Marketing Idea

I have a notion about something that I am going to run past the group here. In my newest book-in-progress, I have an alien character. This is unusual for me, there aren't any aliens in the Matador universe, at least none we get to see.


My alien gets a brief description in the first chapter, and will get more as I go along. I have in my my mind what she looks like, and I'll offer enough detail so that I should be able to impart that to a reader, at least generally. 


Readers tend to fill in their own blanks–I have one friend who tells me he always visualized Khadaji with a beard, though I never said he had one.


Mm. Anyway, I'm thinking maybe I'll have a contest for struggling artists. Based on my description, I'd like to see how the character might be rendered.


Yes, I know, I have been to a lot of science fiction conventions and have seen a whole lot of art shows therein, and I know this is apt to open me to to some really bad images filling my mailbox, but it's like everything else, Sturgeon's Law and all.


Now, I wouldn't ask artists to work for free, save that a contest is that by nature; and my thoughts would be that the one who comes closest will get one of two prizes–such that they are. 


If the book gets picked up by a traditional publisher, I will submit the artwork with the ms and suggest that they hire the artist for the cover illo. 


To be upfront here, they don't pay a lot of attention to me in New York City about cover art, so that could be no more than wishful thinking. Once, they gave me what I asked for, and it's the piece up at the top of the blog. But I'll make best effort, and at least there will be a long shot at it.


Artist gets the job, my piece was his or her audition, and that's the pay-off.


Failing a direct commission, I'll ask that the publisher at least use the artwork as a basis for the character if they put her on the cover, and if they do, the artist will have bragging rights, and a small payment out of my pocket. How small is small? I dunno, that will depend on how big an advance I get, but for an artist trying to break in, it could be a calling card: Steve Perry thinks this illo is the best version of his alien in his new book series and you can ask him for a reference ...


Further, if the artist is into graphic novels and has any desire to play with this series in that medium, I'll give him or her the right of first refusal.


Second, if the book winds up as a e-novel and I have to provide my own cover, I'll use the winner to do it. Again, we aren't talking about big bucks, probably a small advance and a small royalty. You aren't supposed to do this, give away any part of your royalty, but if the cover art helps sell a lot of copies, I'm willing to share that with an artist in lieu of a big advance. If it gets to that, we can dicker.


Naturally, I wouldn't expect to get established illustrators interested in this kind of venture, any more than somebody would get me to write a novel thusly; however, for somebody who is getting drawing chops but hasn't had a place to showcase them, this might not be such a bad deal.


Whaddya think?

And Boy, Are My Arms Tired ... The Rapture, Part II

"Houston, this is Orion three-seven-nine heavy, we are requesting a change in altitude."

"Orion, this is Houston, say again?"

"There are a couple dozen people floating in the air just ahead. Most of them appear to be dead."

"Copy that, Orion. You are cleared to descend to twelve thousand feet on your current heading."

"Descending to twelve thousand feet, Houston, thank you."

"Uh, Orion, you say there are only a couple dozen people up there?"

"That's affirmative."

"Huh. Verify your location, Orion."

"Houston, we are directly over downtown Dallas."

"Huh. You'd think there'd be a few more ..."


Okay, now, I think this is funny on a couple levels, but since I made the joke up, I might be somewhat less than objective ...


I might have mentioned this here before, probably in my how-to-ebook, but years back,  I took a comedy writing class from the late Danny Simon–that's Neil Simon's older brother. He came to Portland to visit a daughter who lived here, and did a weekend seminar at a local U. It was kind of spendy, but I figured since this was the guy who got his brother and Woody Allen into the biz, and taught them the ropes ... ?


It was a great class, he was an old pro and he knew his stuff. Worth every penny.


I was, at the time, writing for a couple of animated shows on the tube, and some of them needed to be funny now and then, and how many opportunities was I going to get to take a class like this in Portland? (Turned out, Simon eventually moved up here, but by then, was ill, and I don't know if he did any more teaching.)


