Sprinting Muse

1800 more

2012-01-23T08:39:00.000-08:00

More words more words. Not in love with the story yet but the exercise is its own justification and I expect things to pick up as in there should be some violence soon and what problem is not solved by the introduction of violence?

Lotus bends over and picks up a wood scrap. She grins in a way that speaks of inevitability. “Yup. Those are the teeth of a larvae.” She tosses it to Yew, who catches it, scans it quickly and nods his assent.

Jalod sighs. “Well that is reassuring to hear. I had begun to doubt myself, in spite of all the attacks nearby. It still seems so unreal... that thing. I had a hard time believing what I had seen.” He looks back and forth quickly between the two Agents. “You both must know what that is like, I’m sorry to burden you with my thoughts.”

Click here to read the whole thing.

Still not still

2012-01-15T23:00:00.000-08:00

Alright. Six days of writing. One day of not writing. That means 1800 more words. How many will be usable? Maybe 500. Hope for 500.

Jalod continued. “It was the smell. It was like nothing I’d ever encountered before and yet it was a smell my body knew was wrong - like the smell of a dead animal, the smell of rotting meat. When I looked up whatever had been there was gone. I walked over to see if the other chickens were still there and they were, all pressed into the far side of the coop. So I went back inside, retrieved some of the other Servants and we cleaned up the mess and repaired the damage.”

Not sure where I'm going but I'm not worried either. This is a crank it out and see what happens project. Next one we plan more - k? K.

Read the rest here.

Small steps

2012-01-08T22:47:00.000-08:00

Story of the Agents of Change. Their mission: to keep the world free of larvae. Their doctrine: change is the only constant. First section:

“There is a figure standing on the path up ahead, wearing a grey cloak. Do you see it?” Yew points down the path.

Lotus’ gaze does not follow the finger. “It needs to be an open question. I guess I wasn’t clear about that so maybe that’s my fault but it seems kind of obvious. You need to provide some room in the question so that I can fill that room and that room creates more room for you to then fill with a response to what I said. Because what I’m doing right now is making my own space and when people do that then no one else really wants or needs to join in.” She looks down the path and spots the figure. “It’s called dialogue, you know?”

“I suspect that’s our contact.” Yew quickens his pace slightly and puts a slight smile on his face.

Lotus falls behind and mutters. “I suspect that’s our contact.” She bobbles her head back and forth mockingly. “I suspect that’s because they sent a letter requesting assistance and said that a town representative will wait for us in a gray cloak two miles outside of town. I suspect that’s not suspicion at all. I suspect that when someone tells you something and then that something turns out to accurately reflect the facts then that’s knowledge, not suspicion.”

Read the rest here.

Ergo Ego

2011-12-18T17:43:00.000-08:00

The story of Oedipus Rex is a story of ego. Maybe the story of any king is the story of ego. Certainly this retelling is overflowing with ego from pretty much every character that crosses the page. I can't think of a single act of humility in the entire book.

Hubris, right? That's the word I remember from reading ancient literature. Who are humans to challenge the gods? Or maybe more accurately, watch as the humans challenge the gods and get smushed. As all single moral lessons do, it gets old. You've heard it once, you've heard it a million times - no matter how true or relevant it is.

So it is with this book. I've heard it before. I know it's a rewrite of a classic and so obviously we know the main character is going to sleep with his mother. I know he's going to kill his father - that's a given. It's just that the theme is... well... a bit tired. I'm never drawn in as a reader to care much for any of the characters. They are all jerks who kind of get what they deserve - so who cares?

Maybe it's the length of the thing. Oedipus was an egoistic jerk and Jocasta was kind of a twit but because it was a play the whole thing was sad. Ed is a jerk and (his mother) Dianne is a twit but it's a full length novel and... yawn.

Yes the world is full of jerks. Yes ego will lead you to ruin. Done and done. Avoid the jerks, tune down your ego and read the original.

Breakfast Knives

2011-12-01T15:47:00.000-08:00

The Fertile Ground festival is coming up again next year and once again I've written a short play that will be a part of it. So far we've gone through two re-writes and we've still got about 6 weeks to go. Here's a brief taste:

Jillian: Are we back to my taste in movies?
Jonas: You and I and everyone else we know knows that you have bad taste in movies.
Jillian: What if I think my bad taste is good taste?
Jonas: You’re entitled to that, I suppose but it doesn’t change the fact that you have bad taste.
Jillian: Do you have any real evidence for these accusations?
Jonas: Alright, in that horrible movie you force fed me...
Jillian: “The Minus 1”?
Jonas: Yeah, whatever the hell it was called. There was a fifteen minute scene... completely silent, I might add of people doing math equations on a chalkboard.
Jillian: Does that remind you of any dreams you’ve had lately?
Jonas: That’s different. Someone deliberately directs a movie. Nobody is in control of a dream.
Jillian: Right, so after the montage?
Jonas: Yeah, so then after the montage you finally pulled something out of the ground.

If you're feeling particularly helpful, you can read the whole thing here and give me some feedback.

Rind the Hind

2011-11-20T09:05:00.000-08:00

Hindsight is when you look at too many asses and start thinking like one. Rindsight is when you look at too many compost buckets and become one.

Never the less, I find myself hinding and rinding as I read Cerebus. Why not just enjoy the story? Well, here's where I unrind the hind. You see, it's so hard to resist because well there's more to it than just story. There's another layer...

...and here's where you should stop me. "I say, chap. Get on with the story." But you won't because instead of reading the comic, you're reading this and so you've sacrificed your own sight for someone else's and that's when you become none so I'll get back to standing on my bucket before you kick it out from under me, eh?

...underneath. It starts as imitation. It moves quickly to satire or maybe starts there too but doesn't really blossom for a while. Yeah, so imitation and satire which really are the same thing or at least satire is already imitation by definition so it starts as mild satire and moves to medium satire while never getting quite so spicy as to lose the story line in the spice of humor.

The whole movement of mild to medium parallels the inverse growth of the aardvark's snout. It starts long and becomes mediumish, a coincidence I can't pass off as mere. It must mean, not just mere but that's how I got into this whole rind of a mess to begin with, thinking hinds were more than humor and rinds more than mere.

Yes. You can see process here and that's the point. You'll see process in these books too, and that becomes the point - if I recall correctly but it's been a while since I've read them so I look forward to enjoying the process again and making a hind of myself.

Jimmy's Epitaph

2011-11-13T21:15:00.000-08:00

The plan was to write a 12 episode comic. We managed 2 and 3/4 issues - and damn good ones at that. Read and enjoy.

Issue #1 - Facelift - CBZ, HTML
Issue #2 - Fires of the Poor - CBZ, HTML
Issue #3 - My Shaving Angel - CBZ, HTML, Script
Issue #4 - Dammed Icarus - Script

Allow me to Elucidate

2011-08-20T00:30:00.000-07:00

People are boring. Know how I know? I know people. I see them. I hear them. Heck, I even smell them sometimes. Let's just say I've collected data, right? Like tonight. I went to a movie. It was fun. Funny, even. Decently written. So I laughed. Nobody else did - at least not out loud.

