34 things I thought while watching The Expendables 2

I took a vacation this week. One of the things I did was see the movie, The Expendables 2. Here is my 34-point review. #spoiler alert#

1.  Oooooo. Explosions. 
2. Wait? Did the heroes just flip their jeep? 
3. Are they all crushed? 
4. Nope. Apparently not. 
5. If gratuitous violence has a name, it’s The Expendables 2 
6. Oh Jesus. The blood! The blood! 
7. The Expendables must have a teleporter. Sylvester Stallone was just in the jungle. Blink. Now he’s piloting the plane. 
8. Hey, I think that’s Frank Stallone’s new song. OK. It’s over. 
9. Why don’t they just prop open the safe door? They’re going to crush the new girl. 
10. The new guy on the team might as well be wearing a red ensign’s shirt. 
11. There is something very wrong with Jean-Claude Van Damme’s eyes. 
12. That was their plan? What was plan B? 
13. They’re going to get the new guy killed. 
14. The new guy’s dead. Who saw that coming?
15. The thing in the safe was a blueprint? 
16. Chuck Norris should really stop dying his hair. 
17. Haa! Chuck Norris telling a Chuck Norris joke! 
18.  Women can’t shoot. Ha! (Sorry to laugh, but this is what the movie wants me to believe). Except for hot Asian chicks. They can shoot. They can also beat someone senseless with a tree branch. Although, why is she beating someone with a tree branch when clearly she has a gun or two? 
19. And the award for best fight scene with a thurible goes to: Jason Statham.
20. My drunken, one word summary of The Expendables 2: Thurible 
(Sounds like “terrible” slurred. Get it? Come on, work with me here.) 
21. Ravens on skulls are cool. Fountain pens with skulls are cool. Cycles with skulls are cool. What about a toilet with skulls? A raccoon skin cap with a skull embroidered on it? A skull drawn on a skull upon a skull? 
22. I should get a skull tattoo. 
23. Arnold!!! 
24. But I wanted the village women to be piloting the crazy drilling machine to rescue their men. They can’t shoot; maybe they’d be good at heavy machinery? 
25. This is good caramel corn. 
26. Why is it spelled “caramel” and not carmel? 
27. A Smart car chase scene in the airport. Yes! Brilliant. 
28. Wait. They’re having a shootout in a crowded airport? What about all the innocent bystanders?
29. Machine gunfire = cool. What? Did they just shoot a coffee barista? Did they just shoot a newspaper vendor? A baby? Chuck Norris? They prob’ly all had it coming. 
30. Why did they swap out Jet Li for Nan Yu (aka the hot Asian chick) early in the film? Is Jet Li not hot enough? Is his acting too good? 
31. “Do you know how to carve a turkey?” WTF does that line mean? 
32. Why are all the surviving cast members reciting the Vachel Lindsay poem, The Congo? 
33. Am I the only person in the audience who knows this poem? 
34. What no gag reel?

In Which Shawn Merges Onto the Self Publishing Highway

Note: This post originally appeared on my personal blog Writing and Whatnot.

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My book is done! Woot!

But I've been here before and here too.

I'd like to say, this time I'm really done, but now I'm older and wiser (ha!) and I know there's more work ahead. Have I taken this thing far as I can by myself? Yes, unless one of the few people who I've lined up to read this says, "Hey this part blows." I'd fix that but otherwise, yep, I'm done.

So what's next?

What I'm not doing: querying agents.

I want creative freedom, fair compensation for my efforts, and full control of my intellectual property rights. Agents work with traditional publishers and traditional publishers won't give me any of those things.

What I will do: self publish

But not this kind of self publishing:

[David] has no interest in self-publishing and worries that the flood of substandard self-published books is creating a backlash. "You have to be dedicated to the craft of writing," he said. "I don't think doing straight e-books answers that. You don't get better. There isn't an editor, an agent or a line editor to go through the books with a very fine-tooth comb to massage it into something that is of high quality. Instead, you have people who think the first draft of whatever they put down is good stuff."

That's David Housewright in a recent Star Tribune article. I understand his point of view, it's point of view that he shares with many, but I do not believe that self publishing and producing a quality product are mutually exclusive. Plenty of authors have already demonstrated that self published works can be of high quality and not only do I plan on doing the same, but I plan on doing it entirely though ebooks. Will I have a Print On Demand option somewhere down the line? Probably, but that's getting ahead of myself.

