Riding the Social Escalator Up
It's a strange sensation, that of signing one of your books for someone of whom you are a fan. Just saying... Sleep well, my minions.
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Fourth Street Recap Part 2
(Wherein actual namedropping happens...) Just about every time I walk into a convention these days, I do so with a sort of self-reassurance about me. I reason that, while I am mostly just some other guy at a con, I also bring some creator-cred to any proverbial table at which I might sit. This doesn't usually last long, for I am invariably reminded that I am not, in fact, all that big a deal. Take my belief that I'm one of those witty storyteller-types around whom people gather to be amused and entertained: That only works up until Steven Brust comes into the room. My sense of accomplishment over the little book that comes out next week, which is number three in the Rob Callahan Library, doesn't hold up when I'm sitting next to Jane Yolen. Oh well, at least I've still got a clever blog and an online presence with a bit of a following... until I run into Teresa Nielsen Hayden in a room party. *sigh* Well, I can still manage to be friendly and engaging with total strangers in sharp contrast to my online persona, right? "And by the way, Rob, would you like to meet Warren Ellis?" But at least my novel thumbs its nose at genre conventions while simultaneously redefining them. (COUGH!)Lyda Morehouse(COUGH!) Can I at least get a humble, clever self-deprecating charm? Anyone? Jo Walton?
When all is said and done, I guess I'll have to hope someone appreciates my dark, enigmatic mystique. Then I remember that time I ran into Neil Gaiman at a Minicon...
(Wherein actual namedropping happens...) Just about every time I walk into a convention these days, I do so with a sort of self-reassurance about me. I reason that, while I am mostly just some other guy at a con, I also bring some creator-cred to any proverbial table at which I might sit. This doesn't usually last long, for I am invariably reminded that I am not, in fact, all that big a deal. Take my belief that I'm one of those witty storyteller-types around whom people gather to be amused and entertained: That only works up until Steven Brust comes into the room. My sense of accomplishment over the little book that comes out next week, which is number three in the Rob Callahan Library, doesn't hold up when I'm sitting next to Jane Yolen. Oh well, at least I've still got a clever blog and an online presence with a bit of a following... until I run into Teresa Nielsen Hayden in a room party. *sigh* Well, I can still manage to be friendly and engaging with total strangers in sharp contrast to my online persona, right? "And by the way, Rob, would you like to meet Warren Ellis?" But at least my novel thumbs its nose at genre conventions while simultaneously redefining them. (COUGH!)Lyda Morehouse(COUGH!) Can I at least get a humble, clever self-deprecating charm? Anyone? Jo Walton?
When all is said and done, I guess I'll have to hope someone appreciates my dark, enigmatic mystique. Then I remember that time I ran into Neil Gaiman at a Minicon...
Rockstar Storytellers, June 23rd 2009
Here's the clip of the bit Allegra and I did on Tuesday. I've got the whole 2 hour show recorded, but my cheap camcorder didn't play nice with the low light, so I've been trying to clean the video up with little luck. I think I'll just post the jerky video and be done with it. Look for the whole show over on my youtube.
Here's the clip of the bit Allegra and I did on Tuesday. I've got the whole 2 hour show recorded, but my cheap camcorder didn't play nice with the low light, so I've been trying to clean the video up with little luck. I think I'll just post the jerky video and be done with it. Look for the whole show over on my youtube.
Links
I'm just about to run into the theater and prepare for tonight's show. No time for proper blogging, but I did happen across some interesting articles online today:
NASA Volcano Image Shows Atmospheric Shockwave
Next Star Trek Could Feature Yeoman Rand
It's Buffy's Fault That Vampires Are Weak Now
I'm just about to run into the theater and prepare for tonight's show. No time for proper blogging, but I did happen across some interesting articles online today:
NASA Volcano Image Shows Atmospheric Shockwave
Next Star Trek Could Feature Yeoman Rand
It's Buffy's Fault That Vampires Are Weak Now
Tonight's Show Gets Notice
Secrets of the City gave tonight's show a nice mention here. Those of you still thinking about attending can get more information at the Rockstar Storytellers website and call ahead with the codeword "ROCKSTAR" to get two-for-one pricing on the handful of remaining seats.
Secrets of the City gave tonight's show a nice mention here. Those of you still thinking about attending can get more information at the Rockstar Storytellers website and call ahead with the codeword "ROCKSTAR" to get two-for-one pricing on the handful of remaining seats.