Maybe they laughed all quiet and politely. If a person laughs in a theater and nobody hears it, are they still boring? Yes. Laugh like you mean it. Shout at the screen, too! Cry at the tender moments - it's okay - you'll feel better afterwards. Savor the vicarious emotions you draw from the screen because they're probably the only ones you'll experience anyway, you boring, boring, boring human being.

What movie? Not important. A good but not great one.

All Risen

2011-08-10T00:10:00.000-07:00

"You stand accused of idea theft. How do you plea?" Powdered wig and all come staring my way.

"I'd like to know which ideas I've stolen and from whom." This is about as serious as I can be in the face of all this - whatever it is.

"Very well. The court will read the specific accusations." Throats are cleared. Eyeglasses are adjusted. "In the case of Morpheus versus Jones, Mr. Jones, the defendant stands accused by Morpheus, the plaintiff of stealing ideas from dreams, putting them into writing and passing them off as his own. While there have been thousands of ideas, incidents and characters stolen, Morpheus has chosen three specific incidents with which to make his case." Eyes are peering over glasses now.

"Do go on." I do this because I have to.

"Incident one, the shotgun stairs, wherein the defendant dreamed of being shotgunned on his stairway and then duplicated the incident almost verbatim in a story. Incident two, the rainbow waiter, wherein the defendant dreamed of a man made entirely of rainbows and then used the character and some of the words spoken by that character in the dream in a story. Incident three, this courtroom, the proceedings, the judge character, and so on - all of which the defendant is desperately trying to remember as they unfold and which he will later transcribe verbatim into a blog entry." A knowing nod, a pause, then more. "Is that all clear, Mr. Jones?"

"Perfectly." Contemplates the ceiling in search of the right words. "Am I to understand that my dreams are not my intellectual property, then?"

"Yes. That is to say that is part of the prosecutor's case - to establish that your dreams are not yours but rather that Morpheus is the author of them and you are merely a viewer and thus by using them in your writing you are in fact plagiarizing." The tiniest of smirks.

"While I agree that I have or will in fact used all those ideas you listed in my writings I dispute the fact that they are Morpheus's property." Returning the tiniest of smirks slightly larger.

"This promises to be an interesting trial then, Mr. Jones." Waits. "Not guilty, then?"

"Yes, your honor." Also waits.

What Would Carvin Write?

2011-08-07T22:41:00.000-07:00

Carvin was a sidewalk marker. He might still be a sidewalk marker, though it's not important. What matters is that time in Carvin's career when he was not only a marker but a poet - a man who not only indicated gas lines, electric lines and sewer mains but told the story of the universe in fifty orange words or less.

Public words mean public works.

The brevity of a poem is inversely proportional to its power - assuming it is well written. Five words can say nothing at all, suggest the meaning of existence or spell out the meaning of denial... maybe even all three of those things, at once. Carvin got his viewers to travel that road, or stroll that sidewalk his way, with his words but living in their thoughts. He wasn't just a good poet - destined to be unread and unremembered but a great poet - destined to be unread but familiar to those with a college education.

Underlie the lines that are you.

Badly written poetry is the stuff of every high school kid's journal and as such suffers the same fate as all poetry - to remain unread. The remarkable thing about Carvin was not just the quality of what he wrote but the fact that he got people to read it - by spray painting it on the spaces outside their homes, restaurants and pet stores. Not everyone - okay almost no one - notices what sidewalk markers write but once someone notices that it's not just locations, distances and utility names then everyone reads it.

Locate 10 feet from sidewalk.

Twenty Useless Questions

2011-08-03T23:41:00.000-07:00

"What shall we do with you?"

Lotus shifted slightly in her chair, shrugged and continued picking at her teeth. Her interlocutor stared hard, trying to pry words from her chapped lips but to no avail.

"Perhaps I should ask your captain, then?"

Unperturbed by the mention of her dead leader, or the notion that this man might actually have the power to temporarily raise him from Hades to squeeze answers from his undead throat, Lotus offered the even more ambiguous body language of a fake cough.

"Very well. I can see that you will not answer my questions, so I turn the game over to you, sailor. Ask what you will of me. I have nothing to hide."

Lotus went back to picking her teeth but this time seemed more earnest about it, as if there was truly something (perhaps a seed or the skin of an apple) stuck uncomfortably somewhere in her mouth. Either this action precluded her asking any questions or more likely, judging by the level of interest shown by her eyes, she didn't have any.

"This is the way it is then. I speak while you pretend to ignore me. Then I will speak of my interest in the Knot, how I know that you share this interest with me and how we can help each other."

Tooth picking continued, followed by examining of fingernails for the possible stuck culprit. Either nothing was found or nothing was there because things kept going in the same direction.

Tall Grass

2011-08-02T15:44:00.000-07:00

To create, or not to create: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The bizzare and bawdy of outrageous novelty,
Or to take ladders onto a tower of history,
And by climbing, copy them? To make: to do;
No assist; and by a pen to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural imitation
That art is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To paraphrase, to borrow;
To borrow: perchance to quote: ay, there's the rub;
For in that theft of art what cracks may show
When we have shuffled off this novel spark,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so difficult project;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of art,
The director's wrong, the actor's contumely,
The pangs of despised audience, the profit's delay,
The insolence of critics and the spurns
That patient merit of the masses takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare xerox? who would fardels bear,
To script and scrawl under a weary task,
But that the dread of something after publishing,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No writer returns, puzzles the pen
And makes us rather bear those characters we have
Than fly to others that we must make anew?
Thus creativity does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of daring
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of popularity,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of newness. - Soft you now!
The bewildered Shepherd! Muse, in thy orisons
Be all my conundrums remember'd.

Interview with a Dogpire

2011-08-01T00:29:00.000-07:00

"Duncan, why don't you tell us a little about the book?"
"Because in the telling meaning is lost."
"Oh-kay. Well give it your best shot."
"It's not a question of 'bests', it's a matter of conservation of integrity."
"I see. Then can you tell us your favorite part of the book, maybe?"
"There is no making pieces of a unified whole."
"Uhm. How about a little about yourself, then?"
"There are words, certainly, that can be used in such an endeavor but their efficacy is questionable."
"How about 'I'm a cute little dog who stands on his hind legs and has human hands'?"
"Those are the kinds of words to which I was referring, yes."
"I'd like to hear you say some words... like those then, Duncan."
"That wouldn't make them any more or any less accurate."
"Alright, then. Any final thoughts for our potential readers?"
"Many, yes."
"And those are?"
"Untranslatable into words."
"Of course. Well thanks for the interview."

Name... That... Genre!

