Do you ever feel the need to shake things up? To shake yourself up? I've been feeling a bit that way lately. It's not boredom. I don't get bored when left to my own devices. It's more like I'm in a bit of a rut. Particularly in my imagination. I seem to be running the same scenarios over and over in my head, putting myself into the same old scenes. That doesn't bode well for writing a novel.
I’ve had such things happen to me before, usually after too long a period of sustained work that isn’t challenging to my imagination. But I’ve got a plan. Over the next few days I plan to 1) read stuff I don’t usually read, 2) listen to music I haven’t listened to in a while, 3) do some physical exercise, 4) write some stuff I don’t normally write, and 4) play. Let’s hope this knocks the cobwebs out.
How about you? What do you do when you want to recharge or realign? How do you shake yourself up?
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Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
I'm Back, again. For a Bit.
I’m back for the weekend. I’ll be making the blog rounds today. Then the grading starts again on Monday. We’re nearing the end, though. I’m looking forward to a break.
Unfortunately, plagiarism reared its head on some papers. Very, very disappointing. I covered the problem of plagiarism numerous times this semester but not everyone listened. That’s about all I’m going to say about that.
On the positive side, I got a nice surprise in the mail yesterday. It was a neat book entitled Dragons Composed, and it contains a story by me called “Dragon Lost.” The check was nice too.
The book has a great cover, with a kind of an old-timey parchment look. It’s published by Kerlak Publishing, and was assembled by James Ferris. There are 33 stories, some 330 pages. It combines the fantasy and literary genres. These are dragon stories, but unusual ones. My tale features a chess playing dragon but is more surrealism than fantasy. The specifics about the collection are about halfway down on the left side of the screen.
Here’s a taste of my piece: “The dragon came out of a distant rain that spilled like threads of taffy from concrete-gray sky to sober earth. I watched him cross the purple sage toward me, with his gleaming iridescent hide and the triple horns that stabbed from his head like accusing fingers.”
The newest Illuminata was also published. I’ve got a short essay on poetry in it. Click on Volume 7, Issue 2, April 2009 if you’re interested. The link’s at the bottom.
And for another positive, "G" over at Cedar's Mountain has a very nice review of Swords of Talera. Thanks "G!"
And now it’s off to visit my blog friends. I’ve missed you folks.
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Unfortunately, plagiarism reared its head on some papers. Very, very disappointing. I covered the problem of plagiarism numerous times this semester but not everyone listened. That’s about all I’m going to say about that.
On the positive side, I got a nice surprise in the mail yesterday. It was a neat book entitled Dragons Composed, and it contains a story by me called “Dragon Lost.” The check was nice too.
The book has a great cover, with a kind of an old-timey parchment look. It’s published by Kerlak Publishing, and was assembled by James Ferris. There are 33 stories, some 330 pages. It combines the fantasy and literary genres. These are dragon stories, but unusual ones. My tale features a chess playing dragon but is more surrealism than fantasy. The specifics about the collection are about halfway down on the left side of the screen.
Here’s a taste of my piece: “The dragon came out of a distant rain that spilled like threads of taffy from concrete-gray sky to sober earth. I watched him cross the purple sage toward me, with his gleaming iridescent hide and the triple horns that stabbed from his head like accusing fingers.”
The newest Illuminata was also published. I’ve got a short essay on poetry in it. Click on Volume 7, Issue 2, April 2009 if you’re interested. The link’s at the bottom.
And for another positive, "G" over at Cedar's Mountain has a very nice review of Swords of Talera. Thanks "G!"
And now it’s off to visit my blog friends. I’ve missed you folks.
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Monday, April 20, 2009
What I Do For a Living
Some of you are faculty type folks, or have been, and know the kinds of things a college teacher does on a day to day basis, but even among faculty members there is a wide range of duties. We don't all do the same thing. Also, although I've mentioned my job here quite a bit, I've never really taken you through a blow by blow account of my version of academic life. Here's the nutshell version.
Normal faculty load at Xavier is four courses a week with at least three different "preps," meaning different courses. I only teach three courses (3 preps) a week because I have "release" time for a committee I'm the head of. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I have two classes of 50 minutes each. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I have one class that lasts 1 hour and 15 minutes. That's not a lot of hours in the actual classroom, but there are quite a few additional hours involved in preparing for class, going over notes, doing background reading, preparing examples or demonstrations, etc. And there is a lot of time spent grading student papers, although that isn't usually an everyday thing.
Most bigger universities require two classes, 2 preps a week, but they also generally require a greater amount of orginal research productivity. This is where that famous dictum of, "publish or perish" comes in. At big universities, Ohio State, Stanford, Yale, etc, this is the rule and most faculty put a lot of time in on research and correspondingly less time on teaching. At Xavier the rule is more "publish or languish." You have to publish some to get tenure, but you don't necessarily have to publish on a regular basis, and the university is a little more general in what it considers scholarship. Still, unless you publish within your "field" fairly regularly, you are unlikely to receive promotions or merit raises. For me, this means that the nonfiction articles I do on writing and writers do not generally count. Only articles published in psychology count, and preferably articles in peer-reviewed journals on the subject of biological psychology. Peer-reviewed means that experts in the field review submitted articles and judge them acceptable, unacceptable, or in need of revision.
Besides teaching and scholarship, faculty members also must engage in "university service." This means either being chairperson of a department, or, most commonly, serving on university committees. Some committees are so time consuming that faculty actually get some release time from teaching to manage those committees. At Xavier, the Rank and Tenure Committee, which decides on tenure for faculty, is such a committee. I'm also chair of the Human Subjects committee (IRB), and I get a one class teaching reduction because of how time consumming it is.
Today was a pretty typical Monday for me. I got into the office around 8:20, and first responded to emails. There weren't many this morning but sometimes there are a lot. I then made some calls concerning IRB issues to Xavier's research supervisor, and picked up a 70 some odd page IRB proposal from a researcher at Boston College that had been mailed to me. I took 15 minutes to prepare for my first class, at 10:00, in the Psychology of Learning. Sometimes it takes me a lot longer to prepare but the topic for today is one I know very well. Lunch ran between 11:20 and 12:15/12:20 and I came back to prepare for my 1:00 class. This was again lighter than usual because we were getting ready for final exams and most of my class today was reviewing.
I picked up 26 assigned essays from the 1:00 class, which is called Historical and Applied Perspectives, and will grade those as soon as I finish this post. Then I'll start on the IRB proposal. I'm unlikely to finish going through that by the time I leave around 4:30, so I'll be working on that tonight and possibly some tomorrow.
A major difference I see between an academic job and most other jobs I've held (Dishwasher, Librarian Floor Supervisor, Chicken House Manager, Factory Worker) is the "feast or famine aspect. There will be weeks here and there where I'll have little grading to do, no IRB projects to approve, and no committee meetings. Those weeks are nice and it's then that I write most of my nonfiction and fiction. Other weeks are feast, in the sense of having a lot to do in every aspect of my job: reseearch, teaching/grading, and committee work.
I'm entering one of those "feast" times now. I'm getting final papers from my writing class tomorrow, giving a big exam on Wednesday, and giving two big exams next Monday. Just to let you know, I probably won't be posting much on my own blog, or visiting others' blogs after today. I'll be back once most of that grading is done.
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Normal faculty load at Xavier is four courses a week with at least three different "preps," meaning different courses. I only teach three courses (3 preps) a week because I have "release" time for a committee I'm the head of. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I have two classes of 50 minutes each. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I have one class that lasts 1 hour and 15 minutes. That's not a lot of hours in the actual classroom, but there are quite a few additional hours involved in preparing for class, going over notes, doing background reading, preparing examples or demonstrations, etc. And there is a lot of time spent grading student papers, although that isn't usually an everyday thing.
