Oh mais oui: Dino with a gun

Now playing on the iPod - "Can't See (Useless)" - Oingo Boingo

I swear, this picture must be from some awesome dream I once had.

What the world needs is a movie that stars dinosaurs with huge guns. There is no way this concept cannot succeed.

Someone start pitching the studio execs, and I'll get to work on the screenplay.

Writing craft: I feel conflicted

In one of his old stand-up bits, Steve Martin claimed, "Those French have a different word for everything!"

But it's really the Germans who have the words for everything. Like weltanschauung: a personal philosophy of life and the universe. Or my personal favorite, schadenfreude: pleasure derived from the misfortunes of others.

What I need now is a word for a feeling I often have toward writers when they present a story that rips my heart out, and yet they do it so well I admire them. It's a feeling of wanting to shake the writer's hand and say "Well played, sir (or madam)" and at the same time wanting to punch the writer in the nose and say, "How could you?"

We need a word for this feeling. Germans, get to it. Whoever comes up with the word gets dinner at my house, I'll make my awesome latkes for you.

If you're wondering what brought this on, I just watched the "Seeing Red" episode in Season Six of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Well played, Joss Whedon. Now stand still so I can punch you in the nose.

The cruel irony is that I really hope one day a reader will say "well played" to me and then punch me in the nose. Because the story would not evoke these feelings if the reader did not care about the characters and was not drawn into the writer's imaginary world. A strong reader response means the writer has done his or her job and done it well.

Review: Horns

Now playing on the iPod - "Prelude in C Major" - J. S. Bach

My review of Joe Hill's new book Horns is up at Horrorview.com.

Watch this now: Horrifying monkey

What evil, evil person put an animatronic monkey head on a Roomba?

This is wrong in so many ways.

Now that's what I call writing: Bret Easton Ellis

Now playing on the iPod: "Suite #3 in D, BMV 1068 - Air" - J. S. Bach

So I finally got around to reading Bret Easton Ellis' American Psycho. I'd always wanted to since its controversial publication. (To whom it may concern: it doesn't matter which end of the political spectrum you're on, if you tell me I shouldn't read a book or watch a movie or listen to an album, I'm going to be all over that book/movie/album like nobody's business. It's in my nature.)

Yes, there are some extremely gruesome scenes (one in particular I wish had never crossed my retinas, but it's too late to do anything about that now). But what no one ever told me is that this book is funny.

Probably the funniest aspect of the book is the descriptions of the food. (I nearly always love food descriptions in books.) Most of this food sounds so perfectly awful - oddball combinations like pinto beans with salmon and mint, or quail sashimi with grilled brioche - and it's clearly ordered just for the diners to show how affluent and stylish they are, not to actually EAT anything.

Which leads to the passage of the book that made me guffaw:

"The client had the boudin blanc, the roasted chicken and the cheesecake," he says.

"Cheesecake?" I say, confused by this plain, alien-sounding list. "What sauce or fruits were on the roasted chicken? What shapes was it cut into?"

"None, Patrick," he says, also confused. "It was...roasted."

"And the cheesecake, what flavor? Was it heated?" I say. "Ricotta cheesecake? Goat cheese? Were there flowers or cilantro in it?"

"It was just...regular," he says, and then, "Patrick, you're sweating."

"What did she have?" I ask, ignoring him. "The client's bimbo."

"Well, she had the country salad, the scallops and the lemon tart," Luis says.

"The scallops were grilled? Were they sashimi scallops? In a ceviche of sorts?" I'm asking. "Or were they gratinized?"

"No, Patrick," Luis says. "They were...broiled."

It's silent in the boardroom as I contemplate this, thinking it through before asking, finally, "What's 'broiled', Luis?"

"I'm not sure," he says. "I think it involves...a pan."

Reading over this passage, I'm realizing afresh why I let my subscription to a cooking magazine lapse: they started including recipes for things like green tea cheesecake, which sounds like something the characters in American Psycho would order.

Review: Dragon Keeper

My review of Robin Hobb's fantasy novel Dragon Keeper is up at Horrorview.com. Enjoy!

It's funny because it's true

Now playing on the iPod: "Chick Habit" - April March

From the Onion: Nation Shudders at Large Block of Uninterrupted Text.

Nerditry alert!

Look what I bought with my tax refund money.

Yes, it's the Phantom of the Paradise mask. I watched the movie at what was probably way too young of an age, and it made a big impression on me. In fact, it was the first movie I reviewed for Horrorview. It's my belief that if I hadn't seen movies like this in my formative years, I'd have ended up a completely normal person.

And how boring would THAT be?

Big thanks to my buddy Jeremy Koerner for letting me know this mask was available on eBay.

Now all I need is a cape, dress up in some black leather and I have my costume for Halloween. Or perhaps for the Weekend of Horror con, or Comic-Con? Oh the possibilities.

Review: Heat Wave

My review of Heat Wave, the book that ties in with the Castle TV series (Mondays at 10 on ABC, or do what I do and watch it on Hulu) is up at Horrorview.com

Watch this now: "Hamlet" would have ended differently...

... if Ophelia had a sassy gay friend to talk sense into her!

This made me chuckle. Now to contemplate... what other literary works could use a sassy gay friend?

Review: Dawn of the Dreadfuls

My review of the latest Jane Austen/zombies mashup, Dawn of the Dreadfuls, is up at Horrorview.com.

Save the date: 2010 L.A. Times Festival of Books

SoCal bibliophiles always leave the last weekend in April open on their calendars, for the L.A. Times Festival of Books. Panel information is still to come but the author list is up - check it out!

I'm glad to see that one member of my Imaginary Literary Family - my Adopted Crazy Uncle Who Swears A Lot and Tells Awesome Stories - will be there. Yes, Mr. James Ellroy. Now I just need to get The Cold Six Thousand and Blood's a Rover read by then.

