A is for Anna Marie

Excerpt from my debut novel Out of the Great Black Nothing, for the April A-Z Challenge.

I will post excerpts from various writings daily.

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What did you do to me? Percy said to Anna Marie. He thought the words and she heard them, even as they both fed on their living mother.

I gave you life, Anna Marie thought back to him.

I had life. I had happiness. I was fine living in the moon's shadow.

You were alone, Anna Marie said.

And what does that matter, being alone? I am Gamjen the Watcher. All I need are the stars.

You'll forget about all that.

Forget about the stars? Never.

I mean you'll forget about who you are. That's part of it. You are Percy Freebottom, now. You forget everything when you come down. You remember it now, but soon you'll un-learn it all, and learn to speak like they do, with their mouths and faces.

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LEAVE YOUR MARK! Put an X in the comments, if you have nothing more to say.

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Eric W. Trant is a published author of several short stories and the novel Out of the Great Black Nothing. He is currently represented by Debrin Case at Open Heart Publishing. See more of Eric's work here: Publications

Big Screen - Little Screen v. Paperback - E-Book: A Comparison

Let us compare and contrast how the movie industry coped with the advent of home theater, and how that same logic might apply to traditional paperback publishing, and the forthcoming e-book publishing wave.

It's all about revenue
Let me say it again: REVENUE. That's cashflow into a company's coffers. For a movie studio, they initiate that cashflow by printing out reels of their movies, and shipping said reels to local movie theaters around the world. Money exchanges hands.

Book publishers initiate revenue the same way. They print books, and ship them to retailers all over the world. Again, money exchanges hands.

In this way, the revenue stream is brought forward in time, well in advance of the first movie ticket or book purchase. Note that a large amount of cash flowed between companies, without one customer purchase.

This is the inventory model on which capitalism is founded, folks. This is how our global economy works.

It's all about distribution
Movie studios don't distribute movies -- theaters do. Each theater licenses and presents the titles they think will be popular, locally, and pitch them in local advertising venues such as billboards, radio stations, and television ads.

Likewise with printed books sent to local bookstores and national chains. They know their customers, and can react quickly to local mood swings.

The point is this: Movie studios and publishers do not interact directly with the customer! They send their product to local distributors who do this for them.

Again, this is how our economy is designed.

It's all about going big first
Movies first go to the big screen. That's where they generate up-front revenue (from the inventory sales), and gain the most market exposure. They also enjoy rich ticket sales from the licensing. A family of four might spend $45 to see a theater movie, while if they wait, an entire houseful of guests can watch the same movie for $1 out of Redbox.

Books are no different. They go first to hardback. Hardbacks display well on the shelves, are more likely to be placed cover-up and cover-forward, and are often accompanied by additional marketing material such as posters, billboards, and book signings. They also have a higher profit margin for the publisher.

Then, after the initial market response is gauged, they move onto paperback, with a wider and more voluminous distribution. There isn't a good correlation to movies here.

This is where the money is truly made. The distributors enjoy their cut, while the publishing houses and studios enjoy theirs.

Again and again, our economy at work.

Now we get to the cheap stuff
After the movie release, after the hardback-paperback release, we move onto the next phase of distribution.

For movies, it is the DVD sales. There isn't a literary correlation to this. The DVDs generate up-front revenue, because they are still based on the inventory model of distribution, but they are not a significant source of revenue.

After that, movies go to On-Demand, followed later by Netflix. With each step down, there is a decrease in revenue, less up-front profit, and the studio becomes less engaged with generating sales.

For books, after paperback, we are seeing the e-books come up. It used to be there was nothing left after paperbacks.

Now we get to the problem of e-books!
And here's the problem: The publisher has no distributor for the e-books. There is no up-front revenue for the publisher. Nobody buys the rights (e.g. No Cable company will license them for On-Demand).

Nobody buys 10,000 copies to stock their shelves.

Nobody handles local marketing, or keeps track of the accounting for each individual sell.

For an e-book, the publisher is directly responsible for not only distributing the books via electronic media, but must now WAIT for the revenue to be generated by each individual sell, and account for each sell. Don't discount the accounting effort it takes when you adjust your business model from hundreds of huge sells per month, to hundreds of thousands of tiny sells per month.

This is not how our economy works. Producers and manufacturers, such as publishers, cannot wait for each individual sell. They cannot manage each sells, or the marketing, or absorb the cost that is traditionally split among thousands of distribution centers. Their model simply is not the same as the distributor. They rely on that up-front capital provided by inventory distribution, and cannot wait a year to be paid for their book sales.

There's the crux, folks.