First, I have to write the best book I can. That involves hiring a story editor and then making revisions. It also involves hiring a copy editor and making more revisions. Finally, there's the book cover designer. No revisions there - whew!

So as you can see, there's no part of what comes next that is going to be easy or expedient. Or cheap. I have a lot of hard work left.

I think this puts it best:

When I suggest that self-publishing a book is too easy, I mean it in the sense that descending a mountain by jumping off is too easy.

That's Clark G. Vanderpool in a post titled CAUTION – Self-Publishing Is Too Easy, which I have pulled from Porter Anderson's Writing on the Ether. Clark goes on to say:

It can be accomplished with minimal effort, little or no assistance, and very short-term planning, but too often the too easy can lead to disaster.

Unfortunately, some authors who consider self-publishing seem ready to take the swan dive rather than endure a controlled descent.

That is what David was talking about. More from Clark:

I began my analogy at the top of the mountain…Now, in the rarefied atmosphere of accomplishment, he or she (our author) searches for the fastest way to disseminate this newly written creation to the population below. A relatively small percentage of authors will be able to descend in the harness of a publisher’s parachute. The thing about parachutes is that they require a commitment preceded by a leap of faith and followed by a lack of control.

And with no publisher’s parachute?

And that is what I was talking about. As well as this:

For the rest of us who do not wish to remain on the summit like a solitary Oracle awaiting the sincere reader to scale the heights in search of our wise words, there is always self-publishing–an increasingly accessible option. But the ease of access carries with it the temptation to ignore the process. Those who succeed through self-publishing do so, more often than not, by careful steps and with the help of a guide who has been over the ground before.

If an author will invest as much effort in getting down the mountain as in reaching the summit, self-publishing can be a rewarding path.

So wish me luck, friends. I'm about to go where no Scribblerati agent has gone before. I'm going to jump off the mountain, but I'm going to do it the right way. The hard way.

I'll keep you posted.

Done by summer's end...?

I started my second attempt at a novel back in January.

Well, that's not totally true. I wrote the first chapter of what would become my second attempt at novel a year or so ago.

Wait... no.

Farther back, I guess I first tried to make it a short story, maybe two years ago, but it was too big and clunky and just wouldn't fit. It burst at the short story's seams. It wouldn't fit and yet still say all the things I wanted it to say.

Which was, to say the least, a bit frustrating and problematic... at least, at first.

So I took the short story and I churned out a first chapter, just to try it out and see if it could walk around a bit. I tested it out, first among the venerable bastards of the Scribblerati and then in David Oppegaard's nascent Loft class.

It seemed to do all right. It could walk. In fact, it did better than all right. It didn't just walk, it ran. I'm pretty sure I've talked about this project on here before. At the very least I talked about what the book was generally concerned with, right?

Right.

So anyway, in January--new year, starting out fresh and all that--I sat down and started working on it in earnest. Tentatively working-titled as Monsters, I wanted to finish it by summer's end. It wasn't easy. Well, ok, sometimes it was easy. Sometimes the prose flowed like a mighty river. Sometimes the hum of the screen was so loud while I was staring at a blank page, it just about drove me insane. But now, 13 chapters in and on the other side of a short but wicked bout of writer's block, now 68,000 odd words along, I figure there's only four chapters and just under a month left.

For those of you keeping score, that's a chapter a week.

I think I can do it. I do. I think I can do it and here's why. Stepping into the project, I only had one goal: Done by summer's end. But I should clarify, I mean first draft done. It doesn't have to be pretty. It doesn't have to be good. It doesn't even have to be all that coherent. It just has to be done.

First draft done.

By summer's end.

One chapter a week.

Yeesch. I'm pretty sure I can do it.

Hopefully...

But here's the other trick... You ready for this? It doesn't matter if I get done by summer's end. See that? It doesn't matter. It's just an arbitrary goal. It's one I think I'll pull off, or at least, near enough to make no difference, but in the end, whether I make it or not...

No big whoop. The only thing that matters is finishing.

First draft done.

Hooray!



Then, my plan is to set the humped and wretched beast aside for a few weeks, probably the whole of September, and then take it and the responses I have already received from the Scribblerati, sit down, and get started on the second draft.