No sign of Ray Bradbury, though. And I probably won't catch him at Comic-Con this year either. Waaaah.

Review: The Unseen

My review of the mediocre Old Dark House movie The Unseen (filmed partially in Solvang!) is up at Horrorview.com.

That didn't work out the way I thought it would

Now playing on the iPod: "Going Out West" - Tom Waits

I was reading the "Rikki-Tikki-Tavi" story from The Jungle Book to Young Master. I was having a great time - the whole book's a favorite of mine and the copy I was reading is the one I had when I was a kid.

Much as I did when I was young, Young Master likes snakes. Maybe he likes them a bit too much. He was inconsolable when the mongoose killed the evil cobras and now he hates all mongooses and wants a story in which snakes are the heroes. (If you know of any, please send the titles my way!) I'll have to check Just So Stories and see if there are any heroic snakes in that.

Review: Kingdom of the Spiders

Now playing on the iPod: "No Myth" - Michael Penn

My review of the "hundreds of tarantulas vs. William Shatner" epic Kingdom of the Spiders is up at Horrorview.com.

Why it's harder than ever to make a career as a writer

A recent editorial in the L. A. Times explores why it's increasingly difficult to establish a career as a writer.

Several disheartening things in that piece, but the one thing I want to take away from it is that if you truly have a love for the writing, nothing can take that away from you.

My favorite quote from the piece:

"Each time we sit down to create something, we are risking our whole selves. But when the result is the transformation of anger, disappointment, sorrow, self-pity, guilt, perverseness and wounded innocence into something deep and concrete and abiding - that is a personal and artistic triumph well worth the long and solitary trip."

That's what it's all about.

Review: The Long Last Call

My review of John Skipp's novel The Long Last Call is up at Horrorview.com.

New to the shelves: February 2010

Now playing on the iPod - "Llorando" - Rebekah del Rio (Mulholland Drive soundtrack)

While in Solvang recently, I just had to stop by my favorite indie bookstores. I came home with:

The Beach - Alex Garland

Double Whammy - Carl Hiaasen

Hyperion - Dan Simmons

The Fire Gospel - Michel Faber

A Rose for the Crown - Anne Easter Smith

Those to-be-read shelves never get smaller, do they? Wish I knew why...

Writer's retreat 2010: Belated trip report

On the last Friday in January I zipped up to Solvang to lock myself in a hotel room and do a read-through and edits of my mainstream MS The Day After Yesterday. It was a true working weekend, and here's how it went, with lots of superfluous details:

Friday: Because Mr. Cozy needed the van and the (20-year-old) truck was being squirrelly, I rented a car for the jaunt. Said car, a Hyundai Sonata, was 100% personality free but surprisingly zippy. So after work on Friday I loaded up the car with travel case, manuscript, red pens, and a large supply of coffee, and headed up to Solvang. On the way the radio provided excellent music that boded well - a lot of things my characters would listen to. KSWD lasted me until I was a little north of Ventura (I lost the signal in the middle of "Sultans of Swing", damn the luck). After a stop in Carpinteria for food I found a XM satellite station "Classic Vinyl" that fit the bill. As I drove through Santa Barbara I waved hi to my BookBalloon friends Lauren and Lynn (I was the doofus in the gray Hyundai, bobbing my head and singing along to "Sugar Magnolia"). Arrived at the Royal Copenhagen Inn without incident. This was the second writer's retreat I've done at the Royal Copenhagen - there are inns in Solvang whose accommodations I like a little better, but this one works best for a writer's retreat. It's centrally located and I can't hear the town's clock tower (makes it easier to get lost in the work). I unpacked and went to bed.

Saturday: A stay at the Royal Copenhagen includes complimentary danish and coffee at Mortensen's Bakery across the street, so I had coffee and a blueberry danish. Yum. Then it was back to the room to work. There's something so daunting and yet so exciting about opening up the manuscript, red pen in hand, getting ready to read it all through and make corrections. The corrections are important - this time out they mostly involved trimming fat and tightening up sentences, but if 9 out of 10 pages don't have red markups, that means I'm not attending to things properly. I worked until housekeeping came by, at which point I went across the street to Valley Books. I camped out in one of their comfy chairs with a cappucino, and later bought some books from them (details in a future post). Then it was back to the room for lunch (fruit, cheese and crackers, that sort of thing) and I worked until it was nearly time for dinner. Which was at Cafe Angelica, a bistro that has the best fettucine with lobster. Yum. Then more work.

Sunday: Breakfast not at the bakery this time but at Paula's Pancake House. I did not actually have pancakes - instead I had eggs Benedict. Yum. Then I hightailed it back to the room for work. More words, more words, more markups with the red pen. It's nice when you can rediscover your own book and laugh at something, or scowl at what a bastard a particular character is. I made lunch and dinner on the light side, took only minimal breaks to come up for air, and can you believe it? Finished the read-through late that night!

Monday: Had almond croissant and coffee at Mortensen's, then packed up and checked out. I spent the morning doing a bit of looking around, said hello to my local friend Jenny. Had lunch at Paula's (bacon and eggs - damn they have good bacon), then hopped into the Hyundai and went home. Did not wave hello to Lynn and Lauren on the way down (I was distracted by the satellite radio playing "Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey", a song I for which I can never forgive Paul McCartney, no matter how many one-legged women he divorces). Got home, unpacked, returned the rental.

And now, the task of entering all those markups into the Word document (trust me, it may seem outdated to do hard copy markups but those work for me). I'm on chapter 3 now, with only thirty-some more to go. Sigh.

Sigh

I understand that movies take liberties when adapting books and using well-established characters.

But some people don't.