In 1975 William Golding wrote a review of Paul Fussell’s The Great War and Modern Memory for The Guardian. It’s a very perceptive review (noting something I’ve noticed, that in Fussell’s treatment of his authors ‘a note that can only be called patronising creeps in’; Fussell doesn’t trust his authors to tell the whole truth about the War, which is why he brings in those jarring sections about American absurdists).
This paragraph of the review, about the war poets, is striking, though I don’t agree with it:

On the Western Front, these by no means major poets experienced so violent, indded so literally explosive, a dissociation of all the elements of normal living that they passed their time, emotionally speaking, in a kind of white-hot plasma. There, the satiny irrelevance of the Georgian poetasters was burned away and the forked creatures screamed the unspeakable. The age of irony had begun.

I’m currently reading Merryn Williams’s new anthology The Georgians 1901-1930. I’m writing a review of it that will appear elsewhere, so won’t say much about it here, except that one of the things the anthology does brilliantly is show how the best war poetry grew out of the Georgian method (intelligibility, avoidance of archaism, traditional form). Hardy’s example inspired the Georgians, and it was Hardy that Sassoon read voraciously while in the trenches.
Merryn Williams’s selection goes beyond the poets included in Marsh’s anthologies to claim other good poets for the Georgian tradition – notably Charlotte Mew, Wilfred Owen and Ivor Gurney. The latter two dominate the last third of the anthology, and show that far from being irrelevant, it was Georgian poetry that gave them the language and techniques through which the War could be described.

Today was very productive. I wrote two chapters for my online novella:

http://ablackandwhitecomposition.wordpress.com/

I hope to have another chapter for tomorrow.

Peace and Blessings!

600 Hours of Edward just received a wonderful review from Gavin Bollard’s excellent blog, Life With Aspergers.

Check it out here.

Now that Gavin has had his say, I guess I can reveal this: Of the many review outlets where Riverbend has placed the book, this one filled me with the most anxiety. Gavin is an Aspergian (Aspie for short), he knows more about the syndrome than I do, and if my book had struck a wrong note, he certainly would have held it up to the light (as well he should). I’m gratified that the book passed muster with him.

Here’s a taste of the review:

600 hours of Edward is an absolutely fascinating book. If you’re an aspie, you’ll see yourself in it. If you’re married to an aspie or if you’re caring for one, you’ll get a fascinating glimpse of their thought processes.

Discussion Topic: KSSF72209 Doc B

Why are Stephanie Meyer’s novels so addictive ?

Jane Austen (the creator of the modern romance novel) introduced the general reading public to the addictive nature of romance novels. Her readers literally became addicted to Mr. Darcy and Ms. Bennett.

But Stephanie Meyer’s “Twilight Saga” novels are even more addictive than Ms. Austen’s were.

The reason Stephanie’s novels “seem” addictive, is because “they really are” addictive.

All addictions are caused by a release of endorphins in the human brain, brought on by either a specific activity, or a specific medication.

Good addictions, such as exercising, or reading a Stephanie Meyer novel, also are created by a release of endorphins. And that is what makes them so addictive.

Edward becomes an addiction for Bella, Bella for Edward, and both can become addictions for Stephanie’s readers.

Falling in love causes a tremendous release of endorphins. When Ms. Meyer’s readers are deprived of their daily endorphin “rush” their minds naturally craves more.

It is common to hear one of her readers say, “I have enjoyed reading a romance novel every week for years. But when I read “Twilight” it literally knocked me off my feet.”

Or: “As soon as I finished it, I felt like I had to read it again.

Typical romance novels inform us about love affairs. And this causes a small release of endorphins.

But Meyer’s novels can actually causes her reader’s subconscious minds to fall in love. And falling in love, and reading about love are two entirely different things.

Rather than causing the typical small endorphin release, that most romance novels produce, Stephanie’s can cause a huge release of endorphins.

In Psychology we refer to the mental phenomenon Austen and Meyer’s novels produce as, a “reverse transference.”

Meyer’s works so draws you into her characters’ psyches, that your subconscious mind actualy undergoes a transference phenomenon. And as you continue to read, eventually your subconscious mind, interprets Edward, Bella , and Jacobs feelings as your very own.

For example in a regular romance novel readers may feel disappointed if the main characters relationship fails.

But some “New Moon” readers report being so distraught, that they can’t stop crying for days at a time. Their subconscious minds aren’t reading about Bella and Edward’s suffering, their subconscious minds really are suffering.

When a reader comes to the end of a typical romance novel, he or she might feel a ting of sadness. But finishing a “Saga Novel” means saying good by to people you have grown to love. And as Jung (the father of modern psycology) would say “you sense a part of your self dying, as if you were saying good bye to an actual part of yourself.”

Now how did Ms. Meyer accomplish her little piece of literary magic.

It took her several steps.

First she so vividly depicts Edward, Bella and Jacob, that her readers begin to see them as real people.

Then she endows them with such endearing character traits, that the reader’s subconscious mind sees them as lovable.

And finally she takes her readers very deeply into her characters minds. She exposing their strengths, weaknesses, vulnerabilities, and humanity to the degree that her readers actually identify with them. And that is when the subconscious transference occurs.

Stephanie’s use of vulnerable human statements, that we often say to ourselves, are what cause the transference.

Examples:

“It was more than pathetic, it was unhealthy.”

“Not her.”

“You are my life now.”

“I would rather die than stay away from you.”

“The lion fell in love with the lamb..stupid lamb..masochistic lion.”

“It makes me anxious to be away from you.”

“Hopelessly, irrevocably in love.”

And by doing that her reader’s subconscious mind’s final hurtle is overcome. The reader’s subconscious quits thinking, that is exactly how I would have felt. And starts thinking “How could Edward have deserted me !” or “You are my life now.”

Thousands of Meyer’s readers have reported, that having read all of Meyer’s works they desperately want to find something else like them. But sadly there is nothing quite like her works presently ouy there.

In her novel, “Pride and Prejudice,” Jane Austen taught the general reading public how powerful transference can be. She did so causing them to fall in love with Elizabeth and Darcy. It seems only right then that Ms. Austen should also be the one to warn the public of the risks. She did so in her novel “Northanger Abby.”

Through Henry she tells us:

“The risk (of transference) is not in the (novels) we choose to read, but in how we read them. The power of (fiction) is it’s ability to deceive, but that is also where the danger lies. For fiction and reality are as different as air and water. And if you confuse the two, you will drown. Unless of course you are a fish. But if you are, (beware) for then the danger lies in the air.”

Reading Stephanie’s works cause the reader to run the risk of saying good bye to people they have grown to love. But it is better to have loved and lost, than to not have loved at all.

Your friend,
Doc B http://tinyurl.com/kpgvsr

If any of our readers have any specific comments or questions, I look forward to discussing them.
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Permalink Reply by Carli Lamb on August 24, 2009 at 7:30am
Fantastic. My mom is currently working on a teen romance novel. All my friends are wrapped up already in the characters. Who knows maybe this is the next romance that will be transferic, if that is a word.

