It wasn't too long ago that fantasy achieve it's own genre status. Remember? It was once known as Sci-Fi/Fantasy. Before that, it was simply sci-fi. The same can be said for the romance genre. Everything was chucked under that large, pink-frilled banner.
You can imagine the westerns glaring sideways and spitting into a convenient spittoon while pink-flowered regencies swooned and batted eyelids at the medievals and scottish. The contemporaries would be off to the side chatting with the suspense and in the shadows, over on the left, were the eroticas, slyly commenting on the physiques of the paranormals. Of course, the futuristics would be bored witless with the humours and the historicals would be trying to teach them all a modicum of manners.
It's different now. With so many categories, it's difficult to decide what to read.
Science Fiction has hard sci-fi, space opera and soft sci-fi; fantasy has standard, epic and series. And that's not mentioning science fantasy; a blending of the two... or six. You're average thriller could be a contemporary, or political, or legal or medical or police procedural.
As far as I can tell, only two genres have kept themselves together: westerns and horror - and I'm sure someone will tell me otherwise.
What this means for the writer is that work has to be genre specific, or an editor is going to toss it elsewhere because it doesn't 'fit' what they're looking for.
And you can't say it's a 'humorous geo-sociopolitical romantic suspense thriller set in a medico-legal frontier future, where erotic fantasies are historically based' either to cover your bases.
Somehow, you have to pick one genre to get a look in.
Do you blame anyone? Surely, to the Goddess, there has to be someone to blame for all this? The reader for sticking to what they like? The bookstore for placing the books into categories? The publishers for printing so many different books? The editors for deciding to accept only specific genres? Or even the writers for saying "no, it's not erotica, it's romantica." Eh? It's what? Another genre that doesn't fit anywhere else than in a new one? Or is it simply the evolution of an industry subject to the whims of the Information Age?
For an alleged intelligent, sophisticated society, replete with gadgets ostensibly to save us time, we're sure running around doing a lot of things other than relaxing with a good book. In fact, we're now looking quicker for what we like and we don't have time to browse for that gem. We want our fix. We want to find that fix faster so we can race home to enjoy it before the kids, husband, work, household chores, interfere.
So. We can blame ourselves for not being able to take the time to treasure hunt.
Genre splicing is another aspect of the society we live in; so we can find what we want faster rather than the slow, laborious choosing of something that might be good. We know our authors, we know their books and we know when they're going to be released.
What a nifty time-saving device categorising is. I'm off to read a paranormal romantic suspense now. I found it on the 'net and had it sent to me... to save time.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Monday, June 19, 2006
Feminism in Fiction II
Continuing on. Let’s take the written word.
I’ve read a number of books where the female protagonist has been mighty indeed.
David Weber’s Honor Harrington series is the stand out. Here is a woman who suffered the unwanted attentions of a male colleague and it affected her outlook on herself for many years. Elizabeth Moon’s Paksenarrion was placed in an equally devastating position – that of losing her courage; the same author’s Kylara Vatta lost almost everything, S.L. Viehl’s Stardoc is denied humanity altogether. There isn’t enough room in one post for the all, but I’ll name one more: Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake is also coming to grips with loss: that of her humanity.
Which of these women do you most identify with? None, some or all of them?
Each has lost a lot All have suffered at the hands of fate. They are not unlikeable though they have traits that are… disturbing. Honor is a killer, Paksenarrion seems shy and confused, Kylara isn’t as devastated by familial loss as she should be, Cherijo’s personality is abrasive, arrogant and Anita is becoming a slut of a sociopath.
What makes them stand out is their foibles, their humanity. They are all well aware of their failings and yet can’t seem to shake them off. Of course, if they did, they’d not be as real. Each woman has an inner core of strength that the people around can’t hope to emulate, and are left only to admire. It makes them different, almost inhuman.
The men are there, oh, yes indeedy, but they are not an integral part of the stories. They have supporting roles; important roles, but supporting nonetheless. The women stand on their own.
What makes these women different is their willingness to sacrifice all for the cause. Honor becomes a mother, and yet is still willing to go out and fight a war even though she knows she might not come back. Anita is willing to sacrifice herself for the greater good; that is, protecting humanity from the creatures of the night, no matter what flavour they are. Cherijo will be a doctor to anyone, friend and enemy alike and will do anything to save a patient, even if it means her capture, mutilation or death.
If you haven’t read any of these, do so. They are terrific examples of heroines in fiction. They also demonstrate that it’s okay to have affection, even love, for a man without losing that which makes them heroic.
The lesson in this? When you are writing a woman protagonist, give her great things, but as always… make her suffer for it. Remember “for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction”. In other words, for every admirable quality you give your characters, give them something opposite: A compassionate killer, a sometimes suicidal doctor, a human vampire killer, a militaristic trader. Then give them a reason not to be that way: love, faith, duty, anything that causes, at the very least, internal conflict.
If you can do that, you’ll crack the code on the perfect protagonist – male or female.
I’ve read a number of books where the female protagonist has been mighty indeed.
David Weber’s Honor Harrington series is the stand out. Here is a woman who suffered the unwanted attentions of a male colleague and it affected her outlook on herself for many years. Elizabeth Moon’s Paksenarrion was placed in an equally devastating position – that of losing her courage; the same author’s Kylara Vatta lost almost everything, S.L. Viehl’s Stardoc is denied humanity altogether. There isn’t enough room in one post for the all, but I’ll name one more: Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake is also coming to grips with loss: that of her humanity.
Which of these women do you most identify with? None, some or all of them?
Each has lost a lot All have suffered at the hands of fate. They are not unlikeable though they have traits that are… disturbing. Honor is a killer, Paksenarrion seems shy and confused, Kylara isn’t as devastated by familial loss as she should be, Cherijo’s personality is abrasive, arrogant and Anita is becoming a slut of a sociopath.
What makes them stand out is their foibles, their humanity. They are all well aware of their failings and yet can’t seem to shake them off. Of course, if they did, they’d not be as real. Each woman has an inner core of strength that the people around can’t hope to emulate, and are left only to admire. It makes them different, almost inhuman.
The men are there, oh, yes indeedy, but they are not an integral part of the stories. They have supporting roles; important roles, but supporting nonetheless. The women stand on their own.
What makes these women different is their willingness to sacrifice all for the cause. Honor becomes a mother, and yet is still willing to go out and fight a war even though she knows she might not come back. Anita is willing to sacrifice herself for the greater good; that is, protecting humanity from the creatures of the night, no matter what flavour they are. Cherijo will be a doctor to anyone, friend and enemy alike and will do anything to save a patient, even if it means her capture, mutilation or death.
If you haven’t read any of these, do so. They are terrific examples of heroines in fiction. They also demonstrate that it’s okay to have affection, even love, for a man without losing that which makes them heroic.
The lesson in this? When you are writing a woman protagonist, give her great things, but as always… make her suffer for it. Remember “for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction”. In other words, for every admirable quality you give your characters, give them something opposite: A compassionate killer, a sometimes suicidal doctor, a human vampire killer, a militaristic trader. Then give them a reason not to be that way: love, faith, duty, anything that causes, at the very least, internal conflict.
If you can do that, you’ll crack the code on the perfect protagonist – male or female.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
You know if you're driving too fast when...
Yeah, I'm sure my dog, Saxon, knows how this feels on occasion. But, she's a trooper and I don't usually go the fang as much as I used to - unless I'm late for work (or my idea of late. Goddess knows, I'm there before everyone else).I got this from Jill Shalvis's site.
Oh, for those who don't know 'fanging', that's the sound the car makes as it goes by if you're standing still on the footpath.
Feminism in Fiction I
I went to a number of panels at Conflux that dealt with the portrayal of women in fiction.
This includes Anime/Manga, novels, movies and television series. One of the best questions asked was who would win a fight: Ace, from Dr Who, Starbuck, from Battlestar Galactica or Rose Porter, also from Dr Who. The winner, hands down, was Ace. Why? Because she took on a Dalek with a baseball bat and won.
Lt. Col. Sam Carter from Stargate SG came in for quite a bit of discussion; she is alternately reviled and admired. She’s a strong woman character who not only has brains, but courage, loyalty and human frailties. It is the affection she has for Jack that causes her to be the object of disgust by some fans of the series.
Aeryn Sun, from Farscape, too, is subject to eye-rolling because of her relationship with Crichton.
There are only two women in popular series who escape this: River from Firefly and, of course, Xena. Although Xena was portrayed as bi-sexual.
Most of the discussions wound around the characters, not the why. People kept coming up with more characters, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Willow, from the same series, Uhura from Star Trek, Captain Janeway… and so on.
I’m going to give you my thoughts on this:
All of these women are strong, powerful, intelligent, loyal, courageous and determined to win. They are also subject to the emotional pull of a man (or a woman) and that, in some fans eyes, diminishes them.
Sam, Aeryn, and River are emotionally close to men; that doesn’t mean they cannot stand on their own though. Hell, River kicked the snot out the Reevers; Aeryn was a Peacekeeper and Sam is still a soldier.
Starbuck drinks, smokes cigars and sleeps with loose men! She’s the best pilot, can take a beating and keep on tickin’. Does this make her any less feminine? I don’t think so: she can match it with men and that, more than anything else, is what the unreconstructed sexists cannot forgive.
Take a close look at the books you love that have a woman protagonist. You’ll find the majority are (at least the ones I read), kick ass women who don’t take any shit from anyone. Even the romances. It’s interesting to note that not many authors will actually have a woman protagonist save her man – it is still the other way around.
Gender issues are still a long way from being equal – even the strongest female protagonist has a man by her side (one might even say they are ready to step in if the woman gets into any trouble).
There is nothing wrong with being emotionally involved with a man; it does not diminish a woman whether it is in fiction or reality. The key is not to fail at that last hurdle; when you are writing your kick ass heroine, remember that she is powerful, and has been strong for three hundred-plus pages.
Don’t have her fail – fail in that she has to be rescued, either physically or emotionally. If that happens, then you’ve failed in your duty as a writer to fulfil the promise at the beginning of the book.
This includes Anime/Manga, novels, movies and television series. One of the best questions asked was who would win a fight: Ace, from Dr Who, Starbuck, from Battlestar Galactica or Rose Porter, also from Dr Who. The winner, hands down, was Ace. Why? Because she took on a Dalek with a baseball bat and won.
Lt. Col. Sam Carter from Stargate SG came in for quite a bit of discussion; she is alternately reviled and admired. She’s a strong woman character who not only has brains, but courage, loyalty and human frailties. It is the affection she has for Jack that causes her to be the object of disgust by some fans of the series.
Aeryn Sun, from Farscape, too, is subject to eye-rolling because of her relationship with Crichton.
There are only two women in popular series who escape this: River from Firefly and, of course, Xena. Although Xena was portrayed as bi-sexual.
Most of the discussions wound around the characters, not the why. People kept coming up with more characters, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Willow, from the same series, Uhura from Star Trek, Captain Janeway… and so on.
I’m going to give you my thoughts on this:
All of these women are strong, powerful, intelligent, loyal, courageous and determined to win. They are also subject to the emotional pull of a man (or a woman) and that, in some fans eyes, diminishes them.
Sam, Aeryn, and River are emotionally close to men; that doesn’t mean they cannot stand on their own though. Hell, River kicked the snot out the Reevers; Aeryn was a Peacekeeper and Sam is still a soldier.
Starbuck drinks, smokes cigars and sleeps with loose men! She’s the best pilot, can take a beating and keep on tickin’. Does this make her any less feminine? I don’t think so: she can match it with men and that, more than anything else, is what the unreconstructed sexists cannot forgive.
Take a close look at the books you love that have a woman protagonist. You’ll find the majority are (at least the ones I read), kick ass women who don’t take any shit from anyone. Even the romances. It’s interesting to note that not many authors will actually have a woman protagonist save her man – it is still the other way around.
Gender issues are still a long way from being equal – even the strongest female protagonist has a man by her side (one might even say they are ready to step in if the woman gets into any trouble).
There is nothing wrong with being emotionally involved with a man; it does not diminish a woman whether it is in fiction or reality. The key is not to fail at that last hurdle; when you are writing your kick ass heroine, remember that she is powerful, and has been strong for three hundred-plus pages.
Don’t have her fail – fail in that she has to be rescued, either physically or emotionally. If that happens, then you’ve failed in your duty as a writer to fulfil the promise at the beginning of the book.
Friday, June 16, 2006
Happy Birthday to...
ME!!! Happy Birthday to me, happy birthday dear me-ee... Ha-aappee Birthday to me-ee!
Yep, it's that time of the year where, for one day, there is no guilt about what I eat or do. This morning it was Belgian waffles with mandarin slices and Chantilly cream; mmm... delish. Usually, I have pancakes with fruit and yoghurt, but a) I couldn't be bothered making them, and b) the local shop didn't have any either. So it was waffles. So sad, too bad... heh.
The whole idea of birthday's I think is becoming lost. Yes, it's an alleged special day filled with prezzos and good wishes, but the celebrant can feel overwhelmed by the attention, make themselves sick on all the sweet food, and have to be nice to relatives who give gifts but who otherwise wouldn't talk to you in a pink fit.
Let's not forget the cheek tugging ("My, haven't you grown") by corpulent, red-faced aunts, the slaps on the back guarranteed to dislocate a vertebrae or two by robust, pot-bellied uncles who eye you with a gleam in their eyes, the grandparents smelling of lavender or old spice watching with love out of faded eyes.
Then there's the other side. When no one remembers. Eek! Those insidious thoughts appear: why hasn't anyone remembered? Am I that forgettable? Does no one care?
My elder brother has never recovered from turning forty some five years ago; he gets real snarly if you should dare wish him a happy birthday. A present? Only if it is a long held wish or want of his.
My eldest sister has plans to go to Paris for her fiftieth; and so on with my siblings.
I'm thinking, "why wait to go to Paris?" and "Geez, pal, grab the presents and run!"
My birthday is all about me: what I do to celebrate, if I celebrate at all. If others wish to join in, they are welcome, otherwise, I'm gonna choose what I eat today, be it fattening, soaked with cholesterol, terribly good or bad for me. Today, I'll choose what I do... okay... outside of work.
The result of all this is that I have the birthday I want, not what others want for me.
Yep, it's that time of the year where, for one day, there is no guilt about what I eat or do. This morning it was Belgian waffles with mandarin slices and Chantilly cream; mmm... delish. Usually, I have pancakes with fruit and yoghurt, but a) I couldn't be bothered making them, and b) the local shop didn't have any either. So it was waffles. So sad, too bad... heh.
The whole idea of birthday's I think is becoming lost. Yes, it's an alleged special day filled with prezzos and good wishes, but the celebrant can feel overwhelmed by the attention, make themselves sick on all the sweet food, and have to be nice to relatives who give gifts but who otherwise wouldn't talk to you in a pink fit.
Let's not forget the cheek tugging ("My, haven't you grown") by corpulent, red-faced aunts, the slaps on the back guarranteed to dislocate a vertebrae or two by robust, pot-bellied uncles who eye you with a gleam in their eyes, the grandparents smelling of lavender or old spice watching with love out of faded eyes.
Then there's the other side. When no one remembers. Eek! Those insidious thoughts appear: why hasn't anyone remembered? Am I that forgettable? Does no one care?
My elder brother has never recovered from turning forty some five years ago; he gets real snarly if you should dare wish him a happy birthday. A present? Only if it is a long held wish or want of his.
My eldest sister has plans to go to Paris for her fiftieth; and so on with my siblings.
I'm thinking, "why wait to go to Paris?" and "Geez, pal, grab the presents and run!"
My birthday is all about me: what I do to celebrate, if I celebrate at all. If others wish to join in, they are welcome, otherwise, I'm gonna choose what I eat today, be it fattening, soaked with cholesterol, terribly good or bad for me. Today, I'll choose what I do... okay... outside of work.
The result of all this is that I have the birthday I want, not what others want for me.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
"Pillow Talk...
or Why is there Sex in My Fantasy." This was one of the panels I went to. Of course, it was a full house.
On the panel were romance writer, Valerie Parv, dark fantasy writer, Stephen Dedman, erotic fiction writer, Elaine Kemp, and chaired by sci-fi writer, Russell Blackford.
The panel didn't, per se, answer the question, but waxed lyrical on the topic of writing sex scenes in general.
The majority of the discussion dealt with so called 'women's fiction' and it's effect on world sales - which is enormous. The 'fantasy' part dealt more with sexual fantasies than the world of fantasy.
No fantasy novels were mentioned, and Valerie read an excerpt from a friend of her's manuscript that sounded to me like it needed a damn good editing! Which just shows that a writer should always read their texts aloud to test for inconsistencies, for readability, and for complexity.
As to why there is an increase of sex in fantasy novels? Well, my humble opinion is that more and more readers expect their fantasy books to be created as close to reality as possible. Yes, magic happens, no, it doesn't need an intensive explanation as to why magic happens. Yes, the plots are brilliant, the characters well-crafted; yes, a writer gets to torture those same characters. But. If you're going to torture them in interesting and creative ways, those incidents have to be written to impart to the reader how, well... torturous the situation is. Equally, if your characters are going through the bad times, the good times have to be written with the same emotional impact; and that means the sex, too.
I don't think it's a societal thing for writers to have their characters engage in intimacy, it's a humanity thing. Everyone gets it on with a partner/s. And in this new century, readers are more discerning, more mature and more willing to accept that that's what happens between to people. They want their fantasies as true to life as possible, even in a fantasy arena.
If you have a male and a female in a story, sexual tension is going to happen. (Yeah, sure, if you're writing gay fiction, male-to-male, female-to-female stuff happens too.) Just because you're writing in a particular genre, doesn't mean intimacy doesn't happen. It does, but writers in the past have glossed the events over. While that has long been acceptable, I think readers want it all now, not the euphamisms, not the closed door or fade out, they want everything.