So what about e-books?
Until we see e-book distributors pop up, which I am sure they will, same as Redbox and Netflix and On-Demand popped up for movie studios, we will continue to see publishers place little if any emphasis on their e-book sales. They will offer the e-book later, after the bulk of their inventory sells are depleted, but will not offer it with a great deal of zest and vigor.

There simply isn't any profit for them in it, and their model is not based on customer service. They are a manufacturer, not a distributor.

So what's the good news?
Just like the hand-held camera and Youtube have allowed independent movie makers to reach new audiences, e-books have opened a new door to readers and independently published authors. Quality will vary, but it already does, even in the print market.

For the print market, we'll see them focus more on non-fiction, educational, and children's books. These have not yet translated well to the e-book market. We'll also see higher-quality print books, since they can now shunt low-quality books directly to e-book distribution.

Traditional publishers may even create sub-departments, where they crank out pulp e-books of moderate quality in the hopes that one or two hit big. It won't cost much to develop the book, and there are plenty of starving writers to prey on.

What's the bad news?
There still isn't a good way of marketing your e-book, other than word-of-mouth. That will be true for independents as well as large publishing houses.

Furthermore, the quality of e-books is already corrupt, as it is rife with unedited, low-quality work. Readers will be challenged to find good books, while healthy authors will face stiff competition to reach said readers. As an e-reader myself, I can say we will be a more and more finicky crowd to please.

What's in the future?
I see independent e-book distributors. I see a shift in what's available in traditional bookstores -- less fiction, more everything else. I see higher quality print, with fewer and bigger superstar authors.

Anyway, what are your thoughts? Do you believe, as I do, that big publishers and paperback distributors will align with the e-market, and find a way to stay in business? What do you see in the future?


- Eric

Positive or Negative Advice: Which is better?

Which is better, positive or the negative feedback?

I'll tell you, since I ask. It's negative feedback.

I'm talking about proper negative feedback, the sort that helps you be a better writer.

For instance, my editor tore up my run-on sentences. She tore into my weaker constructs, and forced me to be precise and clear on my scenes.

It was the first time someone had given me negative feedback. Truly. People have said they don't like my writing, or said they didn't like that story, but that's not feedback -- that's an opinion. Fine, I say, you're ugly.

When folks tell me they like my writing, it inspires me to write more, and I can tell it's a clean spot in my work.

But you know the best compliment of all? It's when a fierce critic says nothing at all.

Take my editor. Please.

It was during my final edit for Out of the Great Black Nothing (see sidebar). My editor ripped up every chapter. It was a bloodbath. If you've ever been gutted like a fish, you'll know what I mean.

Except for one chapter.

It happened to be my favorite chapter of the book.

She read it through without a mark. She said nothing about it, except she moved to the next chapter and continued working that filet knife in and out, in and out.

Anyway, I stand by my belief that negative feedback is what makes you a better writer -- properly fed back, that is.

What do you think? Is negative feedback the best way to improve? Not just for writing, but for any activity you are trying to master.


- Eric

What About a DUAL POV?

So what do you think about this: A dual Point-of-View.

I'm experimenting on my latest piece with twins, using a "their" POV. I'm not sure how it will work, but I'm hoping that if/when I separate them, and the POV becomes his and hers, it will have a lot more impact, both on the characters and on the reader.

It will involve head-skipping between them, and maybe some omniscient POV. In fact, when I read it now, it sounds very omniscient. I want them to be symbiotic, since this is why they are so special -- they are two halves of one whole.

So long as a scene is written in a clear way, head-skipping and omni can (and do) work, even in modern stories. It's a YA-slash-Adult fiction, so I don't think I'll be judged too harshly for head-skipping or going omni.

What is your take? Have you ever experimented with a POV like this?

- Eric

Education v. Intelligence

It is my firm belief that education teaches the intelligence right out of us.

Be careful what you learn. Be careful from whom and from where you learn.

Question everything. Everything.

Remember that a "well-educated" person is only as smart as the second-year grad student who wrote the book for the professor so they could maintain their tenure.

I'm not saying you shouldn't educate yourself. It helps to share knowledge. The problem is this: two-thirds of a human is water. Water has no capacity for intelligence. So it stands to reason that two-thirds of everything you learn from your fellow water-bag is unintelligent. It's bunk.

I'm drinking Smart Water right now. I'm not learning a damned thing. I'm not sure I trust another flesh-bag of water to tell me what I need to think.

It's the sorting out of bad v. good learning that makes you intelligent, not the learning itself. Only one-third of everything you learn is valuable, statistically speaking.

Pick carefully.

And remember Edison and Einstein both abandoned traditional education. Einstein preferred to study on his own, and Edison was kicked out entirely as being too dull to learn.


- Eric

Note to self: Chill out!

