Richard Roberts's Blog, page 17
March 15, 2012
Less Scrutable By The Minute
And now, the dominos begin to fall. I hope the next chapter will be available soon, because it is the end of one part of the book and the beginning of the next. This is, after all, the story of a 13 year old middle school girl supervillain.
Chapter Five!
Chapter Five!
March 7, 2012
Anecdotes (Duck Edition)
So, we're going to skip over my unpleasant weekend to talk about the thing that happened just before it all descended into pain and fury. It was a bright and pretty Saturday morning, although quite gusty. I had a big bag of homemade bread that for miscellaneous reasons nobody was going to eat. I thought I'd go feed the ducks.
There's a duck pond nearby, a big cement thing behind an apartment complex. The walk is nice exercise if I go the long way, and I can bring my iSpud and pump myself full of music to inspire me for a day of writing. When I got there I couldn't see any ducks, only the two huge swans who swam right up to the edge of the pond and glared at me because I held food, might hold food, or might be made into food if I didn't pony up some bread. I tossed them a couple of crusts, and while they were busy I found that the duck flock was hidden around the corner of the building. They don't like getting near the swans, but the swans had food and would stay out of the way for awhile. The ducks saw a sucker and beelined for me. It looked like a great day of duck feeding.
Then duck nature took over. Ducks are, basically, feathered bags of spite. I threw out the first piece of bread, and every duck in the pond turned and attacked its neighbor. One single hen or duckess or whatever you call it had her eye on the prize, but in doing so she earned the ire of two mallards, who chased her relentlessly around the pond until I left. It might have been a mating thing, because 'consent' is a concept mallards leave to lesser avians, but none of the other mallards cared. These two just had an obsession. She'd fly to the other side of the pond, and they'd swim right through the flock, setting off more fights among anyone who'd settled down to feed, to attack her again.
Then the wind picked up, and thrashing waves - in a duck pond - swept the entire flock to the far side of the pond. The waves tipped the swans far enough over for me to learn that swans have huge, hideously mottled legs. I decided to go home, my faith in Nature restored.
There's a duck pond nearby, a big cement thing behind an apartment complex. The walk is nice exercise if I go the long way, and I can bring my iSpud and pump myself full of music to inspire me for a day of writing. When I got there I couldn't see any ducks, only the two huge swans who swam right up to the edge of the pond and glared at me because I held food, might hold food, or might be made into food if I didn't pony up some bread. I tossed them a couple of crusts, and while they were busy I found that the duck flock was hidden around the corner of the building. They don't like getting near the swans, but the swans had food and would stay out of the way for awhile. The ducks saw a sucker and beelined for me. It looked like a great day of duck feeding.
Then duck nature took over. Ducks are, basically, feathered bags of spite. I threw out the first piece of bread, and every duck in the pond turned and attacked its neighbor. One single hen or duckess or whatever you call it had her eye on the prize, but in doing so she earned the ire of two mallards, who chased her relentlessly around the pond until I left. It might have been a mating thing, because 'consent' is a concept mallards leave to lesser avians, but none of the other mallards cared. These two just had an obsession. She'd fly to the other side of the pond, and they'd swim right through the flock, setting off more fights among anyone who'd settled down to feed, to attack her again.
Then the wind picked up, and thrashing waves - in a duck pond - swept the entire flock to the far side of the pond. The waves tipped the swans far enough over for me to learn that swans have huge, hideously mottled legs. I decided to go home, my faith in Nature restored.
February 23, 2012
Another Interruption Over
This will be short, because I need to fall on my face.
It's time to clean up Quite Contrary and start thinking about publishing. I got through the first editing pass on about a quarter of it, then went into writing starvation. So I wrote the next chapter of The Inscrutable Machine in a fit of madness.
Enjoy.
I will fall on my face now.
It's time to clean up Quite Contrary and start thinking about publishing. I got through the first editing pass on about a quarter of it, then went into writing starvation. So I wrote the next chapter of The Inscrutable Machine in a fit of madness.
Enjoy.
I will fall on my face now.
February 5, 2012
Back To The Machine!
Sometimes a writer stops and goes 'Where did those five thousand words come from?' I was worried that interrupting The Inscrutable Machine to write a short story would kill my mojo. Apparently not.
Here's Chapter Three!
