Lake Sammamish
Today, as I was driving by the lake on the way to work, the rising sun was peeking out of the clouds over the evergreen laden mountains and hitting the water, illuminating the mist rising from the surface.
Such a pretty little sight, one that tugged at me, a serene landscape as there ever was—such is a drive to work in the Pacific Northwest.
I used to keep a camera in the car, to take a picture of such things, because taking pictures is what I used to do. Last year I took it out.
Why?
That is a good question and for awhile I did not know. I came to realize my energy as an artist was limited and I choose to direct it towards writing.
My relationship with readers is so important to me—it is my lifeblood. When you read the first paragraph in this post, what did you picture in your mind?
Was it what I saw, or was it something better?
There is something about a well-composed photograph that captures a moment or is akin to a painting without paint. I do not belittle these works of art.
But I am greedy. I want more. I want the imagination, your experiences.
Perhaps you like crime fiction. There in the lake floats a body, picked at by the crows. Far from wearing Pacific Northwest attire for the outdoors, this corpse was wearing an expensive Italian suit. A sheriff boat is approaching the man, a tired deputy who wanted to go home earlier but had to gas up the skiff. Hauling the body in, his life will never be the same, for he recognizes the man, even in his bloated form.
Or, maybe you like science fiction. The lake is bereft of houses, development. The people who lived here long ago are all gone. Indeed, the area is almost empty—except for the helmsman. She landed nearby in her small, whisper ship. The lake looked pretty, the planet seemingly undeveloped. A nice place to die, she thinks, as she walks along the edge of the lake. But she realizes that the trail she is walking on is no game trail, rather the remnants of some road. She has to sit and catch her breath. Who lived here, she wonders. A nice little quest before the radiation finally kills her.
Could you be an incurable romantic? A woman sits on the deck of her lake house, watching the lights of the other houses come on one-by-one. Far from being riddled with angst, her life is clear, her husband she adores, her days filled with meaning and purpose. She breathes in the fresh air from the lake, a blend of water and fallen leaves from the token deciduous trees that line the shore. She treasures little mornings like this. Soon, she thinks, she and her husband will be ready to have a baby. But her phone rings. It is the first man she ever made love to, a boy really, when she saw him last. He is hurting. His wife died, while he was away at war. He is beyond distraught; he is on the verge of non-existence. He is in town. Could he come to visit?
Opportunity is why I stopped taking photos. When I see, what I hear, smell, touch, and taste—it ignites my mind surely as if I was on fire. The camera is a wink of a moment, but your imagination is forever.
Today, as I was driving by the lake on the way to work, the rising sun was peeking out of the clouds over the evergreen laden mountains and hitting the water, illuminating the mist rising from the surface.
Why why why why?
Why did I sign up for Twitter? Just because that’s what all the cool kids do. Now I see it is like STALKING CRACK. Only I feel like I am stalking myself.
Kiersten: Don’t do it! Just say no! Walk away. The moment you Twitter, you are doomed. DOOMED I tell you! Twitter is so for you.
Larry Palooza!
I do not often comment on the book industry, mainly because it seems silly to talk about something I know little about.
But I am an observant person. Let me observe for you!
Larry Correia gave a shout-out about the Baen edition of Monster Hunter International. Right now it’s sales rank is around 7.5K, and at one point last night it was at 6K.
Not too bad for something shipping next year.
Obviously, Larry’s blog is widely read and he has a non-zero following. Why is Larry’s book so popular in such a short amount of time? I can surmise several reasons:
One, this is a reprint of a book he already published. That is an interesting story unto itself, but that is not the focus of my post. Anyway, at the height of the buzz for his POD version, he got with Baen and YANKED the book, leaving a void. This is where I first noticed Larry’s book. My book buying experience went like this:
Hey, a book about monsters from a gun guy. I AM SO GOING TO BUY THAT.
Ops, book is no longer available to order from Amazon. Huh. Well, let me look for a new book somewhere else.
A week later—can’t find it. I guess I will buy it used or from an alternate bookseller.
Ack, there are now no used books. I have to wait until 2009 to read it.
(sob)
A copy of MHI shows up on ebay. I snag it for US $25.00.
I devour the book, read it again and note used copies are going for $200-250, and giggle like a school girl. Ha ha ha ha I have my collector’s copy, bitches, ha ha ha ha!
Ahem. Anyway Larry has a few other things going. He did a viral marketing campaign for the original book by writing a bunch of shorts for a popular online forum. He ended the campaign with “and if you liked that, buy my book!”
Another reason is his blog. Larry is a conservative ranter plugged into the firearm bloggers. Larry can rant like no one else, and his blog is popular because of its well-written take on contemporary issues that would interest firearm enthusiasts.
That community is significant. In general it is well-read with above-average income. A book recommendation from one of these sites carries weight. An actual book written by someone plugged into the community even more so.
Finally, and most importantly, Larry’s book has a good buzz because it is just so darn good. Really. I posted on Amazon (for the POD version) that his voicing was great and the book, even when it went technical, did not talk down to me. As a reader with more than a passing familiarity with firearms, I cannot begin to tell you how refreshing it is when a writer, ironically writing about monsters in an urban fantasy, ignores the crap in popular fiction and Hollywood about guns and tells it like it really is.
In any event, surprisingly 4 of my readers of this blog are agented writers (which is a little frightening to the Hack Writer), one author’s book is nearing street release. There are also aspiring writers who visit. My message to you: you do not need to be a B-movie fan, firearm enthusiast—nor a conservative commentator—to study and appreciate the book sales and career-building Larry is presently engaged in. It is a fascinating look at online communities and fiction writing. His blog has several good summaries on his writing career, check it out.
And buy his book: I am selfish. I don’t want to buy a gun from Larry, but I would love to read more of his fiction!
Writing Update
You know you are a writer when you feel wretched and write anyway. Yesterday, I deleted 1100 words from Bunny Trouble but only added 500 back—while sick. There was a section in the novel that was a lot of tell, because I could not figure out how to reveal the detail either in action or dialog. Normally I delete things like that, but I felt what I was trying to say was important to the story.
I figured it out yesterday morning, and made my edits. The cuts were good, it shortened up the chapter and I peppered other parts of the manuscript with the concept I was attempting to convey. I added a bit of foreshadowing here and there and bingo, the novel gets even tighter, and a tad bit punchier.
On The Baby Dancers front, I added an important chapter to the novel. The main character, a teen, is a fine young man. In this chapter, he has a very adult conversation about love, attraction and the dangers of being a warrior (and not dangers to life, but dangers to heart and soul). It was a fine bit of foreshadowing coming off the chapter filled with action goodness, and I am quite enamored with the whole thing. More than just a filler chapter, it is a turning point in this young man’s dealings with other adults, especially women. I spoke from the heart, as raw and visceral as I ever have been.
That was 1775 words. The rest of the novel stretches out before me, clear and bright.
Not too bad, not too bad for writing while I was FOOD POISONED!
The Wife Unit and I let the kids talk us into fast food on the way home Saturday. We are not fast food fans by any stretch, and usually avoid it. The kids however, were both hungry and eager to get home.
That was a mistake. Three out of four of us got sick, with me catching the worst of it. Bleh. It took me all day yesterday to recover. Next time we will pack food before getting on the ferry and hitting the road home.
That is interesting to me. I can feel physically bad and still write about love. I think, dear 8.3 readers, that makes me a hopeless romantic.