Most bigger universities require two classes, 2 preps a week, but they also generally require a greater amount of orginal research productivity. This is where that famous dictum of, "publish or perish" comes in. At big universities, Ohio State, Stanford, Yale, etc, this is the rule and most faculty put a lot of time in on research and correspondingly less time on teaching. At Xavier the rule is more "publish or languish." You have to publish some to get tenure, but you don't necessarily have to publish on a regular basis, and the university is a little more general in what it considers scholarship. Still, unless you publish within your "field" fairly regularly, you are unlikely to receive promotions or merit raises. For me, this means that the nonfiction articles I do on writing and writers do not generally count. Only articles published in psychology count, and preferably articles in peer-reviewed journals on the subject of biological psychology. Peer-reviewed means that experts in the field review submitted articles and judge them acceptable, unacceptable, or in need of revision.
Besides teaching and scholarship, faculty members also must engage in "university service." This means either being chairperson of a department, or, most commonly, serving on university committees. Some committees are so time consuming that faculty actually get some release time from teaching to manage those committees. At Xavier, the Rank and Tenure Committee, which decides on tenure for faculty, is such a committee. I'm also chair of the Human Subjects committee (IRB), and I get a one class teaching reduction because of how time consumming it is.
Today was a pretty typical Monday for me. I got into the office around 8:20, and first responded to emails. There weren't many this morning but sometimes there are a lot. I then made some calls concerning IRB issues to Xavier's research supervisor, and picked up a 70 some odd page IRB proposal from a researcher at Boston College that had been mailed to me. I took 15 minutes to prepare for my first class, at 10:00, in the Psychology of Learning. Sometimes it takes me a lot longer to prepare but the topic for today is one I know very well. Lunch ran between 11:20 and 12:15/12:20 and I came back to prepare for my 1:00 class. This was again lighter than usual because we were getting ready for final exams and most of my class today was reviewing.
I picked up 26 assigned essays from the 1:00 class, which is called Historical and Applied Perspectives, and will grade those as soon as I finish this post. Then I'll start on the IRB proposal. I'm unlikely to finish going through that by the time I leave around 4:30, so I'll be working on that tonight and possibly some tomorrow.
A major difference I see between an academic job and most other jobs I've held (Dishwasher, Librarian Floor Supervisor, Chicken House Manager, Factory Worker) is the "feast or famine aspect. There will be weeks here and there where I'll have little grading to do, no IRB projects to approve, and no committee meetings. Those weeks are nice and it's then that I write most of my nonfiction and fiction. Other weeks are feast, in the sense of having a lot to do in every aspect of my job: reseearch, teaching/grading, and committee work.
I'm entering one of those "feast" times now. I'm getting final papers from my writing class tomorrow, giving a big exam on Wednesday, and giving two big exams next Monday. Just to let you know, I probably won't be posting much on my own blog, or visiting others' blogs after today. I'll be back once most of that grading is done.
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Friday, April 17, 2009
Fan Fiction
OK, I’ve been getting an education since I posted my “Ich bin ein Trekker” piece. I knew there was fan fiction out there, and that there was a lot based on Star Trek, although I’ve never read any of the Trek zines where this kind of thing has been typically published. I’ve certainly read professionally published stories by folks who began their writing lives as Trekkers and I’ve always known some of their story lines came from their own fan fiction.
I also knew that other TV shows had their own fan fic, including Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Stargate SG-1, and I found out a few years ago about the beginnings of fan fic in the Harry Potter universe. I was also aware that certain characters, most notably in my experience, Conan the Cimmerian, Tarzan, and Sherlock Holmes had been the subject of many pastiche stories in small fanzines.
There were a number of things I did not know. First, I had no idea of the “extent” of the fan fiction that has been and is being published for all kinds of shows and characters. By Crom, but it is huge! Second, I had no idea that the “vast” majority of fan fic written for TV shows is written by women. It seems to be different where pastiche stories about characters in books are concerned; many of those writers, perhaps most, appear to be men. Third, I had never heard of “Kraith,” which is a whole subgenre of Star Trek Fan fiction set in a related but not quite canonical Trek Universe. It focuses on the Vulcans, and at least one story has Spock administering a sound spanking to Kirk. Fourth, until two days ago I had “never” heard the word slash associated with fan fiction and had no idea what it meant. I had heard, many years ago, that a story or two had been written about Kirk and Spock as gay lovers. It is apparently a LOT more than a couple of stories. (The name “slash” comes from the way in which “Kirk/Spock” is often written when referring to these stories.)
When I first heard about the Kirk/Spock stories I assumed they were written by gay men who were Star Trek or SF fans. Turns out the vast majority of these stories are also written by women, primarily heterosexual women. I have to say that confuses me a bit, although I’ve become aware in the last few years that there is a pretty big market for male on male erotica and that most of it is written by women for women. As a psychologist, I find that rather fascinating, although I can’t quite come up with a theory as to why it occurs. I would welcome input.
As for fan fic, I’d also be interested in hearing from folks who write it as to why they enjoy it. I can certainly understand the enjoyment of taking part in a kind of imaginative game using established characters in an established universe. I’ve imagined myself in the universe of Star Trek myself, although I never had much urge to write those stories down.
I’ve never written fan fic myself, although I once rough drafted a Conan pastiche for the REHupa group that I’m in. I think, in my case, it has most to do with the fact that I really like to have complete control over the creative aspects of writing myself. I don’t want to be constrained by someone else’s imagination, although I’m not above borrowing the good stuff.
Anyway, thanks to those who have helped educate me on fan fic over the last few days, and thanks to Wikipedia for the help in discovering more about Kraith and Slash fiction. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all, and I’m desperately trying not to imagine Kirk over Spock’s knee with his pants down for a spanking.
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I also knew that other TV shows had their own fan fic, including Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Stargate SG-1, and I found out a few years ago about the beginnings of fan fic in the Harry Potter universe. I was also aware that certain characters, most notably in my experience, Conan the Cimmerian, Tarzan, and Sherlock Holmes had been the subject of many pastiche stories in small fanzines.
There were a number of things I did not know. First, I had no idea of the “extent” of the fan fiction that has been and is being published for all kinds of shows and characters. By Crom, but it is huge! Second, I had no idea that the “vast” majority of fan fic written for TV shows is written by women. It seems to be different where pastiche stories about characters in books are concerned; many of those writers, perhaps most, appear to be men. Third, I had never heard of “Kraith,” which is a whole subgenre of Star Trek Fan fiction set in a related but not quite canonical Trek Universe. It focuses on the Vulcans, and at least one story has Spock administering a sound spanking to Kirk. Fourth, until two days ago I had “never” heard the word slash associated with fan fiction and had no idea what it meant. I had heard, many years ago, that a story or two had been written about Kirk and Spock as gay lovers. It is apparently a LOT more than a couple of stories. (The name “slash” comes from the way in which “Kirk/Spock” is often written when referring to these stories.)
When I first heard about the Kirk/Spock stories I assumed they were written by gay men who were Star Trek or SF fans. Turns out the vast majority of these stories are also written by women, primarily heterosexual women. I have to say that confuses me a bit, although I’ve become aware in the last few years that there is a pretty big market for male on male erotica and that most of it is written by women for women. As a psychologist, I find that rather fascinating, although I can’t quite come up with a theory as to why it occurs. I would welcome input.
As for fan fic, I’d also be interested in hearing from folks who write it as to why they enjoy it. I can certainly understand the enjoyment of taking part in a kind of imaginative game using established characters in an established universe. I’ve imagined myself in the universe of Star Trek myself, although I never had much urge to write those stories down.
I’ve never written fan fic myself, although I once rough drafted a Conan pastiche for the REHupa group that I’m in. I think, in my case, it has most to do with the fact that I really like to have complete control over the creative aspects of writing myself. I don’t want to be constrained by someone else’s imagination, although I’m not above borrowing the good stuff.