The most informative comment came from Elaine, the erotic fiction writer, and was the most helpful:
"Books should be written on a one-third/two-third ratio: for every action sentence, write two descriptive sentences while that action is happening." This has, apparently, worked for her, as Ms Kemp has just sold two erotic fiction books to publishers in the U.S.
If sex in fantasy is an inevitability, which I think it is - though only where appropriate, writers are going to have to get used to the idea of creating those scenes.
The best suggestion I've heard to get over the squeamishness and uncomfortableness of writing sex scenes is this: write the most wicked, blatant, full on, sex scene you can think of and repeat writing a variation on the theme until you're comfortable with it.
As a last comment on the topic, one panelist put it this way: "if it doesn't arouse me, it won't arouse the reader."
On the panel were romance writer, Valerie Parv, dark fantasy writer, Stephen Dedman, erotic fiction writer, Elaine Kemp, and chaired by sci-fi writer, Russell Blackford.
The panel didn't, per se, answer the question, but waxed lyrical on the topic of writing sex scenes in general.
The majority of the discussion dealt with so called 'women's fiction' and it's effect on world sales - which is enormous. The 'fantasy' part dealt more with sexual fantasies than the world of fantasy.
No fantasy novels were mentioned, and Valerie read an excerpt from a friend of her's manuscript that sounded to me like it needed a damn good editing! Which just shows that a writer should always read their texts aloud to test for inconsistencies, for readability, and for complexity.
As to why there is an increase of sex in fantasy novels? Well, my humble opinion is that more and more readers expect their fantasy books to be created as close to reality as possible. Yes, magic happens, no, it doesn't need an intensive explanation as to why magic happens. Yes, the plots are brilliant, the characters well-crafted; yes, a writer gets to torture those same characters. But. If you're going to torture them in interesting and creative ways, those incidents have to be written to impart to the reader how, well... torturous the situation is. Equally, if your characters are going through the bad times, the good times have to be written with the same emotional impact; and that means the sex, too.
I don't think it's a societal thing for writers to have their characters engage in intimacy, it's a humanity thing. Everyone gets it on with a partner/s. And in this new century, readers are more discerning, more mature and more willing to accept that that's what happens between to people. They want their fantasies as true to life as possible, even in a fantasy arena.
If you have a male and a female in a story, sexual tension is going to happen. (Yeah, sure, if you're writing gay fiction, male-to-male, female-to-female stuff happens too.) Just because you're writing in a particular genre, doesn't mean intimacy doesn't happen. It does, but writers in the past have glossed the events over. While that has long been acceptable, I think readers want it all now, not the euphamisms, not the closed door or fade out, they want everything.
The most informative comment came from Elaine, the erotic fiction writer, and was the most helpful:
"Books should be written on a one-third/two-third ratio: for every action sentence, write two descriptive sentences while that action is happening." This has, apparently, worked for her, as Ms Kemp has just sold two erotic fiction books to publishers in the U.S.
If sex in fantasy is an inevitability, which I think it is - though only where appropriate, writers are going to have to get used to the idea of creating those scenes.
The best suggestion I've heard to get over the squeamishness and uncomfortableness of writing sex scenes is this: write the most wicked, blatant, full on, sex scene you can think of and repeat writing a variation on the theme until you're comfortable with it.
As a last comment on the topic, one panelist put it this way: "if it doesn't arouse me, it won't arouse the reader."
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
I'm baack!
What a weekend! I'm back at work and I'm exhausted. Doesn't feel like I had a long weekend at all; dashing from one panel to the next, getting books signed, chatting to people, all that driving...
The food at the Medieval Feast was delicious; so much so that I'm going to hunt down some of recipes, especially the Hyppocras - that was mmm....
Most of the panels were interesting and informative, but some, like the Choose your Monster, were highjacked by existentialist assholes who discussed 'the monster inside' instead. I don't give a rats bladder if authors are 'expressing their inner demons', that's not what the panel was supposed to be about. The interview with Arthur C. Clarke was equally disappointing: he sounded exactly like he was, old and a bit vague. The best part of that interview was his reply to getting ideas. "I just lie down until they go away."
And if I hear the word 'trope' again, I think I'll have to hurt someone.
I picked up a lot of Australian fiction, in novels, anthologies and magazines, so I'm going to be spending a lot of time reading them - when I'm not watching the anime I also bought.
The international guests were great: Steve Jackson, Joan D. Vinge, Ellen Datlow, Jim Frankel, Jonathon Hardy... I saw 'em all. The Australian guests were equally erudite, Sean Williams, Dan Abnet, Trudi Canavan, Kate Forsyth, Valerie Parv, Lucy Sussex, Queenie Chan, Sean McMullen, Jackie French, Marianne de Pierres...
I'm going to post what happened in some of the panels in later posts. But for now, I need a nap...
The food at the Medieval Feast was delicious; so much so that I'm going to hunt down some of recipes, especially the Hyppocras - that was mmm....
Most of the panels were interesting and informative, but some, like the Choose your Monster, were highjacked by existentialist assholes who discussed 'the monster inside' instead. I don't give a rats bladder if authors are 'expressing their inner demons', that's not what the panel was supposed to be about. The interview with Arthur C. Clarke was equally disappointing: he sounded exactly like he was, old and a bit vague. The best part of that interview was his reply to getting ideas. "I just lie down until they go away."
And if I hear the word 'trope' again, I think I'll have to hurt someone.
I picked up a lot of Australian fiction, in novels, anthologies and magazines, so I'm going to be spending a lot of time reading them - when I'm not watching the anime I also bought.
The international guests were great: Steve Jackson, Joan D. Vinge, Ellen Datlow, Jim Frankel, Jonathon Hardy... I saw 'em all. The Australian guests were equally erudite, Sean Williams, Dan Abnet, Trudi Canavan, Kate Forsyth, Valerie Parv, Lucy Sussex, Queenie Chan, Sean McMullen, Jackie French, Marianne de Pierres...
I'm going to post what happened in some of the panels in later posts. But for now, I need a nap...
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Conflux
Off to Conflux 3 bright and early tomorrow morning for four days of panels, shows, speeches and general sci-fi/fantasy stuff. Oh, and the Medieval Feast on Saturday night. Woohoo!
I'll be listening on the interviews with Sir Arthur C. Clarke and Ray Bradbury; attending panels with Tor editor, Ellen Datlow, listening in on Publishing Myths, Dark Fantasy, Villains and Heroes, Worldbuilding, Choosing Monsters, Blogging and the Spec Fic writer, the State of Sci-Fi and Horror fiction, Sci-Fi Women, Movie Tie in work, Publishing 101, the Best in Anime, Anime in Feminism and lots of other stuff, including a mass signing by various authors.
Entertainment at the Feast is going to be the Sydney Stage Combat School. Of course, then there's a party at the pub.
I figure that by the end of this long weekend I'm going to be toasted, roasted and exhausted.
I am hoping to be able to post while I'm there, but I'm not holding my breath, so I'll just make notes and post next week.
I'll be listening on the interviews with Sir Arthur C. Clarke and Ray Bradbury; attending panels with Tor editor, Ellen Datlow, listening in on Publishing Myths, Dark Fantasy, Villains and Heroes, Worldbuilding, Choosing Monsters, Blogging and the Spec Fic writer, the State of Sci-Fi and Horror fiction, Sci-Fi Women, Movie Tie in work, Publishing 101, the Best in Anime, Anime in Feminism and lots of other stuff, including a mass signing by various authors.
Entertainment at the Feast is going to be the Sydney Stage Combat School. Of course, then there's a party at the pub.
I figure that by the end of this long weekend I'm going to be toasted, roasted and exhausted.
I am hoping to be able to post while I'm there, but I'm not holding my breath, so I'll just make notes and post next week.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Dark Need
The third in Lynn Vieh’s Darkyn series is just as good, if not better, than the previous two.
So hot it’ll make your ears burn with a plot that that is darker than the other two, Dark Need has everthing: murder, action, lust, betrayal, lies, half-truths, and a dynamic ending you should see coming, but don't.
This is my favourite so far.
Detective Samantha Brown is working a homicide case where the ‘murder’ weapon has the name ‘Lucan’ inscribed on the back. In fact, every victim had a connection to Lucan’s Goth nightclub, Infusion.
Lucan, assassin to the Darkyn High Lord, sees in Samantha a woman he once loved and lost centuries ago; he is determined to make Samantha his kyrya, or human wife. She is resistant. When tragedy strikes, Sam is more determined than ever to hunt down the killer and enlists Lucan’s help. The need for vengeance fades away under the primitive attraction and overwhelming lust.
Added to the mix is Lucan’s plan for his arch-enemy, Michael Cyprien, the hero of If Angels Burn, and his sygkenis, Dr Alexandra Keller; then there’s Sam’s stalker who arranged for her near murder some years ago, that left her scarred physically and emotionally.
At first, Lucan is irritatingly arrogant and determined to have Sam, no matter what her feelings on the issue might be. Sam, of course, while attracted, resists him and his alluring powers, but only for a while – it wouldn’t be a romance if they didn’t come together with some explosive passion.
Both are emotionally damaged, almost without hope at ever finding love. It's a long road to redemption for Lucan, he has been shunned by his own kind for centuries. As a hero is nasty, indifferent, selfish, charming, sneaky, clever and determined; Sam is also determined, but she is lost, heroic, confused and guilt-ridden.
I think the only disappointment was the homicide case. The clues led straight to Lucan, and no other suspect was ever contemplated. As a cop, that makes Sam a pretty poor one, even with her 'special' talent. Sure, these books are about the Darkyn, but they're also about those who are drawn into their world.
This story has an excellent end that was foretold in Private Demon. As with all of Lynn’s books, the reader must be aware of the ongoing plot issues that span books to come.
Dark Need, while satisfying in itself, is a harbinger of dangerous times ahead. Now all I need is for Lynn’s publishing company to get the lead out and fast track the next one.
Dark Need, a Signet book, is out today. Go get it.
So hot it’ll make your ears burn with a plot that that is darker than the other two, Dark Need has everthing: murder, action, lust, betrayal, lies, half-truths, and a dynamic ending you should see coming, but don't.
This is my favourite so far.
Detective Samantha Brown is working a homicide case where the ‘murder’ weapon has the name ‘Lucan’ inscribed on the back. In fact, every victim had a connection to Lucan’s Goth nightclub, Infusion.
Lucan, assassin to the Darkyn High Lord, sees in Samantha a woman he once loved and lost centuries ago; he is determined to make Samantha his kyrya, or human wife. She is resistant. When tragedy strikes, Sam is more determined than ever to hunt down the killer and enlists Lucan’s help. The need for vengeance fades away under the primitive attraction and overwhelming lust.
Added to the mix is Lucan’s plan for his arch-enemy, Michael Cyprien, the hero of If Angels Burn, and his sygkenis, Dr Alexandra Keller; then there’s Sam’s stalker who arranged for her near murder some years ago, that left her scarred physically and emotionally.
At first, Lucan is irritatingly arrogant and determined to have Sam, no matter what her feelings on the issue might be. Sam, of course, while attracted, resists him and his alluring powers, but only for a while – it wouldn’t be a romance if they didn’t come together with some explosive passion.
Both are emotionally damaged, almost without hope at ever finding love. It's a long road to redemption for Lucan, he has been shunned by his own kind for centuries. As a hero is nasty, indifferent, selfish, charming, sneaky, clever and determined; Sam is also determined, but she is lost, heroic, confused and guilt-ridden.
I think the only disappointment was the homicide case. The clues led straight to Lucan, and no other suspect was ever contemplated. As a cop, that makes Sam a pretty poor one, even with her 'special' talent. Sure, these books are about the Darkyn, but they're also about those who are drawn into their world.
This story has an excellent end that was foretold in Private Demon. As with all of Lynn’s books, the reader must be aware of the ongoing plot issues that span books to come.
Dark Need, while satisfying in itself, is a harbinger of dangerous times ahead. Now all I need is for Lynn’s publishing company to get the lead out and fast track the next one.
Dark Need, a Signet book, is out today. Go get it.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
The... other blog
Okey dokey, I've set up another weblog that will contain stories and excerpts from works-in-progress. Nothing today, just an introduction.
Tomorrow, the first story will go up at Jaye Patrick's Takeaway.
The good side is that it will provide me with a forum for the work - I don't expect too many comments, given the plethora of weblogs out there, but if I get one, it will be worthwhile; on the bad side, it's yet another bloody username and password to remember.
I already have four e-mail accounts and a squillion registrations on various sites I visit, now two weblogs. I'm gonna have to keep a book of them all!
I'm going to select an appropriate first story. Probably one that's already been read via the Forward Motion web site, but that's fine. This is for a wider audience.
Tomorrow, the first story will go up at Jaye Patrick's Takeaway.
The good side is that it will provide me with a forum for the work - I don't expect too many comments, given the plethora of weblogs out there, but if I get one, it will be worthwhile; on the bad side, it's yet another bloody username and password to remember.
I already have four e-mail accounts and a squillion registrations on various sites I visit, now two weblogs. I'm gonna have to keep a book of them all!
I'm going to select an appropriate first story. Probably one that's already been read via the Forward Motion web site, but that's fine. This is for a wider audience.
Friday, June 02, 2006
It's Raining...
Yeah, sure, I know, if you have to talk about the weather, there's nothing going on. But...
It's been raining for most of the week. It's the 2nd of June and my area has already received double the long term monthly average. How much is that? About 60mms or two and half inches - for the whole month; so far, the gauges have filled to 130mm in two days and it is still coming down.
I've worked out that since Monday, when it started, we've had over 173mms of rain or seven inches. A good soaking rain - Autumn has been colder and drier than usual; and there in presents the problem: if you have dry and brittle ground, the water simply runs off without penetrating.
Since it has been raining for so long, the ground has had the opportunity to soak up alot of water; it's taken three days for the local creek to start running, for example. Now, we come to the next height in the raised stakes. If we have too much water, we are gonna flood.
I live in a coastal community, but the creeks in the surrounding areas, are behind all the houses. Oh, and in building some of those houses, the natural drainage channels were diverted away from the new houses near the main creek and toward the old ones nearer the coast.
I can't tell you how pissed off I am about that, because a lot of that water comes through my backyard. I have an irrigation pipe through the back and a small drain that is usually good enough. Since the local council approved a drain out the front that doesn't meet flood standards, and had the water channel diverted, if the street drain blocks up with debris, our back drain fills up and overflows. It's right outside the back door - no steps, just the door.
About the same time last year, we had an astonishing storm that dumped buckets of rain. It was too much for the drains and we ended up with the bottom story flooded. Complaints to the Council have resulted in buck passing.
Sure, it was a 'once in a century' event, but, damn it, it happened and I want it fixed in case another one happens (as events like this usually do regardless of 'expert advice').
For now, the drains are holding, the creeks are holding and it's still bloody raining! Of course such extremes always brings Dorothy McKellar's quintessential Australian poem to mind; in particular:
I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of rugged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains,
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror -
The wide brown land for me!
It's been raining for most of the week. It's the 2nd of June and my area has already received double the long term monthly average. How much is that? About 60mms or two and half inches - for the whole month; so far, the gauges have filled to 130mm in two days and it is still coming down.
I've worked out that since Monday, when it started, we've had over 173mms of rain or seven inches. A good soaking rain - Autumn has been colder and drier than usual; and there in presents the problem: if you have dry and brittle ground, the water simply runs off without penetrating.
Since it has been raining for so long, the ground has had the opportunity to soak up alot of water; it's taken three days for the local creek to start running, for example. Now, we come to the next height in the raised stakes. If we have too much water, we are gonna flood.
I live in a coastal community, but the creeks in the surrounding areas, are behind all the houses. Oh, and in building some of those houses, the natural drainage channels were diverted away from the new houses near the main creek and toward the old ones nearer the coast.
I can't tell you how pissed off I am about that, because a lot of that water comes through my backyard. I have an irrigation pipe through the back and a small drain that is usually good enough. Since the local council approved a drain out the front that doesn't meet flood standards, and had the water channel diverted, if the street drain blocks up with debris, our back drain fills up and overflows. It's right outside the back door - no steps, just the door.
About the same time last year, we had an astonishing storm that dumped buckets of rain. It was too much for the drains and we ended up with the bottom story flooded. Complaints to the Council have resulted in buck passing.
Sure, it was a 'once in a century' event, but, damn it, it happened and I want it fixed in case another one happens (as events like this usually do regardless of 'expert advice').
For now, the drains are holding, the creeks are holding and it's still bloody raining! Of course such extremes always brings Dorothy McKellar's quintessential Australian poem to mind; in particular:
I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of rugged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains,
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror -
The wide brown land for me!
Thursday, June 01, 2006
It is... done.
The Forward Motion marathon... she is done and now I have another thirty-one short stories to add to my cache. This is the fourth year I've done this particular marathon and I can see improvements in my writing.
I have a bundle of a little over a dozen stories that can either be expanded into novels, or cleaned up for market. The others, well, they will sit for a while and meditate on what's wrong with them. Once they know, they'll let me know, and I can work on improving them.
And there is the attached weblog I'm planning on setting up this weekend for show and tell (still gotta think of a snappy name for it).
In the meantime, I'm going to kick back and read a book or two, or maybe three...
I have a bundle of a little over a dozen stories that can either be expanded into novels, or cleaned up for market. The others, well, they will sit for a while and meditate on what's wrong with them. Once they know, they'll let me know, and I can work on improving them.
And there is the attached weblog I'm planning on setting up this weekend for show and tell (still gotta think of a snappy name for it).
In the meantime, I'm going to kick back and read a book or two, or maybe three...
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Adaptations
Over at Sci-Fi.com, their news site has announced some adaptations of books into movies/tv series/graphic comics.