Which is the reason I'm doing this blog here today. The second draft. This is where I will fix it. This is where I will smooth things out, make them a little more clear, make them fit better, make them better serve the story. This is where I will determine the story, to be honest. I'm sure I will lose characters, I'm sure I will combine some as well. I'll move some to the forefront and some to the background. I will cut scenes and I will add others. The first draft just provides the frame work, the shape, the big block of stone. The second draft is all about the shaping, the chiseling off of the unnecessary bits, of turning that big block of stone into a beautiful statue... or at least, a statue.

And here's the little guiding light. Here is something to see by in that word-crammed darkness, a map to guide my way, to guide your way in your own work. It is filled with things to think about and things to remember. Print it out. Tack it to you wall. Learn it, love it, live it.

It's Pixar's 22 rules of storytelling.

That's a bunch of basic true-isms there, kids. Think what you will of Pixar (although as a hint... The correct way to think of them is that they're awesome. Don't think so? You're wrong.), regardless of how you may feel about them and their films, as a writer, it's important to know that this list is right. It's a good tool. Sure, y'know, maybe don't worry about it so much at first, but later... like I said, in the second draft? Keep it close, because the path through the second draft can be darker and meaner and more discouraging than the last time, so it's good to have a map.

Keep writing,

Good luck,

Jon

Both Feet!

So my husband, Tony, started using the phrase, “Both feet!” (usually bellowed) after he learned it from an elderly southern woman. (Who else?) She had made sweet potato pie, and after he complimented her on its deliciousness, she said, “I put both feet in that pie.” Ah yes, a phrase, in that context, at once disgusting and fantastic.

Tony, a jazz musician, will sometimes yell it after a band mate lays down a particularly perilous and striking improvised solo. I’ve been known to shout it out when I make some crazy, intuitive leap in the kitchen, like putting a dash of Pernot in linguine and clams. (Delicious, by the way.)

“Both feet!” means commitment. Full-on commitment to the moment. If you’re going to do this thing, then take some risks, allow for the possibility of it being great. Don’t waste your time dibble-dabbling your toesies in the water to check the temperature and/or for sharks –plunge right in. Often, artistically, there are great rewards. Sometimes, of course, there are sharks.

Improv comedians, the really great ones, are gonzo with the “Both feet!” mentality. I’ve done a bit of improv in my life, and I was always a ‘glue’ sort of performer. I responded well to others, kept the scene moving, and occasionally got a laugh. I was middle-of-the-road. The great ones are a pleasure to watch. They propel a scene forward with the most unlikely choices, and the utmost commitment – which is the source of the funny. Here’s an example. This isn’t the best Whose Line is it Anyway out there, but it’s typical.

Whose Line

The nice thing about improv comedy is that you’re usually working with at least one other person, who can hopefully catch that crazy curve ball you just threw, even if it was ill-advised.

Not so in writing. You’re on your own, baby. Unless you happen to have a fantastic writing group – or even just a friend or two who give you excellent feedback.

My fellow Scribberati gave me stellar advice on a particular chapter of my WIP, Ursula Evermore and the Case of the Man Who Wasn’t. I made the classic mistake of showing the gun, but not using the gun, metaphorically speaking. “If you’re going to threaten that this crazy, disastrous thing might happen,” said my group, “Then have it happen – otherwise your readers will be disappointed.”  But, I thought, it would be disastrous, and I have no idea how I could possibly get my characters out of such a corner!

Ah, but of course, that’s exactly what makes great, exciting fiction. So I did it. I threw them into that situation, and then spent the next few days pondering just how in the hell they were going to get out of this crazy mess. I figured it out. And of course, the story is far better for it.

Both feet!

So, yeah. I’m trying to remember that lesson throughout my second draft, even in small moments. Sometimes, admittedly, this practice can lead to the aforementioned sharks: crazy plot twists that make no sense, pointless tangents, irrational behavior in your characters. But that’s where we writers have the advantage. Unlike improv comedians, we have a delete button.

Page 99 or What can one page tell you?

While at Uncle Hugo’s last weekend with Jon Hansen, he told me about the book he was reading, “The Forever War.”

“How is it?” I asked.

He handed a copy to me off the shelf. Duh. We were standing right in front of it. I did what I do with any book I’m considering. I opened and started reading. In this case, it was page 1, and this was the line:

"Today we're going to show you eight silent ways to kill a man."

