The last time I checked, the last of that titular list was a bonafide "interest" that would link you with like-minded others on LJ.

And yes, I snicker when I type the word "titular."

Anyway, having started the music-as-inspiration tangent, and not to be undone by Erin and her Neil Gaiman productivity quote, allow me to up the ante.

My novel--the one I'm working on at least--has been in development since August 2002.

I wrote the first chapter last November.

In the meantime...

I've made at least five "official" soundtracks.

I've made at least one "official" cast for the movie, complete with headshots.

I've held the domain name for the novel's title for two years, and it's still just the "coming soon" screen.

I've had a CafePress store for "marketing" my novel, from which I own three t-shirts and several other knickknacks, and from which some anonymous person in France also bought a shirt.

I will be making new shirts this month.

I have made two complete sets of reference illustrations for my novel, in color.  I deleted one set in the fall of 2006, under the auspices of "growing up."  The new set is three or four times the size and complexity of the old set.

And now, even though I claim not to be able to draw, even though I have at least two artist friends I swear I'm going to hire to work on a graphic novel version of the novel with me, last night I got out a pencil--a pencil!--and sketched my protagonist:

So yeah.  I'm still on page 83.

 

Inspiration comes from some odd places.  I have a tendency to hear things and take them in odd directions (I've got a story--probably for January workshops--that was inspired by Dateline NBC's "To Catch a Predator"), but I don't think I'm especially alone with that.  So it makes me giggle with anticipation (what's the slang now, it makes me squee?) to see that we've got a presentation this summer at Stonecoast about writing under the influence of rock and roll.

Of course, it's not just music that gets the juices going.  One SC alum recently mentioned pulling character names from the end credits of movies, and just last night my wife was watching a rerun of Wife Swap and called to me from across the room, "You need a cajun character in your novel."  Fortunately, as I told her, I already had several cajun characters waiting in the wings, and I spent the next hour-plus watching reality tv with her and listening to speech patterns.

But music bears the most fruit for me.  As I right this, I'm listening to Bob Marley (the album "Natural Mystic,"), not just because I dig the tunes, but because I'm gearing up to write an extended scene with two of my characters, both of whom are Jamaican, and I want to envision what they've been listening to in the Hummer they just stepped out of (and no, I'm not stereotyping with music choice here, there's a revolution brewing in the latter pages of my novel, and the lyrics are key, even if they'll never be mentioned).

(And yes, my book has Jamaicans and cajuns, both, and I'm trying so hard to write "normal" dialogue.)

Stephen King claimes to write while listening to loud rock music, while I have read that Quentin Tarantino likes to make a soundtrack for his films before he makes them, maybe before he even writes the script, and I've found the same processes work for me.  The novel I'm currently working on, or at least the image that spawned the whole concept, came to me while sitting at a trolley stop in San Diego and listening to Aerosmith's "Mama Kin."  For some time I debated whether my novel was more punk/metal or more Southern rock, before settling somewhere between the two.

Although, so far the only song mentioned in the book is Bowie's "Space Oddity," so who knows.

Hit me with music, indeed.

Well, my current story that is making the rounds just got its third rejection, fourth if you count the 4+ month non-response that I withdrew from.  Not counting that anomaly, the poor thing has been out for a total of 15 days for the other 3 rejections.

And yet, it's starting to become a fun little game.  I like the story, personally, but it's not especially scary and it tries to be a little funny, and it's a lot of dialogue, and so I'm having a hard time finding it a home (for those of you playing along, this was my second workshop, first residency story, about the monster being summoned by the remixed music in a club, remember?).

I've been using Duotrope, but knowing where to submit is still a total crapshoot.  

At least I'm doing something!

I'm 34 (I had to think about that), I really should be weaning myself off of toy shopping, at least until I have a child, but every trip to Wal-Mart requires a lap through the toy section so I know what I'm missing.  And now we have Iron Man stuff coming out, Hulk stuff, classic vehicles for the 25th anniversary G.I. Joes figures, all sorts of nifty stuff to clutter up the bookcases and then sell on eBay when I get bored with it a month later (the wife frowns on this process).  But we also have new Indiana Jones toys, a great deal of which echo the figures I had when I was a kid.  But there are also the trendy new little cutsie figures, including this oddly inappropriate set:

So you get your little Beloqq in ceremonial robes from Raiders, you get a cute little Ark of the Covenant (hey, I had the "normal" version back in '81, can't complain), and you also get...a cute little Wrath of God "ghost."  Tell me that does not rock.  They also have the Nazi mechanic who gets memorably butchered by airplane propellors, but that's in a different set.  And he's smiling.  But seriously...a toy Wrath of God. 