Jim Butcher's Dresden Files is to become a television series, and if you look on the web, there are sites that mention all the goings on with that. I've read the first book, and I think I'd be interested in the series.
But what caught my attention, was the announcement of Anne McCaffrey's Pern series being developed for the big screen. Dragonflight was one of the first sci-fi novels I ever read. (My brother gave me this and Andre Norton's Moon of Three Rings; from then on, I was hooked on sci-fi.)
I'm thinking that with both these series, the film/tv makers are going to have to tread carefully; with the Pern books especially. They have been well loved since 1968 when Dragonflight first appeared. And, for all you writers out there, Dragonflight had its genesis as a short story. I, for one, am hoping they do an outstanding job.
The other news announced by Sci-Fi.com is that Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake series will be made into comic books. Dabel Brothers announced the the book back at the end of last year, but now, they have an artist, Brett Booth, how, thankfully, is a fan of the series. First up is, of course, Guilty Pleasures. Laurell's site has examples of Brett's work, as does Dabel Brothers.
This is something I'm gonna have to buy. I might not like the direction the series is heading, but the first five books are terrific; full of sass, action, suspense and dynamic plots. (I just hope I can get them here in Aus, rather than having to order them in.)
A preview was released last month in the first issue of Marshall, released on 26 April. I haven't seen it. Ain't no comic book stores within a hundred k of where I live. But, I'll hunt it down when I get to Conflux in a fortnight.
The comic of Guilty Pleasures is due to hit the stores in June with the two-part graphic novels available in January and July 2007. Hell, why am I telling you this? Go read the press releases!
Jim Butcher's Dresden Files is to become a television series, and if you look on the web, there are sites that mention all the goings on with that. I've read the first book, and I think I'd be interested in the series.
But what caught my attention, was the announcement of Anne McCaffrey's Pern series being developed for the big screen. Dragonflight was one of the first sci-fi novels I ever read. (My brother gave me this and Andre Norton's Moon of Three Rings; from then on, I was hooked on sci-fi.)
I'm thinking that with both these series, the film/tv makers are going to have to tread carefully; with the Pern books especially. They have been well loved since 1968 when Dragonflight first appeared. And, for all you writers out there, Dragonflight had its genesis as a short story. I, for one, am hoping they do an outstanding job.
The other news announced by Sci-Fi.com is that Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake series will be made into comic books. Dabel Brothers announced the the book back at the end of last year, but now, they have an artist, Brett Booth, how, thankfully, is a fan of the series. First up is, of course, Guilty Pleasures. Laurell's site has examples of Brett's work, as does Dabel Brothers.
This is something I'm gonna have to buy. I might not like the direction the series is heading, but the first five books are terrific; full of sass, action, suspense and dynamic plots. (I just hope I can get them here in Aus, rather than having to order them in.)
A preview was released last month in the first issue of Marshall, released on 26 April. I haven't seen it. Ain't no comic book stores within a hundred k of where I live. But, I'll hunt it down when I get to Conflux in a fortnight.
The comic of Guilty Pleasures is due to hit the stores in June with the two-part graphic novels available in January and July 2007. Hell, why am I telling you this? Go read the press releases!
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
And speaking of names...
I have one more story to write for the marathon and while the stories are coming easily, the one thing that is not are the character names.
I've written thirty stories with an average of three names per story - some with more, but I ain't counting them; that makes ninety or more first and second, and nicknames I've had to come up with.
I've dipped into The Great Australian and New Zealand Book of Baby Names by Cecily Dynes - it has 10,000 names - and thought the rest up myself.
Luckily, there are also a number of sites out there to assist should you get stuck:
20000-Names has over that number; All-Names has links to name sites, and is probably a good place to start if you want something different or traditional.
It's actually fun to come up with names. Or perhaps 'fun' is the wrong word? It's more like, once I've got a picture of the protagonist in my head, the name arrives soon after. Sometimes it works well, and sometimes the names need a little tweaking to suit the plot. I'm rarely dissatisfied or disappointed, but it sure is nice to have some backup in case I have an empty-headed moment where no names arrive.
I've written thirty stories with an average of three names per story - some with more, but I ain't counting them; that makes ninety or more first and second, and nicknames I've had to come up with.
I've dipped into The Great Australian and New Zealand Book of Baby Names by Cecily Dynes - it has 10,000 names - and thought the rest up myself.
Luckily, there are also a number of sites out there to assist should you get stuck:
20000-Names has over that number; All-Names has links to name sites, and is probably a good place to start if you want something different or traditional.
It's actually fun to come up with names. Or perhaps 'fun' is the wrong word? It's more like, once I've got a picture of the protagonist in my head, the name arrives soon after. Sometimes it works well, and sometimes the names need a little tweaking to suit the plot. I'm rarely dissatisfied or disappointed, but it sure is nice to have some backup in case I have an empty-headed moment where no names arrive.
Monday, May 29, 2006
What's In A Name?
I gotta shake my head. Why does the media go all smug when celebrities name their children? Gwennyth Paltrow coped it after naming her daughter 'Apple', as if this was the first odd name ever to be given to a child.
Now, Gerri Halliwell has named her daughter Bluebell, Tomcat have Suri and Brangelina have Shiloh and the media go squirrelly over what the names mean.
Could it be - oh, the humanity! - simply a matter that the parents liked the names and that they didn't in fact, pore over Baby Name books, seaching for some deep, inner meaning?
Oh, and let's not forget the trend of naming a boy child with the maiden name of the mother.
There have been plenty of peculiar and original names throughout history - they don't have to originate from the Bible, or the Torah, or the Koran.
I'm sure there's plenty of more important things out there to report on than what a couple name their child.
Now, Gerri Halliwell has named her daughter Bluebell, Tomcat have Suri and Brangelina have Shiloh and the media go squirrelly over what the names mean.
Could it be - oh, the humanity! - simply a matter that the parents liked the names and that they didn't in fact, pore over Baby Name books, seaching for some deep, inner meaning?
Oh, and let's not forget the trend of naming a boy child with the maiden name of the mother.
There have been plenty of peculiar and original names throughout history - they don't have to originate from the Bible, or the Torah, or the Koran.
I'm sure there's plenty of more important things out there to report on than what a couple name their child.
Saturday, May 27, 2006
My world, good and bad
Writing, to me, is personal; not 'if you hate thework, you hate me' kind of personal, but I'm putting a lot of effort into it; my worlds, my characters, my emotions, my creations.
It's a kind of therapy for me, and I'm relatively good at it and, hopefully, getting better at writing. Goddess knows, it's creative enough, though lacking the finesse.
I'm constantly amazed at what comes out of my head - maybe everyone should write, in whatever genre they choose; it would, at the very least, make the world a more peaceful place for a while.
Today, I wrote a story via a generator that seemed quite inventive, entertaining and heart-felt. It wasn't until after I posted the story on the Forward Motion story-a-day-marathon site, (I'm not linking for obvious reasons; you wanna know? Go there.) that I realised what it was: a memory, a metaphor for that living past.
What I thought was hidden, isn't. And now it's out there for all to see.
On the relief side, most won't realise what kind of story it is; on the 'oh-shit-I've-said-too-much' side, the theme is in your face.
But I won't delete it, nor will I step back from it, though, for me, the emotional consequences are only now being felt.
What writers learn to do is to put themselves into their stories, whether it is painful or not. The story may be a first draft - they all are - but the fundamentals remain: that authors must put themselves into their work for it to be effective.
I may look at the story again, maybe to put on the new site I'm thinking of; or I might not. Authors are naked beings: what they feel, they are trying to convey to readers, to invoke similar emotions, but sometimes, it's really close to the bone.
What I do know, is that some twenty years later, the memory I thought I'd come to terms with, still lives, still bites, still hurts.
And what shakes me to the core, is wondering what else I haven't truly dealt with. What else is going to come out of my head? I'll never stop writing, that is an impossibility, but sometimes... Do I want to be so naked to the blogsphere?
No. I want to understand myself. I want to write. I don't want to be so exposed to the 'slings and arrows of outrageous contempt'. I don't necessarily require validation for my work; it would be nice, but it's not necessary.
What this has taught me is that I'm not alone. There are many authors who are putting themselves, emotionally, on the line. Most readers miss it, but the more astute... well, they see through the wonderful prose, the innovative ideas, the incredibly crafted characters and intricate plots to discern what is beyond.
I'm not naming names; like I said, writing, to me, is personal, and I'm not doing a dissertation on 'what the author really meant'. I already know; I've been there.
It's a kind of therapy for me, and I'm relatively good at it and, hopefully, getting better at writing. Goddess knows, it's creative enough, though lacking the finesse.
I'm constantly amazed at what comes out of my head - maybe everyone should write, in whatever genre they choose; it would, at the very least, make the world a more peaceful place for a while.
Today, I wrote a story via a generator that seemed quite inventive, entertaining and heart-felt. It wasn't until after I posted the story on the Forward Motion story-a-day-marathon site, (I'm not linking for obvious reasons; you wanna know? Go there.) that I realised what it was: a memory, a metaphor for that living past.
What I thought was hidden, isn't. And now it's out there for all to see.
On the relief side, most won't realise what kind of story it is; on the 'oh-shit-I've-said-too-much' side, the theme is in your face.
But I won't delete it, nor will I step back from it, though, for me, the emotional consequences are only now being felt.
What writers learn to do is to put themselves into their stories, whether it is painful or not. The story may be a first draft - they all are - but the fundamentals remain: that authors must put themselves into their work for it to be effective.
I may look at the story again, maybe to put on the new site I'm thinking of; or I might not. Authors are naked beings: what they feel, they are trying to convey to readers, to invoke similar emotions, but sometimes, it's really close to the bone.
What I do know, is that some twenty years later, the memory I thought I'd come to terms with, still lives, still bites, still hurts.
And what shakes me to the core, is wondering what else I haven't truly dealt with. What else is going to come out of my head? I'll never stop writing, that is an impossibility, but sometimes... Do I want to be so naked to the blogsphere?
No. I want to understand myself. I want to write. I don't want to be so exposed to the 'slings and arrows of outrageous contempt'. I don't necessarily require validation for my work; it would be nice, but it's not necessary.
What this has taught me is that I'm not alone. There are many authors who are putting themselves, emotionally, on the line. Most readers miss it, but the more astute... well, they see through the wonderful prose, the innovative ideas, the incredibly crafted characters and intricate plots to discern what is beyond.
I'm not naming names; like I said, writing, to me, is personal, and I'm not doing a dissertation on 'what the author really meant'. I already know; I've been there.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Expanding the world
PBW, that font of all writing knowledge, has a series of three posts on Story-to-Blog. It is not only worth reading, but also considering, as I am.
My stories may not win any prizes... yet... but to set up another linked blog with samples, is certainly a brilliant idea. My closest consideration to doing this was that the posts would be too long, so I junked the idea. The solution, of course, is simple: start a new blog with stories only and link the sucker to this one and that one to this one.
Jeez... If I'm brave enough to post my opinions on all manner of topic, I should be brave enough to put my work out there! And PBW's suggestion is just the focus I need.
People may not read them; or they might... er, will (I've yet to see a blog with zero visitors and zero comments - even mine, heh, heh).
In fact, when trying to think of what to blog tonight, I figured I might post the first sentence of a few of the pieces I've done for the Forward Motion story-a-day marathon.
So... come the weekend, I'll set up another blog with some fiction on it. As someone famously said (so famous, in fact, I have no idea who): You have no right to keep your imagination to yourself.
Ain't that the truth.
My stories may not win any prizes... yet... but to set up another linked blog with samples, is certainly a brilliant idea. My closest consideration to doing this was that the posts would be too long, so I junked the idea. The solution, of course, is simple: start a new blog with stories only and link the sucker to this one and that one to this one.
Jeez... If I'm brave enough to post my opinions on all manner of topic, I should be brave enough to put my work out there! And PBW's suggestion is just the focus I need.
People may not read them; or they might... er, will (I've yet to see a blog with zero visitors and zero comments - even mine, heh, heh).
In fact, when trying to think of what to blog tonight, I figured I might post the first sentence of a few of the pieces I've done for the Forward Motion story-a-day marathon.
So... come the weekend, I'll set up another blog with some fiction on it. As someone famously said (so famous, in fact, I have no idea who): You have no right to keep your imagination to yourself.
Ain't that the truth.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Lightning, Stripping and the Oirish
Okay, yeah, I know Blogthings can, I suppose, be described as a monumental waste of time... but what the hell...
And if you have any doubt about the screwiness of the Blogthings quizzes, cop this:
I'm so proud... But wait; there's more...
And that's probably a good thing: my grandfather was Irish on me Ma's soide; and me great granda was Oirish on me Da's soide.
Ah well, back tuh werk...
| You Are Lightning |
 Beautiful yet dangerous People will stop and watch you when you appear Even though you're capable of random violence You are best known for: your power Your dominant state: performing |
And if you have any doubt about the screwiness of the Blogthings quizzes, cop this:
| Your Stripper Song Is |
 Closer by Nine Inch Nails "You let me violate you, you let me desecrate you You let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you Help me I broke apart my insides, help me I?ve got no Soul to tell" When you dance, it's a little scary - and a lot sexy. |
I'm so proud... But wait; there's more...
| You're 50% Irish |
 You're probably less Irish than you think you are... But you're still more Irish than most. |
And that's probably a good thing: my grandfather was Irish on me Ma's soide; and me great granda was Oirish on me Da's soide.
Ah well, back tuh werk...
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
The Wonders of Blogworld
Blogging is a growing fashion trend; an accessory one must have to impress those without one.
Weblogs reach out beyond national borders to the international community. A well crafted blog educates, entertains and inspires. More and more businesses are entering the blogsphere to tout their wares on a more personal level. There's even a weblog that tracks the most popular blogs at Creative Weblogging, should you want to know what they are.
Average people - read "those not blogging - see blogs as online diaries; yet another arena for the populace to vent their spleen in a public forum. Sure, some are like that, but there is a whole new world exploding in cyberspace should you take the time to look.
Every manner of topic is explored, debated, commented upon. Teenagers chat about... teenage things, militarists talk about actions, present and past, writers explore their own world, there are political blogs, crafting blogs, porno blogs, puzzle blogs, publishing blogs, environmental blogs, space blogs, architectural blogs, numismatist blogs, medical blogs... and so on.
If you want to know something, it's out there; and not just informational web pages. People involved in the industry are blogging, about personal experiences in that industry.
Better yet are the teenagers who've taken to blogging. It's not just the angst-ridden years of hormonal upheaval. What has snuck in is an alternative to the piss-poor spelling and grammar of text messaging on the mobile phone. Finally, teenagers have their own forum to discuss what's bothering them rather than the quick:
WTF? NOYB, YKWYCD! or CUL8R,DV8 or PTMM?EG. Translation? See Webopedia which has a list. It's astonishing that a whole conversation can be had by nonsensical words. Of course, this has, apparently, led to a downturn in spelling and grammar levels. No small wonder.
With weblogs, free and easy to use, kids are now being more careful about language skills; their problems remain the same, but they have a much bigger audience to complain and bitch to; better yet, there's a large pool of people who can help them through the problems simply by posting a comment. Parents need not be aware of their children's woes (good, bad or indifferent your attitude may be to kids hiding stuff from their parents, it happens), but they can get help; or celebrate with similar bloggers - and they could be half a world away.
As a communications tool, it's like the new media in advertising: viral-ads. Everyone has one or more links to other blogs, who have one or more links to other blogs.
In this information age, a rumour, a joke, an ad, an issue, can swing around the world in seconds. There is no faster way to have a casual conversation with a stranger about shared concerns, hobbies or news.
Anyone with internet access can explore the world - and write about it.
It truly is a global village, and it's getting smaller...
Weblogs reach out beyond national borders to the international community. A well crafted blog educates, entertains and inspires. More and more businesses are entering the blogsphere to tout their wares on a more personal level. There's even a weblog that tracks the most popular blogs at Creative Weblogging, should you want to know what they are.
Average people - read "those not blogging - see blogs as online diaries; yet another arena for the populace to vent their spleen in a public forum. Sure, some are like that, but there is a whole new world exploding in cyberspace should you take the time to look.
Every manner of topic is explored, debated, commented upon. Teenagers chat about... teenage things, militarists talk about actions, present and past, writers explore their own world, there are political blogs, crafting blogs, porno blogs, puzzle blogs, publishing blogs, environmental blogs, space blogs, architectural blogs, numismatist blogs, medical blogs... and so on.
If you want to know something, it's out there; and not just informational web pages. People involved in the industry are blogging, about personal experiences in that industry.
Better yet are the teenagers who've taken to blogging. It's not just the angst-ridden years of hormonal upheaval. What has snuck in is an alternative to the piss-poor spelling and grammar of text messaging on the mobile phone. Finally, teenagers have their own forum to discuss what's bothering them rather than the quick:
WTF? NOYB, YKWYCD! or CUL8R,DV8 or PTMM?EG. Translation? See Webopedia which has a list. It's astonishing that a whole conversation can be had by nonsensical words. Of course, this has, apparently, led to a downturn in spelling and grammar levels. No small wonder.
With weblogs, free and easy to use, kids are now being more careful about language skills; their problems remain the same, but they have a much bigger audience to complain and bitch to; better yet, there's a large pool of people who can help them through the problems simply by posting a comment. Parents need not be aware of their children's woes (good, bad or indifferent your attitude may be to kids hiding stuff from their parents, it happens), but they can get help; or celebrate with similar bloggers - and they could be half a world away.
As a communications tool, it's like the new media in advertising: viral-ads. Everyone has one or more links to other blogs, who have one or more links to other blogs.
In this information age, a rumour, a joke, an ad, an issue, can swing around the world in seconds. There is no faster way to have a casual conversation with a stranger about shared concerns, hobbies or news.
Anyone with internet access can explore the world - and write about it.
