Category Archives: Invisible Ink

When the Sky Catches Fire

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borealis1

Apologies in advance. This post may end up completely disjointed with random junk plotted all over the map. There are two distinct things I’d like to wax poetic about, but (for reasons) I cannot. There are interested parties on two completely different fronts, fighting unconnected battles, which would skin me alive if I revealed recent troop movements or laid bare their battle plans.

Thus, this post will be encrypted: shot full with trickery holes, truths disguised as musings, vagueness muddying up the core ideas, red herrings squirming in the mix for good measure. Hopefully, it feels personal, yet mysteriously so. You may even feel you know what the words are hinting at. You may be right. You may be wrong. That’s the thing with ambiguity, it often tricks us into jumping to conclusions or seeing ourselves reflected. But, often, it is merely a trick of the light. Don’t fall victim to its whispers. Instead, merely float with me in the randomness of the aether.

For years now, I’ve wanted to go to Iceland. I envision this nexus of elemental beauty: I’m relaxing in a steaming pool fed by a natural hot spring, there is cold, pure-white snow on the ground, the Northern Lights are twisting like dancing ribbons above my head. It’s so utterly quiet. My breathing is the only sound. I have never experienced this in real life, with the heavens all aflame. But, someday, I will. This past Thursday, the sun propelled a solar flare in Earth’s direction. Tonight, there’s a chance I will see the aurora borealis pirouetting above my head. I’m right on the line of a “good” and “fair” chance. I can’t control whether the clouds block my view. All I can do is stand outside at 8 p.m., gaze upward, and hope the sky ignites with purples and greens.

I’m positive I’ve tweeted this in the past, and I’m pretty sure I’ve couched it within a previous post. I love the stacatto line in Jay Brannan’s The State of Music: “If I don’t know who I am, everyone will tell me.” I’ve never had much of a problem with knowing who I am. That doesn’t mean I’ve always fit in. Usually the opposite has proven true. Being both creative and stubborn doesn’t sit well with everyone. My belief is that it unnerves the more square among us. They sense something alive and powerful, perhaps something they do not have, and they fear it. Or envy it. But those who appreciate such a combination–normally because they nurture the same within themselves–are my instant companions. Those shining souls are who I choose to surround myself with. The more sparkly and full of  twisted, beautiful vision, the better.

It’s real easy to say, “I want a pony.” I suppose some folks get ponies all the time. Some people have to build bigger stables to hold them all. Over the course of my life, I have had a Shetland or two tied to the hitching post, but mostly I’ve been content to live without something  so frivolous. Every pony I’ve ever had came to me because I went out and lassoed the little fucker with my very own rope. In recent weeks I have been responsible for making others’ pony dreams come true. And they want flying ponies one day, then invisible ones the next. There is a lot of work in the finding, the research, the negotiation, the transport, the boarding, the continual care, the loving. Yeah, it’s real easy for some folks to say, “I want a pony”, and then have that baby horse magically appear. The thing about ponies like that is, they are so easily forgotten and neglected. And the cute little ponies always grow up.

I like to follow breadcrumbs. They can be digital, or mental, or physical; I’m not picky. I enjoy connecting the dots, following the string, reading the signs. Sometimes, I end up dead-wrong and utterly lost. That’s okay. Because, other times, I find the treasure.

Beyond Iceland, I have a long list of things I will do. Hang-gliding is one of them. I’ve checked skydiving, bungeeing, and ultra-lite flying off my list. I was so close to hang-gliding 2 summers ago. As part of a vacation where we made the journey the actual trip, a gliding experience was one of the scheduled stops. All was set. I would leap off a Tennessee cliff with an instructor at my side. The day before, he let me know that the wind forecast looked adverse, but he’d keep his eyes on it and let me know. Later that night, he broke my heart. The wind was going to be strong–which was good. But it was blowing sheer to the face–which was bad. The jump was cancelled. So my companions and I trucked onward to Hiddenite, NC and sluiced for emeralds and sapphires instead. I still want to hang-glide. Soon. But  right now, I can go open a little velvet bag and pour out the most amazing collection of semi-precious stones that I sluiced from a cold creek.

