I’m not stupid: thoughts on the reader/writer relationship

Disclaimer: I’ve only attempted reading one Dean Koontz novel. I could be wrong about him. I’ll try again someday.

I’ve read 163 pages (32%) of Dean Koontz’s “Shadow Fires”. And that’s all I’m going to read. The only reason I got that far was because I had a suspicion about “the monster” and wanted to see if I was right. I was.

The reason I’m stopping, despite being so far in, is that he doesn’t trust me. Every time a character reacts to the action of the unfolding story, Dean feels it necessary to explain what the character is feeling and thinking. Are these underdeveloped characters? No at all. They have secrets, but each of the main characters are explained early on, in great detail.

The only possible explanation for these unnecessary details is that either Dean believes I may not be human, or that he is writing for stupid people. Every single time he invokes a thought or a feeling with his words, he uses a hundred more to make sure I got it. I got it. I’m am human. Maybe it’s self-deprecation that he assumes everyone who reads his work is a dullard.

So I put it down and have moved on to yet another novel written by Stephen King. The first 3 pages of “The Regulators” says more than the first 163 pages of “Shadow Fires”. And I don’t even think I got everything King was saying.

etiquette for the modern movie goer

1. Previews are over. If I see your iPhone before the credits, you lose an index finger

2. Is this opening week end? Are these previews new? Shut your mouth.

3. Are you the only person in your group with popcorn? The popcorn noises are distracting and nobody likes you.

4. Is this a matinee in a mostly empty theater? Lets keep our distance. I actually do bite.

5. Are you confused by the plot? You’re probably not alone. Assume everyone is as dumb as you and save your questions for the end of class.

It’s not too complicated. But people seem to be oblivious. It’s like those silence your cell phone commercials didn’t even happen. Also, to whoever it was sitting next to us at that matinee showing of Alice in Wonderland; It’s not OK to bring sugar packets to the movies and tear one open every few minutes and dump it on your popcorn. You’re a bad person. Next time it’ll cost you a thumb.

.

The Dark Tower… of Pirates and Doom.

Quick thoughts on some books I’ve finished recently:

The Dark Tower series, by Stephen King- I’ve done it folks. Some claimed it was impossible but they can all suck it because I have ascended the Dark Tower and seen with my eyes from its highest room. I loved the series. Stephen King became my favorite author through these seven long books. I’m just pissed off that the JJ Abrams movies aren’t happening anymore. Damn you Star Trek!

Pirate Latitudes, by Michael Crichton- It’s a realistic Pirates of the Caribbean. Kinda. I really enjoyed it. Lots of blood and debauchery. It sucks that Crichton died. He’s a really good writer. And he’s all about telling an interesting story. It’s nearly IMPOSSIBLE to be bored while reading him. I’d love to see someone try to adapt it to the big screen. They’d have to put a love story in it. Hmm…

The Doom Stone, by Paul Zindel- A blast from my past. I remember reading this and having nightmares for weeks back in grade school. Still pretty creepy. It’s a lot of fun. Great thing about YA is that you can plow through them in a day or two. It’s all about a monster that lurks around Stonehenge. Read it to a child and scar them like I was scarred.

The Boneshaker, by Cherie Priest- Didn’t finish this one. And I don’t think I will. It is hard to stop when you’ve slogged through 200+ pages of moderately entertaining story. Just too wordy and slow. Yes, it’s steampunk. Yes, there are airships. And yes, there are even zombies. But I’m BORED! Cardinal sin of entertainment, don’t bore the audience. I’m still thinking about finishing it.

About to start The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins at the suggestion of one Casey Burke. He told me it’s like Battle Royale. This was a pretty good way to get me interested in it. Oddly, a couple weeks after his suggestion we watched the movie Battle Royale with a few friends at Casey’s house. Weird.

Dear Internet…

I finished my story last night. Longest thing I’ve ever written. Just over 10,000 words. As I write that, I realize how sad that should make me. But I’m OK. I never finish anything. And I finished that bastard. Take that psyche, you nay saying bitch.

Now I have to start writing something else. I’ve been reading a lot today in an attempt to put off said writing. This blog post sits somewhere in between. I’m writing, it may have no purpose, but there are words being assembled into loosely coherent sentences. Again, I win.