Anyway, thanks to those who have helped educate me on fan fic over the last few days, and thanks to Wikipedia for the help in discovering more about Kraith and Slash fiction. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all, and I’m desperately trying not to imagine Kirk over Spock’s knee with his pants down for a spanking.
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Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Book Roast: Cold in the Light
I forgot to mention that the Book Roast is going on all this week. That means a chance to win free books, as well as have some fun answering strange questions and feeling free to make off-the-wall remarks. So check it out.
And, especially, please check it out tomorrow, Thursday, April 16. I’ll be the grillee, or grilled, or whatever it’s called, and there’ll be a chance win a copy of Cold in the Light. Even if you have a copy drop by for a visit. I’ll be popping in and out all day to answer questions and respond to comments, which means most of my blogging tomorrow will be over there.
Chris Eldin and the Book Roast crew have done a wonderful job with this project, and I know it's been a lot of work for them. They grilled Swords of Talera back when it came out so they have also been very, very good to me.
Yeah Book Roast!
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And, especially, please check it out tomorrow, Thursday, April 16. I’ll be the grillee, or grilled, or whatever it’s called, and there’ll be a chance win a copy of Cold in the Light. Even if you have a copy drop by for a visit. I’ll be popping in and out all day to answer questions and respond to comments, which means most of my blogging tomorrow will be over there.
Chris Eldin and the Book Roast crew have done a wonderful job with this project, and I know it's been a lot of work for them. They grilled Swords of Talera back when it came out so they have also been very, very good to me.
Yeah Book Roast!
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Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Ich Bin Ein Trekker
"Trekker!" That's Trekkie to some.
Star Trek, with the original crew, remains one of the very few--perhaps only--TV show that I've seen every episode of, and is certainly the only show I've seen every episode of multiple times. Star Trek: TNG is second. I have exactly two autographed photos of stars on my bookshelves. Both are for Star Trek actors. Over the years I've picked up individual tie-in novels from several TV shows, including Highlander, The Rat Patrol, Alien Nation, and Man from Atlantis. I have one volume of each, and have only read the first two. But I have and have read close to 50 tie-in books for Star Trek Classic alone, including for the animated series, and I just ordered a few more. I have never read a biography or autobiography of an actor. Not one. Except for Star Trek. I've read both Shatner's and Nimoy's biographies about their Star Trek experiences.
In fact, I've just started a Star Trek Mini reading spree. I finished Spock Must Die! by James Blish this weekend and really enjoyed it, and am now happily immersed in Star Trek Lives!, a nonfiction book about the Star Trek phenomenon, which was published in 1975. I have a couple more Trek books ready to go next. You might think it was the upcoming release of the new Star Trek movie that turned on my Star Trek button, and I'm sure that had some influence, but I've experienced such sprees before. Numerous times. I love Star Trek.
Star Trek Lives! has made me ask the question again as to why? Why is Star Trek the only TV show that I am actually a fan, in the sense of fanatic, of? The book talks about the "optimism" that infused the show, about the dynamics between the characters, about the philosophy. I'm sure all those played some role in hooking me. But I frankly am not sure exactly why this show among the many connected so strongly with me. I'm going to give it some thought and get back to you.
In the meantime, Live Long, and Prosper, and tell me why you, too, are a Trekker. And tell me: If you're not a Trekker, why not? Or are you a similar fan of some other show? I don't see how that could be, but I'll try to forgive you anyway!
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Star Trek, with the original crew, remains one of the very few--perhaps only--TV show that I've seen every episode of, and is certainly the only show I've seen every episode of multiple times. Star Trek: TNG is second. I have exactly two autographed photos of stars on my bookshelves. Both are for Star Trek actors. Over the years I've picked up individual tie-in novels from several TV shows, including Highlander, The Rat Patrol, Alien Nation, and Man from Atlantis. I have one volume of each, and have only read the first two. But I have and have read close to 50 tie-in books for Star Trek Classic alone, including for the animated series, and I just ordered a few more. I have never read a biography or autobiography of an actor. Not one. Except for Star Trek. I've read both Shatner's and Nimoy's biographies about their Star Trek experiences.
In fact, I've just started a Star Trek Mini reading spree. I finished Spock Must Die! by James Blish this weekend and really enjoyed it, and am now happily immersed in Star Trek Lives!, a nonfiction book about the Star Trek phenomenon, which was published in 1975. I have a couple more Trek books ready to go next. You might think it was the upcoming release of the new Star Trek movie that turned on my Star Trek button, and I'm sure that had some influence, but I've experienced such sprees before. Numerous times. I love Star Trek.
Star Trek Lives! has made me ask the question again as to why? Why is Star Trek the only TV show that I am actually a fan, in the sense of fanatic, of? The book talks about the "optimism" that infused the show, about the dynamics between the characters, about the philosophy. I'm sure all those played some role in hooking me. But I frankly am not sure exactly why this show among the many connected so strongly with me. I'm going to give it some thought and get back to you.
In the meantime, Live Long, and Prosper, and tell me why you, too, are a Trekker. And tell me: If you're not a Trekker, why not? Or are you a similar fan of some other show? I don't see how that could be, but I'll try to forgive you anyway!
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Sunday, April 12, 2009
Movies and the Shaky Cam
I watched a couple of movies this weekend while off for Easter: Lakeview Terrace and Quarantine. Both were sadly flawed. Lakeview Terrace had some interesting characterizations and I thought it had the makings of a pretty good movie, but it was very slow to develop. The model for this kind of urban thriller to me is Pacific Heights, and this one had nowhere near the suspense of that movie, although to be fair it didn't have as clear cut of a bad guy either.
Quarantine's flaws were of a different sort. The premise and setting were interesting, although not terribly original, and there were some cool gory sections, as when a badly injured man tries to walk on a broken leg. The problem was the shaky cam. The premise was that a TV night show crew consisting of a woman reporter and a camerman ride along with a fire crew who are called out to treat a sick woman. Once the firemen and camera crew are inside the building, along with a couple of cops, the feds lock the building down because of the disease, which seems to develop into uncontrollable rage.
Unfortunately, all we see of the events is the "camera eye," (Shaky cam) view. I suspect that someone somewhere thinks the shaky cam adds realism to a movie. The opposite is the case. Whether shaky cam or not, we all know at the beginning of a movie that we're just watching a movie. With the regular camera set up, we only have to suspend our disbelief once, and then we're into the movie. With the shaky cam we are constantly bombarded with the realization that this is only a movie, and, unfortunately, we're only seeing bits and pieces of that movie. In Quarantine, for example, I could not suspend my disbelief over and over as to the fact that a "real person" was supposed to be filming all this, and I could not get past my irritation that at times the movie I paid for consisted of running feet. Had I known it was shaky cam I'd never have rented it.
Just say "no" to shaky cam.
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Quarantine's flaws were of a different sort. The premise and setting were interesting, although not terribly original, and there were some cool gory sections, as when a badly injured man tries to walk on a broken leg. The problem was the shaky cam. The premise was that a TV night show crew consisting of a woman reporter and a camerman ride along with a fire crew who are called out to treat a sick woman. Once the firemen and camera crew are inside the building, along with a couple of cops, the feds lock the building down because of the disease, which seems to develop into uncontrollable rage.
Unfortunately, all we see of the events is the "camera eye," (Shaky cam) view. I suspect that someone somewhere thinks the shaky cam adds realism to a movie. The opposite is the case. Whether shaky cam or not, we all know at the beginning of a movie that we're just watching a movie. With the regular camera set up, we only have to suspend our disbelief once, and then we're into the movie. With the shaky cam we are constantly bombarded with the realization that this is only a movie, and, unfortunately, we're only seeing bits and pieces of that movie. In Quarantine, for example, I could not suspend my disbelief over and over as to the fact that a "real person" was supposed to be filming all this, and I could not get past my irritation that at times the movie I paid for consisted of running feet. Had I known it was shaky cam I'd never have rented it.
