Sunday, December 16, 2018

Christmas Updates



Hey all! It's been a busy season over here, so this post is going to just be some catching-up. If you are desperate for a book recommendation, though, here you go:

Read The Screaming Staircase by Jonathan Stroud. It's a freakin' good book, but it is a part of the Disney empire, so it's only a matter of time before it's turned into a watered-down movie. You'd best read it now while it still has its innocence.

OK, on to the updates:

First, I am an engaged man! I have a good job that's making money slightly faster than I can spend it, so I proposed to my college sweetheart and we're looking at late-summer wedding dates. This may come up later; when one of my posts here says "Just married" and that's all, you'll know what's up.

Second, my NaNoWriMo project is still going strong; as I'm writing this (on December 15), it's around 65,000 words long, and there's plenty of story to go. Odds are it'll be about 75,000 - 80,000 words long, and I can't wait until it's finished and reworked to death so I can start submitting it places--it is, in my humble opinion, one heck of a story.

The writing of this book was hampered, though, when my 5ish-year-old laptop finally bit the dust after years of (two-way) abuse. Thank heavens I obsessively back up all my writing stuff, or today's post might be a string of un-Christmasy cuss words. However, this new machine is quite wonderful. Thanks to its non-ancient technology, Subnautica has never looked so gorgeous. I weep tears of joy whenever a sea serpent swallows my submarine in non-laggy gloriousness.

Finally, I wish you all a very merry Christmas and a happy New Year. May you receive all that you lawfully desire, including the one wish you never knew you had...

That's right. May you get your own you-centric version of that in-praise-of-Gaston song from Beauty and the Beast. Let's start right now:

"NO...ONE..."



Saturday, December 1, 2018

NaNoWriMo; My Assessment




Today’s blog text format is brought to you by somebody who, for once, has written his blog post ahead of time and not directly onto his website. There is a good reason why I am able to write this post in advance, too: see, I completed NaNoWriMo.
That’s right. My new work-in-progress YA novel passed 50,000 words on Sunday, November 25, exactly one month before Christmas. Whether that’s significant or not, I don’t know, but it does feel like a gift to not have to bend my schedules, making them fit my lengthy 2000-words-per-day sessions around my heaven-knows-how-many-words-I’m-writing-for-the-newspaper-already job.
My regimen paid off, though (and it turns out I can cram in about 500 words of fiction writing during lunch breaks). So, now that I’m here on the other side of the month’s writing marathon, I expect some of you are wondering what my thoughts are about this whole NaNoWriMo lark, not that any of you have asked.
Well…for me, it was near-equal parts hate and love, to be honest.
Let’s start with the hate.
Last year I complained about being a slow writer. Today, on the other side of 50,000 words, that still holds true—and that’s even when I’m biting back my impulse to look over previous paragraphs to get a feel for where I am, to correct typos, to rearrange…everything, et cetera. It took effort to plunk myself down in my chair, merely glance at my last sentence, and hammer away at the keyboard straight from there. You can’t build up momentum; you have to take off sprinting from the start line, and I like to pause and think of exactly how I’m going to scale the next hill. At the end of it all, I’m still quite the pause-and-carefully-consider-the-next-sentence kind of writer. I make Flash the sloth from the movie “Zootopia” look like a court stenographer on some days.
But—and here we transfer over to the stuff I like—there were days when the story just flew along.
I loved those days. I can think of two in particular where I had such writing momentum going that I overshot my daily writing goal by 500 words each day. (In the spirit of Andy Weir’s book “The Martian”, I’m changing the term “words per day” to “Doom-iguanas”, and I don’t care if it’s hardly shorter.) Anyway, those two days gave me a nice 1000-word cushion I held all the way until the last two days of my 50,000-word stretch—the busy Thanksgiving weekend. Even though I dropped back to 1500 Doom-iguanas, I finished five days early. Now I’m writing this.
I’m continuing to write my NaNoWriMo project; turns out I might actually have a good concept here, and I’m still engaged with everybody in the story. It’s soft sci-fi (I think), but it has its wonderfully nerdy moments when it’s really hard for me to remember that 20 pages of straight expositing can be dull. My Evil Notebook of Writing has pages and pages dedicated to plot details, worldbuilding notes, and other stuff I don’t want to forget.
I love the story I’ve kicked into gear, and I plan to write it all the way through—even though I’ve dropped back to 1000 Doom-iguanas now. And that’s the big reason I’m grateful to NaNoWriMo: it gave me a reason to write the novel. I’d had the book’s concept stewing in my head for a while (since July 29, 2017, to be exact—I wrote it down in that Evil Notebook of Writing), and it was great to have an excuse to get the idea up off its couch and make itself useful. After all, I wrote my first manuscript when I told myself, “Hey, you’ve got some free time; why not write that book idea you have?” This time, I told myself, “Hey, you haven’t done this writer’s rite of passage yet; why not use that other book idea you have?”
Let me tell you, this trip reminded me how much fun it is to work on an original story.
To conclude, will I do this again next year?
…Maybe. Maybe not. With this under my belt, I believe I have the right to excuse myself on the grounds being a NaNoWriMo veteran—with only one tour of service, but that’s still something.
On the other hand, another story idea might pop up. We’ll see.
Now I’ve got to get back to writing.






