I got nuked...

This is the feedback I got from a "professional editor" today. It was deliberately destructive and hurtful without one positive thing to say, but after initially being crushed by it, I'm now pissed as shit. Because my brain finally caught up to my heart and pointed out the person trying to destroy my work don't know jack about anything, as is shown from the first comment.

The title has an apostrophe in it, not a quotation mark.

The following is a cut and paste, including all of their typos.

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THE ALICE '65

By Kyle Michel Sullivan

TITLE

The first thing that bothers me is the title. Is it supposed to contain a singular quotation mark? Rather than spark your readers' interests about the significance of the title, they are going to assume that the cover page contains a typo. And this is the type of discovery that will likely cause them to wonder about other mistakes in your manuscript.

FORMAT/MECHANICS

Using the same logic, I would suggest you scratch that comma clause “that Monday” in the first sentence. I understand that you incorporate into the text to specify the significance of events happening to Adam “that Monday”. But the commas guarding those two words throw your reader off. Is it necessary for your readers to break from their accelerating rate of reading in order to reflect that the story begins “that Monday”?

Regarding the overall application of commas in your narrative, there are a few inconsistencies that may bother most publishers. Because of the loquacious (and very British) narrative tone, there are many commas inserted into the text. While this does help the reader ease into this narrative style, it can be easy to put commas where they are not even needed. For instance, the narrator refers to an incidental detail regarding Adam's rugby injury: “as he rubbed a scrape on his chin, evidence of a rough rugby match with his mates, on Saturday” (pg. 5). That final comma bothers me because it is signifying incidental information within an incidental cause, which affects the tone and rhythm of narration. Another example of tone that is disrupted because of comma intrusion is Hakim's threatening remark: “The provenance better be right, this time” (pg. 10). Because of that punctuated hesitation, his demeanor instantly becomes less direct and more timid. Other stray observations regarding the overuse of commas:

• “he said, in German” (pg. 10).

• “and now the book had arrived, for consideration” (pg. 11).

• “for her to see what was blantantly obvious, to him” (pg. 12).

• “if a copy of the book had been offered, that year” (pg. 16).

• “to change it would be prohibitive, in cost” (pg. 26).

And so forth. As you can see, this is a frequent and pervalent characteristic of your storytelling that continuously affects the rhythm of your narrative.

Be sure to avoid run-on sentences as well. Not only are they grammatically incorrect, but they also personify your narrator as a rambling storyteller. For example: “Still, if the book he needed was down there he'd have no trouble proving his concerns about the Schedel, now he'd look inside her, so he yanked the lift's door and gate open and -” (pg. 13). In addition to be a grammatical nightmare, run-on sentences clutter the overall text with too many incidental phrases and misdirected thoughts. Be careful about them or else your narrator will start sounding like someone who has a problematic manner of telling stories.

A good editing technique that is particularly hard on novelists is reading the script aloud, ideally with an objective friend who has never read the story. This is a good way to check for overlong sentences and awkward phrasing. It also causes writers to check for misplaced or forgotten words such as “the Marshe-Crotons had done carry-on so (they) lent him . . .” (pg. 33). An example of a sentence that simply reads too long occurs at the end of page 88. It may not technically be a run-on sentence since there is only one subject and verb. But it does read so long that it becomes somewhat exhausting by the time the reader reaches the end of it. Awkward phrasing and faulty syntax are also easier to spot when read aloud: “He looked around to find there did used to be a phone, outside, but now the apparatus to hold it was empty” (pg. 138). It may not seem like bad syntax but consider how much clearer it reads as: “He looked around to find that there once was a phone outside, but now the space was vacant.” Again, it is usually best to avoid repetitive use of commas if it can be avoided.

Ironically, there are several instances when commas should be implemented, but are strangely absent: “Naturally(,) a maniac waiting on the inside lane . . .” (pg. 149).

COMPOSITION

The first reference of David, Adam's “snarly punk” older brother” is a bit messy and fumbled. It makes its way to the narration because of a punk couple sitting next to Adam on the flight to LA, which turns David into a passive and indirect character. If his personality and history are meant to have a lasting impression on your main character, then it feels as if he should have a more dynamic introduction.

Casey's explanation that her motivation for Adam's arrival to Los Angeles is hard to believe from the very start. She explains that he needs an escort for her big Hollywood premiere, even though her previous adaptation made “a billion bucks”. This premise is further complicated that Casey, a purported rising and established star in Hollywood, resorts to her own mother as her sole adviser and business manager. But there are so many improbable ironies that are presented once Casey reveals her true reason for requiring Adam's presence in LA. Why him? Why go all the way to England to provide an escort for a famous Hollywood actress? Why all the secrecy? Why didn't Vincent tell Adam? If this scenario was not the main motivator for Casey, then the readers may be willing to overlook this premise as fairy-tale fiction. But they will probably not be able to relate to the Cinderalla-based format in which a nebbish book collector is randomly selected to attend a Hollywood ball. The fact that Lando and Tito exist in the story as threats to Casey make it seem even more implausible that she doesn't have bodyguards or security detail.

The instant romantic connection between Casey and Adam seemingly becomes more improbable as the story progresses. It's problematic because it's a fish-out-of-water character study where the readers get to know more and more about Adam, but Casey remains a mystery. There is no explanation for her improbable infatuation with Adam partly because she is an established thrill seeker; and he is introduced to the readers as the complete opposite. True, he undergoes an almost instantaneous metamorphosis, accelerated by the drugs, alcohol, and thrill of fame. But, their union is too brief to believe her when she says, “He's unlike anyone I've ever been with.” The longer the readers get to Casey, the less likely it seems that she would choose someone like Adam to fan the flames of jealousy in Lando's direction.

The story tries very hard to get the readers to empathize with Adam, especially when he discovers that Casey still has feelings for Lando. But the drama in this sequence is damaged by the incessant bickering between Adam, Lando, and Veronica. Instead of betrayal, the readers are once again annoyed at Lando's simple-minded candor and mystified by Casey's ambivalence. If we are meant to empathize with Adam, then he should act as we would in such circumstances. Why doesn't he accuse Casey of her manipulation? Why does he even care about Lando's moral insensitivity? Adam's backstory is also in need of considerable development. The narration briefly references his family members from time to time, but you should not expect the readers to absorb any of this information unless it can be significantly developed. They are not going to remember that Nora dismissed him from her life, or that Connor nicknamed him “hobbit”, or the aftermath of his father's death. Those stories are not illustrated as significant plot events because they are only casually mentioned in the narration. In order for the readers to feel the pain and alienation of such incidents, it would help if the readers could experience them firsthand. For example, we all know how bad it hurts when someone else enables our affection and kisses somebody else. Therefore, we can actually empathize with Adam when he witnesses Casey and Lando making out. However, that sentiment is vanquished when he starts criticizing Lando's name and literacy. Who would resort to such trivial matters when there are matters of heartache and betrayal at hand?