And now I leave you to it. I'm getting that post-writing collapse, and I have a terrible headache and blah blah blah. Chapter 4 is already plotted out. I could theoretically begin writing it tomorrow.
Here's Chapter Three!
And now I leave you to it. I'm getting that post-writing collapse, and I have a terrible headache and blah blah blah. Chapter 4 is already plotted out. I could theoretically begin writing it tomorrow.
January 29, 2012
Above The Clouds
So, I got into the last Kindle All Stars anthology, and I want to get into this one coming up. It's young adult, which is right up my alley. Alas, I got all inspired and the story I wrote is too long. Oops.
But that means I can post it here!
It's a Xeno Romeo and Juliet, set in steampunk. I'm really proud of it, and I hope everyone enjoys. I intend to publish it as a free sample of my work in the near future.
But that means I can post it here!
It's a Xeno Romeo and Juliet, set in steampunk. I'm really proud of it, and I hope everyone enjoys. I intend to publish it as a free sample of my work in the near future.
January 16, 2012
Oh
And yeah, also I finished chapter two.
I'm not needing as much in the way of breaks between chapters as I used to. Not sure what that means and if it will persist.
I'm not needing as much in the way of breaks between chapters as I used to. Not sure what that means and if it will persist.
The Intermediate Lost Boy
Someone quoted Peter Pan online again, recently. This always blows me away, because I have read Peter Pan. I have to wonder if they have, but I don't want to just be rude.
See, Peter Pan is messed up.
I mean, MESSED UP. I write about abused children, I like gothy dark stuff like cannibal serial killer pastel ponies, and 'how many main characters are going to die?' is a good question to ask before picking up anything I write. Peter Pan makes my skin crawl.
It's not the acts that are portrayed. There's a fair amount of murder and spiteful cruelty in Peter Pan, but kids like dramatic tension as much as adults do. What's messed up about Peter Pan is the attitude. Peter Pan is nothing short of a psychopath. Other people's happiness is something he can only barely comprehend. Friendships are entirely about what someone can do for him. He really, really enjoys killing people, and looks forward to his Lost Boys growing up so that he can force them out of his club and make them become pirates and he can butcher them. Morally, he and Captain Hook are not an eyelash apart.
This is presented as the magic of childhood. The good part. Not the wonder of strange things around every corner, or boundless imagination, or the ability to love freely. The book Peter Pan presents Peter as the perfect child and his life as the perfect childhood because it is filled with absolute selfishness and gleeful cruelty. One of the examples of Peter Pan's personality (SPOILER) the book uses is that at the very end Tinkerbell dies, and he doesn't notice or care. Other people have no value to Peter Pan, and again, he's held up as the very model of what childhood should be.
Reading a book saturated with that attitude gave me the heebie-jeebies. Oh, and the passages about how grown women naturally have the hots for Peter because he has all his baby teeth - that was messed up, too.
See, Peter Pan is messed up.
I mean, MESSED UP. I write about abused children, I like gothy dark stuff like cannibal serial killer pastel ponies, and 'how many main characters are going to die?' is a good question to ask before picking up anything I write. Peter Pan makes my skin crawl.
It's not the acts that are portrayed. There's a fair amount of murder and spiteful cruelty in Peter Pan, but kids like dramatic tension as much as adults do. What's messed up about Peter Pan is the attitude. Peter Pan is nothing short of a psychopath. Other people's happiness is something he can only barely comprehend. Friendships are entirely about what someone can do for him. He really, really enjoys killing people, and looks forward to his Lost Boys growing up so that he can force them out of his club and make them become pirates and he can butcher them. Morally, he and Captain Hook are not an eyelash apart.
This is presented as the magic of childhood. The good part. Not the wonder of strange things around every corner, or boundless imagination, or the ability to love freely. The book Peter Pan presents Peter as the perfect child and his life as the perfect childhood because it is filled with absolute selfishness and gleeful cruelty. One of the examples of Peter Pan's personality (SPOILER) the book uses is that at the very end Tinkerbell dies, and he doesn't notice or care. Other people have no value to Peter Pan, and again, he's held up as the very model of what childhood should be.
Reading a book saturated with that attitude gave me the heebie-jeebies. Oh, and the passages about how grown women naturally have the hots for Peter because he has all his baby teeth - that was messed up, too.
January 14, 2012
Where Did The Time Go?