—

Well, that ought to be enough ambiguous story time for one day. I have gems to find, ponies to lasso, and flammable skies to [perhaps] bask in.

borealis2

If you’re wondering, only 1/4 of this is in anyway connected to the writing slice of my world. PRO TIP: Out in Twitterland, or on Facebook, here are two secret cues you can use to know that something awesome [but unspeakable] is going down on the writing front. 1. If you see this: *things*, then yeah, that’s referring to mega-cool writing shit. 2. If I tweet or post the song “Lucas With the Lid Off”, then you know some kind of amazing has landed. Follow the breadcrumbs. Or the dancing ribbons. Or the white rabbit. Or whatever.

Phreak Show Idiolect Glossary

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The pulleys and gears in the gadget known as “SPELL-CHECK” kinked up and ground to a halt when encountering a number of colloquialisms and lexiconical creations in the novel Phreak Show. In many cases, the words are clearly part of the modern vernacular, yet they were summarily rejected. As a result, The Council of Indispensable Words has compiled this Phreak Show Idiolect Glossary

aether – n. ever-present ionized vapor; materializes as a purple-green borealis similar to the Northern Lights; can be harnessed as a sustainable energy source; a select few, known as MAESTROS, can wield its power
aint – v. [slang] is not; spoken by the uneducated, or by the educated for dramatic effect
amazeballs – adj. [slang] amazing or phenomenal
b.o. – n. [abbreviation] body odor
batshit – adj. [origin unknown] ridiculously; unbelievably; often paired with “crazy”
bazillionaire – n. person possessing a ridiculous amount of wealth
blimping – v. swelling; quickly filling with air or matter
blipping – n. this stupid, jacked up, empathy thing which totally effs up Tera’s life
blippo – n. mispronunciation of BLIPPING
boyband hair – adj. longish-shortish, perfectly styled tresses
braniac – n. extremely intelligent person; prone to using perspicacious words
butthurt – adj. [condescending phrase] whiny or overly defensive response to a petty issue
carnies – n. [derogatory] carnival performers and those of their ilk; stereotyped as uneducated, unscrupulous characters with more criminal convictions than teeth
clanky – adj. emitting a sharp, rattling, mechanical sound
cooch – n. [slang] a lady’s nether regions; term used by cads and trollops
cooze – n. [derogatory] combination of “cootie” and “ooze”; a mean person, usually female
creepo – adj. creepy; weird
crossgender – adj. expressing gender outside the binary terms of male and female
dollbaby – n. [origin: older southern women] baby doll; may refer to child’s toy or a cute boy or girl resembling such a toy
dookied – v. doo-dooed
eeking – v. squeezing out a painfully small amount at a time
effed, effin, effed-up – adj. or v. [diet cusswords] non-vulgar forms of the base word “f%@#”
fatgirl – n. self-effacing term for an overweight girl
fatsuit – n. a greasy covering of globs of fat and cellulite
fishbelly – n. or adj. pale and tender skin; similar to the soft belly of a fish
flippin – adj. [diet cussword] see: EFFIN
framing – n. the correct term for BLIPPING; power wielded by a MAESTRO in which he or she manipulates the AETHER to both experience and physically manifest another person’s inner faults and fears
freakmeister – n. master of freaks
ghettomobile – n. see: HOOPTY
gig – v. [southern U.S. origin] give someone the finger; flip the bird; one finger salute
glowsticks – n. plastic cylinders that contain two liquids that temporarily create light using chemiluminescence
hoopty – n. automobile in an unattractive, depressing state of repair; identified by continual breakdowns, rust, a horrible half-done paintjob, patches of duct tape, etc.
hottie – n. a sexually attractive person
inkroom – n. private room in a tattoo parlor designated for tattooing
janky, janked-up – adj. messed up; out of whack; twisted
jerkhole – n. [diet cussword] a jerk; non-vulgar version of the word “a$$hole”
kajillion – adj. a hell of a lot; an almost infinite number
lurve – v. [slang] decidedly feminine way of expressing the word “love”
manipulatory – adj. controlling by artful, unfair, or insidious means
microcephalic – n. or adj. neurodevelopmental disorder characterized by a tiny head; microcephalics were sometimes sold to freak shows in the 19th and early 20th centuries, where they were known by the name “pinheads”
muncher – n. one who places his or her mouth upon an object in a munching fashion
muumuued – adj. dressed in a loose-fitting garment of floral-print polyester; rarely found outside the female, octogenarian population