This is a post regarding stress.

Stress often begins with money. We stress about money, because in today's society, we use currency to purchase food and shelter that allows us to survive.

And if you run out of money, you die!

At least, that's how it feels. More likely you will wind up in a smaller house, or apartment, or on your buddy's couch for a while.

If it isn't money, it's relationships. As a moderately social organism, humans require a fair amount of companionship. It stinks when you don't have a companion. You get lonely. You get bored.

And if you get lonely and bored, you die!

Not really, but that's how it feels sometimes, especially if your heart got broke all hard and stuff.

And if it isn't money, and it isn't a relationship, it's work.

Work is married to money, and they're in bed together, but when they have sex, work comes first and leaves money unsatisfied. Money, out of low self-esteem, cheats with Uncle Sam, but he's a user and a liar, full of empty promises and racked with venereal disease. So she seeks out creditors and bankers, who give her shiny things she thinks will bring comfort, but they nibble away at her until she's been turned from green paper into a sixteen-digit piece of plastic with a magnetic slide reader on the back.

And yet we beg for work when it's gone. Why?

Because without work, You will die!

So now I give you, and I give me, some advice that might save your life.

The first piece of advice is this: Breathe. Drink. Be comfortable.

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I say that, because there are only four things you need to survive: Air, water, shelter, food.

In that order, though water and shelter are often swapped. Note that FOOD is at the end of the list! How often we feed for comfort, eh.

Air is always the first thing you need. All human (and mammalian) life dies from one single cause: lack of oxygen to the brain.

So get some oxygen to your brain! Then drink some water. Then find a comfortable shelter, such as a couch or a fluffy bed.

Then get food, but only if you're hungry.


The second piece of advice is this: Enjoy.

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Do something you enjoy doing. I hit the gun range, or the gym, or take a nap or a walk. Yours may be a cup of tea, or splurge and get a massage!


The third piece of advice is this: Have lots of sex.

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This is easier said than done, folks. But if you have a willing partner, and you beg long enough, and offer something expensive in return, and convince her you will die without it, maybe she'll give in, just this once, if you hurry it up so she can get back to her game of Angry Birds.

Ah, the most wonderful words in any language: Fine. Lock the door.


The fourth piece of advice is this: Escape!

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It's about an escape, really. You might read a book, or play in the garden, or do what I do, watch a movie.

Nothing like a round of Zombieland or Beerfest to change your mood.


The fifth piece of advice is this: ??

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You tell me, but if all the above doesn't work, this is where I usually earn my MD and initiate the self-medication procedure. Stat.



- Eric

Fame, fortune, power! Gimme gimme!

So if any of you still believe that fame, fortune, or power can bring you happiness, I would rank you as either comatose or naive.

I have to assume that if you are reading this, you are not comatose. Which leaves only the latter, and if you are naive, then watch E! True Hollywood Stories, or watch The Aviator about Howard Hughes, or remember Elvis or Julius Caesar.

See, it's like this. I'm an engineer, and as an engineer, it's my job and my nature to look for correlations. While the data I have is anecdotal, I do make some conclusions based on what I've seen.

And what I have seen is this: There is no correlation between personal happiness and the following: how much money you make, how powerful you are, or how famous you become.

Maybe there is some correlation, as seen in this article: $75,000 Can Make You Happy. I'll give you that. If you make too little, you can stress about day-to-day basic needs.

But as you cross that threshold and start making huge bucks, you buy a bigger box in which to store more stuff. That's what George Carlin says: That's all your house is: a place to keep your stuff.

With all that said, I know many of my friends and fellow writers and fellow artists are after that all-powerful big-league signing bonus, a huge mansion, and your name as a household word.

You might not admit it, but that's kind of where you are angling. I admit it. I want some of that.

But I will say this: I really don't care about money. I have enough that I don't hurt, and not so much that I have to guard it and fess over it.

Fame never has suited me -- I prefer anonymity, to be honest.

Power has almost no power over me. With power comes great responsibility. Have you ever really thought about that quote? It's true. If you're the World President, then you have to worry about the entire world. Man. Can I get a capital-bold FUCK THAT!

Amen.

So if it isn't about fame, or money, or power, what is it about, then?

For me, it's about personal satisfaction. It's about entering a person's head and changing the way they think. It's not about Character Arc for me, but about ~READER~ Arc. I wrote about Reader Arcs a year ago, here: Reader Arcs.

I want the reader to be a little bit different when they put down my work. I want them to be a little bit better, a little bit more curious, a little bit more open.

That's what I want.

How about you? Why are you doing all this? What do you want, really?


- Eric

My excuses! What are ~yours~?

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Excuses excuses! We all have excuses. It's the old adage: Excuses and assholes, everyone has them.

