Really, just two passages I’ve stumbled onto these last couple of days. The first is from Eric Miles Williamson, a guy I really respect because he can seriously write. On the editorial board of some mystery-press a couple of years ago, I read a book of his in manuscript which I still think of just a whole lot, and wish I’d kept my copy of. Can’t even remember the title of it, even. But it really got to me. Anyway, East Bay Grease is of course what he’s known for, but none of that’s what I’m doing right now, here. This is all I’m doing — pulling a chunk from this piece he did for the LA Times:
Can’t find the message now, but I remember somebody asking in my inbox in some webmail on some pirate connection over the last three weeks or so where that old “T is for Title” post was. Well, just dug through the database for a ridiculous time, but found it, revived it, here.
Also, in looking for it, I noticed that that “Randomer & Randomer” post was jacking up the format for the whole site. So, it’s fixed now. Less space-efficient, but all in all happier too, so I can’t complain too much.
Misjudged when Monk was coming on last night somehow, so had an hour to kill, and, yep, accidentally started writing a new novel. Bad thing too is that my new MSWord has this running wordcount on the bottom. First time I’ve had that in a few years, now. Anyway, current count, 4,097. And I’m really and truly and honestly going to try to keep this one under two hundred pages. Already having just all kinds of fun with it. As for the title, content, all that, I’m all superstitious again, after giving that all away with Ledfeather and then it taking me nearly two months to write, which is, like, generations for a grasshopper, I think, and eternity to a fly, so, instead, just a little math problem with pictures, which, if you already know the novel like I do, just gives everything away
A few years late weighing in here, but sometimes it takes a while for things to click. Anyway, yeah, everybody hates Star Wars 1-3. Maybe not because of what or how they are, but as compared to 4-6. And of course a lot of that’s just how nostalgia’s about the worst beer goggles out there. Not to say anything bad about 4-6, though. Far from it. I think they just have the big advantage in that they do what Vonnegut and Gaimain and about every good writer says to do, when making a story: start as close to the end as possible. Another way to say that is that all the set-up’s just really boring, in any story. We don’t need the senate minutes. And yeah, it’s cool to see all the core cast when they were young, but, too, that’s just another form of nostalgia, I think.
Never been just all over Bukowski’s stuff — no real excuse, aside from lack of taste, I suppose — but this is about as good a poem-reading as I’ve heard/seen.
Too, like everybody’s been saying, yep, 3.75 million for a vampire trilogy. Or, like everybody’s been bemoaning? That too. Hopefully not because of ‘vampires,’ though, or ‘literary.’ I mean, this is the dream, right? So maybe the moaning is because of jealousy. Or because, as a friend mentioned, that’s a hundred other worthy books which now won’t be published. But to be that one, I don’t know. Don’t think I could turn it down on principle or anything. Too, what I’m excited about this deal for is that, I mean, we’ve got Max Brooks shuttling the zombie where it belongs, into non-fiction, we’ve got Charlie Huston taking the vampire into noirish territory, we’ve Joe Hill taking the haunted house novel on the road and Cormac McCarthy following that road into the postapocalypse, (I’ve yet to hit Raw Shark Texts, so can’t include it here) and then here soon Toby Barlow’ll be revamping (wrong word) the werewolf. It’s a wonderful time to be writing is what I’m saying. I mean, if you’re writing stories that aren’t boring.
Man, except for re-hitting ReAnimator the other day — and maybe even including it — Behind the Mask: the Rise of Leslie Vernon is far and away the best horror I’ve seen all year. Best I’ve seen since Feast, really.* And Feast is that holy kind of good for me. The only time I plan on being this horror-movie happy anytime soon is come fall, when we get the sure-to-be-beautiful All the Boys Love Mandy Lane. Cannot wait for that one.** Though I do suspect I’m going to have to.
or however those cows spell it. Anyway, the new & cool Bust Down the Door and Eat All The Chickens is out*. I’ve got a piece in it, Anthony Neil Smith does, Joey Goebel, and on and on (I’m guessing it’s just vanity or something that I put my name first, there — or, that I know how to type it just really really well).
*far & away the best title of any magazine ever. only contender, even, I think, would be Failbetter.
which is to say the Demon Theory trade paperback’s in the atmosphere. And, according to Amazon (or, the American link), it looks to have gone radioactive. Which I can’t say nearly as cool as The Firm said it, once and forever. Anyway, as to what-all’s different in this one, man, just too much to list here. It’s been re-proofed, re-typeset, just had all kinds of re-stuff done to it. For half the bucks, too.