In honour of Corey (WAVES) and as an underscoring to my rants on self-publishing, I invite you all to read the WORST piece of pulp ever committed to paper.
Minnow Trap, by Brian Horeck.
For a mere $15 CDN, you can treat yourself to this Ed Woodesque literary achievement.
www.minnowtrap.ca
Seriously, people.
This is the very worse thing I have ever read.
Ever.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Monday, August 28, 2006
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Currently reading:
Ulysses by James Joyce
(Don't get excited. I haven't made it past the intro yet)
The Veiled One by Ruth Rendall
Understanding Movies by Louis Giannetti and Jim Leach
and
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley.
How can I read four books at once?
One for the john, one for the bedside table,
one for the living room and one in the purse.
That's how.
;-)
Ulysses by James Joyce
(Don't get excited. I haven't made it past the intro yet)
The Veiled One by Ruth Rendall
Understanding Movies by Louis Giannetti and Jim Leach
and
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley.
How can I read four books at once?
One for the john, one for the bedside table,
one for the living room and one in the purse.
That's how.
;-)
Sunday, August 20, 2006
The hell???
What sort of megamall doesn't have a book store?
Yes, I'm talking to YOU Sherway Gardens, and don't give me that crap about a Chapters being just up the street.
Shame on you.
I take my aged mother out for a bit of long overdue shopping, knoshing and chitchat, with the idea that we would engage in our mutually favourite thing - idling an hour or two away in a book store - and the best you can offer is a rickey rack of "new releases" in a newpaper outlet.
I mean... damn.
Which leads me to my next rant.
I don't care if A Million Little Pieces has been updated with "notes from the publisher and the author". I wouldn't pick that book up if I saw it lying in the street, much less pay for it.
That is all.
What sort of megamall doesn't have a book store?
Yes, I'm talking to YOU Sherway Gardens, and don't give me that crap about a Chapters being just up the street.
Shame on you.
I take my aged mother out for a bit of long overdue shopping, knoshing and chitchat, with the idea that we would engage in our mutually favourite thing - idling an hour or two away in a book store - and the best you can offer is a rickey rack of "new releases" in a newpaper outlet.
I mean... damn.
Which leads me to my next rant.
I don't care if A Million Little Pieces has been updated with "notes from the publisher and the author". I wouldn't pick that book up if I saw it lying in the street, much less pay for it.
That is all.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
So.
Brown Trout has fessed up and outed himself.
(His account is gone and so and my link is deleted)
His name is Dave.
I sincerely wish Dave all the very best of luck in finding a publisher.
Dave absolutely does have the gift for writing, and certainly for creating a believable character.
I still think he ought to write a BT cookbook/wine guide.
Everytime I read his descriptions of those gorgeous meals, I was chewing on my desk.
God speed, Dave.
It was truly a pleasure to meet you.
Brown Trout has fessed up and outed himself.
(His account is gone and so and my link is deleted)
His name is Dave.
I sincerely wish Dave all the very best of luck in finding a publisher.
Dave absolutely does have the gift for writing, and certainly for creating a believable character.
I still think he ought to write a BT cookbook/wine guide.
Everytime I read his descriptions of those gorgeous meals, I was chewing on my desk.
God speed, Dave.
It was truly a pleasure to meet you.
Monday, August 14, 2006
On my more serious reading list is the first issue of a comic by web comic Least I Could Do creators Ryan Sohmer and Aurora award winner Lar DeSouza.
BRA-MAN #1
It is seriously hilarious. I think it's the fat chick jokes that bring this work into the literary realm for me.
BRA-MAN #1
It is seriously hilarious. I think it's the fat chick jokes that bring this work into the literary realm for me.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
More on Fringe Words and the London Fringe Festival
It was just my tough luck that the week of the Fringe coincided with the training sessions of my new job and I missed out on a couple of plays I wanted to see.
TRAINING EXCERPT
:
MANAGER: Never drink the chemicals, okay? Very bad.