nerdfighter – n. person who is proud to be nerdy and intelligent, and fights to increase awesome and decrease Worldsuck
nerdtime – n. celebration of cerebrality
nooner – n. mid-day teaser performance of The Last American Phreak Show
normals – n. see: RUBES
nutjob – n. [term of endearment] goofy, funny, silly, crazy person; [derogatory] psychopath
ooey – adj. viscid; sticky
orgasmically – adv. happening in a pleasurable or rapturous manner
pecs – n. pectoralis muscles; firm, sexy chest muscles on a male
perv – n. short for “pervert”; person who drools over or treats another in an unwelcome, sexual manner
pervy – adj. being a total PERV
phreak – n. member of a troupe of teen misfits enslaved in a sideshow by their warped self-images; anyone who has left the realm of the RUBES by embracing his or her inner phreakiness
phreakazoid – n. see: PHREAK
phreakiest, phreakified, phreakiness, phreakish, phreako, phreaky  – adj. of, resembling, or possessing the characteristics of a phreak
pipped – v. spoke in a high-pitched, annoyingly squeaky voice
pissy – adj. having the color, consistency, or smell of urine; a bad attitude
poofy – adj. overly puffy
puppetmaster – n. controlling person gifted with the power of persuasion through either mundane or magical means
razored – v. sliced; cut open in a quick, excruciating manner
rubes – n. outsiders; townies; those oblivious to the underlying mysteries and ways of the Phreak Show
sapiosexual – n. a form of sexual orientation characterized by a strong attraction to intelligence in others, often regardless of gender and/or conventional attractiveness
scooched – v. slid or scooted
scrogged – adj. messed up; jacked up; see: EFFED
sexyfied – adj. looking hot, desirable, and perhaps a little trampy
shammie – n. amazingly absorbent cotton cloth
showbill – n. flyer announcing an act or performance. adj. font or script used to advertise plays, carnivals, circuses, etc
showmaster – n. leader of a performing troupe in a carnival, circus, or sideshow; MAESTRO
showmom – n. mother who lives vicariously through her child by forcing him or her to extremes in public performance
shrimpy – adj. tiny; miniscule
Skinbook – n. low-brow name for the Versipilles
slenderfied – adj. skinny or thin
slickster – n. person who uses slippery words and circular reasoning to convince others; see: used car salesman
snarked – v. spoke with sarcasm, bile, or bite
spazzed – v. jerked, either physically or mentally,  in a spastic manner
squeed – v. [past-tense] produced a high-pitched, exuberant squeal of excitement
steampunk – n. subculture which explores the concept of retro-futurism; addresses what the past would look and be like if the future had happened sooner; often embraces a Victorian-era aesthetic meshed with modern technology
studly – adj. manly; possessing the characteristics of a virile male
swagged – adj. draped with cloth
tattooee – n. the brave soul receiving permanent ink rammed into his or her dermis
taxidermied – adj. post-living creature whose pelt has been tanned, stuffed, and mounted
tendriled – adj. resembling, or actually having, tendrils or tentacles
toadie – n. a bad guy’s lame sidekick; see: “A Christmas Story”
uncatalogued – adj. absent from official records; see: THIS ENTIRE GLOSSARY
unibrow – n. one continuous eyebrow instead of two distinct ones; easily remedied by shaving or waxing
Versipilles – n. an ancient book bound in human skin; contains arcane knowledge about alchemy, cosmology, science, botany, magic, and other esoteric topics
wang – n. a gentleman’s nether regions; the fifth limb; term used by strumpets and scoundrels
weirdos – n. misfits, phreaks, oddballs; individuals who are misunderstood and/or judged for their uniqueness
whackjob – n. see: NUTJOB
wooting – v. hootin’ and hollerin’
yada – n. nothing of importance; usually spoken in repetition; similar to “blah”

 Wow, this took a shit-ton of work to create. But, in the end, I hope you find it useful as an interesting translation tool.

Inspired by Laundry

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I’ve been on the job hunt frontier of late.

Hundreds of want ads, dozens of applications & resumees, a few suit & tie interviews, two offers declined, and one accepted. Four days into the accepted position, I landed an interview for a much better position: more inline with my skill sets, $5 more an hour, benefits, bonuses, some thrilling challenges. A second interview followed. And then a job offer.

So I resigned from Position 1 and migrated to Position 2.

It was a wise move.

But a scary one.