I’ve been looking for a script from Flapjack or Better Off Ted. I want to write a spec for those shows but I want it to look right in their format. They both have a very distinctive feel that must look a specific way on the page. But alas, scripts for those two shows are no where to be found. I’ve found about a million scripts for Chuck. Nope, not going to do it.

I read the feature spec Abduction this evening. It recently sold for just under a million dollars. As I read it, losing track of the interchangeable characters, I died a little inside. I’m not saying it’s bad. I’m just saying that I could have written it. And the characters wouldn’t have been blank slates. At least I know that when I go and see it in the theater a few years from now, Shia LaBouf will be too old to play the main character.

It’s the little things.

Dragons, and the Dungeons who love them

A rifle’s single-shot capability forces the user to make each round count, increasing the chance of a hit. This feature also eliminates even the possibility of “rock ‘n’ rolling,”…                                                                        -Max Brooks, The Zombie Survival Guide

It’s this kind of forward thinking that allows the D&D player to flourish in life. Sure, they may be overweight and their faces may remind you of the leaving in a discarded pizza box, but I urge to give them a second look.

Take this situation in example. You’re riding an elevator. Suddenly, the power switches off, and it lurches to a stop. You may think that having that pretty secretary from the 15th floor locked inside the steel pendulum of death might make for an interesting afternoon. But what if no one comes for you? Pretty though she may be, 12 hours later she’ll be a sweaty, weepy mess that’s looking at you for answers. And you don’t have any answers. You have always been too busy with the ladies.

Enter IT guy. He was just upstairs fixing the CEO’s computer, making conversation with the man you’ve been trying to get a meeting with for the last 2 months. Now you’re stuck in an elevator with him. Too bad he’s not that pretty secretary, right? Wrong. After an hour of waiting, IT guy formulates a plan. You’ll boost him up through the access hatch, he’ll see that you are just below the 5th floor door, he’ll check for traps (of which there are none, but better safe than sorry), and then he’ll pop the door lock with his Swiss army knife (always be prepared) and open the doors by applying leverage to either side.

“How did you do that?” you’ll ask in your masculine voice.

The IT professional will smile and say, “We played out this exact situation during D&D.”

“What’s a D&D?” you’ll say stupidly.

But the IT guy is already gone. The power outage has wreaked havoc on the mainframe and he has a job to do. And you’ll be left alone, with nothing but cheap sex and expensive alcohol to keep you warm. And I will pity you.

Grouch, Oscar the

grouch

–verb (used without object)

1.	to be sulky or morose; show discontent; complain, esp. in an irritable way.

–noun

2.	a sulky, complaining, or morose person.

3.	a sulky, irritable, or morose mood.

I really like the word grouch, but I never use it. If I really loved it I would find ways to slip it into conversation. I tried to use it recently but it didn’t come out right and the conversation just turned to the Marx brothers.

I think grouch might be a bird as well. I hate birds.

grouch

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// ]]> /graʊtʃ/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [grouch] Show IPA

–verb (used without object)

1.	to be sulky or morose; show discontent; complain, esp. in an irritable way.

–noun

2.	a sulky, complaining, or morose person.

3.	a sulky, irritable, or morose mood.

The Professional II, a haiku

Shadows leap to hold

Only leaves see gentle hand

Grow away from this

My evil twin

My name is Petey, and I pretend to write in coffee shops.

You have no doubt seem me, huddled over my laptop, tapping away. Don’t come up to me to chat, I’ve got some very important looking things I need to be seen doing. I need the rush of a stranger’s fleeting glance. Their momentary thought that what I’m writing is something of consequence.

I have often considered writing an instructional book, on writing. This compulsion is only natural, those are the books I read. It’s my genre. Some may wonder if it’s a good idea for an unpublished, unoptioned writer to instruct others in the craft. I laugh at them. Those who can’t do, as the saying goes.

They’ve obviously never set foot on university grounds. At least writing can be a useful skill. I’m looking at you Professor Humanities, and you Doctor Latin. I’ll leave practical application to the suckers.

So here I sit, doing nothing, fooling no one, and I don’t even like coffee. Maybe tomorrow will be different? I doubt it.

Sincerely,

Petey

T – 15 till something

Job ends in 15 days. I have nothing lined up and no place to be. Time to make the move.