I made my wife tell me "no."  A bunch of times.

Also, people, I know it's mid-afternoon, but it's National Comic Book Day, go to the local comic book store (and maybe like Borders, too), and ask for your free comic!  It's pop fiction-y good!

The Appendix: Ten Rules for "Serious" Writers at the end of the book is an ironic set of guidelines for writing, each of which refers to a previous violation of successful prose that he has criticized. Myers implies following these rules will lead to literary success.

The rules are as follows:

1. Be Writerly: If your writing is too natural, then there is no way it is scholarly.

2. Sprawl: Content doesn't matter, it's all about size. Critics are impressed by big books, so brevity should be dismissed.

3. Equivocate: If it doesn't make sense, there can always be a good excuse. Truth can always be distorted as long as it makes the writer sound good. For example, the plot isn't important because the lack of plot is what's important.

4. Mystify: If people think that your writing is smarter than their writing, then they will respect your writing. If you sound smart (and definitely if you are published) then you must possess a brilliant mind.

5. Keep Sentences Long: If the sentence is not long and boring, then it is definitely not literature.

6. Repeat yourself: Repetition of words is important. If you don't mention your subject enough times, then the reader may not know what you are talking about. You may also use synonyms to show that you know how to use a thesaurus, and thus, must be an intelligent writer.

7. Pile on the Imagery: Your writerly credentials will bloom to greatness if your ability to tie together multiple similes and metaphors like the wooden pieces of a Lincoln log set, never disintegrate from the fiery visage of the sun. The more literary devices that you can throw together, the better the writing .

8. Archaize: If thine style of writing reflects an age long gone, and a world unfamiliar to the modern reader, than thou art indeed a master of the quill and the ink. This is very similar to rule number four, except you must write as if you are stuck in the past, rather than stuck in a dictionary.

9. Bore: The word boring may as well be a synonym to the word scholarly. Along the lines of rule number one, you cannot write naturally, or make your words interesting. It is simply not scholarly. People are not suppose to be able to understand your writing, they are only suppose to realize that your writing is brilliant, because it just might be the cure for insomnia.

10. Play the part: Remember to be as you write, scholarly, literate, practically a god. You must understand that when you seem smart, when you seem to believe in yourself, others will do the same, because, how could someone that is so smart and so pompous be wrong?

Myers described the original article, which saw no end of responses from admirers and critics, as "a light-hearted polemic" about modern literature. Myers was particularly concerned with what he saw as the growing pretentiousness of American literary fiction. He was skeptical about the value of elaborate, allusive prose and argued that what was praised as good writing was in fact the epitome of bad writing. His critique concentrated on E. Annie Proulx, Cormac McCarthy, Paul Auster, David Guterson, and Don DeLillo, all of whom enjoyed substantial acclaim from the literary establishment.^[1] Myers directed many of his harshest charges at literary critics for prestigious publications such as the New York Times Book Review, whom he accused of lavishing praise upon bad writing either for political reasons, or because they did not understand it and therefore assumed it to have great artistic merit. Myers also focuses on what he calls, "the cult of the sentence," criticizing critics for pulling single sentences out of novels in order to praise their brilliance, while ignoring shortcomings in the novel as a whole.

Have any of the four or five of you who read my blog read this book?

And if not, can we at least figure out why "artistic merit" has a link?

I am a big sports uniform aficionado, so much so that I live for my daily dose of UniWatch and spend far too much time making custom uniforms online.

I'm also a big proponent of being proud of  the popular fiction genre.  To that end, I dreamt up the idea of making PopFic "uniforms" for the summer residency at Stonecoast, something my classmates and I (who am I kidding here?  my classmates are the only people who read this) would all wear on the first full day as a show of solidarity.  Originally I wanted everyone to have a uniform number and their last name on the back of the shirt, as if a spontaneous softball game might break out and we'd be ready.  Another suggestion was made for a catchy slogan on the back instead.

