Now for something different

This is a costume designed by the guy whose sketch I posted a few weeks back, and who also worked up the costume for my "Mon Petite Poney" poster from a few months ago (what's even better -- those are his shoulders modeling it).  He's one of those people who's become fearless thanks to the intolerance slung his way, so his line of clothing is just as brash and don't-give-a-fuck as you can imagine.  I love reading his blog (check out House of Vader in the "blogs I follow" section below...just not at work), even when I think he's gone a bit too far.

Me...it's hard as hell for me to even go far enough (a limitation that is telling in this "farce" I'm trying to write).  Which is a funny thing for me to say, considering the books I've written and were published.  They're as brash and in-your-face as Dave can be, but with a novel you can still hide a little.  And that's what I do.

I simply don't share this aspect of my life with the people I know here in Buffalo because I also know they'd be a bit freaked out about it.  No, that's not right -- I ASSUME they'd be freaked out.  Because it would freak me out...I guess.

It's all pretty silly, and it's not like the shadows you hide in can't eventually be illuminated by any light anyone shines into them.  And my recent experience with Amazon showed me I'll still stand up for my work when it's been threatened or dissed, even in the face of people telling me not to.  But that doesn't come from my living the life I want; it's due to me getting pissed off and saying, "You ain't gonna pull that shit on me."  And then slamming back in my usual "scorched earth" policy.

Dave, however, shows me what true courage is -- living your life like you want and fuck the consequences.  The old, I am what I am" attitude, with a strong splash of "and if you don't like it, that's your problem."  He makes me want to be better in my own world.

So thanks, Dave.  You kick.

Dog chases tail

I finally have the section of LD leading up to where Daniel reaches the cabin in decent enough shape to when I can plow ahead.  He's still a bit too indistinct for me to feel great about this, yet, but now I can see some spine in him and making the whole thing Tad's idea works a LOT better.  It's going to change details later in the story, but this'll do till I'm through it, again.  Then I may follow through with some other aspects I want to rearrange.

Pretty day, today.  I was out and about doing laundry and getting some groceries and running other errands.  I wanted to get my car washed but the line at the place was 10 cars deep so blew that off.  Still, the salt on the roads really clings to your car's finish, and I want it off before it begins to rip through the paint and start some rusting.

I bought Muse's "Revolution" -- and while I like the music, the CD itself is pretty poorly done.  Songs are mashed together that should not be in close proximity, and the opening song cuts in and out while the music is going.  In fact, I'm really surprised at how awkward many of the transitions are.  Neither Depeche Mode nor Enigma never would let such awkwardness onto one of their CDs.

Brilliant blog and on FaceBook!

Check out this NY Times online series dealing with what lead up to the Civil War 150 years ago.  It's fantastic!

http://www.facebook.com/nytimescivilwar

And it's scary just how similar the events from then are to the events of today.

Check this out, too -- http://kalman.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/02/26/in-love-with-a-lincoln/

Went in to work for a while, today, to try and get a jump on next week's chaos.  That's when over 100 book dealers from the US, Canada and Europe are being picked up to be taken to the California Book Fair in San Francisco.  And way too many of the Euro-boiz have yet to hand in the paperwork needed to get them through customs or have errors on the paperwork they HAVE handed in that needs correcting before it can be submitted.  You'd think book dealers, who live in a world of intelligence and literacy, would be able to read the friggin' instructions they were given, but nooooooooooo...

I have a feeling this will not be a fun week.  So I hereby make a pledge to keep the crap at work AT work and not populate this blog with my angst.

Now it's turkey dinner time...and writing, writing, writing.  Or should I say, RE-writing?

Magical snowflaking

This morning I found my car under a light dusting of snow...not so unusual the last couple months.  I started it up and, as the engine warmed, I brushed off the snow from my windows.  Then I got inside and fastened my seatbelt...and a single, tiny, perfectly white, six-pointed snowflake landed on the glass directly in front of me...and I felt as if I'd slipped into another world, for a moment.

I'm somewhat used to seeing the snow come down in clumps and batches, and sometimes when I look out my window I imagine it to be playful faeries caught in the joy of the breezes dancing around them.  But this time...this time it was as though one had noticed me and stopped to look back at this creature who would not join in the fun.  It was quickly joined by others -- not in huge numbers but a few here and there, each one just as precise and lovely as its companions, and all of them just as focused on me as though they were tiny little beings and not merely slivers of ice.  How could I help but smile at the thought?

I'd always known snow comes down in six-pointed designs, supposedly no two flakes alike, but I'd never actually considered the reality of it.  The simple tender elegance it carries.  The startling understanding that something you've been told exists -- and that you believed and accepted without ever actually seeing for yourself -- it is the honest truth.

I don't know what this means, yet...if anything.  If it really could count as a moment of grace in my world.  All I can see right now is how long that charming, delicate, tiny white thing stayed on my windshield, watching me as I drove on to work...until it became bored and flitted away, joining with the others as they danced in the playful breezes.

God, how I wish I could have joined it.

New book out!

Volume 3 of "Bobby Carapisi" is now available at both Barnes & Noble and Amazon.  I say buy it at B&N if you want it because it's discounted to $12.95 if you're a B&N member (which I am) and I get the same amount in royalties, no matter what.  Amazon doesn't discount until it's shown it will sell decently, which may never happen; this set hasn't done well in sales...but I don't really care.  I did right by Bobby and Eric, and now let Allen tell his own story his own way.  Plus this is the last volume of the story.  Now I can offer it as a box set, if the publisher will go along with that idea.

I've already decided the opening of LD needs a bit more tweaking; it's still too lumpy and dense, to me, and I'm not thrilled with how Daniel's coming across now.  Maybe I'll add more sex to it.  That seems to sell.  I did have a better idea for the ending, one that doesn't wander off but ends with just the right note.  So...no more postings of the story till it and I can figure each other out and be happy with what's being done.

Good thing I'm not in NYC, right now.  I'd be stuck.  It's funny -- I enjoy the snow and don't mind driving in it so much, though my car's really filthy and needs to have the salt washed off it, soon.  I don't even mind the occasionally bitter cold.  It's warm where I work and live and my car's heater does good.  One of the smartest things I ever did was buying my little Honda.  It's been a blessing.

Just for fun...

I'm posting the rewrite I just did of the first six pages of LD, if anybody wants to see how they've changed in the space of 24 hours.


"The Lyons' Den"

Y‘know, Daniel never should’ve agreed to help Tad (excuse me, Theodore J. Bentley, the Third; he’d snarl in disgust without the full and flowing exclamation of his name) but the little shit knew exactly which buttons to push, and he hit every damned one of them with a sledgehammer. You see, the two of them had been a couple for a couple years and had only broken up six months ago, and Daniel was still raw from it. I seriously think that if he’d let his brain do the thinking instead of his dreams, he’d have seen straight off that this was a catastrophe in the making. But the way Tad rushed in, breathless, his ice-blue eyes projecting fear and need and horror on top of that hint of a quiver he can get in his voice, all but begging, “Danny, please, help me,” -- well, it would’ve crushed the first wall of any defense. So now he and Dan-O were seated in a downstairs booth, in a back corner of the diner’s faux 1890’s decor, and Tad was trying to explain it all.

