http://shelf-monkey.blogspot.com/
Over at Corey's blog, he gets his first advance, does the math, and cries.
Also! Abridged Moby Dick porn!
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Delicious Missed.
I don’t know what I find worse – the lack of time to read, or the lack of time to write.
Saturday mornings are the designated in-depth newspaper/magazine reading times for me and mine. Hot coffee within reach. Feet up on the sofa. My earthy body wrapped in a snug robe.
By noon there are a variety of publications strewn about the room like rumpled, hungover hookers - callously picked up, perused with interest then discarded. Trollops all - The Onion, the New York Times, the Toronto Star, the Western, Art, Business London, ArtScape and Scene - eventually dumped into a carpeted corner where the beige berber weave is quite gray with vegetable-based ink.
The contents are subconsciously thought about, resulting in the occasional bits sought out and clipped for future reference. The food for thought, once half-digested, leads to the troubling indigestion of half-baked inspiration. But is it real substance worth pushing or is it just wind?
Aaaaah yes! The ‘ca-ca poo-poo’ methophor. Always – always - always the writer’s realization that one reader’s steaming pile of feces maybe another’s literary masterwork.
F. Scott Fitzgerald’s referred to such deliberately written pieces as “cheap” and “vulgar”. He didn’t want to write crap, but more often than not, they supported him so he could write his ‘real stuff’. The same struggles and dilemmas that have been plaguing me for years - ring through his letters.
I recommend this book - F. Scott Fitzgerald, On Writing. Edited by Larry W. Phillips. Although I’ve read little of Fitzgerald’s work, his observations on the craft resonated deeply with me. It’s reassuring to know one is not alone, or that in 80 years things haven’t really changed all that much for writers and storytellers.
Nor has it, I suppose, in 8000 years.
I don’t know what I find worse – the lack of time to read, or the lack of time to write.
Saturday mornings are the designated in-depth newspaper/magazine reading times for me and mine. Hot coffee within reach. Feet up on the sofa. My earthy body wrapped in a snug robe.
By noon there are a variety of publications strewn about the room like rumpled, hungover hookers - callously picked up, perused with interest then discarded. Trollops all - The Onion, the New York Times, the Toronto Star, the Western, Art, Business London, ArtScape and Scene - eventually dumped into a carpeted corner where the beige berber weave is quite gray with vegetable-based ink.
The contents are subconsciously thought about, resulting in the occasional bits sought out and clipped for future reference. The food for thought, once half-digested, leads to the troubling indigestion of half-baked inspiration. But is it real substance worth pushing or is it just wind?
Aaaaah yes! The ‘ca-ca poo-poo’ methophor. Always – always - always the writer’s realization that one reader’s steaming pile of feces maybe another’s literary masterwork.
F. Scott Fitzgerald’s referred to such deliberately written pieces as “cheap” and “vulgar”. He didn’t want to write crap, but more often than not, they supported him so he could write his ‘real stuff’. The same struggles and dilemmas that have been plaguing me for years - ring through his letters.
I recommend this book - F. Scott Fitzgerald, On Writing. Edited by Larry W. Phillips. Although I’ve read little of Fitzgerald’s work, his observations on the craft resonated deeply with me. It’s reassuring to know one is not alone, or that in 80 years things haven’t really changed all that much for writers and storytellers.
Nor has it, I suppose, in 8000 years.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Writer/Artist Dave Sim 'interviews' Troy Little at his blog.
http://davesim.blogspot.com/
After Dave finished publishing issue 300 of Cerebus, the only gleam of intelligent comics on the horizon was Troy Little's Chiaroscuro. Troy tells his story about getting screwed over in Ottawa. (Alas, a situation I can sadly relate to.)
For anyone interesting in the perils of self-publishing a comic book, this is a worthy read.
ta!
http://davesim.blogspot.com/
After Dave finished publishing issue 300 of Cerebus, the only gleam of intelligent comics on the horizon was Troy Little's Chiaroscuro. Troy tells his story about getting screwed over in Ottawa. (Alas, a situation I can sadly relate to.)
For anyone interesting in the perils of self-publishing a comic book, this is a worthy read.
ta!
Friday, January 05, 2007
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