Me: Uh.... Okay.
So I only got to go to Fringe Words, the opening parade and A Celebration of Dorothy Parker.
Fringe Words was organized by Thomas Keith, a writer who has interesting adventures involving cell phones.
Ten writers read their short stories, or poems, and, in one case, provided a rather elabatorate pre-recorded audio experience timed with their live reading.
As I mentioned before, Daniel Alexander struck me as the best. Not only by the great strength and quality of his work, but with his velvet-voiced delivery of what were deceptively calm and intensely emotional stories.
A table with several enthusiastic participants from Attic Books included the 'Freeps/Creeps' and and rather delightfully intense poet, (I think his name was Jason. He was hilarious, and a crowd favorite) who alternately tried not to giggle while reading and/or admonished the crowd for applauding him. His heartwrenching line - "In space no one can hear you love", delivered in a quavering emotional whisper, had me on the floor.
A fellow named Kevin was another poet with excellent potential.
Shelley Long (Not the actress) read her story of studying dance and her trials of dating men.
'Dating Geeks' was the first readng, and very funny. I regret I didn't note her name, but she was hooked up with Smurfguy. I deeply regret not taking notes to keep names and readings straight.
Anyway, The hat was passed around and the proceeds split ten ways. I made ten bucks. Canadian. I blew it all on two drinks.
Overall, I think my story was well received. It was definitely a good experience.
In reply to Mindy, I don't know if Arizona has a Fringe Festival, but organising something like this shouldn't be that hard. We were supplied with a mike and PA system on the patio of a pub. Thomas allotted eight spaces but in the end was able to accomodate ten writers. The stories were limited to 10 minutes or less.
He's held such events before in libraries and small stages, but the crowd size varied.
Go for it, Mindy. Maybe set a consistant theme though. The jarring mindset during the whole event was due to going from deeply depressing poems to experimental performance art to light comedy to first person confessions of why one should never disclose one's phone number in gay chat rooms.
Luckily there was booze to even it all out.
;-)
On A Celebration of Dorothy Parker was preformed by the Theatre Soup. The Moe Sullivan Trio provided the sometimes uneven music to actors Anne-Marie Caicco, Chris Kevill, Judy McCormick and Sookie Mei. Unfortunately the lack of microphones detered from the performances. I found myself straining to hear the actors over the musical backdrop of accordian/guitar/drums.
Between skits, a biography of Dorothy Parker was provided - the copy was, I believe, taken straight from Wikipedia. It sounded a trifle bland and factual during delivery as a result. Still, overall it was a fine effort and very enjoyable. Chris Kevill stood out as particularly good.
Sadly, I learned Parker's ashes remained unclaimed for years. her dust resided in closets and filing cabinets for far too long before finally being claimed by the NAACP and interred in a garden.
It was just my tough luck that the week of the Fringe coincided with the training sessions of my new job and I missed out on a couple of plays I wanted to see.
TRAINING EXCERPT
:
MANAGER: Never drink the chemicals, okay? Very bad.
Me: Uh.... Okay.
So I only got to go to Fringe Words, the opening parade and A Celebration of Dorothy Parker.
Fringe Words was organized by Thomas Keith, a writer who has interesting adventures involving cell phones.
Ten writers read their short stories, or poems, and, in one case, provided a rather elabatorate pre-recorded audio experience timed with their live reading.
As I mentioned before, Daniel Alexander struck me as the best. Not only by the great strength and quality of his work, but with his velvet-voiced delivery of what were deceptively calm and intensely emotional stories.
A table with several enthusiastic participants from Attic Books included the 'Freeps/Creeps' and and rather delightfully intense poet, (I think his name was Jason. He was hilarious, and a crowd favorite) who alternately tried not to giggle while reading and/or admonished the crowd for applauding him. His heartwrenching line - "In space no one can hear you love", delivered in a quavering emotional whisper, had me on the floor.
A fellow named Kevin was another poet with excellent potential.