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Permalink Reply by GemmaJ on August 24, 2009 at 10:08am
I thnk that she gives her character aspects that everyone can relate to..

If anyone has watched friends, I dont think that you can compare yourself to anyone character you rarely find that you are just one. I think that it happens in the books to even though, most compare themselves to Edward or Bella with the exception of yourself and Carlise, but i can compare myself to Bella, Alice, Edward.

Some of it is the fact that we have experienced at least one aspect of their relationship, the breaking up, infatuation even a love triangle and also fighting for something we believe in.

My boss read the books to she said that “not much is going on(wrong there is loads), but i had to carry on reading to see if thay get their happy ending”

Could this be what draws into Pride and Prejudice, yes i do, if it is a well written love story, you will always want to see the happy ending

Gem

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Permalink Reply by Doc B M.D. on August 24, 2009 at 10:39am
Delete Dear Gemma,

You are exactly right !!!!!.
Why was Stephanie able to so perfectly write Bella, and Edwards stories. Because psychological she is both Bella and Edward.

And why could Austen so perfectly write Darcy and Elizabeth’s stories, Because psychologically she really is both Darcy and Elizabeth,

You are right again (Jung the father of modern Psychology) said parts of us make up almost every character. Your observation that YOU ARE EDWARD AND BELLA AND ALICE is genius. (as usual… trust me you really are blessed with a gift for seeing things)

You Identify much more with one, or two of them, more than the others but you are ALL of them.

I identify with Carlyle most, but then Edward,and then Bella, then Esme then Alice the Emmett. I find very little in common with James, but I am sure there is a drop of him somewhere in me.

That was Jung’s genius breakthrough.(Jung supplanted Freud as being the most respected opinion in Psychology) Why am I not surprised that our Gemma instinctively understood it.

Great observation Gemma,

Your friend,
Doc B

Those who read this blog know that I am on high alert, actively pursuing my manuscript deadline, and getting concerned at the quickly passing days. Over the months, I’ve tried many things to get myself there. I’ve tried new schedules. I’ve blocked myself from Twitter for short bursts (some of you may remember the Twitter Break of Nov. 1-7). I’ve banned myself from Facebook for more short bursts. I’ve made a new personality on my Macbook called “Nova the Writer” who has no access to any websites except Pandora and blip.fm. I’ve even made great sacrifices to write full-time because I knew I couldn’t make this deadline otherwise…

And then I’ve cheated. And made excuses.

I’m afraid to say that the above concessions may not be enough. My mind feels crowded. My insecurities flare. And that deadline is only getting closer. I began thinking that maybe I should do another Twitter and Facebook break for the month of December.

Then, today, I saw Sara Zarr’s announcement that she’ll be taking a hiatus from social-networking sites starting tomorrow, Sunday, Nov. 29 through January 6. Laurel Snyder is in too. And they’re not the only ones.

Listen, I don’t want to do this. I want to be one of those strong people who can balance everything and handle the world and write brilliantly at the same time. I’m not that person.

So I’ll be staying off Twitter and Facebook starting tomorrow and ending in the New Year. I will be trying. Making a solid attempt—and here I’ve announced it publicly, so you know now. You know.

I’ll still be:

• Blogging here about writing when the mood hits, just not obsessively
• Updating DaniNoir.com and my main website if there is any news
• Checking and sending email. You can reach me at: nova [at] novaren [dot] com

I will still be sending out the DANI NOIR postcards, as I teased on Twitter, and I plan to do that this week. If you want one, email me your mailing address. I have a few left.

I wish you a calm, productive end to 2009. When I see you next on Twitter and Facebook, I hope to have the full first draft in the hands of my agent, as promised, and a new drive to get it ready for my editor on Feb. 1, as promised, and contracted, which is scarier than a promise, and—most of all—I hope to talk to you again with a clear, unjumbled head.

Now… is anyone else taking the plunge?

I’ve been making an effort to spend a little less time on the internet and watching TV so that I could catch up on my November reading. As extra incentive I joined Thankfully Reading Weekend. It’s helped a bit, and I actually finished the second part of Kristin Lavrensdatter today and am slightly less than 200 pages away from the end of The Savage Detectives.

I started reading vigorously at the beginning of this past week and tore through a large chunk of both my books, but by Wednesday I was slightly derailed. A two day Thanksgiving celebration kind of got in my way, but making dinner for my friends was very rewarding and I did some great bonding with one friend in particular who was my right hand..girl…(or I was hers – we plotted and piloted Thanksgiving dinner together.)

I had to spend most of yesterday recovering, (cooking is hard work!) and I intended to relax by reading of course. But…instead I watched (blush) Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back, G.I. Joe: Rise of the Cobra, and VH1’s countdown of the 100 Greatest Hard Rock Songs… Yeah. I’m embarrassed.

Today I got back on track though and during a slow shift at the store I blasted through the last 100 pages of Kristen part 2, The Wife. I have all day tomorrow according to Thankfully Reading Weekend, and until Dec. 2nd to finish the Savage Detectives according to it’s due date, so I think ultimately I’m in good shape.

My review of Kristin Lavrensdatter’s latest escapades (or lack thereof) coming soon. For the moment, I’ve got more reading to do.

I love watching these, plus Mannheim Steamroller is the best!

In which Gard’s young men test their tolerance of paing against the black knight and a young man takes his first step toward destiny…

The Duels Begin

The next day was full of gossip and speculation as to who the Black Knight was. Some thought it was a vampire come to take revenge on the town for the death of Count Lycon. Others believed he was just a man in an outfit and that the only great quest he was on was one for attention. Miss Crabtree, the town gossip, told her friends that she believed it was one of the militia’s cadets pulling an immature prank. Unfortunately when it came to Miss Crabtree (despite her usually being wrong) the wives of Gard always took her version to be fact. Whatever the explanation answers were about to be discovered that night…or so they hoped.

“I’m going to bring that knight to the center of town tied like a beast” Christopher boasted to his friends and the town’s gentry.

Thessaly too was feeling the anticipation of the day. She couldn’t go anywhere without somebody coming up to her saying that her “boyfriend” was the going to be the savior of the town. She smiled and nodded though the thought made her sick. She didn’t know what was worse, people thinking Christopher the town savior or having him referred to as her “boyfriend.” She came home that afternoon hoping to get away from the attention surrounding Christopher. She entered her home and threw herself onto her bed dreaming she was a bird so she could fly away from her troubles. Unfortunately that peace didn’t last long.

“Get up. Get up.” Margaret pestered “You’re going to be late”

“For what?” She asked groggily

“To see Christopher off. Surely you remember that the women always see the soldiers off to battle.”

Thessaly remembered; she just wanted an excuse not to go. She did not want Christopher to cause a scene by announcing an engagement not yet agreed upon. She also didn’t want to see the town ladies feeding his ego as went out to confront some mysterious drifter.

“Mom. How do you think the town will react if Christopher loses?” she asked.