Now Master Bentley was one of those young, perfect East Coast types who’s en route to being perfect on the West Coast (as in Hollywood, baby, since he’d already produced and had broadcast one whole cable movie; helps to know the sociology of the natives). So because of that movie, he was now considered a player by both coasts. It helped that the thing was based on “High-Heeled Moccasins,” a quirky mystery novel featuring yours truly, Ace Shostakovich, private eye extraordinaire and written by our one and only Daniel (excuse me, Daniel J. Bettancourt, tho’ I get to call him Dan-O).

Meaning, yes -- I’m not real. But if you think it’s weird a fictional character is telling this story, you ain’t seen what happened, yet.

Overall, Daniel has six of my mysteries to his credit, each one selling better than the last. But just being published don’t mean you’re making enough to live on in New York City. So while Tad was flying high playing Mr. Producer, my guy was still tending bar at two different jobs. Until this...well...problem arose.

You see, Little Sir Great-and-glorious had optioned two more of Dan-O’s books -- “The Dr. Pepper Tryst and Tristan” and “Cadillac Criminal Mind” -- aiming to start up a crime series for cable. Then he’d gone and hired this overpriced twenty-one-year-old-Cheeto-eater (who people SWORE was the hottest writer in Hollywood since Orson Welles; and look, I got nothing against Cheetos, just the idiots with dicks that think they’re a food group), well, anyway, Tad had given him free reign to adapt them into eight fifty-five page scripts, something to show the money boys at HBO. And he’d just gotten them. And believing the hype around that screenwriter, he’d arranged to meet with the “yea or nay” guy at HBO on Monday. And only then had finally sat down to read the damned things -- and had watched the crash and burn of his fledgling career scream across his designer contacts.

Seems the Cheeto-eater’d had so little interaction with reality (since birth, probably), he was incapable of making fictional characters act like real ones instead of second-rate film noir clichés with crap dialog. But just as he was about to pretend to toss himself off the balcony of his 45th floor condo, great-and-glorious-producer remembered Daniel worked Friday lunches at a diner that was just blocks away, so raced over to catch him. And now his wailing and gnashing of teeth was caught in this non-stop loop of, “ALL the scripts are crap, all fuckin’ eight of them, including the Bible.” (“The Bible” not being that book of Christian conflict but one that outlined the direction the characters and story would take; also helps to know the lingo of the natives, in cases like this.)

“Tad!” (Daniel being the only one allowed to call him that.) “I write books, not scripts.”

He was sitting across from the twerp, nursing a hunger headache since he hadn’t had a chance to eat before work and now it was after four.

“But they’re based on your books! And you’re the one who was always telling me, A story’s a story.”

“A script isn’t a story,” Dan-O growled, “it’s a desecration.”

“Danny!” (And Tad was the only person allowed to call Daniel by that name.) “I told you from the outset, you can’t fit everything from a two-hundred and fifty page book into an hour and forty minute movie. And don’t forget, reviewers still said we stuck really close to your story.”

Daniel had no real answer to that. The fact is, the movie had turned out nice enough...but it just wasn’t...well, it wasn’t right. He’d have kept Ace (me) less cynical and made sure Carmen (oh, she’s my sexy secretary), well she’d have been more important, like in the book. But there’d been enough money in selling the rights to pay down a couple of bills and get a better apartment, so he couldn’t bitch too much. And since this series of scripts were based on his books, he probably did have a pretty good idea of what they’d need to work.

It helped that a perky little waitress who had a crush on my guy whipped up with a steaming cheeseburger and fries, and he popped out with, “Bless you,” before he could filter the words. She beamed and backed away, muttering something unintelligible as Dan-O hauled out the ketchup and mustard. I just shook my head and sighed, “Dude, if you were a horn doggie, you’d be set for tonight.”

My guy just growled and shoved a steak fry into his mouth.

“C’mon, Danny,” Tad whined, “you’re the guy who always said -- and I mean you said it every time you got stuck on a story -- ‘My characters’ll work it out; Ace’ll take care of everything.’”

“Gotta admit -- he’s right, for once,” I sneered.

“Which you said made me sound crazy!” Dan-O snapped.

“Since when did you pay any attention to anything I’d say?” Tad snapped.

Dan-O dug into the burger to hide his snarls as he said, “I remember everything you said, Tad.”

Tad rolled his eyes in that way that always pissed my guy off. Not so much because it was condescending or dismissive, but because he looked so damned good when he did it, the little shit. Even when he shot back with crap like, “Yeah, well, it’s true -- I’ve seen you say things” (his words, honest) “that would’ve put you in a padded room, fifty years ago. But I’ve also seen it work. I -- I should never have said that, Danny. I’m -- I’m sorry.”

Which floored Daniel. Tad really was one of those perfect people who never admits error in anything, and who has the looks, attitude and charisma to pull it off. If he says the sky is green, it sorta-kinda would be -- even when it’s really blue. If he says the world is flat -- hell, not even the horizon will argue with him. But here was big, bad, beautiful Tad -- oops, Theodore J. Bentley, the Third (I keep forgetting, one must have one’s moniker correct, you know, and...and...oh, the hell with it; let him snarl) -- here he was, admitting error.

It knocked Daniel off center just enough for the bastard to jump in with, “It’s just -- Danny, this series -- it’s only as good as the scripts I hand over for those jerks with the network to mangle with their notes and suggestions and stupid-shit ideas and -- and, you -- you’ve got six books out there, all nice and neat and selling and all yours and -- and all I got is my ass on the line, putting more money into this project than I should’ve, hiring that twerp and -- and the meeting’s Monday! At noon! If you don’t do this, I’m fucked. I’m totally fucked. I’ll get sued and put in jail and spend my life bankrupt. Please help me, Daniel Bettancourt; you’re my only hope.” Aw, jeez, the “Star Wars” reference!? That was below the belt! 


And it will continue to change till I'm done with it.  I can polish my work to the point of madness.

NYC is not to be

And I'm beat, and did some more l writing...and here's the new direction for LD's opening. Hope it's better.

The Lyons' Den

Y‘know, Daniel never should’ve agreed to help Tad (excuse me, Theodore J. Bentley, the Third; he’d snarl in disgust without the full and flowing exclamation of his name), but the little shit knew exactly which buttons to push. And he hit every damned one of them with a sledgehammer.

You see, Master Bentley was one of those young, perfect East Coast types who just KNOWS he’s meant to be perfect on the West Coast (meaning Hollywood, baby, since he’d already produced and shown one whole cable movie; helps to know the background of the natives). And because of that one movie, he was already considered a player by both coasts. It helped that it was based on a rather successful mystery novel written by Daniel -- “High-Heeled Moccasins,” featuring yours truly, Ace Shostakovich. And the crème-de-la-crème was that he even had an option on two other books of Daniel’s to make into a crime series for cable. Also featuring me.

Meaning, yes -- I’m the lead character in them books. But if you think it’s weird somebody who’s not real is telling this story, you ain’t seen what happened, yet.

Overall, Daniel (excuse me, Daniel J. Bettancourt, but I get to call him Dan-O) has six of my mysteries to his credit. Unfortunately, being published don’t necessarily mean you’re making enough to live on in New York City. So while Tad was flying high playing Mr. Producer, my guy was still tending bar at two different jobs. Until this...well...”problem” arose.