DIALOGUE

“The Alice 65” is a dialogue-heavy concept. There is very little physical action moving the plot forward, so the composition relies heavily on character exposition and dialogue. As any fan of Woody Allen can tell you, the characters become much more interesting when they have interesting things to say. And if they don't have interesting things to say, then at least they should have an interesting way to say it. In order to make Casey, Adam, and Lando (as well as any other speaking character) more colorful, then you should resist conversation that features small talk (“So how long you known Case?”). Pleasant conversation in general tends to lead to awfully banal dialogue (“I'm so happy you're happy”) that fails to develop or evolve the speaking character.

Perhaps the most dreaded expression to cross a publisher's eyes is the acronym “OMG”. It's become a staple in English language thanks to its frequent usage in text conversations and social media. But are the readers supposed to imagine the characters actually saying, “O-M-G”? Or is it just meant to be an abbreviaiton for “Oh My God” (which seems the much more likely spoken sentiment)? In either case, “OMG” confuses the hell out of publishers, scriptreaders, and producers alike. I'd recommend picking a different exclamatory remark.

SUMMARY

Regarding the plotline and overall story structure, my best recommendation is to revise your premise so that it is not so hard to imagine or conceive. Since this book is formatted as a romantic comedy, it is very important that the readers believe in these characters and premise. Action-oriented stories exist on the strength of the drama and action residing within the conflict. But character-centered stories require a more intimate relationship between the characters and readers. If the readers doubt Casey's personality or reasons for entrapping Adam as her premiere date, then they will have trouble accepting her dialogue and actions throughout the entire novel. And since she is supposed to be an A-list celebrity, there are several conventions regarding her background that need to be explained. Why doesn't she have a publicist or agent forcing her to date another movie star? She briefly mentions that her date had to be a low-key personality, but that doesn't explain why she picked a nebbish British bookworm like Adam. Why does Orisi, who certainly revels in dressing his celebrities, seem to be okay with this? If he was truly a professional costume designer, he would be aghast at dressing people who cannot afford the cleaning bills. It may seem like a tedious complaint, but it becomes increasingly important as the plot progresses and the characters become more developed. The readers may be getting to know them better, but without a plausible premise, the story immensely suffers.

One idea is to incorporate some information into Casey's backstory so the readers can understand her reasons for choosing Adam, whom she never even met before coming to America. Her backstory could maybe include a horrific accident with the paparazzi. She was mentally scarred by the incident and refuses to let anything happen to anyone who might attract attention. This would explain why she chose an unknown like Adam instead of the next Bradley Cooper to escort her. It would also explain her virtual absence of a publicity staff. If this idea seems too far-fetched, then try to think of something to explain this highly unusual circumstance.

In summary, this is a feel-good, romantic comedy that could feel a lot better if the main charactes were provided with more developed background to make them more believable. This is especially true for Casey, who exists more as a teasing motivator than any sort of romantic interest. The first half of the novel is especially perplexing because the readers simply will not understand her situation: she is at the zenith of her career, yet she resorts to importing an English book collector to make her former lover and co-star jealous. Since she doesn't know much about her version of “Alice”, the readers are not likely to believe that she really wants to get the book back either. Adam, on the other hand, is presented with much clearer motivation. However, it is hard to take his character seriously since he mostly acts as Comedic Relief, which is typical for most fish-out-of-water comedies. As a result, the reader feels sorry for him rather than admire or respect him.

I think a big reason why it is so hard to relate to the principle characters is that their life events and histories are presented to the readers by way of spoken dialogue rather than a character-building plot event. There is an old saying for scriptwriters: it is much more interesting to watch something happen than it is to hear about it. The same is somewhat true for novelists. If Adam spills his lifestory to Casey, who seems to be the only character able to illicit personal information from him, it is unlikely that the readers retain or absorb much of this material because of its indirect exposition.

Thankfully, there is some long-awaited development awaiting in the second half of the novel. After Adam and Casey are able to expose their personal feelings and histories to eachother, their characters become much more realistic and believable. (However, I still have a problem with the fact that Adam plays rugby but has a fear of swimming. But let's consider that a singular complaint.) The final chapter reveals everything that the readers have been waiting for regarding the subject material. Unfortunately, there is a good chance that you will have lost too many readers by then. In terms of narrative composition, I would suggest revising your story structure so that the readers have a better grasp of Adam's relationship with Nora. For instance, you could play with the story structure so that he dreams about Nora and his Da within the first half of the novel. And if I were you, I would consider finding a way to expose more about the Alice in an earlier chapter. The final chapter exists as a “payoff” chapter in that Adam unveils all of these secrets about her history. Unfortunately, the narrative tone of this informative chapter does not really match the absurdist comedy and romantic ideology of the main storyline. As a result, the material exposed in this concluding chapter is fairly random compared to the rest of the book, which is more about Adam's improbable pairing with the famous Casey than it is about the Alice 65.

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This is what creative people have to deal with every day -- assholes who think that since you didn't create in the way they would have, you didn't do it right. I've had others pull this crap on me, in the past, and I've just blown it off. This one? It's like I got spit on.

Well fuck that shit.

Some from the Houston part of APoS...

This is after Brendan's been caught in a bombing and taken to his Aunt's home in Houston to recuperate. She has 3 kids, 2 girls a boy, Scott, and they live next to River Oaks. Brendan is trying to rebuild his life by doing what he used to do in Derry, fix things. Todd's a bartender at The Colonel's and Brendan's his bar-back.

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Word got around to the neighbors and I’d be asked over to fix a vacuum cleaner or lawn mower -- not by the home-owners, themselves, mind you, but by their maids and gardeners. Then they’d slip me a couple dollars and I’d add that to the pile I was saving. Still I noticed that many would sooner toss lamps and appliances in the dustbin than get them repaired, so I began fetching them out and fixing what I could, myself. I found a second-hand shop on Shepherd where the owner would give me a bit of cash for whatever I brung him, and I’d add that to my pile.

Dunno why I was saving money, except I still had the notion of opening my own repair shop and knew I’d need cash for it. I wasn’t like Uncle Sean, who could borrow from banks or build up investors for his newest venture -- as he was doing with The Colonel’s; my profile would have to remain low because I knew if I was found out, I’d be deported and bring no end of trouble to those who’d helped me.

I wasn’t told this by my aunt and uncle; I pieced it together from things they let slip along with bits mentioned in letters I got from Mairead. As I understand it, Danny got me home -- Colm's name was never raised -- and I was worse than bad off. Blood covered me, one arm hung at my side and I responded to nothing, not even Ma’s fury and slaps, of which there were many. Father Jack and two lads from the IRA showed up within minutes and the initial thought was to say I was caught in the bombing and take me to hospital -- but a Catholic lad hurt in a bomb on the Waterside would have been suspicious, and because I had a medical history at Altnagelvin, I couldn’t say I was Protestant. A doctor sympathetic to the cause was snuck into the house, reset my dislocated shoulder, sewed closed the cuts and bound up three cracked ribs, after which he put me on pills to keep me quiet.