Just say "no" to shaky cam.
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Thursday, April 09, 2009
Forgotten Books Friday: Short story
First, I'm sorry I haven't been around visiting blogs much this week. Besides feeling a bit down, I got the rough drafts from my writing class on Tuesday and spent a LOT of time commenting on and correcting those. But here's my post for Forgotten Books Friday for this week. I'll head out to look at blogs after I get this up.
Pattinase has suggested that this week’s Forgotten Book Friday feature a forgotten short story. Since I love me some short stories, I am so happy to take part. And man was it hard to narrow down my choices. There are so many wonderful short stories that I could talk about: The Cold Equations by Tom Godwin, Surface Tension by James Blish, Nightfall by Isaac Asimov, Hangover by John D. MacDonald, The Jaunt by Stephen King, The Nine Billion Names of God by Arthur C. Clarke, Riding for the Brand by Louis L’Amour, A Relic of War by Keith Laumer, Valley of the Worm and Worms in the Earth by Robert E. Howard, etc. etc.
But I’ve decided on a story by Ray Bradbury. Bradbury has had so many incredible stories of course, The Veldt, The Fog Horn, The Golden Apples of the Sun, The Small Assassin, The Wind, and many more. But there’s one that I’ve never seen reprinted and almost never see anyone talk about. This is “Frost and Fire,” a longish story from the collection R is for Rocket, which was first published in 1962. I first read this collection sometime back in the sixties and “Frost and Fire” stayed with me for years after, although I forgot the title and the collection it was in. For several years in my late 30s I searched and searched for the story but was unable to remember the title or even who had written it until a friend of mine identified it for me. I believe that friend was Steve Tompkins. I immediately read the story again, and just reread it this week in preparation for this post.
Although it’s in an anthology whose title suggests science fiction stories, and it involves a space ship, “Frost and Fire” is very much a fantasy. Physically and technically it is an impossible tale, but it’s still wonderful for all that.
Imagine a world where humans are born, grow, mate, age, and die in 8 days. It’s a world where the sun kills and the ice at night freezes the very marrow, where for only two hours a day, at dusk and dawn, are people able to leave their caves and run and play and gather food amid the rapidly growing plants.
Imagine though, that in the distance, winking in the early morning sunlight, the people see a ship, the last intact ship from the space fleet that brought them to this nightmare planet. A child named Sim is born into this world. He is born with the racial memory of all his people, and the telepathy that lets them learn quickly what they need to know to survive. A girl named Lyte is born at the same time, and comes to love Sim. And all this happens quickly, quickly, quickly. Because death is only days away.
Sim yearns to reach that ship, although no one has ever survived such an attempt. And Lyte is determined to accompany him. I won’t tell you the ending, but the story is well worth the read if you can find it.
There was a brief revival of interest in this story in the 1980s. In 1983 it became the basis of a short film called Quest, and in 1985 it was adapted as a graphic novel by Klaus Jansen for DC comics. I have not seen the film or read the graphic novel, and didn’t even know that either existed until I started researching this post. I’ll begin looking for that graphic novel, though. “Frost and Fire” is definitely a forgotten story these days, though, and it shouldn’t be. It shows Bradbury at the height of his powers.
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Pattinase has suggested that this week’s Forgotten Book Friday feature a forgotten short story. Since I love me some short stories, I am so happy to take part. And man was it hard to narrow down my choices. There are so many wonderful short stories that I could talk about: The Cold Equations by Tom Godwin, Surface Tension by James Blish, Nightfall by Isaac Asimov, Hangover by John D. MacDonald, The Jaunt by Stephen King, The Nine Billion Names of God by Arthur C. Clarke, Riding for the Brand by Louis L’Amour, A Relic of War by Keith Laumer, Valley of the Worm and Worms in the Earth by Robert E. Howard, etc. etc.
But I’ve decided on a story by Ray Bradbury. Bradbury has had so many incredible stories of course, The Veldt, The Fog Horn, The Golden Apples of the Sun, The Small Assassin, The Wind, and many more. But there’s one that I’ve never seen reprinted and almost never see anyone talk about. This is “Frost and Fire,” a longish story from the collection R is for Rocket, which was first published in 1962. I first read this collection sometime back in the sixties and “Frost and Fire” stayed with me for years after, although I forgot the title and the collection it was in. For several years in my late 30s I searched and searched for the story but was unable to remember the title or even who had written it until a friend of mine identified it for me. I believe that friend was Steve Tompkins. I immediately read the story again, and just reread it this week in preparation for this post.
Although it’s in an anthology whose title suggests science fiction stories, and it involves a space ship, “Frost and Fire” is very much a fantasy. Physically and technically it is an impossible tale, but it’s still wonderful for all that.
Imagine a world where humans are born, grow, mate, age, and die in 8 days. It’s a world where the sun kills and the ice at night freezes the very marrow, where for only two hours a day, at dusk and dawn, are people able to leave their caves and run and play and gather food amid the rapidly growing plants.
Imagine though, that in the distance, winking in the early morning sunlight, the people see a ship, the last intact ship from the space fleet that brought them to this nightmare planet. A child named Sim is born into this world. He is born with the racial memory of all his people, and the telepathy that lets them learn quickly what they need to know to survive. A girl named Lyte is born at the same time, and comes to love Sim. And all this happens quickly, quickly, quickly. Because death is only days away.
Sim yearns to reach that ship, although no one has ever survived such an attempt. And Lyte is determined to accompany him. I won’t tell you the ending, but the story is well worth the read if you can find it.
There was a brief revival of interest in this story in the 1980s. In 1983 it became the basis of a short film called Quest, and in 1985 it was adapted as a graphic novel by Klaus Jansen for DC comics. I have not seen the film or read the graphic novel, and didn’t even know that either existed until I started researching this post. I’ll begin looking for that graphic novel, though. “Frost and Fire” is definitely a forgotten story these days, though, and it shouldn’t be. It shows Bradbury at the height of his powers.
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Sunday, April 05, 2009
Memoriam
Robert E. Howard fandom has lost two tireless supporters of late. And I’ve lost two friends.
First, Steve Tompkins died March 23rd, although I didn’t find out about it until Friday, April 3rd. Steve was in REHupa with me, the Robert E. Howard foundation. We found out from his brother that he had been admitted into the hospital after a bout with food poisoning, but then had a heart attack, which is what killed him. He had been rallying from the food poisoning when the heart attack occurred. Steve lived in New York City where he worked for The Bank of New York. His parents and three brothers are still living and I know they must miss him terribly.
I only met Steve once in person, in Cross Plains, Texas for Howard Days, but we corresponded many times over the years. Steve was the most erudite person I’ve ever known, with a prodigious memory for literary works and a wonderfully witty style of writing about literature. He single-handedly raised the level of Howard scholarship with his many essays for REHupa, as well as his blog posts and his beautifully researched introductions and/or essays for a number of recent Howard books. He will be missed by many, and I’m one of them.
Then, on Saturday, April 4, I found out that Joan McCowen had died after a year long battle with cancer. Joan was a member of Project Pride, the local Cross Plains group that bought and restored the Robert E. Howard house and turned it into a museum. She always supported Howard's Legacy, and the Howard fans who trooped through Cross Plains every year. Joan was a strong presence every time I went to Cross Plains for Howard days. She was a personable and energetic woman, although in the last year or so she had really been hit hard by her illness. She too will be missed, and everywhere I look in Cross Plains this year there will be a blank spot hiding part of the world.
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First, Steve Tompkins died March 23rd, although I didn’t find out about it until Friday, April 3rd. Steve was in REHupa with me, the Robert E. Howard foundation. We found out from his brother that he had been admitted into the hospital after a bout with food poisoning, but then had a heart attack, which is what killed him. He had been rallying from the food poisoning when the heart attack occurred. Steve lived in New York City where he worked for The Bank of New York. His parents and three brothers are still living and I know they must miss him terribly.