It truly is a global village, and it's getting smaller...
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Fact and Fiction
Once upon a time, in a verdant land riven with strife, a man sat down and wrote an epic tale that has since developed into legend.
Once upon a time, in a land half a world away, a man, driven by the need to succeed, sat and wrote astonishing plays, sonnets and poetry that are still performed today.
Once upon a time, a woman, frustrated by her husband’s… idiosyncrasies, sat and wrote of the monster inside.
And once upon a time, a man, living in a cruel and bitter world, sat down and wrote about what lived in that darkness.
Closer to our time, a man threw in his job with the stock exchange and wrote of fantastic things, never knowing, at the time, what he’d unleashed upon the world.
Geoffrey of Monmouth wrote of Arthur; Shakespeare wrote of love, betrayal, redemption, murder; Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein, Bram Stoker wrote Dracula and Jules Verne wrote Journey to the Centre of the Earth.
These five authors are representations of epic fantasy, romance, murder and tragedies, psycho-thrillers, horror and… science fiction.
The most important thing that can be said of these authors is that inspired generations of writers. George Orwell, Arthur C. Clark, Isaac Asimov, Tolkien, Barbara Cartland, Dornford Yates, Edgar Allan Poe, Georgette Heyer, Dennis Wheatley, Anya Seaton, John Wyndham, Dion Fortune… the list is endless, for these authors inspired the new generations of writers, King, McCaffrey, Norton, White, Roberts, Weber, Hamilton, Laumer…, until here we are, today, with an industry Geoffrey would have goggled at and new authors coming into their own.
Thought, however, is a slowly evolving process. Yes, the first five are very well known, but what of those who immediately came after?
These writers of ‘fantastic’ fiction weren’t taken seriously until much later. Sure, they made a motza, but what use is reading about men going to the moon? Creating monsters? Or what lives in the dark and can feed on you? Or even what value forbidden love might be?
How about the Lunar landing in 1969? Genetic engineering? Spiritualist Churchs? Or breaking down the barriers of race, religion and creed? How about the inventions of the telephone, satellites, vaccines, not being ashamed of who you are, the acceptance of psychic abilities? Okay, the last is still not mainstream thought, but it might be… one day.
What all these writers have in common, whether it is recognised or not, is the progress the human race; they gave rise to curious scientists wondering if it were possible. And those scientists set about making fiction, fact.
The world of fiction has been responsible for an awful lot of inventions we have now. I'm not going to list them, jeez, it would take hours. The world of fiction has also been responsible for a lot bad things, too, and that would take an equal number of hours to list.
What is clear is that fiction has had a major influence in all aspects of life, from science, to medicine, to philosphy, to politcs, to family dynamics and faith. Anyone who denies this, never read a novel. Ever.
There is no end to what the human race can achieve, but the idea comes first.
As long as scientists have the visions of wondering how to create, our future is an exciting place; as long as writers have imagination, those visions can be fulfilled.
What price imagination? Why, anything we want it to be.
Once upon a time, in a land half a world away, a man, driven by the need to succeed, sat and wrote astonishing plays, sonnets and poetry that are still performed today.
Once upon a time, a woman, frustrated by her husband’s… idiosyncrasies, sat and wrote of the monster inside.
And once upon a time, a man, living in a cruel and bitter world, sat down and wrote about what lived in that darkness.
Closer to our time, a man threw in his job with the stock exchange and wrote of fantastic things, never knowing, at the time, what he’d unleashed upon the world.
Geoffrey of Monmouth wrote of Arthur; Shakespeare wrote of love, betrayal, redemption, murder; Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein, Bram Stoker wrote Dracula and Jules Verne wrote Journey to the Centre of the Earth.
These five authors are representations of epic fantasy, romance, murder and tragedies, psycho-thrillers, horror and… science fiction.
The most important thing that can be said of these authors is that inspired generations of writers. George Orwell, Arthur C. Clark, Isaac Asimov, Tolkien, Barbara Cartland, Dornford Yates, Edgar Allan Poe, Georgette Heyer, Dennis Wheatley, Anya Seaton, John Wyndham, Dion Fortune… the list is endless, for these authors inspired the new generations of writers, King, McCaffrey, Norton, White, Roberts, Weber, Hamilton, Laumer…, until here we are, today, with an industry Geoffrey would have goggled at and new authors coming into their own.
Thought, however, is a slowly evolving process. Yes, the first five are very well known, but what of those who immediately came after?
These writers of ‘fantastic’ fiction weren’t taken seriously until much later. Sure, they made a motza, but what use is reading about men going to the moon? Creating monsters? Or what lives in the dark and can feed on you? Or even what value forbidden love might be?
How about the Lunar landing in 1969? Genetic engineering? Spiritualist Churchs? Or breaking down the barriers of race, religion and creed? How about the inventions of the telephone, satellites, vaccines, not being ashamed of who you are, the acceptance of psychic abilities? Okay, the last is still not mainstream thought, but it might be… one day.
What all these writers have in common, whether it is recognised or not, is the progress the human race; they gave rise to curious scientists wondering if it were possible. And those scientists set about making fiction, fact.
The world of fiction has been responsible for an awful lot of inventions we have now. I'm not going to list them, jeez, it would take hours. The world of fiction has also been responsible for a lot bad things, too, and that would take an equal number of hours to list.
What is clear is that fiction has had a major influence in all aspects of life, from science, to medicine, to philosphy, to politcs, to family dynamics and faith. Anyone who denies this, never read a novel. Ever.
There is no end to what the human race can achieve, but the idea comes first.
As long as scientists have the visions of wondering how to create, our future is an exciting place; as long as writers have imagination, those visions can be fulfilled.
What price imagination? Why, anything we want it to be.
Friday, May 19, 2006
Immigration Woes II
Yesterday, I posted on immigration. Some might wonder at my attitude, so I thought I’d give you some examples from my experience as a departmental officer for immigration here in Australia.
The first, most heartbreaking case, was that of an asylum seeker from Bosnia during the conflict there. He did all the right things, applied through our embassy, gave his correct name, address, names of those who could vouch that yes, he was being persecuted. And he waited. And he waited and waited. Soon enough, the embassy sent him confirmation that not only had he been granted refugee status, but he would, in three days time, board a plane that would take him to Australia.
This guy was so happy, so relieved, that he went to church and gave thanks. And that is where he died when the building was mortared by the Serbs.
Second case, a family from Vietnam who paid people smugglers thousands of dollars to see them to Australia. They are immediately incarcerated in a detention centre until their identities and bona fides are confirmed. They had no papers, nothing to tell authorities who they are, but are adamant that if returned, they will be persecuted.
As it turns out, they lied: false names, false addresses, false informants who could testify. What they wanted was a better life; so called ‘economic refugees’. No country accepts economic refugees, it is up to the individual to find a way to improve their own lives, in their own country.
The family appealed, was rejected, appealed again, was rejected, had a final appeal and again were rejected. Then, they went to the media, pleading their case that they were poor, with no hope of ever getting out of poverty if they were returned. That they would be persecuted. The very fact that they went to the media guaranteed Ministerial granting of their application.
Can anyone else see the problems?
If they were so poor, how did they afford the people smuggler? If they were to be persecuted, why not give true names, true information to prove their bona fides? They weren’t poor, or persecuted, the lying fucks. And the Minister’s behaviour was as reprehensible as it was atypical.
How is it that a legitimate refugee dies before he can come here, and liars and cheats are allowed to cue jump and worse, get the Australian people to pay their legal fees at the same time?
Is it any wonder that the overwhelming majority of Australians, no matter what the poll, keep supporting John Howard’s strict immigration policy?
The bleeding hearts would have us close down our detention centres and open our borders. Well, they’re not so pristine themselves.
Every Easter (until this year when Baxter detention centre closed) the great unwashed would head out and protest outside the gates about the treatment of the refugees inside. (See yesterday’s post.) Australia does not detain refugees, it detains illegal entrants and asylum seekers until their statuses are determined.
One particular Easter, the protesters managed to break through the fence and release some of the detainees. There was much cheering and jeering at authorities over this triumph. Some of the protesters smuggled the inmates away.
Fine, the getaway worked. But once it had, the getaway drivers had no idea what to do. Some of the detainees were dropped off at the nearest town, others in the desert, only a handful made it to Adelaide where they were later recaptured. Why? They had no English, no food, no money, no accommodation. Most were damn pleased to be back in detention.
To this day, the behaviour of those protesters and the illegal immigrants/asylum seekers pisses me off. For the protesters, it was a lack of responsibility to those they helped escape, the stupid pricks. For the illegal entrants, if you break our laws, you can expect to be deported. For the so called asylum seekers, there are very few countries to which the Refugee policy can be applied. The Vietnam War is long over; Australia cannot interfere with another nations own policies, like China’s one child policy, so don’t come here expecting to have a passel of kids; as for other wars… well, wars end. If your side won, great, you’re a Displaced Person, not a refugee and you can go home. If your side lost, you’ll probably be granted refugee status.
And that’s the problem. Most asylum seekers are Displaced Persons. The definition of a refugee is someone who cannot return home because they will be persecuted on the grounds of race, religion, politics or creed. A simple definition, but oh, so hard to prove; unless you’re a Caucasian from Zimbabwe, then I think you’re in. Anywhere.
It’s time governments stopped being so bloody politically correct in trying to protect the individual and returned to protecting the country.
In a fight between the rights of an individual to live in peace and the pursuit of happiness without persecution, and the sovereign rights of a nation to secure its borders and its citizens, the nation comes first.
If we are, indeed the global village, then it’s time for the ghetto down the street to clean up its own neighbourhood and stop demanding uptown ‘do something because you owe us’. Bullshit. You want change in your country? You change it. It worked for Corazon Aquino in the Philippines; it worked for the Ayatollah Khomeini in Iran; it worked for Mikhail Gorbachev in the Soviet Union.
People power. Not whiny, selfish, narrow-minded, offended-at-rejection assholes who think it their right to shift to any country they like. Have the courage of your convictions and help your own people. It’s not up to Western, First World nations to interfere, regardless of what’s happening in Iraq today. It’s up to the citizens.
And it’s time the global village understood and accepted that, instead of giving in to the bloody sensitive flowers who are easily offended.
The first, most heartbreaking case, was that of an asylum seeker from Bosnia during the conflict there. He did all the right things, applied through our embassy, gave his correct name, address, names of those who could vouch that yes, he was being persecuted. And he waited. And he waited and waited. Soon enough, the embassy sent him confirmation that not only had he been granted refugee status, but he would, in three days time, board a plane that would take him to Australia.
This guy was so happy, so relieved, that he went to church and gave thanks. And that is where he died when the building was mortared by the Serbs.
Second case, a family from Vietnam who paid people smugglers thousands of dollars to see them to Australia. They are immediately incarcerated in a detention centre until their identities and bona fides are confirmed. They had no papers, nothing to tell authorities who they are, but are adamant that if returned, they will be persecuted.
As it turns out, they lied: false names, false addresses, false informants who could testify. What they wanted was a better life; so called ‘economic refugees’. No country accepts economic refugees, it is up to the individual to find a way to improve their own lives, in their own country.
The family appealed, was rejected, appealed again, was rejected, had a final appeal and again were rejected. Then, they went to the media, pleading their case that they were poor, with no hope of ever getting out of poverty if they were returned. That they would be persecuted. The very fact that they went to the media guaranteed Ministerial granting of their application.
Can anyone else see the problems?
If they were so poor, how did they afford the people smuggler? If they were to be persecuted, why not give true names, true information to prove their bona fides? They weren’t poor, or persecuted, the lying fucks. And the Minister’s behaviour was as reprehensible as it was atypical.
How is it that a legitimate refugee dies before he can come here, and liars and cheats are allowed to cue jump and worse, get the Australian people to pay their legal fees at the same time?
Is it any wonder that the overwhelming majority of Australians, no matter what the poll, keep supporting John Howard’s strict immigration policy?
The bleeding hearts would have us close down our detention centres and open our borders. Well, they’re not so pristine themselves.
Every Easter (until this year when Baxter detention centre closed) the great unwashed would head out and protest outside the gates about the treatment of the refugees inside. (See yesterday’s post.) Australia does not detain refugees, it detains illegal entrants and asylum seekers until their statuses are determined.
One particular Easter, the protesters managed to break through the fence and release some of the detainees. There was much cheering and jeering at authorities over this triumph. Some of the protesters smuggled the inmates away.
Fine, the getaway worked. But once it had, the getaway drivers had no idea what to do. Some of the detainees were dropped off at the nearest town, others in the desert, only a handful made it to Adelaide where they were later recaptured. Why? They had no English, no food, no money, no accommodation. Most were damn pleased to be back in detention.
To this day, the behaviour of those protesters and the illegal immigrants/asylum seekers pisses me off. For the protesters, it was a lack of responsibility to those they helped escape, the stupid pricks. For the illegal entrants, if you break our laws, you can expect to be deported. For the so called asylum seekers, there are very few countries to which the Refugee policy can be applied. The Vietnam War is long over; Australia cannot interfere with another nations own policies, like China’s one child policy, so don’t come here expecting to have a passel of kids; as for other wars… well, wars end. If your side won, great, you’re a Displaced Person, not a refugee and you can go home. If your side lost, you’ll probably be granted refugee status.
And that’s the problem. Most asylum seekers are Displaced Persons. The definition of a refugee is someone who cannot return home because they will be persecuted on the grounds of race, religion, politics or creed. A simple definition, but oh, so hard to prove; unless you’re a Caucasian from Zimbabwe, then I think you’re in. Anywhere.
It’s time governments stopped being so bloody politically correct in trying to protect the individual and returned to protecting the country.
In a fight between the rights of an individual to live in peace and the pursuit of happiness without persecution, and the sovereign rights of a nation to secure its borders and its citizens, the nation comes first.
If we are, indeed the global village, then it’s time for the ghetto down the street to clean up its own neighbourhood and stop demanding uptown ‘do something because you owe us’. Bullshit. You want change in your country? You change it. It worked for Corazon Aquino in the Philippines; it worked for the Ayatollah Khomeini in Iran; it worked for Mikhail Gorbachev in the Soviet Union.
People power. Not whiny, selfish, narrow-minded, offended-at-rejection assholes who think it their right to shift to any country they like. Have the courage of your convictions and help your own people. It’s not up to Western, First World nations to interfere, regardless of what’s happening in Iraq today. It’s up to the citizens.
And it’s time the global village understood and accepted that, instead of giving in to the bloody sensitive flowers who are easily offended.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Immigration Woes
Immigration is firmly on the agendas of nations this week.
The US has announced it will build a three-layer, 370 mile fence, with a further 500 miles of vehicle barriers along it’s 2000 mile shared border with Mexico. President Bush will also send 6000 National Guardsmen to patrol the borders.
In retaliation, Mexico has threatened “it would file lawsuits in U.S. courts if National Guard troops detain migrants on the border and some officials said they fear the crackdown will force illegal crossers into more perilous areas to avoid detection.”
Over in England, Prime Minister, Tony Blair, has suggested that all foreign prisoners be deported no matter what dangers they may face in their home countries. This comes on the heels of a High Court decision to allow nine Afghans asylum seekers to stay until it was safe to return to their country. The nine, who hijacked a plane and brought it to England, in 2000, had their convictions quashed in May 2003 by Appeal judges on a technicality. From the BBC: “The three judges at the Court of Appeal said on Friday a mistake in directing the jury was the only reason the men's appeal had succeeded.”
In France a new immigration law that favours skilled workers over the unskilled has been passed in the lower house. The new law “requires immigrants from outside the European Union to sign a contract, agreeing to learn French and to respect the principles of the French Republic.”
Here, in Australia, any new Papuan asylum seekers will be processed off shore, as per the policy of the Government.
On one side of the argument, these policies are being seen as racist, xenophobic and an attack on people’s human and civil rights. On the other, these policies are being seen as security measures against terrorism, against criminal elements.
Let me be absolutely clear on one thing: asylum seekers are not refugees. The United Nations High Commission for Refugees sets the policy for who is and is not a refugee. Signatory countries apply that policy.
It remains a country’s sovereign right to decide who can and cannot enter the country. Refugee status may be granted, but another country can accept those refugees.
For America, besieged by vitriol and hate from Islamic fundamentalists and imported criminals, building this fence is the best chance they have of stopping the influx of illegals from Mexico. It is too easier a route for terrorists to enter.
For Mexico, they’re gonna have to suck it up and deal with their internal problems that lead to its citizens wanting to cross the border and not blame someone else.
For England, it is as Tony Blair remarked when the judgement on the Afghans was handed down: “an abuse of common sense”. As to deporting foreign nationals when their incarceration expires, is there some reason why a country should keep someone who does not respect that country’s laws?
For France, it is an attempt to lure skilled and professional workers to the country rather than illegal migrants who simply want a better life. France and England have already signed an agreement to stop migrants coming through their respective countries.
For Australia, it’s more of the same. Outrage that the government could be so callous as to refuse entry to asylum seekers and process them off shore. Approval that the Government enforces strict Customs and Border control.
Of course, Australia is a notoriously difficult country to get to. It’s a long way from anywhere, it has vast tracts of empty and dangerous land. Should you manage to get here illegally, you have to contact your particular ethnic community for help. And it is increasingly difficult to get that assistance. Jail terms, expensive fines and deportation are the punishment should you be caught helping illegals.
According to the United Nations, the world-wide movement of people is increasing as drought, famine, civil war or despotic rule, creates abject poverty, starvation, homelessness and hopelessness.
Are these five countries creating Fortress Europe, Fortress America and Fortress Australia or are these measures turning their backs on the humanitarian crises that are unfolding?
Is the answer to simply throw open the borders of countries and let whomever wander through as they please? Some more radical groups want this; are they wrong?