Friday, November 16, 2018

NaNoWriMo Update


Yello!

Yes, NaNoWriMo is going well

It's been going so well that I barely have time to write other stuff...

But I will let you know that last evening (11/15/18 at 9pm) I passed 31,000 words. I'm a little ahead of my schedule!

Now I need sleep.

Happy writing!



Thursday, November 1, 2018

NaNoWri-Me



Howdy all. This post is gonna be brief; I'm preparing to write around 2000 words a day for the next month.

That's right--I'm finally doing NaNoWriMo (unlike last year)! I'm out of college and I finally have a new book idea that's got me by the throat, so it's about time I tried out this extended exercise. On the other hand, I am still a very SLOW writer and my day job also demands a lot of writing, so I'm not looking forward to my more burned-out stretches. Oh well.

On the plus side, though, at least I have an ultra-cool-sounding working title. It's good to have one this time; the initial working title of my first manuscript was "The Wizard Story", and I can safely say my NaNoWriMo work-in-progress title beats that hands-down.

Maybe I'll share it come mid-November, right when I'm in the middle of my writing marathon. That way I'll only need to post one word so I can get back to writing the plot.

Happy writing!



Wednesday, October 17, 2018

"Sanctuary" by Caryn Lix: a review



Yello readers. I hadn't read today's book all the way through when I wrote my last blog post (and I was a little depressed when I wrote my last blog post), so you got no book review then. Now, though, I have the book read, but I'm not going to wait for November.

I present to you a YA/sci-fi novel that came out last summer: Sanctuary by Caryn Lix.

(I am considerate to post these links here, you know that? If you follow them, it could render my review redundant. If you're still reading, thank you. Have a cookie.)

Anyway, here's my half-minute summary of Sanctuary: Kenzie is a junior guard on a prison spaceship for superpowered teenagers, and her mom is the commanding officer. If Kenzie's life went awry when she was captured by the inmates, you can only imagine how sideways things go when an unknown being invades the ship...

And here's my three-second summary of Sanctuary: It's X-Men meets Alien.

Yet, in spite of that brutally blunt summary, I do recommend this book. I would read it again myself.

Let me begin by getting my petty complaints out of the way. To begin, Kenzie represents another (presumably) white-girl protagonist whose name begins with a hard "K" sound. Katniss, Cassie, Cia (OK, that last one is an "s" sound, but whatever), and now Kenzie. It gets hard to pick them out of a nominal lineup, and I have a hard enough time remembering names already.

Second, there were a few plot developments that I predicted would happen from anywhere between 20 and 200 pages before they actually occurred. If anyone reading this has read Sanctuary themselves, they might understand why I shouted around the middle of the book, "So TALK to them already, Dr. Doolittle!"

Third, there is a near-end plot point that feels a little unnecessary--and poached from Divergent. If you don't want spoilers, skip all of the nest paragraph. No peeking.



