ECLECTIC PROJECTS BLOG

Writing Advice - Craft & Process

Cold Cases: Thinking Out Loud

Okay, to start with, Michael Moorcock talks about the genesis of the Dorian Hawkmoon books over at the Tor site. I mean, seriously, why are you still here? Also, Twelfth Planet Press has released the guidelines for their forthcoming Speakeasy anthology full of urban fantasy stories set in the 1920s.  I totally dig the idea of this anthology, but I’ll admit that all of my initial ideas will be bloody hard to pare down to short story lengths (unless, of course, I finally break down and write the 1920’s zombie story set in Tahiti I’ve been threatening to write for four years now, but Alisa at TPP is quite adamant in her hatred of zombies so it’s probably not the best starting point). ♦ Okay, fair warning, the following entry is rambling and scattered while I think through a specific problem related to the project du jour. If you have no real interest in writers thinking out loud, I suggest going back and following the Moorcock link above. I mean, it’s Michael frickin’ Moocock. The man is awesome. I still have my right molar, freshly canaled after Wednesday’s trip to the dentist, and for the time-being I am free of the antibiotics and anti-inflammatories that induced last fortnight’s lethargy (although my gum’s still infected, and they may return). The rental inspection is over, I’m slowly coming to terms with my decision to stay in the flat rather than move when my lease is done. I’ve fretted about the various ways I

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Journal

A frustrated Spokesbear is dangerous

I’m drinking my second cup of coffee of the morning, revelling in the fact that I’ve been awake for nearly three hours now and I don’t yet feel the need to take a nap. Huzzah for reaching the end of the medication, although the celebrations are tempered by the fact that I head into the dentist for stage two of my root canal this afternoon. I know nothing about the art of dentistry, but the implication after my last visit was essentially “if the infection’s still there, we’ll have to remove the tooth instead.” I’m okay with removing the tooth, to be honest, as long as it doesn’t come with another round on medication. Experience says I have a predilection towards sloth that shouldn’t be encouraged and I have phobias about returning to the slacker mindset that dominated my early twenties. Or, to return to my new years resolution: don’t fuck it up, dumb-ass. I’ll take a week of jaw pain over a week of sleeping any day. My medication-induced narcolepsy would bother me less if the project du jour wasn’t doing the rewrite on Cold Cases, the second Miriam Aster novella. It’s not that I begrudge the fact that it needs rewriting – I dig rewriting – but there’s a certain element of I’d really like this to be done, now, please, when it comes to this book. I’ve lived with it for far too long* and it’s still playing coy, refusing to reveal the right beginning or structure. And it still

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Journal

Seven Thoughts for a Tuesday

1) On the grand list of bad narrative decisions that cause me to dislike things I should have loved the decision to have the first half of Veronica Mars, Season 3, to use extreme feminists as one of the key antagonists is right at the top. The first time I watched the series it was a moment of pure WTF and it seriously hasn’t made any more sense on subsequent viewings. 2) Someone has created inhalable coffee as a consumer product. The jet packs and self-driving cars are surely on their way. 3) Part of my beef with the decision mentioned in number one? The writers of Veronica Mars have a seemingly magical ability to create empathy with the antagonists. *Every single arsehole* in the show – from the self-involved Sheriff Lamb to killer Aaron Eckles to frat-boy Dick Casablancas – has a redeeming moment or two in amidst their grating evil. There was depth to them. The “evil feminist” antagonists aren’t ever given this – even when there’s a reason behind there actions, they’re always contrasted against the protagonists actions and they’re left feeling vaguely weak and unsympathetic due to the fact that they’re primary role is to be not-Veronicas rather than developed characters in their own right. In the narrative morality of the show, they are always “wrong”. 4) And really, in reference to the above, fuck that shit for a bad joke. 5) I finish the first round of antibiotics and painkillers today, which means I’ll be

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Journal

And now we are thirty-three

I’ve never really known what to do with my birthday. The realities of being haphazardly employed mean going out and celebrating are off the agenda and I’m pretty sure the last time I tried was back in 2006 or so. The idea of celebrating my birthday has always seems kinda awkward anyway. Existing for a year isn’t necessarily an achievement, you know? This year I seem to have settled upon ordering a cheese pizza and re-reading the introduction to Haruki Murakami’s Birthday Stories anthology, which will inevitably lead to the rereading of the anthology itself in days to come. Later on I’ll regret the fact that medication means I can’t drink a glass of wine with dinner, then bugger off to play DnD with friends. Given that I’m still tired and sluggish from the medication, I may even have a nap before I go. Really, this is business as usual for a Thursday. So I took a photograph, just to mark the occasion. The look of grim boredom on my face has more to do with medication and lack of sleep than any real dislike of getting older (although this seems to be a theme with birthdays – last year I was hopped up on Ibuprofen for shoulder pain). To be honest, I *like* getting older. Being twenty was a pain in the arse and anyone who tries to tell me that my school years were the best days of my life is going to get kicked. Of course, the cool part

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Smart Advice from Smart People

Cyborg

Scientists in Korea transmit data along a human arm at broadband speeds. Electrodes were placed on the arm about ten inches apart and they transmitted data at ten magabits per second. As a child of the eighties this kind of thing blows my mind, especially given the large majority of the formative movies from my childhood dealt with the relationship between man and technology, and I kind of miss it. Especially cyborgs. SF seems to have moved away from the cyborg towards post-humanism as a means of exploring this issue, which makes a kind of sense, but the whole man/meat merging will always be my first love.

