Remus Shepherd

So I've signed up for Online Writing Workshop, aka OWW.

At first glance it looks exactly like Critters. I didn't like Critters because of the extreme variability in critiques. You might get ten people telling you one thing, another ten telling you something else, and another ten making no sense at all. Worse, all of those people were effectively random; I didn't know anyone there, and so everyone was a stranger to me, and I found it hard to track when someone reviewed more than one of my stories.

(Can I make another profane analogy for a moment? Random, anonymous critiques of varying quality makes Critters the 'glory hole' of online workshops. There, I said it.)

OWW is like an evolved Critters, I suppose. People I talked to at Convergence told me that the yearly membership fee removes the chaff, and so the critiques are better and more even. There are some tools for tracking other members' submissions and reviews, so it looks like it's possible to get to know someone there. And there's no requirement that you critique to remain active -- I like having less pressure. I'm an obstinate, contrary person. When someone orders me to do something, I find myself compelled to do the opposite. So I'll pressure myself, thankew.

Think I'll run Platinum Donkeys through OWW, since my crit group isn't going to get around to seeing it (they're still on Wally). Just not sure whether I should start now or wait until it's finished. (And it will be finished, soon. Although I just entered what looks like the third Act, and...well, that's another post. :) )

Okay, I need a ruling.

Can alt.devilbunnies be seen as Watership Down fan fiction?

Because if so, I could be said to be a fanfic author. One who was fairly successful, for my time. :)

So, funny exchange the other day where my mouth got four steps ahead of my brain. Fortunately only Mrs. Redhead and an 18 year old friend of the family were there to witness it.

***

18-year old Friend: Boys find me intimidating. I don't know why.
Mrs. Redhead: You're pretty, and you're smarter than they are.
Me: You're like Emma Frost.
Friend: ???
Mrs. Redhead: ???
Me: You read Marvel comics, right? There are three kinds of girls in Marvel's world. There's Mary Jane -- she doesn't have any special talents, nor is she very confident. So she glommed onto a stronger man and spends her day job being sexually objectified for profit.
Friend: I'm not sure Mary Jane is --
Me: Then there's Jane Grey. She has talent, but not self-confidence. So she was pretty much in an equal partnership with Cyclops.
Friend: Okay.
Me: You're like Emma Frost. She has amazing talents and incredible self-confidence. She wound up leading the X-Men. She stole Cyclops and used him as a chew toy. She had anal sex with Tony Stark for five years --
Mrs. Redhead: Stop talking now.
Me: (sulks)
Friend: (laughing)
Me: I was just trying to make a point.
Mrs. Redhead: Stop making it.
Me: If you've got the talent *and* the confidence, you need to lead. Be a leader, not a partner, not a follower.
Mrs. Redhead: Got it. Now stop talking.
Me: Okay.

***

And before you say, 'How does being slammed by Tony Stark translate into leadership?' It's obvious. Tony Stark is at the apex of the Marvel superhero fuck club. He's the pinnacle, he's the top. That Emma Frost bagged him is proof that there's nothing the woman can't do if she put her mind to it.

I don't know why people don't understand these little rants of mine. They make perfect sense to me. :)

Well, I made it through another convention, Convergence.

Not as bad as Fourth Street. Part of that is that I was with Mrs. Redhead most of the time. And another part is that we didn't spend much time at the convention -- I'm in town more to support her (her father is in the last stage of pancreatic cancer, and there's a lot of sadness in her life right now).

But beyond that, I think I understand some more about my interaction with large groups of people...or at least groups like this one.

The first day I was tense and snarling, like I typically am around hordes of people. I get frustrated by every little stupidity I witness, and I'm always looking over my shoulder in case someone starts shouting, "Unclean! Stone him!!" This is the stage where I hate everyone around me.

The second day I'm looser because I no longer give a shit. After being under too much tension for too long, something gives and I begin to just not care what people around me think. Mentally, I make the hordes disappear -- I ignore them, and they cease to bother me. Yes, in this stage I'm antisocial, but at least I start to have fun.