I was snuck across the border in Armagh as Father Jack traveled by the normal route, then he took me to Shannon Airport. Papers had been worked up for a three months medical visa in America and I was ferried to Houston as a charity case the church was taking there for cancer evaluation at a hospital that specialized in it, all under some long-dead lad’s name. Then I was handed over to my aunt and uncle and Father Jack flew home, and not once did immigration raise a question. I got the feeling my status was something we’d simply work out when the time come.

To be honest, I didn’t care if it did, for Aunt Mari’s family helped keep me active. The girls adopted me as their pet and undertook a complete makeover of my wardrobe. I wound up with hip-hugger jeans and cut-offs and boots and sandals and enough Madras button-ups and printed t-shirts to fill a bloody Wellworths, which dented my savings but there were low-cost and second-hand shops around to keep it to a minimum. I wasn’t allowed to cut my hair, but they showed me how to make it smooth and shiny. I could shave the scruff on my face but had to leave what fuzz there was for my moustache -- and after it being so long since I’d put a razor to my cheek, I had enough to claim one. They took me ice-skating in The Galleria and introduced me to MacDonald’s and assured me the football team -- soccer team was as fine as anything in Ireland. On that they exaggerated greatly; the games we attended were pathetic.

As for Scott, he was accepted to university in Austin so was planning for that. And it was decided once he left, I’d take over the pool house and he’d be back to his old room. He was so ready to move on to another city, he didn’t mind.

So I settled into a nice routine. A busy one that kept my mind focused on the now and wouldn’t let it drift into the past. And the flashes of memory faded away and I regained some of the weight I’d lost to the point I felt good enough to walk home after work, some nights, not so much because Todd felt put out by giving me a lift but because he took up with a girl in Jersey Village, which was the opposite direction from me. So on the nights he had a date, I went “shanks mare,” as he put it. And I didn’t mind because invariably I’d find something nice in a dustbin -- no, trash can along the way that I could take on to repair and feel quite the entrepreneur...Uncle Sean’s word, not mine, though I did like the sound of it.

Now sometimes cars would pull up and an older gentlemen inside would ask if I’d like a lift, but I always turned them down. I had no trust of strangers and had a fair idea they weren’t asking me out of the kindness in their hearts. But one warm night this car slowed beside me and there were two lads my age inside, and one called out to me, “Hey, you’re the Irish guy!”

I looked in it and recognized the passenger as having been in the bar a couple times, plus I’d seen him around as I came to work, usually with some older fella. He was shorter and slimmer than even me with longer hair and a ratty little goatee, and his eyes were red...which I knew wasn’t from drinking. The driver was blond, a bit heavier and seemed more interested in the longneck beer he was holding than in any conversation, but what struck me most about him was how his hand shook as he drank from the bottle.

“Howya,” was all I said.

“I’m Wayne,” the passenger said as he offered his hand.

I shook it and, “Bren,” was all I told him.

“Cool. So you’re walking home?”

“It’s not so very far.”

“Want a lift? We’re headed down Shepherd. Going to a party, over at a friend of mine’s in Pasadena.”

“Thanks, but I’m almost there.”

“You sure? You could go to the party with us, man. Dean’s a cool guy; don’t mind you showing up. He’s got shitloads of everything -- beer, whiskey, other stuff.” And he gave the toke sign.

I thought about it. I’d been missing Todd’s joints and had considered asking him to get me some smoke of my own, but I had a revolving fan in hand and didn’t want to give it up, and no way in hell would I ferry that to a party. So I said, “I’m knackered -- uh, beat. Maybe another time.”

“C’mon, man, there’ll be girls there and lots of music and shit. You’ll have shitloads of fun.”

“Thanks. You have it for me.”

As I backed away, I heard the driver say, “Told you. Now let’s check Jack-In-The-Box,” then he drove off.

Something about it struck me odd, but I put it aside and continued home.

I mentioned it to Todd the next night and he snarled, “That’s one dude you wanna keep away from, Bren.”

“You think? Seems right enough.”

“Maybe. I dunno what it is about him, but there’s guys who’ll be all nice and palsy-walsy with you till you’re using their junk -- ”

“Junk?”

“Drugs. They get you hooked, make you a customer and soon you’re going out stealin’ shit or turnin’ tricks for ‘em. I think he’s one.”

“He did offer some stuff.”

“I think that older guy he’s with’s his dealer. They’re connected to a few too many kids who’ve run off from around here and it's just -- just stay away from him.”

I saw Wayne and his mates around a few more times and he always waved at me and did the toke sign, but I blew him off. A couple months later, his photo and the blond guy’s were plastered all over the paper, and I found out the parties he referred to weren’t for drugs. He was procuring lads for to be raped and killed by his buddy, Dean. Meaning that’s what he’d intended for me at the party he was going to. And it shook me up, how close I’d come to being one of them.

Christ, was I the cat with nine lives, or what?

I wonder why I write some things...

There's an aspect of APoS that troubles me, but it's insistent on being part of the story. Brendan is befriended by a gay man after he and his cousin, Scott, sneak into a gay bar in Houston. They're underage and Brendan's taken aback by it all. It's not long after he's emerged from his catatonic state and he's still a virgin in all aspects of sex. The gay man, Everett, helps him after Scott gets too drunk to drive, and winds up almost treating him like a son.

Everett starts out as sympathetic and gets involved with a friend of Brendan's and Scott's,  Jeremy. Overall I present them sympathetically...but when John Wayne Gacy's murders are revealed in Chicago, Everett becomes fixated on them. He's having a personal crisis and exhibiting signs of illness, plus he and Jeremy have broken up over his growing obsession with not only Gacy but Dean Corll. It's spooking everyone.

When Brendan leaves Houston to return to Derry, Everett helps him but comes close to doing something wrong and only barely holds himself back. It's like he's going through an emotional or mental breakdown...but I don't want him to be seen as emblematic of what gay men are. Yet he's damn well insisting this be his character arc. Shit.

I have Jeremy as the counterpoint -- a nice Jewish kid who's in the closet at work but out to his friends. Who's on the fast track at the oil company he works for. Who's built a relationship with a Cajun Army Sergeant thanks to Brendan being involved with the soldier's sister. So maybe that's enough to keep a balance...

But it bugs me...and this is one of those instances where I don't understand why Everett's character wants his story to play this way. Unless it's to illustrate the destructiveness of forcing people to hide who they are. At this time, it was still illegal in Texas for anyone other than a married man and woman to have sex, and then only in the Missionary position. Everything else was considered sodomy and that could get you sent to jail. The law was rarely enforced, but it was there ready and willing. It wasn't made to apply to just gay men until 1986.

I guess I'll let it play, for now, and see where it takes me...but I wish this wasn't part of the ride.

APoS...

I've been using a facebook page called Derry of the Past to help build a sense of what the town was like when Brendan lived there and how it is when he returns. There are videos and photographs galore, but what's best is all the comments from people who lived there...who recognize places long since redeveloped out of existence...helping center me around the town. It's going slowly but bit by bit I'm getting a feel for what is where.