4th Street Recap Part One
I'm still at the convention, but I've decided to sit the last panel out for various reasons. Among them, this event strikes me more as a writers' retreat than a con. If you're here, you're going to panels. You're taking detailed notes on the topic at hand. You're in a room with sixty other people, most of whom are also writers, and you're listening intently to people who have worked in the industry for as long as you've been alive. So prevalent is the tendency to record every last bit of dropped knowledge that I saw one of my fellow new writers at room party with her notebook, still taking notes on a conversation happening between some of the day's panelists, long after all the programming had given way to activities more conducive to drinking and flirting. That all said, I'm a little tired and burned out from all of the learning and I've had to give myself a break.
Let me also say that spending a weekend in the near exclusive company of people who've made decades-long livings writing science fiction and fantasy novels has got me noticing just how differently I've laid out my own path. More on that later.
I've come to the conclusion that I deprive myself of a lot of good reading experiences because I don't like a given writer's presentation. I blame this on Douglas Adams because the first influential novel I read when I was young (not the first ever, which was a few years earlier, but the first with a lasting impact) was Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and, as these were the formative years, I've tended to really appreciate those others who wrote in a similar style (which most don't) and anything put forward more simply, straightforwardly or sensibly just failed to live up to that bar. (Here, I think, a few of you have probably just gleaned a new understanding of my own narrative style.) I've also come to the conclusion that I've been wrong to do so. So, in realizing the unnecessary barrier I've built up between myself and a vast body of literature, I'm now intent on tearing it down a bit, or at least scaling it to get a peek over at what's on the other side.
The other indie writer here (or nearly indie, which is to say her resume boasts both self- and trad-published works of note) has a serial online that I think is worth checking out, so go and have a look at The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland In A Ship Of Her Own Making by Catherynne M. Valente and, while you're there, tell her Rob sent you.
I'm still at the convention, but I've decided to sit the last panel out for various reasons. Among them, this event strikes me more as a writers' retreat than a con. If you're here, you're going to panels. You're taking detailed notes on the topic at hand. You're in a room with sixty other people, most of whom are also writers, and you're listening intently to people who have worked in the industry for as long as you've been alive. So prevalent is the tendency to record every last bit of dropped knowledge that I saw one of my fellow new writers at room party with her notebook, still taking notes on a conversation happening between some of the day's panelists, long after all the programming had given way to activities more conducive to drinking and flirting. That all said, I'm a little tired and burned out from all of the learning and I've had to give myself a break.
Let me also say that spending a weekend in the near exclusive company of people who've made decades-long livings writing science fiction and fantasy novels has got me noticing just how differently I've laid out my own path. More on that later.
I've come to the conclusion that I deprive myself of a lot of good reading experiences because I don't like a given writer's presentation. I blame this on Douglas Adams because the first influential novel I read when I was young (not the first ever, which was a few years earlier, but the first with a lasting impact) was Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and, as these were the formative years, I've tended to really appreciate those others who wrote in a similar style (which most don't) and anything put forward more simply, straightforwardly or sensibly just failed to live up to that bar. (Here, I think, a few of you have probably just gleaned a new understanding of my own narrative style.) I've also come to the conclusion that I've been wrong to do so. So, in realizing the unnecessary barrier I've built up between myself and a vast body of literature, I'm now intent on tearing it down a bit, or at least scaling it to get a peek over at what's on the other side.
The other indie writer here (or nearly indie, which is to say her resume boasts both self- and trad-published works of note) has a serial online that I think is worth checking out, so go and have a look at The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland In A Ship Of Her Own Making by Catherynne M. Valente and, while you're there, tell her Rob sent you.
Good Neighbors (or The Good Life, for You English Types)
My friends Joe and Liza are the innovative type I tend so often to attract and befriend and they've now harnessed their smarts and creativity to reap a new project down at their Mankato farm. Well-known for the tasty, organic food they produce, the duo have begun selling shares of not just the product, but of the process itself. More from the Mankato Free Press:
"While they've always had a good size garden, this is the first year the Domeiers are selling shares in the garden. They have more than 20 families signed on. They'd previously direct marketed their livestock via the Internet. The grass-fed cows, goats and sheep feed on the 30 acres of grassland pasture that makes up most of the farm."
Those of you who have been with me a while will probably recognize Liza as the proprietor of Wily Wren Fiber Studio, who has generously supplied me with two very fine hats and, for those of you inclined toward making things from animal hair, offers a fine selections of wools, yarns and other such things about which I know too little to describe with any accuracy. That said, direct all your questions to her.