Shelley Long (Not the actress) read her story of studying dance and her trials of dating men.
'Dating Geeks' was the first readng, and very funny. I regret I didn't note her name, but she was hooked up with Smurfguy. I deeply regret not taking notes to keep names and readings straight.
Anyway, The hat was passed around and the proceeds split ten ways. I made ten bucks. Canadian. I blew it all on two drinks.
Overall, I think my story was well received. It was definitely a good experience.
In reply to Mindy, I don't know if Arizona has a Fringe Festival, but organising something like this shouldn't be that hard. We were supplied with a mike and PA system on the patio of a pub. Thomas allotted eight spaces but in the end was able to accomodate ten writers. The stories were limited to 10 minutes or less.
He's held such events before in libraries and small stages, but the crowd size varied.
Go for it, Mindy. Maybe set a consistant theme though. The jarring mindset during the whole event was due to going from deeply depressing poems to experimental performance art to light comedy to first person confessions of why one should never disclose one's phone number in gay chat rooms.
Luckily there was booze to even it all out.
;-)
On A Celebration of Dorothy Parker was preformed by the Theatre Soup. The Moe Sullivan Trio provided the sometimes uneven music to actors Anne-Marie Caicco, Chris Kevill, Judy McCormick and Sookie Mei. Unfortunately the lack of microphones detered from the performances. I found myself straining to hear the actors over the musical backdrop of accordian/guitar/drums.
Between skits, a biography of Dorothy Parker was provided - the copy was, I believe, taken straight from Wikipedia. It sounded a trifle bland and factual during delivery as a result. Still, overall it was a fine effort and very enjoyable. Chris Kevill stood out as particularly good.
Sadly, I learned Parker's ashes remained unclaimed for years. her dust resided in closets and filing cabinets for far too long before finally being claimed by the NAACP and interred in a garden.
Friday, August 11, 2006
Fringe Words went very well.
Met some fabulous folks, and was totally blown away by the stories of one Daniel Alexander.
His writing is truly marvelous. Told him about Miss Snark and encouraged him to get online and start querying.
Also met SmurfGuy aka Dave, main squeeze of the first author to read.
I wish I'd thought to take pan and paper and get everyone's name.
About 45-50 people showed. I was nervous as hell, but didn't faint.
I even made a boob joke.
0.o
Heh heh.
I wanna do this again.
Met some fabulous folks, and was totally blown away by the stories of one Daniel Alexander.
His writing is truly marvelous. Told him about Miss Snark and encouraged him to get online and start querying.
Also met SmurfGuy aka Dave, main squeeze of the first author to read.
I wish I'd thought to take pan and paper and get everyone's name.
About 45-50 people showed. I was nervous as hell, but didn't faint.
I even made a boob joke.
0.o
Heh heh.
I wanna do this again.
Monday, August 07, 2006
As I prepare for my reading on Wednesday night, I have been practicing BUNNY HUNTING orally. And had to make several edits to the story.
It’s a very different thing to read a story aloud, than it is to read it in silence. Words flow differently.
I am, of course, nervous - but looking forward to participating in FringeWords. Wish me good luck, folks.
BARDMARKS
My reading list had been pretty heavy lately, and I have been reading a great deal. Mostly I’ve been thinking about what sort of writer I want to be. Again.
I have been attempting to find a copy of James Joyce's Ulysses, abet unsuccessfully. Imagine! Even the library doesn’t have it. I shall email the Book Gallery back in Carleton Place. If they don’t have it, no one will.
My latest ‘light summer read’ is Understanding Media, by Marshall McLuhan. I think my head is going to explode. It’s fascinating, but frustrating. The guy throws so many new and huge concepts and perceptions at you it’s hard to grasp it all. He often refers to James Joyce, which makes me what to read Ulysses even more, just to have a better grasp the many references. Each paragraph is like looking at one of those drawing that can be perceived in more than one way. Like the outline of a vase that is also two faces in profile, or the old lady/young woman image. Not everyone can see it without a bit of help. Some of the concepts I can grasp. The rest I just don’t get…yet.