OK, just in case someone's trying to peek anyway, let's just say someone named M_____ gets killed in the climactic chapter. He/she was getting a beatdown from that mystery creature I alluded to earlier, but he/she was hastened on his way by a stray bullet as Kenzie tried to shoot said creature. It was an accident, but it's still a big deal; after all, Kenzie was a guard over the prisoners, so M_____'s death would sound suspicious. Heck, M_____ even had a significant other. The accident is kept secret, but it gnaws at Kenzie for the rest of the book. To me, that sounded too much like that protagonist from Divergent who killed her friend's zombie-esqe boyfriend, carrying over into an awkward part of Book 2 (what's it called? Insurgent or Allegiant?). I think. I've only read the first book of Divergent, and I've heard things get awkward in Book 2. In Sanctuary, the event was traumatic but felt unnecessary--especially because the book was by no means done with trauma or death, and it dulled the payoff that the reader should have felt at the end of the book.



If the author is reading this, I should let you know that I can rant forever about the smallest things that bug me. Don't worry; even though I can bang on about those details forever (and I could never really get a clear picture in my head of that mystery creature), I did like the book.

In my Dystopian Teen Novel Review Checklist that I haven't used in forever, Sanctuary scores low, which is a good thing. Also, the characters--main and side--have genuine complexity, which I've missed in YA books lately. Kenzie's mom is not a complete evil-corporation-brainwash-success-story, and the incarcerates are not 100 percent angels. You can see everyone pretty clearly, from their personality quirks to their special skills to their appearances (I will say, though, that you end up seeing the abs of Kenzie's love interest VERY clearly; I could never tell if he was wearing his shirt or not). Best of all, nobody felt token. Nobody felt thrown in to make a publisher's quota--there is even a good Catholic in there, which made me feel all happy inside. There were a good number of cutesy romances in there, but the characters never felt held together with duct tape. They were genuine complementary romances, to which I can only scream "Thank goodness!" Best of all, there were brief moments of actual levity. Y'know, human beings' indomitable tendency to be ridiculous. Dear author, thank you for leaving those moments in. I still want more of them, but that's because I'm probably the Joker's apprentice at my current stage of mental development.

The setting? Excellent. Ninety percent of Sanctuary took place on the prison spaceship that shares the book's title. I loved the way that Kenzie's surroundings went from familiar to menacing through her changes as a person. The surroundings were descriptive, but not so much that it left no wiggle room for the imagination. I did keep superimposing mental snapshots of System Shock 2 in my mental images, though. They were fitting, but the graphics quality wasn't great (and people who've played the original game will laugh at my joke there). The point is, even though it was the home of a part horror story, I wanted to hang out in Sanctuary.

The story arc has more of an extended climax, not so much of an...um..."Dun dun DUUNNN!" *tssshh!* climax. Does that make sense? I didn't think so. Basically, instead of one big crap bucket hitting the fan at once, it's more of a steady disgusting fire hose. Personally, I'm a little shaky on that technique--it tends to weaken the ending's overall impact, in my opinion--but I'll let it slide this time. It kinda works. The rest of the plot has believable character arcs, and thankfully Kenzie herself has the mental wherewithal to question whether or not she has Stockholm Syndrome. Excellent, even if it doesn't excuse her from a possible positive diagnosis.

Also, my occasional plot predictions aside, Sanctuary had a good number of actual surprising plot twists. Yes!

In short, Sanctuary is a good book. It still has things that annoy me a little, but I would accept a personal copy if one comes my way. I would put it alongside my other books on the shelf without fear of them being contaminated by association. Sanctuary does pinch a lot of elements from X-Men and Alien, but it makes those elements its own special thing. It burgles but doesn't bungle, if you get my turn of phrase there. I think it could afford a slightly higher score on Goodreads, too. Maybe not a perfect score, but a little higher.

And hey, there's a sequel out...



Friday, October 12, 2018

A Writer's Bad Day



Hello, readers.

I am writing to you from the evening of Friday, October the 12th--and now that I think about it, that's one day after the birthday of those twins in the 1998 version of The Parent Trap. Of course, that doesn't have anything to do with anything. Well, maybe a little. On birthdays, people are usually celebrating. Today, right now at least, I'm kind of sad.