It's also helping me gain a better sense of how people talk, there. The slang and rhythms of their speech. There are some things I can't do, like let the kids call their mothers Mammy, as so many did and still do in that area. That word's connotations in the US are too poisoned. Besides, Ma is acceptable as commonplace. They also speak of shops and locations that I haven't gotten for books.

And I had a friend of mine, Brad Rushing, turn me on to the Facebook page of a woman who lives in Belfast and went through the Troubles in real time. She talks about being searched when going into shops and into the city center and across the border. Her comments are in response the coming catastrophe of Brexit, comparing how the border was back before the Good Friday Accord and how it is now...and how they do NOT want to go back to a hard border between Northern and Southern Ireland.

It makes some aspects of the story I want to tell a bit more difficult to work out, but overall what I have so far is pretty close to the reality of the time, just a bit too bright and optimistic.

I'm working on that.

Lost weekend...

I'm not sure what's going on inside me, but I did absolutely nothing on APoS, this weekend. I don't know why; I was just...completely unmotivated. Couldn't even get started reading on any of the books I have for it.

Next weekend's going to be pretty much a bust, as well, since I'm headed down to Miami for the Map Fair. And the weekend of the 16th I'm flying to the UK for a packing job. Sheesh...I'll be doing dibs and drabs on the story after work, every day, as much as I can...and that ain't much.

I hate it when I get like this...all full of ennui and apathy and shit. It's absurd...and yet, as an artist I'm sure it's the normal ebbs and flows of live's creative juices lost in the neverending ethernet of existence.

I should use that comment somewhere, it's so silly.

I did finally finish working up another website for my adult material...and by adult I mean not suitable for under 18. Hell, considering how insane people are getting, these days, it may also not be suitable for anyone over the age of forty. So damn many people seem to think it's their right to force their version of morality down your throat.

I'm still getting notices from Tumblr about "adult content" on my thread, there. I've gotten to where I ask for a review just to be an asshole. Rub their noses in it. For all the good that'll do. It's only for a few more days. I've been in contact with the people whose work I like -- like PickedAPeck's and ZanVarin's and WereOrc's artwork -- and let them know. And I can check two of them out on Deviant Art. I'm sorry to lose the close contact but it's that or kiss Tumblr's ass...

Tonight I watched the SAG Awards as I ironed. I haven't seen a one of the shows that won...or even were nominated. It was just fun watching the congratulatory comments going around and remembering that the first SAG Awards was only 25 years ago...about the time I moved to LA.

I had hopes and wishes and dreams, then.

Odd moments in my head...

I can get images caught in my mind without conscious effort...and sometimes they pop up for no particular reason...maybe just to nudge me towards some idea or other. But just a moment ago I remembered a beautifully composed shot from 1934's The Scarlet Pimpernel. It stars Leslie Howard and Merl Oberon and really isn't very good; it meanders and some very important scenes happen off-screen, violating all the rules of storytelling.

It's set during the worst of the French Revolution, as anyone who even seemed to support the aristocracy was being guillotined. A number of people are awaiting their fate, something presaged by a man appearing at the door and calling out a few names. In the middle of all this is a beautifully dressed woman calmly reading a book as if in a sitting room, her image like that of a painting by Gainsborough...until her name is called. She calmly slips in a bookmark to keep her place as if she's going to return and finish it...then heads off to her death.

I think this is what gave me the idea to jolt Devlin into finally feeling empathy for the fate of another human being he didn't even know, in Underground Guy. Liam Hanlon, one of the killer's victims, has been dead for weeks when Devlin finally sees a video of him exiting a tube station in London and happily popping some gum in his mouth, just like Devlin had done a thousand times when en route to an important meeting. But Devlin knows he's heading to his death...and he connects with the doomed man and it shatters him.

There are other images I get caught up in, sometimes...images that might be silently influencing me in my storytelling. I almost think the moment when Jamie, in Empire of the Sun, stands by an airfield in China near the end of WW2, watching Kamikaze pilots prepare to take off, and begins to sing a Latin hymn in honor of the young man about to die is influencing me with Brendan, in a way. Jaime's a prisoner of war, cut off from his parents, his childhood destroyed but not his sense of honor and respect.

Brendan is caught in a similar whirlpool slowly dragging him down to who knows what as he fights to keep his sense of self...his equilibrium...while his world devolves into chaos. It's like evil dances around him, hinting at what's to come but not taking the final step to try and crush him until he decides to leave it. Then, like a jealous possessive lover, it crushes him.

I still don't know exactly what it is I'm trying to say with this book. I may never know. Hell, I'm not even sure what style it will take...what form...because it's not sitting quiet within me, anymore. It's searching and pushing and wondering and wandering and testing...

...and waiting for me to finish the foundation so we can begin the act of building...

Why You Should Read Bad Books...

I stole this from Books & Such Literary Management's blog...and it's still true...

Blogger: Janet Kobobel Grant
While we readers are constantly on the hunt for the penultimate book that satisfies to the core, we spend a lot of time reading books of a lesser nature. I wonder if we’re garnering as much benefit from such books as we could.

The book club I’m a part of has taught me that sometimes books I think I won’t like surprise me. I’ll stick with a book longer if it’s a club pick out of loyalty to the club as well as because I feel a responsibility to explain to the group why I didn’t like the book. I contend you should read bad books to learn good writing techniques.

Taking the time to think about why you would label a book as bad can offer insights into what makes a book good. You might find yourself thinking,

It was so hard to get into
There wasn’t enough dialogue
It was nothing but dialogue
I didn’t like the protagonist
The ending was disappointing
The plot was unbelievable
The research was inadequate
The writing was flat
The structure never made sense to me
It didn’t move fast enough
The middle slumped

All of these observations are your first step to benefiting from reading a book:

Step 1: Analyze what was wrong with the book.

Step 2: Ask yourself, How could the author have fixed the problem(s)?

One title we read in our book club was Gone Girl. Several members thought the ending was all wrong. Of course they didn’t like; it’s not a likeable ending.

But I asked them how they would suggest it end. They had a long list of ideas, which, we realized as we took a hard look at each one, would have been the wrong ending for this book. By the time we finished debating, everyone reluctantly agreed that the ending the author chose was just right. But we all learned a lot as we looked at the possibilities rather than just proclaiming it “wrong.”

Step 3: Apply your findings to your own writing. Might a reader end up complaining about the same flaws in your WIP that you found in the bad book?

Go through the analysis steps with your manuscript, asking yourself such questions as, Is my ending right? Why or why not? What else could it be? How are readers likely to view it? and on down through the list of possible missteps.

"The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo"

I finished the book...and while it was interesting it drove me nuts. I don't know why, but I didn't buy into the characters or story, not completely. All I wanted to know was how it turned out...and I was not impressed. Let down, actually.