The third day surprised me. I thought antisocial but functional was as good as I was going to get...but now that I was carefully studying my own reactions, I saw another phase set in. By the third day I began to interact with people, and I walked around with more confidence. What sparked this stage? The realization that I had my shit together better than 90% of the people that I saw. They may not be as fucked up as I am (or maybe some of them are), but very few of them qualify as exceptional, and I think that I do. This stage is a bit scary. I'm more than functional, I'm confident, but I'm also a narcississtic asshole. I walked onto a dance floor last night, picturing everyone else there as meat. (Which is hilarious, considering how badly I danced. My pockets were full of heavy things like ipods and cellphones, which caused my pants to keep slipping down, and my sneakers kept getting stuck on the rug. The good news is that my bad leg held up well.)

So. The problem with Fourth Street is that I never got past phase 1 -- I never got to the phase where I didn't care what anyone thought, because I care what *those* people think. They're writers, and I want to be part of that crowd.

The third stage is a bit overconfident, but as long as I keep hold of my tongue it should be okay to lapse into. My predatory instincts only came out in my mind; I didn't say or do anything stupid. (Although I do have a funny exchange to tell you all in another post.)

Okay. Enough self-analysis. I need to chill out and relax in crowds, but keep my head and not be an asshole. Which, I know, everyone could have told me already. Still, self-knowledge will hopefully translate into ability. Next time.

Have you heard the latest? Strap yourselves in, we're going for a ride.

Russian surveillance has proven that Michael Jackson was killed by a satellite-based electromagnetic radiation weapon, capable of causing heart attacks in individuals from orbit -- when they're not being used for mind control. This assassination was obviously performed by the CIA to prevent Jackson from using his new tour to warn the world about an upcoming pandemic engineered in the soon-to-be-released swine flu vaccine that is intended to kill half the world's current population. The proof of this is in the swine flu itself, whose genome has been shown to be a weaponized version of the 1918 pandemic flu. But don't worry, intrepid journalists like the folks at Metafilter are on the case.

Aren't you glad that you have the internet? Without it, you'd have no way to find the truth!

I remember some comic -- I forget who, exactly -- who said that we living today were so lucky, because we would get to watch Michael Jackson's slow descent into senility. That comic was mistaken, on many levels.

Before his insanity hit, I was a passionate admirer of Michael Jackson. My mother was a dance instructor, but I never saw her dance when I was young. It was Michael who made me want to dance, and his moves that I practiced, long before my mother discovered this passion in me. To me, his music was secondary. I was in awe of the man's dancing.

Dahnai, I expect, is holding a vigil right now.

I'm holding a small one myself, by playing Thriller tonight while I write. It's the least I can do. While I have a problem with how he became unhinged later in life, in his early days as a superstar Michael changed the world for the better, and was undeniably one of the best dancers of the 20th century. For that alone, I owe him my thanks, and I'm sorry to see him go.

Round 2 of the Debbie/Hooli fight, on today's Crossoverlord.

Each of our heroes are going to fight our villains, so we're speeding through all the fights quickly. There'll be rematches in the future. :)

They say that we should be cruel to our characters. So what's the worst thing I can do with a claustrophobe?

I decided to trap him in total darkness under falling debris. With Maggie. :)

Fans of Indefensible Positions will absolutely, positively want to catch today's Crossoverlord.

Round two of this fight will be on Thursday. I'll remind you about it then, also.

Every year I find Minicon unpleasant, because I work there and I end up hating everyone and everything.

At the 2001 Worldcon I got food poisoning from a street vendor in Philly. I spent Saturday in the hospital, and barely remember any of Sunday after I returned to the con.

After those experiences, this year's 4th Street Fantasy has to rank as one of the most unpleasant I've ever attended.

It's not the convention's fault, though. Everyone else seemed to have a fine time. So my experience is all on me.

It wasn't all bad, though. I managed to get into a conversation with some pros and I don't think I came across as a complete ass. PNH did not recognize me but I'm pretty sure TNH did. Steven Brust did recognize me but I'm pretty sure I pissed him off (which is easy to do, so it doesn't bother me much.)