So in that spirit, here are a few of my excuses, used for writing, working out, eating well, avoiding the drink, and being a responsible, mature, human male.

I'm tired!
Classic, right. I am tired. I'm exhausted right now. But that's no excuse. Get more sleep next time; take a pill; drink some coffee; but quit whining and get off your excuse! (Note: Excuse is synonymous with ~ass~, so, well, there you go, get off your excuse, see.)

It's boring!
Lots of things are boring. Sleep is one of them. So are vegetables. Sometimes when you do something boring, it's good for you. If it needs doing, do it. Quit making asses. (Note: Ass is synonymous with ~excuse~...)

I don't enjoy it!
Boy, now you sound like an old wife, don't you. Boo hoo. If it's something you said you would do, and you promised you'd do, do it. Believe me there is no greater satisfaction than doing something well that you hate. Cleaning the house is a classic example, with scrubbing the tub and shitter being the most-hated chores. It sure feels good to sit on a clean potty, now doesn't it.

I don't fee well...
Drink some juice and get to work. Slacker.

I'm too busy!
You're busy because you keep making assholes rather than finishing your projects! Get off your excuse, close out some actions, and you'll be surprised how un-busy you are in just one day.

I left my good brain at home!
My son used to say this when he was five or so. He said he had multiple brains, and sometimes he used the wrong one. For once, I can't argue with this excuse. I mean, if you have the wrong brain, there ain't much you can do about it.

All right, enough about me. What about you? What are your excuses du jour?

This post brought to you by Eric's inner voice, which right now is saying, Get me 1250 words today, slacker-boy!


- Eric

Politics and your image

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Here is the question: Should you post political thoughts on your blog?

What about in your writing? Your poems? Your songs?

Should your paintings or drawings or photographs be politically motivated?

The answer is simple: Only if you mean to.

If you insert your beliefs into your writing, do so with panache and subtlety and a great deal of intentional intent.

As an example, in the movie Blind Side, the character played by Tim McGraw makes this remark, after meeting the ultra-liberal Kathy Bates: "Who would've thought we'd have a black son before we knew a Democrat?"

I personally wasn't sure what to think about that line. I'm still not sure what to think about that line.

You might believe I am against bands who are anti-establishment, but there is one key rule they all follow: They are politically neutral in that they hate or love the country, not the people in it.

They do not force their audience to choose sides!

Green Day and Marylin Manson, for example, hate the system. Toby Keith sings songs about patriotism and the American way.

They express opposing beliefs without forcing the audience to choose sides.

They do not attack individuals, or specific groups such as Democrats or Republicans, Liberals or Conservatives.

You as the author (or artist) should always be on the same side as your reader. The person reading your blog, listening to your song, inspecting your artwork, watching your movie, has signed a silent contract that states you will not attack them.

Never -- NEVER -- force them to choose sides!

As an example of how ~not~ to express your political beliefs, I give you The Dixie Chicks and their attack on Bush. When they singled out Bush, they alienated their conservative fan base.

It only takes one post, one line, one concert, to ruin your career.

Be careful during this election year. The blood will boil. Resist the temptation to blog on politics, and certainly don't force your audience to choose between you and their beliefs. That's why we have Political Pundits (PP).

How about you? Are there political biases in your writing/artwork? Should authors/artists avoid becoming too politically polarized? Do you have more good or bad examples?


- Eric

When are you ~finished~ with your book?

Q: When are you finished with your book?

A: Not even when you die.

Many authors celebrate the completion of their novel after the first draft. A fine example of this fictionalization is Stephen King's Misery, where his MC lights a cigarette and has a glass of wine following the last page of his first draft.

I think we are all smart enough to know the first draft is not your finishing point.

But how about after your first revision?

Again, most of us know you'll at least need two good passes to produce a readable manuscript.

How about after the editor gets through destroying everything you wrote, gutting you like the little fishy you are and feeding your guts to the gulls and laughing as she rips out your spine!

Well, it might sound like you're finished, but you're not. If the book goes to publication, you're just getting started. See, you'll have marketing to work on, and readings, and reviews, and so forth.

So maybe you're finished with that book after it's been in print a few years, right?

Wrong.

Again, we'll go back to King and I'll mention that I only recently read his book 'salem's Lot.

That was his second book, originally published in 1975, and as you can see, he's still not finished with it!

Alright, what about this: You DIE.

Are you finished with your book then?

Nope. A fine example of this is Robert Heinlein's Stranger in a Strange Land.

His original draft had been cut from 220kw to 160kw.* After his death, they found his original in his archives, as submitted to the publisher, and released it as "THE ORIGINAL UNCUT VERSION of the bestselling classic."