Simon–who claimed he was the model for Oscar in The Odd Couple–liked to use old TV shows as part of the instruction. He'd run a vid of a B&W sitcom or sketch show to give us a set-up, then pause the vid and ask us what the punchline was going to be, and why they used it. Much of this was to illustrate the difference between a joke-joke and one that came from character, the latter being funnier.


Joke-Joke: Three men walk into a bar ...


Character: Mary, Rhoda, and Lou Grant walk into a bar ...


Some of those old shows were classics. Some of the humor was side-splittingly funny. Some of it was too on-the-nose, and he wanted us to see the differences, and why and how they were what they were. 


I make it one of my better moments as a writer that I was able to nail the punchline most of the time, on shows I'd never seen. And there was, after a few of these, one of my most egotistical and heart-warming memories as a word-worker: After a bit from one of the old Texaco Theater or Sid Caesar shows whereupon I delivered the ta-dump! punchline correctly, Simon looked at me and said, "You're in the biz, aren't you?"


Man, you should have seen my shit-eating grin ...

Heads Up

For those of you who have plans this weekend, might put them on hold and stock up on toilet paper and water and granola bars and all–it seems that The Rapture is upon us, apparently scheduled for Saturday. 

Check your local listings for the exact time in your area.

If you are unfamiliar with the concept of The Rapture, the short version: All the good Christians are going to be lifted up into Heaven, to avoid what the Anti-Christ is going to do to the rest of us: 

"... and the dead in Christ shall rise first: Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord."

(1 Thess 4)

Better leave some extra food out for the cat and dog if you are among the Chosen ascending Saturday–they don't get to go–or get one of your not-so-good Christian friends, or a Buddhist to drop round and feed them before the rain of fire and brimstone and all:

"But the day of the Lord will come as a thief in the night, in which the heavens will pass away with a great noise, and the elements will melt with fervent heat; both the earth and the works that are in it will be burned up.

"Therefore, since all these things will be dissolved, what manner of persons ought you to be in holy conduct and godliness, looking for and hastening the coming of the day of God, because of which the heavens will be dissolved, being on fire, and the elements will melt with fervent heat?" 

(II Peter 3:10-1)

Probably won't do Fluffy and Spot much good to leave the AC on ...

Just so you know ...

And no, I'm not making fun of Christians–I'm making fun of looney tunes radio preachers who have it on Good Authority that the End is Upon Us. If I'm wrong, I'll apologize to the unworthy come Sunday while I'm out looking for Coppertone with SPF 2,000,000 ...

Der Sperminator

Sorry, I know somebody has surely already used the term, but in the circus that is American celebrity, I had to make mention of this one in passing. Ahnahl, whose reputation as a pussy hound goes way back, has a love-child with one of the household staff, the child now a teenaged boy who was kept under wraps for all this time.


Look at him: Is that the face of a man who would cheat on his wife?


Maria has taken the younger kids and moved out, and the marriage is kaput.


They might shrink your gonads, but all them steroids also flood you with a whole lot of testosterone, and it wants to go somewhere and do something. The stories have it is that Ahnahl never met a tit he didn't reach for, nor a tush he wouldn't pat, and I can't say I'm surprised. The rules for the rich and famous are different than they are for the rest of us.


Is that Tiger Woods whispering into his ear? Dude, might as get out your checkbook–you play, you pay. And take it from me, it's the most expensive piece you ever had. Trust me, I know ...

Noble Purpose: Writing Philosophy

I've gotten feedback from several readers of that chapter I offered, and I appreciate the quick responses. So far, I'm batting a thousand, in that the piece worked for everybody who has spoken to it ... well, save for one case that offered a conditional response, and I'll talk a bit about that because I think it might be useful for other writers to hear.


The correspondent thought the opening worked okay, and probably would buy the book, but not if the book was going to be about a bunch of mercenaries only interested in money. There needed to be a Noble Purpose to the storyline, I was told, else it wouldn't be about anything, and good stories are always about more than just the plot.