What is the solution to illegal migration? Even if we find it, will we be allowed to implement it given that the ‘politically correct, whiney-assed, new age, touchy-feely’ assholes of the world will cry ‘racism’ instead of ‘sovereignty’.
Egalitarianism is all well and good in theory, but for too long that concept has been abused by those would manipulate the system to their own ends. Action, whether it is right or wrong for lawbreakers, has to happen. From there, the evolution of laws will progress to satisfy not only the governments, but the citizens of the country. Illegal immigrants should not have a say in how or what those laws are.
The US has announced it will build a three-layer, 370 mile fence, with a further 500 miles of vehicle barriers along it’s 2000 mile shared border with Mexico. President Bush will also send 6000 National Guardsmen to patrol the borders.
In retaliation, Mexico has threatened “it would file lawsuits in U.S. courts if National Guard troops detain migrants on the border and some officials said they fear the crackdown will force illegal crossers into more perilous areas to avoid detection.”
Over in England, Prime Minister, Tony Blair, has suggested that all foreign prisoners be deported no matter what dangers they may face in their home countries. This comes on the heels of a High Court decision to allow nine Afghans asylum seekers to stay until it was safe to return to their country. The nine, who hijacked a plane and brought it to England, in 2000, had their convictions quashed in May 2003 by Appeal judges on a technicality. From the BBC: “The three judges at the Court of Appeal said on Friday a mistake in directing the jury was the only reason the men's appeal had succeeded.”
In France a new immigration law that favours skilled workers over the unskilled has been passed in the lower house. The new law “requires immigrants from outside the European Union to sign a contract, agreeing to learn French and to respect the principles of the French Republic.”
Here, in Australia, any new Papuan asylum seekers will be processed off shore, as per the policy of the Government.
On one side of the argument, these policies are being seen as racist, xenophobic and an attack on people’s human and civil rights. On the other, these policies are being seen as security measures against terrorism, against criminal elements.
Let me be absolutely clear on one thing: asylum seekers are not refugees. The United Nations High Commission for Refugees sets the policy for who is and is not a refugee. Signatory countries apply that policy.
It remains a country’s sovereign right to decide who can and cannot enter the country. Refugee status may be granted, but another country can accept those refugees.
For America, besieged by vitriol and hate from Islamic fundamentalists and imported criminals, building this fence is the best chance they have of stopping the influx of illegals from Mexico. It is too easier a route for terrorists to enter.
For Mexico, they’re gonna have to suck it up and deal with their internal problems that lead to its citizens wanting to cross the border and not blame someone else.
For England, it is as Tony Blair remarked when the judgement on the Afghans was handed down: “an abuse of common sense”. As to deporting foreign nationals when their incarceration expires, is there some reason why a country should keep someone who does not respect that country’s laws?
For France, it is an attempt to lure skilled and professional workers to the country rather than illegal migrants who simply want a better life. France and England have already signed an agreement to stop migrants coming through their respective countries.
For Australia, it’s more of the same. Outrage that the government could be so callous as to refuse entry to asylum seekers and process them off shore. Approval that the Government enforces strict Customs and Border control.
Of course, Australia is a notoriously difficult country to get to. It’s a long way from anywhere, it has vast tracts of empty and dangerous land. Should you manage to get here illegally, you have to contact your particular ethnic community for help. And it is increasingly difficult to get that assistance. Jail terms, expensive fines and deportation are the punishment should you be caught helping illegals.
According to the United Nations, the world-wide movement of people is increasing as drought, famine, civil war or despotic rule, creates abject poverty, starvation, homelessness and hopelessness.
Are these five countries creating Fortress Europe, Fortress America and Fortress Australia or are these measures turning their backs on the humanitarian crises that are unfolding?
Is the answer to simply throw open the borders of countries and let whomever wander through as they please? Some more radical groups want this; are they wrong?
What is the solution to illegal migration? Even if we find it, will we be allowed to implement it given that the ‘politically correct, whiney-assed, new age, touchy-feely’ assholes of the world will cry ‘racism’ instead of ‘sovereignty’.
Egalitarianism is all well and good in theory, but for too long that concept has been abused by those would manipulate the system to their own ends. Action, whether it is right or wrong for lawbreakers, has to happen. From there, the evolution of laws will progress to satisfy not only the governments, but the citizens of the country. Illegal immigrants should not have a say in how or what those laws are.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Interesting articles
Have been posted on Backspace - the Writer's Place.
The first is by Dr Stephen Hendlin, Ph.d., titled: No Success Like Failure. It gives a brief description of why writers sometimes never make it. It makes you think; okay, it made me think.
The second article is by author JA Konrath, he of the Jack Daniels fetish, and is on what you can do to make your book signing an outstanding success, or, as successful as it can be.
Mr Konrath also has an interesting post from Monday that bears reading. FYI, I think the e-mailer was simply looking for an excuse not to succeed - see the first article I mentioned. It's unfortunate that the writer also tried to lay a guilt trip on Mr Konrath, who genuinely tries to help aspiring writers.
As a number of published authors will tell you, take this advice, or not; this may or may not work for you; find what does work for you. Simple. Blaming someone else for your own inadequacies is tacky.
The first is by Dr Stephen Hendlin, Ph.d., titled: No Success Like Failure. It gives a brief description of why writers sometimes never make it. It makes you think; okay, it made me think.
The second article is by author JA Konrath, he of the Jack Daniels fetish, and is on what you can do to make your book signing an outstanding success, or, as successful as it can be.
Mr Konrath also has an interesting post from Monday that bears reading. FYI, I think the e-mailer was simply looking for an excuse not to succeed - see the first article I mentioned. It's unfortunate that the writer also tried to lay a guilt trip on Mr Konrath, who genuinely tries to help aspiring writers.
As a number of published authors will tell you, take this advice, or not; this may or may not work for you; find what does work for you. Simple. Blaming someone else for your own inadequacies is tacky.
Monday, May 15, 2006
Halfway
I'd like to say it's half-time at the story-a-day marathon over at Forward Motion and break out the oranges, have the coach present a scathingly brilliant game plan and to nod sagely as if it all made sense, but alas, it doesn't work that way.
Yes, it's fifteen stories down with another sixteen to go, but there is no way-station to rest my weary muse and imagination.
The overwhelming majority of my stories free-writing; that is, I'm not using a generator to give me my characters, where the story takes place, an important item or what must happen in the beginning, middle or end. No. This year, it's all from what surrounds me, what creativeness I can raise from the mundane, and that is hard.
Not impossible - at least, not yet - but difficult. On the plus side, it's a challenge and that's what the marathon is all about: challenging yourself; to try something new, or different, to become a better writer.
*sigh*
The story generators are my back-up, my safety net; so far, I've used them for three stories.
Some of the fifteen bear closer scrutiny; I think I have some gems there for novels, others are... well, shite... but the kernals of ideas remain, one day to be nurtured, watered, weeded and re-written. Or not.
Only sixteen to go... woo-hoo. (Note to self: sarcasm doesn't get the work done.)
Yes, it's fifteen stories down with another sixteen to go, but there is no way-station to rest my weary muse and imagination.
The overwhelming majority of my stories free-writing; that is, I'm not using a generator to give me my characters, where the story takes place, an important item or what must happen in the beginning, middle or end. No. This year, it's all from what surrounds me, what creativeness I can raise from the mundane, and that is hard.
Not impossible - at least, not yet - but difficult. On the plus side, it's a challenge and that's what the marathon is all about: challenging yourself; to try something new, or different, to become a better writer.
*sigh*
The story generators are my back-up, my safety net; so far, I've used them for three stories.
Some of the fifteen bear closer scrutiny; I think I have some gems there for novels, others are... well, shite... but the kernals of ideas remain, one day to be nurtured, watered, weeded and re-written. Or not.
Only sixteen to go... woo-hoo. (Note to self: sarcasm doesn't get the work done.)
Friday, May 12, 2006
Deep Breath
This is the title of an Alison Kent I read recently and thought I'd do a review.
Georgia McLain, treasure hunter, is desperate to find the evidence that will exonerate her father in a scandal that saw him sent to, and die, in prison. Harry van Zandt, SG-5 operative is also hunting for the same evidence, but for a different purpose.
When Georgia is blackmailed by a man holding her brother, and others, hostage to team up with Harry to find the evidence, the race to find the treasure begins.
This is the first of Alison's that I've read, and I liked it. For those who like their plots hot and their heroes even hotter, this is the book for you. Harry is a well-rounded,gorgeous alpha male with problems and the beautiful Georgia has her own hang ups. As with most romances, it's about the relationship first and the solution second. Alison weaves a tale of hot sex and wicked deception with a fine hand.
And although I would have liked to have some examples of Georgia's treasure-hunting exploits, the lack doesn't detract from the story. Both characters show grit and determination in seeking out what they both want; but what they need is each other.
The secondary characters are also well-crafted. Finn, Georgia's brother, for example, has been created well enough for his own story. And the villains of the piece, are as sinister and calculating as you'd expect.
A wonderful book, filled with adventure, betrayal and sex. Everything a successful book needs to garner more fans. Alison has created a significant series, and Deep Breath is just one, of hopefully many, produced from her fertile imagination.
Georgia McLain, treasure hunter, is desperate to find the evidence that will exonerate her father in a scandal that saw him sent to, and die, in prison. Harry van Zandt, SG-5 operative is also hunting for the same evidence, but for a different purpose.
When Georgia is blackmailed by a man holding her brother, and others, hostage to team up with Harry to find the evidence, the race to find the treasure begins.
This is the first of Alison's that I've read, and I liked it. For those who like their plots hot and their heroes even hotter, this is the book for you. Harry is a well-rounded,gorgeous alpha male with problems and the beautiful Georgia has her own hang ups. As with most romances, it's about the relationship first and the solution second. Alison weaves a tale of hot sex and wicked deception with a fine hand.
And although I would have liked to have some examples of Georgia's treasure-hunting exploits, the lack doesn't detract from the story. Both characters show grit and determination in seeking out what they both want; but what they need is each other.
The secondary characters are also well-crafted. Finn, Georgia's brother, for example, has been created well enough for his own story. And the villains of the piece, are as sinister and calculating as you'd expect.
A wonderful book, filled with adventure, betrayal and sex. Everything a successful book needs to garner more fans. Alison has created a significant series, and Deep Breath is just one, of hopefully many, produced from her fertile imagination.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Faulty logic
I blog hopped today and found myself over at Holly Lisle's place. She has a link to an ex-Air Force surgeon, Major General Vernon Chong, USAFR, who has written a letter on the war. It's a long rant, so be warned.
I'm going to state up front that one writer's opinion Holly's, will not make me not buy her fiction or read her blog. Every one's entitled to speak up; just don't expect others to agree.
This letter, though... the more I read, the more I thought WTF? This man may be an ex-member of the defence force, but he sure has some faulty logic. For example:
2. Why were we attacked?
Envy of our position, our success, and our freedoms....
No, your foreign policy, exploitation of third world countries and refusal to negotiate fairly with the rest of the world, is to blame; nothing else.
...We would of course have no future support from other nations, for fear of reprisals and for the reason that they would see, we are impotent and cannot help them.
I'm astonished at the lack of faith and committment to the US here, and the fact that the general sees the US as 'impotent'. FYI? We can help ourselves, thanks.
...They will pick off the other non-Muslim nations, one at a time. It will be increasingly easier for them. They already hold Spain hostage. It doesn't matter whether it was right or wrong for Spain to withdraw its troops from Iraq. Spain did it because the Muslim terrorists bombed their train and told them to withdraw the troops. Anything else they want Spain to do will be done. Spain is finished.
This is an outrageous statement. Every nation has the right to vote for whomever they wish, just like the US. Muslim nations want to be left alone without the interference of the West. On a business level, they need us as much as we need them. As the for comments about Spain, that is reprehensible. Spain has not given in to the Basque Separatists, nor will they give in to terrorists. Don't blame a nation for one man's decision!
The General goes on to predict France will fall next because it has a population that is 20% muslim. Does the General think that every one of those 20% are radical fundamentalists, dedicated to the downfall of the West, too?
If we can't stop the Muslims, how could anyone else? The sheer bloody arrogance of this statement appalls me. It is not now, nor ever been about stopping the Muslims. It's about treating them with the respect they deserve and an understanding of their faith and they way they do business - which is not the American way.
So, how can we lose the war?
Again, the answer is simple. We can lose the war by "imploding." That is, defeating ourselves by refusing to recognize the enemy and their purpose, and really digging in and lending full support to the war effort. If we are united, there is no way that we can lose. If we continue to be divided, there is no way that we can win!
And still, the US fails to recognise the enemy. It is not in a person, people, nation or army; the enemy is in an ideology that the American way is good, right and everyone should be forced into complying. If not, you are the enemy.
This is war! For the duration, we are going to have to give up some of the civil rights we have become accustomed to. We had better be prepared to lose some of our civil rights temporarily or we will most certainly lose all of them permanently.
Given the way Representatives are presenting bill after bill undermining civil and human rights - See Bill Napoli, see the debate on Roe vs Wade - Americans shouldn't worry about giving up civil rights for the duration, they'll be taken away long before this war ever ends.
The letter goes on to complain about the criticism of US forces for prisoner abuse. Suggesting that it's okay because these were the 'same type' of people who tortured civilians for Saddam Hussein. The 'same type'? So, because they were middle-eastern in appearance, they can be tarred with the same brush? Does this mean that America no longer believes in justice? That they no longer need the perpetrators, simply someone who was there? What a mockery! Blame your media, blame the world's media, hell blame those dumb-ass soldiers who did it and took pictures!
And finally, name any Muslim countries throughout the world that allow freedom of speech, freedom of thought, freedom of religion, freedom of the press, equal rights for anyone -- let alone everyone, equal status or any status for women, or that have been productive in one single way that contributes to the good of the world.
Islam isn't about materialism. Islam isn't about the mighty dollar or commercialism. Islam is not about a global view. In relation to the above comment, Islam is about living in peace with the neighbours, it's about living within the means produced and the tenets of Mohammad. It's about giving to the poor, embracing difference, supporting the weak and creating community. Sound familiar? Oh, FYI? It was the Muslims who saved art, medicine, agriculture and architecture for the world during the Dark Ages.
Democracies don't have their freedoms taken away from them by some external military force. Instead, they give their freedoms away, politically correct piece by politically correct piece. Maybe the General has an insight into his own country after all.
The General then goes on to compare the US to Rome.
I'm sickened by this self-aggrandizing, ignorant, inflammatory piece of propagandist shit. It's full of half-truths and outright lies, demonizing all Muslims, as the Viet Cong were demonized during that particular war. America lost that one, too.
This kind of bullshit is lethal. Instead of urging Americans to understand, to listen and understand what the other side is saying, it says: "kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out." As if dialogue and negotiation is just all too difficult.
You wanna win this war? Then look to your own policies, see how they affect other nations, see how greedy your politicians and business people are in stripping the third world, see how your dealings disadvantage every other nation but your own because you threaten embargoes for non-compliance. And when you see what is truly happening, and why, then, maybe, your government will be ready for peace.
I'm going to state up front that one writer's opinion Holly's, will not make me not buy her fiction or read her blog. Every one's entitled to speak up; just don't expect others to agree.
This letter, though... the more I read, the more I thought WTF? This man may be an ex-member of the defence force, but he sure has some faulty logic. For example:
2. Why were we attacked?
Envy of our position, our success, and our freedoms....
No, your foreign policy, exploitation of third world countries and refusal to negotiate fairly with the rest of the world, is to blame; nothing else.
...We would of course have no future support from other nations, for fear of reprisals and for the reason that they would see, we are impotent and cannot help them.
I'm astonished at the lack of faith and committment to the US here, and the fact that the general sees the US as 'impotent'. FYI? We can help ourselves, thanks.
...They will pick off the other non-Muslim nations, one at a time. It will be increasingly easier for them. They already hold Spain hostage. It doesn't matter whether it was right or wrong for Spain to withdraw its troops from Iraq. Spain did it because the Muslim terrorists bombed their train and told them to withdraw the troops. Anything else they want Spain to do will be done. Spain is finished.
This is an outrageous statement. Every nation has the right to vote for whomever they wish, just like the US. Muslim nations want to be left alone without the interference of the West. On a business level, they need us as much as we need them. As the for comments about Spain, that is reprehensible. Spain has not given in to the Basque Separatists, nor will they give in to terrorists. Don't blame a nation for one man's decision!
The General goes on to predict France will fall next because it has a population that is 20% muslim. Does the General think that every one of those 20% are radical fundamentalists, dedicated to the downfall of the West, too?
If we can't stop the Muslims, how could anyone else? The sheer bloody arrogance of this statement appalls me. It is not now, nor ever been about stopping the Muslims. It's about treating them with the respect they deserve and an understanding of their faith and they way they do business - which is not the American way.
So, how can we lose the war?
Again, the answer is simple. We can lose the war by "imploding." That is, defeating ourselves by refusing to recognize the enemy and their purpose, and really digging in and lending full support to the war effort. If we are united, there is no way that we can lose. If we continue to be divided, there is no way that we can win!
And still, the US fails to recognise the enemy. It is not in a person, people, nation or army; the enemy is in an ideology that the American way is good, right and everyone should be forced into complying. If not, you are the enemy.
This is war! For the duration, we are going to have to give up some of the civil rights we have become accustomed to. We had better be prepared to lose some of our civil rights temporarily or we will most certainly lose all of them permanently.
Given the way Representatives are presenting bill after bill undermining civil and human rights - See Bill Napoli, see the debate on Roe vs Wade - Americans shouldn't worry about giving up civil rights for the duration, they'll be taken away long before this war ever ends.