This isn’t making it easier to decide on a course of action regarding my writing. Perhaps I’m just procrastinating. I have 6 WIPs. Two that I think genuinely worthy of my limited time, and a new one in the back of my mind I am plotting out.
It’s like having to choose between one’s children. A veritable Sophie’s Choice in terms of creative offspring. The favourite may not be the best one in terms of posterity.
Which are sacrificed to the greater good of all?
It’s a very different thing to read a story aloud, than it is to read it in silence. Words flow differently.
I am, of course, nervous - but looking forward to participating in FringeWords. Wish me good luck, folks.
BARDMARKS
My reading list had been pretty heavy lately, and I have been reading a great deal. Mostly I’ve been thinking about what sort of writer I want to be. Again.
I have been attempting to find a copy of James Joyce's Ulysses, abet unsuccessfully. Imagine! Even the library doesn’t have it. I shall email the Book Gallery back in Carleton Place. If they don’t have it, no one will.
My latest ‘light summer read’ is Understanding Media, by Marshall McLuhan. I think my head is going to explode. It’s fascinating, but frustrating. The guy throws so many new and huge concepts and perceptions at you it’s hard to grasp it all. He often refers to James Joyce, which makes me what to read Ulysses even more, just to have a better grasp the many references. Each paragraph is like looking at one of those drawing that can be perceived in more than one way. Like the outline of a vase that is also two faces in profile, or the old lady/young woman image. Not everyone can see it without a bit of help. Some of the concepts I can grasp. The rest I just don’t get…yet.
This isn’t making it easier to decide on a course of action regarding my writing. Perhaps I’m just procrastinating. I have 6 WIPs. Two that I think genuinely worthy of my limited time, and a new one in the back of my mind I am plotting out.
It’s like having to choose between one’s children. A veritable Sophie’s Choice in terms of creative offspring. The favourite may not be the best one in terms of posterity.
Which are sacrificed to the greater good of all?
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Moving house is a stressful experience.
Moving from the deep dark woods (populated with coyotes, bears, wolves, game birds, deer and a plethora of other wild things) to deep dark downtown is both stressful and invigorating.
I notice at Barry Eisler’s blog, he’s going on about noise. HEE! Seneca bitched about the noise while living over a bathhouse umpteen centuries ago. The more things change...
Me? I find the wail of sirens less intrusive than having those bloody tree frogs on my bedroom windows, croaking their lust for the entire county to hear. I’m liking the city noise. Silence can be oppressive in it’s own way.
Possessions, too, are oppressive. It is a relief to be rid of the burden of so many ‘things’. In my attempt to be completely car-free by 2010, I sold my trusty little Honda and am now walking my ample butt around or taking the bus. The savings in gas, insurance and maintenance alone is wholly satisfying. Take THAT oil industry!
‘Quiet’ county living was great, but it’s also a huge time suck. I recall Spider Robinson finding out the same thing. Too much time chopping wood cut into his writing time. I don’t regret the time we spent in the woods, and I must say the pulse of city living is far more to my liking. Just watching people is enough to inspire a half-dozen stories a day.
Why was that girl crying as she walked down the street? What’s her story?
Or that arrogant young man in the 1960’s era hotrod, who obviously had just ingested some illegal substance and yelled out the car window to the handful of us waiting for a bus – “GET A CAR, YA LOSERS!” I wonder where he will be in ten years.
I feel compelled to write a story where such a man as he is busted, his driving license is then revoked, and one day, while taking the bus, he is taunted by a group of youths in a car for not having a car – ah! Divine justice.
Moving makes you prioritize. What is important to you? If you can take a few things with you, what is most important? This first thing I did was back up all my writing and put the discs in my purse. A few things did get completely and utterly destroyed in the move but they were replaceable.
As Mindy moves house this blistering hot week, she has my utmost sympathy and best wishes. It’s stressful, but cleansing in a way.
