinbaum, Manley Wade Wellman, Jack Williamson, and Roger Zelazny. I’ll be finishing strong.

I’ve read something from all of them. I won’t need to seek any of them out for the first time. In fact, with the exception of Manley Wade Wellman, I have at least one book on my shelves from each of them. And I’m pretty sure Wellman appears in one of the dog-eared, paperback anthologies sitting there just to my right as I write this. Still, I have an excuse to add a Silver John collection to my books.

Jack Vance, the titan, the big dog of Appendix N is in the batting circle. I’m having a wonderful time preparing. I hope no one is in any rush; reading Vance is an experience to savor. A college fiction-writing instructor whose class I took back in the day considered genre fiction — the sort of thing I was predisposed to write — as so much junk food. I should have handed him a volume of Vance, chosen at random, and said “Here’s fine dining, you snob.”

I might feel a bit melancholy when I’ve completed the list. I’ve enjoyed revisiting old favorites and filling in the odd gap. I suppose I’ll need a new project, something to anchor the usual potpourri of nonsense I write here. Any suggestions?

The Web Log Takes a Sick Day

The web log is taking a sick day. I’ll spare you the details of the atrocities this virus has committed in my bowels. And the subsequent unspeakable horrors committed in my toilet bowl. “Unspeakable” may be hyperbole and thus not a literal prohibition or impossibility. But I’m going to honor the word in those latter senses anyway. You are welcome.

You’d think with a few days out of the office I’d be able to get some writing done. You’d be wrong. This is the most I’ve been able to concentrate since Wednesday afternoon. I’m on the mend. The headache is gone. The bowels are growing quiescent. The lethargy, however, remains. Though it is lessening. Enough for me to write this though the simple effort of thinking and typing is tiring.

Enough. I’ll be back next week with more of my regularly scheduled inanity. No virus can long contain me, no pathogen long cage me, not infirmity long dissuade me. I’m in my prime.

Fine Dining, NW Style

Once you have a kid, selecting a place to eat requires factoring in considerations other than quality, cost, and distance. Locating kid-friendly restaurants becomes a constant, background, priority. For those of us who enjoy beer and brewpubs, this search demands even greater focus. One approaches a new prospect with both hope and trepidation.

Yesterday I took MBW and the HA to investigate such a place, meeting up with friends for lunch at Level. Level is a brewpub in Northeast Portland, in an industrial area near the Columbia River Slough and the airport (you know, PDX, famed for travelers taking pictures of their feet on the concourse carpet. For some unfathomable reason.)

 

The decor spoke to me. I’m not much of a video game player, but I do possess some of the nostalgia for retro-gaming that infects most Gen-Xers. The place doesn’t serve food, but immediately outside are a pair of food carts. This is in Portland, afterall. Food cart central. One is a hamburger joint, the other Mexican. We had Mexican. The menu is lengthy enough that it will require numerous return visits to get through it all. The hamburger cart might have to wait. (Though I suppose I might get a burger craving. Who doesn’t? I’m starting to get a hankering right now, just thinking about it. Maybe a 1/3 pounder, cooked just short of medium. With bacon and blue cheese. Some caramelized onions. A thick slice of tomato. Jalapeño mustard on the bun, maybe a few dashes of that green tabasco sauce.)

A large, heated pavilion opens off the brewhouse/taproom. It is filled with long, communal tables. It is dog-friendly, and — yes — kid-friendly. A section in the corner hosts a selection of toys. And a selection of children as well. So, relief. Another one found.

“But”, you ask (or, you ought to) “how was the beer?” Up to snuff, I’d say. In an area replete with beer riches, even average is pretty good. IPAs are what we drink here. It is hard to stand out from the crowd. Bridgeport brews probably the baseline Portland IPA. Everyone else is shooting for somewhere above that line. Breakside and Gigantic exceed the mark. Others, however, land somewhere in the vicinity, hitting below as often as above. Level’s IPAs were acceptable. I did like their Northeast style IPA, a hazy, mellow beer. The Belgian IPA was an intriguing concept. But I don’t anticipate Belgians to exhibit a pronounced hop profile and I don’t expect IPAs to offer that sweet, Belgian yeast flavor. It didn’t work for me. The “Winter Warmer” (which I guess is a Strong Ale) was good, and the Barleywine was serviceable. To answer your question, dear reader, the beer rewarded the trip and is worth return journeys.

Food, beer, and something to occupy the HA for the duration. Success.

Mileage Does Vary

Sometimes a book does not live up to your memory of it, or to its reputation. Sometimes a book is, in as an objective fashion as you can manage, excellent but no thoroughly enjoyable.

