Kurt Brindley's Blog, page 139
October 9, 2014
“PRO” TIP: FOLLOW THIS SIMPLE ADVICE AND YOU, TOO, WILL HAVE ALL THE INFORMATION YOU NEED TO WRITE AND PUBLISH LIKE AN INDIE AUTHOR SUPER PRO – GUARANTEED!
My advise is for you is to read, study, and, for best results, memorize word for word everything that Hugh Howey and JA Konrath have ever written and spoken and (if you find a hack into their brain) thought about regarding the art and business of Indie Writing and Publishing. There are other worthy experts out there, but you might as well focus on and learn from the road-tested best. And that would be these two Super Pro Indie Authors.
That’s it.
See, I told you the advice was simple.
Now the follow through…yeah, well, not so much.
But no one ever said all this stuff was easy.
And if it were…then what fun would that be?
Write On, Writer!
Filed under: Publishing, Writing Tagged: books, Hugh Howey, Indie Authors, indie publishing, JA Konrath, Pro Tips, publishing, publishing advice, writing, writing advice
October 8, 2014
Kabuki.
Oh, how I love the internet and how it single-handily shrunk the globe.
Because of this magic, I recently was able to make the virtual acquaintance of an artist, a visionary artist, a German Artist!
How cool is that?
To some dude sitting in a lazy chair in a house on top of a windy and rolling hill in southern Pennsylvania, it’s pretty frikkin cool.
But the best part about all of this is not so much the magic of the internet (let’s face it, that’s old news), the best part is the all the new Art that I now am aware of and have access to.
And now I would like to share some of that magic and awareness and access with you.
The artist’s name is H SHLAGEN and he is currently working on a style of artwork that he has encompassed under the title of MY BLAKEAN YEAR, which was inspired by the Patti Smith song of the same title.
SHLAGEN’s work from My Blakean Year is evocative, to say the least. Many of the pieces evoke from me dark, haunting, beautiful images similar to what TS ELIOT’s masterpiece The Waste Land evokes.
I shared his piece entitle KABUKI for two reasons: The first being its indelible beauty, and the second being that we both share a deep love for Japan.
So celebrate and enjoy with me my new friendship with German artist H SHLAGEN and his wonderful MY BLAKEAN YEAR artwork by visiting both his personal website, where you can while away the time in mesmerizing fascination, as well as the online gallery where is work is exhibited and available for purchase.
http://hschlagen.com/
http://www.saatchiart.com
Peace
Originally posted on H Schlagen:
Filed under: Art Tagged: art, artists, calligraphy, Germany, Internet, Japan, My Blakean Year, Patti Smith, poetry, T. S. Eliot, The Waste Land, writing
TAKE NOTHING SERIOUSLY
A Come to Jesus Meeting
The meeting, already having had exceeded an hour and seeming as if there were still hours to go, drudged along as if it were a living thing, a slow-stalking, life-threatening, monstrously evil thing. Slide after slide after unrelenting and enervating slide flashed upon the screen and ate away at the brainspace of each of the meeting’s participants. And the screen, reactionary and vindictive, hung over the room like a dystopian all-seeing eye. Watching each participant as if they were a guilty usurper. A potential prisoner. A habeas corpus-less detainee. The meeting became an interrogation. Each slide became an accusation. A crime in search of a criminal. Slide! Slide! Slide! Slide! A waterboarding of slides.
The meeting droned on like a drone checking off its kill list in a holy war without end.
Still, notes were being taken and questions were being asked. If not, they win. Even still, amidst all the note-taking, amidst all the questioning, all knew that all had to have known, though it went religiously unsaid, that each slide, while contributing somewhat to their individual livelihoods, took from them an irreplaceable piece of their lives. Still, all knew that all had to have known that it would be more humane for them, even heroic of them, if, instead of death by a thousand cutting slides, something definite, something uncharacteristically finite, something true and merciful and just were to actually happen in the meeting — an improvised exploding projector? — and they all were to meet their sudden demise. And they all were to become holy martyrs for the sacred cause.