The letter goes on to complain about the criticism of US forces for prisoner abuse. Suggesting that it's okay because these were the 'same type' of people who tortured civilians for Saddam Hussein. The 'same type'? So, because they were middle-eastern in appearance, they can be tarred with the same brush? Does this mean that America no longer believes in justice? That they no longer need the perpetrators, simply someone who was there? What a mockery! Blame your media, blame the world's media, hell blame those dumb-ass soldiers who did it and took pictures!
And finally, name any Muslim countries throughout the world that allow freedom of speech, freedom of thought, freedom of religion, freedom of the press, equal rights for anyone -- let alone everyone, equal status or any status for women, or that have been productive in one single way that contributes to the good of the world.
Islam isn't about materialism. Islam isn't about the mighty dollar or commercialism. Islam is not about a global view. In relation to the above comment, Islam is about living in peace with the neighbours, it's about living within the means produced and the tenets of Mohammad. It's about giving to the poor, embracing difference, supporting the weak and creating community. Sound familiar? Oh, FYI? It was the Muslims who saved art, medicine, agriculture and architecture for the world during the Dark Ages.
Democracies don't have their freedoms taken away from them by some external military force. Instead, they give their freedoms away, politically correct piece by politically correct piece. Maybe the General has an insight into his own country after all.
The General then goes on to compare the US to Rome.
I'm sickened by this self-aggrandizing, ignorant, inflammatory piece of propagandist shit. It's full of half-truths and outright lies, demonizing all Muslims, as the Viet Cong were demonized during that particular war. America lost that one, too.
This kind of bullshit is lethal. Instead of urging Americans to understand, to listen and understand what the other side is saying, it says: "kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out." As if dialogue and negotiation is just all too difficult.
You wanna win this war? Then look to your own policies, see how they affect other nations, see how greedy your politicians and business people are in stripping the third world, see how your dealings disadvantage every other nation but your own because you threaten embargoes for non-compliance. And when you see what is truly happening, and why, then, maybe, your government will be ready for peace.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Rejection!
Hah! No, not me, not yet. Thought I'd give a signpost to a brilliant post by PBW. It's all about how writers would write rejection letters. Go. Look. Laugh. And fear not an editors rejection.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Music remembered
I could have written a post about the miners in Tasmania, but I think that's been covered ad nauseum. I could have written about the loss of one of our leading journalist, Richard Carlton, but that's too close since he was an integral part of my degree. All I'll say is that he was a hell of a journalist and in inspiration.
No. I shan't write about those two major events. Instead... something else.
As you know, I'm writing a story a day for the FM marathon. So far, I've beaten my ears senseless with Mike Oldfield, Shawn Colvin, The Pretenders, Fleetwood Mac, Robbie Williams...
Music engenders in the writer, a certain mood conducive to the production of a certin type of story. After eight stories, I could see a similarity appearing that I didn't want, and can edit later.
But tonight, I wanted something different, and boy did I find it!
Rummaging around in the dungeon, I found some music gems I simply had to play again.
First up was Sky. Anyone remember them? I found an album that went even further back: Bo Hansson's Lord of the Rings soundtrack, from, oh, I think it was the seventies. Now I have playing in my ears the most precious gem of all. An album that no matter how long ago I played it - and let's not get into that - each note, each song, each emotion is remembered: Mike Batt's Tarot Suite.
These three albums are absolutely perfect for me to write to. Mike Batt especially because I remember writing some of my first pieces to the soundtrack and those stories had something special; not enough to send out, but... something.
Gosh, what a blast from the past. I'll probably be hunting for my Alan Parson's Project albums next...
No. I shan't write about those two major events. Instead... something else.
As you know, I'm writing a story a day for the FM marathon. So far, I've beaten my ears senseless with Mike Oldfield, Shawn Colvin, The Pretenders, Fleetwood Mac, Robbie Williams...
Music engenders in the writer, a certain mood conducive to the production of a certin type of story. After eight stories, I could see a similarity appearing that I didn't want, and can edit later.
But tonight, I wanted something different, and boy did I find it!
Rummaging around in the dungeon, I found some music gems I simply had to play again.
First up was Sky. Anyone remember them? I found an album that went even further back: Bo Hansson's Lord of the Rings soundtrack, from, oh, I think it was the seventies. Now I have playing in my ears the most precious gem of all. An album that no matter how long ago I played it - and let's not get into that - each note, each song, each emotion is remembered: Mike Batt's Tarot Suite.
These three albums are absolutely perfect for me to write to. Mike Batt especially because I remember writing some of my first pieces to the soundtrack and those stories had something special; not enough to send out, but... something.
Gosh, what a blast from the past. I'll probably be hunting for my Alan Parson's Project albums next...
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Waiting for Manners
My mother has a saying laced with sarcasm: "It's nice to be expected... and not arrive."
I've always loved that, because it's a not-so-subtle dig at other people's... dubious behaviour.
Friday, I spent an hour online waiting for an overseas family member to come online and who failed to do so, even though it was pre-arranged. It's Sunday night, and there is still no word from them, not an e-mail, nor a Skype icon.
It's a special day, today in Denmark for my niece. She's being confirmed (and what's up with that? Is it that until she has a Confirmation, she's nobody?). It's a big deal in Denmark and we wanted to give her a special call from Australia. Not to be. Their computer remained off.
Such behaviour pisses me off, but I'll forgive them because they're family. My brother, he'll have an excuse but I'll know that he's busy, or forgetful, or closer to the truth, that he simply didn't have the heart to tell us that junior didn't want to talk to us. Others, though, are not so fortunate.
My sister, for example, has been trying - subtly - to move her housemate on. The housemate is a woman who complains alot: about El's Paganism, music, food choices, lifestyle choices, every-bloody-thing, yet is happy to pay a pittance as rent. (Hell, I pay more and I'm looking after my aged parent!)
Anyway, a friend of El's came around last weekend and the two got to chatting. While El was sitting not five feet away, A. said to D. "I'm so over living with other people." Bad enough, but what came next was astonishing. She's moving - yay! - to another city - bigger Yay! - and is moving into a flat that has a rent six times what she pays my sister. Concerned, my sister suggested she share the flat, to which A. replied: "Oh, no, I can easily afford it."
WTF????
It would do me no good to be outraged - my stress levels couldn't take it - this is El's problem, but jeez! What the hell is wrong with people? Where have all the courtesy gone?
To hell with being offended if a man opens the door for me, I say 'thank you' and leave it at that. Men can offer their seat to me, touch the small of my back and guide me through a crowd, pay for dinner and a movie if they've invited me out and I won't get my feminism in a knot; it's simple courtesy.
But women. Watch out for them, for they'll still be smiling when they spit in your eye. Should I have the misfortune of meeting A. again - and yes, I have met her - the cold, arrogant politeness my mother taught me, that I don't get to use very often, will come to the fore.
I'd say A's a bitch, but so's my dog, and Saxon's got better manners.
Common courtesy costs nothing, but gains you much. The next time you open your mouth to say what you really mean, think about the consequences, maybe you'll moderate what you wanted to say and keep a friend; and maybe you're still an unevolved fuck-knuckle who doesn't give a shit.
I've always loved that, because it's a not-so-subtle dig at other people's... dubious behaviour.
Friday, I spent an hour online waiting for an overseas family member to come online and who failed to do so, even though it was pre-arranged. It's Sunday night, and there is still no word from them, not an e-mail, nor a Skype icon.
It's a special day, today in Denmark for my niece. She's being confirmed (and what's up with that? Is it that until she has a Confirmation, she's nobody?). It's a big deal in Denmark and we wanted to give her a special call from Australia. Not to be. Their computer remained off.
Such behaviour pisses me off, but I'll forgive them because they're family. My brother, he'll have an excuse but I'll know that he's busy, or forgetful, or closer to the truth, that he simply didn't have the heart to tell us that junior didn't want to talk to us. Others, though, are not so fortunate.
My sister, for example, has been trying - subtly - to move her housemate on. The housemate is a woman who complains alot: about El's Paganism, music, food choices, lifestyle choices, every-bloody-thing, yet is happy to pay a pittance as rent. (Hell, I pay more and I'm looking after my aged parent!)
Anyway, a friend of El's came around last weekend and the two got to chatting. While El was sitting not five feet away, A. said to D. "I'm so over living with other people." Bad enough, but what came next was astonishing. She's moving - yay! - to another city - bigger Yay! - and is moving into a flat that has a rent six times what she pays my sister. Concerned, my sister suggested she share the flat, to which A. replied: "Oh, no, I can easily afford it."
WTF????
It would do me no good to be outraged - my stress levels couldn't take it - this is El's problem, but jeez! What the hell is wrong with people? Where have all the courtesy gone?
To hell with being offended if a man opens the door for me, I say 'thank you' and leave it at that. Men can offer their seat to me, touch the small of my back and guide me through a crowd, pay for dinner and a movie if they've invited me out and I won't get my feminism in a knot; it's simple courtesy.
But women. Watch out for them, for they'll still be smiling when they spit in your eye. Should I have the misfortune of meeting A. again - and yes, I have met her - the cold, arrogant politeness my mother taught me, that I don't get to use very often, will come to the fore.
I'd say A's a bitch, but so's my dog, and Saxon's got better manners.
Common courtesy costs nothing, but gains you much. The next time you open your mouth to say what you really mean, think about the consequences, maybe you'll moderate what you wanted to say and keep a friend; and maybe you're still an unevolved fuck-knuckle who doesn't give a shit.
Friday, May 05, 2006
Language skills
Ah, life with the English language! It can be misinterpreted, misunderstood and misplaced. Here, for your entertainment, are some... shall we say, twisted definitions?
Abdicate: To give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.
Account: A countess' husband.
Accrue: The people who run a ship.
Acoustic: A stick used to play pool.
Arbitrator: A cook that leaves Arby's to work at McDonald's.
Asset: A little donkey.
Atheism: A non-prophet organization.
Avoidable: What a bullfighter tries to do.
Benign: What you be after you be eight.
Bernadette: The act of torching a mortgage.
Boss: Someone who is early when you are late and late when you are early.
Burglarize: What a crook sees with.
Cannibal: Someone who is fed up with people.
Classic: A book that people praise, but do not read.
Clothes dryer: An appliance designed to eat socks.
Coffee: A person who is coughed upon.
College: The four-year period when parents are permitted access to the telephone.
Committee: A body that keeps minutes and wastes hours.
Counterfeiters: Workers who put together kitchen cabinets.
Derange: Where dee buffalo roam.
Divorce: The future tense of marriage.
Eclipse: What an Italian barber does for a living.
Egotist: Someone me-deep in conversation
Feedback: The inevitable result when a baby doesn't appreciate the strained carrots.
Flabbergasted: Appalled over how much weight you have gained.
Flatulence: Emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller.
Gossip: A person who will never tell a lie if the truth will do more damage.
Grandparents: The people who think your children are wonderful even though they're sure you're not raising them right.
Grocery list: What you spend half-an-hour writing, then forget to take with you to the store.
Handkerchief: Cold storage.
Hangnail: What you hang your coat on.
Heroes: What a guy in a boat does.
Hors d'oeuvres: A sandwich cut into 20 pieces.
Impregnable: A woman whose memory of labour is still vivid.
Independent: How we want our children to be, as long as they do everything we say.
Myth: A female moth.
Negligent: Describes a condition in which you absentmindedly answer the door in your nightgown.
Normalize: 20-20 vision.
Oily: The opposite of late.
Opportunist: A person who, when they fall into a river, starts taking a bath.
Paradox: Two physicians.
Parasites: What you see from the top of the Eiffel Tower.
Pharmacist: A helper on the farm.
Primate: Removing your spouse from in front of the TV.
Professor: Someone who talks in someone else's sleep.
Psychologist: A man who watches everyone else when a beautiful girl enters the room.
Recliner: Mom's nickname for Dad.
Relief: What trees do in the spring.
Rubberneck: What you do to relax your wife.
Seamstress: Describes 250 pounds in a size six.
Secret: Something you tell to one person at a time.
Selfish: What the owner of a seafood store does.
Skeleton: A bunch of bones with the person scraped off.
Subdued: Like, a guy, who like, works on one of those, like, submarines.
Sudafed: Bringing litigation against a government.
Tomorrow: One of the greatest labor-saving devices of today.
Toothache: The pain that drives you to extraction.
Vegetarian: Old Indian word for bad hunter.
Wrinkles: Something other people have. You have character lines.
Yawn: An honest opinion, openly expressed.
I suspect some people, simply don't have enough to do with their lives if they're creating these. Then again that's what writers do: manipulate the language for our entertainment.
And I've got to say, the list is pretty snicker worthy!
Abdicate: To give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.
Account: A countess' husband.
Accrue: The people who run a ship.
Acoustic: A stick used to play pool.
Arbitrator: A cook that leaves Arby's to work at McDonald's.
Asset: A little donkey.
Atheism: A non-prophet organization.
Avoidable: What a bullfighter tries to do.
Benign: What you be after you be eight.
Bernadette: The act of torching a mortgage.
Boss: Someone who is early when you are late and late when you are early.
Burglarize: What a crook sees with.
Cannibal: Someone who is fed up with people.
Classic: A book that people praise, but do not read.
Clothes dryer: An appliance designed to eat socks.
Coffee: A person who is coughed upon.
College: The four-year period when parents are permitted access to the telephone.
Committee: A body that keeps minutes and wastes hours.
Counterfeiters: Workers who put together kitchen cabinets.
Derange: Where dee buffalo roam.
Divorce: The future tense of marriage.
Eclipse: What an Italian barber does for a living.
Egotist: Someone me-deep in conversation
Feedback: The inevitable result when a baby doesn't appreciate the strained carrots.
Flabbergasted: Appalled over how much weight you have gained.
Flatulence: Emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller.
Gossip: A person who will never tell a lie if the truth will do more damage.
Grandparents: The people who think your children are wonderful even though they're sure you're not raising them right.
Grocery list: What you spend half-an-hour writing, then forget to take with you to the store.
Handkerchief: Cold storage.
Hangnail: What you hang your coat on.
Heroes: What a guy in a boat does.
Hors d'oeuvres: A sandwich cut into 20 pieces.
Impregnable: A woman whose memory of labour is still vivid.
Independent: How we want our children to be, as long as they do everything we say.
Myth: A female moth.
Negligent: Describes a condition in which you absentmindedly answer the door in your nightgown.
Normalize: 20-20 vision.
Oily: The opposite of late.
Opportunist: A person who, when they fall into a river, starts taking a bath.
Paradox: Two physicians.
Parasites: What you see from the top of the Eiffel Tower.
Pharmacist: A helper on the farm.
Primate: Removing your spouse from in front of the TV.
Professor: Someone who talks in someone else's sleep.
Psychologist: A man who watches everyone else when a beautiful girl enters the room.
Recliner: Mom's nickname for Dad.
Relief: What trees do in the spring.
Rubberneck: What you do to relax your wife.
Seamstress: Describes 250 pounds in a size six.
Secret: Something you tell to one person at a time.
Selfish: What the owner of a seafood store does.
Skeleton: A bunch of bones with the person scraped off.
Subdued: Like, a guy, who like, works on one of those, like, submarines.
Sudafed: Bringing litigation against a government.
Tomorrow: One of the greatest labor-saving devices of today.
Toothache: The pain that drives you to extraction.
Vegetarian: Old Indian word for bad hunter.
Wrinkles: Something other people have. You have character lines.
Yawn: An honest opinion, openly expressed.
I suspect some people, simply don't have enough to do with their lives if they're creating these. Then again that's what writers do: manipulate the language for our entertainment.
And I've got to say, the list is pretty snicker worthy!
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Busy, Busy, Busy
It's all go here at Casa Del Patrick. Between my day job, the story marathon, vet visits for my arthritic dog and looking after an aged parent, I'm not having a lot of time left to do anything else - like read.
But I no complain. The first is frustrating, the second exciting, the third worrying and the fourth... hmm... interesting. Parents have such wonderful tales to tell about their formative years... They're an inspiration. While I'd like time to squeeze in a book or two, this month that aint gonna be possible.
Oh. Weekends to ask? Well, that's shopping, housework, visit from the sister. All up, I have Sunday morning free and that is for sleeping in or surfin' dem cyberwaves looking for treats. And I'm not a night owl.
Curiously enough, I like it this way. I like order; chaos makes me crazy if there's too much of it.
There is, of course, the occasional day off, but that, too, is planned. Jesus, I can be anal, can't I. Anyway, today I sent off an application to attend the Medieval Feast at Conflux 3. At conventions, they're pretty popular, so I'm hoping to get a ticket. Yep, singular. Just me. And I can misbehave as much as I like, mwahaha!
In the meantime, I have a story to write. I think this time, I'll go the superhero route, with a few detours on the 'super' bit. I'm turning this into a comedy. I fully expect after the story is done, that inspiration will hit for the next story. May is a long month, so the creative juices had better be flowing. I don't want to rely on the story generators, but I will if I have to - they're such fun.
Hmm... what's a good name for a superhero with no idea?
But I no complain. The first is frustrating, the second exciting, the third worrying and the fourth... hmm... interesting. Parents have such wonderful tales to tell about their formative years... They're an inspiration. While I'd like time to squeeze in a book or two, this month that aint gonna be possible.
Oh. Weekends to ask? Well, that's shopping, housework, visit from the sister. All up, I have Sunday morning free and that is for sleeping in or surfin' dem cyberwaves looking for treats. And I'm not a night owl.
Curiously enough, I like it this way. I like order; chaos makes me crazy if there's too much of it.
There is, of course, the occasional day off, but that, too, is planned. Jesus, I can be anal, can't I. Anyway, today I sent off an application to attend the Medieval Feast at Conflux 3. At conventions, they're pretty popular, so I'm hoping to get a ticket. Yep, singular. Just me. And I can misbehave as much as I like, mwahaha!
In the meantime, I have a story to write. I think this time, I'll go the superhero route, with a few detours on the 'super' bit. I'm turning this into a comedy. I fully expect after the story is done, that inspiration will hit for the next story. May is a long month, so the creative juices had better be flowing. I don't want to rely on the story generators, but I will if I have to - they're such fun.
