Monthly Archives: December 2018

2018 was not the year I anticipated

So out of 103 goals of varying complexity and importance, I accomplished 53 percent of them. That’s consistent with my performance for 2016 and 2017. As I don’t give myself any rewards for achieving them, I’m satisfied with the percentage. I set my list high, after all (rewards make a good incentive, but it’s hard to find something I wouldn’t do for myself or buy for myself anyway).

The bad news is that my creative output really fell way short of my aspirations. My top goal was to finish Southern Discomfort and submit it; didn’t happen. I wanted to finish four short stories; I didn’t manage any. I only occasionally pitched nonfiction pieces to any markets. I didn’t finish the Undead Sexist Cliches book.

The main reason was that my steady freelance gigs got in the way. Which is not a bad thing—I made well above my writing income goals for the year—but working on Leaf articles and Screen Rant took a lot of time. Particularly as the minimum Screen Rant listicle got longer and some of the topics got further away from my areas of expertise (like finding 17 secrets about the Nick TV show Victorious). Even though Screen Rants are fun and they gave me a chance to play with my writing style, I gave up the gig in the summer; it was just consuming too much of my writing week and Leaf, while duller, paid better.

I have learned from this. It’s the main reason I haven’t started submitting one nonfiction proposal in my files to publishers yet: I think it would just consume too much time and I’d like to do a lot more fiction in 2019.

I did self-publish the paperback edition of Atlas Shagged and Atoms for Peace, though, and I’m quite pleased with them. And I stuck to my goal of only checking email three times a day during work. And I finally got around to putting a PayPal donation link in the sidebar. Oh, and it occurs to me I don’t even bother setting any goals about staying as a full-time writer: barring disaster (which can’t be eliminated of course) it seems like I’m secure in that path.

In nonwriting goals, I kept the bird feeder filled, used sunscreen regularly when walking the dogs or bicycling and bicycled almost once every week (even discounting the weeks the weather didn’t permit it, I didn’t make the cut, but I’m doing better than last year). I called my elected officials off and on, and wrote them a couple of times, though I doubt it did much good (nor blogging about their pathetic performance). I traveled outside Durham several times, mostly with TYG (Mystacon was a solo act, on the other hand) and I got to see my brother and niece in October at my dad’s 90th birthday shindig.

Goals aside, it was a good year (not counting the frequent train wrecks emanating from President Shit-Gibbon). I snuggled with dogs and TYG, spent more social time than last year with friends, read a bunch of books and watched a lot of movies. I hung out more with the neighbors on our cul-de-sac and kept my weight to a reasonable level (not so much this past week, but that’s normal). I turned sixty and threw myself a birthday party (usually it’s just me and TYG). I enjoyed seeing my family (it’s not like they’re just a checkmark on a list) and catching up with my niece for the first time since she became an adult.

Next year I intend to keep having fun. But with more fiction. Details tomorrow.

Happy new year everyone.

#SFWApro. Cover by Gil Kane, all rights remain with current holder

 

 

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Filed under Atlas Shagged, Atoms for Peace, Personal, Screen Rant, Short Stories, Southern Discomfort, Time management and goals

Teen superheroes, nonfiction film, meditation and first contact: books

I’ve written before about my fondness for the original 1960s Teen Titans. TEEN TITANS: The Silver Age Volume 1 starts with their tryout issues of Brave and the Bold and Showcase then follows up with the first 11 issues of their own book as they battle drag racers, bikers, unruly college kids, renegade rockers and more. Lightweight fun with gorgeous art by Nick Cardy, though Bob Haney really did have a tin ear for hip teen dialogue (“We’re wild, woolly and full of gum drops!”).

Like Mark Harris’s Pictures at a Revolution, his FIVE CAME BACK: A Story of Hollywood and the Second World War uses a small set of stories to capture a big canvas. The focus is five directors (George Stevens, Frank Capra, William Wyler, John Huston and John Ford) who put their talents at the service of the War Department capturing combat footage (Ford’s famous Battle of Midway) or making documentaries explaining Why We Fight while coping with obstacles including timing (Steven and Huston both missed crucial Big Moments), military bureaucracy, accuracy (occasionally fudged) and shifting public taste (by the time the Why We Fight films came out, they were dated). From this Harris looks at the shifting attitudes towards making ripped-from-the-headlines movies, to the war, and to Jews (Hollywood moguls were aware that being pro-war would draw attention to their Jewishness) and post-war cinema. The theme doesn’t hold together as well as Harris’ previous book and it sometimes looks like he hasn’t seen the films he’s writing about (I would not describe Charles Coburn’s crotchety official in The More the Merrier as a kindly retiree). Still, it works overall.