I finished John D. MacDonald’s celebrated classic of American tough guy noir The Deep Blue Good-By that introduced the world to Travis McGee. I’ve read MacDonald before: one of his later Travis McGee novels, one of his science fiction novels, Ballroom of the Skies, and several of his short stories. No one needs tell me of his brilliant, prolific talent. I’m willing to stipulate that without reservation.

But. And you knew there would be one, didn’t you? I’m not as enamored of his stuff as perhaps I should be. I sensed a dismissive, disdainful note in Ballroom, as if science fiction was for MacDonald the literary equivalent of slumming. And then there is the famed and celebrated McGee. A well-drawn character. As he, along with Archie Goodwin, serves as one of the progenitors of Glen Cooks’ Garrett, I don’t want to speak too ill of him. (I’ll brook no disparagement of Garrett, you hear?) But Travis McGee is saturated with a post-war cynicism I find off-putting. He disdain everything about the country he lives in and the people who allow him to live the lifestyle he enjoys. Through him MacDonald writes jeremiads against marketing, profits, capitalism, banks, etc. Despite the essential role all of the above played in creating, for example, the Busted Flush on which McGee lives.

The Busted Flush itself is emblematic of McGee’s relationship to America. A houseboat, moored near the tip of Florida — part of the country, yet detached.

Travis McGee is a wonderfully realized character, yet one I find rather unlikable. Which may well have been intentional. I don’t know. But I do know that his characteristics render his stories less enjoyable for me than they might have been otherwise. He doesn’t exactly poison the soup, but he does sour it to a degree.

I’ll still read MacDonald from time-to-time, don’t mistake me. There will remain, however, some reservations, an unwillingness on my part to read him uncritically.

I also finished re-reading The Yngling, by John Dalmas. I bought a copy of this back when I was thirteen or fourteen. The fact that I sold it later maybe should have been a clue. But I’ve reacquired other books from my youth that I enjoyed the second time around. With The Yngling, however, I was disappointed.

There is, for example, the cliffhanger ending. Am I going to pick up the sequel(s) to find out what happens next? I don’t know. I took little enjoyment from the book. The main character possesses ESP. I find myself generally disliking books featuring psionics. And the main character of the Yngling is written as specifically abstracted, cold, inhuman. As with McGee, an unlikeable protagonist can limit the pleasure of a tale. Of course McGee is a complex and well-written character while Nils Järnhand is a rather flat cypher.

The author appeared to have been in a hurry. There is a great deal occurring, yet it is rushed through or happens off-screen. The post-apocalyptic setting offered room for some fun, pulp adventure. But what I read managed to squander the opportunities, turning in some rather dull set-pieces and then moving on to the next in a rather rote fashion. I had some hopes for the villain. Perhaps I should hold on to those hopes as I assume he must pop up again in the sequel(s.) His fate in The Yngling happened in a rather off-hand, anti-climatic fashion. I kept expecting him to reappear, right up to the cliffhanger, somewhat out-of-left-field ending.

So, I don’t know. Have any of you read beyond The Yngling? Is the story compelling enough that I should track down the next book?

January Writing Update

“So how goes the writing, Ken?” I arbitrarily determine you are asking. Well, let me tell you, convenient fictional interlocutor.

I finished Chapter 9 of the the work in progress. That puts me, I guess, about one-third of the way through. Perhaps closer to half. The story will let me know. To paraphrase Elmore Leonard, “Leave out the bits that people skip.” Some sections I envision might end up curtailed. Then again, others might grow. Outlines are, for me, nigh indispensable. But once the actual writing begins they become more like helpful suggestions than unbreakable dictates.

“Will there be a book out this year?” Another fine question. You’re just knocking them out of the park, slugger.

I’m expecting editorial comments soon on Boss. Once I receive those, I anticipate moving on quickly to copyediting. Maybe by the end of February. Maybe. If the manuscript is ready to go by spring, I figure the publisher will get it on the 2018 publishing schedule. I will, naturally, keep you posted. Is it too soon to be considering ideas for cover art?

2018 Tolkien Birthday Bash

Saturday I took MBW and the HA into Portland for the annual J.R.R. Tolkien Birthday Celebration at the Kennedy School. At four-years old, the HA is now able to appreciate it to some extent, though her attention still wanes at times.

We met up with several friends. In the Kennedy School gymnasium  we commandeered a table somewhat too small for our group. But we made do. It was a solid vantage point for enjoying “The Hobbit Greatest Hits” radio performance. The performance is, in fact, live and not broadcast. But ‘radio’ describes the spirit of the endeavor. The troupe encored a new (for them) scene and pulled it off with few hitches. MBW liked observing the foley artists produce the sound effects.