2011-07-31T00:59:00.000-07:00

What do you get when your book is a... brat? A page full of eggs and a dirty welcome mat... doot doot doot doot doot doot DOOT. What if, yes? What if, yes. Yes. That's it! What if... which leads me to yes and a page full of broken eggs.

Maybe it's because I'm jumping in the middle of something or maybe it's because I'm too short for this sort of thing. You know - short in the head - like lost a few inches as I grew older everything's shrinking and I keep thinking maybe I'm jumping in the middle of something here but boy it should still make sense.

But it doesn't so that's clear enough. I mean it makes perfect sense - it's just like that why question that keeps coming up. Yes, yes, you designed the most astounding zero gravity jello mold ever and that's awesome but why would you do that but instead of something at least strange it's more like a one gravity jello mold and there are millions of them that no one even uses anymore.

Are you getting all this? Yeah. Magical realism. A page full of eggs. Keep waiting for it to make sense. You might be up a while or you might realize it already makes too much sense. It is sense, in a sense and innocence just for fun.

At Least 2000 years old

2011-07-04T15:33:00.000-07:00

"If the number of all acorns on all oak-trees,
If all the fauna of the Alps, if all the bees
On Hybla are beyond computation,
So are hair-styles -- every day there's a new creation.
Take the "careless look," which suits a lot of girls:
To judge by their wild curls
You'd think they'd been slept on all night, but they've just
This moment been carefully mussed!"

I swore I had a moment of insight when I discovered the "messy neat" look twenty years ago. And if insights can be repeated independently, then it may remain so but if insights must be unique then alas, I am but a repeater - a stealer. For Ovid named it two millennia ago.

He names much more, boldly calling out the games that people play - encouraging them even. He doles out advice I thought again was mine alone, standing as he does on his rhyming poet's throne. Yet these tidbits, these offers he gives - I'm not so sure he speaks as he lives. One suspects from the tone and the wit - that he jests about the common endeavor of dating, calling bullshit.

Where do Ideas Come From?

2011-06-19T17:42:00.000-07:00

Ever wonder where ideas come from? More specifically, ever wonder where the idea for the daily show came from? Wonder no longer, or at least marvel at this prophetic quote from Neil Postman's 1985 book, in which he is talking about solutions to the problem of television as medium:

"The nonsensical answer is to create television programs whose intent would be, not to get people to stop watching television but to demonstrate how television ought to be viewed, to show how television recreates and degrades our conception of news, political debate, religious thought, etc. I imagine such demonstrations would of necessity take the form of parodies, along the lines of "Saturday Night Live" and "Monty Python," the idea being to induce a nationwide horse laugh over television's control of public discourse. But, naturally, television would have the last laugh. In order to command an audience large enough to make a difference, one would have to make the programs vastly amusing, in the television style. Thus, the act of criticism itself would, in the end, be co-opted by television. The parodists would become celebrities, would star in movies, and would end up making television commercials."

Or they end up in musicals and running for president.

Aphorisms

2011-06-10T22:05:00.000-07:00

"Only the young die good."

"The most fundamental human folly is to deny the existence of a behavior while simultaneously engaging in that same behavior."

And What's Wrong with That?

2011-05-28T23:07:00.000-07:00

Before writing your story, answer the following five questions:

In this story, Conan's current role is:
A) a mercenary.
B) a pirate.
C) a thief.
D) a king.

In this story, Conan will encounter a scantily clad, stunningly gorgeous woman who:
A) is a princess.
B) was a princess and is now a slave.
C) is a fierce warrior queen.

This woman will have lips (from which Conan will "drink" a kiss) the color of:
A) crimson.
B) fire.
C) rubies.
D) blood.

In this story, Conan will fight a beast that is:
A) the last of it's race.
B) apelike.
C) snakelike.
D) batlike.

In this story, Conan will kill:
A) a wizard.
B) a king.
C) a priest.
D) all of the above.

... and you're ready to write!

Currents

2011-04-26T10:14:00.000-07:00

You write and research. You edit and slave. Then come to find that someone has written on the same idea as you. Better than you, maybe. Should you burn your manuscripts, stow away your creativity and go back to punching the digital time clock? If you think it will help, sure. Should you instead smile, admire and appreciate? Again, if you think it will help.

Perhaps instead you should build an ark and wait for rain. I can hear the whispers coming from inbetween your walls already. Listen carefully... very carefully and you can hear them too. They're giving you measurements, plans, instructions on escape. Do not concern yourself with the others. They are all deserving of this new kind of slaughter.

Last Stand

2011-04-11T23:55:00.000-07:00

Meaning what? Meaning who? Meaning meaning, that's what and who - you. Yeah, talking too, because every word listened is a word spoken. That's up to and including the water marks that don't make any sense. Does meaning have to make sense? Does meaning have to make? Does meaning have to? Does meaning have? Does meaning?

I'm not talking any further than that.

Icon

2011-04-06T23:41:00.000-07:00

Want a character you can identify with? How about not. How about someone so idiosyncratic, so unique that there is at least one characteristic that you completely disagree with. Yeah. There's your icon. Can you identify with that? No? Too bad, because I suspect the world is full of people you can't identify with then.

This is a comic book though. You want simplicity - heroes in a half shell and villains in a full shell, right? Not want - require - expect - demand. This is white and black hat territory. That shades of gray crap is for art films.

Happily, no. Comics are becoming grayer these days. It's tough to tell who (if anyone) is wearing the white hats out there but sometimes it seems as though they might all be wearing black hats... or want to be wearing black hats... and really if you can't tell who's got the white hats on then don't they really all have black hats.

Where is the street wise Hercules to fight the rising odds?

Will our story shine like a light... or end in the dark?

Flower Born

2011-03-30T23:43:00.000-07:00

My name is Lotus. I'm named after a flower. The flower holds a certain mystical significance in some cultures. Call me a mystical flower and I'll scoop your eye out with my thumb. Everyone and everything has a name. It's nothing special. It just makes things easier, that's all.

I'm a sailor by trade and a first mate by rank. Sailing is more than work, it's life. I suppose most people don't think of their work that way but then again most people are dumber than lead weight. It's a sickness, maybe, caring too much about what you do. Nobody else cares. They don't care about work and they don't care about much at all except surviving. I'd say everyone else is sick and I'm well but that don't make much sense, now does it?

By trade, I say, because real sailors are on boats and I'm not. I'm stuck on land with the worst of them, getting by hour by hour and day by day in rotting houses and more rotten lives. Who am I to judge? Lest not, right? Judge away, friends, judge away. My life would be better if someone applied some verdicts and certainty to it so give it your best, I say. If I tell you a story or two it will make passing judgment that much easier.

Teenage Love

2011-03-25T12:14:00.000-07:00

If love is a second hand emotion then reading about it must make it third hand and if having a third hand doesn't solve all your problems then reading about me reading about love must make it fourth hand... which makes you a Thri-kreen. Congrats. You can now achieve the ultimate dork goal of being able to attack with four swords at once. Bring this petty dance of love down, little Shiva, bring it all down in flames.

