Adieu

(“Adieu” comes from Old French and was originally “Dieu vous commant” which means ‘I commend you to God.’ If you were wondering. Google is a wonderful friend.)

This is it. This is my last blog post. I begin my writing adventure (and race!) on Sunday, november 1st at 12:01AM. Tomorrow, though, my wonderful wife has the day off of work. So I’m vanishing after this evening, will spend tomorrow enjoying her company and my son’s. I’ll make my preparations, tuck away the books I have scattered around the house, do all the little bits I’ll be doing to keep myself away from the world, while I write.

Due to the fickle nature of Mr. Internet, you may all even forget I exist before I get back, but I hope not. Anyway, if you do, I’ll just turn up and reinsert myself.

I’m terribly excited for this grand new experiment, and more than a bit nervous. No internet, no books, no television watching by myself (what little I did of that), no video games, no text messages, and so forth. In essence, nothing much beyond 1) the Novel 2) the notebook of Novel notes.

the reason I’m nervous is, I’ve never gone without books before. That’s scary. AND because I’m doing this “until I’m done,” rather than a week, or a month, or whatever. That’s a bit frightening. And thrilling.

So that’s that. I was going to do a rather long post (and I got 1,200 words further into it than this), but I couldn’t finish it. It’s no word of a lie to say I’m exhausted, it’s after midnight, and I can’t think enough to write further on this. So instead, I’m afraid I’m just going to bed.

Adieu, Adieu, to you and you and you.

 

Okay, America…

…seriously.

So first we have energy drinks. The little red bull cans, and then shortly thereafter, the little Amp cans, all of them like little adrenaline shots, but without the needle into the heart. They tasted like, er, chemical runoff (Godzilla Pee was how I described Amp to a co-worker drinking it. He was so appreciative).

Then we STEPPED IT UP with bigger cans of amp, and Monster drinks and Rock Star drinks and stuff, so now we have these really huge cans of super-caffeinated chemical runoff.

That was already pretty silly (says the guy who is not a fan of energy drinks). But where it gets absurd, and where it hits the point where we need to go “Okay, folks. Just…go get some sleep and drink some fruit juice, you’ve gone off the deep end…”

Is when a product like this appears on the market:

 

Had too many energy drinks?? Can’t sleep? Nneneeedd tttooo unnnnwiiiindnddd a litttleleee????////

Well now there’s an ANTI-ENERGY DRINK.

As I said before, sometimes there isn’t a big enough “WTF” in the world for this stuff.

(Plus, the notion of HYPING MYSELF UP with energy drinks and then CALMING MYSELF DOWN with another drink just seems like a sure fire way to make my heart go “I quit…”)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Well Naturally

I mentioned, in an e-mail just now, that I was sleeping on the couch tonight. Not because my wife and I have had a fight, but because there’s SOMETHING in the air that is currently causing me to snore almost deafeningly. So it’s either smother me with a pillow, or kick me out onto the couch.

Anyway that’s neither here nor there. What the point is, is that Google Ads, noting that I mentioned snoring, gave me a google ad.

I always pay attention to Google Ads. I get to see some of the funniest and weirdest stuff following Google Ads.

and if you don’t believe me, look at what Google Ads recommends I do to stop my snoring.

Yeah.

A DIDGERIDOO WILL CURE WHAT AILES YA

There isn’t a big enough “WTF” in the world for some of this stuff.

And thus, I go to bed.

ADDENDUM: And then I scrolled down that page I linked to a little bit, and I spotted this picture, and I had to share.

I can’t wait to get my Didgeridoo for Snoring and look like this guy. It’s a dream come true for me.

 

Just gibber, really

Well, I got about thirty pages into “Jurassic Park” by Michael Crichton, and gave up.

I never give up on books intentionally. I never go “This book is beneath me and I will now set it aside!” I just put it down and don’t feel a compulsion to pick it up again.

It’s the opposite of a book like “Heart-Shaped Box” by Joe Hill, where you pick it up once, and can’t put it down until you’re done without getting the shakes.

I just couldn’t get into it. I enjoyed Crichton’s book while reading it, but there was nothing to draw me back. He doesn’t write compelling or interesting characters or people.  It’s very much “Bestseller” fare, of the Clive Cussler, Dan Brown variety (well, better than that, mind you).

I can definitely see why it compels and why people read a billion copies it. It’s a good book. It just couldn’t hold me.