Stieg Larsson had two completely different stories going, here, as if he didn't trust either one on its own. One's a mystery about the disappearance of 16 year old Harriet Vanger in 1966, more than three decades prior to when the story's set; the other is about a journalist falsely convicted of libel who fights to regain his reputation. Either one could have been a book unto itself...which they wanted to be, because they certainly didn't like being connected in what was a very weak, dubious fashion.

I think that's what really set my opinion building regarding this book -- the feeling that these two stories were quietly trapped in a structure not of their making and yet not paid enough attention to make it worth their while. Instead, there was a lot of repetition of plot points, brand name referencing, extraneous details that added nothing, and half-hearted attempts at psychological depth.

Maybe it's the translation from Swedish, but I didn't care about any of the characters, not really. Mikael Blomkvist was like a series of note tags strung together, not a person. Journalist. Ethical. Attractive to women. Trustworthy. Sexually casual. That he's also a bit stupid at times...or maybe just obtuse...I doubt was intended to be one of those note cards, but he is.

Lisbeth Salander is a cipher, not a human being. She has maybe half the number of note cards as Mikael and never really works in the story except in the typical hacker-who-can-get-any-info-you-want-at-just-the-right-time sort of Hollywood nonsense. What's more...she's a real cunt. I get why but there's nothing to temper that or make her someone you worry about.

The other characters are handled the same way, and what one character is revealed to have done actually struck me as ludicrous. I know I don't have a lot of room to make these criticisms, considering some of my work, so I may be bitching about what I fear my own work shows. I don't know. I do know I want to watch the movie specifically to see how they handled one scene where Mikael is almost killed. My feeling is, they won't do it like it is in the book.

Which means it might work.

Heading home...

Straight into 3 feet of snow, as I understand. But I'm in Atlanta waitin' on a plane and it looks like we'll be on time. Delta's doing a lot better this direction than when I was heading down to Bermuda.

I really don't like that place. It's all very casual and easy, and they don't follow any schedule but their own. I arranged to have the books picked up between 9 and 11am and got there 15 minutes early to get things ready...and they were already there. Fortunately, they hadn't knocked on the front door, yet, so I get the owner ready and we were done and gone in half an hour. That was good, at least.

Shuttle to the airport was set for 1:45 so I'm working on my laptop in the hotel waiting area and at 1:30m I'm told they're waiting on  me. In the middle of an email I had to send. Irritating. Then the flight to Atlanta left 20 minutes early. It's crazy.

I'm whining, I know, but when I'm working with a schedule and want to get a certain number of things done, having someone else mess with it throws me off. Doesn't help the resort I stayed at had nothing else around in the way of restaurants so I'm pretty much stuck eating second rate overpriced hotel food.

Bitching done. I'm not using my laptop on the flights but reading Stieg Larsson's The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo...and I was worried about repeating myself in my writing? Jesus, he notes the same details over and over and over. And this is a huge bestseller. I'm kicking back on my beef with me.

Good to know about this kind of thing.

Brendan's conversations with me...

I've settled into an interesting pattern with Brendan while working on APoS...I read, I ask questions, he gives me a yea or nay...and if I'm unsure, we discuss. The current one was me asking him if he believed in God. He's a Catholic boy raised in a household that is devoutly Catholic, but his immediate response was, "No."

Did he ever believe in God? He's not sure. He believed in the idea of him, but more by rote than faith. He points out he never became an altar boy and always kept his distance from the priests. Even at the age of 10, when kids are still caught up in the same rituals their parents follow, he's doing religion by the numbers.

The discussion evolved into how Danny, one of Brendan's best friends, was a strong believer and an altar boy and everything, but he lost it all and has been searching for something to replace the emptiness he feels. He finds it in the idea of chaos, and becomes part of PIRA in order to further that end.

Man...I love having moments like this. I feel like I'm back in touch with Brendan, completely, and we're going somewhere with the story. Not fast; I don't want to screw this up by pushing too hard. I've assigned all of this year to it so even if I do finish a first draft it'll be reworked and redone and restructured until it's good enough to actually call it a first draft.

I'm not a quick writer. I'm not good when I push too hard; I wind up going the easy route. If I let the ideas and details come to me in their own time, then I know all will be well. If I keep working on the story, I know I'll find ways to tell things that sound true and interesting.

As I packed the last of the books, today...and this was the hardest part because it included a huge Johnson's Dictionary...I thought of A65 and how much better the book is than the script I initially wrote. I pushed a bit too much on that one and what came out was surface and adequate. By digging into the story to put it into novel form, it took on a whole new life to where it's almost a completely different story.

That's my goal for APoS -- something new and alive and captivating and heartbreaking...and I don't aim for much, do I?

Rolling along...

I'm about 2/3 done with the job so should be finished early, tomorrow. There's a marathon running about the island so no idea if I can go anywhere, but we shall see.

I finished reading Peggy Deery, basically a biographical story about the one woman who was shot on Bloody Sunday...and it's a bleak book. She had 14 children before her husband died from cancer, and they lived in dire poverty...except for the times when she was able to finagle money out of the British government for compensation for things like falling in a pothole or being shot by British troops. One son got involved, off and on, with the IRA and was blown up by a bomb he planned to transport. Another died in a bar brawl days before his wedding. It's just one thing after another.

Brendan and I had an interesting conversation about this book...and he doesn't want his life to be that downbeat. Which is a funny thing for him to say. But as he points out, "If I'm living someplace that's falling down about me, I'm not going to stand around and let it." He's good with his hands and just gets down to fixing things, and if it means helping himself to materials being used for redevelopment...his justification is, "They'll throw half of it out, anyway."

I do think I'll use one of his friends...or maybe a couple of them, to contrast with him. Paidrig's family's more like Peggy Deery's as regards the poverty and a house falling down around them. Colm's the sneaky type trying to get away with something while Brendan just does things that need to be done without telling anyone he's doing them and sometimes gets credit and sometimes gets blame. Danny is anger personified and turns his hate into a force against the Protestants and British while Brendan just wants to live his own life.

The more I work on this story, the more I realize Brendan is an anomaly...and yet, it's perfectly clear that while just about everyone in Derry knew someone who'd been killed or jailed during the Troubles, the actual violence only directly touched a small number of the population.

Here's hoping I can keep this from being the kind of book that pities the poor downtrodden of Ireland from the lofty height os those not truly touched by their condition...

Ready for tomorrow...

Got my workspace set up but can't start packing till tomorrow so I hopped over to Hamilton to look around...and t's a rather bland town. Reminds me a bit of Stanley, in Hong Kong.

Especially these steps leading up from the street to...

...Queen Elizabeth Park par la ville, which was fun, with sculptures peeking out at each other.

Then there's Front Street, along the harbor...

...and the Sessions House...

But everything closes down at 5-5:30, except the bars and high-priced restaurants. And I do mean high-priced. Fast-food? Well...I did find a KFC, which I can't eat...but damn, the smell of their biscuits taunted me.

Even the bus is ridiculous -- $4.50 each way. That's nearly twice as much as the NY Subway! And I finally just hunkered down and had that $20 burger...and it was edible. Barely. And the fries were like you get from Or-Ida...