I only met Steve once in person, in Cross Plains, Texas for Howard Days, but we corresponded many times over the years. Steve was the most erudite person I’ve ever known, with a prodigious memory for literary works and a wonderfully witty style of writing about literature. He single-handedly raised the level of Howard scholarship with his many essays for REHupa, as well as his blog posts and his beautifully researched introductions and/or essays for a number of recent Howard books. He will be missed by many, and I’m one of them.
Then, on Saturday, April 4, I found out that Joan McCowen had died after a year long battle with cancer. Joan was a member of Project Pride, the local Cross Plains group that bought and restored the Robert E. Howard house and turned it into a museum. She always supported Howard's Legacy, and the Howard fans who trooped through Cross Plains every year. Joan was a strong presence every time I went to Cross Plains for Howard days. She was a personable and energetic woman, although in the last year or so she had really been hit hard by her illness. She too will be missed, and everywhere I look in Cross Plains this year there will be a blank spot hiding part of the world.
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Friday, April 03, 2009
My Writing Class
I haven't talked about my Writing in Psychology class as much as I thought I might this spring, but I just gave my class an assignment that I hope will turn out interesting.
I told them I wanted them to write a "tip article" directed at a novice writer. In other words, I asked them to write an advice column/essay about writing. Tell someone else what you think is an important thing, or the important thing(s), that someone new to writing should know. I hope this will really make them think about what we've covered so far this semester and about whether it was good advice or not.
I did this last time I taught this class as well, several years ago, and I got some really good pieces. I even edited two of the papers and published them in my Writer's Block column for The Illuminata. Those students were very excited to see their names in print, and those papers deserved to be there once they were given a bit of editing.
I didn't mention this to my current class, but if I get some good articles I might do the same this year. It all depends on what I get. The fact is, writing out one's thoughts remains one of the best ways to truly understand and clarify one's thinking. It also helps you learn the material better. It's why I started writing articles about writing in the first place, so that I could myself understand what was important about the act of writing. And it's why the core of ideas that I first explore here on the blog sometimes get written up more formally later for my column.
I sometimes think I don't really understand anything until I can write about it. How about you?
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I told them I wanted them to write a "tip article" directed at a novice writer. In other words, I asked them to write an advice column/essay about writing. Tell someone else what you think is an important thing, or the important thing(s), that someone new to writing should know. I hope this will really make them think about what we've covered so far this semester and about whether it was good advice or not.
I did this last time I taught this class as well, several years ago, and I got some really good pieces. I even edited two of the papers and published them in my Writer's Block column for The Illuminata. Those students were very excited to see their names in print, and those papers deserved to be there once they were given a bit of editing.
I didn't mention this to my current class, but if I get some good articles I might do the same this year. It all depends on what I get. The fact is, writing out one's thoughts remains one of the best ways to truly understand and clarify one's thinking. It also helps you learn the material better. It's why I started writing articles about writing in the first place, so that I could myself understand what was important about the act of writing. And it's why the core of ideas that I first explore here on the blog sometimes get written up more formally later for my column.
I sometimes think I don't really understand anything until I can write about it. How about you?
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Wednesday, April 01, 2009
A Story about a Story
One book I picked up at garage sale day was The Colorado Kid by Stephen King. I can’t say I’m enjoying it much so far. I’m about 40 pages in, and it’s been very slow.
The main problem is that it’s a story about a story instead of just being a story. Let me explain.
The tale begins with two older newspapermen, both Islanders, and a younger female reporter talking to a mainland reporter. The mainland fellow doesn’t get what he came for, a story about some unsolved mystery, and leaves. The young woman begins to ask whether there are any unsolved mysteries on the island, and the two older men begin to tell her the story of the “Colorado Kid.”
Do you see the problem?
Fiction is already a second hand report. We begin reading with the clear knowledge that we’re being told a story by someone else, the invisible writer. If the writer does his or her job well, we soon forget we’re being told a story and start to live it.
But now, with “Colorado Kid,” I’m being told a story by Stephen King about two guys who are telling a different story to a young woman. It seems like I’m trying to hear the primary story of the “Kid” with a loud conversation going on in the background. So far I’ve not been able to slip inside the story. I’m outside looking in, and I don’t much enjoy it.
Last week I read a tale set in ancient Rome that was told in a “letter” written to someone else. I kept thinking, why not just tell “me” the story, instead of telling someone else and letting me listen in? You could have saved a few hundred words. Now, I can enjoy stories told in letters when the story is “inside” the letters, when it goes back and forth between the letter writers. But this was just “one” letter, explaining everything that happened to one person. Why distance readers further than they already are?
With “Colorado Kid,” at around 35 (its actually 50) pages we read about a couple of young joggers who find a dead body on the beach. Bingo! There’s where the story starts. Show us the joggers, show ‘em seeing the body, approaching the body, realizing it’s a dead man. And I’m with you. I’ve already forgotten the writer. I’m living the tale. Cut out the prelims.
Maybe there are times when the “story about a story” technique is useful, and maybe old Stephen has a plan up his sleeve. I’ll go ahead and read some more, because at least the book is pretty short. But it isn’t a good sign when I pick up the book I’m currently reading, and instead of opening the cover to where I left off, I gaze longingly at my pile of to-be-read books. The “Colorado Kid” cut ahead of a bunch of books on that pile, and so far I’ve regretted that rash decision.
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The main problem is that it’s a story about a story instead of just being a story. Let me explain.
The tale begins with two older newspapermen, both Islanders, and a younger female reporter talking to a mainland reporter. The mainland fellow doesn’t get what he came for, a story about some unsolved mystery, and leaves. The young woman begins to ask whether there are any unsolved mysteries on the island, and the two older men begin to tell her the story of the “Colorado Kid.”
Do you see the problem?
Fiction is already a second hand report. We begin reading with the clear knowledge that we’re being told a story by someone else, the invisible writer. If the writer does his or her job well, we soon forget we’re being told a story and start to live it.
But now, with “Colorado Kid,” I’m being told a story by Stephen King about two guys who are telling a different story to a young woman. It seems like I’m trying to hear the primary story of the “Kid” with a loud conversation going on in the background. So far I’ve not been able to slip inside the story. I’m outside looking in, and I don’t much enjoy it.
Last week I read a tale set in ancient Rome that was told in a “letter” written to someone else. I kept thinking, why not just tell “me” the story, instead of telling someone else and letting me listen in? You could have saved a few hundred words. Now, I can enjoy stories told in letters when the story is “inside” the letters, when it goes back and forth between the letter writers. But this was just “one” letter, explaining everything that happened to one person. Why distance readers further than they already are?
With “Colorado Kid,” at around 35 (its actually 50) pages we read about a couple of young joggers who find a dead body on the beach. Bingo! There’s where the story starts. Show us the joggers, show ‘em seeing the body, approaching the body, realizing it’s a dead man. And I’m with you. I’ve already forgotten the writer. I’m living the tale. Cut out the prelims.
Maybe there are times when the “story about a story” technique is useful, and maybe old Stephen has a plan up his sleeve. I’ll go ahead and read some more, because at least the book is pretty short. But it isn’t a good sign when I pick up the book I’m currently reading, and instead of opening the cover to where I left off, I gaze longingly at my pile of to-be-read books. The “Colorado Kid” cut ahead of a bunch of books on that pile, and so far I’ve regretted that rash decision.
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Monday, March 30, 2009
Make Up Time
Well, to make up for the week of torrential downpours, nature treated us Saturday and Sunday to absolutely stunning days. Clear skies of crisp blue. Cool temperatures with almost no humidity and a sweet breeze. I read a lot on the deck while I watched the hungry birds swarm our feeders. (For a couple of days we had been putting food "on" the deck because it required wading to reach the feeders.)
