Monday, May 20, 2013

When Pagans Go Off The Cliff

Why can't I use my pretty bathroom as a shrine?
I guess my writing page is becoming kind of my political page. So here goes. Do you need to be told this is after a lot of crap on Facebook? So I have a link to a final statement and can go do something more useful?

To my Pagan Friends: When us of the atheist label hit on religists, your snickering, "I say atheism is just a belief, too!" is not only a dumb borrowing from religists, it makes me wonder where your head is at.

First of all, if you find a fuming atheist, remember most of us come from religist households, and it's all damage and repression in those places. Yes, we come out spitting rage and wanting to take on anybody who lights candles and talks to them. So "I met an angry damaged person" is NOT a fucking argument.

Atheism = "Leave me alone to live my life, don't put stupid laws on me or my friends based on delusion, and let me get these #!!! comic books done." It does NOT mean, "I've invented an invisible spirit and now I want peer review in science journals!"

We atheists are NOT going to show up with the sheriff and close down your magic circle - we will probably be joining in because, since we don't have a belief, we don't care about yours, but you have drumming and alcohol and fire, and us and the science community can't resist those (Oh, please. The scientists blow up bathtubs on YouTube).  Oh, and food. Loads of fabulous pagan feasts, because eating isn't one of the Seven Deadlies. An awful lot of religists in this country just offer a little sour wine and some tasteless bread. Really? Although the Catholics do some pretty good spaghetti suppers.

And if you're telling ghost stories, we'll believe 'em and tell ours - as long as they don't become part of what medications we're allowed to pick up at the pharmacy. Now remember who made the Burning Times - and who DIDn't. Oh, and who was killing all the cats - and why. And it wasn't US, thank you.

"Banzai, Stumpjumpers!"

I'm living where it's often still 1950. My email note to the editor of the Forks Forum:
Hi, Mark -
I couldn't resist. With an author who writes historical fiction in the house, and a history geek making comments across the room, you know we had to do it.

Have fun (I know you can't use it, but I couldn't resist).

Dan was the one who said, "Banzai, stump-jumpers!" He's from Ohio. I keep trying to tell him the PROPER term for Washingtonians is Webfoot. "Stump-jumper" is for Oregon.

BTW, my college Japanese teacher disappointed all of us when she told us "banzai" only means "hooray!"
The letter itself: 

"Banzai, Stump-jumpers."

I know I work for the Forum, but the controversy over the supposed Japanese airfield on the Ozette prairie reminds me of my own long experiences in writing historical fiction.

One of my writing rules is, "If it's funny, it's right." That includes weird, strange, unexpected, or just silly. It applies to writing, historical research and science, especially astronomy - the goofy story is going to be the real story.

Of course, the job of the military is to have attack plans ready, in case the peace negotiations fall through. All governments with a military do it that way; it's their job.

Just for musing - what if the Japanese had actually had contingency plans that included an Ozette airfield? Those of you with military experience can imagine what might have happened.

The Admiral knows he needs a staging area, even in obscure coastal areas, that include airfields. So he assigns the project to his Commander. The Commander passes it along to an area Captain. Some Lieutenant - with, say, art classes in college because - well, they draw, right? - gets the assignment. The Lieutenant grabs some sailor to sharpen pencils.

"Hm," mutters the young officer, looking over old 1899 maps, or if he's really lucky, 1920's surveys. "Well, this place has a sort of harbor look to it. I think this is deep water. What do you think, Watanabe?"

The sailor pauses in setting out the tea, and scratches his head. "I guess so, sir. But is that a cliff? No, wait, sir - I think there's a low place here. Would that work?"

"I wish there were forest or swamp symbols on this map. But I think it was for minerals or something. Well, at least it's flat. We'll use this."

The Lieutenant writes his report. The Captain is happy, and the Commander is happy, and the Admiral is already thinking about something else, and the maps and report are still in a dusty cabinet someplace.

I'm not saying it happened this way - but if any such plans ever existed, I'll bet a sushi dinner at that nice place in Port Angeles that there's some old sailor someplace who could say, "Oh, hai - I remember Lieutenant Rioku had me doing something with maps."

I'd bet dessert that somebody's trying to get out of paying reparations for interning the coastal Japanese, but I'm full.

Pass the saké.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Eating in Seattle - Café Soleil

Writer Bruce Taylor was hold a table for comics classic Roberta Gregory and me at Seattle's Hot Spot. 

On the way to meet Bruce, we passed a little restaurant that was nearly empty - but a waitress was delivering two big breakfast plates that looked and smelled divine.

Hungry?
It was Mother's Day, and the Hot Spot was slammed. Bruce was still waiting. So I suggested we head back and check out the other café. 

Plenty of room in a big, roomy hall, with both outside walls mostly window. Now, let's just have the facts:

Café Soleil, Ethiopian Restaurant. Devoted to the organic and real.