Mostly, I agree. Stories do need to be about something, and I fancy that all mine are, though sometimes it is less obvious what that is than other times. (Though the Noble Purpose of the Matterhorn Ride is probably to make Uncle Walt's heirs even more money, that doesn't make the ride any less fun or invigorating, so sometimes an e-ticket ride can just be about the experience.)


But for me, of course, I'm a romantic, all of my novels have at their hearts some kind of love story. And most of them positively reek with Noble Purpose. However ...


In my mind, the less obvious such a thing is, the better. The worst sin for a writer is to bore his or her reader. Doesn't matter how much Noble Purpose there is if people close the book because they can't keep from dropping into a stupor. The sound of the soapbox being dragged up does that better than Lunesta's giant green sleeping-pill butterfly.


On a panel with Tim Powers once, he spoke to something a fan said to him: What is the theme of your novel?


His comment, as best I can recall: "Theme? Theme? Oh, hell, I don't know–brush your teeth! Theme?!"


There are doubtless writers who sit down and decide upon their theme before they address the tale. I'm not one of them. Nor do any writers I know admit as much to me; probably because they don't want me having a heart attack from laughing too hard. 


Sometimes, I might be most of the way through the draft before what the book is about comes to me. Ah, that's what I'm saying. Hmm. Interesting ...


You chase your hero up a tree and throw rocks at him. What he does and how he does it defines his character and purpose and theme. Not complicated. You Just Tell the Story. If you can do that and keep it interesting, that other stuff will sort itself out. Don't wrap yourself around your own axle worrying about anything else.


Noble Purpose? Yeah, right. I want 'em sitting on the edge of their seats. Staying awake until three a.m. and cursing me because they have to go to fucking work in the morning and they have to finish before they can sleep. Laughing when I want them to laugh, crying when I want them to cry, happy to have spent their beer money on the book when they are done. That's more than enough. 


Plot, character, story: In genre writing, I believe that those are best revealed by actions, and Lord knows I talk too much anyway, so it's a constant battle for me to make sure I'm showing more and telling less. Sometimes I pull it off, sometimes I don't. 


If you, as a writer, hammer readers over the head with Noble Purpose, you risk losing them, and that's a Bad Thing. Best you sneak it in, and if they can get it without ever knowing it? That is ideal in my mind.


An opening chapter is, for me, to set the hook, and pretty much, you need to do that by the end of the first page, because if they don't turn that one, the game is over and you lost. What the book is about will be revealed as you go, and if it all has to be clear by the end of the first chapter? Ain't gonna happen.


My readers aren't going to get everything they want in the first chapter. I'm not going to fully describe my characters, nor their motivations, nor the setting, nor the all those things I have the rest of the book to play with. A first chapter is the first taste of an appetizer. That's all it needs to be. Anything less won't do, anything more isn't necessary.


If you've read my books and don't like them, there's no point in reading the next one, because it's going to be more of the same. If you do like the other stuff, then probably you can trust me enough to believe I'll pay off the set-up. 


That's Perry's philosophy. Are you in good hands?

Looking for a Few Good Men or Women

Okay, here's the deal: I'm working on a novel, which, if it goes, could turn into a new series. Quasi-military space opera, couple hundred years out, FTL ships and a few alien species. Probably rated-R, maybe NC-17, for a combination of language and sex and violence.


I've written most of an opening chapter introducing several characters, about 3000 words, and I have a backstory and general idea of the galaxy they inhabit, along with a couple of book springboards. 


What I want is, a few readers to read the opening and comment upon it, without knowing any of that stuff, only what is on the page. 


Here the caveats: 


1) You have to read space opera and like the stuff. Wouldn't hurt if you were one of my fans, but that's not a requirement. If you think rockets and ray guns are silly? Won't help, save us both the time.


2) You can't talk about it until after a book deal gets made. Oh, sure, you can tell your spouse, but I don't want the specifics on the net yet. Replies will be to the email address I use to send it out, not here on the blog.


3) I'm limiting it to six, maybe eight people, maximum. If you are one of 'em, I'll ship you a PDF and when you are done, you can shoot me an email and tell me what you think. 