I'm still finding reading on my Kindle 2 a pleasing experience. It's nice to always have a perfectly flat page, I'm finding. I also discovered earlier in the week that Amazon has quite a number of free Kindle books available for download, including a Robin Hobb fantasy and a Lee Child thriller. However, I must confess that I actually put in an order for printed copies of several of the books I've already read on my Kindle. I just really, really like having printed books around me.
On Saturday, Lana and I went to a few garage sales in Abita Springs. Word had gone out Friday that the town wide garage sale plans had been postponed, but some folks either didn't get the word or decided Saturday was too lovely not to have a sale. Despite having to walk through mud in places, a good time seemed to be had by all. Lana bought quite a few pieces of the colored glass she loves, and I bought........drumroll please.......books! It's hard to pass up any book that you might one day read when you get them for 25 to 50 cents.
I also got in a couple of good walks, and Lana and I went Sunday afternoon to one of the local nature centers. I'm sure she'll have up some pics this week.
And in the evenings, writing was accomplished.
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I'm still finding reading on my Kindle 2 a pleasing experience. It's nice to always have a perfectly flat page, I'm finding. I also discovered earlier in the week that Amazon has quite a number of free Kindle books available for download, including a Robin Hobb fantasy and a Lee Child thriller. However, I must confess that I actually put in an order for printed copies of several of the books I've already read on my Kindle. I just really, really like having printed books around me.
On Saturday, Lana and I went to a few garage sales in Abita Springs. Word had gone out Friday that the town wide garage sale plans had been postponed, but some folks either didn't get the word or decided Saturday was too lovely not to have a sale. Despite having to walk through mud in places, a good time seemed to be had by all. Lana bought quite a few pieces of the colored glass she loves, and I bought........drumroll please.......books! It's hard to pass up any book that you might one day read when you get them for 25 to 50 cents.
I also got in a couple of good walks, and Lana and I went Sunday afternoon to one of the local nature centers. I'm sure she'll have up some pics this week.
And in the evenings, writing was accomplished.
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Saturday, March 28, 2009
What a Week
First, hard drive failure on Monday: No writing accomplished. School work only.
Second, reloading reformatted hard drive, Tuesday and Wednesday: Minimal writing accomplished.
Third, driving through torrential downpours going and coming from work Thursday: Still, some writing accomplished.
Fourth, wide scale flooding in the neighborhood on Friday. I managed to make it out of the neighborhood Friday morning but coming home I had to park a couple of miles away and hoof it through waist deep water for a good ways before making it to semi-solid land. We then waited out storm cell after storm cell, with rain coming in sheets while the black sky blammed with lightning and thunder, and with the water creeping steadily higher in our yard: Writing not even attempted.
It turns out one of the pumping stations in Abita Springs broke down and our area got the worst of the backup during the day and early night on Friday. Fortunately, neither of our cars were damaged. Nor was our house. And this morning the sun is flaming from a wide blue sky and the swamp in our yard is gradually receding.
Will there be writing today? We'll see.
By the way, Lana has a flood pic and more info on the experience at her blog.
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Second, reloading reformatted hard drive, Tuesday and Wednesday: Minimal writing accomplished.
Third, driving through torrential downpours going and coming from work Thursday: Still, some writing accomplished.
Fourth, wide scale flooding in the neighborhood on Friday. I managed to make it out of the neighborhood Friday morning but coming home I had to park a couple of miles away and hoof it through waist deep water for a good ways before making it to semi-solid land. We then waited out storm cell after storm cell, with rain coming in sheets while the black sky blammed with lightning and thunder, and with the water creeping steadily higher in our yard: Writing not even attempted.
It turns out one of the pumping stations in Abita Springs broke down and our area got the worst of the backup during the day and early night on Friday. Fortunately, neither of our cars were damaged. Nor was our house. And this morning the sun is flaming from a wide blue sky and the swamp in our yard is gradually receding.
Will there be writing today? We'll see.
By the way, Lana has a flood pic and more info on the experience at her blog.
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Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Hard Drive Failure
Well, my work computer entered a terminal loop Monday morning when I tried to boot it up. Our ITC department came to pick it up and I found out today the hard drive was completely fried. Our expert was unable to save anything and had to reformat the entire machine. I got it back Tuesday afternoon with a mind wipe.
Fortunately, I'm rather obsessive about backing everything up and didn't really loose any data. I did loose many hours of work, though, since most everything I do these days involves computers and email. That meant I had about six straight hours of work at home that evening, work I should have gotten done at school.
Between that and having to restore all my files on the computer on Tuesday, I had to let visiting blogs slide completely. But I should be able to get back on track tomorrow.
*****
In other news, I got some more copies of my books in and can offer signed copies at something of a discount if anyone is interested. The prices are below, and these prices include shipping and handling, which makes the discount fairly reasonable.
Cold in the Light: $12.50
Any Individual Talera novel: $14.50
Any Two Talera Novels: $28.00
All Three Talera Novels: $40.00
I'll throw in a copy of Strange Worlds of Lunancy, which has a story by me and is subtitled "The World's Silliest Anthology," for $5.00 with any order. (I only have 3 of these, though)
If you're interested, email me at kainja@hotmail.com
Until later!
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Fortunately, I'm rather obsessive about backing everything up and didn't really loose any data. I did loose many hours of work, though, since most everything I do these days involves computers and email. That meant I had about six straight hours of work at home that evening, work I should have gotten done at school.
Between that and having to restore all my files on the computer on Tuesday, I had to let visiting blogs slide completely. But I should be able to get back on track tomorrow.
*****
In other news, I got some more copies of my books in and can offer signed copies at something of a discount if anyone is interested. The prices are below, and these prices include shipping and handling, which makes the discount fairly reasonable.
Cold in the Light: $12.50
Any Individual Talera novel: $14.50
Any Two Talera Novels: $28.00
All Three Talera Novels: $40.00
I'll throw in a copy of Strange Worlds of Lunancy, which has a story by me and is subtitled "The World's Silliest Anthology," for $5.00 with any order. (I only have 3 of these, though)
If you're interested, email me at kainja@hotmail.com
Until later!
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Saturday, March 21, 2009
I Appear to be Fabulous!
James Reasoner nominated me for this award last Sunday, and a little later Shauna Roberts also nominated me. I much appreciate it James and Shauna. It’s nice to be recognized.
To accept this award I’m supposed to post five things I’m obsessed with, and also nominate five other fabulous blogs for the award. Now I don’t believe there are five things I’m “obsessed” with in the clinical use of that term, but I certainly can find five things that I spend a lot of my spare time doing. Those will have to do. So, my “obsessions” first.
1. Reading: This is closest I come to an obsession in a clinical sense. I’m virtually a compulsive reader. Last night I was reading a book I’m not enjoying very much. Lana and I were also having a conversation, and I found after a few minutes that I’d read ten pages of the book without actually paying attention to anything more than the bare words. I read everywhere, and anything. Have book? Will read!
2. Books: I suppose this goes hand in hand with number 1, but in addition to reading compulsively, I also really just enjoy being around and handling books. I like rearranging my shelves, and going through piles of unread books to select one that I want to read. I like to see my collection add up as I finish a new book and put it on the shelves. This is one thing that my Kindle 2 will never replace, and it’s a biggie.
3. Food: I rather love to eat. And I eat a lot. I’m no gourmet, though, and I’m no kind of chef who carefully prepares his meals according to some inner creative fire. I want food on my plate. Hearty food. Large amount s of it. And I want to say mmhymmn when I fork those bites to my mouth.
4. Nature: I love living in the country, to awake in the morning to the sun streaming through the trees. I love to get out and hike. I love having living things all around me other than human beings. The natural world is so incredibly beautiful. I couldn’t truly live without it.