So I made both.

Eventually I'll be offering this design to my fellow PopFic'rs:


Hopefully people will dig it so much they'll want a numbered "jersey" version and a slogan version, with this back:

The back reads "This is what Popular [Fiction] looks like."  At least it's not the N-Sync lyrics I was going to use.  With enough people ordering, I should be able to get the shirts for $10-12 each, which seems a reasonable price to pay.

For those who are truly sold on my vision, there remains the option of baseball caps, either in a "team" style to match the shirts:

Or in a less expensive, more explicit, non-matching version:


My ultimate master plan, then, would be to make the other three genres jealous, and then offer them each a "uniform" created especially for them:

For those of you playing along at home. that'd be Poetry (because Poetasters and Versifiers are both negative), Fiction (I made up a word, yes indeed), and Creative Nonfiction (CNF, or seein' eff).

Of course, they'd have their shirts by the winter, and the PopFic'rs would have moved on to hoodies at that point.

And you think I'm kidding.

I think I have figured out, via sudden epiphany (as opposed to the non-sudden variety), what my problem is.

I no longer enjoy reading.

I also am rapidly losing all interest in writing.

I like drawing, coloring, and listening to classic rock while visualizing my novel.  None of that is productive.

38 days without writing a word of fiction...

And counting...

So here’s the writing-in-progress update, just so I can be held accountable in cyberspace.

The novel: 4 chapters, 18785 words (14330 since coming back from residency), 67 pages

The novella: 6 “parts”, 7234 words (5510 since coming back from residency), 26 pages

One new short story: 5769 words, 20 pages

Semester totals to date: 25615* words (12974 in February so far), 90 pages

When I was doing my MA thesis, I had a few 6000+ word days, so I know what’s possible.  These totals are just doing two-three hours a day.

I think I’m starting to get the hang of this writer shtick.

*Yes, I realize there are six bonus words in that total.  Repeat after me: “English.  Major.”

Okay, so I’ll do a little more than instigate, since I’ve thought things over on the topic, and not just in the last 24 hours, either.  The time I spent working on my MA was highlighted by the continual return of the genre vs. literary argument.  Unfortunately, the way I see it playing out so many times, both in the media and in our interaction at Stonecoast—and I am as guilty of this as anyone—is that we as “genre” people tend to adopt a defensive stance that makes us sound like we are the perpetual victims in this matter.  While it is true that, for the most part, it is the contributions of genre fiction that are looked down upon, it is clear that we are not blameless when it comes to making attacks that have little basis, such as name-calling or otherwise attacking individuals rather than the positions they espouse.  I do not propose to settle the argument, or even delve very deeply into it, but rather make a few observations that I have not seen being taken into account by those on “our” side.

Definitions.  Though the critics are most guilty, if we buy into their use of terminology, we are acknowledging their worldview as correct.  Any usage of the word “literary” that equates it in some way with “high quality” is in error.  In truth, the decision of whether a work is literary or not is really up to the canon process and the dictates of history.  Who will students be studying a century or two from now?  I would suggest that only with the benefit of hindsight can a text be deemed literary.  At the turn of the twentieth century, few critics expected the work of Mark Twain to prove as lasting as it has.  Conversely, popular fiction means wither the literature of the people or the fiction that is most esteemed by the most people, and it is clear that worked touted as “literary” often becomes “popular,” and it is only those with a skewed view of reality that equate popular with poor quality and feel “dirty” for being popular (Isn’t it ironic that creative artists in any field that make such a complaint are usually the ones draping themselves in Marxist regalia?).  As a fall back we use “genre” for “our” side, and may occasionally revert to “mainstream” for the others.  Again, imprecision rules the day, but these will suffice for now.