“Thessy, you mustn’t think like that. Christopher is the best man to face this knight. Who else is brave enough or strong enough to stand against it?” Mrs. Rose asked Thessaly. In her heart she had an answer. Michael… she thought to herself.

*********************************************************************

Michael was in his kitchen making a soup and trying to prevent Biff from jumping into the kettle.

“Stay down!” he ordered but the dog didn’t listen “it’ll be ready soon enough.” Biff pouted.

“Hey, there’s no need for that” he scolded the dog “Besides its too hot for you”

Michaels Mother entered the kitchen carrying a couple of vegetables that she had just picked up at the market.

“I see you’ve taken care of dinner” she commented. “Why are you still here? Aren’t you going to wish Christopher good luck?” she asked.

“Actually I was feeling a bit under the weather. So I thought it’d be better if I stayed in and made some chicken soup to feel better.” He answered, lying through his teeth. The truth was he didn’t want to see Christopher getting all the praise. He especially didn’t want to do was see Christopher and Thessaly together. He didn’t want to see Christopher use his newfound fame to propose to Thessaly in public and force her into a marriage she didn’t want. Especially when this was his opportunity to prove he was worthy of her hand.

“Don’t lie to your Mother!” Margaret scolded. “You don’t want to go down there because Christopher’s in the lime light and could use that to profess his love for Thessaly. Am I not correct?” she pressed.

“She’s Good” Michael thought to himself as he got a bowl and poured himself some soup.

“I’m right aren’t I?” she pressed further.

“You’re good” Michael answered between spoonfuls “how did you know?”

“A Mother knows her son.” She sat beside him and grasped his hand. “Look, I know how you feel about her Michael. You can’t hide that from me and I know that you don’t think its fair that her parents want her to be with him and not you. Sometimes when things are at their worst it can only mean that good times are coming. Maybe Christopher will grow tired of Thessaly and find someone else or some new girl might come into your life that will swoop you off your feet or maybe you’ll perform a miracle so great that your reputation will spread far and wide and the Roses will be more than happy to let you have their daughter’s hand. You just don’t know.” She tried reassuring him.

“Mom that speech used to work when I was six, but not now. Don’t tell me you really believe all that?” Michael sarcastically responded.

“Your right I don’t.” She sarcastically retorted back “Just like your birth was always meant to happen after a few failures. Right? Everyone said I couldn’t have a child but eventually after hoping and praying I did.”

“I’m your miracle right?” Michael asked his mother already knowing the answer.

“You’ve been listening to me all these years!” his mother jovially answered kissing the top of his head; to her he was a miracle. “Now get down to the square and wish your comrade luck. If you don’t your father and Sir Francis may give you scrubbing duty.”

“Yes ma’am” he waved goodbye to his mother and Biff, who had just burnt his tongue on the soup.

Thessaly arrived at the tail end of Christopher’s speech. The only parts she heard were about how no evil would hold him back and how he would vanquish it and other pre- battle mish mash. She was uninterested until she caught sight of Michael. They smiled and made faces at each other making fun of Christopher. Then Christopher caught sight of Thessaly.

“My lady” Christopher bid her while offering his hand. She took it reluctantly. “Would you be so kind as to bless me with your kiss?” She closed her eyes and kissed him. Upon opening her eyes Michael was gone.

Michael knew that Christopher didn’t have a chance at beating this knight. It would take a miracle for Christopher to win, “what if he does beat the knight?” his mother’s words about miracles happening echoing in his head. “I would never be able to win Thessaly,” he kept saying to himself. He tried to banish the thoughts from his head but the more he did the more the greater they were. His heart started to ache with worry.

“Where you going there son?” a familiar voice asked from behind.

“Home dad.” he somberly responded.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur asked his son.

“Oh. Nothing.” He answered distantly.

“No, there’s something wrong. You want to tell me what the problem is so I can try to give you some form of guidance or do you want continue being miserable?” He put his arm around his son’s shoulder.

“Its just…I thought that with the arrival of this knight I had an opportunity to prove myself to the Roses and win Thessaly’s hand but instead he chose to face Christopher over me simply because he spoke up first.”

“And you think you’ve lost your one and only chance to win her.” Arthur finished, “Tell me, what makes you think that Christopher is going to win this duel?”

“I don’t know. I was just remembering one of Mom’s speeches about miracles happening.”

“Why do you burden yourself with worries about what hasn’t happened yet my son? Has Christopher come back in victory yet? No, he hasn’t. You do yourself no good thinking about what might happen. You have to live for the moment. The only thing you should think about is how you’re going to beat this knight when it’s your turn. You are going to beat him, right?” He asked his son sternly.

“He doesn’t have a chance!” Michael answered with renewed spirit.

“That’s my boy.” he patted his son on the shoulder. “We better be getting back, your mother has dinner cooking and I hear it’s a good soup.”

Christopher Returns

Mistress Dusk’s shroud brought night and the townsfolk wondered what had become of Christopher. The sound of hooves beating against the ground echoed through the woods getting louder and closer by the second. The Black Knight had returned with Christopher tied across the horses back. The Knight stopped and tossed Christopher into the middle of the crowd.

“If this is the best your town has to offer, a small gang of Halflings could conquer your town. Will anyone else care to prove me wrong? How about you!” the knight pointed to Anthony Winchester, son of Abe Winchester the town miller. “Tomorrow night sundown be there lest you are a coward!” the knight taunted and galloped into the night.

The Challenge Continues

The next day Anthony rode out to face the knight. A short while later he came back tied to the front of the Black Knights horse. This went on for about a week with young men going off and coming back in defeat.

On Friday, Michael was at The River ‘Ale, enjoying a couple of pints with Andrew, Claudius, and Charles. Vincent was the first of their circle of friends to take the knights challenge, which was happening as they spoke.

“You think Vin’s gonna beat him?” Claudius asked everyone.

“He’s probably going to get the worst beating off them all. Knowing him he’s probably gonna resort to throwing rocks.” Charles answered.

“Or is he gonna get curious with the horse and get trampled by it or will he inadvertently be responsible for its escape?” Andrew asked sarcastically.

“Boys, Vince might not be the one to beat the knight but he’s certainly gonna be the one to irritate him the most.” Michael threw in and they raised a cheer to Vincent.            The tavern was bustling with speculation about the knight’s identity.

“I heard its one of them spirits cursed to wander for eternity and stealing the souls of the fallen.” One man said.

“I heard it’s an elf. Glassman’s boy said he fought with the speed and strength of elf magic,” said another.

“I think it’s a fairy”

“Oh pish posh its probably that old Geldolf causing trouble again. You know how he is.”

“Ahhhhhhhhhh, alls ya’s shwrong” he shouted inebriated to the tavern “its one of them………um…ahh………its one of dem ladies from dat island off Tokuma come to conquer the land of men” Dougie shouted from atop a table.

“Dougie, your priceless” Phillip the owner of The River ‘Ale complimented his favorite customer. Everyone else went about they’re business until Miss Crabtree barged in.