Ah-hem. Where was I? Oh yes. Love. Love of superheroes. Superheroes as a springboard for actual story. Because everyone loves spandex and biceps but not everyone loves character development and plot lines.

But, give them the crime fighting do-gooder and you can probably get away with some actual writing... which is exactly what Mccloud does. He manages to write a story that third hand reminds us of our own troubled teen romances. Hilariously enough, the superhero is characteristically honest, patient, generous and blunt in his approach to love. It exposes the humanity of all those around him and somehow even makes him seem believable - in a paragon of virtue kind of way.

There are explosions, comic relief and bad guys but honestly, it's the love story that makes the book good.

Your Metaphor is Metastasizing

2011-03-21T23:20:00.000-07:00

Imaginary friends can become imaginary enemies. Real friends can too. All friends are subject to change, fictional or factual. Imagine, friends, a land as fertile as it is boring. This is a ripe field where fictional sowing leads to real harvests.

Plants of the imagination choke out whatever weeds banal reality has to offer. Are then these reaped seeds hyper-real? Stranger still, how many generations until their offspring become boring? Two, perhaps three. Then hyper-real is the new normal. Tatoos are de riguer and disenchantment is charming.

So keep your imaginary friends close but your imaginary friends become enemies closer.

Oh You Forces of Nature

2011-01-30T00:10:00.000-08:00

Always crushing us puny humans beneath your mighty boots, forcing us to live shadowed lives inside the treads of your aforementioned foot gear. Yet we seem to find meaning in this dark existence, to such an extent, in fact, that one wonders if it isn't all for the better really. Divine ways of mystery indeed what with all the suffering and presence of evil somehow making mortality worth living because a mediocre life free of godly intervention would be, well - mediocre.

Which brings us to a second postulation of possibility: that we are all forces of nature or forced by nature or naturally forceful anyway and boy that makes us busy stomping one another with boots that we believe divine by right of kingship or flagship or battleship games we played long ago in the back of some forgotten minivan. Yeah. We still live in that ship, the possible one, the one that sails around in circles and makes us wonder if we are gods or men or godmen or mengods or mongeds demons with a loose g.

That about sums it up, unless you were looking for something else, in which case - it doesn't.

Hands

2010-12-20T23:35:00.000-08:00

Yikes. The world has more grit than I care to imagine. Not fantastic acting. Not fantastic directing but grit, serious quantities of it. That's what makes the film worth watching. There is enough gloss in the film world, enough tinsel and plenty of garbage.

What else does this movie have to offer? Not much. That's pretty much the whole deal. Three examples: One is the ass whooping delivered upon a 17 year old girl by a group of four forty something women, two is the sawing off of human hands with a chainsaw and three is the skinning of a squirrel.

There you go.

Lists upon lists

2010-12-05T22:35:00.000-08:00

Story one:

Prince lives in a palace, sequestered from reality. One day he pops out and sees the misery of the world. This causes him to abandon his palace and seek truth. He tries everything but finally discovers the truth by taking the middle path, which involves sitting under a tree for a while and then teaching people for several decades before dying.

Story two:

The world is full of suffering. The cause of suffering is attachment. There is a state beyond suffering. There is a way to that state.

Story three:

Correct action, correct speech, correct livelihood, correct view, correct mindfulness, correct meditation, correct intention and correct effort.

Story four:

Every time someone presents a philosophy that sweeps away all the glitter, dust bunnies and bullshit that humans surround their lives with, it is promptly covered by glitter, dust bunnies and bullshit.
Story five:
What's life without glitter?

Insulin Shots

2010-12-04T23:24:00.000-08:00

Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? Photoshop knows.

Architecture

2010-10-22T23:36:00.000-07:00

I like that feeling of walking into an old home and wondering "what were they thinking when they put a door there?" or "I have to walk through one bedroom to get to another?" because well there is something satisfying about knowing that people build houses without really thinking about what living in them is going to be like. This gets messier as the architecture gets bigger, of course. Cities are notoriously unplanned. Take Seattle's use of the street designations "east, west, north and south" which don't seem to have anything to do with the actualities of East, West, North and South. Or have Portland's use of a zero in front of some addresses on the west side of the river creating situations in which there is both a 17 southwest Whitaker and a 017 southwest Whitaker... good luck with that one, mapquest.

Well, there's a book for these problems, as there always is. The kind authors of Nudge are suggesting a new profession, "choice architect". That's right. Folks who think about the way choices are offered to people. Much of the bulk of their work has to do with setting a reasonable default choice in front of people. For instance, when building a home, most people want a separate entrance to each bedroom so builders go ahead and build it that way unless you say otherwise. Most people want to save money for retirement but are too lazy to do so on their own, so if as an employer you (by default) put 5% of their money in an IRA and match that amount with company funds, you'll find that very few people opt-out although very few would opt-in if they had to say, fill out a piece of paper even though it meant the difference between living under a bridge or a roof at age 72.

According to the book, when feedback is delayed or difficult to interpret, people are ill equipped to make good choices and/or learn from their bad choices. That is, when you get lost for the 3rd time trying to find 023 Hamilton street, you realize that you should probably try and figure out what's going on. But, if you get bankrupted by a variable rate house mortgage seven years after you signed up for it and it's your first and only house loan (because now you're penniless) then it's fairly hard to glean much from the situation except seven years ago it would have been nice to have your mortgage fully explained to you in plain English. Thus choices that are infrequent and/or complicated (marriage, mortgages, college loans) should be looked at very carefully by choice architects. They recommend, in the case of mortgages, that the default be the standard 30 year fixed rate loan because that's what works for most people and if folks want something else they can opt-out of the standard and into whatever they want.

Here's the rub. No choice can be presented in a neutral way. If you choose a 30 year loan as the default, then that biases folks towards that type of loan. Suppose mortgage companies were in charge of picking what the default choice was and they had less than altruistic motives. Well, unsurprisingly they might choose something that leaves you broke and them wealthy. So they pepper the book with an idea they call "paternalistic libertarianism" which boils down to choice architecture that funnels people towards what is generally most advantageous to themselves while still allowing them to make whatever choice they want, should they desire to buck the trend.

Neat book. You should read it. Everyone else is doing it. Oh yeah. Turns out one of the best marketing tools is to mention how many other people use your product. Duh.

Hibernation

2010-10-12T23:38:00.000-07:00

Shh. Portlandia is asleep now. Come back again in the Spring and she'll be ready to play again.

Scorpion Girl

2010-09-27T23:20:00.000-07:00

Scorpion girl, what are you doing over there?
Why, I'm helping people choose.
How are you doing that?
Well, as you can clearly see, I've got one claw on the half flush button and one claw on the full flush button.
So you tell them which one to use?
No. I just remind them that they have options.
Oh. What about you're stinger, what's that for?
That's for people who press both buttons at once.
Is it a poisonous stinger?
Yes. Double pushers will suffer a slow agonizing death.