Filed under: Flash Fiction Tagged: business, drones, fiction, flash fiction, holy war, jesus, livelihoods, martyrs, meetings, monsters, short stories, terrorism, writing
October 7, 2014
THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO TOOK THE TIME TO DOWNLOAD THE FREE STORY
YOUR SERVER
AMAZON UNITED STATES CLICK HERE
What made it even worse was that, while his scared mother suffered alone so far away from him, four so-called women were now onboard his ship. He could see them right now strutting around the passageways, each knowing that they were a new and powerful precedent that could not be ignored, or contained. Their mere presence on the ship signaled the beginning of an assault that he knew would quickly overwhelm and dispose of honored traditions and ancient rites that had served, since the first sail was set, to mold weak, malleable landsmen, wogs, into tempered warriors of the sea…
****
The Nineties were a decade of change for the navy. From “Tailhook” to “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” to women finally being allowed to serve alongside men on combatant ships at sea, change came hard and fast.
Set during the time when the United States was on the verge of attacking Haiti as punishment for a recent coup, LEAVE is an attempt to provide fictional insight into what it may have been like to have been stationed on a warship when the first women dared to bravely go where no other women had gone before.
I’m not so certain I would have had their courage.
If you like this short story, you just may like The Sea Trials of an Unfortunate Sailor. Set on a warship stationed at a United States navy base in Yokosuka, Japan, it is a novel about the harsh realities of life on board a warship during the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell era.
Thank you and I hope you enjoy the tale.
GIVEAWAY WILL END MIDNIGHT TONIGHT (PACIFIC)
(3:00AM 8 OCTOBER 14 EASTERN)
Ending time is an approximate
AMAZON WORLDWIDE CLICK HERE
AMAZON UNITED STATES CLICK HERE
Filed under: Publishing, Short Stories Tagged: authors, books, fiction, giveaways, Indie, Indie Authors, Kindle, publishing, short stories, writers, writing
An Ode To A Happy Little Spider
(Or, A Song For A Sad, Unfortunate Fly)
The happy little spider
Climbs the brightly colored wall
To spin a bouncy little web
While the playful blue birds call
Spinning spinning spinning
While humming a happy, cheerful tune
He builds for his tomorrow
In the corner of the room
As the sleepy evening sun
Settles softly into bed
The happy little spider
Spins his final thread
Still humming his cheerful tune
And oh so happy with his feat
He inspects his silky work
To ensure it’s all complete
With the chirping of the crickets
And with the crescent moon in ebb
The happy little spider
Snuggles in his web
As his sleepy eyelids close
Right before his dreams begin
He says his evening prayers
With a happy, thankful grin
For he knows that come tomorrow
When he rises from his bed
His prayers will all be answered
And his belly will be fed
Filed under: Poetry Tagged: blue birds, crickets, happy poems, little spider, moon, poems, poetry, prayers, rhymes, rhyming poems, spiders, sunsets, writing
“PRO” TIP – DO NOT MODERATE ME!
And by me I mean us.
At least those of us who learned as children that Sticks and Stones Can Break Our Bones But Words Can Never Hurt Us…
Okay, maybe sometimes words can hurt but that is not the point.
Okay, maybe that is the point but so what?
We’re Writers, right?
And if you’re not a Writer (which has to be just about impossible if you are posting stuff online) then you’re a Poet or an Artist or some kind of Creator who turns dreams into magical data streams for the world to observe and appreciate.
And as Creators, aren’t we the ones who are supposed to be leading the way to the Ideal?
Aren’t we supposed to be the voice of those who have no voice, or who have no means, or freedom, to express that voice?
If so, then what are most of you out there afraid of?
Okay, based upon my exceedingly-less-than-scientific observations, this post should either offend or illuminate just about every WordPress Content Creator, i.e., blogger, out there.
And my gut (where my science is explored and calculated) is telling me that most of you will mostly be in the “offend” camp.
I would say easily ninety-percent of the comments I leave in response to a thought provoking post have to first be approved or moderated by the site’s Creator before they are published.