“The Knight is back! The Knight is back!” She shouted hysterically. In the blink of an eye the tavern was emptied. Michael and his friends pushed their way to the front of the crowd where Vincent lay unconscious beneath the Knights horse.

“This fool thought he could catch me off guard with a childish contraption” the Knight declared throwing Vincent’s slingshot on top of him.

“Looks like the Knight doesn’t find Vin amusing.” Andrew muttered.

“So…who’s next? How about…”

“Me!” Michael spoke up “I’ll go. Dover Hill dusk tomorrow I’ll be there.”

“You’re impetuous young one. But I like that, I like that. Tomorrow at dusk. Be there.” And with that the Knight rode off.

“Good luck buddy” Andrew patted his friends soldier.

“Don’t go down too quickly” Charles ragged.

“Hey. I don’t see you volunteering” Michael shot back.

“I’m not suicidal.”

Michael ran home excitedly.

Hello!

Ah, it’s feeling really good to finally relax. I hope everyone who celebrates Thanksgiving had a good day! My husband and I were going to deep fry our turkey this year but when we went to dig out the fryer, we realized that we hadn’t exactly cleaned it out after using it two years ago…

Ew.

So despite our attempts to boil, pressure wash, and disinfect that nasty old grease out, we gave up and baked it instead.

My parents came for the holiday, and I got to try a restaurant I’ve been dying to try. Other than that, not much happened…

Book News

I got the Guardian Proof back from my editor! So the new edited Guardian will hopefully be out before Christmas! As you may have seen, the new Feather: Book One is now available! This is the final edit from my lovely and talented editor, and the new cover with photography by Christopher Soehren. He is good with dark and mysterious photography…

I can’t wait to get Guardian out as well. If you’re planning on getting a reading Feather, do wait until the newest version of Guardian comes out! The covers will all correlate, so you’ll know when it’s the right one!

Buy from Amazon Here: Feather (Second Edition, Fully Edited): Book One of the Feather Book Series

Re-Release Beginning November 2009!

FRom: http://blog.zap2it.com/frominsidethebox/2009/11/gamble-on-american-idol-sex-and-the-city-slot-machines.html

If you’re over 21, you can now play slot machines based on two of your favorite shows, “American Idol” and “Sex and the City.”

Both slots were new releases at the 2009 Global Gaming Expo in Las Vegas. In “American Idol,” slot players can trigger a bonus round that lets them become one of three judges — Simon Cowell, Kara DioGuardi or Randy Jackson — and then plays video clips of past contestants, good AND bad.

According to Sphere.com, Paula Abdul was the lone holdout participant even BEFORE she announced she was leaving the show. Innnteresting.

Meanwhile, the “Sex and the City” slot machines are subtitled “Change of a Dress.” Clever, no? They feature bonus rounds that include video clips of all four women plus Mr. Big.

International Game Technology spokeswoman Julie Brown told Sphere, “There’s shoes and purses and lots of bling and big bonuses and the music track, and it’s a very interactive game.”

Speaking of Mr. Big, Chris Noth helped unveil the “Sex and the City” slot machine in Las Vegas. Video below.

The Ph.D. Problem: On the professionalization of faculty life, doctoral training, and the academy’s self-renewal.

* A Little-Known Occupational Hazard Affecting Writers: writing (or wanting to write) outside your field.

* When Great Artists Dry Up.

* Cellphones, Texts, and Lovers, on how technology is or is not reshaping romance in the digital age. I don’t really buy the argument, but I find it suggestive nonetheless.

* James Fallows has a typically nuanced, brilliant series on Obama’s trip to Asia, and especially its Chinese implications.

* Das Keyboard is sponsoring the Ultimate Typing Championship. Do you have the “fiercest typing skills around?” Me neither. But those who do can win $2,000 at the SXSW festival in Austin. The e-mail I got says, “Oh, and don’t forget to sign-up yourself to compete! At a minimum, it’s an opportunity for bragging rights among your friends and co-workers. “

Alas: I’m a relatively slow typist at 50-ish WPM. Usually the problem isn’t typing speed—it’s thinking speed, and I haven’t found a hardware solution for that yet.

* Local Bookstores, Social Hubs, and Mutualization. Like me, Clay Shirky finds it more than a little difficult to believe that cheap hardcover books are bad for readers, even if they might be bad for publishers as they currently exist.

* What the iPod tells us about Britain’s economic future.

* Secret copyright treaty leaks, and it’s bad. Very bad.

* Sunday afternoon at the Shenzhen Public Library. As James Fallows says at the link, “No wonder Shenzhen is on the rise.”

* Gossip Girl might be worth watching again.

* Are too many students going to college?

* Learn your damn homophones.

* No one wants America to be the sole global superpower, but no one wants to share the load.

* I love it: the bookstore Lorem Ipsum is having an “anti-sale.” As they say: “Everyone like’s a sale, right? But does anyone like an anti-sale? We hope so!

What’s an anti-sale, you ask? It’s when nothing in the store is on sale. We’re proud to announce that none of our items are on sale, instead they are for purchase for regular price. We think it’s ground-breaking.”

* Inculcating a Love for Reading: Children’s books that might help repel the armies of electronic distraction.

* From Oxford to Wall Street: what the rising number of Rhodes Scholars in business and finance means. Or, according to actual Rhodes scholar, maybe not.

* Are U.S. Wages Too High?

* Why are some cities more entrepreneurial than others?

* The Writing Habits of Great Authors.

* Hilarious search query of the day that brought someone to The Story’s Story: “bookworms sex.”

If you like fantasy novels, you would have defintely heard about the series of books named ‘Twilight’ by Stephanie Meyer. I, for one, loved reading the first book. I’ve heard about good vampires before, but this storyline was really good . A perfect chahracter like Edward is really a hard one to find. On the looks side, I was pretty sure that the vampire would look lovely, but I was disappointed in the movie. I’m just speaking for myself, but Robert Pattinson just didnt fit in the description of Edward. Moreover, imagining the scenes is better than watching someone act it, because they usually dont express everything written.

The second book, New moon, is good, but not as exciting as the first one, because Bella is mostly consumed in depression and I didnt like the complication that are born in Edward-Bella love story. Actually I might have likes this Jacob character, but since he is just complicating things, I dont favor him much . Bella is the main character in the story, always a damsel in distress, and never wanting another person to suffer because of her, which ofcourse creates most of the confusion in the next book, Eclipse.

Eclipse is better than New moon where we have a vampire fight and a little more of Quilette legends. The fourth book, Breaking Dawn is very good. Its again on a happy note ( well mostly), where Bella weds Edward and they have a beautiful talented girl, nessie. Jake imprints on her. And they have to confront the entire Volturi. They get help from other good Vampires with interesting talents. Overall it is a good one.