Having been self-employed & out of the corporate world for 3 1/2 years, it has been interesting to climb back into that environment. And, with the pair of recent experiences, I can’t help but compare & contrast them. Basically, they are two completely different animals. One trait that makes them seem like separate species living on distant planets from one another is the initial Training program.

Position 1: Super-structured. Classroom setting. Dedicated company Trainer. Detailed. Pre-planned & laid out syllabus-style. Learning Objectives, Skill Activities, Software Navigation, Knowledge Assessments. Graded tests. A 9-week program with the end goal of preparing me for the nuances of Position 1. Continued on-the-spot support and guidance once on the job.

Then there’s Position 2’s training…

Position 2: Stream-of-consciousness, learn as you go method. One-on-one Mentor (of sorts) passing the torch. Hands-on, dive in, sink or swim, give it a try education. Mentor is mainly performing a massive, mental infodump of years of specific knowledge stored inside his head. Take notes along the way and try to keep up. Actual, complicated tasks being done in real-time as a means of learning. A compressed training program of undetermined length (estimated at 4-6 weeks), after which Mentor’s mantle will be firmly cast upon my shoulders and I will take full, 100% unaided responsibility for Position 2.

The Position 1 training was very systematic and thorough, yet felt quite like I was part of a Cold War propaganda & brainwashing program. On the other hand, the Position 2 training is very haphazard & freeform, yet a better fit for me. Since the end goal isn’t to follow a prescribed program–but to absorb and understand the information–I get to tailor the direction, speed, and depth of the knowledge transmission.

And this will ultimately ensure I know what the hell I’m doing once Mentor shoves me out of the nest and then flies away for good.

Today, my friend Kate posted detail of her weekly laundry rituals.
http://kateannejack.wordpress.com/2013/02/16/what-a-way-to-start-the-weekend/
Until this exact moment, as I’m typing this, I had no idea Kate’s post would influence mine. But, now, I find myself wanting to draw a laundry analogy. [Weird. But thanks for the subliminal push, Kate???]

While self-employed, I wore whatever the heck I wanted. My clothes depended on the tasks for the day.
– Workshop: Junky, paint & stain spattered jeans, a holey flannel, and coffee
– Marketing, Ebay & other computer work: Pajamas and coffee
– Antique show or booth setup: Fancy clothes, highly polished shoes, a genuine smile, and coffee

Now, I dress like a good, conscientious Office Manager should. That means business casual. Ironing. And, of course, coffee.

But, here’s the thing about laundry. Eventually, I will need to have all the tasks of Position 2 ironed, perfectly draped over wooden hangers, and organized by color for easy selection when the time comes. But, for now, I’m in the crumpled up, heaped in strangled piles, starting to sort phase. I’m fishing out the whites from the jumbled midst of the darks. Next, I’ll divide up the fancy clothes from the work clothes and stage them in their respective loads. They’ll go into the washer as a wadded mess, and come out clean. Then folded & put away, or ironed to a crisp, professional state.

In Position 2, a load of whites is in the spin cycle while I’m still sorting the dark dirties. But guess what? There’s no brainwashing going on. No tests are being graded. Instead, my progress is being assessed by my actual ability to complete the required tasks with critical thinking and a true understanding of their interconnectedness.

And I’m nowhere near overwhelmed by the amount of laundry & ironing left to do. I know it will get done. And I’ll look all schnazzy & prepared when fully thrust into my new role.

And did I mention that FREE company-provided coffee flows all day? Yeah, it does. So, obviously, my outfit is complete. I suspect that the haphazard nature of the training is all a ruse. Any company that would provide free coffee for its employees obviously has a firm grasp on what it takes to ensure those employees are well-prepared for their day. Position 1 had a coffee vending machine. Like $1.25 a cup or something. Right…

Regardless of the training or pay rate or any other factor, the IMPORTANCE OF COFFEE POLICY proves I made the right decision.

Now, off to do some real laundry. These damn clothes aren’t going to wash or iron themselves.

INVISIBLE INK: I go into posting mode with a basic concept of what I want to say. But, as the words flow, their destination often changes. They switch back, hurl in another direction, and surprise me with what they have in mind. This post had two other working titles before the current one. “Clunky vs Nimble” and then “Efficient & Cold vs Unwieldy Yet Right”. The concept was going to be more focused on a specific, daunting challenge I have in Position 2. Alas, the words veered from that end. But, look for that rambling in a future post.