I also stopped reading the Dan Simmons “Crook Factory” book. And again, not through any failure in the book itself. It’s a good book. I think the Drood-Ilium-The Terror-Olympos Simmons feast I’ve been having of late has actually overloaded me for a moment. So I’m holding onto the rest of Olympos and “The Crook factory” (and my newly bought copy of Hyperion, which I haven’t read) until I get back from my Writing Adventure.

…

This Writing Adventure stuff is gonna be interesting. I’ve never gone off all this stuff “until the book is done.” And I’ve never gone off reading for ANY reason. But now, the onyl things I’ll be doing really are 1) writing the book and 2) writing notes about the book.

I’m NOT going to be entering or competing or involved with National Novel Writing Month in any fashion (except that it will be November, and I will be writing a novel). It’s a big fun event, but it’s never particularly appealed to me. I’ve never felt the urge to sign up for it. So I guess I shall be a novel writing month all of my own.

I WILL be competing in one fashion. Kristine and I will be dueling word counts through the month of November. We do it every now and then, particularly when we’re both stuck in Writing Slow Motion. And since we’ll be talking primarily in snail mail letters, it’ll be a slow Motion exchange of word counts and insults, presumably.

…

Did I mention the results of my wife’s ultrasound here? I don’t think I did.

Well, anyway: Tzinski 3.0 will ALSO be a boy, just like Tzinski 2.0 was.

Awful lotta boys in this house. We outnumber my wife and one girl kitty by quite a lot. If there’s a cosmic moral to draw from that, I’ve got no idea what it is.

So now we have to think up another set of boy’s names. The last one was hard enough to name! So this one is going to wind up being called “Xavier Magneto Tzinski” for sure.

Or Igor.

Right. I should go get something done, shouldn’t I?

*waves*

 

Four Minutes And Thirteen Seconds of Beauty

Tell me this just doesn’t make you happier. It makes me grin every time I see it. It’s at the end of the wonderful Bill Bailey’s comedy show “Tinselworm.” And it’s not comedy, this bit. It’s just the sheer joy of a group of musicians together.

 

What’s About to Happen

I have a PLAN. Which, according to Shepard Book, is maybe not better than having a Way, but I’ll have to run with what I’ve got.

This is the plan, in short:

I’m currently reading “The Crook Factory” by Dan Simmons and “Jurassic Park” by Michael Crichton (because I have two ladies with good taste in my life who declare I should read him, so ever-trusting, I’m giving him a whirl. I can’t bring myself to like Michael Crichton as a human being, and I don’t think I can ever forgive him for “E.R.” but…I can see why this book sold loads. It is compelling.)

Anyway. I’m reading those two, and am early on in both.

When I finish reading those two, I’m going to go into a Novel Writing Mode. What’s going to happen is, I’m going to go completely off the internet. I’ll communicate with some people via snail mail, with handwritten letters and everything. AND I’ll be not reading any more books, which is the hardest bit for me. I’ll also add into it a change in my schedule. Either staying up late (which, after a day full of toddler, doesn’t always work), or getting up at 5:00 AM or so, to add work hours into my day. I’m basically going to retreat from everything that isn’t a novel called “Save Us”.

And I’m going to stay in this form of isolated retreat until the book’s done.

And then, I’ll read freely, I’ll come back online, I’ll do short stories and articles solely for awhile. Go back to sleeping until a luxurious 7:00 AM. All that jazz.

The book’s gotta get done, and I don’t actually know if this is the way to do it, but my instincts seem to think it’s a good idea. And so do those two nice ladies-with-taste I mentioned above.

So, that’s what’s gonna happen.

I’ll have heaps of short stories send out to publishers before I leave, so I may reappear to briefly check in, if I’m told that someone’s bought something and I have contracts that need taking care of, edits that need looking over, and all that jazz. But otherwise…poof.

Fortunately, due to the memory span of the internet, you won’t miss me much. I’ve heard it said that Los Angeles is a thirty-minute-town (everything is thirty minutes away, or coming up in thirty minutes, and if you’re thirty minutes in the past, you’re forgotten). If that’s true, I’m afraid the internet’s got a much shorter attention span.

When I’m back, I’ll have a shiny new book.

It’s not happening quite yet though. I’ve got stuff to sort out and tend to. So it’s not happening until I finish reading these two books. November 1st, possibly? (Which means I’ll be writing a novel alongside all the National Novel Writing Month folks, even though I won’t be technically competing in that thing)

(or will I? Hm.)