The characters I like in this book are ofcourse, Edward, then Carlisle, Bella, Emmet,Charlie and wonderful little Alice.  My friend, Raji, turned my attention to another novel by Stepahnie Meyer, last week. The novel was not completed because the half written manuscript got published illegally on net, somehow. This novel, Midnight Sun, was half of the first book in the series, Twilight, in Edward’s point of view. I was thinking, what would be so interesting as to read a novel all over again ( not that I havent done that ), but to write the same novel again? I started reading it, and got so invovled in it, that I couldnt think of almost anthing else for 2 days ( Thats the crazy me). How wonderful it is to think and see things as Edward does. Being able to hear what anybody thinks.

Edwards musing, showed light on many characters that was not very prominent in the original version. For example, we new Bella was clumsy and she always thought about others, it could be just like someone we know. But to think as adoringly as Edward did, make us feel she is something really rare. And there is more description of my favorite Emmett in this half written novel. On the while I really enjoyed reading, whatever was written. I really hope that Stephanie Meyer starts writing this novel again and gives us more insight on Edwards thinking. Because it is simply, breathtaking

Thank you Stephanie for this wonderful series. And thanks to Nithya who told me about twilight in the first place and to Raji who introduced me to the Midnight sun.

So, new commenter/reader! Hi, Willow! You’re really cool.

Notice the white of the sock compared to my skin. I am not a vampire, despite a few people’s thoughts. (Seriously. I am not a vampire. I do not sparkle.)

I’m a genre writer.  I started as fiction writer, telling stories in the present (with some excursions into past and future) until I finished high school. Then I started writing what I thought was science-fiction, but is actually science-fantasy, as I’ve never read hardcore science-fiction, but I did watch the original Star Wars trilogy and original Star Trek TV series. So for me sci-fi was space opera, imagining the future with starships etc, except I was already a technophobe and my future-technology was totally unbelievable. Most of those stories can be turned into fantasy without losing much.

Then I started listening to heavy metal and hard rock – all those gorgeous long-haired guys and my readings (I had just discovered The Belgariad and The Cheysuli Chronicles) turned me into fantasy. I always loved the middle ages, but was too lazy to research and study history. So I started writing those adventures in invented worlds with knights, wizards, witches, kings and whatever – and drawing them as well, as by the late 90s I started my first self-produced comic-books (or fanzines). 

In spite of reading Eddings, I never really liked the Quest, the Good vs Evil, the magicthingamagic stuff. Reading classifications of fantasy (which, apparently, is a very broad genre), I’d define mine as either sword&sorcery or heroic fantasy/adventure fantasy. Character-oriented, my plots revolve around wandering characters (minstrels, knight errands, warrior women, merchants, mercenaries and other itinerant professions) who try to fin in or visit the world. It took me years, but I finally set up Silvery Earth, its rules, races and history…

I’m standing in Barnes and Noble on 5^th Avenue, it’a lunch time, and I’m joined  by a throng (what is a “throng” by the way?) of people pouring over books for holiday gifts, romance novels and even a bunch of geeky looking guys, separate from the throng, who are  salivating over books about computers.

But I refuse to let myself be distracted by any of them because I’m searching the shelves for something much more important.

A way to get rich.

A friend mentioned a book called “Think and Grow Rich” and she’d just finished a chapter about how people seem to triumph after their darkest hour.

This brought two immediate thoughts to mind.  One, if thinking is required, I’m screwed.  And two, since I haven’t triumphed yet, does that mean I have even darker hours ahead?   Oh God, please say “no.”

Nevertheless, since I wasn’t making any headway playing Lotto, Lucky 7s or Mega Million, I thought I would give her book a try.   But as I stood in the Money and Finance section of the store, I found myself distracted.

For two good reasons.

First, I had already seen enough dark hours in my life to last a lifetime, and  didn’t really want to face anymore.  I just wanted to be left alone, live one day at a time, try to do the right thing and enjoy my simple life.

And second, I’m a dreamer.

People have always accused me of that each time I thought I’d come up with a good idea, or tried to express myself creatively.  And over the years, I came to believe they were right.

I thought back to my  teenage years when I wrote songs.   People who heard me play, and heard my songs, loved them.  Not just my friends, but strangers.  And for years, I recorded those songs, and took them to every record label in the world where they were rejected.  And I would try again.  I’d work several jobs, write more songs, do a better job of recording them, only to face more rejection.  From Los Angeles, to London, to Nashville to New York, year after year only to have everything that came from my heart be rebuffed.

In fact most of the people who were even nice enough to listen, would hand them back and look at me with something akin to pity, before they sent me on my way.   All I knew was that people liked my songs, except for the people who had the power to record them.

Years later, after I left that business,  I tried one more time.  A man heard me play an original song at a party, he cried, and told me it was a beautiful song, He wanted to give it to a friend who was the president of a major record label.  He did, and of course the song was dismissed immediately.  When I heard the news, I just stared at the man and I thought to myself,

“They were right.  I’m nothing but a dreamer.”

After I left that business in my early 30’s I began writing; articles, stories, poems, and mainly commentary about the things I noticed in life.  A professor of an advanced writing course at NYU said,

“You are a great writer.  You really have a talent.”

And another professor said,

“I feel every scenario you write about.  Your words are so descriptive, I could even smell the fragrance of the bread in the scene you wrote about your childhood.  You really write with great emotion and empathy.”

And for years I wrote and wrote, and was declined by magazine after magazine, by newspapers and book publishers.

Finally, one year,  after my writing days were basically over, I wrote a story for someone I loved, and wrote it in the format of a children’s story.  To my chagrin, everyone who read it, loved it.  And I thought, uh oh, here I go again.  And I was right, every publisher who read it declined it.   And when I asked people for help, most didn’t even respond.   I was told I needed a network.  That successful people know other successful people.  Kind of like the rich get richer.

But I was a kid from the south side of Chicago.  I didn’t have a network.  I went to a neighborhood grade school, like thousands of others in Chicago.  I didn’t go to a prep school, an Ivy League school, a Big 10 school, or any university where networking was part of the curriculum.  I went to a local junior college  made out of temporary metal buildings erected in an flat, open corn field in the middle of Illinois.   And I had been told for most of my life that I was only really good at one thing.  And that was being

Nothing but a dreamer.

Even in relationships, I have faced the same thing  One woman after another would think I was the nicest, most decent man they had every met.  But there was always a flaw, or a comment I’d make, or the lack of money, or class, or status, or distance, or something I would do.  And sooner rather than later I was spurned by them as well.   And like the music people and the publishers, I would never hear another word from them again.

Who knows why all of this happened.  Who knows why so many people could appreciate the talent, the heart and the decency, and how the only thing they could say was,

“I’m sorry, you’re not good enough.”

So, on that particular day, I stood at Barnes and Noble, surrounded by the “throng,” now half heartedly looking at books on how to be successful.  I remembered all of the record companies and publishers.  I remembered all the people who would sit at the piano bars and say “God those are great songs.”  I remembered all the people who read my writing and said, “you really have a talent.”

But most of all,  I stood looking at those hundreds of books all promising success, and I remembered the rejection.  All of it.

I smiled a sad smile, but also realized that I have been successful in other areas of my life, which to me are more important than who you know or how much money you have.  I have good friends.  People know they can count on me.  I’m honest, loving, faithful, meet all my commitments, love my boys, and do my best to help people when they need it the most.