DOCUMENTARY: A History of the Non-Fiction Film by Erik Barnouw starts with the early days of cinema when simply capturing the real world on film could hold an audience spellbound. Then Barnouw moves through the once legendary Eskimo documentary Nanook of the North and newsreels to the more activist political films of the 1930s, then such trends as historical documentaries made up of old film clips and Talking Heads films (I was surprised to learn this was once a novel idea). The book only runs through the 1980s, but it does a good job looking around the world (Soviet and Chinese documentaries, for instance) and exploring questions of authenticity, bias and fake news (which go back to the early days).

THE BICYCLE EFFECT: Cycling as Meditation by Juan Carlos Kreimer seemed worth reading as I both bicycle and meditate. Unfortunately too much of the book regurgitates factoids about bicycling and Kreimer’s cycling experiences, and the Zen stuff isn’t any different from many other books I’ve read. Still, being banal rather than actively awful puts it head and shoulders above Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.

FIRST CONTACTS: The Essential Murray Leinster left me with the feeling that like a lot of short-story writers, Leinster is better read in small doses; not that they’re bad, just that something in his style becomes dull with repetition. And his view of first contact is remarkably grim, a running theme being that one civilization will inevitably destroy the other if only in self-defense (First Contact has an Earth and an alien ship struggling to find a way out of that dilemma). The most famous story is A Logic Named Joe, which predicts desktop computers, the Internet, Google and cyberstalking (and it’s actually fun, too); others include Plague on Kryden II (a space doctor caught in a murder mystery), the whimsical Fourth Dimensional Demonstrator and Sideways In Time, a good parallel world story. Worth one look, but Leinster’s not someone I’ll ever love.

#SFWApro. Cover by Nick Cardy, all rights remain with current holder.

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Bad guys redeemed by the spirit of Christmas!

Although forger Humphrey Bogart insists that WE’RE NO ANGELS (1955), he, safecracker Peter Ustinov and rape-murderer Aldo Ray miraculously help shopkeeper Leo G. Carroll, spouse Joan Bennett and daughter Gloria Talbot have a very merry Christmas despite the malevolent presence of covetous relative Basil Rathbone. A charmer, except for the unpleasant running gag of Ray barely restraining his desire to rape Talbot. Tokyo Godfathers might make a good double bill. “If crime showed in a man’s face, there wouldn’t be any mirrors.”

THE CHRISTMAS SWITCH (2014) has street hustler Brian Krause accepting a million dollars from a mysterious spirit (“Call me Nick.”) to trade bodies with Natasha Henstridge’s dying father so the old guy can play department-store Santa one last time. Krause sees this as a chance to pull one really big score, but spoiler, he gets redeemed by the power of love! So-so, but still better than most of the new Christmas films I’ve caught this year. “And best of all, Santa has access to every child’s email address!”

A CHRISTMAS CAROL (1951) stars Alastair Sim as the perfect Ebenezer Scrooge, cold and arrogant at first yet cracking almost immediately when confronted with what a waste his life has been. But like most people, he doesn’t want to change, even for the better, and so he resists to the bitter end … A great film with a stable of veteran British character actors, including Patrick Macnee as young Marley. “Christmas has a habit of keeping men from doing business.”

Annoyingly, MR. SCROOGE WILL SEE YOU NOW(2013) would have qualified for inclusion in Now and Then We Time Travel but I missed it. The film itself shows flashes of potential but doesn’t do anything with them: a year after the original novel, Marley propels Scrooge into the 21st century where Timothy Cratchitt VI is about to foreclose on “Belle Dickinson’s” diner, sneering at her for prioritizing helping the poor over profits. Can Scrooge turn Tiny Tim’s descendant around? Uninspired, but it’s nice to see a Christian film that puts such emphasis on caring for the needy and giving the beggar your coat rather than the right-wing issues prioritized in Time Changer. A last minute plot twist makes me suggest Sayles’ Lone Star as a double bill. “Here’s my plan: you distract him, I put two scoops of rat poison in his coffee.”

HOLIDAY CALENDAR (2018) is a slightly more magical version of Christmas Calendar in that the antique advent calendar Kat Graham (Bonnie on Vampire Diaries) acquires has actual future-predicting power, but as it doesn’t affect the story any, who cares? Graham is a twentysomething photographer struggling with the usual dead-end job and dead-end love life before her lifelong male bestie turns things around on both fronts. I do wonder if we won’t see a horror version of this gimmick soon (“The calendar shows snow — one of us will freeze to death today!”). “You smell of Cheetos and despair.”