You see, Little Sir Great-and-glorious went out and hired this overpriced twenty-one-year-old-Cheeto-eater (who people SWORE was the hottest screenwriter in Hollywood since Orson Welles) to do the adaptations of those two books into scripts. Give him something to show the money boys. And Tad had just gotten the screenplays. And he’d arranged to meet with the “yea or nay” guy at HBO on Monday. And only then had he sat down to read the damned things -- and had seen his fledgling career crash and burn before his designer contacts. Seems the Cheeto-eater’d had so little interaction with reality (since birth, probably), he had problems making fictional characters act like real ones instead of second-rate film noir clichés with crap dialog. But just as he was about to fake-toss himself off the balcony of his 45th floor condo, great-and-glorious-producer remembered Daniel worked Friday lunches at a diner that was just blocks away, so raced over to catch him.

At this point I should make it known, Tad and Dan-O were a couple for over two years. Fact is, they’d broken up only six months ago and my guy was still raw from it, so anybody with half a brain could’ve told you that this was a catastrophe in the making. But the way Tad rushed in, breathless, his ice-blue eyes projecting fear and need and horror on top of that hint of a quiver he can get in his voice, as he all but begged, “Danny, please, help me,” -- well, it would’ve crashed the first wall of any defense. So now he and Dan-O were seated in a downstairs booth, in a back corner of the diner’s faux 1890’s decor, and Tad was going on with, “ALL the scripts are crap, all fuckin’ eight of them, including the Bible.” (“The Bible” not being that book of Christian conflict but one that outlined the direction the characters and story would take; also helps to know the lingo of the natives, in cases like this.)

“Tad!” (Daniel being the only one allowed to call him that.) “I write books, not scripts.”

“But they’re based on your books! And you’re the one who was always telling me, A story’s a story.”

“A script isn’t a story,” Dan-O growled, “it’s a desecration.”

“Danny!” (And Tad was the only person allowed to call Daniel by that name.) “I told you from the outset, you can’t fit everything from a two-hundred and fifty page book into an hour and forty minute movie. And don’t forget, reviewers still said we stuck really close to what you wrote.”

Daniel had no real answer to that. The fact is, the movie had turned out nice enough...but it just wasn’t...well, he’d have kept Ace (me) less cynical and made sure Carmen (oh, she’s my sexy secretary) stayed more important, like in the book. But he’d made enough money off the rights to pay down a couple of bills and get a better apartment, so he couldn’t bitch too much. And since this series of scripts were based on what he’d written, he probably did have a pretty good idea of what they’d need to work.

“Besides,” Tad said, “you’re the guy who always said -- and I mean every time you got stuck on a story, ‘My characters’ll work it out. Ace’ll take care of everything.’”

“Which you said made me sound crazy!”

“You know what I meant,” Tad snapped.

Dan-O slipped into a sulk. “Did I? Did anybody? Really?”

Tad rolled his eyes in that way that always pissed my guy off. Not so much because it was condescending or dismissive, but because he looked so damned good when he did it, the little shit. Even when he shot back with crap like, “Yeah, right, I’ve seen you say things” (his words, honest) “that would’ve put you in a padded room, fifty years ago. But I’ve also seen it work. I should never have said that, Danny. I’m -- I’m sorry.”

Which floored Daniel. Tad really was one of those perfect people who never admits they’re wrong about anything, and have the looks, attitude and charisma to pull it off. If he says the sky is green, it sorta-kinda is -- even when it’s really blue. If he says the world is flat -- hell, not even the horizon will argue with him. But here was big, bad, beautiful Tad -- oops, Theodore J. Bentley, the Third (I keep forgetting, one must have one’s moniker correct, you know and...and...oh, the hell with it; let him snarl) -- here he was, admitting error.

It knocked Daniel off center just enough for the bastard to jump in with, “It’s just -- Danny, this series -- it’s only as good as the scripts I hand over for those jerks with the network to mangle with their notes and suggestions and stupid-shit ideas and -- and, you -- you’ve got six books out there, all nice and neat and selling nice and steady and all yours and -- and all I got is my ass on the line, putting more money into this project than I should’ve, hiring that twerp and -- and the meeting’s Monday! At noon! If you don’t do this, I’m fucked. I’m totally fucked. I’ll get sued and put in jail and spend my life bankrupt. You -- you gotta help me, Daniel Bettancourt; you’re my only hope.”

Aw, jeez, the “Star Wars” reference!? That was below the belt!

Interruptions

I worked late so ate late so everything's off schedule, and tomorrow I'm going in early to find out if my trip to NYC is off.  Little late; I already have the plane tickets.

Still nothing on RIHC6v1 with Amazon.  Or from my publisher.  It's ALL available on B&N, both volumes, both electronically AND in paperback.  So how much of a dick do I want to be?

So...being in a mood, I watched another episode of "Dexter"...and wound up shaking my head.  This is episode 4 of season 1 and while the series is interesting in some ways, it is so dumb in others.  A serial killer breaks into Dexter's condo to get ideas for a "game" they're to play together, and Dexter, who's supposed to be really smart and amoral, doesn't t check to make sure everything he owns is intact.  He only stumbles upon clues left in his home as he stumbles through trying to catch this taunting murderer.  Also, a man is kept bound to a gurney for 3-4 days, bits of him being cut off every 24 hours to send messages to Dexter, yet when he's found he looks clean and healthy, not dehydrated, not filthy from his own urine since he's obviously not catheterized but had no place to pee, not delirious from loss of blood or the fact that he's now a double amputee or shock or anything, untouched by the rats shown running about the place.  A very Catholic woman praying in a church gets up and goes straight to see someone when a true Catholic would pause at the aisle to kneel in respect before turning her back on the altar (I'm not even Catholic and I know better than that).

It's dumb little things like this that take me out of a story by killing the truth of it, and that's often why I dislike movies other people like -- such as "Mystic River" and "Atonement" and "Pulp Fiction."  They pull stunts in those films that I just plain did not believe.  Hell, I didn't even like "Sophie's Choice" because it was so much of a set-up movie (meant to make you FEEL and come to certain TRUTHS through deliberate mash-ups of absurd characters), I yawned at the denouement.

And yes, I know, I seem to violate a story's truth, too, at times...but in my case it's usually at the service of the story (not always, but far more often than not).  I got comments that some of the people in LD don't act correctly for what they purport to be...and they're right; they don't, and in such a way as to seem ridiculous.    But it was all to a specific point -- that Daniel might be going crazy -- tho' I guess I should make that a bit clearer.

I'll get back to it, tomorrow and hopefully have a first draft of a third draft done before I head out to LA.  Then I'll work on the second draft of the third draft and then the third and then...who knows?

Tomorrow's the SOTU Address by Obama.  I've got better things to do that listen to him turn more Republican than even Reagan was.

Startling truths...

Of a writer's worth in Hollywood.

And that's if you're lucky.  But at least this guy has the right idea...if he doesn't mind.  (I get the feeling he wants to direct, due to the storyboards in the BG.)

My problem was, I was stupid enough to think you can't make a movie without a script, so the scriptwriter is most important.  It took me years to realize I was in this "Alice In Wonderland" world where up is down and left is right and value is measured by who's willing to blow you in order to get ahead.  No wonder I never "got" the game; nobody wanted to even kiss me.