But...that's what happens when you're an island that has to import everything.

I do not like Delta Airlines...

My flight this morning was supposed to leave at 6:40, an hour I hate but I made it okay. But we didn't leave till 8. Problems with the front landing gear. But that's still fine; I've got time to make my connection in Boston. Except when we landed, the front wheels freaked out and the plane had to stop and be towed into the terminal. Which took another half hour. Then I had to run from one terminal to the next and got to my flight for Bermuda just as they had finished boarding...and I still needed a seat assignment; they wouldn't give me one till I was at the gate.

The flight down from Boston was fine. I lucked out with an aisle seat even though the plane was packed. Customs was easy...and very 1970s. The whole terminal here is. I think they're building a new one. The cab driver was nice and told me all of the places I should go, and the hotel is just across an inlet from the airport, so I can see it from my balcony...and hear the planes landing and taking off.

My hotel is nice but on a weird little hill that wanders down to the ocean. This is my view. I have to climb up about the equivalent of four stories to get to the main lobby and dining areas...and they have very strict hours for dining. I arrived at 6:10 to get dinner and was told I'd have to wait till 6:30 for the kitchen to open. But I could have a drink...at $10 a glass.

I headed off to another place and had a really good curry and a Guinness at room temperature! Loved it. There's a bus stop just outside the hotel to take me into Hamilton when I'm done, tomorrow.

Tomorrow is just overseeing the delivery of the packing materials and setting up a work station. The owner of the library isn't here till late so I don't get to start packing till Saturday.

Which is fine by me...

Off to Bermuda...

I'm not looking forward to this job in Bermuda. I like the books I'll be packing -- 17th - 19th Century Irish history and poetry -- but I've never been much for tiny islands and beaches. I got soured on them when we spent my sophomore year in Hawaii and I got second degree sunburn, twice.

There's also the question of whether or not the company I'm dealing with for the packing materials will bring me what I asked for and in usable shape. I've run into that in other countries, where the cartons aren't very well-built. And often their idea of scheduling is minimal, so I'm worried about whether or not these guys will pick up the shipment when I need them to so I can catch my flight home.

But...it's a job and needs to be done. And now I'll be able to say I've been. Woo-hoo.

What's really going to make this fun is the airplane trip. This is a low-cost package deal so first of all it's a 6:40 am flight out of Buffalo, and on top of that I don't get to choose my seats; they're assigned at the gate. So middle row it is. I'm taking a book and not even trying to break out my laptop.

There's also the issue of getting around -- Bermuda don't believe in sidewalks, from what I can tell, so not wandering around by foot. I'll have to find some kind of transportation from the hotel to the house I'm working in. And the food is hellaciously expensive. $22 for a burger and fries? With nothing else around to counter it?

Fortunately it'll only be till Monday.

I need to advertise more...

Apparently there was word going around that HTRASG, PM, RIHC6 and BC were out of print...which surprised me. I saw it in a Facebook group I belong to, so I let them know that wasn't the case and linked to my website...and sold several book in just the 24 hours since I posted it. Who knows how many sales I missed out on?

I'm not sure what kind of advertising I can do to counter this. I've noted on my Facebook pages and in GoodReads that I republished my first four books at a better price. I have a couple of separate pages for not only KMSCB but OT...and A65. I had pages for LD and BC, but they did nothing so ended them.

I used to get some traction from Tumblr, but they've gone all homophobic and freaky over adult content so that's pretty much dead. And Twitter is my political outlet, really. I guess I could start a second one for my books, but I've already got so many things going I don't know if I'd be able to keep up with it all.

So I guess I'll just keep plugging along. I don't want to take too much time from APoS. Right now I'm reading a couple of books that are surprisingly informative, mainly in little asides. Like one noting Springtown, a seriously bad pocket of poverty in Derry, was shut down in 1968. I thought it was still somewhat operational in 1970. I'll have to dig deeper into that because some characters are established as coming from there and I may need to change it.

Another was the astonishing number of children some women had in Derry -- 12 - 15 within a year of each other. And...the astonishing number of miscarriages and stillbirths. And those women are standing in photos with their adult children still upright and sturdy.

My aunt, who converted to Catholicism when she got married, had 7 kids, not counting a still birth and a miscarriage. Much of that's due to the Church's opposition to birth control, and antiquated attitude that is not only stupid but dangerous to the future of the planet.

You can always count on religion to do the wrong thing.

GoDaddy won't go away...

Another hour on the phone with GoDaddy trying to migrate my basic account to ultimate so it's better protected against incorrect viewings...and they tried to charge me another $35.00 to do it, even though I should have been able to do it on my own. I got angry and threatened to shut it all down and get a refund, so they backtracked and I got everything done for the price I paid, and it's good for 3 years.

Damn, that crap pisses me off. Sneaky-assed ways used to get more money out of you while doing all they can to keep you confused as to what they're doing. Like 3-card monte. Not fun. But we'll see how it goes, now, and if it's not working tomorrow, I'm shutting the fucker down. I have no patience with this.

On a lighter note, I got a book I'd ordered from a shop in Derry, Northern Ireland today instead of 4 weeks from now. Shocked me. And it's in good shape, too. It's mostly made up of posed photos of groups of kids and people at events or such, but it does have some images of the civil rights movement, including the family who squatted in Guildhall over demands for better housing. What's even better is it has photos of the Lough Swilly bus depot on Great James and of the barricades on Rossville and William Streets. So it was worth the money.

But I've run my credit cards up, again, and that's not cool. I want them paid down as much as possible so that by the end of the year I can get a card from my credit union at a decent interest rate. I only owe on two of them, but one has a rate of more than 12% and the other is nearly 18%. I hate that. I have another one that I use for business that I pay off every month, which would also happily charge me 18%.

Thursday I head for Bermuda to do a packing job...and damn, that place is pricey. Breakfast at my hotel would be $25 and a friggin' cheeseburger and fries is $23. If I want to dine, that starts at $45. And there's no public transport where I am. I'll have to grab a taxi to get to the house, at $15-20 per trip. I'd walk, but there aren't any sidewalks along that route. Ridiculous. I don't really like the idea of going to Bermuda, but it's to handle an interesting library of Irish history so...

What I AM looking forward to is a week in England, at Reading, packing a huge library of humor and satire. I'll have help for that so maybe I can pack in an extra day or two to wander London.

Ah, the life of a travelin' man...

APoS continues...

I'm currently working on the Battle of the Bogside in August 1969 and the Celebration Fleadh that followed a couple weeks later. It's where Brendan and Joanna finally truly connect, because she's Protestant but sneaks into the festival and is caught out so he has to protect her and get her home. It's an important point in the story...so I'm taking my time with it...

I've brought in new characters, as well, who may turn out to be important, later. I don't know yet. But this is also the point where the IRA was seen as cowardly in the face of what happened, and members broke off to form the Provisional IRA...and Real IRA and on and on. There was no real need for them, at this point, since British troops were seen as protecting Catholics from the Protestants. That didn't start shifting till much later.