So even if you die, you might not be finished with your book.

There have been endless rewrites of Dickens' A Christmas Carol, and of Shakespeare's plays, and of Homer's work, and you can keep going on and on and on if you like, but I feel my point is driven home.

The fact is this: You are ~never~ finished with your book. Your book is borne into the world and will live on with a life of its own.

As someone once said, I never finish my work. At some point, I just stop working on it.

How about you? Thoughts on this point? Do you feel like you are "finished" with one of your pieces?

- Eric

* Source: Stranger in a Strange Land forward, reprint 1991

Are babies just like drunk people?

Let us analyze that statement, just for fun. I have a baby, so it makes me wonder, see.

First off, I will challenge the reader to dispute that babies and drunks don't waddle the same waddle. It's a back-and-forth almost-tumble that makes you wonder if they aren't walking down the aisle of a bus going sixty down a bumpy winding backroad.

When they kiss, it's all slobbery.

Neither one is afraid to piss in public.

Everything is hilarious. Bodily function-noises -- e.g. the Zurburt or the Rasberry -- are fan favorites.

They want to ~touch~ everything.

Either one is prone to scream in the middle of Wal Mart.

I wouldn't trust either one to drive a car or a golf cart. That's a good one, eh!

Both throw-up on themselves and think nothing of it.

Both will walk through the house naked, or out into the yard for that matter.

You can't understand a dang thing either one says!

How about you? Any other similarities I missed?


- Eric

And finally we release "Out of the Great Black Nothing"

Finally, after a year in draft and edit, and two years in concept, I release my debut novel: Out of the Great Black Nothing

My author interview is here: Eric Trant Interview

I don't know what to say, other than I feel like I lost and gained something special. It's sort of like getting married, having a child, or losing your virginity. It's the end of one and the beginning of another.

I am a published author. How about that.


- Eric

What do you say when people ask?

So I went to a family reunion this weekend and guess what happened? Everyone asked about my writing.

They asked about work and the family, sure, but they wanted to know about my short stories and forthcoming novel.

What's it about? they all asked. Where can I buy it? Do you have business cards? Where is your website? When will it be released?

That's when I went Fudd on them and started stammering. I had no idea what to say!

It embarrassed me. I don't like discussing my work, because when I say it out loud, it sounds (to me) ridiculous.

God love my wife. She started talking me up, and hearing her talk relaxed me. Then I started talking easier about the story lines, and after a while I felt more like I was networking than visiting with family.

It was weird to hand out business cards to my family. But they took them, and I think they are genuinely excited about the book.

The business cards, of course, were for my business, not for my book and writing, and I looked as be-Fudd-led as I felt.

So I give you this as advice, as well as myself, regarding the arting of writing.

Get some business cards

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There's a thought, eh. I will probably generate a logo for myself. Speaking of which...

Logo?

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Not sure on this one. For me, yes, I will create a logo. If you do it yourself, keep it simple, with as few colors as possible, and don't go changing it every few weeks. Make sure you can zoom in or out without losing resolution. You will need Photoshop if you are serious about it, or you can find free logo companies online.

Know your long and short

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Be ready with a one-sentence blurb about your book. My blurb it this: It's about a redneck in a spacesuit who sits in a lawn chair and stares at the moon.

Then you can field questions after that little intro. I need to practice more.

Website and email

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If you don't already, get a website and an email. I use my business email, and I own the website www.EricTrant.com and redirect it here.

Have a central location for all your work

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I keep track of my work and publications right here on this blog. I try to make it easy for folks to find and purchase my work.

Be professional on your blog

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Too late for that one, eh.


Anyway, enough about all that. I need to polish my marketing and conversation skills so I am better prepared in the future.

How about you? Have you been taken off-guard about your current career and dream pursuits? Do you stammer when they ask what it's about and how it's going?

Buh buh buh, buh-da, That's all, folks.


- Eric

How much money do you need, anyway?

Man, I got this one figgered to the penny. I need $4.00 mil. That's it for life.

I calculate with the cost of living adjustments, I would need just that much to survive to eighty-something, and by then I should be good and dead, assuming I continue to follow the American diet and breathe Dallas air.

$4 mil. Anything after that is fluff on my cake, and fluff only makes you fat.

I see these corporate guys/gals making hundreds of $mils and I think, Man, how many zeroes do you need to be happy?

Six? Seven? Eight? NINE! TEN like Gates and those Middle Eastern Princes with their diamond-studded Mercedes?

Damn.

You realize, of course, that zero is a physical representation of a NULL, and that it has no mathematical value or function, other than relocating the decimal. It is, in fact, living proof that man does not understand the universe, because there is no such thing as NULL. God did not create a NULL. He laughs at zero as I laugh at infinity and mankind's infinite ignorance about its own mathematical and scientific dysfunction.