Action! [And Invisible Ink?]

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Oscars

Being burned out is different from needing a break.

Other than brainstorming for some flash fiction, I haven’t written for six weeks. [Unless you count writing checks for bills or revising my résumé. Shite. I haven’t even been blogging as regularly as I ought.] That is by far the longest non-writing spell I’ve had during the last 2 1/2 years.

It’s odd how the process for Phreak Show has been so different from my previous novels. As always, the premise & ideas developed over time. They simmered and congealed in my head for months. I scribbled a few gems down so as not to forget them, but then held all that info in a sort of suspended animation in my head. In a moment of weakness, I drafted and revised the opening page before a conference.

And then I made myself stop.

I was holding out for NaNo. I remember dying to get the words out. The characters were yapping all the time–developing and morphing and becoming folks with their own rich, private histories. I’ve never been on a movie set right before filming begins, but that’s what I felt like was going on. The actors were getting to know one another, practicing their lines, feeling one another out. Alliances and enmities were formed. Flirtations began. Evil eyes were cast.

Then the planning and gap-filling for the novel took place. November came, and the mad, loose drafting started. I hit my personal goal of 60k by Thanksgiving. And without backtracking, reading, or revising, I set the world aside.

And then I made myself stop. Again.

I haven’t touched it since. And that is something I’ve never done before.

Normally I blaze through the first draft, maybe take a few days off at most, then dive back into revising the story. Not so with Phreak Show. I didn’t lose interest in it. I definitely didn’t burn out on the characters or the storyline. I didn’t lose steam or get stuck on which way the tale would turn next. There was something about how well the narrative was going and how amazing everything was coming together that made me not want to screw it up. Or something.

Is  it a line from a movie or a statement from an actual friend I’m remembering right now? Something about a guy getting his hair cut three days before a wedding so he would look well-groomed but not like he had gotten his hair cut the day before? That is where I’ve been with the drafting of Phreak Show. Another hair analogy [what’s with all the hair?] which comes to mind is planning a dye job a few days before an important event. That first day, the new color is screaming and vibrant. But almost too vibrant. Know what I mean? Like the fiery-red needs to chill out a minute, rest, relax, calm down, age, mellow, whatever.

Phreak Show has been doing all those things.

But, the characters are stirring. The break is over and the cast members are stumbling back onto set. A few are groggy and apparently hungover. Others are chipper and almost too eager to slip back in front of the camera. The propmaster is dusting off the creepy specimens in the Odditorium. The gaffer is ensuring that the sideshow’s Tesla-inspired lighting system is ready for night taping.

If I’m going Paparazzi-Reporter for a minute, I feel compelled to divulge that Tera, in particular, is battling with her nerves. She has recently discovered her new role in the twisted plot and really wants to nail this next batch of scenes. [Sources say she is deadset on an Academy Award this year.] And the growing connection with Niko? Well, they’re both remaining silent on the topic, but they were recently spotted with their lips locked beneath the downspray of a public fountain in Savannah. Not exactly a platonic co-worker kind of move.

So, the stage and actors are ready. So is the Director. I have the loft all to myself for the next 5 days. Guess what that means? We’re gonna finish shooting this thing. Just a few final scenes–jam-packed with emotion, action & major sacrifice–and then we’ll wrap it up and head to editing.

Wish us luck. Tell us to ‘break a leg’ and all that. We’re going back in.

Ahhh! Finally, some more invisible ink. While the “ACTION!” has been slowly building in my throat and moving to the tip of my tongue, a recent event has smacked my back and made me spit out the word. A few days ago, Lit Agent Louise Fury followed me on Twitter. Out of the blue. Like, I haven’t been talking about writing or #PhreakShow or anything. In fact, in the thrust of the holidays and a general hiatus from all things writerly, my Twitter presence has diminished of late. I previously queried her with two other projects and I’m sure I was following her at one point. But when I checked, I had to ‘Follow’ her again. So, I thought the whole thing was interesting, but didn’t revel too much in the thought.

Then, today, I got notification that I had a new comment on the Phreak Show page of this here blog. Guess who it’s from? Yep. Go check it out.