The questions I am interested in seeing answered are simple: 


Does it work for you? 


Would you want to read the rest of it enough to buy it when it is available? 


If it doesn't play, reasons why not would be good. 


Beyond that, yea or nay, the details don't matter. If I have typos or I flub a line here or there, it's not important–I'll be rewriting as I go and cleaning up, and what you see might not look all that much like the final version. (When I need readers for that, I'll let you know.)


So, there you have it. I'll stick up a note here soon as I get enough volunteers. Thanks. 


Addendum:


Um, I'll need email addresses. I'll delete them from the blog soon as I harvest them.


Add two:


Thanks, folks, my dance card is full. I appreciate it. 

eBook Train

As you can tell by my sidebar, I have bought my ticket to the ebook pub-train and found myself a seat. I've written about ebooks a bit here, and also here, mostly my own ventures into the arena, but some more general  stuff, and how I see it; below are three links from other writers who have interesting and informed views on the subject.


Dean Wesley Smith


Mike Stackpole


Kris Rusch


If you are a writer, you would be well-served checking out what they have to say about it.

Healthy Dinner

Pursuant to our desires to improve our diets, the dinner we came up with last night. 


In the foreground, a plate of linguini, with a sauce of mushrooms and tomatoes and a parma topping; lightly steamed broccoli, and on my plate, a broiled Italian sausage patty, made with turkey. In the b.g., a yellow cake made with pineapple juice as the main sweetener and walnuts as a topper.


Tasted great, all of it, and was low in fat and sugar. 


For me, if you are going to cut down on white death and lard, you have to replace it with something that looks and tastes good, and is filling enough so you feel satisfied after you are done. 


No, it's not a pork chop wrapped in bacon and smothered in fried shrimp, and I wouldn't make the claim that it compares to such a dish on the taste-o-meter; however, it's not the heat-attack special, either ...

First of the Summer Blockbusters: Thor

My son, oldest grandson, and I saw the new Thor movie yesterday. Not bad–I'd give it a B- or a C+. It had a majestic sweep, a Shakespearean feel–not surprising, given that Sir Anthony Hopkins played Odin, and it was directed by Kenneth Branagh. And Natalie Portman, trying to look dowdy as scientist? 


Idris Elba as the Gatekeeper, Heimdall. The kid who played Thor, Chris Hemsworth, was perfect, and Rene Russo as his mother? I kept seeing her comparing scars with Mel Gibson in Lethal Weapon whichever, or that remake of The Thomas Crown Affair ...


Great casting, including Tom Hiddleston, about whose character I'll speak a bit: bear with me, I have to set it up.


The plot is so old it pre-dates dirt, and I'm not giving anything away by telling you that it revolves around the arrogant young Thor, God of Thunder, being banished from Asgard for disobeying his father. 


Kid needs a lesson, and he gets it.


The movie comes to life when Thor, stripped of his super-powers and hammer, becomes a fish out of water on Earth. Some funny lines from this, including a scene where he goes into a pet store and tries to get a horse. We don't have horses, the clerk says. Dogs, cats, fish, like that. Fine, Thor says, give me one of those large enough to ride ...


There is a seriously-lame attempt to hide the villain, and I'm not going to honor it here. 


We first see young Thor in Asgard in a flashback, when he and his brother tag along behind dad, they are about eight or nine years old. The next time, Thor is about to be crowned king when the frost giants break into a vault and screw up the coronation.


Ah, those nasty frost giants ...


For the first half of the movie, the writer and director go out of their way to avoid naming Thor's brother, who is right there onscreen in the thick of things. If you have read any of the Marvel comics or anything about Norse mythology, or seen a movie or TV show about it, then you know who Thor's brother is. And if you haven't, and don't know? No point in tip-toeing around it, is there? Since it won't mean anything to you.


Loki. Loki the Trickster is Thor's brother. He is the villain. 


And if this spoils the movie for you, you probably can't find your way to the theater without help. 