Appearances.  Whoever suggested that the majority of the critics are not well-versed in contemporary genre work is probably right, although there is no way of knowing for sure.  And while that does tend to mean that their criticism may not be well-informed, does it also mean we can disregard it entirely?  I would suggest that we at least give some credence to said criticism as it may reflect the general consensus of the populace as a whole who, most likely, are not checking off every title they’ve read on the recommended reading list for 2007.  Because genre fiction is often pigeonholed as such by the dictates of marketing, marketing should share some of the blame for the poor view of genre fiction in the wider culture.  For example, walk down the aisle of the genre of your choice in your local bookstore, and look at the covers.  How many feature an anthropomorphic animal in period costume?  Or a protagonist in body armor carrying oversized firearms?  Or a human and an alien standing back to back in a Charlie’s Angels action pose?  Or some sort of stylized suggestion of blood spatter all over the cover?  One could easily grab twenty variations of each of those off the shelf, what’s to stop the casual shopper for assuming  that the contents within the books are all roughly equal and of equivalent merit to the cover art?  I know, “You can’t judge a book by its cover,” but tell that to the marketing department.  When was the last time you saw a romance novel without a couple locked in passionate embrace on the cover?   A similar argument could be made for series books: the casual observer can look at six, seven, a dozen rows of Star Trek titles, or Star Wars books, or Dragonlance . . . can we really fault them for thinking their must be some formulaic way of cranking out these titles that may or may not have some effect on their quality?  Or what about the prolific nature of some genre authors?  Talents aside, when Literary Giant X releases one new novel a decade, to thundering universal acclaim, and then James Patterson puts out six hardcovers a year, isn’t the reader unfamiliar with either author going to wonder about Patterson’s revision strategies?  So yes, there is an issue to be made about critics not reading in the genres, but can we at least put ourselves in their shoes and look at our field through their eyes for a moment, however uninformed that vision may be?

Subcultures.  I may be going out on a limb here, but I feel safe in claiming there is no mainstream equivalent to Readercon, or World Fantasy, or any convention like that.  Genre fandom enjoys coming together en masse, and that can be inexplicable to an outsider (and some of us on the inside who are of the more misanthropic slant, as well).  You may draw the line at ever dressing up like a Klingon or going to a comic book convention, but the distinction is non-existent to the mainstream reader.  You don’t see people dressing up like someone from a Tom Wolfe novel, and it would be major news if three or four contemporary mainstream authors sat down at a panel discussion for a group of fans.  I am not saying that fandom is bad in any way, I just think we need to realize that our enthusiasm, affection, and support for genre work can be off-putting to those outside of “our” circle.  And, like most subculture, if we insist on reinforcing the us vs. them mentality, it only makes us look that much less comprehensible.  We complain about the critics claiming any exceptionally well-written genre work as “theirs,” but don’t we grab authors as “ours” as soon as they dabble in genre themes?  Poor Michael Chabon probably doesn’t know where he’s supposed to line up anymore.  Except, maybe there shouldn’t be lines.  Fiction is fiction, revel in all of the good stuff.

Realities.  Say it with me: “There is bad genre fiction.”  There is also bad mainstream fiction, but it gets lost in the shuffle a lot easier.  Sometimes the bad genre fiction is also the popular genre fiction.  I need not mention the adventures of a certain oversexed vampire hunting female detective, do I?  Hell, do I need to even mention vampires?  We need to come to grips with the fact that we produce in genres that include more than their fair share of drivel, and much of that drivel is what catches the eye of the general public.  We also need to be fair and admit that there are times when each and every one of us has fallen back on the same old genre tropes.  Those tropes are there for several reasons, not the least of which is that they were once established as breaking new ground, often in what would be considered a very “literary” way.  LotR, anyone?  Now, of course, that gets co-opted into the apparent mandate that all fantasy literature include a wise-cracking dwarf, a heroic elf, and a human with a mysterious noble past.  Subvert any of those and you will get attention, at least momentarily.  There are formulas that we fill in—when we get lazy—and we have to be honest about such things occasionally making it into print and diluting the quality pool.  By the same token, the critics need to be careful about what they label as tropes or clichés, and be aware of subtle reworkings of such things, and they need to be held accountable.  One of my Fiction instructors in a previous life refused to comment on a workshop piece of mine because I had used “Kirk” as a placeholder name for a character, and his knee-jerk response was, “Oh, this is a Star Trek pastiche.”  That’s irresponsible—and inaccurate, in that case—criticism, but it happens.  But, on the other hand, as another of my Fiction profs once said, “Genre writing can be hard to do well, but there’s nothing worse than when it isn’t done well.  There’s nothing as bad as bad science fiction.”