The Plotting Wall

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This was my writing nook earlier this evening: ambient, cozy, uber-organized & highly functional. But that focal wall behind my laptop was looking a bit empty. Too empty, in fact, with me being so close to beginning the first draft of Phreak Show. So I printed out some of my OneNote plotting info and turned that blank wall into this:

Now I have a visual reference for the major elements: call to adventure, refusal of the call, crossing the threshold, plot points, pinch points, mid-story twist, climax, etc . There are also setting notes, conflict opportunities, specific scenes, and random lines thrown into the mix. Over the next two weeks, these strips will move around, and probably triple in number.

I’m a very visual person. This set-up grants me a bird’s-eye-view of the story. When I begin the actual drafting, I will mark through each reference with a highlighter as it becomes part of the story. Maybe it’s silly, but I like seeing that colorful progress. It motivates me to keep going. I used this process for the first time when I wrote Freeborn. As I got into the thick of it, I knew I would use it for every future novel.

One tool I didn’t utilize with Freeborn, but am using with Phreak Show, is character cards. I created one of these for each of my named characters:

While I have all these in a digital file, I wanted to hang them right in front of my face—like an open photo album. Historically, Victorian sideshows had at least 10 attractions; more commonly, they had 12-15. Phreak Show has 11. That’s a lot of folks to keep up with. I’m counting on this set of cards to keep the characters fresh in my mind, make sure I keep their descriptions consistent, and remind me of anyone I leave out for too many consecutive scenes.

Every part of the writing process is fun to me. But this next stage, where I begin filling in the gaps & fleshing out the details, is one of my favorites. With the concrete, tangible scraps of paper in front of me, it really feels like something is being accomplished—like the story will take shape, that it is coming to be.

If you wanna stop by and have a seat on one of the settees, then consider this an open invitation. The coffee’s always hot. And if you’re nice, I might even let you pin something to the plotting wall. I know, I know! I get pretty excited about it, too.

{Sidenote: See that lovely hand cutout? It pivots like a mailbox flag. When it’s up, it means: Leave me alone. I’m writing. Only bother me if I need to back up my files real quick before bolting out of the burning building.}

And He Winds Up the Pitch

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Image

I am so not a sports fan. At all. But, you know, the post title…

I have committed to honing the pitch for Phreak Show before drafting it, as opposed to after. My theory is that this will help me boil it down to the basics before I start muddying up my own brain with all the details that are about to go down on paper.

Here it is. The latest version. Comments & feedback welcome.

When Tera sees through the 605 pounds of fat smothering Twiggy the Blubber Girl, and finds a hurting teen beneath, she knows something’s crazy-twisted with the Last American Phreak Show. The powerful Phineas is enslaving the acts by using their own warped self-images against them.

Tera can’t just keep her mouth shut and walk away. Sacrificing her own sorry excuse for normality, Tera joins the sideshow—becoming a phreak herself. She quickly learns she’s powerless to set the others free. She’s just as effed up as they are. And the gawking, taunting rubes at every performance along the show’s route reinforce the painful lies holding them all captive.

Only by banding together can the troupe withstand the clashes with the locals, and become strong enough to break free from Phineas. But internal jealousies, insecurities, and tangled relationships pit the freaks against one another. Even when the ragtag group feels like home, a nagging truth gnaws at Tera: they will each have to confront the scary, powerful phreak lurking inside their own skin. Alone. Freedom won’t be won with fancy costumes, slick talk, and sideshow tricks. The battle will be fought in a much deeper place.

Being a phreak isn’t about looks. It’s a frame of mind.

This is probably version #10 out of a possible #3,000. That is to say, apologies in advance for all the future versions you’ll have to suffer through. As a ‘Thank You’…
The MC, Tera, gets her name from Teratology–the study of monsters.

Well Whattya Know?

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Gamzee with Sopor Pie

I was on kid duty this weekend.

We didn’t do anything major, like hit an amusement park, but we had a great time just being us. Planning Halloween costumes & shopping for the random supplies kept us busy. Creating a custom white werewolf & a cosplay-level Gamzee Makara, well, these things take time. We also, somehow, ended up taste-testing all the flavors in the spice rack. Yes, anise tastes like nasty black licorice, mustard seed is pretty tangy, and chewed cloves make your tongue feel like you’ve been licking a battery.