It's funny, but with all this talk of a wall along the Mexican border intending to keep out the hoards of illegal immigrants storming up from Central America, it brings to mind how the border between Ireland and Northern Ireland is only about 310 miles long, not nearly 2000 miles. It was heavily guarded by Great Britain, a major military power, and supposedly shut down by non-stop ground and air patrols and guard stations and the like, but it remained as porous as if there were no troops along it, at all.

1240 miles of the US/Mexico border is the Rio Grande, from El Paso to Brownsville. You can't build a wall down the middle of a river, not even one as casual as this one is, so that means building it up off the immediate banks, since those can shift a lot in occasional flooding. Which means the US Government would not only have to seize land from private individuals to build upon, it would effectively be ceding all of the river and a fair portion of Texas back to Mexico. I cannot imagine that going over well in Austin.

The stupidity of the idea that you can even close a border keeps getting proven over and over -- Berlin, The Iron Curtain, the Maginot Line...even the Great Wall of China was not completely effective. It did keep semi-nomadic invaders out, but did not stop some large scale invasions, and even the nomadic people were able to breach the wall from time to time.

The stupidity of humanity is not to be underestimated...

I know nothing...nothing...

Another long session with GoDaddy's tech support and still have to go back to it. I started out trying to change my avatar but couldn't work around its demand I do it through Gravatar, then I quickly learned my WordPress site was NOT set up exactly right, so we dug into that.

Now I've got it done except for one last action -- migrating it from a basic WP site to an ultimate one. That makes certain it's protected from kids and creeps who want to mess with it. I have to do that in a couple days.

Oh, but today's session wore me out...and I wasn't able to focus on anything for too long a time. So no writing done. No reading. Just a wasted day. Not good since I'm going to be traveling a lot over the next six weeks.

First, I'm heading to Bermuda for a packing job, on Thursday, and won't return till the following Monday. Another place I'd never have gone to on my own. I guess we'll see how it goes, with TSA and air traffic control being messed about by Czar Chicken Little's shut-down of the government and Republican leaders actually thinking it's no big deal for the 800,000 federal employees furloughed or working without pay.

After that is Miami for the Map Fair...which could be an issue. But then comes a job in Reading, UK, for a week...which should be okay since I'm flying out of Toronto for that. So even if the shutdown is still going on, I can make it. Just don't know if the border will be open for my return.

I'm stopping my commentary there, since I so despise Republicans, right now, rehashing this crap will only piss me off. I just pray that SOB in the White House gets indicted by Mueller and Mitch McConnell is removed as Senate Majority Leader, since he's a bottleneck to anything happening. There are people out there who think all of this is a good thing. Seriously. Though some are now actually saying, "He's hurting the wrong people" since it's begun to affect them. Fucking hypocrites.

I know America's always had selfish assholes whose racism is considered natural and their claims to Christianity unassailable. The only good thing about the last two years is, we can no longer avoid the reality that a large portion of the United States' population is racist, hateful, cruel and sadistic...as well as fucking cowardly. If we'd had people like that in control, we'd still have slavery and women would not be able to even have their own checking account, let alone vote.

God damn the GOP...every fucking one of them...

I've started a new blog...

Since Tumblr self-destructed, I've been slowly setting up an adult blog on WordPress, and today it finally came into being.  JamTheCat is about working on my writing; angerandanarchy is about letting off steam in any way I want -- be it videos, photos, sketches, stories, snide commentaries, sexual bullshit, all sorts of things I don't want just anyone to be able to see. So I've finalized a popup that warns prospective viewers it's for adults only and they have to say they are over the age of 18 or go away.

I've already posted a couple of things on it, including links to where readers can buy Underground Guy. My plan is to use it not only as a place to explode before I explode but a sales tool for my adult novels. I got 5 of the buggers, now -- HTRASG, PM, RIHC6, BC, and now UG. LD and OT are more general while A65 is about as mainstream as it gets, for me.

I guess this makes me a niche author trying to broaden his base, but so far I've only had minimal success with that. I've already sold more copies of UG in the last 4 weeks than I have of A65 in the last 8 months. Who knows what will happen once I let APoS loose onto the world.

Don't get me wrong -- I'm not sorry about this. Writing dark as night books along with some sunshine and light helped me hone my ability as a writer enough to where I finally have the confidence to do APoS as it should be. I talk about having Tolstoy as my guide because he builds his worlds with lovely, deeply-felt characters and a feel for his society that is unsurpassed...but reality is I think I'm doing the Once and Future King route with APoS -- starting out relatively light and growing darker as Brendan ages and learns the truth of the world.

BUT...I do not want it bleak. I want honesty, not nihilism. I want truth, not statements. I want beauty and grace as well as hell on earth.

Not aiming for much, am I...

Missing LA...

I was in Los Angeles -- Anaheim Hills and Torrance, really, for a couple days -- but had a chance to wander around to my usual spots -- Book Soup to buy some books, The Grove to get new ear buds for my iphone, Taschen Bookstore for a couple books, India Grill to meet friends for dinner...

I spent way too much money and got caught in LA's typical traffic a couple of times, but damn I miss it. Working out of Buffalo has its advantages -- no distractions to keep me from writing, being one -- but LA is home to me. It's my city. Always will be.

One big issue is, when I'm there I start thinking about writing scripts and making movies, again, which shifts my focus away from other writing I want to do. I worked around it by reading Adrian McKinty's last book, Police At The Station and They Don't Look Friendly, and  bought a copy of James M. Cain's Double Indemnity to read on the flight back.

The flight to Buffalo turned out to be half full so I got a row to myself...read a little...and actually slept on a plane. One of the rare times. And after leaving LA, where it was upper 60s and clear, I landed in a snowstorm, had trouble unlocking my car's driver's door because it had frozen shut, and drove home on icy roads. I don't mind that, really. In fact, I like having 4 seasons. But Buffalo is not nor will it ever be home.

Nothing's been done on APoS except for the reading. I like McKinty's book; I'm getting some good ideas about the society of NI and he's got bleakness and cynicism down to an art. Plus the mystery worked out in a rather surprising way. He actually had a red herring I fell for, at the end, though the scenes setting it up did remind me too much of Three Days of the Condor (1975) and Diva (1981).

But as a sometime fellow thief of a writer I have to say -- if you're going to steal, steal from the best.

Slowly...slowly...

Went digging through my books, today -- Derry Journal of the 1970s, Streets of Derry (1625-2001), Burrows Pointer Guide Map of Londonderry (1946, I think), Derry Through the Lens - Refocus, Northern Ireland - The Troubles, Derry - the Troubled Years, and No Go. Mainly photo-oriented books in an attempt to see if what I wrote is workable...and unable to say, yet.

I put in an order for another book put out by the Derry Journal, for the 1960s, but that won't be in for a while; it's coming from a bookshop I deal with in Derry and will be the cheapest postal method possible. I just hope they at least put it in a padded envelope.