I've reworked the opening chapter to LD and by doing a bit of reversal achieved a number of things --

1.  Daniel is no longer as needy as he was.
2.  I establish earlier that he tends bar to make ends meet while Tad is a trust fund baby.
3.  The whole set-up is Tad's idea from the outset, with him offering to take Daniel to Bermuda as the carrot and Daniel losing out on the $100K if the project fails as the stick.
4.  Ace jumps in sooner to introduce himself and Carmen.

I THINK it's become more dynamic with a definite forward motion...but you never know.  I may post chapter 1 in bits once I've gone back over and proofed for typos and missing words.  I'm bad about that when I get running.  I also need to make sure I keep track of which version I'm dealing with.  I think I sent out an unproofed version of the story to a couple of people I'd asked for feedback.  Dumb.

I've begun watching Season One of "Dexter" on Netflix.  It's available for immediate viewing; none of this waiting for the disk to come.  So far I'm enjoying it more than I did "True Blood" but it does seem a bit casual about reality...even within its own universe.

Woo-Hoo

ALL of my books are available at Barnes & Noble (see link at bottom of page) and four of them are in Nook format!  They've even linked to the anthology that holds my novella, "Perfection."  Amazon won't even CONSIDER doing that.  In fact, they're still dicking around with putting back up the paperback of RIHC6v1 and have yet to post the electronic edition of RIHC6v2.  So I'm still buying my stuff from B&N.  Amazon is just too much of a pain in the butt.

I'm currently reading Stephen Sondheim's " "Finishing the Hat" and it's fun...but it's not as detailed about how he made his greatest musicals as I thought it would be.  I bought it because "Cyber-Tribes" (my update of Aristophanes' "The Birds") wants to be a rock-musical.  I even have songs I'm using as templates for it -- like "Undisclosed Desires" and "Uprising" by Muse on their "Resistance" album.  Man, I'm building up a backlog of works to complete; I better get down to it and stop sitting around whimpering and whining so damn much.

Keith Olbermann either quit or was forced out at MSNBC, probably due to Comcast buying them out or merging or something; I'm not clear who's after whom, here.  The right wing assholes are crowing because the few liberal voices on the air are being silenced, one by one.  Rachel Maddow is probably next.  I've already begun to refer to America as the US-STFU-A since the rich have become owners of the whole fucking country and its treasury, and thank you so fucking much, Obama, for helping them.  One term, asshole.

We've had that happen before -- beginning with Grant's administration running right up to Teddy Roosevelt...more than 30 years of GOP theft with Democrats acquiescing -- and we'll wind up just as screwed up as we were then.  Hell, one US Rep in Congress has actually said that child labor laws are unconstitutional (they aren't; he was referencing the wrong Supreme Court Decision...but I wouldn't put it past Scalia and Thomas to agree with the bastard if it was brought before them, again).  And most of the dickwads who put us there will never admit just how wrong or stupid they were to help that happen.  The devil has taken hold, again, and will not let go till he's done.

Okay, I've ranted for the day and now will focus on rewriting LD.

Does dyslexia extend to thoughts?

Sometimes I start in on a story thinking the characters are who they claim to be but then begin to realize I've got them backwards.  Not something as simple as thinking they're good when they're really bad or vice versa, but motivations and intentions and meaning can suddenly be reversed and make a hundred times more sense in the whole schematic of the tale being told.  It doesn't happen often, but when it does I get lost for a little while and have to thrash my way back out of the forest into the sunlight to regain my bearings.

I have some examples...but I honestly don't want to share them because I think they'd mess with people's ideas about my writing.  Well...I do have one I can reference -- Curt in "How To Rape A Straight Guy."  When I first started writing the book, I built him up as a dangerous man on the verge of madness, with a rage that is overwhelming him, and that is still in there.  Plus I knew it was heading for a nasty showdown but didn't know exactly what until he suddenly made a connection with one of his victims that startled even him.  Then he shifted from a rabid dog into a wounded animal and his life was opened up to me, even though he really did not want it to be.

No question what happens in the story is still way out there, but Curt's reversal took the book back from being mere erotica and into something more meaningful.  Well, to me, anyway.

This has me wondering if I was always meant to write books and just got myself focused on movies because of my art background.  In school right up through college I took classes in art.  I sketched and painted and fought with teachers over my work and could see myself as a starving artist out to be the next Picasso or even de Kooning.  But in high school I began to write and draw out odd little comic books that I never finished.  I also wrote short stories in long hand, in pencil, on a yellow pad -- including one about a serial killer that my English teacher really liked.  I was heavy into mysteries at the time and especially liked the Ellery Queen series.  I'd just finished reading "Cat of Nine Tales" and tried something similar, and he felt my story could have been a full-fledged book.

But then I just stopped and kept on with the art.  And then with film.  And then with screenwriting.  Paying minimal attention to the narrative writing except on rare occasions.  I can see why; I'm a visual person, sometimes tactile but not really very intellectual or honestly aware of how life functions.  I mean, I'm not incapable of coherent thought, it's just not my first choice...rather obviously, at times.  But now that I write books I'm finding myself trying to build an artist's image with movement and sound in the mind of a reader and have no idea if I'm really being successful because I don't have the reference points most people carry to tell me when I'm being an idiot and when I'm not.  I just have this gut reaction when something's right in my work, and I could no more explain why it is than I could quantum physics.

I guess my point is...by finally focusing on my deepening dyslexia, I'm seeing things I didn't see before in my writing.  And wondering if I've been neglecting it for no more reason than part of my brain just isn't where it needs to be.  It's just vanished.  So if anyone sees it running around, would you please point it back in my direction?  It would be nice to be whole of mind, again.  For a while, anyway.

And if you think this whole post is meant to mean anything, then you should have YOURSELF checked for dyslexia.

Oddness and impassivity

Ideas are beginning to pop into my mind over "The Lyons' Den."  Off-beat things that may add to the clarity of the story and clean up the opening.  Some of the feedback I've gotten I agree with; some I do not; some I don't even begin to understand.  But it's all good because it frees my mind from too close a link to the story and lets me question its telling and the teller -- not me but Ace.  He and I are going to have fun with this.

Something that gave me a surprising boost in awareness was watching "Born Yesterday" (1950), again.  It's a neatly constructed comedy with some brutally serious moments that has the typical message of how corruption is ruining everything America stands for.  Still a salient problem in the country, today, but lately its less because of money and more because of a corrupt ideology taking hold.  However, it was a quiet moment halfway into the movie that gave me a good smack.

Some background on the movie, first.  It's how the crass, dumb girlfriend of a crass, corrupt wheeler-dealer guy starts being "educated" by a newspaper reporter and winds up realizing she's been sleepwalking through life and wants to make a change in her direction...something the wheeler-dealer doesn't like.  It's all "if you read books you'll learn" kind of thinking -- with great reliance on the works of Thomas Payne and Thomas Jefferson and the like -- but the movie slyly points out that sometimes well-intentioned writers get so lost in their words they forget their meaning.