Big, tasty, American-style breakfasts, served fast (haven't had a chance to try the Ethiopian dishes, but the dinner menu looked yummy). Fried potatoes tender and crisp, eggs tender, goat cheese, sausage and veggies scrumptious. No, it's not all vegetarian, but they have plenty of veggie choices.

Very reasonable prices, right in the Cheap Eats class.

Fresh-squeezed orange juice.

Bottomless cup of STRONG coffee.

Almond milk or soy for the lactose intolerant.

Attention to special needs and sensitivities, such as gluten-free upon request.

Cheerful, out-going wait-staff and cooks.

Bathroom (I always check, for a key to overall restaurant cleanliness): Let us say - old-time post office building needs floor help, but clean and charming. And organic: even the odor spray was nothing but orange oils, with no propellants. 

Where: Seattle's Madrona neighborhood, 1400 34th Avenue, Seattle, WA  206- 325-1120. Lots of neighborhood parking.

We didn't mean to bleed off the line of people standing in front of the Hot Spot, and fill up the Soleil - but those poor people were backed up for days, and neither place is huge. And two good restaurants attract more overall customers than one.  

Now we'll have to go back for dinner!


Brave THAT!

You know those people yelling about the "Brave" girl being prettied up by Disney? Hey - as a girl, I can tell you right now, I like BOTH versions. That's right - us girls can be the hard horse-riding bow-girl in the morning, and sparkle up for the evening parties.

Suggestion for Disney movie: That red-haired wildling has grown up, is regularly appearing before the people as a fancied-up royal adult - and then there's some crisis in which she has to get out in secret and take care of business. How does she pass in front of men used to seeing her with fabulous gowns and great makeup?

Wash her face and change her clothes.

She'll be able to walk right by any man and he'd never know her. The guards who see her every day won't know her, because men think that stuff paint on the face is REAL. She won't fool any of the women, but that's part of the plot. Or her brothers, for that matter. 

Yes, guys - with us girls, it's not the hero bow girl OR the royal beauty - it's BOTH! Because we're complicated, and you wouldn't have us any other way. :D

Monday, May 6, 2013

Why I Write Like I Do - or, Zombies Deconstructed

This IS my normal face!
Yes, I will be 'splaining why I write that way. Getting a book done when I WANT it done, and as I want it done, and you just have to Keep Up. If you're too slow, that's your problem.

First of all, that's my face the way it looks now. For years that expression has scared the hell out of some people - and earned me many nervous, "Why isn't a nice girl smiling?" comments. That's just the way my face looks in repose, awright? Also, I grind my teeth, and I hold my jaw that way not to. Let's not get into the hundreds of painful hours I've spent in a dentist's chair, and why I don't want any more shattered teeth (thank you very much, rural/industrial health care of my childhood) 

First of all, I've been wondering WHY the mania with alien colonization and now zombies. Now I think I've sussed it. Stay with me, here.

We've all been watching the battle of the brains all over social media - basically left vs. right, or liberal vs. illiberal, or fun vs. scared. I've been hyperlinking ideas and all of a sudden, it all fell onto a front monitor today - terms and all.

To my science and science-hag friends: YES, it's a theory (To my non-scientific friends: Look the term "theory" the fuck up and stop embarrassing yourselves).

There is an evolutionary upgrade going on in humans, from the 2-stroke antique (whose two sides could entertain two contradictory ideas at once - and actually still think that's how we define "smart") - to the 8-level modern hyperlink (I use 8 levels for convenience; it's a theory, okay?), in which all ideas are visible at once, and need to coincide.

The Antique operates on black-and-white. As in good/bad, white people/everybody else, men/women. It sees no gray. It may not be capable of seeing gray. This isn't its fault - and was probably originally perfectly complete or at least not harmful. The Antique's motto is, "God is on my side."

The Modern operates on gray (keep that word in mind). Since all ideas are visible at once, we're less capable of fooling ourselves or rejecting nonsense just to make things "fit." We often look indecisive. We're accused of being flip-floppers, because we change our minds based on the most recent information we can prove. It's why leading modern Democrats is like herding cats. We don't accept "masters" so good. Yes, we tend to be Democrats, if we're using a major political party at all, because that's the way it's developed. More girls than not are Modern - and haven't we always been accused of being indecisive? The Modern's motto is, "I'm thinking. I'm THINKING!" 

Guess which level of brain looks before it leaps. It's why we dance around on top of cliff tops, chortling at the wreckage below: "We TOLD you so!" It's because we were still trying to decide while you went roaring ahead (Remember, the point guy is the one with the arrow in his forehead).

