That Thing Where I Draw: Anna

Suriya first meets Anna in a hotel room, after waking from a drug-induced sleep. Anna saved her from the bounty hunter who drugged her, or so she says. She says she's there to help, but mostly she seems annoyed at having to deal with Suriya at all. She won't even answer Suriya's questions.

But who else can Suriya ask? She's never met anyone with powers like hers before.

Suriya doesn't trust Anna, but she goes along with her for the time being. Mostly because she has no choice -- Anna has to take Suriya back to her employers or else kill her. Needless to say, Suriya isn't happy about it.

I Draw Like I Write 3

I'm starting to realize that the similarities between my drawing and writing processes are not so much about process, but more about the emotions I go through while doing it.

BLANK PAGE

"Ugh. I do NOT want to do this. I want to have done it."

 FIRST CHAPTER

"Hey, that's not bad. Maybe I should draw this thing after all."

 ALPHA READER

Cindy peeks over my shoulder at this point. "Oh, that looks really good!" she says. That's just enough to keep me going.

THE MIDDLE

"I hate drawing hair." "I'm good at hair." "I hate drawing hair."

FIRST DRAFT

"That's actually pretty good. At least it will be once I go through the endless, endless revision process."

I know there are folks that just love doing the first draft. Turns out that's not me. I love outlining, but doing the work of detailing every aspect of the story (such that it is a story) is hard. It's a constant struggle between hating it and loving it, where the only thing that keeps me going is the encouragement of my Beloved Alpha and others.

And yeah, drawing for me is no different. Come back Wednesday to see the final version, and to find out who this girl is.

Jonathan Coulton, Baby Got Back

I got this as an internet meme a long, long time ago. Like when people actually sent things to each other via e-mail. It was the first I'd ever heard of Jonathan Coulton.

It's an acoustic cover of Sir Mix-a-Lot's "Baby Got Back", and really, it's everything a cover should be. Enjoy.

Guest Post: I Need Help. Who Am I?

Emmet is an old friend of mine from real life. He's alternately a craftsman, a house painter, a pastor, and despite his confusion here, a moderate-level geek. Right now he's in Africa "doing… you know, stuff." He sometimes thinks digitally at http://emmet-blue.blogspot.com/.

After reading the request for guest bloggers I was struck by two nearly simultaneous thoughts. The first was, “Hey that sounds like fun.” The second was, “I don’t think I’m qualified to geek-out about drawing, writing, or… well Geekdom.” Don’t get me wrong, I can talk about all that stuff, but only as a visitor and not as a member. If there is one thing I’m almost 73% sure of (other than 82% of all statistics being made up), it’s that no member wants a visitor coming in and telling them how to run the place, it’s just not respectable.

This realization led me to the question, “What am I?” You see, several months ago I was on a hiking trip with a friend. One night we undertook the task of scientifically locking down the specific requirements and nuanced characteristics of many common “titles”.  A non-comprehensive sampling of the list includes, geeks, dorks, nerds, preps, D-bags, A-holes, and jerks. What is the difference between an A-hole and a jerk you ask? Well it comes down to levels of intent, dedication, and self-awareness. Oddly enough, as we basked in the glory of our accomplishment, we mutually confirmed our suspicions that none of these titles fundamentally applied to either one of us. If you disagree, I’m sorry, but you’re arguing with science, nothing we can do about it.

So what am I? I have an aptitude for strategic board games (if you are new to Ticket To Ride and pick up two black cards or a black and a green on your first turn, your destination is L.A. to Miami, trust me, it just is). I have an interest in video games, but I’m inept on a PC. I love LOTR but can’t tell you the name of Gandalf’s sword or make a clever pun in Elvish. I may be treated as an honorary geek or nerd in some gatherings, but the title would be purely situational. I certainly don’t own the T-shirt (you know who you are)(for the rest of you it’s Adam that I was talking about just there, you know with the “Geek” T-shirt and all… classic). 

I’m a fan of movies, but I’m not a “Film buff”. I love The Shatner but I’m not a Trekkie. That said, Seven of Nine is by far the hottest crewmember, or at least was up until the reincarnation of Uhura. Now they would have to fight for it… seriously, can we make that happen? Just checking. Likewise, I like Star Wars, but I fail at being a Fanboy. I just don’t have the energy, plus I’m a bigger fan of at least a dozen other movies. Yes, Han shot first; I mean come on, just because he doesn’t want to hear the odds, doesn’t mean he’s an idiot. When Jabba’s bounty hunter comes for you, you shoot him before he gets a chance to shoot you. Think people, this is common knowledge. I still wouldn’t write a strongly worded letter to Lucas, well okay, maybe for what he did to Jr., but not for the prequels or the continuous editing!