We are wrong, way wrong, and I laugh with God.

Ha.

Therefore, no matter how many zeroes are in your income, it is still a NULL. It is more and more nothing in your offshore bank account.

If I had $4 mil, I'd pay off my house and what little other debt I have and stash back the rest. I would be free to retire, see, that's the point.

I would drive my old Tahoe into the ground -- and for you greenies out there, hush up yo mouf in advance. I know it's a gas guzzler. I figger the faster we burn it, the faster we'll learn it's true value. You only miss it when it's gone.

What was it the Indian said about fish? We'll only worry about over-fishing after we eat the last fish.

Anyway, have you thought about how much you need? What is your cut-off point? Do you have one? If you don't, you'd better figure it out, because you don't want to be one of those corporate greed-olies who think they need bigger and bigger boxes in which to store their stuff.

George Carlin said that: A house is a box with a lid on it in which you store your stuff.

Me, at $4 mil, I open my own local brewery, work in my underpants from home and in my brewery, and if you drink in my brewery, you drink without your pants, because that's how I roll. I drink what I don't sell, and sell what I don't drink.

I will call it Club Garson for personal reasons, and we will play indoor soccer on the off-days. Pantsless.

No garage full of Maseratis and Porches and other unpronounceable cars could ever be better than that.

Is it Porche or Porch? I sit on one and drink and talk to the moon, and on the other I run off a cliff and burst into flames. Which one, tell me, do you prefer?

Plus, my wife is hotter than most rich guy's wives, and she loved me way before I had $4 mil.

In fact, I have no idea why she loves me, but she is gorgeous, and you just can't buy that, now can you.

What's that limit, folks? Where is your cutoff?


- Eric

What do you want as a writer?

What is it you want, as a writer that is?

Do you want money? Fame? Notoriety?

Me, I'll tell you what I want, since you asked nicely.

I want to be loved.

I brought the cheese, you bring the crackers, eh.

But really, that's what I want. I want to be that lingering aftertaste, that euphoric moment after you wake up from a vivid dream.

I want to be one of those authors who people discuss fondly, and say, Man, I liked that story. It resonated. I related to that character. Remember that one scene where the woman sewed her arm back on, man that was cool.

I don't know if that will bring me anything other than internal satisfaction. If so, that's fine, I suppose.

See, I mentioned in an older post that one of my readers gave me a statue of Percy Freebottom, a character I created who is all dreamer, and all he dreams of is writing his name in the moon. The reader bought me a 12" statue of a spaceman, and had the name Freebottom stenciled on the lapel pocket.

He said when he and his wife were at a baseball game on a full moon night, his wife looked up at the moon and said, I wonder if Percy wrote his name yet?

That's what I want, folks. I want to resonate. I want to vibrate deep in your cockles.

Anyway, what is it you want, and are you finding it yet? I am. One reader at a time, I'm finding it just fine.


- Eric

Candyland's Post

Just wanted to say how amazed I am at the outpouring of goodwill over at Candyland. I've been following her for a while, and she's humorous, insightful, well-written, and deeply honest. There aren't many bloggers who could post what she posted without sounding ingenuous.

Candyland: Lower than a rapper's pants

I'd also bring up Mr. 3QE himself, Matthew MacNish, The QQQE, for drawing in so many people to Candace's place. Nice job, Matt.

Go read her post. I've read it quite a few times. She's having trouble with her new baby and could use a little hope thrown her direction. And couldn't we all use that sometimes!

Here's a quote to get you started:

From pregnancy, he's been a needy baby. It started with the loss of fluid near his head causing me to be in and out of the hospital (= monumental bills piling up), then he died at birth. Thankfully was brought back to us but it was not without issues. He's had problems with different formulas and medications which they attribute to reflux. After we got our sweet Sully home from the hospital, his condition has only worsened.














- Eric

Back to the HOUSE OF PAIN!

So I bought a Kindle last week. I know, I've railed on the little electro-beast, how it is actually more expensive and less convenient than a book, but now that I went over, now that I indulged, now that I dropped $200 bucks on an Amazon Kindle 3G, I have to admit that I love that little knucker.

It hasn't left my side. I'm afraid I'll leave it in the potty and my son will drop it in the toilet. He's one year old next week. My wife warned me, she said, You better not leave that Kindle in the bathroom like you did your books. Daz (that's our son) is going to drop it in the toilet.

So I try not to leave the Kindle in the potty. I think I'll miss that the most, leaving books laying around the house, next to the bed, at my desk, in the car.