EFX are okay, nothing special. Putting it in 3D was a waste, it doesn't add anything, save for an occasional snowflake. Jim Cameron set the bar high, and nobody has come close to clearing it since Avatar. Nor am I holding off breathing waiting. If I could have seen it in 2D, I would have.


Like most summer movies, this is a check-your-brain-at-the-door and enjoy the ride. And oddly enough, at two hours and ten minutes, it felt short. They could have put another half hour into it and made it better. 


Even so, don't drink the large Slurpee ...


Stan Lee's cameo was as a pick-up truck driver, and if you look carefully, you might spot Joe Straczynski (Story by) as a townie, I think it's during the attempted hammer-pull. 


It's all silly fun, nothing really wrong with it, and as my son pointed out, the teaser after the final credits–always in a Marvel movie, you should wait until the lights go up–seems more interesting than the movie we just watched ...

Unsolicited Product Endorsement

As somebody who has, from time to time, accidentally cut myself, I am passing familiar with bandages. I worked in a medical clinic for some years, raised two children, and generally, there is a Band-Aid style bandage in my wallet pretty much everywhere I go, just in case.


I am still waiting for the one-handed bandage, i.e., one you can open and apply with one hand, because generally, the other hand is bleeding, fingers being the most common cut injury, and it is one of life's small frustrations trying to find that peel-apart section of a band-aid while your blood is dripping all over the place. However ...


Nexcare makes a foam-tape I've been using for ten or twelve years to protect my thumb joints when I work out, and I even put up a trainer-style short vid showing how I tape my hands for silat class. Great stuff, waterproof, enough stretch so your hands can flex, like that. I use half a roll between both hands, and it costs four something a roll, but I consider two bucks cheap insurance against a sprained thumb, and I order a dozen rolls at a time. 


Nexcare also makes a variety of small bandages that use the waterproof foam tape, and being able to move your fingers and have the tape stretch is a good thing. Next time you buy a box of bandages, check out Nexcare, you can find them everywhere fine first aid products are sold ...

They're Tryin' to Wash Us Away ...

The Corps of Engineers is fixin' to open the Morganza Spillway–the Bonnet Carre is already partially open–to release the Mississippi River's pressure on the levees south of the Atchalafaya. This will probably spare Baton Rouge and New Orleans from flooding, but it is gonna put a whole lot of swamp and farmland under water, ten or fifteen feet deep, so they say.


They'll close Hwy. 190 when they do, and Krotz Springs and Morgan City are gonna get their feet wet all the way up to their eyebrows.


This is why the spillways were built, to save having to dynamite the levees upstream to spare the cities, but there are a lot of coonasses living out in the spillway who are going to have to move or drown, and it's going to ruin the fishing and crawfishing for a while, though the crawfish will probably get a lot better once the water ebbs.


I was living in B.R. when they opened the spillway in the early seventies, and it was something to see.


In Randy Newman's song, Louisiana, 1927, the lyric:


President Coolidge came down on a railroad train/
With a little fat man with a note pad in his hand/
President say, 'Little fat man, isn't it a shame?/
What the river has done to this poor cracker's land?

New Book Begins

As usual, I am juggling several projects, try to apply the minimal-work-for-maximum-gain philosophy, while adjusting it to have as much fun as I can. Some of these I can talk about, some I can't at all, and some I can talk about a little bit. 


In this last category, I'm working on a military space-opera novel–not the Matadors–which could find a traditional market, if what my agent is telling me is valid. If not, it is interesting enough that it is going to find a home somewhere, ebookery or POD, whatever.


Traditional publishing still has a certain cachet. Some readers would still prefer to go that way, plus there is the advance up front, and not having to do anything except write the thing. So if I get an offer on this beast, that's the way I'll go, if it is remotely reasonable.


Anyway, I managed a nice 1500-word chunk of an opening scene, and had quite the happy time doing it. I'll let you know when I can what it's about and where it's going. I expect Matador fans might find it interesting ...

House on Fire

Hugh Laurie, the British actor best known to Americans as the brilliant-but-nutso doctor House, on the series of the same name, is also a terrific comedy actor. If you have been an PBS fan forever as I have, you know him from Black Adder, Wooster and Jeeves, and several other British series. Man is seriously funny, albeit a long-time sufferer from clinical depression.