In case you haven't read my blog posts here at all--which is a very strong possibility--you might have noticed that I do not write in a sad manner. I like comedy. Heck, one of my posts was basically a prescription on the benefits of writing pure nonsense. Those kinds of posts are fun to write. They're a good, honest kind of fun for me. But today I'm introducing you to the flip side of my honesty, the side that's not so fun.

If you are a writer too, you've probably felt what I'm feeling a lot. You might be going through it yourself. If you're not a writer, there's still a chance you'll know what I'm talking about.

You know...the feeling of hopelessness.

Might as well write about it as long as I'm in the middle of it.

Today, the last of my submissions for my manuscript, my dream project that I have spent--and am still spending--most of my time upon, the last of its potential open avenues to publication fell through. As I am writing this, my project is not submitted anywhere. Nobody wanted it. I began writing my manuscript over five years ago and shamelessly fell in love with it. I love it so much that I can't bear the smallest imperfection with it, and so I've polished it obsessively from day one. Now I'm sitting in my apartment's "office", contemplating the fact that it's likely still crap.

There are a lot of things I can blame. A low social media following, for example. My Twitter stalkers, for example, creep upward by the day, but at their current rate they will not hit agent-attractive levels until I am an old man (old-er man; I feel like 60 right now). Don't get me started on Facebook. Don't get me started on this blog. My platforms have had their flash-in-the-pan moments, but nothing that seems to have stuck with anyone.

Even with the blame cushion of low followers, I still can only blame myself.

And here I am. No leads, no contacts, just a file sitting on my laptop. It's my first child really, and it's like I've been trying to get him in those programs that will make him most-likely-to-succeed. Now the scores from the tests have come back, and I've got to tell my project that he is not a child prodigy.

He might not even be that special.

By extension, maybe I'm nothing special either.

But...

(This might not take long to read, dear reader, but it is taking me a while to write. Let's just say I'm having a hard time seeing my computer screen.)

But...

I'm not done yet. It would be nice if I could quit, but I won't. I can't. It's a weird state I'm in, really. I don't care about me. I don't care if forgetting about my manuscript is an easier path. I put so much into making that little guy grow up. I've done my best to amend his faults, and Lord knows there have been a lot of those. Whenever I take him out to play, man, I notice something new every time, something I've never thought about before. Something that could be special. Maybe someone else will see that someday. My project has grown beyond me. Instead of it being a world I have created, it is a world where I step inside and play, and it has been so much fun I'd die if I could get you to join me.

Please, dear reader, if you've had moments where you are where I am, and all my depressing drivel here is but an echo to you, please, don't give up your project. If you can't hold on for your own sake, then do it for mine. It's people like you, holding on to your dreams, that give me strength to carry on with mine. Maybe if enough crazy people are scrambling to find an exit out of the mundane chamber, maybe one of us will find it, and if we stick together maybe we'll both get through. Pray for me, and I'll pray for you. I could use strength, with a little hope if it can be spared.

Anyway...have a good rest of your month, dear reader. I should be back in November. Maybe I'll be reviewing a new YA sci-fi book I've been reading; it's called Sanctuary by Caryn Lix, and it's so far, so good. I'm up to Chapter 21 right now, and things look pretty bleak for our heroes at this point. I think there's a chance it could turn out OK for them, though.

Is it any wonder I love stories so much...




Monday, October 1, 2018

****ing Swearing in ****ing Books



Happy October, everyone! Today's topic: swearing in books, followed by a quick review of Emma Trevayne's "Coda". Let us begin.

Finally, finally, finally I have a library card! Now I have officially moved into this town. It was soon after receiving this pages passport, though, that I had to come to grips with an inconvenient reality: my library has a painfully small Timothy Zahn section. Oh well. There's always inter-library loans.

But I had to read something and fast before I went into withdrawl. After looking through the Young Adult section (how can they have a whole manga section with no Fullmetal Alchemist, One Piece, or One Punch Man??), I happened across one of the rare YA sci-fi titles - "Coda" by Emma Trevayne. I took it home and read it in less than a week.

What did I think of it? Keep reading 'till the end.

All prospective parents, take caution: the F-bomb is a primary weapon in this book, not to mention some non-explicit sexual scenes. It looks like "Coda" was intended for the upper end of the Young Adult market, if it doesn't cross over into New Adult entirely. No doubt the language reflects the harsh realities the characters much face, but it got me thinking. Thinking, in particular, about how swear words are used in modern literature.