Needless to say, since all of my characters are crazy, so am I. The special neural chemistry that produces angry, abused Little Red Riding Hoods and dreamland paper streamer goldfish relies heavily on good 'ol bipolar disorder.
One of bipolar's fun little quirks is 'manic related insomnia.' Sleep requires relaxation. It's quite hard to relax when you're manic, even a little manic. You tend to stay up late, or wake up and have trouble getting back to sleep. This has an interesting side effect. In order to remain functional when you're low on sleep, you get more manic! And that increased mania makes it harder to sleep. This cycle is quite capable of proceeding until you're bouncing off the walls and have to be hospitalized. I've watched it happen.
Thankfully, my bipolar's fairly mild. The insomnia's not going to rev up until I'm hospitalized. Instead, it'll rev up until, like Thursday, I've had less than four hours of sleep and I'm incapable of doing anything that requires thought that day. Then, in desperation, I take a magical drug called 'seroquel' for a few days. Seroquel is very, very strong. The first day, like yesterday, I'm usually so tired and doped up I'm incapable of doing anything that requires thought. Fortunately, I adapt quickly. Today I'm mostly functional, which means I should probably increase the dose (I'm taking really tiny amounts) tonight.
So what I'm sayin' is, I'm in the middle of Chapter 2, but I didn't get any writing done the last couple of days. Hopefully some today!
One of bipolar's fun little quirks is 'manic related insomnia.' Sleep requires relaxation. It's quite hard to relax when you're manic, even a little manic. You tend to stay up late, or wake up and have trouble getting back to sleep. This has an interesting side effect. In order to remain functional when you're low on sleep, you get more manic! And that increased mania makes it harder to sleep. This cycle is quite capable of proceeding until you're bouncing off the walls and have to be hospitalized. I've watched it happen.
Thankfully, my bipolar's fairly mild. The insomnia's not going to rev up until I'm hospitalized. Instead, it'll rev up until, like Thursday, I've had less than four hours of sleep and I'm incapable of doing anything that requires thought that day. Then, in desperation, I take a magical drug called 'seroquel' for a few days. Seroquel is very, very strong. The first day, like yesterday, I'm usually so tired and doped up I'm incapable of doing anything that requires thought. Fortunately, I adapt quickly. Today I'm mostly functional, which means I should probably increase the dose (I'm taking really tiny amounts) tonight.
So what I'm sayin' is, I'm in the middle of Chapter 2, but I didn't get any writing done the last couple of days. Hopefully some today!
January 8, 2012
You Can't Scrute The Machine!
Oh, writing feels SO GOOD. Okay, long break over. It ended the way writing breaks should, with me desperately writing something because my brain was about to explode and I couldn't sleep at night for the ideas.
Here, have Chapter One!
In case I haven't mentioned it fifty times, this is the beginning of The Inscrutable Machine, a book about a middle school girl supervillain. Quite Contrary filled me with a burning passion, but it was dark. It kept getting darker, and by the end it just wrung me completely dry of darkness for awhile. I'm going to try to keep The Inscrutable Machine light and frothy.
Yeah, good luck with that.
As an interesting note, I kept feeling that I wasn't ready to start writing it. I had too many unanswered questions about the story. Then I absolutely had to write, so I started it. After that first page, everything began falling into line. I understood the context, and was able to finish my outlines and plan for what comes next. That layered 'theory, then practice, then more theory, then more practice' approach is pretty common in my life. Didn't expect to see it in writing.
Here, have Chapter One!
In case I haven't mentioned it fifty times, this is the beginning of The Inscrutable Machine, a book about a middle school girl supervillain. Quite Contrary filled me with a burning passion, but it was dark. It kept getting darker, and by the end it just wrung me completely dry of darkness for awhile. I'm going to try to keep The Inscrutable Machine light and frothy.
Yeah, good luck with that.
As an interesting note, I kept feeling that I wasn't ready to start writing it. I had too many unanswered questions about the story. Then I absolutely had to write, so I started it. After that first page, everything began falling into line. I understood the context, and was able to finish my outlines and plan for what comes next. That layered 'theory, then practice, then more theory, then more practice' approach is pretty common in my life. Didn't expect to see it in writing.