But on that day I turned my back, and slowly walked out of the store, empty-handed.  I walked down 5th Avenue to my office where I had work to do that would pay my bills and keep me busy.  I thought to myself, accept the life you have today, continue to be decent, and try to treat other with kindness, respect, and affection.  But I couldn’t help thinking,

“A book on how to think and get rich?  What was I thinking?”

“I’m nothing but a dreamer.”

It’s halfway through November, which means I’ve written 25,000+ words in the last two weeks, in this year’s NaNoWriMo novel. This is the second year in a row that the Preteen and I are both writing. She’s participating in the Young Writers’ Program, as are several of her friends. This means she can set her own word count. Grown ups all aim for 50,000 words in a month. Thirty days, into the fictional wild.

Some skeptics have asked me why I would do such a thing (for the fourth time, no less). It is a little crazy — November was always notoriously busy, and this year it’s even busier, with the Preteen in rehearsals for two one act plays, the Teenager trying out for soccer clubs, and my own work at Gibson’s. The added chaos in our family schedule convinced me that I had to give it a try again, so that I could figure out how to work daily writing time back into my life.

My 2009 novel is as yet untitled, but I’m really having fun with it. The ideas aren’t coming quickly; I’m trying to listen to my characters, and let them have and solve problems in their lives. NaNoWriMo is brilliant in many ways, but one of my favorite things about it is that the weekly pep talks (from both NaNoWriMo staff and an array of well known authors) emphasize that freedom to create is paramount in this wilderness.

So what’s the point of NaNoWriMo? Giving oneself permission to spend time writing, to see what creative possibilities are lurking unconsciously while your conscious life is occupying all your time, is worth the effort. Knowing you are doing so in community with thousands of other people around the world is kind of fun, too.

Making the effort, even when you are so tired that you doze off over the keyboard, to observe a fictional world sharpens the ability to observe the real one. But it’s not conducive to getting much else done. For example, I started this post a week ago!  So with no further delay, on to what we read around here recently.

The Teenager finished the first paper he had to turn in to someone else — Oxford University. Not a bad place to start your academic career. He’s mostly enjoying the online course on Vikings he’s taking there. The tutor is helpful and responsive, too. Although he’s still reading The Poetic Edda with us, he has mostly been reading textbooks on Vikings, the Science of Soccer (he has pronounced his physiology textbook boring, so it’s time to shake things up),  and American history and government.

He finished reading Freedom: A History of US, which is Joy Hakim’s one volume version of her history series. We read the whole series aloud a few years ago, and he also loved her The Story of Science series. He’s now reading The United States Constitution: A Graphic Adaptation.

The Preteen is re-reading favorites as she is wont to do. She started The Hobbit but seems to have set it aside. As I mentioned, she’s been rehearsing for two plays and writing a novel, so hasn’t had much time to get lost in a book. But she is a voracious reader of magazines — American Girl, Muse, Calliope, Cricket, Nintendo Power and New Moon. Since the Computer Scientist and I get half a dozen or so magazines ourselves, she probably comes by this honestly.

Besides keeping up with what comes through the mail slot, the Computer Scientist also read Stephen King’s new tome, Under the Dome, in less than a week.  He says it’s the most intricate of King’s books — and he’s read them all. But even though he liked the complexity and found the story very interesting, he felt that one key thing wasn’t entirely clear: what caused the dome to descend in the first place? The Computer Scientist notes that it might have been interesting if this aspect of the story were more fully developed.

I read a number of books in the last few weeks. I finished my Nicholson Baker binge with The Mezzanine and Room Temperature. The Mezzanine takes place during the main character’s lunch hour and is a long riff on a variety of things that cross his mind, from shoelaces to ties to the layout of the drugstore and the office dynamics of restroom use. The book features numerous footnotes. You probably will either love or hate that. I happened to enjoy it — footnotes appeal to my inner geek. One of my all time favorite books is Jonathon Strange and Mr. Norrell, which features abundant footnotes.

Room Temperature is also a novel limited to a slice of life — the time it takes the main character to give his infant daughter a bottle. What goes through his mind as he does this makes up the content of the book. I am again in awe of Baker’s creativity, and of the way his fiction seems to reveal the human condition in a stream of consciousness that most of us probably have going on but don’t even notice. So far, my favorite of Baker’s books is The Anthologist. This may be because I read it first, or because it deals with a subject I love (poetry), but there was also something about the protagonist that has stayed with me.

Before David Schmahmann visited Gibson’s in October, I read his first novel, Empire Settings. I loved this book. I’ve read other books set in South Africa, including The Syringa Tree, which is also told from a white South African’s point of view. Empire Settings is similar to The Syringa Tree in that the main character is grown and living in the United States, remembering his childhood.  It’s different in that we get to know Danny the grown man as well as learning about the events and relationships of his youth that haunt him still.

The writing is vivid and also very emotionally rich. The family dynamics — the way the grown siblings relate to each other and to their mother, Helga, and step-father; the way Helga, a woman who was a strong voice for justice during the apartheid era, is now a dependent wife; and the unfolding of Danny’s complicated relationship with his American wife and with the mixed race love of his youth — are all fascinating.

Layered into the story is the political and economic history of modern South Africa.  And the plot culminates in Danny’s struggle over whether to go back to Durban and illegally spirit the  family’s money out of the country, and what it will mean for him to return. I’m happy to report that David is working on a new novel that will be out next fall, and I very much look forward to it!

The Lazarus Project, by Alexsandar Hemon, is another novel of immigrant experience. This time, the main character, Brik, is from Bosnia, and he is writing about an early 20th century Jewish immigrant who was framed as an anarchist after he was killed while trying to deliver a message to Chicago’s chief of police. We read this for Gibson’s Book Club, and most of the group didn’t like it because the main character is rather whiny.

While Brik is impossible to warm up to, his story, of seeking to prove himself as a writer, of trying to understand why his marriage to an American wife isn’t as happy as he thinks it should be, of trying to know who is is and where he comes from, is haunting.  Hemon writes beautifully; his work is doubly impressive because English is not his first language. I think the novel succeeds because I felt Brik’s despair, his unspecified loss, his perpetual sense of being an outsider, as I read. Brik’s emotional wilderness is hard to take, but thankfully, the reader is only visiting.

Two more books I read this month are set in war torn places.  Baking Cakes in Kigali is set in Rwanda, in an apartment compound populated mostly by aid workers, academics, and others rebuilding the nation a few years after the genocide. Many of the characters in the book tell Angel, the cake baking protagonist, about the impact Rwanda’s conflict has had on their lives.  AIDS, too, is an enormous force in the book. But despite the horrors — and author Gaile Parkin does not shy away from telling some gripping stories of shattered lives — the book is a tribute to the redemptive power of community.