Hmm... what's a good name for a superhero with no idea?
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
OZ words
Just like the competition the Washington Post holds, so do we Down Under enjoy a good word game. For these, only one letter is changed. I wonder though, do you have to be an Australian to understand these?
billabonk: to make passionate love beside a waterhole
bludgie: a partner who doesn't work but is kept as a pet.
dodgeridoo: a fake indigenous artefact.
fair drinkum: good quality Aussie wine.
flatypus: a cat which has been run over by a vehicle.
shagman: an unemployed male roaming the Australian bush in search of sexual activity.
yabble: the unintelligible language of Australian freshwater crustaceans.
bushwanker: a pretentious drongo who reckons he's above average when it comes to handling himself in the scrub.
shornbag: a particularly attractive naked sheep.
billabonk: to make passionate love beside a waterhole
bludgie: a partner who doesn't work but is kept as a pet.
dodgeridoo: a fake indigenous artefact.
fair drinkum: good quality Aussie wine.
flatypus: a cat which has been run over by a vehicle.
shagman: an unemployed male roaming the Australian bush in search of sexual activity.
yabble: the unintelligible language of Australian freshwater crustaceans.
bushwanker: a pretentious drongo who reckons he's above average when it comes to handling himself in the scrub.
shornbag: a particularly attractive naked sheep.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Off and Running
Over at Forward Motion it's the Story-a-day marathon.
Yep, that's writing a short story every day. For me, anyway. There are four levels to choose from: Apprentice (10 stories), Journeyman (15), Master (20) and Insane (31). I fall into the last category.
Why? Because, on a fundamental level, I cannot resist a challenge and push myself. I also think it has something to do with the structure. You have 31 days to write 31 stories. They can be via a story generator, or not.
Before you think this is easy, think again. When I first decided to do this challenge back in 2003, I'd never written a short story; never thought I could... they were too restrictive. I'd written books. Whole 400+ page books. How could I possibly have a beginning, middle and end in less than ten thousand words? Or five thousand words?
I pushed myself that year. Pushed hard to achieve the covetted gold pip. Not for me the silver or bronze, I went for gold. And did it, too. The stories... well, they need work. Not much, but they do need it. Better yet, they can be edited down for flash fiction, edited for the size they are or expanded to build novels out of.
Since then, I have done the challenge to boost my store of shorties. This gives me a cache to dip into for submissions. I knew one day I'd be ready for that step, and if that day ever came, I'd better have a good store to choose from.
So, I'm off and running. Two stories done. Not the most cheerful creations, but each has a kernal of solid writing, and that's what's important. You can't edit what you haven't written. You can't submit what's not there.
All I have to do now, is think of another twenty-nine stories to write!
Yep, that's writing a short story every day. For me, anyway. There are four levels to choose from: Apprentice (10 stories), Journeyman (15), Master (20) and Insane (31). I fall into the last category.
Why? Because, on a fundamental level, I cannot resist a challenge and push myself. I also think it has something to do with the structure. You have 31 days to write 31 stories. They can be via a story generator, or not.
Before you think this is easy, think again. When I first decided to do this challenge back in 2003, I'd never written a short story; never thought I could... they were too restrictive. I'd written books. Whole 400+ page books. How could I possibly have a beginning, middle and end in less than ten thousand words? Or five thousand words?
I pushed myself that year. Pushed hard to achieve the covetted gold pip. Not for me the silver or bronze, I went for gold. And did it, too. The stories... well, they need work. Not much, but they do need it. Better yet, they can be edited down for flash fiction, edited for the size they are or expanded to build novels out of.
Since then, I have done the challenge to boost my store of shorties. This gives me a cache to dip into for submissions. I knew one day I'd be ready for that step, and if that day ever came, I'd better have a good store to choose from.
So, I'm off and running. Two stories done. Not the most cheerful creations, but each has a kernal of solid writing, and that's what's important. You can't edit what you haven't written. You can't submit what's not there.
All I have to do now, is think of another twenty-nine stories to write!
Monday, May 01, 2006
They're at it again...
Yep. You'd think that after the debacle of last year's 25th anniversary bash of the Romance Writers of America, they'd become more temperate, if only to spare themselves that kind of public embarrassment ever again. Nope.
The RWA has sent out the ratings for the first round of judging for the RITA awards. Again, they have embroiled themselves in a public conflagration. I just gotta shake my head.
For an explanation and for comments, go Alison Kent's page, or Jamie Sobrato's page since she is the subject of the... er, 'judging'; and for a bitingly witty comment on the whole situation, see the incomparable Paperback Writer and her SOILS (Sisters of the Immaculate Love Scene) entry.
My own thoughts, after I stopped rolling my eyes, are these: Women like to read romance, otherwise, it wouldn't be so popular. Now, here comes the tough bit, so prepare yourselves. Believe it or not, sex between two consenting adults... happens. It happens every day, whether the couple is married or not.
The judges, it would seem, don't want any books where it happens outside the alleged 'sanctity' of marriage. Obviously, in the modern era, the twenty-first century, they would prefer to hold on to their puritanical moral rectitude and deny that.
Erotica still doesn't have its own award, yet it's a growing area of romance. If people didn't like reading the stuff, they wouldn't buy it. We have gone beyond what happens behind closed doors, stays there; the readers want to be voyeurs (though I doubt many would admit it), thanks very much. We want the nitty-gritty, though not in stark, mean-spirited euphimisms, but real-life emotions and appropriately named body parts. It's a part of life, damn it - and occasionally, a learning experience. We want steam, we want sex, in our romance and our lives.
There are, of course, books out there that have the fade out as the door to the honeymoon suite closes. Fine. Read them if that's what blows your skirt up. But if this is the kind of book the judges want to see more of, then it is the death knell for romance books as a whole. You cannot put the genie back in the bottle and readers will not forget the sex scenes beautifully crafted by Nora, or Alison Kent, or Maggie Shayne or Christine Feehan or Rebecca York or a squillion other romance writers we've read; we'll simply continue to write our own if need be, and share the books their in.
It would not surprise me if the RWA membership roster started dropping with this latest insult to women and the fiction they read. Hopefully, the public condemnation of the judges, their bias, their prejudice and their rating system, will serve as a wake up call. Otherwise, more and more writers will refuse to enter their books and the RITAs will become an insular, self-serving, body corporate smug-fest, rather than celebrating Women's Fiction.
And FYI? I'm off to Kent up my work. (see Paul Darcy's comment on PBW's site.)
The RWA has sent out the ratings for the first round of judging for the RITA awards. Again, they have embroiled themselves in a public conflagration. I just gotta shake my head.
For an explanation and for comments, go Alison Kent's page, or Jamie Sobrato's page since she is the subject of the... er, 'judging'; and for a bitingly witty comment on the whole situation, see the incomparable Paperback Writer and her SOILS (Sisters of the Immaculate Love Scene) entry.
My own thoughts, after I stopped rolling my eyes, are these: Women like to read romance, otherwise, it wouldn't be so popular. Now, here comes the tough bit, so prepare yourselves. Believe it or not, sex between two consenting adults... happens. It happens every day, whether the couple is married or not.
The judges, it would seem, don't want any books where it happens outside the alleged 'sanctity' of marriage. Obviously, in the modern era, the twenty-first century, they would prefer to hold on to their puritanical moral rectitude and deny that.
Erotica still doesn't have its own award, yet it's a growing area of romance. If people didn't like reading the stuff, they wouldn't buy it. We have gone beyond what happens behind closed doors, stays there; the readers want to be voyeurs (though I doubt many would admit it), thanks very much. We want the nitty-gritty, though not in stark, mean-spirited euphimisms, but real-life emotions and appropriately named body parts. It's a part of life, damn it - and occasionally, a learning experience. We want steam, we want sex, in our romance and our lives.
There are, of course, books out there that have the fade out as the door to the honeymoon suite closes. Fine. Read them if that's what blows your skirt up. But if this is the kind of book the judges want to see more of, then it is the death knell for romance books as a whole. You cannot put the genie back in the bottle and readers will not forget the sex scenes beautifully crafted by Nora, or Alison Kent, or Maggie Shayne or Christine Feehan or Rebecca York or a squillion other romance writers we've read; we'll simply continue to write our own if need be, and share the books their in.
It would not surprise me if the RWA membership roster started dropping with this latest insult to women and the fiction they read. Hopefully, the public condemnation of the judges, their bias, their prejudice and their rating system, will serve as a wake up call. Otherwise, more and more writers will refuse to enter their books and the RITAs will become an insular, self-serving, body corporate smug-fest, rather than celebrating Women's Fiction.
And FYI? I'm off to Kent up my work. (see Paul Darcy's comment on PBW's site.)
Saturday, April 29, 2006
And why not?
For the past couple of weeks, I've had cable (satellite, really) teev. It's certainly an interesting piece of entertainment; no more am I restricted to three commercial and two non-commercial stations.
Of particular interest, at least to me, are the History, Biography and Discovery channels along with... um... the Cartoon Network and TV1.
Recently, the History Channel has shown a number of programs on predicting the future and aliens. (Why is it that the two seem to always be shown together?) It's as if the programmers put both together, neither will be believed, and anyone who turns up on one of these shows - no matter how believable - are immediately branded as crackpots, liars or grifters.
Do I believe in the likes of Mother Shipton, Nostradamus and Edgar Cayce? Yep, sure do. Do I believe in aliens? Yep, sure do.
With the first question, they have predicted the same things accurately, centuries apart. With the second, I've heard too many stories from friends and family, seen to many strange things in this world for it not to be true.
Why should we be the only one's in the Universe? Because old Christian teachings tell us so? They also said it was heretical to mention that the world wasn't, in fact, flat, nor was Earth at the centre of all things. Because there's been no definitive proof? There's plenty around if you take into consideration the similarity of stories world-wide and Area 51. Because scientist and the military are always coming up with excuses or reasons? Swamp gas, a meteor, lights bouncing off an atmospheric anomaly, a prototype or simply "you didn't see anything" to quote the penguins.
I can understand why the world isn't ready for such a revelation, but to keep denying it with such lies is wrong... Think about this: the scientists of the world can only use what has been discovered previously and what they know as 'absolute truths' to search for other entities. Once upon a time, that 'absolute truth' was that the solar system revolved around earth; that if you went too far, you'd fall off the edge, that there was nothing smaller than what the eye could see, that an eclipse was a harbinger of doom, that earthquakes, floods, droughts and hurricanes were a sign from the gods of their displeasure. These were 'absolute truths'.
Are there things we can't see or detect because we don't yet have the technology? That is an Absolute Truth. What's beyond the light spectrum we know, for example? Why can't we travel at light speed? (Apart from the obvious that our frail bodies can't handle it, that is.) Lasers, microwaves, satellites, space flight, book readers were sci-fi, yet we have them now and the future is rushing towards us with ever increasing fevour.
Anyway... the point is, is that I'm astonished by the lack of imagination from these naysayers. People recalling what happened to them is a boon to us writers. We can take their stories and make up similar stuff to write. It doesn't have to be a confrontational episode, it can be any-damn-thing. These people open our minds to what's possible.
The soothsayers are even more wonderful and scary. What of the future? For sci-fi writers, anything is possible with a leg up from the most famous psychics in history.
So I say again, and why not?
Of particular interest, at least to me, are the History, Biography and Discovery channels along with... um... the Cartoon Network and TV1.
Recently, the History Channel has shown a number of programs on predicting the future and aliens. (Why is it that the two seem to always be shown together?) It's as if the programmers put both together, neither will be believed, and anyone who turns up on one of these shows - no matter how believable - are immediately branded as crackpots, liars or grifters.
Do I believe in the likes of Mother Shipton, Nostradamus and Edgar Cayce? Yep, sure do. Do I believe in aliens? Yep, sure do.
With the first question, they have predicted the same things accurately, centuries apart. With the second, I've heard too many stories from friends and family, seen to many strange things in this world for it not to be true.
Why should we be the only one's in the Universe? Because old Christian teachings tell us so? They also said it was heretical to mention that the world wasn't, in fact, flat, nor was Earth at the centre of all things. Because there's been no definitive proof? There's plenty around if you take into consideration the similarity of stories world-wide and Area 51. Because scientist and the military are always coming up with excuses or reasons? Swamp gas, a meteor, lights bouncing off an atmospheric anomaly, a prototype or simply "you didn't see anything" to quote the penguins.
I can understand why the world isn't ready for such a revelation, but to keep denying it with such lies is wrong... Think about this: the scientists of the world can only use what has been discovered previously and what they know as 'absolute truths' to search for other entities. Once upon a time, that 'absolute truth' was that the solar system revolved around earth; that if you went too far, you'd fall off the edge, that there was nothing smaller than what the eye could see, that an eclipse was a harbinger of doom, that earthquakes, floods, droughts and hurricanes were a sign from the gods of their displeasure. These were 'absolute truths'.
Are there things we can't see or detect because we don't yet have the technology? That is an Absolute Truth. What's beyond the light spectrum we know, for example? Why can't we travel at light speed? (Apart from the obvious that our frail bodies can't handle it, that is.) Lasers, microwaves, satellites, space flight, book readers were sci-fi, yet we have them now and the future is rushing towards us with ever increasing fevour.
Anyway... the point is, is that I'm astonished by the lack of imagination from these naysayers. People recalling what happened to them is a boon to us writers. We can take their stories and make up similar stuff to write. It doesn't have to be a confrontational episode, it can be any-damn-thing. These people open our minds to what's possible.
The soothsayers are even more wonderful and scary. What of the future? For sci-fi writers, anything is possible with a leg up from the most famous psychics in history.
So I say again, and why not?
Friday, April 28, 2006
Navel gazing
As any blogger knows, sometimes it hard to find a subject to post about; sometimes, it's easy.
This week has been one of navel-gazing, and it's not even my birthday. Read it or not.
Tuesday saw the commemoration of the men and women who lost their lives in war. Thursday saw the coming home of one of those men - except he wasn't in the casket; another mother's son, wife, brother, husband was. And today...
Tonight, I walked up the street to the shops with mah dawg. It was twilight. I breathed in the scents of the sea, of chill autumnal air, of wood burning from heath fires, of spicey, fragrant dinners on the stove.
Ten years ago today, I was somewhere else: walking down the main street of Seattle, Washington, taking in the man in the three-piece suit with multi-coloured hair and facial piercings, the Seattle Coffee Company, the shoppers, the cafes, the homeless, the students, the view.
I recall that I walked the same distance (from home here, to the local shops) in New Orleans and had a black barrelled gun held by a desperate, grubby, and equally black teenager, shoved in my face; that the police cruiser in Dallas slowed down to allow the suspicious cops check out me and my backpack before speeding up; that I was followed by the calculating eyes of homeless people resting on the steaming grates in Washington, D.C.; that I heard gunshots close by in Chattanooga, Tennessee...
I don't mention these events to infer the world has gone to hell in a handbasket, that there are more self-serving and selfish people in the world, or that America is bastion of bad times. It's not. I spent a week looking over my shoulder in England in case the Mafia caught up with me because I'd inadvertantly worked for them before they found out I was a journalist (on holidays, but a journalist nonetheless). I did escape them by four hours, all on my lonesome, and it scared the tripe outta me.
No. I mention these things because those were adventurous times, whether I wanted them to be or not. Life happens. I mention these events because there are things beyond your control out there, and the relief at surviving is, momentarily, all consuming.
The last ten years have been pretty quiet for me; the worst, I think, was getting fired from a job and being blackbanned, but that's hardly a life-threatening occasion and barely rates a mention.
Life, as you know, moves in circles and maybe I'm coming around to adventure again, who knows?
What I do know, is that ten years ago, while walking down that Seattle street, I saw a newspaper, with the massacre of Port Arthur emblazoned across the top. It was a moment in time when I looked around me to see I was the only one gobsmacked. Australia didn't do that kind of violence. And yet... we often think of where we were on a particular anniversary that is pivotal in history.
The phrase "where were you when..." is bandied about. You now know where I was. What was I feeling? Exactly what I felt when taking mah dawg up the street: contentment, wonder and happiness to be somewhere I truly enjoyed.
We often don't take the time to stop, look and listen. We're comfortable where we are; we know where we are, but do we ever understand why?
After all the near misses I've had - and there are more than just what's above - I learned to appreciate what Mother Nature provides for me every single day, whether it's bucketing with rain, or blisteringly hot, or blowing two Gales and a Mary; whether it's storming like the End of Days, or still and quiet.
Of those killed or wounded that day, ten years ago in an historic convict town, how many truly appreciated what life had given them, what their loved ones had given them or what they gave to the world.
My advice? Take a moment to look around and listen, really look and listen, without prejudice; appreciate the beauty and wonder of this world no matter where you are in this global village, for during the good and the bad times, you may not have the chance, and it surely won't come again.
This week has been one of navel-gazing, and it's not even my birthday. Read it or not.
Tuesday saw the commemoration of the men and women who lost their lives in war. Thursday saw the coming home of one of those men - except he wasn't in the casket; another mother's son, wife, brother, husband was. And today...
Tonight, I walked up the street to the shops with mah dawg. It was twilight. I breathed in the scents of the sea, of chill autumnal air, of wood burning from heath fires, of spicey, fragrant dinners on the stove.
Ten years ago today, I was somewhere else: walking down the main street of Seattle, Washington, taking in the man in the three-piece suit with multi-coloured hair and facial piercings, the Seattle Coffee Company, the shoppers, the cafes, the homeless, the students, the view.
I recall that I walked the same distance (from home here, to the local shops) in New Orleans and had a black barrelled gun held by a desperate, grubby, and equally black teenager, shoved in my face; that the police cruiser in Dallas slowed down to allow the suspicious cops check out me and my backpack before speeding up; that I was followed by the calculating eyes of homeless people resting on the steaming grates in Washington, D.C.; that I heard gunshots close by in Chattanooga, Tennessee...