(Speaking of metaphors using arrows [Moderns can also be called Junk-brained because everything's on the screen at once} - all my First Nations friends seem to have minds using circular time. Everybody else, especially those from the original Central Asian diaspora, use linear time. While linear time is good for a deadline, to quote from the movie "Thunderheart": "White man time will give you stomach cancer." Australian Aboriginals seem to work on circular time, too - if one of you is reading this, let me know. We're just working a theory, here. Otherwise known as letting my mind drivel on through the 8 levels. Keep the "native" brain in mind, too.)

When did the Modern brain get a real boost? Moderns tend to be less violent, and perceive fewer threats, because we can think around them. Antiques are afraid of everything, especially "others" who are violent. The first victims of the Antique would be women - who were already developing the Modern to take care of their complicated world. But the Antiques, by destroying threatening, violent or upstart women, would be destroying the violent gene in their own children.

When did the Antique begin to try to explain the Modern to itself? When "logic" came about as a discipline. It was the Antique desperately trying to hammer a gray world into black and white - and often sounding extremely silly doing it.

In the past, Antiques have managed to kill off many of the Moderns. But when Europe divided soldiers from tribal warriors, it automatically took the carnage of war into the Antique population. The 19th century and especially the 20th saw the Antiques killing themselves off.

Now, of course Moderns are not threatening to Antiques. If an Antique can understand that their disappearance is good for humanity, they can calm down. They probably won't - they may not be capable of it. And they're certainly afraid of Hispanics, who are almost all part First Nations, and partake of circular time - even though people on circular time are less likely to be violent, because all things have been, will be, and are. 

But the Antique fear that they are being taken over by what they perceive as a controlling intelligence - can we say "Aliens?"

Yup. And they call us "Grays," too. 

They think we'll make them calm and fearless and "unemotional."

And they think we want their brains.

Pod-people. Zombies. Aliens.

And why I write the way I do. I'm a Gray.

No wonder my books - and my hyperlinking readers - scare a lot of (but fewer all the time!) people. :D

And you know it was a Modern invented this thing: ()

Sunday, March 10, 2013

So You Wanna Be A Comics Writer?

The Clarion Group asked me to write an article about getting into comics. So I wrote it. They used it, but it's a lot shorter. So here's the rest of it. Oh, and they used a much prettier picture.

Me, imitating Christopher Lloyd.

After a long San Diego Comicon, during the Sunday wind-down, a mother with a hopeful son approached me as a comics professional:

"My son wants to get into comics," she said. "What should I do for him?"

Pretty much wrung out after three days of marketing, I blurted, "Break his hands!'

Happily for me and her kid, they'd been around the industry long enough to recognize the reality of my comment.

Comics are hard work. They're probably the most labor-intensive art form we can successfully finish alone. The best way to get into comics, of course, is to learn to draw and write them from start to finish; that's what we call a comics author.

These days, with print-on-demand and downloads becoming simpler, cheaper and more easily organized, many comics authors are profiting quite nicely from the entire publishing process themselves.

Many people are becoming complete authors, but there's still a demand in the industry for the old-fashioned penciller/inker/letterer/colorer/writer team, especially in the old genre markets like superheroes and manga.

If you're going to write for comics, first of all attend a comics convention, the bigger the better. Look at everything and talk to everybody. Bring a big box of business cards, and no matter how good you think your memory is, write what your exchange was about, or both parties will forget it by the time you get home. There's just that much going on.

Hydrate, eat a good breakfast - you may get nothing more until supper - and learn to fish-swim through the rivers of fans (an art in itself).

Back home? Seen some books you want to write for? Learned who people are? Now it's time to get to work.

Think movie script. You're transmitting your ideas of dialog and images to another person. If you're writing licensed characters, it's like writing a Star Trek novel; you get pay, not the rights. On a comic book you get paid like the script-writer. The artist/s get paid like the actors.

The first lesson is: nobody's a mind reader. The second is: garbage in, garbage out. Artists come in at least two flavors; the ones who want you to describe every detail of every panel, and the ones who want to do the layout themselves. Too much detail just makes panels clunky. And you have to leave space for word balloons. Get some comics, and check out basic layout.

You want to become a writer for a publisher? Learning a genre and submitting scripts is the same as for any multi-level project. Each company has its own requirements. Their websites will tell you how. Nobody has time to give you the details at a comics convention. It's a trade show dealing with every level of arts, media and entertainment, and time is precious.

Of course, if all you have is a script you're probably going to end up sliding off the slush pile. A script is just a script. You need art, because the publisher isn't a mind-reader, either.

Don't try to talk some artist into working for cheap or free. Learning to be a really able artist requires thousands of hours of work and thousands of dollars in expenses. Unless you're part of a team that deeply believes in the project, that way lies fights, accusations, and a reputation as an amateur and an asshole. The artist is not lazy or feckless; you're just on the back burner because you're not paying, and somebody else is. It doesn't matter if they showed up after your project started. Artists are professionals, and while it's fun to work for the love of it - it's where the word "amateur" comes from - this is the real world, and they have a job to do.