The Present Tense

2010-09-25T21:06:00.000-07:00

Our time has come, gone and has been replaced with an exact replica. Let's see if anyone notices.

What's That Yarn You're Spinning?

2010-09-08T12:22:00.000-07:00

Comedy? Yes, I think so. It's funny because there's only one fight scene, which is really more of a "bear hug test" than anything else and because the movie consists almost entirely of dialog. There's conjecture, pontificating, questioning, pining, worry, invective, accusation, sarcasm, tenderness and sorrow - all delivered though the spoken word.

Is that inappropriate for the medium? Perhaps. In many ways watching the movie felt like reading a book. I found myself visualizing what the characters were talking about and trying to figure out what was going on. Maybe not, though, it's common practice in a mystery movie to have the audience playing mental gymnastics while watching what is passing by on the screen.

Never mind that the acting isn't that great and never mind that the plot twist at the end is somewhat silly. It works. It works because I've never seen another film that is about a single conversation. I'm sure there are other films that revolve entirely around one hour and a half long philosophical meandering among friends... I've just never seen them.

If you have, you can skip this one - but if not... giggle with me, eh?

Throw Yourself on the Train

2010-08-25T09:44:00.000-07:00

No doubt I'm late to the train and there are dozens of good books out there about peak oil, oil politics, oil economics and similar nastiness surrounding our current spice melange. But here I am hopping aboard and as one might expect, it's a bumpy (constantly threatening to derail) ride full of villainous banditos attempting to hold us up.

Why such a ride? Convenience. Profit. Power. Momentum. Trains are hard to stop once they get going. In fact, it's more like a slide than a halt, a painful grind during which everyone holds their ears and wonders just how late all this nonsense is going to make them.

The point? Countries who are oil rich are cursed. Huh? But what about all the money they get for oil? Doesn't help. Corruption and monopoly thrive in a monoculture, weather it be of corn or oil. The money ends up in the hands of a few. The poor, meanwhile are given no jobs because the oil industry is not very job intensive and what jobs it does create are largely skilled jobs (engineers) which are often lacking among the locals.

While Maass is not a fantastic writer, he's good enough. The images of Nigerian fisherman sneering at oil filled rivers devoid of fish is enough. The descriptions of despotic parades of kleptocrats who rule oil "rich" countries and spend their summers in Malibu is enough. The interviews with oil executives who defend themselves with lines like "everyone else is doing it" is enough. The oil business is dirty stuff - and why wouldn't it be? Like the drug business, the demand is there and the addicts aren't about to quit. It's hard to imagine this train stopping, slowly grinding to a halt or even slowing down anytime soon. Until then, expect the banditos to get increasingly nasty.

What's a Human/Hybrid Vehicle Lover to Do?

2010-08-18T23:17:00.000-07:00

Twike or Humancar?
Well? What's it going to be?
As I see it, the Humancar can be fully powered by human effort alone, so that's a big plus. But the twike, well, it's got a way cooler name, right. Then again, the Humancar is powered by the drivers operating rowing machines while the twike is powered through recumbent bicycles.
So the Humancar, right?
But wait. The Twike has a top. The Humancar doesn't. Have these people been to Portland? I'm not buying some future vehicle just to drive it three months out of the year when it's sunny here. Come on, people. This is the future! Convertibles are cool and all but we need rain protection! (Turns out there's a cover available but it costs extra!)
Four wheels? Three wheels? Does it matter? Ask an engineer and get back to me, will you?
In the end, I will accept either of these vehicles if they are given to me.

Thank you and goodnight.

The (un)Named Fates

2010-08-17T09:55:00.000-07:00

As an author, there is always a certain joy to picking the names out for characters. Does it have significance? Did you know someone with that name who is a bit like the character? Is it a blase name for a blase character? Or a blase name for an exuberant character?

When you name a pair of brothers Booth and Lincoln... there's clearly something going on. When the Lincoln character has a job playing Abe Lincoln in a museum in which he gets "assassinated" by any paying tourist, there is clearly something going on. When the Booth character carries a gun wherever he goes, there is clearly something going on.

So what's going on? Witty banter, for sure - on the level of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead at least. What else? Clever pauses, scripted in for all to see. Instead of writing stage directions that say "long pause", Parks (the author) simply writes in the characters names. If it's a long pause between characters, she sometimes writes:

Booth
Lincoln
Booth
Lincoln

It gives the reader that beautiful opportunity, so often absent in screenplays, so often present in fiction, to imagine the body language of the characters. Uniquely, it is presented as an exchange of lines that aren't there, lines that become frowns, stinkeyes, grins and winks.

So it's clever, yes. Witty, too. Lucky for the reader, it also has a solid plot line that builds to exactly where it shouldn't but has to and isn't that just the way of fate sometimes.

Is there a fancy latin phrase for that?

2010-07-13T23:36:00.000-07:00

"Deus Ex Machina" (DEX). We all have at least heard that one, right? From what I have grasped over the years, DEX is when, during a story, the author introduces something out of left field that fixes everything. To me it's the author owning up to the fact that they didn't layout the story, got the characters in too big of a mess and decided they didn't really feel like re-writing everything... so well, the distant cousin from Manchuria appears and bails everyone out of jail. Bah. Cop-out.

Alright. So what do you call it when comic book authors gratuitously bring extra (meaning ones not named in the title) super heroes into the story. Like here goes Superman tooling around for 150 pages and he's in trouble and now Wonder Woman, Green Arrow and 16 other minor heroes from the DC universe appear. Yawn.

It reminds me of Hollywood sequels. Remember this hero? Yeah. So do we. Here they are again. They don't really have to add to the plot at all, since their mere appearance is enough to make all fanboys smile. Aren't we all cool that we remember that? Remember this movie? Yeah, well here it is again with the same plot but now it's set in Ireland instead of Spain. Yawn.

My complaint is really the same as it always is: I get upset when a piece of art was really close to being good. Bad art isn't worth complaining about and is, in fact, often worth giggling about.

Take that Tone with You

2010-06-25T07:29:00.000-07:00

Are sounding smart and being smart the same thing? Is it always easy to distinguish the two? Do you find yourself recalling your interactions with others, thinking they were smart at the time but then realizing maybe they weren't so smart? How smart are you? Do you sometimes use words just to make yourself seem more clever? Is that something you find yourself doing with people you admire, people you disdain, people you are indifferent to or all of the above?

What if the confusion of childhood was wrapped in the confusion of finding a writing voice? What if the confusion of childhood is the confusion of finding a writing voice? What if childhood is writing? What if writing grew up? Would it answer all your questions instead of raising more?

What if when reviewing a book, the reviewer got one book confused for another? What if mock reviewing is the highest form of flattery? Does that mean mock duck is the highest form of duck? When one mocks a duck, does one pretend to be a duck or is the mockery something higher than engaging in simple duckery? When is reviewing a book really consist in nothing but ducking one's own writing assignments? When will your ship finally come in?