So what happens is, outside the Library of Congress the reporter (played by William Holden) asks the girlfriend (played by Billie Holliday) if she read an article he wrote.  She did, and she didn't understand any of it.  "And I looked up every word!"  He has her read it aloud to him and it's full of elegant thought and five dollar verbiage and I understood it, perfectly.  She still doesn't get it.  So he explains it to her in a simple, straightforward way...and the light goes on in her head and she says, "Why didn't you say so?"  And he has no answer.

That's then LD started knocking at the back of my brain.  And a little whisper started in my head saying, "You know, sometimes you obscure the simple facts with a lot of crap."  And I think that's what I did with the beginning of the novel, hiding it behind Ace doing his verbal dance.  I don't set the story up right, and that's why the opening is slow and difficult to connect with.  So...that's where I start.  And I've already got ideas of how to bring clarity to confusion and obfuscation (See?  I know big words, too).

I'm rewriting the books 4 times.  That should help clarify things.  Or not.  You never know till you know.

Some decisions made

Looks like I may be in California sooner than I expected.  Today we learned that big packing job in NYC is off; they couldn't justify the expense for the books that were going to be shipped out to London.  I'm still doing a 2-day trip to ship over the cream of the crop, but that's it.  Meaning I may be sent to handle the Pasadena Book Fair on the 6th with followup on the 7th.  We're discussing that, tomorrow.  Thing is, I'll then need to be in San Francisco on the 10th to handle a new deal we're offering...so it's going to be interesting, to say the least.  But I may have a couple days to visit family and friends instead of just an evening.

It's going to be bittersweet, being in LA.  I've given up on writing screenplays but, like an addict, still have the urge and the dream.  Don't get me wrong, I like writing books and love digging into the characters...but some things in my stories can only be done on film to get the full effect.  And it pains me to think I wasn't able to do that.

For example:  I wrote an update of sorts on the "Beauty and the Beast" story, setting it in a private school in Ann Arbor, Michigan during the winter.  Beauty is named Charl (Charlotte), whose father is being driven to bankruptcy, and "the beast" is Mitch, a boy who's mostly deaf and very ill-kempt.  Things happen to where Charl is forced to go on five dates with Mitch, even though she doesn't have the time (she's taken over as maid to her older, spoiled brother and sister).  Things do NOT go well on the first two and Charl almost breaks the third date (to a Christmas dance) but then her father tells her Mitch is downstairs and she decides to keep her agreement.  So she gets dressed in a Princess gown that was rejected by her sister and starts down the stairs and sees Mitch...and he's cleaned up and adorable.  And it's this moment...using a one-handed, Sati-like piano rendition of George Auric's elegant melody from Cocteau's "La Belle et La Bete"...as Charl descends the stairs and lets Mitch pin a corsage to her dress and slip a coat over her shoulders and lead her outside to see their chariot is a 1961 Lincoln Continental convertible with a chauffeur as he gently escorts her down to it and makes sure she's comfortable and warm before they drive away, all under her father's gentle gaze...all done in one shot with the camera softly gliding around them and with them and not a word of dialog...I can just see it.  I know it would have been magical.

Cocteau did a brilliant version of the story, all elegance and magic and poetry.  I'd watch it, now, but I don't have my Criterion copy of "La Belle et la Bete" anymore; I sold it while living in San Antonio because I was broke.

I have to stop this.  I'm in a different world now. 

Holding pattern

Seems I lost the thread for "Crazy Is" and can't figure out what to do next, so I'm just sort of floating along waiting for this mood to dissipate and brilliance to slap me on the back of the head and snarl, "Get with it!"

Quick quiz -- is the fox howling, yawning or calling out, "Hey, baby, hey, baby, hey, baby"?  Not the best looking yipper I've ever seen but he does seem intent.  I can be intent.  And my hair's about the same as his.  Maybe we're first cousins.  No...he's too close to a dog and I've always been more of a cat lazing about waiting for something to do.

Y'know, under the new rendition of the horoscope, I'd be a Cancer.  Considering how crabby I can get and how unlike a Leo I've ever really been, that may explain a lot.  I don't laze like a kitteh; I walk sideways into the future.

Just meandering, still.  No coherent thoughts to share beyond the idea it's time to finish LD and shift my life back to POS.  This sojourn has been illuminating and may color the story differently...but I won't know till I return to it.

Almmost back to normal

Everything is correct on Amazon except for the paperback edition of volume one of RIHC6.  That's still not listed.  The publisher knows and is working on it.  I guess I'll wait till he's done his thing before I say anything more.

I also got the cover art from them for BC-3 --

They sent it to me, today, with a note that if I really wanted something like the mock-up I'd sent them, yesterday, they'd have to have it done special and would delay the publishing of the book.  And it's already WAY behind the other two volumes.

Thing is, I sort of like this one.  It's not as intense as mine, but it does have Eric front and center with both Bobby and Allen in the background, and it fits in with the whole look.  So I said run with it.  My ego's not that big...not yet.

BTW, blogging the Golden Globes live is nowhere near as much fun as watching it live.  I felt more like one of those reporters watching the teletype wire in a 1930's crime movie and almost screamed for a "copy boy" twice since I was writing at the same time.  You'd have to watch something like "His Girl Friday" to understand.

Still no word on if I'm going to NYC this Friday or when I'm off to LA.  We're waiting for this auction house to okay the cost for the packing job, first.  Again...waiting and waiting.

BTW -- I let B&N know my name was spelled wrong on Friday, it's already corrected.  Amazon made me jump up and down and hold my breath till I turned blue before they'd change it.

21st century my ass

I tried to stream a broadcast of the Golden Globes, since I don't have a TV, and guess what?  You can't.  It's blacked out.  I can get blogs updating the show every few minutes or so, but can't watch the show itself, not even on NBC's own site.  How dumb is that?

So...hat's off to Chris Colfer for winning supporting actor in "Glee."
Annette Benning for winning best actress for "The Kids Are All Right."  I hope she gets the Oscar.

And I'll let the bloggies fill me in as the night goes along.

I had another idea for the cover of "Bobby Carapisi-3" thanks to Michael W.

This actually works ten times better than my previous idea, because it has the three principle characters on the cover and emphasizes Eric.  (Just to make it clear, these are models I culled off the interweb for my own mock-up; the art department of the publisher will make use of their own models and, hopefully, get close to this set of poses...or may ignore me completely; you never know.)

I worked more on "Crazy Is" while doing my laundry; one of the joys of having a laptop.  I finally understand what the story is about and it's settling into its new meaning...or actual meaning, since I didn't know what the meaning was before...except I did, I just couldn't figure out which synapse of my brain it was in and then had to find the proper code to release it and I think I better stop talking now.  But it's up to 6500 words and I still have no idea how long it will be.

Okay..Al Pacino and Aaron Sorkin are now winners.  Not unhappy.  But now I think I will get a TV.  I want to watch the Spirit Awards when they broadcast since they have a fun time mocking everything.  I may watch the video of the Golden Globes just to see Gervais in action.

Wow

A quick thought for the moment --

"Do I contradict myself?
Very well, then, I contradict myself;
(I am large -- I contain multiples.)"
-- Walt Whitman

If any single phrase ever defined a writer, this is it.

UPDATE:

I finished the proofing of "Bobby Carapisi, volume 3" and sent it back to the publisher along with my idea of how the cover should look.

