Jim Hodgson's Blog, page 11

Lammergeier, Condor, Downforce, a 24 Hours of Lemons Race Report

I beheld the great Lammergeier at the roof of Africa, the mists swirling at his the tip of his ten foot wingspan like the revolving Earth. Yes, and I have trekked the great Andean peaks to the nest of the Condor, who cast me down with thunder and avalanche from his beating wings. As my bones knit, my tongue swollen from the thirst, I hovered near death, and the muleteers heard me croak but a single word: downforce, downforce, downforce.

Come we now to the Carolinas, to 24 Hours of Lemons at Carolina Motorsports Park, with Our Lady of Perpetual Downforce and her hellspawn antithesis, the Turbo Schnitzel, which, despite its moniker, hath neither turbo nor schnitzel. More’s the pity.

I took the green flag at the wheel of the Schnitzel, and then promptly spun it off the track on the third lap. A stern talking-to then ensued, and the team was peeved. But they cheered up somewhat, because at the Pavilion of the Stern Talkings To there was free WiFi. And there was moderate rejoicing.

Meghann took the green in Our Lady, and did not spin. Our Lady does not spin … except in the rare case that Acolyte Kevin be at the wheel, for he is singularly talented thus.

But just as the Lammergeier drops the bones of its prey from a great height onto rocks so that it can prize at the marrow within, Our Lady plucked at the sweet innards of her gears and could be driven no more. Meghann and Brian began pulling the motor so that a new transmission could be bolted on.

Meanwhile, the Schnitzel continued to circulate, but suffered not only from my driving, but from a faithless, twisted turd of an ignition coil. Once that was found and replaced, the Schnitzel returned to the track.

But the wrenching and banging on Our Lady continued.

The sun left us then, which was good because it was hotter than the devils own anus and the Faithful of the Church of Downforce were sweaty, tired, and pissed off.

But Our Lady of Perpetual Downforce loves and provides for her faithful. In the absence of the sun’s oppressive heat, she sent barbecue. Now the rejoicing was pronounced, and we were welcomed to the feast, because we had with us Meghann’s mighty collard greens, which were placed alongside the barbecue for all to enjoy.

Back at the paddock, there was more wrenching.

Truly, it was like a house, not for man, woman, or child, but for beasts. A sort of Beast House, I guess you could call it.

The next morning dawned clear and pregnant with promise, its teats dripping with dew. Some of our drivers dripped as well, but that was because they had spilled a bit of Mountain Dew on their racing frocks.

As I snapped this photo, a man said that I owed him five dollars for the taking of it. But I said “Nay!” in a loud, clear voice, and he did back away, for he knew then that he was dealing with a buffoon.

The Schnitzel began again to circulate, and climbed mightily in the rankings, passing many cars which had voided their bowels the day previous and never recovered. I had the pleasure of taking the checkered flag in the Schnitzel, and as the onlookers clapped for me, I did impress them by letting the revs drop too low, thus causing the Schnitzel to sputter and expire.

It got better for the Schitzel. But Our Lady remained motionless, transmissionless — and, despite great wailing and gnashing of wrenches — downforceless. O, the shame. Damn the heavens and let the seas rise! Alack and alas!

Perhaps we should have let someone whew knew what they were doing rebuild that transmission! Ah, well.

Perhaps someday we, the Faithful, the Worshippers of Our Lady of Perpetual Downforce, can clutch one of these trophies in our base human claws, hold it to the heavens and scream, “Downforce!”

Until that day, we will come again. We will race anew. And so, we pray:

Our Lady of Perpetual Downforce,

Hallowed be thy name.

Thy apex come, braking be done,

In worship we accelerate.

Give us this day our daily laps,

And forgive us our offs,

As we forgive the offs of others.

Lead us not into oversteer,

But deliver us from understeer.

For thine is the grip, the power, and the downforce.

For ever and ever.

Amen.

Sunday I will do things. Atlanta Explained & Streets Alive!

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=cYwVEwqTv2g

 

More about Atlanta Explained: http://www.atlbanana.com/atlanta-explained/

More about Streets Alive: http://www.atlantastreetsalive.com/highland

Interbike Wrapup: Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Bikes

I would say that Vegas is a joke as soon as you land, but this year it began before I even departed ATL. I watched a TSA security officer place one of my bike pedals up to his eye as though he intended to use it as a miniature spyglass on the deck of a sailing ship.