How Deep is your Toilet Humor?

2010-05-28T22:19:00.000-07:00

There are depths, you know? Ones that remain unplumbed until a hero like Johnny Ryan arrives. And of course, as all heroes, he will be reviled by some and loved by others. There are those who will wet themselves with laughter. There are those who will label this book disgusting, juvenile, moronic and they will be right.

Yet all of us know, regardless of our political pretensions, deep in our forgotten kindergarten hearts, that there's nothing funnier than a disgusting, juvenile, moronic toilet joke. Are comics for children? No. Apparently they are for idiots. Are you some sort of idiot? If not, don't read this book.

Electro Knights

2010-05-14T21:37:00.000-07:00

All cultures have their myths, so it is with the robots. If Arthur were a machine and not a man, would he still be a noble, just and yet flawed king? Would a cybernetic Lancelot still fall in love with an artificial Guinevere? All your questions will be ~~answered~~ asked in the pages of this book... that is, you'll begin to wonder why mechanical men seem to be as tragically flawed as their organic counterparts. They bicker, they lust, they squabble, they die. Why does it matter? It matters at least as much as the sparkling vampires of Twilight.

There are twists that can not be done with flesh and blood characters. There are parallels, plots and parameters that become examinable when shifted from the human condition to the electronic condition. What is, what could be and what mistakes always need to be made in order to learn the same lessons.

Then there is the bizarreness that makes Lem worth reading. These are science fiction stories tinted with philosophy, spiced with psychedelia and injected with pathos.

Read it.

Cover your Judges

2010-05-08T20:34:00.000-07:00

When the clothes mask the man, when the other name is rose, when you step into the same river thrice and when cigars are always cigars then the time has arrived to trust whatever remains - Joe Sacco. So he names his book Footnotes in Gaza, which leads folks like me to assume it is indeed a footnote, possibly to Palestine - a kind of B side comic book.

Except it's not the idiot's drowning fury, it is instead an understatement of itself, a self depreciating wink contained within the brutal seriousness of a conflict that no one can keep straight. How many dead today? How many bulldozers? Who is supplying missiles to who? How young were the suicide bombers?

Ted admits it and so do I, the news is just another showing of our comedic information overload combined with tragic desensitizing to violence. Yet when Sacco does it the news matters. Why? Beauty may skin the deepest among us but digging into the humanity of the oppressed is this man's specialty. He tells stories within stories all framed in a silver hammer that taps the skull lightly with that horrible rhythm that makes us question our lives, our psyches and our philosophies.

Tragedy plus time rubs us all down to footnotes, down to faded elegies and down to dark humor in the face of fate. Smile, you are a captured camera.

Guernica Reference

2010-04-02T15:58:00.000-07:00

Wordless. That's what I'm looking for. New connections are full of analytical content. I know how I got there and why. Yes. That "stray" thought in my head about french bread is because I had that travel dream last night... it's not "stray" at all. It's easy to follow the string of words that lead from recent memory to current mental state.

Older memories are trickier. They are just emotional stabs. I don't mean that in a malevolent way, but rather in a neutral but violent way. They are just there. They've survived long enough to have all the connective tissue fall away. A frame stands alone, tilted crazily on the wall of an old cliched staircase. Where does the cliche go? Nowhere, exactly where cliches belong. It too, has been cut free of connective tissue, destined to hang alone - unhinged but constantly referenced in the futile effort to connect with others.

Which brings me to Eric Drooker's novel "Flood". I stumbled across it while scanning the graphic novel section at the library. Such are the risks of freedom unconstrained... or at least partially unconstrained... alright so really quite constrained but still I wouldn't have found the book had the library not put it up there so whatever level of constraint that counts for, there it is.

Old memories. Yes. The novel has a visual reference to the "Guernica" painting by Picasso. There it is, on the left, as the cover of a Rage Against the Machine single. So? So my parents had a print copy of Guernica hanging in the house. So? I'd developed an early an strong attachment that that particular piece of art. One that no doubt had many threads and lots of connective tissue but now is an isolated memory. A strong impression. So? So it was good to try and build some new threads with an old memory, an old piece of art, a new memory and a new piece of art.

Second Run Through

2010-01-15T23:37:00.000-08:00

First edit is done!

Time to go back and do it again. Many of the characters need refinement - their own verbiage and behaviors that distinguish them from one another.

As a parting gift, the end of a story within the story:

“Adam had never seen a town. It was terrifying and compelling. After eating several pieces of fruit and pacing back and forth, he decided to go into the town. At the bottom of the hill there was a small creek. Picking up speed, he easily bounded over the flowing water. As he landed, something caught his eye. There, at his feet - not 500 feet from the edge of human civilization, was the purple flower.”
“He bent over and as he moved to pluck the plant he heard the sweetest voice singing an unfamiliar tune. Looking over, he saw a beautiful woman piling up wood next to a small house. With a grin, he stood up and walked over her, leaving the flower forever.”

The Game is the Thing

2010-01-09T19:04:00.000-08:00

Chapter 9, in which you lose.

Five minutes later you're hurling his own pile of skulls at him. Each time, he catches them in his claws and crushes them. It looks cool and makes you wish you had a giant scorpion as a friend to play catch with when you little up but it's just as ineffective as everything else you've attacked him with.
There is a groan of defeat from across the room. You smile, knowing victory has moved from the possible to the probable. No doubt the checkpoint is when you enter the room so your opponent will have to battle the two crow men again, giving you a serious advantage. If only you could figure out how to put a dent in this damn boss.

Sounds like you're winning, doesn't it? Fine. Then maybe you win.

Chapter 8 - Beaten?

2009-12-26T11:12:00.000-08:00

The hero returns to his favorite haunt. He is beaten and bitter. The land is beaten and broken.

“If you are truly GL then why are you laying down like a sick man in a boat with children? Why do you look like you have not slept in days? Why is your face red with sadness? Why do you speak with a voice that is weakened and haggard?” Sid comes into view as she squats down on the edge of the roof.
“And why should I not be this way? How could I not be broken by the cruel world and beaten by the people who fritter unto death on its dirty surface? My friend, who was raised in the forest by wild men, who was schooled in the ways of society by a lonely and desperate girl, who helped me defeat the mighty Cedar in combat, who endured with grace what would have shattered another man, was killed senselessly today. He burned to death in that modern fluorescent lit tomb of an institution, the hospital. And so I ask you again, how could I not be haggard by this?”

Waxing doom.

Chapter 7 - Confirmation

2009-12-14T13:16:00.000-08:00

Humans require the most physical assurances of death. Without it, there are suspicions, speculations, hopes, fears and perseverations.