I read fast, so those two books won’t take me long. but we’ve got a bit. And I’m sure I’ll blog before then.

This is just a record, so that when someone asks “you remember that Peter guy…? Me neither. But someone mentioned him. Whatever happened to him?”

And now…I go do dishes!

 

Possibly Zen

There’s something funny and magical about…

A crazy Jesus-nutter standing on a small hill, on a college campus, with a big sign and some bibles, preaching to the students as they walk by, going on about God knows what (and I suspect that God is up there going “What…the hell, dude…? Is this guy one of OURS? I didn’t think so.”)

That’s not the funny magical bit.

The funny magical bit is the irate art student, or students, who come out to argue with the crazy preacher guy.

The funny magical bit, therefore, is a group of students who look homeless and — thanks to various substances — are not actually on this planet…arguing against someone who isn’t even on THEIR planet, and who can’t touch bottom with a ten foot pole.

Tell me, grasshopper, what is the importance of new Crazies Debating?

Anyway, it’s only funny and magical if you’re at a good walking pace, and you smile in amusement and then keep on moving. I suspect if I’d actually stopped, it would have ended with my teeth in someone’s throat.

But why would I stop? It’s cold outside! Geeze!

…

I finished reading “Ilium” over the past two days, in marathon reading sessions of hundreds of pages each. The book left me breathless and stunned, on a cliffhanger of sorts, and now I’m finding it hard to get into another book. I just want to read the follow-up book “Olympos,” and keep going.

I love that no matter how much I’ve read over the years, I can still come across new untouched authors whom I get into and find myself going “How did I LIVE without reading you!”

Dan Simmons is definitely one of those. Poppy Z. Brite and her amazing New Orleans restuarant books are another.

Books. You can’t beat ‘em. Even when you put them on a Kindle and take away the mother-lovin’ page numbers…you can’t beat books.

 

Wakka? Wakka?

If you go to major authors — either alive, or dead and classical — for advice, what you mostly get are a few very short sentences on the matter, because frankly, that’s all the advice that needs to be given. (By contrast, you can go on the internet and find buckets of people ready to shovel mounds of writing advice down your throat, most of it dubious, but never mind). The advice tends to be pretty simple when from the working, busy, Authors.

It tends to be “Read a lot” and “Write a lot.” And that’s about it.

But there’s one really interesting detail added to the “read a lot” category, which is on my mind, because I had it reiterated at me this morning by Ernest Hemingway

And it is: Read the classics. Read your betters. Read the giants of writing. And by doing so, you’ll know where your competition is. He pointed out that there’s nothing in writing to do but write something utterly new, or else try to better those who came before you and are now dead. It’s partially why he used such interesting boxing metaphors when talking about writing (“I went six rounds with Tolstoy today,” for example).

I think it’s true enough. I always worry slightly about writers I meet who just seem to read the lowest-common-denominator fiction they can find (it can be fun, but it shouldn’t be all you read…it’d be like being a chef, but you’ve only ever eaten Twinkies). (And another note: I worry about THOSE writers, but I’m utterly baffled and astonished by writers who DON’T particularly seem to read. You’re not gonna accomplish a lot as a writer if you aren’t reading, and reading a LOT).

Anyway. I’ve heard that advice before, and I’ve never minded it, because I’ve read an awful lot of classic, giant, amazing literature. I was rather lucky in that regard, in my schooling growing up. I had an unusually large emphasis on reading, and literature at that. I was reading “Hunchback of Notre Dame” rather earlier than anyone around me might have been required to (and thank god I did: the effect that Victor Hugo had on me was immense. And then I went on to read “Les Miserables” which to this day, floors me).

But there’s so many classic works I haven’t read. And I own most of ‘em. So I’m gonna dig into ‘em, en masse. And I’m gonna go back and re-read. And why not? I wouldn’t mind reading Moby Dick again. Or anything by Jack London (that man was amazing). And then we’ll go from there.

I’m going to need to find new copies of Guy de Maussipiant books, because mine — a gift from the rather-neat-himself Lucien Spelman — are from the 1800’s and are definitely not in reading condition.

But first, I have to finish what I’m reading. Which is, “The Cosmic Serpent,” and “Ilium” by Dan Simmons. I finished “The Time Machine” the day after I started reading it, because frankly, that is a teensy little book.

So that’s my reading life, or gonna be. I don’t know if it’s interesting to you, but what the hell.