What you might not know is that he is a stone blues fan, can play several musical instruments, and has just released his first blues album in Europe, which is current #2 on the charts in the U.K.

You can go here and have a listen to samples. 

And you know what? He's not bad.

It doesn't hurt that he has Irma Thomas, Allen Toussaint, Tom Jones and Dr. John backing him up–they could make me sound good ...

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Camping and Yard Work and Guitar Stands, O My ...

We had a whole day of good weather starting day before yesterday, so we did a quick trip in the camper to enjoy this rare phenomenon. (Before we came home and did yard work, of course.)


With gasoline at four bucks a gallon-plus here, in a vehicle that gets about ten mpg, such trips get spendy the farther you go. We did a run to a Gorge campground we like, walked the dogs, enjoyed the trains rolling past, and had a fine time. Still cheaper than renting a hotel room this way, but not all that much ...


Then the yard work, which this time was mostly about trimming out the plum tree out front and chopping the branches small enough to fill the green bin. Good to have gotten it done, but nursing a sore neck because of some action I didn't notice at the time ...


Uploading Immune Response the third time this morning–Brad pointed out that it rolled merrily along for nine chapters, then started over again. I have no idea why. Maybe third time is the charm ...


Last week, Chester pointed out there was a portable guitar stand that was way cool, the Cooperstand. And here is a nice perk from putting up a blog–people point out things I wouldn't have known otherwise:

(Images from the Cooperstand site)

Kind of spendy at sixty bucks, the little stand, but a quality product, and I found that I needed it. (Not just wanted it, I needed it ...) Small enough when folded up to fit into the case under the headstock of my guitar, except I already have extra  strings, folded up music lyrics and the Neck-up strap there. Easily stowable in my amp bag, though. This is a clever design, well-executed, and hand-crafted. 

ePub Roadblock

Yesterday I uploaded the latest backlist book to Smashwords.


Only, there were 3600 books ahead of me in the queue. Seriously, three thousand six hundred and change. 


Lot of folks getting into publishing. 


I let it grind, and this morning, it finally made it to the top of the list. Except ...


There was a formatting error–I wanted an indent for graphs and a couple points spacing after each one, and Smashwords says it's one or the other. 


Swell. 


So I had to choose which, fix it, and re-submit it–going with the indent this time–and guess what? Another three thousand books are ahead of me ...


NOTE: In theory, anyone who bought the earlier version with the goof can download a clean version. If you want to do this and for some reason cannot, let me know and I'll replace your copy.

Steppin' Out

Last night, my wife and I went out for dining and music. Dinner was at Bernie's Southern Bistro, on NW Alberta, on Portland's east side. Great food, reasonably priced. Better to get reservations–they don't do lunch, but apparently have a happy hour starting at four p.m. We lucked out and got a table just before the rush arrived.


We had bleu cheese grits and barbecued shrimp and blackened salmon, and it was goood ...


Beer is only by the bottle, though they do have a liquor bar.


After dinner, we walked in the rain a block to the Alberta Rose Theater, for a tribute to blues legend Robert Johnson, today being the 100th year anniversary of his birth. He died at twenty-seven, and while the myth is a bit murky, likely his death was from drinking poisoned whiskey. Who gave it to him and why hasn't been nailed down: a jealous girlfriend or somebody's jealous husband? He apparently loved the ladies, high, wide, and everywhere. 


Accident? 


Murder ... ?


Johnson was a good guitar player, and the story goes that he went to the crossroads at midnight and made a deal with the Devil to get his chops.


White blues musicians discovered his small body of work on old 78 rpm records, lot of the British Invasion players worshipped the guy, but among black musicians, especially in the decades immediately after his death, the apparent response if asked about him would have been "Robert Who?" 