This book finishes the story, completely, with Eric confronting his attacker and coming to some surprising conclusions.  And nobody is let off the hook, here...nor should they be.

The main thing is, I've done right by Bobby's story...and Eric's.  They'll be out there to be read by anyone who wants to.

I'm still having issues with Amazon over the re-posting of my banned books...though they are slowly addressing the issues I bring up -- like spelling my name wrong.  I just don't understand why that's so hard to do correctly.  It's on the friggin' cover, for crying out loud.  But it's not just Amazon; I'm having the same issue at Barnes & Noble...which makes me wonder if it's the publisher just uploading it wrong.  Which makes no sense; they KNOW my name and how to spell it correctly since it's done right in the contracts.  If it wasn't, I might be able to get out of them.

But I'm not just being a prima dona, here.  If my name's not right in their systems, the books don't link up with the Kindles and Nooks so people can't see everything that's offered.  Which may hurt sales.  So this is more mercenary...for the hope of eventually being paid something in the way of royalties.

Another problem is, the Kindles don't have prices.  When you go to those listings of my books, they say the pricing is not available.  I asked the publisher about this and he said he'd tried to correct it, already.  Well...until there's a price, nobody can buy the download.  So I'm hitting Amazon over that one, too.

I got my last bit of feedback on "The Lyons' Den" and need to rework the opening third.  It seems to be the weakest part for everyone.  Oh, well...I may have let Ace get a little carried away with some of his ways and word plays.  Let's see what consensus he and I can come to.

 Man...it seems the more I write the sloppier my typing becomes, and it was all over the place on LD.  I dropped words and letters and reversed meanings and forgot entire sentences.  Either my brain is too fast or my fingers is too slow...or a combination of the two.  Maybe my dyslexia is finally catching up to me.


 

Nothing is easy

Well...five of my books are back up on Amazon but not RIHC6v1 in paperback.  And while the three Kindles are back, there's no pricing information on HTRASG or RIHC6v1 so you can't buy them.  I guess I just need to keep pointing out the problems and eventually they'll get fixed...but it IS irritating.  Still it's better than being banned completely.  I keep telling myself.

I got the contract and PDF for proofing of "Bobby Carapisi, volume 3" today.  I've already gone over some of it and found one typo.  And I had an odd moment where I was reading it as if it were someone else's writing.  I'll get it done this weekend and ready to be finished.  Unfortunately, this set doesn't sell very well, and it's the one I'm -- well, not that I'm proudest of but that means the most to me.  Well...now I can feel I've done right by all the characters in it, by at least getting their stories out there and available to share, all in one continuous set.  Now it can be let rest.

I'm fuzzy-brained, right now, after going over all this stuff.  TGIF.

Waiting...waiting...

Seems I've spent my whole life waiting.  Waiting to hear what my schedule will be fore the next four weeks.  Whether or not I'll be in NYC packing books.  When I'm headed to California for either the Pasadena Book Fair or San Francisco.  When I'll get all my feedback back so I can get to work on draft 3 of LD.  If Amazon's really going to republish my books like they said they were.  Will I ever make money at this writing crap?  On and on and on.  And it wears on you.

So I worked more on "Crazy Is" -- and it's back to being a scream, again, albeit in a weird way.  I now have 5600 words and no idea how long it's going to be.  One character -- the ex-con -- has softened himself at the beginning but now is back to being spooky.  His interrogator presented herself as one thing and now might be another, but has yet to be truthful and honest about anything she's done or said.  And this one is going to mess with gender identity.  A lot.  And the hell with how sex has been politicized.

I watched the rest of "Pornography, a Thriller" and somebody needed to be told that to carry off a David Lynch style film, you at least need some style like David Lynch.  And understanding.  This movie violated its own truth so many times in so many ways, it was like someone just wrote a bunch of scenes, chucked them into a blender and formed that into a screenplay, and don't worry about connecting anything because obscurity is our friend.

To me the purest example of dishonesty in a movie is when someone is being chased and attacked.  If the victim just presses back against a wall and lets the attacker come up to them and grab them and then somehow be able to stick a needle into them and inject some kind of drug and all that crap -- it's bullshit. It's the truest revelation that the filmmaker is lazy or just doesn't care.

There's nothing new or unusual about this sort of stupid moment.  I remember seeing "The Spiral Staircase" on TV years ago, about a girl driven mute by a tragedy who's being stalked by a serial killer.  It was made in 1946 and has Ethyl Barrymore and Dorothy Malone in it and nice big production values, but early on the movie lost me because when one girl is strangled, she holds her hands up in a beautiful pose that is backlit and elegant and meaningful and nonsense.  She'd fight like a maniac as she's being choked to death.  But that's not pretty and way too real.

The same thing goes for gun violence.  On TV and in movies, the hero fires one shot from his pistol and kills the bad guy, and people think pistols are really that accurate.  They aren't.  Rifles are, but pistols can send bullets all over the place.  That's why so many innocent bystanders get killed in drive-bys and why some maniac firing 30 bullets into a crowd only hits half his targets even though he's in the middle of the crowd.

Hmm...weird rant going on here.  I think I need to shower, shave and go to bed.  And dream of sugarplums that look like Chris Evans.  And get past a part of "Crazy Is" where the ex-con talks about just wanting to be with someone for a little bit.  Someone who'll have his back and he can feel safe with. It's affecting me weirdly, this story.

Say...Brendan...is this feeling of need a test run for Evangelyne?

"Crazy Is"

Shifting slightly in tone and timbre, to my surprise.  I had a bit of a narrative prologue to set up the story, but that changed to all dialog, too, and suddenly it's not just a scream, anymore, but a keening and a siren's call and a whisper in the shadows.  I'm up over 4300 words with no real structure for to what's coming out.  It's so much like the back and forth between two people who don't trust each other, one of whom is being duplicitous as the other shifts his stance every few moments to reflect his distrust of his partner in this dance.  They don't even have names, so far, nor do they seem to want them.  Very odd, for me.

Thinking about it, I don't even have an image of how they look in my head.  Both are like quick, indicative sketches that maneuver about each other in ways that seem human but only barely.  I wonder what I'm saying here, not having the distinction of observation?  I wonder if the whole point is that it should be like you're in a restaurant and you overheard two people talking at a nearby table but you have no concept of what they mean or intend even as the conversation grows deeper and more intense and a bit scary.  You can't see whose voices they are; your vision is obscured.  And it takes everything you have to figure out what is really happening even as you think, "I shouldn't be listening in on this; it's impolite."

I wonder if this story is being told by ghosts...

First crack in the silence

I got a response from Amazon, today...and they say they're putting my books back up.  That me sending them snippets of the books and telling them what the stories are about (and just plain not shutting up like so many people told me to on the blogs I visited) gave them the excuse they needed to reverse their decision.  I'm leery of believing it until everything's back online...but the fact is, they did say they would.  And now I'll just wait and see before I do any more screaming.

I am pretty battered by this whole business, however.  This one thread I was invited to join in on to discuss my books being banned turned into a nasty back and forth, with many of the posters telling me Amazon could do as it liked and I hadn't been really harmed by it and even accusing me of making up the entire situation to try and get sales for my books and that I was stupid for putting those titles on them and I really was nothing but a pornographer.  Without specifically saying so (for the most part), I was made out to be a liar, idiot, whiny baby, naive fool, asshole and all-around manipulative jerk.  Some people agreed with me but the anti-Kyle crowd was louder.  And now the thread's been shut down due to "personal attacks."