…

In other news, it snowed quite a lot this past weekend. All Minnesotans were caught off-guard, not expecting to have to kvetch about the early arrival of snow for another month or so. But we got into gear quickly and kvetched like we were expecting it.

What I love about the early snows in a college town is watching the kids who moved here and aren’t expecting winter. It doesn’t matter how much you warn them “it does get cold here, and it snows a lot,” they have a rather less extreme idea of what this means than what it ACTUALLY winds up meaning. so you see them stumbling around the Mall, or the Campus, looking shell-shocked and terrified of the outside world, in utter disbelief that the world can actually turn into this.

(Except for the nice man I met from Labrador, Canada, who is pretty unphased by our winter. But then, if I lived in Labrador, Canada, I’d be untouched by wimpy Minnesota weather too…)

…

Right. I have four short stories sitting in my head, backing up. I need to go work on them.

 

’struth! Would you bleedin’ credit it!

Last night, the world got a bit hazy. I looked out the window and discovered that it was snowing, for the first time this year. Not just small dainty glittering flakes coming down, but big, thick flakes falling hard and making the world go white.

I woke up this morning to find the temperature at around twenty-two degrees,  Fahrenheit, with three inches of snow on everything, and one solid sheet of ice on all the sidewalks and roads. On my way to the car, (which is in the underground garage, but what the hell, I took the long outside route to revel in some weather) I took a running start and sliiiiiiiiid across the icy sidewalk.

I love the early snowfalls. Right up through the end of December. From there on, it just turns into a cold, monochromatic slog toward spring. I dislike that as much as the long, sticky-hot days of mid-summer. It’s weather I crave.

…

Exams swallowed my time the past week or two, but I’m back and alive. I’ve sent all the e-mails that needed sending, I’m all caught up, and I’m writing a short story happily.

And I am reading, at the moment, “Ilium” by Dan Simmons (still, but I’m taking it slow; it’s a long, magnificant book) and “The Time Machine” by H.G. Wells.

I enjoyed H.G. Wells more when I was young and read him. the older I get, the more and more I’m aware of the long political-position diatribes that he goes into. Not so bad in “Time Machine,” but it becomes nearly the whole of the book in later things like “Food of the Gods” and “In the Days of the Comet.” Still, it doesn’t hurt to re-read.

I have this amazing “Complete Sherlock Holmes Stories” volume, which has the stories formatted into newspaper-esque columns, and has all of the original illustrations from when the stories were appearing in The Strand Magazine. It’s glorious to behold. I think I might dig into that next.

Oh, I’m also reading something called  ”The Cosmic Serpent” which I mentioned before, and I’m enjoying it no end. Wonderfully clear-written, engaging science. I recommend it if you can find it.

I seem to have wandered off into 19th Century fiction. But that’s all right. There are worse things.

Right. Off to write and do a little reading

 

Books Bought’n

I’ve got essays written. Now I have to study like hell. The exam is tomorrow. I will have to able to write two of these essays usefully from memory. instead of studying all day today, we ran errands.

I am not ready at all. It shall not go well. I Am Nervous. And stressed. And dreading it.

Anyway.

While in the mall, heading toward Target, we passed Borders, and I glanced at their bargain bins and wound up buying two books. Yeah, like I need more books. But I can’t help myself. So I thought I’d tell you what I bought.

…

The Cosmic Serpent by Jeremy Narby. An anthropology book. I have no idea what it’s about. It seems to be about indiginous knowledge and the use of hallucinogens in primitive cultures…but your guess is actually as good as mine. It doesn’t have a back description.

and

The Coyote Road: Trickster Tails edited by Ellen Datlow & Terri Windling.

A collection of Faerie short stories. It looks well and thoroughly wonderful. The first volume of this trilogy of stories was The Green Man and the second was the amazing The Fairy Reel (from which title, combined with the words “hurdy gurdy,” I was inspired to write a short story called Over the Hills and Far Away, if you’re wondering). Terrific bunch of authors in this one. And a cover by, who else, Charles Vess. The perfect artist for all things faerie.

…

Right. Dinner is in the oven. And I have so much work to do tonight, to try and get these essays in my head. There’s a pretty good chance I may get to sit down in class tomorrow and just go completely blank. That’ll be fun.

Oddly, while that’s what is stressing me out…what’s making me grumpy is that focusing on this stuff means I’m not reading, and I’m not writing. Ah well. Tuesday after-class, I intend to write-and-finish a short story. And then it’s back to full speed.

He says, hopefully.