Remedies?  Take heart, read some of what Harold Bloom has written about Edgar Allan Poe and realize critics may in fact have no idea what the rest of the world thinks.  It is clear, after much whining on my part, that the powers that be at Stonecoast think some of us pop fic people can learn from mainstream fic mentors, and vice versa, so maybe that’s the real revolutionary step.  Maybe we should get over our labels—and I’m looking at everybody here.  I would say we should all march down to the local Barnes and Noble and move all the genre fiction into the “Fiction and Literature” stacks, but one of my best friends manages a B&N, so that would be bad.  The next time someone asks what you write, just tell them, “Stories, good stories.”

Or maybe, “Genius shit that would blow your mind.”  Your choice.

Something has come over me in the aftermath of Stonecoast Winter Residency 2008: The Nor’easter (And why are we apostrophe-ing the “th” out of that?  Is it some sort of colloquial pronunciation issue?)

Last summer I was all giddy with the high of being among likeminded creative types,a nd spoke far and wide of the glories of the program.

And I didn’t really write.

I was late on all my deadlines, dragged my feet, complained about what I wanted to write, complained about genres, complained about subgenres, had a mental breakdown, dug out old work and revised it for the infinite-teenth time…

It really kind of sucked, from the creative end of things, especially when my peers were LJ-ing about all their breakthroughs and growth.

Now guess what?

My turn!

Through last night, I’ve cranked out over 15000 words of fiction since January 21.  Chapter two of my novel, the beginning of chapter three, and an entirely new short piece. 

Of course, I’m not gainfully employed, and I only spend a moment or two each day finding out things like what Buffy character I am.  But I still manage to watch American Idol and keep semi-abreast of both ESPN and CNN.

It’s just like, whoa, dude, motivation!

For reference sake, my personal goals this semester include: Chapters 1-10 of the novel (120-150 pages?), 4-5 new short pieces (including workshop stuff) (80-100 pages?), finishing the novella I started (40-50 pages?), plus annotations for my kick ass reading list, and revisions from last semester so I can get another story or two out making the rounds.

Yep, that’s 240-300 pages of fiction.

And I’ve got about 45 pages taken care of already.

Okay, I feel it is acceptable to say it now: I am a writer.

End brag.

Well, for starters, where I'm not is under several inches of snow.  That was Thanksgiving.  And again on Sunday.  In Texas.  Yes, Texas.

So the end of the first Stonecoast semester is rapidly approaching, a quarter of my MFA under my belt.  And what do I have to show for it?  Well, in an apt case of you-get-out-of-it-what-you-put-into-it, not much.  I cannot point to a single way in which my writing improved this semester.  If anything, my original assumptions were reinforced.  I'm good, but not quite there.  NPQ--near publishable quality--as my MA adviser would put it.

Two submissions (F&SF and Cemetery Dance), two rejections.  I feel less of a need to publish short fiction, however.

In fact, I have completely purged all impetus towards horror fiction from my writing.  Were I able to do so, I would forget that I had ever mentioned the Great Old Ones, as much of a caricature as I had become.  

Now, however, I am adrift, genre-wise.

My mentor could not have been better.  He let me work through all of my bitching and moaning, every moment of self-doubt and "why do I care?" angst, all the while pushing me gently in the direction I needed to go.

What did I produce?  Thus far, two new short stories, another rewrite of a play, and two alternate openings for my novel.  My final packet will be a further excursion into said novel.

For workshops, the perhaps stillborn opening of another play, and a director's cut version of an essay that ended up in my MA thesis.

So, really, for new new work, we have two short stories, a bit of a play, and progress on my novel.

I'll take it.

My annotations, rambling reflections on texts that led me into surprising territory that I had not expected to explore--conclusions arrived at wholly unexpected--may prove to be the more meaningful output of the semester.  I wrote 3000 words of annotation just today.

I got a cat.  He's driving me crazy at the moment.

I still don't know if I'm going to go the distance at Stonecoast--the cost to benefit ratio is a little steep--or just jump to my PhD instead.  If I can overlap and do both for a year, I may do so just so I can say I did it.

But anyway.

The best advice from my mentor all semester?  And I quote:

Kimball’s first rule of writing: Get your butt in your favorite chair.

That, my friend, is the magic potion. Sit. It’s a remarkably effective cure for the "not yet dance." Now type. Don’t ever forget this. 

SIT.

TYPE.