The internet is great because it gives you access to anything you want.  Information, ideas, images, individuals you'd never be able to meet in your lifetime.  But it also is vile because it provides anonymity and that destroys civility.  I won't say I've been innocent of being uncivil; on more than one occasion I snapped back at those who snapped at me.  What I will say is I do not do the anonymous commenter crap.  I own my comments.  Sometimes it's hard to do, but I will not lower myself to the level of a cockroach and scurry into the woodwork when a light is shined on me.

So now I'm tired.  My scream of a story is closing in on 4000 words and it's all dialog between two people...and I don't know why it's like that, but that's how it's coming out.  And you want to hear the title?  "Crazy Is."  Does that make one damn bit of sense to anybody?

Oh.  Wait.  Maybe it does, considering I'm the one doing the writing.

'Nuff said.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/10/opinion/10krugman.html?_r=1&partner=rssnyt&emc=rss

Interesting day of journeys begun...

Wherein, I set out to write a nice little story about a boy on a scout camping trip who says just the wrong thing near just the wrong person and winds up being kicked out of the the troop.  Got a fair bit done, too -- about 1400 words.

But as can sometimes happen (more and more, lately) a newer, angrier story popped up and took me by the throat and lead into my fury over Gabrielle Giffords' shooting.  And today I worked on it more and have 2800 words.  When the muse screams in your ear, you pay attention.  I will not be posting this story on here in any way, form or fashion; I've given it full free rein and it's very dark and brutal.  Sort of a way to spew steam, especially since the so-called liberal media is swallowing the right-wing-nuts' myth about the shooting -- that Democrats and Liberals were just as nasty as they were.  And never mind you have Sean Hannity, Glenn Beck, Rush Limbaugh, Bill O'Reilly and every person on Fox News spewing lies and made up facts, daily, and using everything they can to keep people afraid and listening to their hate, two years ago MoveOn.org made up a campaign using Hitler images, and that shows the left is just as bad.

And I'm getting pissed, again.  Time to let off more steam on my laptop.

Oh, I tried to watch my John Waters-style movie about porn...but the disk stopped about halfway and wouldn't start up, again.  So I'm getting a replacement...because I want to figure out what the hell the damn movie's about.  If it's one of those movie within a movie within a man's mind kind of things.  I mean, some of the script is really good but most of it is dumb and violates its own truth.  And the acting is VERY uneven.  Which is sad.

Maybe I ought to just go get copies of "Pink Flamingoes" and "Female Trouble" and get my Waters fix that way, 'cause "Pornography: A Thriller" takes itself WAY too seriously.  I did like "Serial Mom" and "Hairspray."  Haven't seen "Lust in the Dust."  I guess I'll rearrange my queue on Netflix.

Democratic Congresswoman Shot (Assassinated?) In Arizona

It MIGHT just be a case of domestic abuse gone wrong She was targeted by a right wing nut and six people died, including a 9 year old girl...but I'll still bet Glenn, Bill and Sean are giving each other high-fives, right now, and the Tea-Party's sending out e-mails of happiness and glee.

http://www.cnn.com/2011/CRIME/01/08/arizona.shooting/index.html?hpt=T1&iref=BN1

Can't wait to hear the hypocritical comments that spew out of the GOP.  They ALL ginned up this atmosphere of hate and paranoia about Democrats, so I hope they ALL burn in hell.

MORE:
 This is the guy who was arrested --

MySpace has taken it down, apparently.  I watched one of his YouTube videos, and I think the little creep's going to plead insanity.

Boehner's already whimpering the usual "can't we all just get along" BS that comes out after the GOP's rhetoric catches up to them.

And Sarah Palin's already taken down her hit list, which had Rep. Giffords' name on it with a bullseye.

I'm so sickened by this, I can't even think straight...or maybe I should change that phrase to "...think queer".  Since I ain't straight.

UPDATE:

I wasn't far wrong; the haters are blaming the shooting on liberals.  One asshole even posted a comment on KGUN (talk about inappropriate) that swore nothing but liberals and Democrats commit assassinations.  Diseased is the only word for this scum.

Next step in my fight against Amazon

I've set up links on a couple of blogs and sites, leading to their Barnes & Noble pages.  I've already noticed them selling.  Nothing fantastic, yet, but it's a beginning.

I also sent Amazon another e-mail, asking them if they're really planning to just ignore me.  They may not respond, but I'm not shutting up, yet, either.

I made enchiladas this evening, with Spanish rice and refried beans, and I now feel fat and sassy.  Probably put on all the weight I lost in the last month...but I don't care.  It's not like I'm going looking for love.

Tomorrow is sleeping in late and beginning my short story.

I've gotten feedback from a couple people on LD and so far the consensus is the opening doesn't do its job in grabbing them and making this a "must read."  Valid point.  Let's see what others have to say.

Now I'm going to watch a movie called "Pornography, A Thriller."  It was highly recommended by a site I go to -- Billy Loves Stu, which is all about horror movies and the gay undertones in them.  Besides, with a title like that, it has to be camp and I feel like something in the John Waters vein, right now.  Hope it lives up to my expectations.

When you look like Adam Levine...

...you can get away with this kind of stuff.

I know this is not my usual sort of commentary, lately, but I saw this picture the other day and I've been obsessing over it ever since.  I mean, I like "Maroon 5" -- albeit not as much as "Depeche Mode" -- but Adam always came across as a self-centered ego en route to arrogance.  Now?  I feel my inner superficial twit coming to the fore and all I can think of is, "He is so fucking gorgeous."

Damn, rich, young, beautiful, talented -- I hate him.  But not enough to silence my inner twit...or ever ignore him, again.  I guess I should be happy to know I can be just as shallow as anyone else.

And oh what I wouldn't give to be shallow with him.

'Nuff said.

As for Amazon...the word spreads.  http://www.bnet.com/blog/technology-business/amazon-continues-to-censor-titles-but-won-8217t-say-why/7639  And their silence continues.

I'm feeling weird...and I know it's because I'm not writing on any of my books.  I'm waiting to hear from the people I've given LD to for feedback so don't want to begin on POS, yet.  And the withdrawal is making me crazy.  Maybe I'll do a short piece and post that, or something.  With Adam Levine as the central character.  Hmm...maybe not.  I've already been accused of being a pornographer, once; don't want to add slash writer to it...unless I could work Zachary Quinto's Spock into the mix.  Hmm............

Oh, man...I can be so warped, at times.

Uh-oh...gotta get to work...

I just got a kick in the pants from Jake, one of my characters in "Rape In Holding Cell 6."  He wants to be in a new story, especially now that the bastards at Amazon won't sell the books he's in (tho' BN.com does).  And he gave me a strong indication as to what that story will be.  And I'm starting to get nervous about my goals.

I want to do one more draft of "The Lyons' Den" once I get feedback from some people I asked to read it.  Got one guy's, so far, and he made an interesting point that may need to be addressed.  Which will make it a more intense job than I thought...but I like Daniel and Van and want to do right by them.  So that's next on the agenda.

