A few years ago I published a crime story in the electronic anthology (doesn't that sound nicer than "e-book"?) West Coast Crime Wave, which I see is only a buck on Kindle today. (Or maybe it's been that way since 2011 when it was a temporary Christmas sale. Anyway, the publishers were ambitious-seeming but this was the only book produced so far.) Ken Bruen in the introduction said that he liked my story the best, which was neat. Also neat, the podcast Crime City Central has recorded the story, The People's Republic of Everywhere and Everything for your free listening pleasure. It starts around twenty-one minutes in, and features a rather creative pronunciation of the word "patchouli." So check that out.
One thing about signing in to LJ these days—the birthday reminders on the front page, ninety percent of which are for people I've not heard from or even thought of, in years. (Incidentally, today is Trayvon Martin's birthday. He would have been nineteen if not for the actions of a successful artist and celebrated sportsman.) William S. Burroughs would have been 100 today, but his life was tragically cut short by drugs at the age of 83.
I've been doing some anthology work recently with Team Rocket, and I'm reminded of how ridiculous authors are. Yesterday I had to take a picture of myself with someone's signed and countersigned contract, my finger pointing to his name, to remind him that he indeed sent it in. Also, nobody knows how to fill out an invoice. Also, when people catch wind of these projects, they often do exactly the wrong thing when querying me about the possibility of submitting. Ah well, it's almost over.
I tend to think that Woody Allen did molest Dylan Farrow, but I certainly have no proof. This sort of thing, a "re-watch" by Esquire Magazine though, is unhelpful in the extreme. It's basically someone looking at the sexual themes of Allen's films, and finding that his protagonists often enjoy sleeping with or wish to sleep with older teens. In this, they are like every Hollywood movie ever made. Also, what psychological conclusions can be drawn from, say, a brief overview of the work of Dennis Cooper, or Stephen King, or Nick Mamatas? Back when Seung-Hui Cho shot up Virginia Tech, every writing workshop teacher became an instant therapist, closely reading student stories for signs of a potential mass shooter. Luckily, it didn't go on for very long, since more than half of the undergraduate creative work by male students read exactly like Cho's. Also, I have to say that this is probably one of the weirdest first sentences of a Wikipedia entry ever: Seung-Hui Cho[2] (/ˌtʃoʊ sʌŋˈhiː/;) (January 18, 1984 – April 16, 2007) was a Korean playwright and mass murderer who killed 32 people and wounded 17 others on April 16, 2007, at Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University in Blacksburg, Virginia.[3] Korean playwright! I can't wait for some kid who has to write about theatrical traditions in Asia for a school paper to find this entry... Anyway, Allen's movies, most of which are riffs on the books he read as a youth, have as little to do with his (likely) guilt as all the personal foibles of Mia Farrow have to do with the veracity of her daughter's accusations.
My baby is a babbler.
One thing about signing in to LJ these days—the birthday reminders on the front page, ninety percent of which are for people I've not heard from or even thought of, in years. (Incidentally, today is Trayvon Martin's birthday. He would have been nineteen if not for the actions of a successful artist and celebrated sportsman.) William S. Burroughs would have been 100 today, but his life was tragically cut short by drugs at the age of 83.
I've been doing some anthology work recently with Team Rocket, and I'm reminded of how ridiculous authors are. Yesterday I had to take a picture of myself with someone's signed and countersigned contract, my finger pointing to his name, to remind him that he indeed sent it in. Also, nobody knows how to fill out an invoice. Also, when people catch wind of these projects, they often do exactly the wrong thing when querying me about the possibility of submitting. Ah well, it's almost over.
I tend to think that Woody Allen did molest Dylan Farrow, but I certainly have no proof. This sort of thing, a "re-watch" by Esquire Magazine though, is unhelpful in the extreme. It's basically someone looking at the sexual themes of Allen's films, and finding that his protagonists often enjoy sleeping with or wish to sleep with older teens. In this, they are like every Hollywood movie ever made. Also, what psychological conclusions can be drawn from, say, a brief overview of the work of Dennis Cooper, or Stephen King, or Nick Mamatas? Back when Seung-Hui Cho shot up Virginia Tech, every writing workshop teacher became an instant therapist, closely reading student stories for signs of a potential mass shooter. Luckily, it didn't go on for very long, since more than half of the undergraduate creative work by male students read exactly like Cho's. Also, I have to say that this is probably one of the weirdest first sentences of a Wikipedia entry ever: Seung-Hui Cho[2] (/ˌtʃoʊ sʌŋˈhiː/;) (January 18, 1984 – April 16, 2007) was a Korean playwright and mass murderer who killed 32 people and wounded 17 others on April 16, 2007, at Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University in Blacksburg, Virginia.[3] Korean playwright! I can't wait for some kid who has to write about theatrical traditions in Asia for a school paper to find this entry... Anyway, Allen's movies, most of which are riffs on the books he read as a youth, have as little to do with his (likely) guilt as all the personal foibles of Mia Farrow have to do with the veracity of her daughter's accusations.
My baby is a babbler.