“Any lubricants on this thing that I need to know about?” he asked. What does this gentleman think I am doing with my bike pedals?

The joy of air travel continued in the air thanks to Delta’s casual attitude toward adding value. Our 757 was not equipped with the air vents known in airline parlance as “gaspers.” Those little nozzles you expect to see above your seat that you can use to direct air at your slightly tacky and reddened face? Gaspers. And we had none.

I turned the bezel on the lights pictured below, hoping that they might somehow produce a stream of air in addition to light. Nope.

Delta have removed everything that used to be included with air travel and are cranking up the prices on the shriveled simulacrum. It’s like selling a slice of beef so thin you couldn’t even use it as sunglasses and calling it a pastrami on rye.

On the Ground

We were obliged to take a cab even though the Mandalay Bay convention center is directly across the street from the airport. Las Vegas knows its customer America, and there’s nothing America wants to do less than walk somewhere, except, possibly, for “learn something.”

As the cab driver zoomed onto the Interstate, he mumbled “Miniva tay ginnerstate?” to which my traveling companion and publisher Jeff responded, “Huh?” and then, “Uh, yeah whatever.” Looking at a map now, I realize the cab driver did this because it’s over twice as far as taking the surface streets: 6.7 miles via interstate versus 2.5 for the streets.

Ah, fabulous Las Vegas. But at least there would be bicycles.

I love Interbike

Interbike is just the best. So much of our lives, as cyclists, is spent being maligned or marginalized, it’s good to be around our own peculiar kind. And the show floor is massive, cavernous, gargantuan. Everything that anyone could possibly consider to be bicycle related is there.

For me, the fun started at Outdoor Demo. I rode a bunch of bikes in the desert. Links go to Singletracks.com under whose aegis I Interbiked:

The Great Wizardry of the Fuji Auric One.1
Turning Lead into Gold on the Alchemy Oros
Honk honk it’s the Reeb Donkadonk
The Pivot Mach 429 trail (not yet published as of this writing)

Flag Operations

In the media tent, a gentleman handed me a blue flag to affix to my show credentials. Though the show pass identified me as “Working Media,” the blue flag said “MEDIA” even louder. And it was pale robin egg blue. I put it on the bottom of my pass and felt quite distinguished.

When my colleagues from Singletracks, Publisher Jeff, Editor Greg, and Aaron Aaron, laid eyes on my credentials festooned with pale robin egg blue “MEDIA” flag, they became wild with jealousy, and rightly so. They demanded to know where I’d gotten mine. Reluctantly, I shared information with them on how to get a “MEDIA” flag: ask the older gentleman yonder.

But I had the last laugh on the “MEDIA” flag score, damn their hides.

Whatcha know bout these three media flags and two lanyards, fools? Not one iota, that’s what.

The Show Proper

On the show floor I saw many wonders. This is Bradley Wiggins’s hour record track bike — also known as “Wiggo’s Rig-o” — which he rode to Jens Voigt’s house, shouting obscene taunts and making rude gestures all the while.

I also wore a pair of rechargeable electric sunglasses that change how dark they are with the push of a button. They reminded me of the “Peril Sensitive Sunglasses” from Douglas Adams’s Restaurant at the End of the Universe:

The Joo Janta 200 Super-Chromatic Peril Sensitive Sunglasses have been designed to help people develop a relaxed attitude to danger. They work by turning completely dark at the first sign of danger, thus preventing you from seeing anything that might alarm you.

I mentioned the reference above to the gentleman who demonstrated the glasses for me and he said “Mm!”

The Restaurant at the Middle of the Show Floor

I have been logging all the food I eat as a health management initiative. I also remind myself daily that gravy is not a beverage. Along these lines, I made a personal vow not to hover around the Clif Bar booth gobbling up the free food.

But then I got behind, and only had a few minutes for lunch, so I ended up there anyway. The booth employees were nice about it. One gentleman agreed to pretend I was only just coming by for the first time.

Sadly, though, there were also heartbreaks at Interbike. I have been tracking the movements of the LOOK bicycling company from France and their mountainous offerings in hopes of getting to ride one of their bikes. But they don’t seem to make bikes in Large and I cannot possibly ride a Medium with these long graceful stems of mine.