SZ Sakall, Barbara Stanwyck, Dennis Morgan, Una O’Connor and Sidney Greenstreet wind up spending CHRISTMAS IN CONNECTICUT (1945) as a result of one nurse’s Hail Mary play to get war hero Dennis Morgan to propose. Along with its skating-on-the-edge-of-adultery aspect, the film is more relaxed about gender roles than I’d expect: Stanwyck’s complete lack of domestic talent isn’t treated anywhere near as harshly as Katherine Hepburn’s in Woman of the Year and Morgan is actually better with babies than she is. “John, when you kiss me, would you please not talk about plumbing.”

As usual we marked Christmas Day with A CHRISTMAS STORY (1984) in which Ralphie’s dreams of a Red Ryder BB gun run afoul of mom Melinda Dillon, a strict teacher and even Santa before the happy ending. Always a pleasure. “There was only one thing that could lure me away from the glow of electric sex.”

As TYG bought me THE GIRL ON THE BRIDGE (1999) for Christmas, I figured I’d watch it while she took a nap. This is an extremely quirky French drama cum rom-com in which suicidal Vanessa Paradis (“I never pick the lucky number.”) meets knife-thrower Daniel Auteuil, who convinces her as she has nothing to lose, she might as well work as his new target (“At my age, I’m not what I used to be.”). This proves to be a smarter move than either character anticipated, as together they turn out to be each others’ good-luck charm. This never quite goes where I expected, and it was definitely worth following the journey. “Focus on that sugar as if your life depended on it.”

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The Dismal Dregs of Defeat! Okay, delayed victory, that’s not so bad

Well, Southern Discomfort will not be wrapped up by midnight on the 31st. However, it will definitely be done next week (barring illness, exploding computer, etc.) so I can live with it. It would have been nicely symbolic though.

Thursday did me in. One of the car dashboard Danger lights was flashing so I took it in Thursday morning. Trouble was I woke up very early as I so often do; as I was going to have to drive the car and I prefer to do that when I’m not exhausted I kept trying to go back to sleep instead of getting up and writing. Didn’t work, but I did grab enough shut-eye to make it to the dealer and back (and in the best tradition, the light went off as soon as I got there. They couldn’t find anything wrong either). But I was pretty wiped, and the day was not productive. I still made it past 85,000 words this week so the end is in sight (it’s currently at slightly over 96,000)

So as there’s not much else to talk about, let’s talk about time management.

A while back I decided to give the pomodoro method another try. This is the one where you spend 25 minutes completely focused, then five minutes doing something else; every four pomodoro half-hours, you take a longer break. I committed to doing at least one day a week that way, adjusted for the facts of life (if I followed the formula exactly I’d wind up taking the dogs for lunch walkies late. Bad idea).

It’s proven quite effective at focusing me. Even when I’m not actually running the pomodoro timer (i.e., my phone’s stop watch) I’m concentrating better. As I’ve mentioned before, whatever time hacks I try usually run out of steam but for the moment this one’s working. If anything, I’m having trouble with remembering to take breaks if I don’t use the timer. Contrary to pomodoro theory it is, in fact, possible to keep going longer than 25 minutes. However I do find my mind fritzing and getting muzzy a lot sooner, so I’m trying to avoid that. Giving myself a break is a smarter move.

A second trick I’ve found effective is keeping a short list of my most important tasks. Not necessarily immediate tasks or complicated ones but ones that have to be done for whatever reason. Having the list and marking it off works better than mixing them into my calendar app or my general list of monthly goals.

Another time tactic I’ll be imposing on myself in January is starting the day on time. Even when I wake up ultra-early, I usually start my morning routines (exercise, Yoga, breakfast, tea and TV) about the same time (5 AM roughly). But it’s very easy to watch a little extra TV or sit around playing on my computer and not start the actual work day on schedule (7 AM or 7:30 AM depending on whether I’m doing exercise in the morning). I think meeting the official start time will help my focus in the morning. And obviously make a little more space in the day for productive work. It’s particularly important because due to TYG’s schedule I’m often doing more dog-wrangling in the morning so every little bit of time gained helps.

#SFWApro. Cover by Jack Kirby, all rights remain with current holder.

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Filed under Nonfiction, Southern Discomfort, The Dog Ate My Homework, Time management and goals

Christmas ended, good feelings remain

As usual, our Christmas was a quiet one. Up, walk dogs, eat, open gifts. Watch A Christmas Story. Then just hang out, nap, whatever.

TYG is a pathogen-nerd so I’ve been getting her books on disease for several years (“I gave my wife syphilis for Christmas!” ROFL). This year it was malaria. Plus a couple of non-disease books she asked for, some bath salts and bath bombs and clips for open bags of food (we’ve only got one, and it’s broken, so she asked for more as a stocking stuffer). While I often make her a dessert, she’s trying to eat healthier so we skipped that bit.