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Journal

Feelin’ just a little bit sleepy

The short answer to where I’ve been for the last week: sleeping. The slightly longer answer goes something like this: Last week there was the return of the tooth pain and the right-hand side of my face swelled up like I was using my cheek as a storage pocket for a golf ball. Bugger, says I, that’s not really normal, and so I hie myself off to the dentist in order to do something about it.  The dentist takes one look and agrees with me – definitely not normal. Turned out I had myself an acute dental abscess – which largely translates as cavity infection that has spread into other nerves. His first impulse is to pull the infected tooth out, but since I take moderately good care of my teeth (despite what this post may suggest) the decision is made to try and save it, and so I get my first-ever root canal. Oddly, this wasn’t the bad part. The root canal was surprisingly painless and I’ve been chewing again within twelve hours. Today I actually chewed steak with the right side of my mouth and that hasn’t been something I could do without pain for seven years now. Of course, that may be the drugs talking. You see, the bad part about all this is the weird grab-bag of medication and anti-inflamatries I’m on to deal with the infection. Still no pain, but these things encourage me to sleep for eighteen hours a day and spent the six hours

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Conspicuous Acts of Cultural Consumption

Whip It and Writing

1) Whip It I’ve been toying with the idea of writing a blog post-reviewy thing about Whip It for about two weeks now, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s just not going to happen. Not because I think it’s a bad film – it’s utterly charming in its ability to recognise that something can be simultaneously camp as hell and the most important thing in the whole damn world – but because it fits into the same space as contemporary art where I find my critical vocabulary isn’t really up to the task of expressing what I’m thinking about after seeing the film. My short, haphazard take on the film goes something like this: it’s endearing. Specifically, the kind of awkward-coming-of-age endearing you find in Taylor Swift film-clip, only Whip It comes without the puritanical undercurrent that usually causes me to froth at the mouth when encountering Swift’s oeuvre (and thus, Whip It comes closer to having actual substance). The film actually reminds me, very strongly, of Bring It On (another film that didn’t seem like something I’d like that somehow turned out to be highly entertaining) and I kinda wish it existed in a world where Bring It On didn’t because there’s far to many parallels there. The sound-track is phenomenal in its eclecticism, but gets bonus points for including both the Ramones and Yens Leckman. The acting is solid. The most irritating thing about the film is Drew Barrymore’s character, but only because it’s exactly the same character she

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Works in Progress

Chairman of the Bored

My process, an overview: start a new story; write eight hundred words; start another new story; write three hundred words; think “fuck, I really do need to finish a novel”; make revision notes for Black Candy; realise Black Candy is horribly flawed and wonder if starting a new novel will be easier; write a hundred words; hate them; write another hundred words; hate them too; pick up a finished novel and read the opening paragraph; think “the new novel I’m writing is complete pants. I’ll start a new one.”; write 100 words; delete one hundred words; work on black Candy; start a blog post about Whip It;  delete it; start a blog post about how much I hate writing; delete it; work on the second short-story I started; work on the first short-story I started; work on Black Candy; start a new novel; research boredom on Wikipedia; find the following quite comforting and accurate – Boredom has been defined by C. D. Fisher in terms of its central psychological processes: “an unpleasant, transient affective state in which the individual feels a pervasive lack of interest in and difficulty concentrating on the current activity; start a new novel; work on Black Candy; start a new story; discover traction with the new story idea; work on it; blog about process; go back to working on the new story; realise, yes, this one, this is the one I’m ready to write. Recorded here because it’s always like this, time and again, and I always

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Works in Progress

This Weeks Project

It took me most of February to get there, but I finally climbed back on the submission horse and sent out short stories last night. Night quite the February I’d planned for back at the beginning, but given the distractions of dead computers, illness, parental birthdays and toothaches I’m settling for getting 25% of the way towards my submission goal and carrying the rest over to the month of March. This week I’m getting even more basic and going for straight wordcount goals. Between now and the 7th of March I’m aiming at the following: In other news, the most excellent peep Jason Fischer is co-editing an upcoming issue of Midnight Echo and he’s looking for cross-genre SF/Horror works. And I’m almost out of coffee, so that’s it for me this morning.

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Journal

Bleh

February has become the month we do not talk about, so I won’t. Embrace the mystery. What I will point out, somewhat belatedly, is the impressive scale of the recent Australian SF Snapshot which collected 90 or so interviews from members of the Australian Spec Fic scene (my interview would be over yonder). Now I’m going to go clean the house, answer two weeks of e-mail, and do my best to rejoin the rest of the human race by some point late this evening.

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News & Upcoming Events

Years Best SF 15

Kathryn Cramer’s just posted the TOC for the Year’s Best SF 15 (edited by Kathryn Cramer  and David Hartwell, available soon from HarperCollins). On the list of included works, amid stories by Bruce Sterling and Alistair Reynolds and Nancy Kress and Geoff Ryman and many other folks, is this: On the Destruction of Copenhagen by the War Machines of the Merfolk. There might have been squee about that around these parts. The spokesbear gets excitable. You know how it is.

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