...that's what I'm working on now! It's the tentative name of a mini-collection of new poetry -- both free verse and rhyming -- coming in a month or so to all eReaders and PC/Mac/whatever. It'll be $1 USD and have probably 20-30 poems depending on how their lengths unfold. But no illustrations this time around, because of compatibility with eReaders and because I'd like to take a more direct route to your brain now anyway, if you'll kindly creak open your skull.
And for people who like physical books, the current plan is to release three or four digital collections like this fella and then make a print anthology of them available on Amazon.com. Somewhere under $10 I'm hoping. Somewhere within the year I'm hoping. Shipping may not be great for outside the states (that includes me!) but I'll explore other options as well.
So, I'll keep you updated on that. I'd be thrilled to sell anything at all really, with no self-deprecation intended. I'm glad there are some people who already follow what I do, but this is uphill territory regardless.
In the meantime, I spent a good juicy chunk of February writing a short story for a contest in the Toronto Star, a newspaper around here. When my girlfriend and I went to drop it off (on deadline day, naturally), the box was stuffed full of envelopes. One was even inexplicably housed in a hamster cage by the reception desk. The competition was streaming in and out the door, and while they looked like nice people, let's hope hope they are all awful writers.
I have mixed feelings about the story I wrote, which ended up being a kind of fairy tale somehow, but it's done and it was fun to flail madly at a deadline again.
Oh,
and a week ago, my sister's cat vomited a rubber band.
It was kind of cute.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Shorts
I've always leaned towards writing shorter things. They're like gunshots! They have to pack a lot into a little, or the bullet just sputters down into a penny at your feet. But if you get it right, you can take aim at your favourite organ and notch up a quick kill. I do really appreciate the kinda slow burn pandemic that only longer material can provide. But for my own work, I prefer assassination over annihilation.
It comes from the weight of brainstorming. If nothing else, I'm good at seeing many alternate paths and directions that any particular idea can take. That said, it's usually too many. More than half of the diverging paths are stupid dead-ends, but at least I can see the options. This works out well enough in small projects: there are a limited number of stops to the destination, so at least the convoluted network of good and bad roads are all in the same city. It's still an agonizing process in which I can dwell on a single word in a sentence for hours, but there are only so many sentences to torture. And if some serendipitous asteroid blasts the whole bastard to bits and reveals a better approach -- which happens again and again -- a two-thousand-word death count is just collateral damage.
I've tried longer projects, but they always feel like a giant chess tournament in my head. There are too many players, too many pieces, too many alternate routes any single game can take. Ideas clash at every move, every board, and nerds get into slow fistfights where they stroke their chins between puffy puffy cotton ball punches. When an asteroid hits, everyone dies and is simply relieved.
Of course, I might just need to get better at organizing my thoughts. But for now, let's keep it short.
It comes from the weight of brainstorming. If nothing else, I'm good at seeing many alternate paths and directions that any particular idea can take. That said, it's usually too many. More than half of the diverging paths are stupid dead-ends, but at least I can see the options. This works out well enough in small projects: there are a limited number of stops to the destination, so at least the convoluted network of good and bad roads are all in the same city. It's still an agonizing process in which I can dwell on a single word in a sentence for hours, but there are only so many sentences to torture. And if some serendipitous asteroid blasts the whole bastard to bits and reveals a better approach -- which happens again and again -- a two-thousand-word death count is just collateral damage.
I've tried longer projects, but they always feel like a giant chess tournament in my head. There are too many players, too many pieces, too many alternate routes any single game can take. Ideas clash at every move, every board, and nerds get into slow fistfights where they stroke their chins between puffy puffy cotton ball punches. When an asteroid hits, everyone dies and is simply relieved.
Of course, I might just need to get better at organizing my thoughts. But for now, let's keep it short.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Fallout of Educational Brain Explosion
I was a teacher in training, and then my head blew up. I'm not the steadiest skinny chinese man to begin with, so with the germ warfare, insomnia, endless workload and screaming children, pop pop pop went my skull.
Near the beginning I knew it wasn't really something suited to my personality type (dysfunctional), but the prospect of actually being a useful person with tangible worth made me stick to it. Plus, this wasn't an explosion without its charms.
I'll absolutely miss my kids. They were funny, crazy, loud, smart and all-around endearing. And since these are Grade 3 students we're talking about, there was an especially paternal aspect to my role with them. It hurt to leave. I also met some already inspiring teachers and people in the program. They were awesome comrades on the front line.
But I've been picking up the pieces of my head over the last couple months. Unfortunately, it kept exploding in the process. Other insane and sad things happened, but it's all helped me face up to which pieces I really want to keep and what I really want to do with my tiny grenade life.
It struck me that for all these years of holding on so tightly to the dream of being a writer, I never even tried to do it. I was too afraid to ease my grip and let it take its baby steps, because I wasn't convinced it could even learn to walk. So that's what I'm trying to do now. At least for a while, at least once, and then I can go be practical again.
This new blog, complete with new ridiculous name, will serve as the headquarters for these writing adventures. Thanks for reading, whether a little or a lot.
Near the beginning I knew it wasn't really something suited to my personality type (dysfunctional), but the prospect of actually being a useful person with tangible worth made me stick to it. Plus, this wasn't an explosion without its charms.
I'll absolutely miss my kids. They were funny, crazy, loud, smart and all-around endearing. And since these are Grade 3 students we're talking about, there was an especially paternal aspect to my role with them. It hurt to leave. I also met some already inspiring teachers and people in the program. They were awesome comrades on the front line.
But I've been picking up the pieces of my head over the last couple months. Unfortunately, it kept exploding in the process. Other insane and sad things happened, but it's all helped me face up to which pieces I really want to keep and what I really want to do with my tiny grenade life.
It struck me that for all these years of holding on so tightly to the dream of being a writer, I never even tried to do it. I was too afraid to ease my grip and let it take its baby steps, because I wasn't convinced it could even learn to walk. So that's what I'm trying to do now. At least for a while, at least once, and then I can go be practical again.
This new blog, complete with new ridiculous name, will serve as the headquarters for these writing adventures. Thanks for reading, whether a little or a lot.
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