I guess it was not meant to be, LOOK 927. Je t’aime!

There were also many peculiarities, like this bike’s handlebars, which appear to be reacting in fright to something they’ve just witnessed in the front tire area of the bike to which they’re affixed. There is no need to be upset, handlebars.

And then there was this saddle, which I presume is being stress tested for the volume of butt sweat a full sized human such as myself can produce. They need to crank it up a bit if they want to get on my level, though. A fire hose should do it.

All in all, I loved Interbike. Las Vegas I can take or leave, but as long as they’ve got a massive indoor area packed pedal-to-chainstay with bikes, I’m willing to overlook its eccentricities. After all, I have a few of my own.

My DragonCon and Decatur Book Fest Wrapup

I got Attending Professional entry into DragonCon by asking for a high five.

In the grand pageant of DragonCon authors, artists, and celebrities, I’m . . . well, let’s say I’m still building my audience. I applied anyway. Why not? I wrote a science fiction novel. I’ve just finished a fantasy series. I know who the hairy weirdos in the red underpants and crossed suspenders are.

At the end of my application, in the special requests box, where actual famous people are allowed to put outlandish demands, I put “At some point during the weekend, I would like one (1) high five from Dragon Con staff.” A few months later, I heard from the programming director, who said I was accepted on the strength of that request. Score.

I learned that trick from my buddy Bob. He requests high fives from hotel staff via their online registration forms. The front desk is asked to administer them, and, he reports, usually does.

Day One: The Dark Horse

I was scheduled for a single DragonCon panel, on Friday afternoon, for which I arrived early. I picked up my credentials and this red folder containing all the information about my panel schedule.

I feel bad that they used a whole folder and piece of paper for that, but I’m pleased that they felt me worthy of same.

After a bit of preparation at the Hyatt lobby bar with my buddy Curzio, we proceeded to the meeting room. The panel moderator had my name on her list, but didn’t have a cool printed placard for me. Here’s the cool printed placard of Milton Davis, who was on the panel before mine.

Since they didn’t have one for me, they just flipped Mr. Davis’s placard over and wrote my name on the back. I put quotes around “Jim” because I thought it might be amusing.

But then I realized that no one knows — or, let’s be honest, cares — who I am. I could put anything I wanted on the placard. Anything at all! I had complete freedom! Literally carte blanche!

PHOTO: Christopher Curzio

The panel got underway. Our moderator handed out gag nose-and-glasses to the panelists and some members of the attending public. I immediately ran afoul of the moderator by calling attention to what I called the “Hitlery-ness” of the mustache attached to said glasses. But, I mean, come on:

Once underway, fellow panelist Peter David drew my ire by espousing the belief that people are either funny or not. Ah, that old chestnut. I called him out on it, pointed out that it was like saying people were either strong or not. I went into one of my favorite rants about the danger of the idea of “talent,” which is a word people use to discount others’ hard work and excuse their own lack thereof.

Then I realized I was ranting, pumped the brakes, and offered sexual congress to third panelist Keith R.A. DeCandido instead, who lamented my lack of discretion . . . but did not say no.

Day Two: Open Mouth, Insert Foot

Day Two of Dragon Con began with the parade, which started inauspiciously.

It got a lot better from there. Afterward, I ate some lunch with friends Mike and Mellie, then joined them at a packed-to-the-rafters panel about an upcoming manned mission to Europa. The panel was terribly interesting to me, but the room was also quite warm, and I was sitting down, so I began to doze off. I realized I was occupying a seat much better left to someone who could appreciate it, and so I excused myself.

That left me at loose ends until Mike and Mellie were let out, so I traveled across the hotels to catch the tail end of Chuck Wending reading his new novel Zer0es (lol, same WordPress theme).

I’ve tweeted with Chuck before about his Mookie Pearl series, and I’m nearly finished with his Heartland trilogy, which features a class of people called the “Empyrean,” but when I shook his hand I told him I’d been reading his “hyperion” trilogy. Oops. That’s not a thing.

Day Three: Book Fest Forgetfulness

Sweetie and the kids and I rolled down to the Decatur Book Fest on Sunday so that I could display, and ideally sell, some books at the Atlanta Writer’s Club tent. I thought it was odd that no one was around at 10:30AM since my signing was supposed to begin at 11:00. I checked the information sheet I’d been given and realized I was indeed supposed to be there at 11:00AM … on Saturday. Not Sunday.