Both the teenage girl & pre-teen boy had friends come over at some point during the weekend. My son and his bud battled their Beyblades for awhile. This reminded me of hanging out with my childhood friend, Eddie, and zipping cars around his racetrack. Other than that resemblance to my childhood, the rest of my kids’ interaction was different than my own experience at both their ages. For the majority of their time together with their friends, my kiddos were glued to the laptop.

They basically used it as their personal on-demand video player & research library. Due to the 5 year age difference, and the whole opposite-gender thing, they obviously have different tastes. But what they had in common was pulling up videos on YouTube, hitting forums related to the topics they were watching, chatting & laughing with their friends about it all, and using that digital touchpoint as a means of interaction.

At first I was thinking, Well, that’s no different than me chatting on Facebook or Twitter. But it is different. When that’s going on [which, is like, a lot…] I am physically alone at the keyboard, interacting with an avatar–a projection of the real person on the other end. I believe that the person tethered to that electronic image is the same as in the picture. But I don’t really know. Maybe I don’t even care. By that I mean, I’m not really engaging with that actual person, but the stream of words that person chooses to send out. And I am okay with that. There is editing. A self-determined set of rules is in place which governs what information we transmit back and forth. I might be getting the whole truth, no truth, or something in-between. The same for you.

But, that person is not sitting beside me. Distance and pixels separate us.

Even as I’m drafting this post: you have no idea what I’m wearing [if anything], where I’m sitting [coffee shop? library? home? in a cubicle?], or if I’m even slightly like the person you think you’re interacting with. I am holding back information–you don’t know my kids’ names. I am releasing pieces and chunks: you know I have a spice rack, that my family enjoys the whole dressing-up-for-Halloween thing, that I had a childhood friend named Eddie. But how much of that is true? What if I don’t even have kids? Or, if I do, why was I on kid duty this weekend? Why was this weekend different than any other? What if Eddie never existed? Or we played with dolls instead of cars?

And you can’t look at my face, hear me snicker, playfully punch me if I get cheeky, catch my contagious yawn. If we were at dinner, or a bar, or in a car, then we could experience these things with one another. But, at opposite ends of the wi-fi, we lack the physical presence my kids enjoyed with their friends. If I have kids. If they have friends.

So what the hell are you getting at, Lucas?

Maybe nothing. Maybe something deep and profound. Maybe this isn’t even Lucas, but one of his [imaginary?] kids hacking into his blog. If so, that young’un did a pretty bang-up job of mimicking his online voice. My online voice. I’d be a pretty proud, impressed papa if that were true. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. You’ll never know. And maybe that’s the point.

For the record, I do have two amazing kids. I was on Daddy-Duty because their mom was in Louisville, KY visiting an old army buddy. We didn’t really taste the mustard seeds, though. We’ve done it before, and know better. Eddie was my best friend when I lived in the tiny tobacco town of Pine Level, NC. We not only played with his glow-in-the-dark racetrack, but also ate Cap’n Crunch straight out of the box, and stole wood from our nemesis’ treehouse to make our own. 😉 Most everything I blog about is 98% true & unembellished. All things written in invisible ink are 100% certified truth.

A Phunky Thing Happened on the Way to the Phreak Show

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I’m a plotter. Tried and true.

Phreak Show has been chewing holes in that rigid process.

My outline is, I’d say, 78% done. That means I’m at least a few weeks out from drafting. But the NW Ohio SCBWI conference tempted me into starting early. The big bully!

I secured one of the 15 spots for a First Page Read during one of the sessions. Cool. Writing and public speaking together in one place? Perfect. I love them both. As I was going over my pre-conference materials and organizing all the things, I realized there was a hiccup. The editor leading that session was the same one who was already giving me a critique for Freeborn. So, I would basically be wasting the First Page opportunity since she would have already read and hacked at it by then.

Phreak Show still had plenty of prep work in the queue before I’d be ready to write. You know, according to the plan. But the opening scene had already formed in my head. It had been drafted and rewritten in mental-land a few times over. I worked on it while driving, sanding, showering, and in those few moments each morning while still snuggling under the covers. So, I broke my normal process and drafted the opener–just enough to get a written first page.

Then I shared it at the conference.

Wow. I was floored by the positive feedback–genuine, passionate, and encouraging. People hunted me down in the hallway to talk about it. These weren’t the obligatory “That was really good” conversations. My fellow writers gushed about the way the story started & where it was leading. They asked questions and expressed that they absolutely wanted to know more. Right then. At that moment. Two different times I sat down in a new session and was introduced by a stranger, to another stranger, as “The guy who’s writing that story I told you about.”