Why would you, you the Writer and/or Poet and/or Artist, you the Creator, why would you do that?
What are you afraid of?
Words?
Are you getting so many responses to your posts that the evil hoards of Trolls have taken up arms (Words) against you in an evil effort to suppress your magic and genius?
Probably not.
But if you are, congratulations are in order.
To me, the evil Trolls are just a sign that you made it. You are a success.
Your voice is being heard.
And that is a good thing.
And we all know, because Ms Yin and Mr Yang tell us so, that with the good comes the bad.
In all honestly, I can’t wait until the Trolls come after me.
Bring it.
Anyway…
You know what I see whenever, which is almost always, I get that little message that says my comment has to first be approved/moderated?
I see fear.
I see you hiding in the shadows cast by the glow of the light of your computer screen.
I see you shaking in your pajamas, afraid of what someone might say in response to your artistic genius.
SOMEONE MIGHT NOT LIKE IT!
SOMEONE MIGHT SAY SOMETHING MEAN!
Yeah, maybe.
But while you are busy screening and redacting all the comments you are receiving, there are people all around the world fighting, and dying, to be heard.
To have a voice.
To not be moderated.
What, you think I’m being a little melodramatic?
You think it doesn’t matter whether or not you screen your comments.
If so, then I think you are being very, very (adverbs…yeah, I know) naive.
Law of Attraction, my little insecure genius…
Anyway…
At a minimum, first impressions matter.
What is one to think of you when their first interaction with you involves you first having to do a security check on them?
Trust issues, is what I think.
But then again, some of you may not even know that you are the Putin of your very own Police State.
You may be suppressing freedom and free speech literally (yes I said literally…because I mean it!) around the globe and not even know it.
So, for all the Freedom and Free Speech Lovers around the world (of WordPress), here is all you have to do to fight back against the evil forces of oppression:
Go to your Dashboard, click on Settings, click on Discussion, and then please, please, please, if checked, uncheck the Comment must be manually approved and Comment author must have a previously approved comment boxes.
Do it and I guarantee you will feel empowered knowing that you are not afraid of all the evil forces that are out there just waiting for the right time to attack.
And if you are afraid, it’s okay.
We all are to some degree.
Because, let’s face it, Words really can hurt.
And that’s a little scary.
But when the attack comes, and it will, be ready for it by building up your arsenal of creativity now.
Rise Up! to the challenge.
Work like a possessed ninja on your Writing and/or your Poeting and/or Arting skills.
Use The Force.
Be the Creation.
And when the attack comes, destroy it with Creativity and Expression!
And if that doesn’t work, you ask.
Fuck it…just delete it.
Like the Boss Moderator that you are.
Filed under: Publishing, Writing Tagged: another complaint, artists, authors, Dictators, free speech, freedom, Law of Atrraction, poetry, Pro Tip, Putin, WordPress, writers, writing
AMAZON GIVEAWAY – NOW LIVE
AMAZON UNITED STATES CLICK HERE
What made it even worse was that, while his scared mother suffered alone so far away from him, four so-called women were now onboard his ship. He could see them right now strutting around the passageways, each knowing that they were a new and powerful precedent that could not be ignored, or contained. Their mere presence on the ship signaled the beginning of an assault that he knew would quickly overwhelm and dispose of honored traditions and ancient rites that had served, since the first sail was set, to mold weak, malleable landsmen, wogs, into tempered warriors of the sea…
****
The Nineties were a decade of change for the navy. From “Tailhook” to “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” to women finally being allowed to serve alongside men on combatant ships at sea, change came hard and fast.
Set during the time when the United States was on the verge of attacking Haiti as punishment for a recent coup, LEAVE is an attempt to provide fictional insight into what it may have been like to have been stationed on a warship when the first women dared to bravely go where no other women had gone before.
I’m not so certain I would have had their courage.
If you like this short story, you just may like The Sea Trials of an Unfortunate Sailor. Set on a warship stationed at a United States navy base in Yokosuka, Japan, it is a novel about the harsh realities of life on board a warship during the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell era.
Thank you and I hope you enjoy the tale.