I don't mention these events to infer the world has gone to hell in a handbasket, that there are more self-serving and selfish people in the world, or that America is bastion of bad times. It's not. I spent a week looking over my shoulder in England in case the Mafia caught up with me because I'd inadvertantly worked for them before they found out I was a journalist (on holidays, but a journalist nonetheless). I did escape them by four hours, all on my lonesome, and it scared the tripe outta me.
No. I mention these things because those were adventurous times, whether I wanted them to be or not. Life happens. I mention these events because there are things beyond your control out there, and the relief at surviving is, momentarily, all consuming.
The last ten years have been pretty quiet for me; the worst, I think, was getting fired from a job and being blackbanned, but that's hardly a life-threatening occasion and barely rates a mention.
Life, as you know, moves in circles and maybe I'm coming around to adventure again, who knows?
What I do know, is that ten years ago, while walking down that Seattle street, I saw a newspaper, with the massacre of Port Arthur emblazoned across the top. It was a moment in time when I looked around me to see I was the only one gobsmacked. Australia didn't do that kind of violence. And yet... we often think of where we were on a particular anniversary that is pivotal in history.
The phrase "where were you when..." is bandied about. You now know where I was. What was I feeling? Exactly what I felt when taking mah dawg up the street: contentment, wonder and happiness to be somewhere I truly enjoyed.
We often don't take the time to stop, look and listen. We're comfortable where we are; we know where we are, but do we ever understand why?
After all the near misses I've had - and there are more than just what's above - I learned to appreciate what Mother Nature provides for me every single day, whether it's bucketing with rain, or blisteringly hot, or blowing two Gales and a Mary; whether it's storming like the End of Days, or still and quiet.
Of those killed or wounded that day, ten years ago in an historic convict town, how many truly appreciated what life had given them, what their loved ones had given them or what they gave to the world.
My advice? Take a moment to look around and listen, really look and listen, without prejudice; appreciate the beauty and wonder of this world no matter where you are in this global village, for during the good and the bad times, you may not have the chance, and it surely won't come again.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
A Reminder
Let me reiterate what every writer should know, regardless of age, gender or genre:
Plagiarism is bad!
You can make stuff up, summarise, expand, quote, but you cannot copy someone else's work:
Plagiarism is bad!
There is no excuse for copying. It is stealing, it is theft or any other word you'd like to pluck from the Thesaurus. It is wrong, it is making money from someone else's hard work.
What has prompted this reminder? This has.
It's a great thing that such a young author could command an advance of this size for a first book; it gives hope to others, to every struggling author out there. Yeah, sure, there's envy, and wishing; there are sneers and disappointment that it wasn't them, but the big advances are still out there if you have the talent.
It's destructive that the author has been exposed as a cheat, a liar and a thief. The author as allegedly said that the suspect passage had probably be written from her subconcious. I'm sorry, but writing this because it was so firmly set in the subconscious? I know people can have a near-photographic memory, but a photographic subconscious? I'm pretty sure Harvard is really, really pissed off about this, as is Dreamworks who bought the rights.
Plagiarism reflects badly on the writing world as a whole. I could wax lyrical about the ongoing and deliberate allowance of plagiarism at schools, but that would be lengthy indeed. This kind of thing needs to be punished severely; it should not be acceptable in any situation or school.
Unless those in authority return to integrity before money, unfortunately, this will continue.
For those who still believe in their own work, their own worth, we fight the good fight, regardless of those rejection letters, the bad reviews, the okay sales. We do this because we love the language and we want to share what we create.
One last time, people:
Plagiarism is bad!
Plagiarism is bad!
You can make stuff up, summarise, expand, quote, but you cannot copy someone else's work:
Plagiarism is bad!
There is no excuse for copying. It is stealing, it is theft or any other word you'd like to pluck from the Thesaurus. It is wrong, it is making money from someone else's hard work.
What has prompted this reminder? This has.
It's a great thing that such a young author could command an advance of this size for a first book; it gives hope to others, to every struggling author out there. Yeah, sure, there's envy, and wishing; there are sneers and disappointment that it wasn't them, but the big advances are still out there if you have the talent.
It's destructive that the author has been exposed as a cheat, a liar and a thief. The author as allegedly said that the suspect passage had probably be written from her subconcious. I'm sorry, but writing this because it was so firmly set in the subconscious? I know people can have a near-photographic memory, but a photographic subconscious? I'm pretty sure Harvard is really, really pissed off about this, as is Dreamworks who bought the rights.
Plagiarism reflects badly on the writing world as a whole. I could wax lyrical about the ongoing and deliberate allowance of plagiarism at schools, but that would be lengthy indeed. This kind of thing needs to be punished severely; it should not be acceptable in any situation or school.
Unless those in authority return to integrity before money, unfortunately, this will continue.
For those who still believe in their own work, their own worth, we fight the good fight, regardless of those rejection letters, the bad reviews, the okay sales. We do this because we love the language and we want to share what we create.
One last time, people:
Plagiarism is bad!
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Remember the ANZACs
Today is ANZAC day; a day we remember the fallen during times of war, and why they died.
Some might say that for Australians to fight and die in foreign wars meant they died for nothing but a Colonialist ideal; that of king (or queen) and a country on the other side of the world.
Not so. With the ANZACs (the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps) was born a legend; a legend that our troops endeavour to uphold today, still fighting in foreign territories.
What is it that makes today so special? There were more British, French and Canadian troops killed at Gallipoli than Australian or New Zealand. It was a failed campaign in an area that had, in retrospect, little military value. So why commemorate our greatest defeat and the loss of so many young men?
Much has been said of the appalling planning and execution of the landing: with boats off course so the troops had to scale sheer cliffs to reach safety, with British commanders throwing Aussie Diggers into killing fields, when it was impossible to reach the Turk trenches.
But time and time again, the Aussies obeyed and went over the top, knowing they were going to their deaths. Few made it a quarter of the way, even fewer, halfway, none all the way. The Victorian, New South Wales and Western Australian companies all went; most died.
At night, the cries of the dying could be heard. Brave soldiers sneaked into noman’s land to retrieve them. And the next morning, they’d be going over the top again, to see who could get the furthest. But the Aussies were never bowed during the whole campaign.
They swam in the water, a pool of money set aside should one win and get wounded; they snuck into Turk trenches to steal objects, just to prove they could; they played cricket and football during lulls; they disrespected the British officers but they climbed impossible cliffs to snipe at the enemy, and they died in job lots.
The larrikinism of those soldiers is quintessentially what Australians are all about: get on with the job regardless, but doing it our way.
When the time came to evacuate – or retreat to the rear – it was the Aussies who came up with the way out: by a tin filled with water and a hole in the bottom. In that hole was a piece of string tied to the trigger of the rifle. When the string dried, it contracted and fired off a round. The Turks – a couple of days away from planning their own withdrawal – thought the Aussies were still there. It is a testament to ingenuity that no lives were lost during the evacuation.
Once the ANZACs were in another theatre of war, things changed. Statistically speaking, when the Australians were under the command of one of their own, they had the highest kill rate and lowest mortality rate than any other allied force.
My grandfather missed the Gallipoli campaign, but was awarded the Military Cross in action in France. He was a towering man to a five-year-old, more grouchy than friendly; more a source of wonder and intrigue than of fear, and I would climb into his lap while he told me stories of that time. I can’t remember those tales, but I remember his gentleness, his sadness, his pride, the twinkle in his eyes and his smile.
Apart from that time, he never spoke of his soldiering days, never told of how or where he got the medal; it was as if it was a source of anger, of betrayal. It wasn’t until I was at university studying history that I found out why: That he’d organised his men to destroy German machine-gun nests that were holding up the allied advance. That he’d led from the front in the assault: that a higher ranking officer had an extraordinarily similar citation in his file and been awarded the Victoria Cross – the highest medal awarded for valour under fire.
I’ll never know if it’s true or not, or whether that was the reason my Grandfather was so pissed off. He didn’t seem the kind of man to be concerned by such things. Maybe it was the sense of betrayal for his men, none of whom where awarded anything.
To me, he was hero, in the truest sense of the word: he did his job, he saved lives, and, most importantly, he came home to my Grandmother.
Through fire, blood and military incompetence, the ANZACs showed their worth, as they had done in the lesser known Boer War. They are still one of the best fighting forces in the world. It is the courage, the indomitable spirit, the willingness to do the impossible that we revere today.
While there are no more of the original ANZACs, their ideal lives on in the generations that followed: in the Second World War, in the Korean War, in Vietnam, in Afghanistan and in Iraq. For their inspiration, for their sacrifices, for their Aussie spirits, we will remember them.
Some might say that for Australians to fight and die in foreign wars meant they died for nothing but a Colonialist ideal; that of king (or queen) and a country on the other side of the world.
Not so. With the ANZACs (the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps) was born a legend; a legend that our troops endeavour to uphold today, still fighting in foreign territories.
What is it that makes today so special? There were more British, French and Canadian troops killed at Gallipoli than Australian or New Zealand. It was a failed campaign in an area that had, in retrospect, little military value. So why commemorate our greatest defeat and the loss of so many young men?
Much has been said of the appalling planning and execution of the landing: with boats off course so the troops had to scale sheer cliffs to reach safety, with British commanders throwing Aussie Diggers into killing fields, when it was impossible to reach the Turk trenches.
But time and time again, the Aussies obeyed and went over the top, knowing they were going to their deaths. Few made it a quarter of the way, even fewer, halfway, none all the way. The Victorian, New South Wales and Western Australian companies all went; most died.
At night, the cries of the dying could be heard. Brave soldiers sneaked into noman’s land to retrieve them. And the next morning, they’d be going over the top again, to see who could get the furthest. But the Aussies were never bowed during the whole campaign.
They swam in the water, a pool of money set aside should one win and get wounded; they snuck into Turk trenches to steal objects, just to prove they could; they played cricket and football during lulls; they disrespected the British officers but they climbed impossible cliffs to snipe at the enemy, and they died in job lots.
The larrikinism of those soldiers is quintessentially what Australians are all about: get on with the job regardless, but doing it our way.
When the time came to evacuate – or retreat to the rear – it was the Aussies who came up with the way out: by a tin filled with water and a hole in the bottom. In that hole was a piece of string tied to the trigger of the rifle. When the string dried, it contracted and fired off a round. The Turks – a couple of days away from planning their own withdrawal – thought the Aussies were still there. It is a testament to ingenuity that no lives were lost during the evacuation.
Once the ANZACs were in another theatre of war, things changed. Statistically speaking, when the Australians were under the command of one of their own, they had the highest kill rate and lowest mortality rate than any other allied force.
My grandfather missed the Gallipoli campaign, but was awarded the Military Cross in action in France. He was a towering man to a five-year-old, more grouchy than friendly; more a source of wonder and intrigue than of fear, and I would climb into his lap while he told me stories of that time. I can’t remember those tales, but I remember his gentleness, his sadness, his pride, the twinkle in his eyes and his smile.
Apart from that time, he never spoke of his soldiering days, never told of how or where he got the medal; it was as if it was a source of anger, of betrayal. It wasn’t until I was at university studying history that I found out why: That he’d organised his men to destroy German machine-gun nests that were holding up the allied advance. That he’d led from the front in the assault: that a higher ranking officer had an extraordinarily similar citation in his file and been awarded the Victoria Cross – the highest medal awarded for valour under fire.
I’ll never know if it’s true or not, or whether that was the reason my Grandfather was so pissed off. He didn’t seem the kind of man to be concerned by such things. Maybe it was the sense of betrayal for his men, none of whom where awarded anything.
To me, he was hero, in the truest sense of the word: he did his job, he saved lives, and, most importantly, he came home to my Grandmother.
Through fire, blood and military incompetence, the ANZACs showed their worth, as they had done in the lesser known Boer War. They are still one of the best fighting forces in the world. It is the courage, the indomitable spirit, the willingness to do the impossible that we revere today.
While there are no more of the original ANZACs, their ideal lives on in the generations that followed: in the Second World War, in the Korean War, in Vietnam, in Afghanistan and in Iraq. For their inspiration, for their sacrifices, for their Aussie spirits, we will remember them.
Monday, April 24, 2006
More than just an edit
I'm currently printing out and editing, again, Demonesque.
Chapters one and two were a lot of fun, although I could boost the descriptions a little. Chapter three, I hit a snag, or, more importantly, a Note To Self. It reads: "Find info on Vancouver/Seattle, change home to forested area outside city."
Sigh. I suspect I'm going to find a few of these NTSs from my last edit.
The good news is, obviously I've let the book rest for long enough if I've forgotten the NTSs I made; the bad news is, it means more research and another edit to make sure everything is at it should be.
Why I do this to myself, I don't know... (whinge, whinge, whinge). Actually, I suspect I prefer to write the book, then do the more intensive research. I also think I'm the kind of writer that if I did all the reseach first, I'd get bored with the whole thing and end up not writing it at all.
I know, I know, I should be more focused, but once the bug hits, that's it, I gotta write it all. In my head, I can see everything: characters, scenery, dialogue beginning, middle, and the end I want. I just let my fingers flow across the keyboard until it's done.
And, as always, my laziness comes back to haunt me. Like now. I'm doing that surfing to find what I need and it interrupts the flow of what I'm trying to do.
I could name a few authors for whom edits take on Sisyphean proportions. I'm probably one of them, although I won't go as far as picking to pieces every single sentence to make sure it is absolutely perfect. That's just anal. (Yeah, there's an argument in there, but I'm not playing.)
All I can say is it's a great read, so far. I'm happy with what's happened, what I can see coming up and all the mind games involved.
With an opening like:
“I could take one,” I murmured, “just a small one to taste, to feel the crunch of bone, the spurt of hot, salty blood, the soft flex of muscle. No one would miss one.”
I crouched above the human city, stared down at the walking meat sacks with hooded eyes. The thick, brown claws of my toes and fingers gripped the concrete ledge as I watched the human prey on the street below.
They don’t know I’m up here, I thought with a smirk. Civilised humans, sophisticated humans, ignorant humans, rarely look up, especially in a city. Once they did. Oh, yes, once they did, for death could and did fall from the sky. Snatched them up, devoured them while they screamed, while their blood rained down upon the verdant forest.
Even if no-one else likes this book, I sure as hell do. And so I should stop messin' about, and get on with it. I want to be reminded about what happens next.
Chapters one and two were a lot of fun, although I could boost the descriptions a little. Chapter three, I hit a snag, or, more importantly, a Note To Self. It reads: "Find info on Vancouver/Seattle, change home to forested area outside city."
Sigh. I suspect I'm going to find a few of these NTSs from my last edit.
The good news is, obviously I've let the book rest for long enough if I've forgotten the NTSs I made; the bad news is, it means more research and another edit to make sure everything is at it should be.
Why I do this to myself, I don't know... (whinge, whinge, whinge). Actually, I suspect I prefer to write the book, then do the more intensive research. I also think I'm the kind of writer that if I did all the reseach first, I'd get bored with the whole thing and end up not writing it at all.
I know, I know, I should be more focused, but once the bug hits, that's it, I gotta write it all. In my head, I can see everything: characters, scenery, dialogue beginning, middle, and the end I want. I just let my fingers flow across the keyboard until it's done.
And, as always, my laziness comes back to haunt me. Like now. I'm doing that surfing to find what I need and it interrupts the flow of what I'm trying to do.
I could name a few authors for whom edits take on Sisyphean proportions. I'm probably one of them, although I won't go as far as picking to pieces every single sentence to make sure it is absolutely perfect. That's just anal. (Yeah, there's an argument in there, but I'm not playing.)
All I can say is it's a great read, so far. I'm happy with what's happened, what I can see coming up and all the mind games involved.
With an opening like:
“I could take one,” I murmured, “just a small one to taste, to feel the crunch of bone, the spurt of hot, salty blood, the soft flex of muscle. No one would miss one.”
I crouched above the human city, stared down at the walking meat sacks with hooded eyes. The thick, brown claws of my toes and fingers gripped the concrete ledge as I watched the human prey on the street below.
They don’t know I’m up here, I thought with a smirk. Civilised humans, sophisticated humans, ignorant humans, rarely look up, especially in a city. Once they did. Oh, yes, once they did, for death could and did fall from the sky. Snatched them up, devoured them while they screamed, while their blood rained down upon the verdant forest.
Even if no-one else likes this book, I sure as hell do. And so I should stop messin' about, and get on with it. I want to be reminded about what happens next.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Cool!
Given the amount of books I've read, and post to the sidebar, it looked like a daunting task to link the author sites to the aforementioned books consumed. Hah! Done and Dusted, I believe the saying is. It's a brave new world this weblogging, but I'm finally twisting the sucker into submission. The world is mine! MINE! I tell you!
Now, what else can I do...
Now, what else can I do...
Mind your coffee
For those of you who enjoy the Smart Bitches take on romance novel covers, I found this via Agent Kristin's Pub Rants site. I should warn you not to sip coffee while reading the covers, I know I should warn you, but what the hell. It's an amusing wake up call, and put me in a smirking mood all day. Where do people come up with these ideas?
There are some truly sick and twisted people out there, and they're no doubt very proud of that fact.
Kristin also has links to other agent's sites, if you're interested. My impression that the majority of the book publishing market was a closed one, is obviously wrong. Agents are out there, just looking for 'the one'. Maybe that's me, maybe that's you. Go and investigate.
There are some truly sick and twisted people out there, and they're no doubt very proud of that fact.
Kristin also has links to other agent's sites, if you're interested. My impression that the majority of the book publishing market was a closed one, is obviously wrong. Agents are out there, just looking for 'the one'. Maybe that's me, maybe that's you. Go and investigate.
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