I hope none of you are saying to yourselves, "Oh, that crazy Catholic! Thinking himself the bastion of pure language in a world that's beneath him!" Well, it's a good thing none of you can see me through this laptop, swearing a blue streak at Team Fortress 2 whenever it locks up. Even though I'm not proud of that fact, I have to concede that cussing your tongue black is a legitimate gut reaction. It's raw, it's honest, it's an immediate reaction that opens a window into the character's head.

But do not start sprinkling the verbo-nuclear weapons into your manuscript just yet. In order to get my ****ing Seal of Approval, the book's voice has to earn it.

Per ezzempio, one of my favorite books of all time, hand on heart, is "The Martian" by Andy Weir (and looking at his website, bloody hell, he's got another book coming out that's already earned all those Awesome Book Awards). For the benefit of both of you who haven't read it, Mark Watney is the protagonist of "The Martian"--and he has a famously foul mouth. It is awesome. I think one of the best things about his swear word arsenal is that it is rarely used in anger; heck, when it is an angry F-bomb, it is not often directed at people. He normally swears at himself or his malfunctioning equipment. That's something that draws me in as a reader. It shows me he has humility in addition to a relatable patience level.

When characters in other books swear at somebody, never in humor and never at their own foibles, it repels me and, if I may make a presumption, other readers as well. Granted, a well-directed string of F-bombs and D-bullets is understandable in those moments of extreme duress and tension--and hopelessness. Those instances in general are powerful. However, the fallout of a casual yet hateful F-bomb is more repellent than attractive.

Having mildly defended the F-bomb, though, there is one trend I would like to see in the future. I want to see the return of the Shakespearian Insult. I don't mean you have to call people those Elizabethan turns of phrase that you tend to see in Facebook memes nowadays; I mean that we need more creative insults. Salami brain. Thrice-cursed mudslinger. Half-gut. Weasel teeth. Muffin head (OK, I stole that last one from the comic strip Calvin and Hobbes). Those (most of those) I thought up on the spot, so obviously they're not that good; but I hope they symbolize the trend I'd like to see.

In essence: once the character's creativity and resourcefulness is established in both language and action, then I tolerate the F-bombs. Then those weapons have their intended effect--the intensification of feeling.

On to my quick review of "Coda".

Here's my one-sentence synopsis: A teenager named Anthem finds himself leading a musical revolution against an all-controlling dystopian corporation that keeps its citizens in line with drugged music. It's a rather original concept for a normally overworked setting, and thankfully the good stuff doesn't stop there. "Coda" seems to have a fairly thought-out world that the author had a good time making. The protagonists are a diverse bunch--mostly from the lower class, where the Anthem lives. The romance angle, while sometimes cloying (but I am a rather romance-low writer myself), had more than a few understandable and interesting turns that reflected the plot. Overall, I thought it was a good book.

It doesn't have a completely clean bill of health, I must admit. The interesting concept and world, while interesting, are often barely explained and hard to visualize. The Evil Corporation felt more cartoonishly evil than well-intentioned-but-selfishly-executed. Anthem himself could have used a little extra zing; while I was interested in him as a character, I don't think he'd make a good buddy in real life. Anthem is also a bisexual (HOLD IT--keep reading, and stop that "Crazy Catholic" chant), but that angle still felt off. I hesitate to say it, and I might be digging too deep or shallow in saying it, but it sounded like Emma Trevayne didn't believe in that angle herself. I mean, as Anthem gets progressively weaned off dependence on the drugged music, he swings more and more hetero. It gives a faint impression that homosexuality is synonymous with a lack of impulse control. Whether or not that was intended, it feels like the gay angle was there to check off the box on publishers' wishlists, a popular trend that could come at the expense of a healthy story scrutiny.

I still favor and recommend "Coda". Honestly, the cons don't sink it, and this is a debut novel for Trevayne. It was an interesting read, and I might even read it again so I won't be as confused as I was on my first go-round.