I sent off an apology email, then explained in person what a colossal idiot I am to the people in charge of said tent. They said it was no big deal and that I could set up my wares anyway. So I did.

I stood there for an hour or so next to fellow AWC member pet expert Tim Link, who is awesome. He’s a dog and cat expert. Both his books have dogs on them. I saw dozens of people stop in their tracks as they passed to pick up his books and talk to him. I heard him give a litany of pet advice for free and he sold a book too.

Two people picked up my book Dangerous Dan, but I couldn’t offer them any advice besides, “Write non fiction and put a dog on the cover.”

But lo, who should I see striding up the street but Chuck Wendig? I flagged him down and said I felt like an ass for misnaming his work. He accepted my apology for being a buffoon, and we chatted a bit.

I and my crew wrapped up the weekend with a lunch at Chai Pani, which was delicious, then crossed the street to inspect the free library outside Dancing Goats coffee. I wanted to see if the copy of Dangerous Dan I put in there on my Little Free Library book tour was still inside, but it wasn’t.

Someone might be reading it. So I got that going for me, which is nice.

How to use Scrivener to Organize a Serial Novel

I envisioned Ten Thousand Gods, originally, as a single novel. But I know how much consumers love a series, as evidenced by the current spate of superhero movies, if not John Sandford’s oeuvre. I thought I might like to try writing a series, and 10KGods was a big enough idea to accommodate such a thing.

Having just finished Hearts Racing, though, and having experienced a taste of life with a traditional publisher, I thought I might also like to go back to self publishing. I don’t mean to say that one is better than the other, there just a nice king-in-the-castle feeling to having 100% control.

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIDHFbjQ93A

 

I’m more excited by the idea of a serial novel, meant from the beginning to be a serial, than I am by the prospect of writing novels in a series with no planned conclusion.

Okay, great. But how to organize it? I’m a great fan of Scrivener, writing software from Literature and Latte. I downloaded it at first as a reaction to how truly terrible MS Word is, but now I love Scrivener on its own inestimable merit.

I’m a forgetful person, so Scrivener’s character sheets and other organizational whatnots are a great help to me. I also like the project targets window. I hold myself to a 2,000 word requirement for a work day when I have a fiction project in progress. That doesn’t count magazine writing, blogging, etc. that I typically do in the afternoon.

As you can see, the project targets pane shows me the overall project target, plus the session target. It’s just the best. Managing this kind of thing in Word was a tremendous pain in the butt.

As you can see here, I haven’t done any writing on Ten Thousand Gods today, because it’s already off to Garrett for editing. Here it shows that I’m over the target word count I set for each episode of Ten Thousand Gods: 20,000 words.

The problem I had, though, was when I started the second episode, the tracker kept counting the words in the project. So, I started a second Scrivener project for the second episode, and all was well. That’s not ideal, though, because it means any character or setting sheets I make in any episode are not available across all episodes.

But lo, I discovered that by moving folders with completed episodes in them outside the “compile group,” designated by the sheaf of papers there next to the “10K Gods,” I could have one file for all six episodes, working word count pane, plus all my research and character stuff in one place. Heaven!

Here’s what my Scrivener project looks like now, with episodes 1-5 still in the Binder, but dragged outside the compile group.

If you’re writing anything seriously, I highly recommend Scrivener. I’ve purchased two versions, for Mac and PC, which I have synced using Dropbox and backed up nightly also. I’m a little paranoid about lost work. Scrivener also does some automatic backup making, which I haven’t had to use yet.

On Writer’s Block

I had a terrible case of writer’s block once. I went to see a doctor. I explained what writer’s block is.

I am a writer, I told him, but I cannot write. When I sit down at the computer, nothing comes out.

“Oh yes?” he said. “That does sound bad. You want to work, but you just can’t make yourself do it.” The last two words trailed out softly, faded like the last wisps of a dying fire. He leaned back on his wheeled stool and gazed up at the fluorescents until his back rested against the wall. That caused the stool to roll out, so he just laid down on the floor with his knees bent.

Eventually I just wandered out, got in my car, and came home. That doctor never did give me a diagnosis of any kind.