Then comes a full first draft of "Place of Safety."  I've been a wimp and weasel as regards that story, and it's time to end the wishy-washiness.  Brendan's ready, and I know how to add more humor and fun to the story, even as it grows darker and darker.

I'm finally passing my pissed-off stage concerning Amazon and have contacted the ACLU about the issue to see what they think.  I've had a number of people on various blogs CONTINUE to point out Amazon's a private company (not exactly; it's sold in the NYSE so has a different standard it must follow from a privately held company) and can carry or not carry my books as they wish, with only a few agreeing with me about how wrong this is.  So much for a ground-swell of support against the company's censorship.  I guess having a Kindle is more important than having access to all the books ever printed.

I've stung Amazon by getting people to shift to Nooks and close their accounts, and by my own purchase of several books through Barnes & Noble, but it wasn't badly enough to matter, really.  Not gonna give up, but this has been taking too much time and focus...and the fact is, I can send people to BN.com to buy my books.  So we'll see what happens over the next couple weeks.

I did learn from an attorney friend if I want to file a lawsuit against that reporter, I'd have to do it in Seattle.  Meaning I'd have to find a lawyer there who'd be willing to take the case on.  Irritating but still a possibility.

Besides, I may be working in New York City for a month and will barely have time to do any writing let alone fighting.  Then comes the California Book Fair and more travel.

My brain needs a vacation.  Didn't get one in San Antonio.

One last note -- the new version of "Huckleberry Finn", cleansed of the "n" word.  It's a desecration of a great work that consistently shows how vile and stupid and ill-conceived that word was, but apparently modern Americans are incapable of understanding that.  So it's been replaced with the word "slave."

Americans are fucking stupid.

Snow...

And lots of it.  I've shoveled my car out from under it twice, today.  I'd take a photo of it but my camera vanished into some JetBlue employee's pocket and I can't afford to buy a new one, yet.  I've got to get ready for taxes.

I've been having fun with a forum thread on this site -- http://www.mobileread.com/ -- as regards censorship and Amazon's dropping my books.  After some back and forth with people who say Amazon's a private company and can do as it likes (which is true, to an extent) I finally realized the anti-me people think I self-published my books, and I didn't.  Amazon had an agreement with The Nazca Plains Corporation, which is different from me as an individual writer having an account and posting the books on my own.  To be honest, I don't know what that agreement or contract or whatever it's called actually says (Amazon only provides the self-published one), but the info people're using to try and slap me down is wrong.

My books were published in trade paperback for years.  They've been available in stores (I've seen them on bookshelves at Different Light in San Francisco and Los Angeles).  You can get them through Barnes & Noble; Amazon does not have an exclusive on them.  I have hard copies of the books.  So that changes the game.  I wonder if the people I'm in contact with at Amazon realize that?


Nothing more to say.  My sinuses are acting up thanks to the cold weather.  I'm off for tea.

Wicked little characters

So I'm still taking time off from writing and trying to get my house in order (literally; I rearranged my apartment because I needed to find space for 35 boxes of papers and books coming from San Antonio) and I'm driving along to the freight company to pick up my second load of boxes when, just as I'm slipping onto the freeway, who should pop up but Gretta (a character from "The Lyons' Den") with this hysterical idea for her background.  Well, since I'm still an old-fashioned writer who still keeps paper and pen around so he can scribble ideas down, I grab a sheet and am writing her comments in the worst scrawl imaginable as I'm clipping down the road at 65 (speed limit's 55).  And I'm laughing.  And it's trying to snow.  And traffic is caught in that ludicrous mix of people screaming along at 80 while an ungodly number of older folks are toodling down the road at 40.  So for a moment I feel like I'm playing dodge-ball with 2-ton vehicles on my left, right, back and front.

I think I wound up with a couple of more "blond" hairs.  And now Gretta was laughing.  The bitch.

BUT...once I got off the freeway and got my last set of boxes and had a chance to pause and reflect and look at what I'd written...I got to laughing, again.  Gretta's an off-beat con-woman-floozy-slut in the book (and play and script) but now her actions make sense to me.  And she did it in such a way as to make me look like a crazed fool.  I'm sure the guy at the freight company thought I'd been run out of Texas on a rail for psychosis, or something like that.

Ah, the joy of writing.  It's best to live alone because that way no one's around to question your sanity...except in your own mind.

More on Amazon and how two-faced they are

This interview with the director of content at Amazon's Kindle was published on December 29th.  Check out his answer to the first question and consider that Amazon is doing the EXACT opposite.

http://www.latimes.com/business/la-fi-amazon-kindle-qanda-20101229,0,3286073.story

If he didn't know that when the interview took place, then he's incompetent...at best.  I've already fired off an e-mail to the reporter informing him of Amazon's actions (not just in the US but also the UK) and linking him to the other sites ranting about this.  They're listed below, if anyone wants to follow them.

Of course, it IS true that Amazon has the right to sell or not sell anything it wants.  BUT...then they shouldn't say they want to have "EVERY BOOK EVER PRINTED, IN PRINT OR OUT, AVAILABLE (on Kindle)".  "How To Rape A Straight Guy" was made available through them back in September of 2007 and they've sold hundreds (if not thousands; I haven't had an update on the actual sales, yet) of copies.  "Rape in holding Cell 6" was on for over a year.  And not once did they contact me or the publisher for a response before de-listing them and basically telling us to fuck off.

Which means...I DO have the right to bitch, gripe and complain about ill treatment at their hands.  And I'm gonna.

And folks, if you want to comment on this, own it.  Nothing anonymous will be accepted or even read.  I don't have time for pussy-boiz.

http://yro.slashdot.org/story/10/12/30/0426212/Amazon-Censorship-Expands

http://yro.slashdot.org/story/10/12/15/0153255/Amazon-Taking-Down-Erotica-Removing-From-Kindles

http://xaviercarter.blogspot.com/2010/12/what-are-you-doing-jeff.html?zx=551bcd0def6b21de

http://www.facebook.com/amazoncensors

http://jesscscott.wordpress.com/2010/12/13/jessink-publishing/#comment-946

http://www.amazon.com/tag/kindle/forum/ref=cm_cd_pg_pg1?_encoding=UTF8&cdForum=Fx1D7SY3BVSESG&cdPage=1&cdSort=oldest&cdThread=Tx2QG9BWA19KO4O&displayType=tagsDetail

http://melonfarmers.wordpress.com/category/book-censorship/

http://excessica.com/store/catalog/index.php?cPath=50&osCsid=8bf82313224bb22ddccdc46a70911f84

Home...and no snow

It's all melted.  Seems they had a warm snap up here, while I was in Texas, and now there are flood watches everywhere.  Crazy weather.

I'll deal with Amazon beginning Monday, but something I just recalled.  Paul Krugman, whose blog on economics I follow (but admittedly don't always understand), waxed eloquently about his Kindle.  I wonder if he knows it's now a tool of corporate censorship?  I know 3 people who've decided to get a "Nook" from B&N instead of a Kindle.  I hope I can get more to follow.

And Monday I'm contacting the ACLU to ask their advice about suing Fox News in Seattle (or Amazon) for slander.  They may laugh at me for even thinking it, but I have to at least ask.

And just for the hell of it --

 

For some reason I think this is New Zealand.