That’s a damn good line, I thought. I’d buy that book. (Fortunately Jon has agreed to lend me his copy when he’s done.)

So apparently, when book shopping, I don’t really give most books a big chance. I don’t want to read a hundred pages to decide if it’s a good book or not (I know many people who do). But—if the line or paragraph gets my attention, if the writing is so good I want to turn the page and see what happens next—I might purchase the book. If not, the book goes back on the shelf. 

This made me wonder about my writing—and I’ll ask you writer-types the same questions. So what happens when you pick up your work and open to any page and read any line or paragraph? Do you like what you find and want to keep reading? Will your readers?

For me and my own work, it depends on the page. I sometimes am surprised and think, “Gee, that’s good. Where did that even come from?” Other times I want to put my own work back on the shelf (but I can’t. It means back to the writing desk).

And then of course, there is always this site: http://page99test.com

It’s based around this saying:

“Open the book to page ninety-nine, and the quality of the whole will be revealed to you.”

~Ford Madox Ford

It’s an interesting idea. Check it out. If you create an account, you can read other people’s page 99 from their books (mostly unpublished)—or upload your own page 99 and get feedback. I’ve gone to it a few times, to check out what other writer’s have posted there. After reading each sample you can give feedback, most importantly, about whether or not you’d buy the book, or turn to the next page. I might be a tough grader, but for most of the samples I read on my last visit to page99test.com I wouldn’t turn to the next page or buy the book in 9 times out of 10. Why?

In some cases it was “thick text” (one unrelenting descriptive paragraph filling the entire page), unrealistic or forced dialogue, telling vs. showing, unlikeable characters, characters who are doing nothing, great descriptions with no true character motivation, and so on. Or in other words, not great writing.

It’s not easy being a writer, but it’s also not easy being a reader. We’re all busy people, and if I (the reader) am going to take the time to read your stuff, you’d better be good, and you’d better be entertaining, and your writing has to be alive on the page, every single page. It’s got to be poetic, or funny, or scary, or (pick your favorite emotion), or contain likeable characters and an actual story. Or we’re not turning the page, and we’re not buying your book. And as the author, I think that stinks. But I also know that’s the name of the game. Why do you think I spend all this time editing and revising?

For fun I decided to post page 99 of my unpublished book BLACKHEART here:

http://www.page99test.com/read-my-page/1751

Please feel free to check it out. Leave feedback if you’d like. Check out other authors on the site, or even post your own page 99 if you are searching for feedback. Again, you’ll need an account to do this. There are ground rules for the page99test.com site, so read them carefully if you do set up your own account.

I debated about also putting up page 99 of my new book-in-progress, SUNLIGHT. But, it’s too new, still a first draft. I haven’t even entirely settled on which page will actually be page 99. But, I did look over that page in my rough manuscript, and it made me realize this: to make this page in my book work, to make it really stand out, sing, carry the story, I’ve got more work to do. 

Back to writing.

Happy 4^th of July!

Mark

@manowords

Open Your Heart

I've been cranky lately.

Its a number of things. First world problems mainly, but still, they've been weighing on me. Work's been kinda meh and I've been sick more than I haven't, but really, it's mostly the book's fault. I'm still not done!
Enough complaining.

I was driving home the other night, crabbing at the traffic, and thinking that all I wanted was to get home and get to work editing but I knew I needed to do some yoga first. It's two hours out of my evening, but I've been putting it off a lot and that's not helping things either.

So I got home and pulled up the Yoga Glow website and this class on heart openers jumped out at me. So I did it. And it was awesome. The instructor spoke of making space around your heart, of casting aside those old thoughts that weigh you down and opening up to truth and light and intuition.

That's good advice, eh? It doesn't matter if you are talking about work, or relationships, or editing. You have to be open to new ideas but that process of making yourself receptive isn't always easy. Sometimes the answer your looking for isn't even new.

Sometimes you just need to rediscover acceptance.

I am where I need to be. The rest will follow, if I open up my heart.

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Originally posted at my blog, Writing and Whatnot, on 6-21-12

Ray Bradbury Lives

As though I had lost a family member, the messages started coming in early this afternoon.

How are you holding up?

I’m so sorry to hear about Ray.

When I got the first message I hadn’t actually heard anything yet, but a quick check of the “Internets” proved my worst fear: Ray Bradbury, age 91 had passed away.