I will present a panel at DragonCon

Paneling at MidSouthCon, Photo: Sean Grigsby

I will make the paneling with Peter David and Keith R.A DeCandido at DragonCon on Friday, Sept 4th at 5:30 PM. So much panel!

Here’s a little more about the two gentlemen with whom I will make said panel:

Peter David is a prolific author whose career, and continued popularity, spans nearly two decades. He has worked in every conceivable media: Television, film, books (fiction, non-fiction and audio), short stories, and comic books, and acquired followings in all of them.

Keith R.A. DeCandido calls himself “the painfully retro web site of author, editor, anthologist, musician, curator, blogger, and all-around hoopy frood.”

Looking forward to hanging out with you and talking humor in fiction, gentlemen!

Everyone else, come to the panel and see how we get on. And then have a cocktail with me afterward as I look for people cosplaying as Futurama characters so that I may applaud them and shout encouragement.

Related show



Artist:
Jim Hodgson


Date:
09/04/15


Time:
5:30pm



Venue:
DragonCon



City:
Atlanta


Country:
United States



Age restrictions:
All Ages







Notes:
“Two Aliens Walk Into a Bar: Humor in Science Fiction” In Hyatt Embassy A-B.


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First Look: Ten Thousand Gods Cover Art by Bear Roberts

I met my buddy Bear Roberts back when I was a working musician, sloping around paint-peeling corridors with my too-wordy songs. Like a good friend would, Bear came to my shows and clapped. I’ll never forget that, even if I’ve already forgotten the ends of those evenings.

There is much to like about Bear. Among other things, he often refers to himself in the third person, e.g. “I think it’s about bed time for old Bear,” or “I think that’ll do fine for Bear.” If you have time and are near Asheville, NC, I recommend you find a way to hang around him and his work. Both are exceptional.

Ask him how he came to be named Bear. He may tell you. He may not.

The Call of the Bear

As you know, if you’re familiar with my work, Bear supplied the art for How To Mount Aconcagua, which I love, and which I believe is chiefly responsible for that book’s rise to the pinnacle of its minuscule niche.

So, when I started getting close to the end of the first draft of Ten Thousand Gods, I knew I needed to once again reach into the Appalachians and summon the great Ursus himself. After annoying him with many a question and revision, we’re nearing the final imagery.

I present the mostly probably final version of the cover art for Ten Thousand Gods Season One, Episode One by the inimitable Bear Roberts, a great American.

I’ll sign and sell books at Decatur Book Fest

I will be signing books at the Atlanta Writer’s Club tent within the Decatur Book Fest on Saturday, Sept 5th, 11am. My usual signing policy will be in effect: I’ll sign any book, not just mine, and any name. Want a poorly-drawn forgery of Kurt Vonnegut’s signature on your copy of 50 Shades? I’m your man.

And if you’d like to purchase a copy of Dangerous Dan, How to Mount Aconcagua, or a coupon for Hearts Racing, those can all be had as well.

Thanks to all those who came to see me speak at Decatur Book Fest last year. If you missed it, a recording of the speech I gave is here.

Related show



Artist:
Jim Hodgson


Date:
09/27/15


Time:
5:00pm



Venue:
Decatur Book Fest



City:
Decatur


Country:
United States



Admission:
Free



Age restrictions:
All Ages





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Let Us Not Go Gentle Into That Hash Tag

Of course I want people to take writing seriously. I want them to take it so seriously that they buy all my books and lift poorly-formed passages therefrom for ill-advised tattoos. But hashtags ain’t our ambrosia.

Phoebe Maltz Bovy is, without question, a serious writer. She’s a PhD holder, has written for The Atlantic, and probably has even spoken directly to Ta-Nehesi Coates, which, as a writer, is tantamount to touching the face of God Itself. In a recent article, though, (All Work and No Pay, New Republic) the estimable Ms. Bovy laments writing not being taken seriously as a profession, and then fills up same with a report on people’s tweets.

People’s tweets!

Ms. Bovy, I’m not saying hashtag games are cheapening writing any more than bathhouse wall scribbles are cheapening art, but no one writes an article about the former with snapshots of the latter.

Journalism has changed, which is not to use the more ultimate “died.” Outlets are not in the business of informing us, they’re in the business of getting clicks, a milieu into which tweets fit nicely … but we don’t have to go gentle.

Let us not go gentle, Ms. Bovy.