5. Imagining: This one is a riff off of Shauna’s selection of “creating.” I simply love the act of imagining things. For the Talera series, for example, I’ve got a large number of plants and animals and cities and landmasses etc. that have not yet appeared in the books. I just loved making them up. And I’ve mentioned my habit of making up stories for myself as I lay down to go off to sleep. Much of my day is spent interacting with my own imagination.
It's hard to choose only five people from among the many wonderful blogs I read. My choices are five blogs that in the past year have expanded my horizons or helped me be a better writer. Thanks to all of them:
Greg Schwartz: Greg is a very fine poet; I have several of his collections. Reading his work has taught me a bit about how to use dark humor in poetry, something I’m not very adept at but which I admire. He also often has great info on markets and I’ve sold a couple of things to magazines he’s linked to.
Hello Ello 2: Ello has funny children, very, very funny children. Or else Ello is funny enough herself to make her children seem tremendously funny. For some good humor, sometimes from what America’s Funny Home Videos call the “naughty file,” check her blog out.
Wayne Allen Sallee: Wayne is an immensely talented writer, and also a friend of mine. Even though we’ve only met once in person. Whether in his blogging or his fiction, Wayne always writes close to the bone.
Sidney Williams: Sid is another friend of mine, and also a very fine writer. I’ve got at least 7 or 8 of his books on my shelves. Sid doesn’t post very often but he always has something interesting to say when he does. He also runs the very interesting Fear on Demand
Heff: Heff doesn’t read much, as he’s happy to tell you. But he talks a lot about food and drink, one of my obsessions, and about heavy metal and hard rock music, which is the only kind I listen too. Whenever you’re tired of reading blogs about writing and writers, hop over to Heff’s for something completely different. Besides, he owns a bar, and where else are you going to go if there’s a zombie outbreak?
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Philosophy Corner: Mild Rant Ahead
At lunch yesterday I had a debate with a colleague and friend of mine about fairness. We were first talking about students doing group projects. I said I always hated them in school because I ended up doing the work while others loafed, and that I thought of them as inherently unfair. That’s one reason I never assign them to my students. My friend said that’s one reason he does assign them. He felt that students needed to learn now that the world is unfair. In other words, that’s just the way it is.
Damn but that phrase and that argument bother me. Any reasonably intelligent and experienced person knows the world isn’t fair. But the fact remains that the world should be fair, and it’s important—I think—to say so. It’s important to strive for fairness in our dealings with the world, and people who work toward fairness can make a difference in that world, sometimes small ones, sometimes big ones.
Although I’m sure that not everyone who has supported equal rights for women, minorities, and gays over the years has done so without ulterior motives, I firmly believe that many have done so out of a sense of fairness. It’s simply not right for women to be paid less than men for equal work. It’s not fair for African Americans or gay couples to be discriminated against because of their skin color or sexual orientation. Yet, there have been times (and sometimes those times are now) when such discrimination has happened. Did the fact that women once lacked the right to vote mean people should have accepted it because that was “just the way it was?”
I don’t typically think of myself as an idealist, or even a liberal. I’m certainly no saint. And I don’t really care if my friend assigns his classes group projects. What I do reject, though, is the attitude of that’s just the way it is. I refuse to accept it.
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Damn but that phrase and that argument bother me. Any reasonably intelligent and experienced person knows the world isn’t fair. But the fact remains that the world should be fair, and it’s important—I think—to say so. It’s important to strive for fairness in our dealings with the world, and people who work toward fairness can make a difference in that world, sometimes small ones, sometimes big ones.
Although I’m sure that not everyone who has supported equal rights for women, minorities, and gays over the years has done so without ulterior motives, I firmly believe that many have done so out of a sense of fairness. It’s simply not right for women to be paid less than men for equal work. It’s not fair for African Americans or gay couples to be discriminated against because of their skin color or sexual orientation. Yet, there have been times (and sometimes those times are now) when such discrimination has happened. Did the fact that women once lacked the right to vote mean people should have accepted it because that was “just the way it was?”
I don’t typically think of myself as an idealist, or even a liberal. I’m certainly no saint. And I don’t really care if my friend assigns his classes group projects. What I do reject, though, is the attitude of that’s just the way it is. I refuse to accept it.
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Monday, March 16, 2009
Something New?
Here's something that came to me last week. Mainly just a scene. I'm not quite sure where it's going, and so far haven't figured out exactly how to advance from here. But, for what it's worth:
Razored Land
No cross. No flowers. No marker at all.
He didn’t want the grave found.
After scattering the leftover dirt from the hole he’d dug and then filled, he made a broom from a pine limb with its needles still attached to wipe away his footprints and the unnaturally smooth cuts of the shovel into the soft forest loam. Dead leaves and twigs added to the camouflage over the grave, and when he finished his work and stepped back, he thought: Nothing will find you here. And nothing will smell you either. Not the animals. Not even the Others.
At the bottom of the hole, over the lacerated body, he’d interlaced layers of fresh cut pine boughs. They made a fragrant shroud, redolent with a spring season this dead one would not see again. Over that he’d put a paving of stones.
A fragment of sound brought the man’s head up. His right hand dropped to the .357 at his hip, rough fingers curling around the worn grip. Nostrils flared. His yellow-brown eyes searched the surrounding wood. He smelled longleaf pine, and Yaupon holly, and the first blooms of the blackberry brambles. He smelled other things, new things on the earth. But these new things weren’t dangerous. And he saw only the same things he smelled, and no movement except a flutter of leaves and pine needles in the breeze that soothed his sweat.
Perhaps an acorn had fallen. Or a twig. Still, he did not relax. He never completely relaxed. Not any more. But the steel spring tension in his muscles eased slightly, and the breath slid once more into his lungs through tight-drawn lips.
The sweat had dried on his chest and back now, and he walked over to the tree where he’d hung his shirt and hat. The shirt was cotton, and had once been white. The hat was flat brimmed, of black leather. He slipped them on, then picked up the shovel and his rifle and walked away from the grave of the little girl he’d just buried.
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So, did he kill the child? Find the child dead? Is he a good guy or a bad guy? And who are "The Others?" What do you think?
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Razored Land
No cross. No flowers. No marker at all.
He didn’t want the grave found.
After scattering the leftover dirt from the hole he’d dug and then filled, he made a broom from a pine limb with its needles still attached to wipe away his footprints and the unnaturally smooth cuts of the shovel into the soft forest loam. Dead leaves and twigs added to the camouflage over the grave, and when he finished his work and stepped back, he thought: Nothing will find you here. And nothing will smell you either. Not the animals. Not even the Others.
At the bottom of the hole, over the lacerated body, he’d interlaced layers of fresh cut pine boughs. They made a fragrant shroud, redolent with a spring season this dead one would not see again. Over that he’d put a paving of stones.
A fragment of sound brought the man’s head up. His right hand dropped to the .357 at his hip, rough fingers curling around the worn grip. Nostrils flared. His yellow-brown eyes searched the surrounding wood. He smelled longleaf pine, and Yaupon holly, and the first blooms of the blackberry brambles. He smelled other things, new things on the earth. But these new things weren’t dangerous. And he saw only the same things he smelled, and no movement except a flutter of leaves and pine needles in the breeze that soothed his sweat.
Perhaps an acorn had fallen. Or a twig. Still, he did not relax. He never completely relaxed. Not any more. But the steel spring tension in his muscles eased slightly, and the breath slid once more into his lungs through tight-drawn lips.
The sweat had dried on his chest and back now, and he walked over to the tree where he’d hung his shirt and hat. The shirt was cotton, and had once been white. The hat was flat brimmed, of black leather. He slipped them on, then picked up the shovel and his rifle and walked away from the grave of the little girl he’d just buried.