Angel is a remarkable woman, and I loved this book not only because it took me somewhere I’m not likely to go anytime soon (Kigali) but also because it introduced me to a woman I’d like to know better. More than a matriarch, Angel is a survivor, but she isn’t entirely healed herself, even as she works to help people around her. Parkin’s prose gives readers all the rich detail they need to see and hear, taste and smell Angel’s world.

One tiny quibble I have is that like many contemporary novels, Baking Cakes in Kigali touches on a series of “issues.” Editors seem to want authors to include everything readers may have heard on the news. So we meet a former child soldier, victims of AIDS and war, former sex workers, orphans, adulterers, even a girl whose father wants her circumcised.

While many of their stories are compelling, and Angel listens to them as a natural part of the plot, it felt a little forced at times, although ultimately, I think it worked because Angel’s community is such a hodgepodge of cultures. What I enjoyed is that even the characters who have suffered the most are helping themselves and each other, living and moving on, one way or another. That made this fictional wild a very fine place to linger.

After Baking Cakes In Kigali, I read Katherine Towler’s latest novel. The final volume of her Snow Island trilogy, Island Light, comes out this winter. She’ll be coming to Gibson’s to read, and I got a pre-publication copy. Like her earlier books, this one features another generation of islanders, and revisits some of the older characters as well.

Island Light is set in the early 1990’s, as the Persian Gulf War is about to begin. One of the main characters, Nick, is a Vietnam veteran who has trouble dealing with the build-up to war and turns to drugs and alcohol. Several characters struggle with family relationships. There are two Lesbian couples in the novel, and Nick is having an affair with a married woman.

Perhaps because the previous two Snow Island books dealt with the insular island community’s secrets, I didn’t get the feeling that any of these problems were worked in — the plot unfolded naturally, and this didn’t seem like an “issues” book.  My favorite character is Ruth, and I enjoyed the passages dealing with her struggle over what her photography means to her — is it work that will earn her a living or is it art that will bring her joy and meet a need nothing else can? I also enjoyed the glimpses of Alice (who still runs the store) and George Tibbets, characters from the previous two novels.

Another thing I love about Towler’s books is the island. Bookconscious fans know I love books that take me places, and I will miss visiting Snow Island.

Devoted Reader!

Hello and I want to thank you again for stopping by on your visit to the information super-highway!  I want to thank each of you for your support!  This post is going to be a lot of fun! First of all, I want each of you to know that Ledge is coming along very nicely. However, in honor of the holiday weekend, I have prepared a special story that I will post right here for your enjoyment! I hoped to have it posted by Thanksgiving, but better late than never, right Devoted Reader!

The story is called Road Trip (A Holiday Tale) and if you enjoy it, I encourage you to check out similar pieces of this type of writing at my Redbubble Homepage.  Simply click the link on the “Redbubble Writings” page and enjoy these little twisted tales.

Again, Devoted Reader,

I apologize for the late posting, but it is my hope that you enjoy this Thanksgiving Tale over the best leftovers and I wish you all a fulfilling feast!

Enjoy and Best of Everything-

John Braxton Sparks

The Kindness of Strangers – Becoming an Ambassador for NaNoWriMo

by: Grace Tierney

Ever since I first stumbled upon the online writing community in 2001, I have been amazed by the kindness of most writers. Nowhere is this more evident than in the annual crazy ambition of more than 170,000 writers to write a 50,000 word novel in just 30 days at www.nanowrimo.org. Nano, as it’s known to its friends, attracts all ages and all stories.

This year, failing the 50,000 word finish-line in 2007 and 2008, I decided to become a Municipal Liaison for Nano. I’d found many wonderful online writing friends overseas but I’d never chatted to a writer in person and it bugged me. I’d set myself a challenge in 2009 to change that. I signed up for writing workshops and courses (cancelled due to the recession) and tried a local writing group (we weren’t compatible). I’d have to organize something myself. Why not become an ambassador for Nano?

Thankfully they were desperate for organizers in Ireland (usually they require MLs to be past Nano winners). I landed a region with a population of 394,000 (Census 2006). But, how many of them had heard of Nano? I spent October sending press releases to every local paper, event listing, writing group, library, and radio station I could locate. Each time I spoke to active writers they said “Nano? What’s that?”. I realized I might end up with zero participants in my region. Thankfully Nano mentors new MLs with experienced ones and they advised me to relax. I might have a small region this year, but it would grow by word of mouth. I got us a listing in a national newspaper and other coverage but I still only had a handful of writers registered on October 29^th.

I prepped goodie bags from my own limited funds and headed to a centrally located hotel lobby on Halloween morning wondering if I was in for a trick or treat? I arrived twenty minutes early to help my own nerves. Two seconds later my first writer arrived. Hurrah! I wasn’t going to be the only one there!! Six writers gathered at that kick-off meeting. It was a general chat about our books which flowed easily and inspired us all so much that four of us are likely to win Nano this year, including two complete novel novices.

Attending the in-person meetings made writing pep-emails weekly and keeping the forum posts flowing for my region (Europe:Ireland NorthEast) easy. Knowing the faces and the questions they’d raised gave me something to talk about. One of the more experienced MLs ran a word war between the seven regions in Ireland. The healthy banter and competition from that egged us all on to greater word counts too. I definitely wrote more because I knew I was contributing to my team as well as my novel. Apparently being an ML or attending meetings raises your chances of winning from 18% to over 50%. That sounded good to me.

By the halfway point, despite ML duties, I was ahead on my word count. Then I found the Word Count Scoreboard. My tiny region of ten active writers was running in 6^th place out of nearly 500 worldwide regions. You should have seen the grin on my face. I am so proud of my writers, I didn’t expect that. I didn’t expect the flow of sympathy for my daugher’s chest infection when I posted that I’d have to stop writing for a few days due to her illness (if you think anyone gets through November without losing a few days to Real Life, you can think again). I didn’t expect the rush of goodwill, even from rivals in the word war, when I crossed the 50k finish line on day 25, or the invitation to attend the Thank Goodness It’s Over Party at my adjacent region just because they know me on the forums.

The kindness of other writers. Strange writers, writers of strange things. They have a heart of gold and if you never go to a meeting or read a forum post on your Nano quest, you will not encounter it. Please take twenty minutes to look around the next time you’re updating your word count and prepare to be amazed.

Bio: Grace Tierney is currently writing her 2009 Nano novel in Ireland NorthEast (“Hamster Stew and Other Family Meals”). She’s had publisher interest in her 2007 Nano novel (“The Morning After Service”). When it’s not November she can be found freelance writing fiction and non-fiction for anthologies, glossy magazines, and ezines all around the world – check out her writing tips at www.gracetierney.com. She blogs on unusual words at www.wordfoolery.wordpress.com.

Since I haven’t been writing like a mad man, I’ve actually had a lot of time to think about the main character of my fantasy book, which made me realize that I only really had a cursory understanding of who he really was. The most important concept that I was missing was why. Why did he become the person he ends up to be in the story. What events lead him there? So, since I’ve got a lot more time to figure that out, I’m going to go back to my sci-fi novel and work on finishing that again. It’ll give me plenty of time figure everything out, and since I’ve been talking about how important characters are, that’s probably the most important thing to do.