* * * *
BARDMARK’S BOOK REVIEWS
Just finished Sylvia’s Plath’s The Bell Jar.
Highly recommend. Beautiful imagery. It is such a pity that she was unable to smash the glass of her own bell jar and write more novels. Am definitely going to check out her poetry.
Selected Letters of Oscar Wilde – Edited by Rupert Hart-Davies
Fascinating reading. Esp. the unedited letter to Lord Alfred Douglas which was written over several months in Reading Gaol. Again, one is filled with regret that such a talent was squashed and ruined and left unable to pursue his Art, although if Oscar’s hubris had not gotten the better of him, the Ballad of Reading Gaol would never have been conceived. All his suffering seems worth it - just for that one extraordinary poem.
If you like Oscar, a highly recommended read.
Girl With A Pearl Earring, by Tracy Chevalier
Saw the movie first, and it is brilliant and gorgeous, but the book is much better. Simple, graceful prose and beautifully rich imagery, Chevalier paints with words as effectively as Vermeer did with oils.
A must read.
Moving from the deep dark woods (populated with coyotes, bears, wolves, game birds, deer and a plethora of other wild things) to deep dark downtown is both stressful and invigorating.
I notice at Barry Eisler’s blog, he’s going on about noise. HEE! Seneca bitched about the noise while living over a bathhouse umpteen centuries ago. The more things change...
Me? I find the wail of sirens less intrusive than having those bloody tree frogs on my bedroom windows, croaking their lust for the entire county to hear. I’m liking the city noise. Silence can be oppressive in it’s own way.
Possessions, too, are oppressive. It is a relief to be rid of the burden of so many ‘things’. In my attempt to be completely car-free by 2010, I sold my trusty little Honda and am now walking my ample butt around or taking the bus. The savings in gas, insurance and maintenance alone is wholly satisfying. Take THAT oil industry!
‘Quiet’ county living was great, but it’s also a huge time suck. I recall Spider Robinson finding out the same thing. Too much time chopping wood cut into his writing time. I don’t regret the time we spent in the woods, and I must say the pulse of city living is far more to my liking. Just watching people is enough to inspire a half-dozen stories a day.
Why was that girl crying as she walked down the street? What’s her story?
Or that arrogant young man in the 1960’s era hotrod, who obviously had just ingested some illegal substance and yelled out the car window to the handful of us waiting for a bus – “GET A CAR, YA LOSERS!” I wonder where he will be in ten years.
I feel compelled to write a story where such a man as he is busted, his driving license is then revoked, and one day, while taking the bus, he is taunted by a group of youths in a car for not having a car – ah! Divine justice.
Moving makes you prioritize. What is important to you? If you can take a few things with you, what is most important? This first thing I did was back up all my writing and put the discs in my purse. A few things did get completely and utterly destroyed in the move but they were replaceable.
As Mindy moves house this blistering hot week, she has my utmost sympathy and best wishes. It’s stressful, but cleansing in a way.
* * * *
BARDMARK’S BOOK REVIEWS
Just finished Sylvia’s Plath’s The Bell Jar.
Highly recommend. Beautiful imagery. It is such a pity that she was unable to smash the glass of her own bell jar and write more novels. Am definitely going to check out her poetry.
Selected Letters of Oscar Wilde – Edited by Rupert Hart-Davies
Fascinating reading. Esp. the unedited letter to Lord Alfred Douglas which was written over several months in Reading Gaol. Again, one is filled with regret that such a talent was squashed and ruined and left unable to pursue his Art, although if Oscar’s hubris had not gotten the better of him, the Ballad of Reading Gaol would never have been conceived. All his suffering seems worth it - just for that one extraordinary poem.
If you like Oscar, a highly recommended read.
Girl With A Pearl Earring, by Tracy Chevalier
Saw the movie first, and it is brilliant and gorgeous, but the book is much better. Simple, graceful prose and beautifully rich imagery, Chevalier paints with words as effectively as Vermeer did with oils.
A must read.
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