But I didn’t buy it. You see, for me this is the third time Ray Bradbury has died.

Twice before, good meaning friends who know my love of science fiction and Ray Bradbury have told me, out of the blue, “Oh, did you hear Ray Bradbury died.” Each time I tried to conceal my horror—and said, “No. I didn’t know that.” But in each case when I went to confirm, it wasn’t Ray at all, but another author of his era. In one case it was Kurt Vonnegut (yes, that still bummed me out). Who the other author was I don’t recall. But thankfully it wasn’t Ray.

So I’m holding out hope, you see, that Ray Bradbury is not really dead, that somehow the rumors of his death were greatly exaggerated to me—although this time the sources are more plentiful and verifiable. It’s not looking good, but I’m praying, wishing, as only one fantasy writer and fan can for another, especially one as important as Ray.

If I had a Sci-Fi/Fantasy dealer, that would be Ray. His short stories and books were my gateway drug to other fiction, maybe even my gateway drug into writing.

A friend once asked me if I could invite any three people alive or dead to dinner and converse with them, who would be on my guest list. I chose all living authors, which my friend said was telling. And Ray Bradbury was on the top of my list.

I never got to sit down and have a meal or an in-depth conversation with Mr. Bradbury, but I did get a great seat at a newly opened St. Cloud, Minnesota library to hear him speak once many years ago. He entertained the audience for an hour, talking about his life, his writing and sharing funny anecdotes. After his time on stage he sat at a desk out front to sign his books for a line of fans a block long.

I was the very last person in that line. At one point Ray announced that he would sit there as long as it took to sign every autograph. This was a man in his eighties, who had just had a stroke and had relearned how to write. Can you imagine that? Having what you do best taken away from you and having to learn it all over again at the age of eighty? Not many people would or could do that, let alone show up to sign autographs. But Ray sat there, and when I finally reached him he smiled and joked and shook my hand, and even took a fan letter from me.

The letter talked about my first memories at age 4 or 5 of seeing my father in his den reading Bradbury books. Of later my reading his books like THE ILLUSTRATED MAN, THE GOLDEN APPLES OF THE SUN or the HALLOWEEN TREE. And later yet as a teenager (and an adult) trying my hand at writing my own fiction stories. The letter was mostly me saying thank you to this great writer who had entertained and inspired me my whole life.

Many months later he left a message on my home answering machine, thanking me for the letter. And a few days after that an autographed book showed up in the mail.

(Below: Ray's signature in his book, ZEN in the Art of Writing)

Even now his kindness and creative spirit overwhelm me.

After hearing of Ray’s passing today I looked online to see what other information others were putting out there about Ray. I was pleased to see on Twitter, that two of the trending topics were “We Hate Lady Gaga” and “Ray Bradbury.”

One other site I looked at had a posting by someone who seemed close to Ray, who obviously knew him and his works, knew him more closely than I ever would. And that person said, and I’m overly summarizing here, “I’ll never see Ray again.” They seemed completely devastated, and I don’t blame them at all.

But—I wanted to say to that person, “Disciple, have a little faith.” For you see, I have heard Ray Bradbury tell the tale many times over the years in interviews (and the time I saw him in person) of how Ray became immortal. As a young boy around the age of twelve he went to the circus and the “Mr. Electrico” placed his sword on Ray’s head and made his hair stand on end, and said to him, “Live forever.” And shortly thereafter Ray Bradbury decided that the way he would live forever would be to write, to be an author, that books in libraries and ideas were forever, immortal. (Hear the story in Ray’s own words here).

So is Ray Bradbury really dead this time?

I say no. Go to your nearest library or bookstore, or pick up your Kindle or Nook (devices that Ray Bradbury probably wanted nothing to do with), and look around you. Ray’s books are there. And I think considering all his books and short stories, printed and reprinted all over the world, that his plan at immortality worked out for him.

If you want to find Ray Bradbury and what he’s all about, to experience his ideas and his poetic fiction, just pick one of his books and start reading.

Rest in peace, Mr. Bradbury.

Or better yet, live forever.

Mark Teats

The times we’ve mentioned Bradbury on this blog (includes this post):

http://thescribblerati.blogspot.com/search?q=bradbury

Ray Bradbury on why we’re all here and on growing old:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AgkVNK6ViJk

The Louis Armstrong of Science Fiction:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lHYm_fT3ewg&feature=related