- Rich

Another crime thriller from Sweden. This one is quite disturbing, dealing with sex slaves lured to Sweden from Lithuania. Swedes are known to be chauvinistic (maybe it’s the dreary weather). There is a sense of helplessness on the part of the police as well as the victims; they don’t have the tools to deal with the crimes, which touch them personally. The writing plods on, heightening the tension and frustration they feel. One of the authors is a journalist, the other lists himself as (former) criminal. Give it a B.

Horror and science fiction author, Brick Marlin lives in Jeffersonville, Indiana.

His short stories have been featured in a number of print and online magazines, among them, Blood Moon Rising, Necrotic Tissue, MicroHorror and Sand: A Journal Of Strange Tales.

His books include Dark Places of Rest (Sonar 4 Publications, 2009); Saturated and Crimson (Publish America, 2009) and The Darkened Image (Publish America, 2007).

Related article:

[Interview] Brick Marlin, Conversations with Writers, November 27, 2009

This is the first post for the novel I just wrote during November.  It’s only the first in a series I plan — and this blog will be talking about things related to writing, editing and publishing.

I’ve been following with interest the whole RWA and HQ thing in Twitter and elsewhere in the web.  Because, even though most of my published stories so far have been Literary Erotica — this is not.  Before I started to craft the story I was already thinking about where I might want it to end up.  I plan on following a traditional route (assuming they still exist) to publication.

This blog will document that.

xxoo!

The boy got there first. He figured she would be there soon so he went ahead and ordered coffee. they werent really gonna pay for it so why not order breakfast too? then again with his hangover, his meal might come right back up if he ate  so the coffee had to do for now. he didnt really drink coffee but at this time of morning, and having no alcohol or drugs in his system, he would take advantage of the most caffeinated beverage the restaurant offered and hope that the caffeine would have some effect. maybe ten or so refills later. but he kept in mind that here arent any other patrons yet, and waiters start to get antsy and asks how your gonna pay when all you do is refill your glass. and why the heck wasnt she there yet. she was the one who picked the freakin time and even the place. its not like she forgot. and if she took all the pills they bought before she got there he was gonna be pissed.

it was about then that the boy noticed the couple behind him. not because he saw them sit down, but because of what they were talking about. he’d never heard such filthy conversation in his life. the lady explained the depth of her throat and the man laughed as if it wasnt enough. ” i hope it doesnt hurt too much hun” she laughed as if that wasnt an issue. the different positions they were talking about hadnt even crossed the boys mind before. granted he wasnt yet a teenager but still. they were talking about bondage and sadism and things that even while completely wasted the boy couldnt even conjour up. listening while pretending not to was probably the most difficult thing he’d had to do in a while and after about 10 minutes of this the boy knew two things. he had been stood up by his favorite drug weilding playmate. and he had to know what these people looked like. were they young lovers with a wild side or were they gutter trash who did all this is in an abandoned house. maybe a house down the street from his house. a place he could visit later on if he followed them home. its not like his date was gonna show anyway so following them home was definitely a great way to spend the afternoon.

it took him a good five minutes before the boy got the nerve to turn around and when he did it was slow and very nonchalant. but there was no one there. the glasses werent full of watered down coke. the plates werent covered in what was left of egg omelets. nothing. he knew that if he stopped the waiter to ask he might have to pay for the coffee he had no money for but he had to know. conversations like that dont happen every day. or maybe they did. as soon as the guy walked by the boy reached out and grabbed the guy by the hand. ” im sorry sir but i have to know who was at the table behind me” he made up a story really quickly about how it sounded like a cousin he hadnt seen in a while.

the waiter looked at the boy like he was on drugs. ironically this time he wasnt. not yet anyway. but when the guy finally opened his mouth it was definitely not the answer the boy expected. “theres nobody at this table kid. there hasnt been anybody sitting here all morning. we havent even set out silverware yet. are you just gonna refill that all day or are you going to pay for that coffee?.”

the reason the boy wanted to know isnt really the sort of answer you give a person youve never met. and he wasnt gonna pay for the coffee so that wouldnt work as an answer either “im sorry i asked man. and yes im gonna pay for it when im finished. Im still waiting for a friend so fill it back up again please.”

the waiter walked away to get the pot of coffee. the boy took the ten dollar bill off the table next to his a took off. he had to get over to the girls house to find out what she was doing instead of meeting him. he was in no mood to walk with the ten bucks he just earned he could pick up some pot on the way and that was definitely a better financial choice than breaking it for bus fare. besides, the walk would give him time to figure out how to explain these people and their squalid conversation.

****

“i heard them!” he yelled.

” sure you did.” she clearly didnt believe him. “come on if you wanted to do any of these, why dont you just put the moves on me and do it. its not like id tell you no.”

“im not kidding around. i heard them clear as day. those people had the most disgusting conversation i think ive ever heard…”

“thought you heard” she interrupted

“come on im serious! im telling you someone had that conversation, i know it.”

She chuckled at his frustration and replied with a smile, ” you havent taken the pills i bought yet so are you something you dont feel like sharing with me or were you so screwed up yesterday that its still affecting you?”

The past fortnight has found me in a suitably strange little place. Uncharacteristically, I have on the one hand felt very laid-back, comfortable in the knowledge that I’m well on schedule with all my projects (even taking into account the unexpected stay in hospital and its aftermath) and quite content to “potter” with bits and pieces of editorial work. On the other hand, however, I’ve started to feel that old, familiar twitchiness — the restless need to get back to my writing.

Briefly, a few days ago, I managed to convince myself that, you know, Christmas is almost upon us and, frankly, well, returning to As Morning Shows the Day (my half-finished work in progress) this side of New Year would be pretty silly, wouldn’t it?

And maybe it would… I don’t know… but, the way things are going, I’ll probably be writing again during December. Just can’t help myself, guvna.

Getting my final draft of Children of the Resolution off to Legend last week kind of underscored my need to return to my work. Still not completely back to full health but needing something to do, I’d worked through the manuscript steadily and methodically, falling back into that other world I had in part created. The autobiographical aspect of Children resonated even more, given my recent illness (you’ll see what I mean when you read it), and even as I found it cautionary I yearned to get back to shaping my characters and fictional vistas. And so, once this project was delivered, I returned to As Morning Shows the Day — merely reading through it at this stage, listening to the voice, refamiliarising myself with it.

Yes, I still occasionally manage to convince myself that this is merely my way of preparing for starting back on it in January… but I’m fooling no one, least of all myself.

In other news, the electronic version (for Kindle, Sony Reader etc) of If I Never is now available here. Pretty excited about this. I’m not a huge fan of electronic books but I know a growing number of people are — and having seen the finished product, I’m beginning to understand why! Looks great… but don’t take my word for it, check it out for yourself! (Free readers are also available for PCs.)

A sample chapter of If I Never can be read here.

To buy your copy of If I Never, please click here.

© 2009 Gary William Murning