The visual scene ahead is chaos at its finest. It looks like eighty insane men with giant caulking guns were let loose for five minutes to see what they could do. There is scarcely an inch that isn't dripping with sickly yellow foam. You pick and choose your steps slowly, afraid what the stuff might eat through your shoes. Such pickyness slows your progress considerably.
Anna makes a squeaking noise behind you. Turning around slowly, you see that she has got her boot cracking open one of the doors. You tip toe over to help her, noticing a steady flow of water emerging from underneath the door frame. Miraculously avoiding the puddle of foam and water, the two of you force open the door and step inside. The smell lessens as the rain patters heavily on the linoleum floor. Looking up, you see the roof has suffered major insult here. What isn't gone completely is tattered, blackened and dancing with the wind.

We have confirmation.

Chapter 6 - Snakebite

2009-12-11T17:29:00.000-08:00

There's that point in every story... okay, not every story. Ahem. There's that point in MOST stories where things get bad for the hero. Then, they usually get worse. It's the crucible - the test - wherein either heroic resolve or tragic flaw comes to describe their future actions.

“And how are you this morning?”
Anna looks at the clock. “Christ. I guess it is morning, isn't it?”
“Right up until noon.” The nurse offers a completely neutral gaze. “Just fill that out, bring it back up to me and have a seat.”
“Does snake bite get us any free passes?”
Now she offers you the same passionless look and glances briefly towards the half full waiting room. “You will be prioritized based on your paperwork.”
You find yourself amongst the sick, wounded and unemployed for about an hour. One man in a cowboy hat tells you the story of his best friend's brother, who was crushed by a tow truck and has been in intensive care for the last four months. After that, a grotesquely obese woman comes rocketing in on a wheelchair, trailed by two only slightly less fat friends. The triage nurse steps away from the counter and to take a closer look.
The fat woman whelps like a dying dog. One friend appears glued to her cell phone, shouting out the mundane events of car ride as if it were the subject of a Wagnerian opera. The other friend is barking out what sounds like a detective novel that may or may not have some relevance to the wheelchaired woman's medical history. Eventually, all three of them disappear behind the metal swinging doors.
You give Inky a nudge. “That's how you do it. Just start screaming and Anna and I will act like morons until you get in.”

Comedy, tragedy. Is that all there is?

Chapter 5 : The Second Fight

2009-12-07T16:39:00.000-08:00

In which our heroes are awoken twice. Once by the harlot and once by the bull.

Bull is circling around Inky. You friend looks oddly bored for his part. Bull heel scuffs the ground and then charges. Inky sprawls out his legs and slams his hands onto his opponent's shoulders. Despite the size difference, Bull comes to a halt. Inky drops a quick elbow to Bull's neck then seamlessly grabs the back of his jacket, pulling it forward and down, over his head. Inky goes to grab his arm around the other mans neck and there is a roar from one of the two men, you're not sure which. Inky lets go and jumps to the side. Bull stumbles forward but stays on his feet. In between the two, a spray of blood flings through the air and sizzles on the fire.

Blood on the fire. Sounds like some katana making ritual.

Chapter 4 - Another Beer?

2009-11-21T22:18:00.000-08:00

Don't think of GL's mom as mentally disturbed. Think of her instead as prophetically gifted.

“Careful now. You're talking to a woman who is deep into her fifth decade here. I better not be considered part of this so called old group you so casually insult.” She slides the beer back and forth between her hands. “Wasn't too long ago your little baby chubby cheeks would have thought someone your current age was but days from death. The median just keeps moving but the message is always the same, isn't it? I'm never going to die because when I go the world goes with me, doesn't it? And why not? The world is you, is me, is all of us wrapped in our own self constructed pockets and tied off at the top with purse strings made from the thread of our egos - never to see the light of anyone else's day.”
You watch her beer bottle teeter precariously on its rounded bottom, buffeted by your mother's whim and gravity. “Are you gonna want another one? I'm headed on down.”

It feels like halfway already.

Chapter 3 - The Shipwreck

2009-11-20T17:01:00.000-08:00

The two brothers are walking towards their next big game and contemplating their exploits from the previous night:

“You called her a whore.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember you telling me that. I don't remember why I did that, though I don't doubt that I would.”
“Why would you say that to her?”
“Specifically her? Oh, I don't think it really has anything to do with her as a person. It's just the kind of thing I might say to someone... or women specifically, when I'm drunk.”
“You are sober now.” Inky sounds unsure.
You hop on one foot to demonstrate. “Yeah, why?”
“You insulted that man back there.”
“Well he was being a jack ass, right?”

Seven more to go.

Chapter 2 - The Future Wants Kings

2009-11-18T15:42:00.000-08:00

Another excerpt from the 10 chapter short story. Is that too many chapters for a short story?

The enemy leaps and crouches behind one of the many overturned tables. You fire a couple of shots to keep him pinned as you sprint towards the door. Reload. The anxious crowd has knotted into silence again. You fire two more bullets at the table and cover the last few feet to the door. Bursting outside, you swing a hard right and hug the side of the building. Now, you wait.

The Future Wants Kings

2009-11-16T17:20:00.001-08:00

Excerpt from chapter one:

Nothing is different this time. The same crest of victory rides on the same tide of defeat - not that you lost. No. You never lose. But when the end arrives there is a sense of emptiness, the loss of that world where you existed for so many hours, days - is gone. That character you raised from miscreant to hero is no longer yours. Once again, you're back to the lonely feel of holding a plastic controller and looking at the credits of a video game. Meaningless names and titles scroll over snapshots of what was briefly your life, all set in the city where you had once been king.

Nine more days of revision.

Double Folded Corners

2009-10-20T21:59:00.000-07:00

Audiences expect the expected. Really. Teach them a new curveball and soon they'll expect that too. Erudite becomes idiom becomes cliche. So go the other way.

Start with the cliche. Ron is the hard knock x-police officer turned detective. Yawn. Mary is the x-wife who left him because work was the only thing that ever mattered to him. Snore.

So write the scene three quarters of the way through the story where Mary should be falling backwards in love with Ron and vice versa.

What's the eruditeness? Post it in the comments.

Again, again and again

2009-10-16T23:31:00.000-07:00

One Friday afternoon, sitting in his favorite chair, Ford realizes he is stuck. Not literally, of course. He can rise from the chair and walk about. He can roll to his side. He can hop up and down on the bouncy springs. No. He's stuck. Every Friday afternoon for the last ten months he's sat in this chair and flipped through whatever book happens to sit nearby, ignoring the content completely.

The question, answered in the comments, is what does he do with this realization?

Did you just see that?

2009-10-14T23:59:00.000-07:00

The adrenaline flies. After such times, character's mouths tend to try and bridge the gap between perception and comprehension. Sometimes this emerges as logorhea, other times as statements of the obvious.

Exclude the actual event and instead post the post fight or flight attempt at mental digestion to the comments.

For something obvious

2009-10-12T23:58:00.000-07:00

The hero of the sword swinging story hears echos of the past. While confronted with the difficulties of the present, the echoes of an old teacher rings in his head. DUH! It's so obvious. It was so obvious - and yet it took him ten years to make the connection.