To end this post, I end with the most important point I can make about "Coda"; it is far and away better than Rick Yancey's "5th Wave". Sorry Rick, but odds are I'll be grinding my teeth at that book until my dying day.

Or at least until I get put on musical drugs.



Sunday, September 16, 2018

Life Update and Minor Reflections



So now I'm a journalist.

Yep, now I'm gainfully employed. As I'm writing this, I've been a staff writer for a couple of weeks. I've been taking photos, interviewing people, transcribing the recordings of those interviews because my handwriting is too slow for reliable note-taking, putting together stories, sending those stories to editors, and getting those stories back with many, many revision notes. Oh, and then at some point those edited stories get published. So it differs from my normal sci-fi writing on four levels:

  • I am taking photos;
  • I am not making things up--really;
  • I am no longer using Oxford commas (because AP style);
  • I am getting published and paid on a regular basis.

This does mean, though, that as I have been learning the ropes and covering some breaking news, I do not have a library card yet. Hopefully I will do that soon and then can read some new books, but until that point I haven't had much time to come up with any poignant reflections on the craft of writing.

But I can tell you for certain that writing and photography--and probably all creative arts in general--share a common trait:

The first attempt always sucks. After that, who knows?



Monday, September 3, 2018

Back in a Bit!


Hello everyone! Sorry, but there will be no 1st-half-of-September post (aside from this one); I've just moved and am getting everything set up--including my wifi--so I haven't had much time to pointlessly muse on anything. Keep an eye on this blog come September 16th, though. Should have something for you then.

Thanks!


Thursday, August 16, 2018

Comparing How People Get Eaten






           Summer is drawing to a close, and I have seen two summer blockbusters that, upon reflection, look like they were the same movie. Imagine!

           But I enjoy comparing two similar stories, especially when it feels like one worked and the other...not so much. Today's quality comparison, then, falls to these two sci-fi-ish horror-ish films: Jurassic Word: Fallen Kingdom and the more recent The Meg.

           Normally I'm not a huge fan of the people-getting-suddenly-eaten-by-large-toothy-monsters genre, but I made an exception because...well, I have a big sister who seems to be a fan and I have a hard time saying no to movie invitations. Lord help me if she ends up on a chick flick bend.

           Still, I'm glad I went to see them.

           Let us begin. I'll do my best to keep the spoilers to a minimum.

           When I say that Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom (henceforth "JWFK") and The Meg (henceforth "SHARK") have a lot in common, I mean they have a LOT in common. I thought it was only a mild case when I was walking out of SHARK, but after more time stewing over it, it's definitely more than that.

           Overall, both are about large prehistoric carnivores awakened by rather reckless scientists and entrepreneurs. They (the carnivores) then go on to wreak havoc upon an unsuspecting yet strangely tasty world (do killing machines ever get full? Ever?).

           Both movies have a fit, white, middle-age, devil-may-care, scruffy-and-rough-yet-handsome protagonist.

           Both movies have a serous science-genius love interest for said protagonist. She's also fit and has moments of devil-may-care-ness.

           Both movies have a young pre-10-year-old daughter figure who is good at sneaking around scientific facilities.

           Both movies have well-equipped scientific facilities funded by wealthy white guys.

           And yes, both movies make antagonists out of those wealthy white guys.

           And yes again, both movies will provide a gruesome end to those wealthy white guys. (As a white guy myself, I now plan to be the most paranoid billionaire ever should I manage to grow up and become wealthy.)

           Both movies will jumpscare the life out of you.

           Both movies have ill-fated sumbersible missions.

           Heck, both movies have spherical glass vehicle thingies.

           Finally, both movies emphasize the importance of NOT remaining calm after trauma. Really, if anyone breathes a sigh of relief in these movies, that's the surest sign that person--normally a male--is about to become a toothpick for some serrated triangular dentures.

           Okay, that's enough with the similarities (for now). SHARK and JWFK do have their differences, of course. For instance, the former is clearly a standalone movie, while the latter is begging for a sequel. But their biggest difference is what most definitely separates them in my mind, and makes me favor one over the other.

           And the difference is...

           ...whether or not the movie allows the audience a breather.