Following the radio play we stuck around for the costume contest. Given that the Tolkien Birthday Bash is a small event, without significant cash prizes, in a minor venue in Northeast Portland, the turnout for the costume contest is impressive. Some of the contestants worked on their costumes all year. The level of enthusiasm and dedication is astonishing. I get it, but objectively, how can one explain the love for a fictional universe over eighty-years old now?

I’m glad that level of affection exists. I’m looking forward to the HA reaching an age at which I can read “The Hobbit” to her, pass along the love to another generation.

2018 Plans

I did not make any New Year’s resolutions. I’m rather content, in general, with life. I always strive to improve, of course, for myself and for MBW and the HA. But I don’t plan to drop ten pounds or start exercising. I already maintain a healthy weight and workout regularly. I don’t intend to quit smoking; I never started. I’ve got a steady job and roof over my head. There is always room to grow, to do more, to increase in prosperity. I’ll continue striving. But I don’t feel the need to make any concrete resolutions.

I do, however, have plans for the year.

I plan to see “Boss” published. The contract is signed. I’m waiting on editorial comments. So I suppose that one is out of my hands.

I plan to finish writing the current WIP. Now, I do need to get my ass in the chair more regularly. I’m not progressing as rapidly as I’d like. As of this writing, I’m about halfway through chapter 9. Maybe a third of the way through the story. But I’ve got twelve months left. I’m not worried. If I can get some dedicated, prolonged writing time, perhaps I can finish early.

Which brings me to my third plan: Travel more. I began the year on the road and already have hotel rooms booked and time-off scheduled for more trips. These trips include conventions. I’ll provide details as the date near. Maybe I’ll have a chance to meet some of you readers in person. MBW and I have tentative plans for even more travel. This year could see me racking up more air miles than usual. If possible, I hope to take advantage of time out of the office to rack up larger daily word counts than usual.

In short, I’m planning on a productive 2018. We’ll see how it goes. And you, dear reader? What does the year auger for you?

Happy New Year from Vancouver, B.C.

Happy New Year’s Eve to you all from sunny Vancouver, British Columbia. Yes, sunny. I just peeked out through the curtains of the hotel room and that is indeed blue sky.

The drive up from Portland was in constant, pounding rain. It did not bode well for the rest of the trip. But come the morning, the weather cleared and we’ve had beautiful, but frigid, weather.

It has been thirty years since I spent any significant amount of time in Vancouver. It no longer resembles my memories of the place. All to the good, I suppose.

MBW enjoyed the view over Lions Gate Bridge. The HA adored the aquarium. But then, she always has. She’s an aquarium junkie. This particular aquarium includes an Amazon exhibit, so along with fish she got bonus marmosets.

The beer is good. I mean, British Columbia is still the Pacific Northwest, national border or no, so of course the beer is good. Speaking of beer: What the hell, B.C? I wanted to put a few brews in the hotel room refrigerator, but the nearby stores don’t carry beer. Apparently, outside of certain rural areas, one must purchase beer at liquor stores. Frankly, this is barbaric. I expect better of a civilized nation. I ended up buying a couple of bottles from the hotel bar. Something called Alexander Keith’s India Pale Ale, which bills itself as the Pride of Nova Scotia. Honestly, Nova Scotia, unless you take pride in producing an IPA sans hops, a beer that tastes more like a sessionable Scotch Ale than an IPA, I’d look for something else to hang your toque on.

See? You get vital travel advice and trenchant political commentary from this web log.

Now, time to find a family friendly, early New Year’s Eve event. Those of you still in possession of the domestic logistics to stay up until midnight, enjoy the ball drop for me.

Wassail On, Wassail Off

Yuletide greetings. Many happy returns. Etc. Merry Christmas, is what I’m saying. I hope you all are enjoying the whole shebang, entire shooting match, soup-to-nuts holiday extravaganza.

MBW wished for a White Christmas. Looks as though she might get her wish. It is not precisely blizzard conditions out there, but more than a dusting has fallen today. We drove farther up the foothills this morning, got the HA some snow time. Then we came home for a combination sidewalk shoveling/snowman building operation.

Both MBW and I come from a tradition of holding the majority of Christmas events on Christmas Eve rather than Christmas morning. So in about an hour it will be time to prep the turkey, get the oven heated, and begin assembling a dinner of absurd proportions for a family of three.

And then, presents. Really the gift is watching the HA open hers. She’s entering the sweet spot of Christmas appreciation. The entire season remains magical for her. And we can leverage Santa Claus for good behavior. Everyone wins.

So, cheers to you all. Get your wassail on and enjoy.