GIVEAWAY WILL END MIDNIGHT TONIGHT (PACIFIC)
(3:00AM 8 OCTOBER 14 EASTERN)
Ending time is an approximate
AMAZON WORLDWIDE CLICK HERE
AMAZON UNITED STATES CLICK HERE
Filed under: Publishing, Short Stories Tagged: Amazon, authors, books, fiction, giveaways, Indie, Indie Authors, indie publishing, Kindle, publishing, short stories, writers, writing
October 6, 2014
Sick
It was one of those sicks — one where the head didn’t just throb, it felt as if it were being pummeled, as if it were being brutally, sadistically pounded upon, as if it were the floor for a step dancing competition and all the teams, maybe two hundred of them, were passionately, madly, dancing at once for the grand finale showcase where the winners had already been picked and now the dancing was just for showing off in the last-ditch aspiration that they could interest some unseen reality dancing show talent scout who just may be hiding in the crowd. It was one where the eyes gave up all hope of focus; one where the covers meant nothing to the chills. The slightest movement became a revolt of hurt; an aching anarchic rebellion of agony. He was so sick and had been for so long that his bed had become a form-fitting, tempurpedically molded permanent place of residence, of restlessness. The distance between the bed and the toilet a Sahara Desert of certain atrophied exhaustion.
But as sick as he was, it meant nothing really, at least nothing new. He was always sick. Just as the racking of one infection waned, the racking of a new one waxed. He was sick and sick was he. Sick was his no longer new norm; his way of living (so to speak). For him to not be sick was, well…sick.
And there was no hope that his sick would ever tire of making him sick. He went to bed each night sick, knowing without no longer ever thinking that he would wake up in the morning sick, if not sicker.
Sick was both his is and his mortal will be.
Death would be his healing.
But some days were better than others. Some days the pounding would subside enough to where he could hear over the blood erupting in his ears. On those days he liked to reflect and mentally compose verse.
Haiku, mostly.
He liked haiku because he got to work out his brain both philosophically (at least his haiku were deep in his pained yet hopelessly pretentious mind) and mathematically with the whole 5/7/5 thing.
During his last Day of Haiku — a moon or two ago maybe…he couldn’t remember exactly when — he came up with a good one; at least it was one that he has since used to dwell upon during his brief moments of lucidity, when the pain ebbs just enough for reflection, but not enough for composition…
leaves obscure the path
pilgrims lost along the way
Buddha seems to smile
But today wasn’t one of those days, one of those haiku days, that is; today was one of those days, one of those sicker than sick days. One of those days of constant hurt. A day of pure, unadulterated and relentless pain.
They say that pain is God’s way of reminding us of all the good reasons for living.
Whenever he thought of that, whenever he could think through the pain, he had to laugh.
And even if it did set off a new revolt of hurt and ache, at least there was that.
Laughter.
Pained laughter.
Which is always better than pained crying.
Filed under: Flash Fiction Tagged: Buddha, fiction, flash fiction, God, haiku, health, hope, illness, pain, short stories, sick, step dancing, writing, 俳句
Remember the Nineties…
Back when both music AND movies were awesome.
I saw an oh-so-true meme (or whatever those little poster-thingies are that mostly gush with quirky sayings…and cats) bouncing around the internet the other day that said something to the effect:
I still think the Nineties were a decade ago
What the heck?
And they aren’t?
Anyway…
It was the Cranberries.
The group just popped into my head a couple of minutes ago for whatever reason and got me to thinking about all this Nineties stuff.
They were there – killing it – and then they were gone.
I remember they broke up over something as seriously silly (and a bit redundant when put into the context of this sentence) as a break up…
Something like the lead singer’s boyfriend dumped her and she became unraveled?
I guess I could active the google side of my brain for the real truth.
But I’m more content with the less-accurate but comfortably fuzzy memories right now.
Anyway, here’s one of their hits from, oh I don’t know, a year or two ago maybe…
Filed under: Culture, Life Tagged: cats, culture, life, memes, memories, movies, music, Nineties, nostalgia, The Cranberries