If you've got a fat wallet, you can pay your artist without quibbling, but you still have to know if you like his or her art already. Don't demand the artist imitate a much more expensive artist, unless you're willing to pay the same fees; that's just getting copy-art for cheap. It's not going to help your reputation.

You pay up front; you're hiring the artist to do the work, not to decide if you like it or not. The usual arrangement is fifty percent up front, fifty percent upon approval.

But what if you're strapped? There's a way to get a good start. Put money together to pay well for the first pages before submitting the project to a publisher. You're acting as a small-scale producer; you have to find the funding for the film.

I can remember one young man who approached me and offered $750 for twenty pages of art. Starting at black and white for $150.00 per page and going up - he wasn't getting beyond a short story. I asked him who his dream artist would be, and if s/he was at the show. The man was. Then I asked the writer who he'd approach second, and then third. They were all at the show. I told the writer to wait until his first choice was on a break from lines of signings, then approach him politely, and offer the entire budget for one really fine color splash page.

The writer returned within the hour. His first choice worked at a higher usual page rate, so turned him down, but thanked him for the offer. The second had too much work on his plate. He got the third.

Start at the top. Offering a copy of a really top-class piece of art along with a script is going to at least let the publisher know you're serious about your project.

How many of you out there are asking what a splash page is? If you don't know, or what a Kirby grid or a signature is, or how many of them go into a comics format, then you need to google some comic book terminology. Or at least get to the largest comic book show you can find, and geek up. If nothing else, you could see Darth Maul on stilts playing a bag-pipe.*

Happy hunting!


Saturday, March 2, 2013

2013 Emerald City Comicon report

I'm going to be adding to this report as the weekend goes on. Mostly it's just copying from caffeinating on Facebook. There WILL be more!

First, the Drink N Draw. Yes, I'll try to find everybody's names. I'd just driven in from Clallam Bay and finished the first set-up in the Prism Booth, and then spent all afternoon promoting the Clallam Bay Comicon. Bluebear evidently feels right at home lying on everybody's art.






It's not a con until We've had Our Margarita
Prism Comic's Zan balances BlueBear.
At the GayGeek party at the Raygun Club, Friday night, I vowed to have ONE drink. Hard cider. But when the barkeep hears you're the author of "The Desert Peach" and whoops, "YEAH, I'm buying!" you have another. Did I mention the mead tasting?


BlueBear Attack! That's what you get for passing mead out to everybody.
On the one hand, Miss Cheap Date has to work through a bit of a hangover this morning. On the other hand, one does not hesitate with bus connections. I was the Queen of the Seattle Bus-hops last night... What? I wouldn't have gone partying, if I had to be at the Prism Booth any earlier than 2:30 (#1214). It let me meet or re-attach with a great bunch of people. Now who's up for R-Place tonight? :D

On the left? Yes, that IS the author of Capital Hillbillies
The Ka-Blam tshirt!
Saturday! Of COURSE I'm wearing my Ka-Blam tshirt in the Prism booth. Maybe BlueBear needs his own little Ka-Blam get-up?

Dude came up to me, in a costume about an alternate world, said it was a "matriarchy, where the men are all chattels." Really? REALLY? Do you want to know why we roll our eyes at you? No, we would not capture you and fulfill your servant fantasies - you are all too high maintenance! We would tell you to get the hell out of the way. As in: "Hey! Put your damn warpaint and spears on, then meet that other tribe's warriors on that hill over there. We're trying to make clothes and feed the kids, here." Well, d'uh.
Friend from Facebook!
Some more wonderful folks came up to say hi, and pose with His Bearness. 

Yes, I sold mass books, and made new friends and fans, and hung out with NASA. They now have the "Science Hag" bumper sticker you can get at the Zazzle link at the bottom of this page. It was done in their honor, and now NASA has confusing bumper-stickers, too.

They had a big booth in the lobby, along with the Lego® exhibit, and they were punching holes in chocolate and launching foot-rockets and generally having too much fun with science. Then they went strutting down to see Patrick Stewart, bringing their own astronaut, and their whole attitude was, "WE got a REAL one!" It was pretty funny.

A partner of the good friend who used to call himself "The Irish Nazi."
After the convention, Roberta Gregory and I went off to the Grill on Broadway in Seattle's Capitol Hill district, to do Karaoke with Jonathan Jones, professional Karaoke dude. She took on "Aqualung." I did all right with "Radar Love." But - I was pushing it when I thought I could try "Blue Savannah" and "Psycho Killer." Well-drinks or not.

Anyway, back home, getting ready for the Clallam Bay Comicon. Um.... I might have oversold this thing.... If we don't watch it, we may have Darth Vader playing the bagpipe on stilts invading a small rural town.