           JWFK, regrettably, did not give us much in terms of a safe haven. It was a straight-up tense-fest from the beginning, throwing out jumpscares towards the end like a machine gun throws out bullets. It didn't give me much time to focus on the characters, and above all, it got me desensitized to whatever horror was happening onscreen. If it'd been five minutes since the last spontaneous dismemberment, you could bet your blood-soaked bloomers another one was coming around the corner. Oh hey, there it is. Wave goodbye to another disposable white guy.

           SHARK, on the other hand, had a few moments of peace and quiet. Oasises...um, oases...bah, a number of calm places allowed the characters to loosen up a little and maybe illustrate some character growth and/or dynamics. They quieted the nerves--which were often still thrumming from the last time something or someone got bitten in half. Afterward, the calm spots helped enhance each horrific subsection of the film; while JWFK kept the scares coming until they got boring, SHARK threw in helpful reminders of what not-scary looked like so that we could lose it again when the Megalodon reappeared. JWFK kept pounding us with ice water until we got numb, while SHARK allowed us a moment in the hot tub before ducking us with ice water again. And as anyone who has been in a hot tub knows, that makes the ice water so much worse.

           I do have my complaints about SHARK. First, there was a scene with a multi-helicopter accident that was a bit much. Second, how come the Megalodon didn't become an angry balloon after ascending from the bottom of the freakin' Mariana Trench? The atmospheric pressure is LITERALLY over a thousand times greater down there...but whatever. As a story, I say it works better than JWFK.

           Therefore I conclude with some practical writing advice; if you really want your characters to suffer, give them a break every so often. I've read YA books that seem to follow the JWFK model of pounding the heroes into the ground. When I read those, there's no suspense in them. I've already given up hope when the main character is trying something risky before the finale, so when the plan does go south, my response is a hearty "Knew it." It sounds a little counterintuitive, but trust me, hope is what pushes readers to the edge of the seat.

           Once they're there, then you can start feeding people to the shark.

           (P.S. SHARK also did a much better job with the precocious pre-10-year-old girl. She was a seriously excellent character. She wins my first-ever Mysterious Benedict Society award for her line, "8-year-olds hear everything.")



Wednesday, August 1, 2018

#PWPoePrompts Week Five



#PWPoePrompts has concluded! Here are my final few tweets before July ended: it was an interesting exercise overall--definitely built up my Twitter following--and it will hopefully pay off when PitchWars begins. Now, though, the #BoostMyBio phase has begun, and I've made my own page here for that.

But anyway--the tweets:











Sunday, July 29, 2018

#PWPoePrompts Week Four



Why yes, I DID almost forget to post this...

























Sunday, July 22, 2018

#PWPoePrompts Week Three



Another good week in the ol' #PWPoePrompts Twitter forum this week. Stick around until the end of this post; I have some exciting non-Poe-Prompts news as well!


















And last but not least...!




Sunday, July 15, 2018

#PWPoePrompts Week Two



A lot of WIP things this week--my favorite!























Sunday, July 8, 2018

#PWPoePrompts Week One



Good times on the #PWPoePrompts so far! Here's my contribution compilation for Week One; do try to ignore the low numbers. Being a new tweeter has its drawbacks.




















Sunday, July 1, 2018

July: Month of #PWPoePrompts!



This month is going to be a little different.

While I was hunting around Twitter for anything remotely useful, I happened across Pitch Wars
(@PitchWars), which is--according to the Twitter page--a "mentoring program ending in an agent pitch round."

For July, in order that the #pitchwars people can get to know each other better, Pitch Wars is putting on a series of Twitter writing prompts, one for each day of the month. Here they are:



...so guess what I'm doing today?

That's right! I'm writing up a bunch of responses to these prompts ahead of time because I suck at doing these kinds of things on the fly.

Want to see my contributions to this Twitter stream? Well, you can either follow my feed at @ultrasonnek or, if you don't want to click on that conveniently placed link, you can come back to this blog; I'll be putting up weekly collections of my own #PWPoePrompts so you can see a week's worth in one go.

It'll also save me from having to compose another blog post halfway through the month.

Enjoy! I certainly plan to do so.



Saturday, June 16, 2018

The Humor Column That Time Forgot!