I did make a friend who had the misfortune of sitting at my table during brunch (hi, bibliofile!) And it was good seeing Mrs. Redhead and the extended family again. So...fair weekend, all things considered. And despite all the discouragement (did they *really* have to openly mock people who outline?) I don't feel discouraged at all.

So...back to work. I think I was about to destroy Boise. :)

I am normally nervous around large crowds. But boy, I am really being an irrational asshole today.

Just a note -- I'm out of town, attending the Fourth Street Fantasy convention. I have my iPod, but making long posts with it is tedious.

I only mention this because the day I go out of town, someone asks me a question. :) Just like always...

If someone told you 10 days ago that Twitter would be instrumental in organizing a revolution, how hard would you have laughed?

My lungs would have burst from the strain. Twitter was a defunct mish-mash of livejournal and AIM as far as I was concerned before this all started.

I'm really going to have to reexamine my total contempt for Twitter.

If twitter were around in the 1930s we could have twittered Hitler out of power, Stalin out of the USSR and Castro out out Cuba. MOAR TWITTER = WORLD PEACE

140 Characters is a novel when you're being shot at.

Those are all quotes from the latest FARK thread on the events in Iran. Apparently, with normal channels of communication shut down, the iranian people are using the expanded options available to them, including every niche communication medium possible. Twitter is ground zero. So much so that the Iranian government has been reported to be scanning Twitter to find and threaten dissidents. That's why many conversations are popping up in other dark, seedy corners of the web that governments never found a way to control, such as FARK and 4chan.

Then again, there's a rumor that 4channers may be spoofing their posts, to mislead the Iranian government, just for the lolz. Ah, 4chan, if you didn't exist we would have to create you. Probably from genetically damaged pond scum, but we would have no choice but to do it.

Up until now I've had complete contempt for Twitter -- and I say that knowing that several of the people on my friends list have become exclusively twitter-only posters on LJ. (Seriously, I just skim over your out-of-context one-liners. I'd drop some of you, but I want to keep in touch, and following crusty 140 character spoor is better than nothing.) But now I see the advantage in quick, pseudononymous communication. Even with all their flaws, these niche communication mediums are important. All mediums are. You just don't see the importance of free communication until someone tries to take it away -- and you realize that you have a niche to fall back on.

I won't be joining in. A twitter feed from me would push the boundaries of disturbing and boring at the same time. :) But I am reexamining my opinion of it.

Tip #1:

Do not try to cut the acidity of pasta sauce by adding a heaping teaspoonful of baking soda. If you do try this, do not mix it together by screwing the cap onto the bottle and shaking it up. What you have just created is carbonated pasta sauce, or in other words a gigantic mess.

Tip #2:

Do not cook the scavenged remainder of your carbonated pasta sauce. The ingredients for soap is salt + saponates + heat + a basic pH. Be assured that most pasta sauce has been seasoned with salt and herbs containing saponates. What you have just created is carbonated tomato soap.

Tip #3:

Be sure to have a backup bottle of pasta sauce handy, in case the urge to experiment takes you.

Platinum Donkeys is still moving along. I'd give you a best line for today, but it'd be too much of a spoiler. :) Maybe next time.

It's frustrating, too. I have almost no idea where the story is going, and few plans for what's happening next. I think the result will be readable, but I'm worried that the story will turn out too polemical, with too much lecturing (and from a viewpoint that I don't support!) and not enough entertainment. I won't be able to tell until the end of the ride.

I have come to understand, however, that this story is being told from the point of view of the villains. My 'protagonists' are not nice people. Maggie might be the most benevolent of the bunch, but she's certainly not the *sanest*. This is going to be a problem later -- in another chapter or two, Maggie is going to be in possession of a big, shiny red button that will destroy the world, and I have to think of a reason for her not to press it right away.

I mean, she's going to press it *eventually*. But I don't want her to do it right away. :)

I like these 'Line of the Day' posts. If nothing else, it assures everybody that I am, indeed, writing. :) I'm writing every day, although I won't bring good lines to you every day. Have one now, though...