I shifted to working on connecting the sections in part three, where Brendan returns to Derry. I'm missing 4 links -- him seeing his mother and youngest brother, again, for the first time in more than 8 years, as well as a sister and another brother. Then there's some moments when he has to face a form of tribunal with the Provisional IRA over what happened when he disappeared from Derry in late 1972. Not a lot and yet...

I won't get anything done, tomorrow. I'm off to LA on a non-stop flight that doesn't get in till 9:30pm, so no blogging, either. I'll be packing, finalizing my prepping for the job and getting to the airport early in case some of the TSA have called in sick and it takes longer to get through security. Same for returning; I changed my flight to a later one on Wednesday, going through Chicago (which I do not like to do) but that way if there's any issues I've got plenty of time to deal with them.

It is my fervent hope the GOP in the Senate will come to its senses and dump Mitch McConnell as Majority leader. He is the main bottleneck to solving the shutdown. I think if the bill that was passed prior to the shutdown was put up, again, it would pass with a veto-proof majority and Czar Snowflake would be kicked in the balls.

He needs to be...and often, he's such an asshole.

I've read too many murder mysteries...

Well...Rain Dogs pretty much worked out like I figured. Dammit. I was hoping my suspicion of how a locked room murder happened would wind up being a deliberate red herring, but it wasn't. However, that was made up for by the finagling nonsense of the suspect after being found out and the final coda, which involved Finland deciding to join the EEC. That was clever.

Still, I like Adrian McKinty's writing style. Very dark, cynical and staccato...not like I write at all. Well...I don't do staccato. I mix in a lot of James Joycean run on sentences with Hemingway simplicity  layered by a Tolstoy-esque depth of character...and I know, I know, I'm full of shit. But it's fun to think I do all that.

I did more work...this time on APoS's ending. I changed who dies, and by doing that shifted the dynamic of the story, a little. But it helps make sense of a small mystery -- how the RUC found out Brendan was back in Derry masquerading as someone else. Part of me thinks this is too neat...and I may yet change it, again...but it works for now.

I may finally have my WordPress blog ready to run, including protection and such. I have to wait till I'm back from LA and it's set up for Adults Only before I start posting my more in-your-face stuff, but I can leave Tumbler in the dust. I'll shut that down on January 31st.

Today I had fun prepping for a packing job in Bermuda. Man...they have a different way of working, down there. I'm trying to arrange for packing materials to be delivered to the library's site, and for two weeks I've been talking with a freight forwarder in Hamilton who say they can supply the boxes and paper and bubble wrap I need...but do you think I can find out what they actually do have?

I tell them I want newsprint to use to stuff the boxes. Yeah, we got that. Is it this size? Yeah, we got that. Packages. How many sheets are in a package? We have a couple of half packages. Okay...I'm looking for 1200 sheets of the paper in 30x20 inches. Do you have that many? We've ordered packing materials but they won't be here when you need them. NO PACKING MATERIALS? We have boxes and bubble, and we do have a roll of paper. How big is the roll? We'll send you a photo. And then they don't send the photo.

Bermuda is not a place I've ever wanted to go to...and this is only confirming my impression of it. Who knows? Maybe the shutdown of the government will drag on and I won't b e able to go if the TSA and Air Traffic Controllers walk off the job for not being paid, since Czar Snowflake is dumb-fuck enough to think he can do to them what he's done to contractors.

God damn the GOP for helping that bastard.

Feeling weird...

I was heading home from work and got a need for another helping of enchiladas, but the only place that has halfway decent ones in Buffalo is 10 miles away in evening traffic. Not that big a deal but I didn't want to drive. Still...I talked myself into it but as I reached a point halfway I happened upon another Mexican Food Restaurant and decided to try them.

Big mistake. They weren't even on the level of El Patio. I got chips and processed salsa, which should have warned me, but then I ordered guacamole...and it was more like avocado soup. Not bad just not right. And then came the enchiladas, rice and beans...and I'm still tasting them 6 hours later. Try a new place, for once, and get shot down. Even a Corona didn't help.

I'm not sick; I ate vegetarian so I know the beans weren't made with chicken stock. I just feel...incomplete. So I've been reading more of Rain Dogs and it's interesting. Perhaps a bit too intensely bleak and cynical but I do want to see if my theory as to who committed the murder works out to be correct.

But I'm pretty bad off when sitting in bed with a good book and a nice cup of tea doesn't make me feel better.

WordPress is a pain...

I'm trying to set up a more adult in your face blog on Wordpress and they are making it really damned hard. I'm doing it through GoDaddy and they assigned me a temporary web address which is, I think, supposed to get updated to my blog's title...but it ain't yet. And the link to add comments has vanished. It was there yesterday.

I don't want to publicize it till I know everything's in place and it's up and running right...but that's not looking likely anytime soon. Maybe I'll look into starting an alternate blog on Blogger. I want to keep JamTheCat as my writing blog and use Anger & Anarchy as the political pissy one, with nudity and assholiness. We'll see how that goes. If this takes too much time, I'm not doin' it. I have other things that need my attention more -- like APoS.

No writing done, today, but I had a solid run the last couple days so no real complaints.

I learned my nephew, Daniel Pruske, had an architectural project he helped design featured in a glossy coffee-table magazine called C3: Brand and Identity. In fact, his building is on the cover. This is major. It's one of 4 buildings discussed in the magazine, in both English and Korean.

I remember him showing me some of the preliminary designs a few years back and thinking it was amazing, then. Now? He's really moving forward and has a lot going for him. I am so proud.

Funny story is, when I was visiting San Antonio from LA for his graduation, he mentioned he was interested in architecture and thinking of going to Texas Tech. They have a serious 5-year program for that. So we decided to just drive up and look it over. In the middle of summer. In friggin' Lubbock, Texas...the middle of nowhere in a town that does not believe in trees. But he, his mother (my sister) and I drove up...and found it was pretty much shut down but open enough to take a gander.

He liked it well enough so we headed back to the car to go grab a bite to eat before heading home, but on the spur of the moment my sister and I decided since we were there we should find out what it would take to apply. Turned out the day we were there was the last day for applications to the school and for financial aid. So instead of leaving we spent a couple hours filling out forms and he met with a counsellor. He had some of his artwork up online so they could look at that. And he got in. Just in time.

I think it was meant to be.

Working on the Celebration Fleadh for APoS...

I got sidetracked for a bit in a flame war with some Fuck Bernie nitwits on Twitter...till I stopped arguing and started asking them who they DID support for 2020. Suddenly crickets. So now I see social media is being used by assholes to sow discontent, distrust and dissension in the Democratic party. Stupid of me to get caught up in that for so long.

Still, I did some work on the Celebration Fleadh in Derry, that was put on shortly after the Battle of Bogside. It was a victory dance and was important to have, even if it was premature. Within a year the British were starting to side with the Protestants in Northern Ireland, and a year after that was internment...which led to violence even more hideous than before.

But this is important because it's where Brendan and Joanna connect and start seeing each other.