My friends Joe and Liza are the innovative type I tend so often to attract and befriend and they've now harnessed their smarts and creativity to reap a new project down at their Mankato farm. Well-known for the tasty, organic food they produce, the duo have begun selling shares of not just the product, but of the process itself. More from the Mankato Free Press:
"While they've always had a good size garden, this is the first year the Domeiers are selling shares in the garden. They have more than 20 families signed on. They'd previously direct marketed their livestock via the Internet. The grass-fed cows, goats and sheep feed on the 30 acres of grassland pasture that makes up most of the farm."
Those of you who have been with me a while will probably recognize Liza as the proprietor of Wily Wren Fiber Studio, who has generously supplied me with two very fine hats and, for those of you inclined toward making things from animal hair, offers a fine selections of wools, yarns and other such things about which I know too little to describe with any accuracy. That said, direct all your questions to her.
The Plain Stupid, Boss! The Plain Stupid!
No longer satisfied with her merely ridiculous wardrobe, Kimberley Vlaminck elected for something just slightly more ridiculous than it is permanent: A set of tattoos across the side of her face. Invoking what we will politely call buyer's remorse, she's had a chance to look at her new markings and has decided that they are not, in fact, something she should have gotten scarred and inked into herself.
Which, so far, is probably a fairly common regret among first-time tattees, but is made notable by her assertions that she was unaware that she'd actually gotten this ink. To hear young Kimberly tell the tale, she went in and asked for three stars to be etched into her face (a questionable enough request as it is) and she then fell asleep, while getting the three requested, then woke later to discover the guy had adorned her with fifty-six of the little, shining buggers... Once again, she fell asleep while some dude tilled her flesh and sowed ink seeds within the tiny furrows.
Having slept through the process, she now states that she was taken advantage of and she's suing for 8500 quid to get them removed. Truth be told, I've met a few folks with facial ink (I lived in Uptown, where it's unavoidable) and I never found it particularly bothersome, but if I were forced to interact with anyone wearing that belt buckle, I'd gnaw my own eyes out in an attempt to unsee it. So, should she win her lawsuit and walk away that much richer, I'd prefer she spent it on some fashion magazines and a new wardrobe. A lot of people have tattoos for which they have to explain and apologize later in life, but no one in their right mind dresses like that beyond the age of fourteen.
No longer satisfied with her merely ridiculous wardrobe, Kimberley Vlaminck elected for something just slightly more ridiculous than it is permanent: A set of tattoos across the side of her face. Invoking what we will politely call buyer's remorse, she's had a chance to look at her new markings and has decided that they are not, in fact, something she should have gotten scarred and inked into herself.Which, so far, is probably a fairly common regret among first-time tattees, but is made notable by her assertions that she was unaware that she'd actually gotten this ink. To hear young Kimberly tell the tale, she went in and asked for three stars to be etched into her face (a questionable enough request as it is) and she then fell asleep, while getting the three requested, then woke later to discover the guy had adorned her with fifty-six of the little, shining buggers... Once again, she fell asleep while some dude tilled her flesh and sowed ink seeds within the tiny furrows.
Having slept through the process, she now states that she was taken advantage of and she's suing for 8500 quid to get them removed. Truth be told, I've met a few folks with facial ink (I lived in Uptown, where it's unavoidable) and I never found it particularly bothersome, but if I were forced to interact with anyone wearing that belt buckle, I'd gnaw my own eyes out in an attempt to unsee it. So, should she win her lawsuit and walk away that much richer, I'd prefer she spent it on some fashion magazines and a new wardrobe. A lot of people have tattoos for which they have to explain and apologize later in life, but no one in their right mind dresses like that beyond the age of fourteen.
Talent Is As Talent Does
My friend Christian posted some abandoned designs of his on facebook. All of them are, of course, made of awesome, but he somehow managed to cram these two so full of awesome that it practically squirts out the strained seams.
My friend Christian posted some abandoned designs of his on facebook. All of them are, of course, made of awesome, but he somehow managed to cram these two so full of awesome that it practically squirts out the strained seams.
The Fleeting Illusion of Brand Experience
There's a nice post on branding and marketing at the zeus jones blog. I struggle with this sort of thing a lot, although on a much smaller scale than say, Pepsi or Blackwater, as I walk to line between selling myself and selling my work to an audience.
There's a nice post on branding and marketing at the zeus jones blog. I struggle with this sort of thing a lot, although on a much smaller scale than say, Pepsi or Blackwater, as I walk to line between selling myself and selling my work to an audience.