He was a player, but not limited to delta blues, and admired during his life for his ability to play other styles as much as the blues. He was, according to some musical history writers, only one among many who were as good–the early 1900's spawned a plethora of bluesmen (and women) and some of them lived long enough to be part of the blues revival that the British players helped bring about in the early sixties:


Son House, Elmore James, Skip James, Jessie Mae Hemphill, Charley Patton, Pine Top Perkins, Muddy Waters, Bucca White, Blind Lemon Jefferson–the list is long.


Why him in particular? Johnson had recordings, and he had the mystique–he lived fast and died young, and not a lot was known about him.


There are two known pictures of Johnson, and both are posted here. 


The concert itself was, we were to discover, divided into two parts. The first part consisted of players sitting down and playing lightly-amplified acoustic instruments. From Baby Grampa, who was a solo with a resonator guitar, and who tore it up; to Terry Robb and Laureen Sheehan, on guitar and mandolin, respectively, who really tore it up; to
Curtis Saldago, Joe McMurrian, Frank Goldwasser, Mary Flower, the cream of the local blues crop, with some crossover stuff by Little Sue. 


Most of these are serious blues folk, with all kinds of chops, and a joy to behold. 


The second set, after a break, the groups dialed up the volume to ten, Bob Shoemaker, Sassparilla, Woodbrain, and even Kung Pao Chicken, a jazz group who were great, but who didn't fit in. 


I love live music when it's done well, and the first half of this tribute was as good as any I've ever heard. At home, however, I can turn the volume down, and when a group overplays the room–this was a smallish theater venue, three hundred seats, and sold out, SRO–it literally becomes painful. Not just enough to turn down the hearing aids, you have to take them out and stuff something into your ears and even then, it's a visceral experience, you feel it in your bones.


When I was fifteen, I'd sit in front of the speaker and let it stream my hair. Not any more. 


Halfway through a number around eleven o'clock, with a drummer, guitarist, bass player and harmonica blasting the paint off the walls, we had to leave. A shame, because the players were good, they were just into a sonic assault that was, to us, unpleasant.


I know they knew there was more than one setting on the amp because a couple of them had played in the first set. 


When a deaf old guy thinks it's too loud? You know you are talking about injury-level decibels.


If we had left after the first set, it would have been a totally terrific experience, and if you ever have a chance to listen to the folks in the first group in an acoustic mode,  do so. And if you don't mind it loud, the second set was full of excellent players.


One odd thing I noticed. Portland is a big blues town, we have a festival here every summer, fills up downtown and the waterfront along the river, but there weren't any black singers or musicians last night. I dunno why–we do have some black folks here, though not many, and surely among them are some great blues artists. 


Maybe they were all busy elsewhere ...

New Backlist eBook

Be putting another one up soon, I'm working my way through the ms now. This one came out about five years ago in a limited-edition hardback, and as it happens, I own the ebook rights. 


Well, most of them–when I signed the contract, I didn't have a clue ebooks were going to be worth anything and I allowed the publisher to have a piece, so 20% of what I make goes to them. Still leaves me with a 50% royalty, I can't gripe too much, but it's funny; now I'm the publisher, and I'll have to keep track of sales and send them their cut, it sells any copies. 


I opted for a plain cover, just for fun. I'll stick up the link when I get it online. 

Raking in the Dough

Got a royalty check in today's mail, for a small-press novel I did a few years back:

$2.08

My head is all awhirl with how I might spend such a windfall ...

Actually, I'm pleased, even though the amount is tiny. What that means is, the book earned out the advance I got, and while it wasn't much, it's always good to have that happen–makes them look more kindly upon you if you ever try another submission there.

Training

Rory Miller

Got nothing to do on Mother's Day? In or around Beaverton, Oregon?


"The seminar at TienTae Jitsu Martial Arts in Beaverton is coming up in only three days.
80 in advance, 90 at the door. Elements of self defense, violence dynamics, self-defense law, fighting to the goal, efficient movement ... maybe some extras if half the class are repeats (or really, really smart).

Since it is Mother's day if anyone signs up (you must be over eighteen) your mom gets in free.  Sign up and more details at:

http://chirontraining.com/Site/Beaverton.html