December 27, 2011
The Fat (Rodney Dangerfield Edition)
I have held many jobs in my time. My career path has been bizarre and wandering. I have never gotten less respect than I do as a writer, and since I'm feeling 'bemused' rather than 'angry' about that right now, I'mma gonna write about it.
When I say 'respect' I don't mean personally, like 'You're no good at this'. I mean professionally. I got more professional courtesy in my time working fast food than I have as a writer.
This comes to mind because recently I was approached for a writing job. A friend of mine and seven of his friends are making a game, and my friend (who I will call Tiny) asked me if I'd be interested in doing the writing. Hey, a relaxing side project. Sure, sounded like fun. Then a couple of weeks ago I found out that no, they're serious, and they offered me money. 500e is not huge in the scheme of things, but it means they're serious. So I got seriously to work, and after checking every step along the way if they liked the ideas, I was told to scrap everything because I had misunderstood the project. So I got into contact with the project lead, who seems to have not actually gotten any of my messages or had any of hers passed to me. I'm not sure, because when I ask her questions she lectures me about writing instead of answering them. And now she hasn't answered my email in a week. I'm hoping THAT is just the holidays, but damn.
That project still may work out, it may just be communications problems, but I'm less than hopeful because it's not exactly new.
See, early in the year I got contacted by an animation studio. Honest to Celestia animation studio in India, established and at least moderately successful - I checked. They wanted to produce a cartoon for the American market, and needed a writer. They professed to love every idea I gave them. Then they got slow answering my emails. I was told the marketing department wanted to develop a certain character idea. I thew a pitch at them. They told me they liked it and wanted more development. I threw a more developed version at them. It's been about six months, and they never answered my email. The person I know personally in the company told me that they weren't upset with me, but to forget about them until and unless they got back to me. Probably marketing canceled the whole project - that's really common in animation. But damn, the professional discourtesy in being unwilling to tell me, right?
Or I could go back to when I tried to submit for freelance to Klasky-Csupo, carefully following their submission instructions and providing the proper waivers, only to be told that they no longer accepted submissions. See, they'd changed their policy to only working with a set of preapproved agents, but they hadn't bothered to change the phone line that explained how to submit. PROFESSIONAL COURTESY.
And the 'Next issue!' magazine debacle...
Whew! That was fun to get off my chest. Am I just unlucky, or do all writers get treated like they're expendable?
When I say 'respect' I don't mean personally, like 'You're no good at this'. I mean professionally. I got more professional courtesy in my time working fast food than I have as a writer.
This comes to mind because recently I was approached for a writing job. A friend of mine and seven of his friends are making a game, and my friend (who I will call Tiny) asked me if I'd be interested in doing the writing. Hey, a relaxing side project. Sure, sounded like fun. Then a couple of weeks ago I found out that no, they're serious, and they offered me money. 500e is not huge in the scheme of things, but it means they're serious. So I got seriously to work, and after checking every step along the way if they liked the ideas, I was told to scrap everything because I had misunderstood the project. So I got into contact with the project lead, who seems to have not actually gotten any of my messages or had any of hers passed to me. I'm not sure, because when I ask her questions she lectures me about writing instead of answering them. And now she hasn't answered my email in a week. I'm hoping THAT is just the holidays, but damn.
That project still may work out, it may just be communications problems, but I'm less than hopeful because it's not exactly new.
See, early in the year I got contacted by an animation studio. Honest to Celestia animation studio in India, established and at least moderately successful - I checked. They wanted to produce a cartoon for the American market, and needed a writer. They professed to love every idea I gave them. Then they got slow answering my emails. I was told the marketing department wanted to develop a certain character idea. I thew a pitch at them. They told me they liked it and wanted more development. I threw a more developed version at them. It's been about six months, and they never answered my email. The person I know personally in the company told me that they weren't upset with me, but to forget about them until and unless they got back to me. Probably marketing canceled the whole project - that's really common in animation. But damn, the professional discourtesy in being unwilling to tell me, right?
Or I could go back to when I tried to submit for freelance to Klasky-Csupo, carefully following their submission instructions and providing the proper waivers, only to be told that they no longer accepted submissions. See, they'd changed their policy to only working with a set of preapproved agents, but they hadn't bothered to change the phone line that explained how to submit. PROFESSIONAL COURTESY.
And the 'Next issue!' magazine debacle...
Whew! That was fun to get off my chest. Am I just unlucky, or do all writers get treated like they're expendable?