But I was wrong about the convenience of a Kindle. Boy was I wrong. I downloaded some free books from the local library and finally bought the first book in the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo series. I returned the other three library books after the first chapter -- the first few pages, actually, I didn't make it any farther -- but I did make it through an old HG book called The Island of Doctor Moreau. I forgot how creepy that book is.

BACK TO THE HOUSE OF PAIN! ARE WE NOT MEN!

The point is, I'm hooked on the e-book. I'm not sure how short or long-lived this little obsession may be -- perhaps the novelty will wear off after I drop it and it shatters into a hundred tiny Kindle-bits, each bit worth approximately $75 USD, with one large piece worth just over a $100.

Anyway. Off to read my new Kindle! Maybe now I can finally get caught up on some of Roland Yeoman's books. Dude, you are a writing machine! (He's on Amazon, FYI, just over 10 books and counting.)

- Eric

An Honest Lie Vol 3: Justifiable Hypocrisy

So the latest Honest Lie short story anthology is on sale. You can't vote for me, but poke around and VOTE for Donna Hole or Stephanie Loree here. The author with the most votes gets a BOOK DEAL! If you buy a book from one of their portals, they get more points. Click their name to see an excerpt and buy, and click mine (but buy from one of their portals) if you want to see a bit about my short story (which is not that short) titled Melvin Gee's Short Trip to Hell.

Read through some of the author interviews here: Life at OHP.

Anyway, now I need to update my links on the side. This publishing crap is a lot of work!

Click the picture. I do believe the kid is GUARDING the playground, not attacking it. This is a common scene in third-world countries.

Also, I should have my full-length novel, Out of the Great Black Nothing, in print this quarter. It's about a redneck in a space suit.


- Eric

When Life Imitates Art: Larf?

This post is about dead children, specifically your dead children, my dead children.

(That's my son on the right, in the picture, shopping for Halloween costumes.)

I'm not sure why I got the hankering, but in early September the worms started digging and what they dug up was this: A bunch of little bones.

I'm talking shoe-box sized bones and tiny skulls with an open fontanel.

Early September, mind you. I suppose it's the thought of winter that brings in those thoughts. God, I wish it were winter already. I'm sick of the heat, and we need some rain in Dallas. (God, if you read this blog, SEND RAIN!)

Anyway. The worms dug up the muck and I started a new novel, one that had been incubating for about nine years, and it sho-nuff has some dead children in it.

It's full of death and suffering. Not in a depressing way (I hope), but in a realistic and heartfelt way.

Now, onto the Life Imitating Art subject, or Larf, as I'll call it. That's Larf, you'll all say one day, Larf's a bitch, Get a Larf, meaning Life + Art.

Get it?

I will, of course, receive no credit for coining this term. And Larf goes on.

So my dad died last week. Don't worry, he didn't ~stay~ dead, but he was dead as your granny's virginity for about two minutes.

Some big black guy, I didn't see him, broke my father's chest pumping blood manually with his heart. Pop's heart stopped after he had some stents put in. He was in the ICU already, otherwise he'd be in a nice box today, wondering why the hell his lips were sewn up to his gums.

(Pop is alive and well. They got his heart beating and it's beating still. Sorry if I confused anyone!)

Larf, eh. I'd been writing about death for about a month, thinking about it, and then it glove-slaps me in the face and touts me.

But wait, there's more!

A neighbor of mine lost his daughter. She died and stayed dead. She was 25 and had a masters degree, a magna cum laude track record, and cancer that ravaged both the first and second livers she tried.

I'll share with you someone else's Larf, which is here, which is beautiful:

---

More Importantly. It's Annie's blog, Quiet Commotion.

---

I read this and like so many of Annie's ad hoc poems, it scraped my neck just at the base of my skull, there in the primal parts we share with birds and lizards and cavemen alike. True words, she wrote, true and old as granny's virginity.

Why do I think that last part is so damned funny?

I'll also share something I wrote in my current piece. It's a POV I tried out in a couple of scenes, see if it fits. It's second-person present tense. It seemed appropriate.

I wrote this about a week before all the death (both permanent and temporary) around me.

---

Nothing prepares you for the loss of your child.

When you get pregnant, out come the doctors and nurses and Lamaze specialists. They show you how to change diapers, how to nurse, how to push and breathe during labor. They tell you what the baby should eat and warn you against the toxicity of eggs and honey and bovine milk, seemingly benign things unless you stuff them into your little baby.

There are stores dedicated to clothing your baby. Entire sections of the local grocery are filled with baby necessities, fluids for when they are sick, bibs for when they drool, plastic seats for when they ride in your car. Friends and neighbors pour into your yard when you release blue or pink balloons into the sky and announce your baby's gender. People clap and cry and cheer your baby's arrival.