I find myself adept in many groups but not truly a member of any of them. I’d say that I was a poser or a chameleon, but I’m not faking interest, it’s just that my interest is passive and non-definitive. On the Myers-Briggs I’m an INTJ, also known as a “Mastermind”, which is pretty cool but hardly helpful. I mean henchman or wingman would have been more useful. Shoot, even Village Idiot would have been more definitive (stupid higher education).

Am I alone? When viewed comprehensively, are we all too complex to be classified, or am I just a member of a yet to be classified group? 

Please help!

Guest Post: The Fiction of Writing

Susan Kaye Quinn is an ex-engineer, writer, and elected official: but mostly she’s a mom. She writes middle grade and young adult novels, and blogs about writing and reading books for advanced readers, ages 8-12, over at Ink Spells.

The general public seems to have this idea that if you write a novel, you will be instantly rich and famous. You will don a tweed jacket or a silk scarf and pose in some odd angled picture that will make you look artistic. You will have masses of people flocking to sign your books as you tour the world, greeting your fans. As an esteemed published author, you can now be grumpy and retire to your hidden forested retreat where you will spin your next eagerly awaited book.

Right.

This fiction of the writing life is spun by the media attention focused on famous authors, those few Michael Jordan's of the writing world that are household names. Most of the public, especially readers, assume this lifestyle is enjoyed by all writers. People assume you write to make money, or to be famous, to have that elusive cachet of being a "published author." Although many writers would like to be JA Konrath, paying the bills with their writing, most realize that is unlikely to happen, or if it does, it will be a decade or more into their "writing career." If they are very lucky.

If you tell your family and friends you're not in it for the money or glory, that you write because you love it, or because you literally cannot stop like some literary addict, you're likely a get knowing look that says, "Sure. Sure."

Although your close family are probably well-disabused of this notion already, you may have to repeat it endlessly to friends and well-meaning extended family. Although it's bad enough before you have published, I suspect it is even worse after you have an actual book available for purchase. Because you've made it, right? Everything is sunshine and nirvana, right?

Except when you can't sell your second novel, or the first one performs poorly. Or maybe you have a wonderful run of several books, but then your career stalls out and needs new direction. A career in writing is more akin to a career in acting or music—you're only as good as your last book, and even that doesn't guarantee you'll sell another one.

Now that I've got you thoroughly depressed, here's the upside: There has never been a better time to be a writer.

No, I'm not delusional, at least not about that. Blogs, Facebook, Twitter, all the myriad online resources grant you access to a community of writers. Even though your Uncle Sandy and your PTA friend in the pickup line may have no idea what the interior life of a writer is like, you have a host of virtual writerly friends who do. Friends who understand that writing is like bleeding your heart onto the page and who want to talk about plotting and voice and the minutia of craft. Friends who sympathize with the agony of rejection, the frustration of a harsh critique, and who know in their hearts that you write because you love it—because they do too.

My brother is a talented writer, who never published. He gave up in his early 20's, back in the pre-internet days, when writers toiled in isolation. He is in awe of my blog, my crit group, my author facebook page, and my knowledge of agents and the publishing industry.

"This is nothing like when I was writing," he says.

Exactly so. So chin up, lads and lassies! It's a brave new world for writers.

Secrets of the Alliterati

I'm either on my way to, or recently arrived in full jet lag at, the United States. I may or may not have lots of internet time here, but I think I've left you in good hands anyway. We've got guest posts, Johnathan Coulton, and even a drawing to keep you happy while I'm away. I'll try and stop by the comments if I can. Otherwise if you want to know how I'm doing, you might want to follow my Twitter feed.

Meanwhile I've written a guest post over at The Secret Archives of the Alliterati today. It's about netters and knockers and tricks to avoid the dreaded infodump, especially in speculative fiction (sort of an extension of this post). Go check it out.

In Which I Prove We Will Achieve FTL Speeds by 2050

Supposedly it's impossible to travel faster than the speed of light. Supposedly it requires an infinite amount of energy.

But I posit that science knows far less than it does not know. At one time, it was believed man could not fly, the sound barrier could not be broken, and man could not reach the moon. Not just believed, but considered scientifically impossible.

And yet we did it.

So on the assumption that science is wrong about what we cannot do, I have collected the data on speeds man has attained over the past 300 years. The trend, ladies and gentlemen, clearly shows that we will send something through space at the speed of light around the year 2050.

If not, who cares? This was fun anyway.