Post the wise words of the past and the application thereof in the present to the comments.

Second person style

2009-10-11T23:54:00.000-07:00

The main character is you. Not you like you but you the pronoun and well you've really botched this latest tomb robbery because well why don't you (like you the writer) tell me just how bad you (the character) have shanked it in the comments.

I'll meet you at 3pm.

2009-10-07T23:47:00.000-07:00

Assignment :

Type : Combative dialogue
Setting : Playground
Characters : Two boys
Rules : No punches, just put downs. Clever = better.

Begin to rip each other apart in the comments.

What goes around?

2009-10-06T21:43:00.000-07:00

Task :

Describe the epic one on one battle between the leaders of two rival gangs. What's at stake? Reputation. What's the method? Knives. What rules? Yes. What rules?

Cut the tension with a knife in the comments.

It's Alive!

2009-10-05T21:33:00.000-07:00

Assignment :

That pivotal moment in the story has arrived. The construction/assembly of the mad scientists creation is complete.

Describe the moment of triumph in the comments.

The horror... the horror...

2009-10-04T23:03:00.000-07:00

Assignment :

Describe the arrival of an angry new alien species to modern day earth.

Unwind your primal fears in the comments.

Corruption Charges

2009-10-02T23:13:00.000-07:00

Assignment :

Type : Mostly monologue
Characters : Arch Villain and Hero
Scene : The master plan is revealed
Complications : The Hero is strapped to a solar powered cotton gin and dawn is ten minutes away

Dominate the world in the comments.

In your eyes...

2009-10-01T23:14:00.000-07:00

In 500 words or less, describe how a new system of government that is better than all the rest.

Bring us peace, harmony and prosperity in the comments.

Unwhat you where?

2009-09-30T23:59:00.000-07:00

Write:

Type : Monologue
Subject : Speaker has been mired in a dilemma of their own making
Conflict : Sense of morality versus actions taken
Content : Lament, ponder, decide.

Suffer some slings in the comments.

How many blackbirds?

2009-09-29T22:06:00.000-07:00

Mission :

Write a nursery rhyme that includes at least one current pop reference that will in a century be obscure, seem insane or appear as gibberish.

Gibber your way into children's hearts in the comments.

Nozzles on...

2009-09-28T14:26:00.001-07:00

Assignment:

Type : Stream of consciousness
Duration : 5 minutes

Set your timers on and go in the comments.

Cap Size

2009-09-26T21:16:00.000-07:00

The Glamour:

Write a seven line poem with the rhyme scheme : ABCCCBA

Post your scrambled half sonnet to the comments.

Courage, Young Hearts...

2009-09-25T22:29:00.000-07:00

Prepare:

Type : Inspirational speech
Speaker : Leader of a war party
Audience : Members of same party
Length : Long enough to evoke, short enough to ignite

Make George Patton proud in the comments.

Battle Hymn

2009-09-24T22:14:00.000-07:00

Assignment :

Type : Wanted poster
Length : 500 words or less
Content : Description of criminal, crime and reward

Keep the township clean in the comments.

You can't Con a Pro

2009-09-23T14:36:00.001-07:00

Assignment:

Write a two paragraph persuasive argument against a 1 child per couple law.

Argue up the population in the comments.

If you're pro con...

2009-09-21T21:36:00.000-07:00

Assignment:

Write a two paragraph persuasive argument for a 1 child per couple law.

Argue down the population in the comments.

Efficacy

2009-09-20T23:45:00.000-07:00

Task :

Alliterate the way through a five line poem in which the fabric of the universe is held together by a common house cat.

Post your stripe of feline to the comments.

Meta Major, Meta Minor

2009-09-19T23:30:00.000-07:00

Assignment:

Type : Book review
Length : 2 paragraphs + numerical rating (out of 5)
Subject : A new kid's book about seahorses

Convince others to purchase or hide from this imaginary book in the comments.

What she said

2009-09-18T21:49:00.000-07:00

Write :

Type : Half a Dialogue
Setting : Public transport
Characters : Two : one eavesdropper, one phone speaker

Drop your half a conversation in the comments.

Feature a feature

2009-09-17T23:13:00.000-07:00

Assignment :

Type : Character sketch
Personality : Villain
Genre : Fantasy
Detail : Must have one outstanding physical trait

Post your outline to the comments.

In Qualia we Trust

2009-09-16T18:05:00.000-07:00

Assignment:

Meat : What makes history?
Matter : 500 words or less

Philosophize in the comments.

Have I got a mission for you?

2009-09-15T16:06:00.000-07:00

Assignment:

Type : Sales pitch
Crux : The loan for your new product
Length : The Hollywood sell - quick and to the point

Sell your widget to the bank in the comments.

There's definitely something...

2009-09-14T17:34:00.000-07:00

Assignment :

Type : Suspense
Setting : Warehouse
Crux : Power failure has hit the building
Characters : Sleuth following a lead. Plus any others you like.
Length : 500 words or less

Post your episode to comments.

Over the crest of what?

2009-09-13T22:25:00.000-07:00

Assignment :

Type : Scene setting
Length : 500 words or less
Crux : The final stretch of a journey lies ahead.

Post your epic final dash to comments.

I can almost hear you.

2009-09-12T21:51:00.000-07:00

Assignment :

Type : Song lyrics
Length : 3 verses, 1 chorus + refrain
Format : verse 1, verse 2, chorus, verse 3, chorus, refrain.
Crux : keys are lost

Display some lyricism in the comments.

M.I.X. the letters in the bowl

2009-09-11T11:59:00.000-07:00

Assignment:

Type : Poem
Length : 6 lines
Rhyme Scheme : AABBAB

Post your lines to comments.

The mean of meaning

2009-09-10T15:52:00.000-07:00

Assignment:

Type : Constructive
Length : 3 Terms
Crux : Make up three words, their definitions and usage.

Post your new vocabulary to comments.

On to the end...

2009-09-09T18:10:00.000-07:00

Assignment:

Type : Stream of Consciousness
Duration : 5 minutes

Write as much as you can, no editing.

Post your version to comments.

White Label Test Press

2009-09-08T15:22:00.000-07:00

Assignment :

Type : Dialogue
Length : 500 words or less.
Setting : Car, stuck in traffic.
Characters : 2-5
Crux : Big sporting event is about to begin.

Post your version to comments.

What is this?

2009-09-07T12:13:00.000-07:00

What?
This is a jump start to creative writing. It's a crossfit hack applied to the pen.

Why?
Because the mind is a muscle and grows or shrinks accordingly by usage.

How?
Read the assignment, come up with your version and post it on the comments.

Who?
You and everyone you know.

When?
Every day if possible. Think tortoise and the hare where the rabbit rides the shell, holds the reins and looks bravely off into the horizon even if it means occasionally stepping in a pothole.