--- end ---
So, did he kill the child? Find the child dead? Is he a good guy or a bad guy? And who are "The Others?" What do you think?
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Friday, March 13, 2009
Still Busy
Not much writing going on in my world. Midterms are done but everything else that backed up behind that is now due. I've got two IRB proposals on my desk today, and I've already dealt with two others this week. IRB stands for Internal Review Board, and we are the committee on campus that reviews any research involving human participants to make sure no one gets hurt. Unfortunately, I'm the chairperson. Sigh!
Ninety-five percent of the studies we review are just surveys, with virtually no chance to cause a participant any discomfort. In those cases, I'm the only member of the committee who has to review the project. The main issue is making sure all the i's are dotted and t's are crossed so we won't get into trouble with funding agencies. This wouldn't be so tough if professors weren't a lot like students in their failure to read instructions.
A submitter told me once, "Wow, I guess it would have made your job a lot easier if I'd proofread my proposal before turning it in."
You think?
One bit of good news, though. One of my horror haiku from Wanting the Mouth of a Lover has been nominated for the Rhysling Award in speculative poetry. This is the award given annually by the Science Fiction Poetry Association (SFPA). I know who nominated the poem and I much appreciate it. It's a great honor.
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Ninety-five percent of the studies we review are just surveys, with virtually no chance to cause a participant any discomfort. In those cases, I'm the only member of the committee who has to review the project. The main issue is making sure all the i's are dotted and t's are crossed so we won't get into trouble with funding agencies. This wouldn't be so tough if professors weren't a lot like students in their failure to read instructions.
A submitter told me once, "Wow, I guess it would have made your job a lot easier if I'd proofread my proposal before turning it in."
You think?
One bit of good news, though. One of my horror haiku from Wanting the Mouth of a Lover has been nominated for the Rhysling Award in speculative poetry. This is the award given annually by the Science Fiction Poetry Association (SFPA). I know who nominated the poem and I much appreciate it. It's a great honor.
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Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Comfort versus Discomfort
Well, I finished mid-terms and now I’d like to go to sleep. Unfortunately, I have a late meeting this afternoon so I’m still in the office. I’ve got some writing I want to do, but I thought a quick post might be in order.
Over on her blog, Patty Abbott asked where writers tend to set their scenes, and about where writers feel comfortable. That got me thinking, which is always a dangerous thing. And sometimes silly.
I guess there are two sides to that question. Where does a writer feel comfortable, in the sense of being familiar with a place that is featured in a scene? And where does a writer feel emotionally comfortable?
I think it’s important, although not always absolutely necessary, to at least link your scenes physically to places you are familiar with. Or, you need to make yourself familiar with those places. Cold in the Light is set in Arkansas, in the Ozark Mountains, an area I’m intimately familiar with. The Talera books are set on another planet, and I’ve…only been there a few times. But what I haven’t seen in person I try to make up for with research. As writers, we live in a boon time for that. Just about every place has been photographed and those pictures are online. It’s not a complete substitute for actually walking the ground of a place, but it can sure provide many important details. If I need to get an idea of what a jungle waterfall looks like on Talera, I can at least start by checking out photos of jungle waterfalls here on Earth.
On the other hand, when it comes to emotion, I tend to think writers should work from a position of discomfort. I don’t think you want to feel too emotionally comfortable in your fictional world, or else a good source of story tension will be lost. I think this is especially true in some genres. Take horror fiction, for example. I think the best fiction comes when writers are experiencing at least some of the same emotions they want the reader to experience. I realized from Patty’s post, that I like to use claustrophobic situations in my horror. I like to use the dark woods. And those kinds of situations make me intensely uncomfortable myself.
What say you? Is it different for other genres? Or does the rule generally hold true?
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Over on her blog, Patty Abbott asked where writers tend to set their scenes, and about where writers feel comfortable. That got me thinking, which is always a dangerous thing. And sometimes silly.
I guess there are two sides to that question. Where does a writer feel comfortable, in the sense of being familiar with a place that is featured in a scene? And where does a writer feel emotionally comfortable?
I think it’s important, although not always absolutely necessary, to at least link your scenes physically to places you are familiar with. Or, you need to make yourself familiar with those places. Cold in the Light is set in Arkansas, in the Ozark Mountains, an area I’m intimately familiar with. The Talera books are set on another planet, and I’ve…only been there a few times. But what I haven’t seen in person I try to make up for with research. As writers, we live in a boon time for that. Just about every place has been photographed and those pictures are online. It’s not a complete substitute for actually walking the ground of a place, but it can sure provide many important details. If I need to get an idea of what a jungle waterfall looks like on Talera, I can at least start by checking out photos of jungle waterfalls here on Earth.
On the other hand, when it comes to emotion, I tend to think writers should work from a position of discomfort. I don’t think you want to feel too emotionally comfortable in your fictional world, or else a good source of story tension will be lost. I think this is especially true in some genres. Take horror fiction, for example. I think the best fiction comes when writers are experiencing at least some of the same emotions they want the reader to experience. I realized from Patty’s post, that I like to use claustrophobic situations in my horror. I like to use the dark woods. And those kinds of situations make me intensely uncomfortable myself.
What say you? Is it different for other genres? Or does the rule generally hold true?
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Sunday, March 08, 2009
Starting and Stopping
Three days! After my last round of grading I had three glorious days to work on Wraith of Talera. Since it had been a couple of months since the last time I worked on it, most of those three days was spent in a careful rereading and revision of material already completed. I had to refresh my memory as to where I was in the story. Right about the time I got back to “new” material, mid-terms hit. I managed to get some needed plotting done, but not much in the way of new writing. Since then I’ve been grading. Just grading.
Starting and stopping is one of the hardest things to deal with in on a novel length project. And, unfortunately, that’s the nature of the teaching biz. You have moments of down time, then moments of insanity. And this semester I’m teaching a non-fiction writing class, which means a lot more paper grading than in most semesters. There’s always in academia, in addition, the need to do at least a couple of scholarly type writing projects a year. Those provide more interference with any long-term fiction goal.
But it’s not just the academic job that interferes. I had a couple of really nice opportunities to do some short fiction and nonfiction. They were things I wanted to do and that were good for my career, so the novel went on the back burner. For too long.
I wish I could end this post with a lesson I’ve learned, or a technique for dealing with slow downs. Ain’t gonna happen. I’ve got more grading tomorrow, and on Monday I’ll have a pile of late papers to grade so that I can get midterms turned in by high noon Tuesday. Right now I’m pretty tired and am going to bed. I’ll try to make my blog rounds tomorrow, but Monday and Tuesday are likely to be no shows for me. After that I might get back to a semblance of normalcy for a while. Then it’ll be final exams and all the hassle surrounding graduation.
Just gotta hang on. Gotta hang on.
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Starting and stopping is one of the hardest things to deal with in on a novel length project. And, unfortunately, that’s the nature of the teaching biz. You have moments of down time, then moments of insanity. And this semester I’m teaching a non-fiction writing class, which means a lot more paper grading than in most semesters. There’s always in academia, in addition, the need to do at least a couple of scholarly type writing projects a year. Those provide more interference with any long-term fiction goal.
But it’s not just the academic job that interferes. I had a couple of really nice opportunities to do some short fiction and nonfiction. They were things I wanted to do and that were good for my career, so the novel went on the back burner. For too long.
I wish I could end this post with a lesson I’ve learned, or a technique for dealing with slow downs. Ain’t gonna happen. I’ve got more grading tomorrow, and on Monday I’ll have a pile of late papers to grade so that I can get midterms turned in by high noon Tuesday. Right now I’m pretty tired and am going to bed. I’ll try to make my blog rounds tomorrow, but Monday and Tuesday are likely to be no shows for me. After that I might get back to a semblance of normalcy for a while. Then it’ll be final exams and all the hassle surrounding graduation.
Just gotta hang on. Gotta hang on.
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