I got, as usual, assorted gift cards from various relatives. From TYG I got two movies on my Amazon list, The Girl on the Bridge (which I watched that afternoon) and a new release of Yellow Submarine. I also got some mason jars for the kitchen (they now hold honey and hot-chocolate mix), McVittie’s chocolate digestive biscuits (mmmm) and a trip to a local store to restock my tea jars. And an iTunes gift card, which went on Pat Benatar, Bye, Bye Birdie and part of a Mount Moriah album.

Wednesday we squeezed out one last bit of Christmas cheer, attending TYG’s alumni holiday party. Excellent food, good conversation and a fun time. And I was able to use up some of the beer we bought but didn’t use for the writer’s group Christmas party by bringing it with us.

I love Christmas.

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Sexism plus a few other hate-related links

One study found women on Tinder are slightly pickier than men. The neo-Nazi Daily Stormer says the best way to fix that would be rape.

Another whining conservative women complains feminism is about destroying men.

Amish rape culture.

The ever wacky Federalist defends Donald Trump’s adultery by arguing men who watch porn are also adulterers. There are also men’s rights activists who think feminists want men masturbating to porn so they can drain men’s strength away.

The American-based World Congress of Families does its best to promote anti-gay activists overseas.

A right-wing website says Michelle Obama dresses like a hooker. But it’s Melania Trump who’s being unfairly attacked! And speaking of attacks, no, Hilary Clinton did not decorate the White House Christmas tree with crack pipes and cock rings.

Another day, another wave of harassment scandals ignored by the employer — in this case Dartmouth (confirming my previous post about the logic of cover-ups). Johnny Depp’s ex Amber Heard (who went public with her own account of abuse), compares cover-ups to the Titanic: if an actor, academic, CEO is important to keeping your job afloat, the priority becomes patching up the holes and saving the ship.

Echidne points out that while the far right movements rising around the globe may be different in many ways, they all hate women.

Theocrat Bryan Fischer has said we need a new underground railroad to get kids away from same-sex parents. When he got flak for the idea, he lied about ever saying it.

A look at macho bullying culture in Bret Kavanaugh’s alma mater.

Slacktivist looks at sex scandals among Independent Baptist Churches.

Abuse lawsuits against the Boy Scouts are breaking the BSA financially. So men’s rights activists blame feminism.

Perhaps the best recommendation for the Muslim women newly elected to Congress is that Saudi Arabia despises them.

Alexandria Ocasia-Cortez is already criticizing corporate lobbyists for trying to influence the incoming Congress.

Eliza Dushku was poised to become a recurring character on the TV show Bull. Then she reported on-set harassment and things blew up. Variety has more. And before that there was Dushku’s experiences as an underage teen on the movie True Lives.

“The woman does not have any agency in this model of male sexuality. What she wants or doesn’t want is either erased or subordinated to what he wants or can’t have.” A recovered Quiverful woman on modesty culture.

“The Old Boy’s defining characteristic may just be that he wants. It’s not clear what he wants, and in the end, it doesn’t much matter. His drive lacks focus and can’t be satisfied, but it can’t be stopped by things like ethics or law or introspection. And he’s terribly scared of losing.”

Ross Douthat’s post about how wonderful WASPs are is just a gussied-up call for white supremacy.

The Betsy DeVos Department of Education is pushing rules that allow college professors and administrators to ignore sexual harassment and rape.

 

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Random images for boxing day

I did work Monday but I didn’t get around to creating a coherent post for today. So instead, some images, starting with Herb Trimpe’s death of Adam Warlock.

Next, a James Bama Doc Savage cover.

Curt Swan gives us a real hook of a cover.

So does Nick Cardy.

And Gene Colan showing us the end of Earth.

Gervasio Gallardo gives us an odd and eerie fantasy feel.

I suppose I could just have skipped today but I’ve been blogging without missing a day for more than a year, so I wanted to keep it up.

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Christmas! Festivus! Hanukkah! Yule! Eid! Kwanzaa! Diwali! Or just for the heck of it!

To expand slightly on the title: if you celebrate Christmas today, have a merry one. If you celebrate/have celebrated any other festival this winter, I hope that’s just as merry. If you don’t celebrate anything, I hope everyday life is merry enough.

We do celebrate Christmas, so here are some photos of the tree.

That’s right, there are photos of Plushie and Trixie among the ornaments. Sharp eyes!

I got the Christmas Story leg-lamp ornament from my sister.