So I’m job hunting. Those hapless employers who have seen my résumé know by now that, while in college, I was both a reporter and a humor columnist for our school paper.

Yes, I am an English Major and a reporter. As an English Major, I am devoted to the Oxford Comma. As a reporter, I had to begrudgingly deny its existence to learn the AP Style of writing. It hurt so much, yet somehow I am still alive.

As a humor columnist, though…

I’m glad our paper’s general editor saw value in 500 words of utter nonsense taking up space somewhere in the inside fold. For me, it was a great creative writing exercise because—unlike my work as a reporter—I got to make things up. Readers of the paper seemed to appreciate my un-contributive contribution as well; fellow students I didn’t recognize would, on occasion, stop me to tell me how much they liked my latest piece in the paper.

“Which piece?” I would ask. Nobody ever replied “That news story.” They often didn’t know that I wrote news stories as well. Sign of the times, maybe.

Anyway, I had a nice long (well, one-year) career making fun of campus things, such as Homecoming, statuary, and the campus dating scene. I even wrote a piece about fitness and my FitBit, entitled “The Fit Ness Monster”, and d*** if that isn’t one of the best headlines I’ve ever written. But I did have plenty of other column candidates that were never used in our paper, probably for good reason. Well, this is my blog, and I hold sovereignty here. Today, I share with everyone a never-seen-before installation of my humor column, written at the beginning of the 2017 Fall Semester, talking about a subject familiar to the souls and stomachs of students and scriveners alike: procrastination.

Everything you read in here is, sadly, true. Enjoy!

#

Procrazzztination


Let’s talk about procrastination.

*pause*

Here’s how dedicated I am to this topic; in between that last sentence and this one I’m writing now, I played a long computer game, packed for college, went to Mass, slept, loaded up the car and drove to college, unpacked in my apartment, hung out, and slept again, plus all the necessary meals in between. Having established I’m an expert in industrious procrastination, let’s talk about it. I’ll be back in a minute (hey, you try doing anything useful on Eclipse Day).

*pause*

The Caf breakfast was alright. I still think there’s some residual summer goofing-off I need to manage, so if you’ll excuse me…

*pause*

Should I really goof off right now? Eh, why not. I blame the muggy weather.

*continued pause*

You know what? I’m going to go off and write a wholly separate article while another idea I just had is still fresh. Don’t let me forget about this one.

*pause*

There, the first draft of that other column is complete. I don’t like first drafts, though. Too disorderly. A proofread and review is in order.

*pause*

*pause*

*more pause*

A lot more than just proofreading occurred there. Let’s just say that classes began since the last time I worked on this piece. I’m waiting for one of those classes to begin right now, so let’s talk about procrastination in the meantime. Now where was I…wait, the class is beginning already? Gotta go—and I won’t be back in an hour, since there’s another class I have after this one and the buildings are far enough apart to merit a taxi service.

*pause*

Okay, the classes are done, but now I have homework. No no, stop rolling your eyes; I know you’re expecting me to type in
*pause*
but I assure you, no
*pause*
is actually occurring. See, this is the perfect time to bring up what I call the “Procrastination Continuum”, a term I made up just now. In order to explain this concept, I need a little while to organize my thoughts.

*actual pause*

That took a couple of days and a few classes; that’s about how organized my thoughts are. The Procrastination Continuum is simply the scale on which a person’s tasks are arranged. The placement of the task on the scale determines how fast it gets done. For instance, I could consider this particular topic as lower on my continuum than a completely different article I hypothetically want to write, and it wouldn’t get done as soon.

*pause to work on other article*

There are many factors to consider in a single task’s placement on this scale, but if I take a second to compile them you might never see me again. A few off the top of my head, then, include length of the project (the longer, the more put-off), real-life importance (the more important, the more put-off), and whether or not you were the one who thought of it (if you didn’t think of it, well, it’s never gonna happen). Gender is also a significant factor—which is one of the reasons why it had better be an emergency of serious, potentially interdimensional proportions before you even consider using a guy’s bathroom. That hovel is a monument to procrastination; monumental in the sense that it will never move without divine interference.

I’d love to keep talking about this, but I have homework to do.

*ten-second pause*

But first, let’s talk about the more recreational forms of procrastination…