***

Maggie pouted. "I'm not like my mother."

"Oh, no," said Radicker. "Your mother only ever killed one man."

Have you heard that Archie, of Archie Comics, is getting married? MGK has, and here's his take on the subject.

Make sure you read the comments. Here's a special example:

Perry Holley wrote:
A few random observations: Archie is clearly a player of epic proportions. He routinely nails both Batty and Veronica, as well as the occasional other girl. Both Betty and Veronica both know this. And yet, they still swoon and scheme over him. Apparently, having sex with Archie makes you his crack-slave.

Also, you know he's managed to talk them into a threesome at least once.

Betty does the kinky stuff for Archie because she is so desperate to please him. Veronica does the kinky stuff because she's a Lodge, and that's just how they swing.

On some levels, Betty would seem to be the more `fun' girl to be with. However, she is dangerously obsessive and needy. Archie is right to marry Veronica; he just needs to make sure there's no pre-nup agreement, and then run off with Cheryl Blossom (who's also wealthy, and will do the kinky stuff simply because she's a redhead).

I never paid much attention to Archie Comics before. I amazes me how much they mirror the complications of real life. :)

Okay, best line of the day, although it's going to make zero sense out of context:

Turning, Maggie watched the door not open.

No, I haven't been consumed by Dwarf Fortress. As an obsession it's a brief one; I'm already getting sick of the game. The cliff-steep learning curve makes for a few days of frantic study, but after you've mastered those basics it's a matter of finding challenging things to do in the sandbox. Which isn't as interesting.

While this has been going on, I've been studying myself to understand the gears behind the obsession psychology. I'll post more about this if I come up with a theory that I really believe. :) For now, I think I'm seeing a link between obsession and concentration, and I think I can use it to turn my concentration on and off like a light switch. Or maybe my fragile sanity has finally leaked out of my ear. (shrug)

Speaking of which (both concentration and insanity), I have been writing. Even while playing DF, I still got chores (mowing the lawn, dishes, laundry) done, and I still put down 1,500 words on the story last week -- a poor but not terrible week for me. I need to do at least twice that, however. I think the story from this point out is going to be somewhat difficult, because now that I have laid down the world I have dozens of questions and inconsistencies to resolve. This is the price of not outlining. I think I'm going to buckle under and outline the rest of the story as a framework for accellerated writing, but it may be too late to maintain an internally consistent world.

In any case, there's nothing on my plate for the next month but writing and a few pages for Crossoverlord. Time to shift into high gear.

Oh, boy, have I made a mistake. I finished my crit group critiques, and my next Crossoverlord page isn't due for a while. After laying down a few thousand words last week, my story stalled when I realized that a minor character needed to be major, but he had no backstory and very little personality. (I'm still thinking of starting an outline, just to avoid sudden traps like this. It would be an admission of failure, but I'm beginning to realize how much faster I write when I have a plan and schedule to follow. The question is, which way produces *better* writing from me?)

Meanwhile I'm disillusioned with the games I have. So I thought I'd try something new. And that's where I have made a mistake. I decided to see for myself this 'Dwarf Fortress' thing everyone is talking about.

For someone with an obsessive personality like mine, this game is like heroin. I'm not going to go into detail about why it is what it is; I've already figured out the psychological hook. DF is a sandbox in which stories unfold. That's the root problem. It allows unfettered creativity within very generous limits, and while you're creating the world, interesting, emergent behavior happens around you.

This has similarities to storytelling, at least if you're a writer who follows the advice to 'Make interesting characters and an interesting setting and see what they do to each other.' But it's much, much easier than writing, giving a cleaner and quicker high. (But not a long lasting one. If you look at the DF forums, you'll discover the players of this game are not fans of dwarves. Quite the opposite: They HATE dwarves, almost as much as they hate elves and cats.)

So I've just been blindsided by one hell of an obsession. I need to be rid of it and get back to work. The question is whether I should uninstall this infernal game, or practice my self control and allow myself to play it when I have free time...