And for amusement, check out We Hunted the Mammoth’s look at sexy Christmas ads.

Christmas day is in our grasp, as long as we have hands to clasp.

#SFWApro. Photos are mine, please credit me if you use them.

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Covers for Christmas Eve

I didn’t feel quite like writing a political post for today, so I’m going with covers. First a typically intriguing one by Powers.

Next, one by Bob Maguire showing that female spies apparently didn’t wear much clothing. Covers like this had me mesmerized as a teen with the hint of S-E-X.

Next a couple of weird ones by Leo and Diane Dillon.

And although it’s not a cover, I’ve been meaning to post this Stan Lee piece about bigotry since I saw it online after his passing.

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The first hero of Hell’s kitchen and more: TPBs read

OMEGA THE UNKNOWN CLASSIC by Steve Gerber and Jim Mooney (primarily) was one of the odder series of the Bronze Age. When a robot army overwhelms an alien planet, the last survivor journeys to Earth, ending up in Hell’s Kitchen. Meanwhile, a young teen named James-Michael sees his parents die in a very strange accident, his mother warning him of “the voices.” James-Michael, who seems about one step removed from a Vulcan emotionally, winds up in Hell’s Kitchen too. Hmm, coincidence?

No, though we never learn what the connection is as Gerber left Marvel shortly after the series was canceled; the cliffhanger ending promises a resolution in Defenders, which is odd as Gerber already left that book. What we do get is a Omega and James-Michael trying to make sense of life on Earth from their different perspectives, while also battling some villains, most memorably the Fool-Killer (“Live as a poem, or die as a fool!”). The slowly unwinding mystery of their origins was one thing that made the book stand out; another was the very gritty, brutal portrayal of their neighborhood where bars on the window and drunks passed out on the sidewalk are common. James-Michael’s school is particularly hellish; when a bully comes after one of his friends, it’s horrifyingly brutal (and ultimately fatal). This kind of thing would be common a decade later, but in the Bronze Age this was exceptionally hard-edged.

The TPB includes the two-part resolution in Defenders by Steven Grant, and it’s dreadful. The explanation for everything that happened is workable (given Grant didn’t have any guidance from Gerber where the story was going), but the ending is so crowded it gets laughable. James-Michael gets power cosmic! Corrupted by power he almost destroys the world!  A friend jumps in the line of fire so he suddenly decides to destroy himself instead! The psychic Moondragon reveals this was all Defenders’ fault for getting involved (this attempt to add a tragic spin falls completely flat). Too bad when Marvel did another Omega series years later they went with Jonathan Lethem rather than asking Gerber to finally write his ending.

FLASH: Perfect Storm by Joshua Williamson worked much better than it deserved: Grodd launches a scheme to gain control of the Speed Force, forcing Barry to recruit both Wally Wests (pre- and post-New 52) plus enemies such as Negative Flash and Godspeed to stop him. It’s a lively, action-packed tale and I love that Iris shows she’s whip-smart in the middle of this. However it shows what a joke “reboot the series to simplify continuity” is — it’s been seven years since the New 52, and I doubt any newbie could make headway through this (“Why are there two Wally Wests?” for instance). And it doesn’t work at all that so many stories and villains revolve around the Speed Force (Black Hole, Negative Flash, Multiplex, Godspeed, Hunter Zolomon and Grodd, for instance).

HICKSVILLE by Dylan Horrocks is an indie graphic novel that starts well — comics journalist Leonard Batts receives mysterious pages of old comics that lead him to Hicksville New Zealand — but doesn’t pull off the landing. In Hicksville, Leonard has to grapple with all sorts of mysteries, such as a store having a complete run of Action Comics back to #1, and why hometown comics superstar Dick Burger is a pariah there. The Big Reveal was interesting but not enough to justify the story, and too much of the story didn’t work; the longest chapter focuses on Dick Burger as Hollywood mogul, and it’s a mix of corruption and glitz I’ve seen countless times. Not without its merits, but not a lot of them.

RASPUTIN: The Voice of the Dragon by Mike Mignola, Chris Robertson and Christopher Mitten looks like the start of a new running series rather than the standalone I expected. It’s 1941, Professor Bruttenholm is working for British intelligence and he begins to suspect a Nazi occult conspiracy involving a British order of mystics. Little does he know that he’s about to meet Rasputin, allied with the Nazis to bring about the appearance of Hellboy on the mortal plane. However as that’s three years off, I imagine we’ll have more adventures before then. Good, though “the non-white supporting character dies first” is a trope I wish they hadn’t deployed.

#SFWApro. Cover by Ed Hannigan, all rights remain with current holder.

 

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