It is different, though, when you lose your baby. People grow hushed and cover their mouth and turn away. Sure, they send food for a few days, but after that gesture, afterwards, after the afterlife where there is no life after, after you find the baby stiff in the crib for no good Goddamned reason, after you find him nose-down in the kiddy pool in a few inches of water, after you find her behind the couch with a marble in her throat, after you find him on the dining room floor with a bullet in his head. After the friends and neighbors and family send food and maybe attend the funeral, if there is one, because sometimes, if the baby dies in the womb, they don't even do that.

After all that you are a pariah. You are a topic of conversation. These conversations begin with the words, "Have you heard about," and end with the words, "I can't imagine."

All the stuff in-between those two phrases is a garbled mess of nods and hand-waving.

There are no classes about how you breathe. There are no doctors or nurses who rush to your side to guide you. There are no shelves in the store dedicated to burial clothes. Hell, there aren't even greeting cards, maybe one that reads, "So sorry you lost your toddler down Old Man Johnston's well. Better luck next time!"

People don't discuss it with you. They discuss it all right, but not with you, not anywhere near you. They shun you as if you are diseased, because you are diseased.

You are ostracized and condemned and moved to the other side, wherever the hell that is, probably near hell because that's how it feels. You are one of them, one of the others, one of those who lost their kid, so tragic, and have you heard about, and I can't imagine.

God gives you no reprieve. He allowed His son to be mutilated and killed and so great is God's love that He gave His only son so that you may be saved. Your son died for no greater purpose. He died for no reason at all, and yet you are charged to bear God's deepest grief.

You are not God. No one worships your dead son, and let's not forget God didn't handle the grieving all that well Himself. After three days He couldn't take it anymore, and He raised His son back to life.

Ah, it's good to be God.

---

Anyway. Larf it up Fuzzball, Larf all you want, Larf with me not at me.

I have a wire crossed somewhere, you know. I tend to laugh when I should cry. There's a picture of me in the ER with a bone sticking up from my shoulder (not quite poking through the skin, but almost), and I'm smiling like I just won a six-pack of Shiner 102 beer.

I have a hard time crying, see. All I can think is Larf Larf Larf when it all goes to shit.

Maybe Larf is a better term, eh.

Have you ever had a Larf moment, where something you wrote came to pass? Do you look back on your old words with new experience and think, Dang, that was spot-on? (or Dang, what an idiot I was!) Did the second-person present tense work?

- Eric

PS. My first wife miscarried our second attempt, about two months in, after we had already told everyone and scheduled a sonogram and named her Hannah. I had to flush my burger-meat daughter down the shitter, because that's where she came out. I didn't laugh at all that night, and I don't laugh now thinking on it. I dredge up that pain when I write, and God help me if it had happened when she was 7 years and not 7 weeks. In all seriousness, heartfelt prayers for anyone who's lost a child of any age, be it in the womb or out.

Orphans: Why do we love them?

So I'm writing a novel with my kids. We're in the fun phase -- drafting characters and brainstorming ideas.

I call them idears, and we keep them in a black book I call My Little Ocean. The Ocean used to be pocket-sized. Now it's a leather-bound journal.

Anyway, we're drafting the characters, and I keep coming back to orphanizing the two kids.

See, you need two kids, a boy and a girl, same as I have at the house. I'm not making them twins. The girl is older by a year.

And I keep killing off their parents. Sometimes one or the other parent is alive, but usually the kids are somehow abandoned.

And I got to thinking how common that is.

Luke Skywalker was an orphan. So was Harry Potter. Little Orphan Annie and the kid in Great Expectations were orphans. Superman was an orphan. Megamind and Metroman were orphans. Percy Jackson was semi-orphaned, had an estranged father.

I could go on, but you get the point so go on your own dang self. The thing is, we orphanize our children in YA lit.

Why is that, I wonder?

I still don't have the answer, but I'm beginning to let that question fester. I look back at my own stories and realize I have a novella about orphans. Never thought about it.

There's something romantic about an orphan, something magical, something that gets the gears turning and makes us automatically relate to them.

Why do we relate to kids without parents? Why is it so easy to demonize step-parents and victimize step-children? I have no freaking clue. You tell me.

But we do relate. Maybe it's that coming-of-age thing, where we all sever from our parents and become ourselves.

Oh, Spider-Man was orphaned, too. So was Batman, and in fact his orphanization caused him to morph into the Dark Knight.

Gads, that's an easy thing to think up orphaned heroes, isn't it.

You tell ME! Why are orphans so common and desirable in literature!

Meanwhile, I'll be drafting my own set of orphans. They have [expletive] eyes. Shh. Don't tell anyone.

- Eric