I picked up a half-dozen CPs just from that 2-day-old first page. One older lady in particular caught me off guard. She made me feel like a celebrity or a rockstar. She approached me all timid, meek and mild. I could barely hear her because she kept her head slightly bowed—like she was nervous to be in my presence. Seriously. I was like—Whoooah. I’m just an unpublished dude who read a page of an unwritten book at a conference. Really. That’s it. But, in those moments, she made me feel like so much more than that. Important. Like an author.

She explained that she is a PB & MG author, and doesn’t usually read a lot of YA, but if I needed someone to read Phreak Show—she would be honored. [Of course we swapped contact info! How in the world could I have said no to that?]

After the conference, it was time to get back to the outline. I tacked a few new ideas into the file and continued reading a book on the history of Victorian side shows I’m using for research. But the writing–the continuation of the story on paper–kept clawing at me. “Really?! But the outline still isn’t done!” I protested. I fought it. I avoided it. Then, being the sucker I am, I accidentally opened the Word document…

It looks like I’ll be drafting the first chapter (and maybe even the second…) before the outline is completed. I already know what takes place in these initial chapters, so I’m running with it. For the record, I am doing this under duress. The story is making me. My own anal-retentive, organizational nature is being overrun with something stronger–something phreaky.

In the immortal words of the Borg, oddly juxtaposed with those of the Vicomte de Valmont from Dangerous Liaisons: “Resistance is futile. It’s beyond my control.”

Thus, I #amwriting.

The bluebird on his bicep stretched itself out line by line, wrapping an intricate sleeve of blue-black feathers around his arm. The ink crawled up his neck, like roots burrowing beneath his skin. Tendrils of tattoos wriggled over his cheeks, his chin, his forehead until every empty patch was covered in line and shading, image and symbol. Metal sprang out along the edges of his ears, like looping teeth of a zipper. Bars and rings blossomed on his face–wherever they found a hunk of flesh loose enough to bite into. His dark irises quivered with crystal-blue. The color rippled out like a tiny wave, washing out all the deep brown.

Still, he kept staring. Like nothing was wrong. Like it was my turn to speak. But the blipping wasn’t done. It always started with the physical things—changes in their appearance, a transformation on the outside. But the stabbing in my gut always came next. Tiny fists pounding my heart in rapid fire. Emotion so strong, so strong—

Yeah, I’d Do a TV Show

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For no apparent reason, I woke up three hours earlier than my alarm this morning. Even more perplexing, I actually got up instead of rolling around in the sheets until I fell back asleep.

There are two exciting things happening over the next couple days. But I can’t really attribute the early rising to those. They actually hadn’t crossed my mind until I sat down to burn the fog off my mind with a blog post. Since I’m up, and my subconscious has thrust this pair of events to the surface, I suppose I shall yap about them.

This Friday kicks off the NW Ohio SCBWI annual conference. This will be my first in-person writing conference: seminars, critiques, pitching, advice, connections & encouragement. The timing is a bit odd. I’m in that writerly limbo space between querying one novel and writing the next.

I’m slowly developing the characters and expounding on the root ideas for Phreak Show. But this is a come-as-it-may process. I don’t rush it. I don’t force it. The characters clock in and out when they like. If they say something worth keeping, I scribble it down. The ideas drift by like clouds. If one shoots out a zap of lightning, I snap a picture of it. At this stage, I am like a court reporter–only transcribing what I hear and see. I don’t affect the proceedings in any way. I simply record them as they unfold.

So, entering this conference, I’m not in the thick of drafting or revision. Phreak Show is my work-in-progress [but only in the vaguest sense]. It will be interesting to see how attending a conference during this phase of the writing process will turn out. I’m suspecting it will kick the development of Phreak Show into overdrive.

The second event which is unfolding over the next couple of days has nothing at all to do with writing. It has to do with a TV show.

While at an antique show earlier this month, a talent scout approached my partner and I. She was searching for a pair of guys with knowledge of antiques & refurbishing skills to host a new show. Junk’d is a concept show pre-sold to CMT. Basically, it is a mashup of Extreme Home Makeover and American Pickers.

Here’s what has happened so far. The scout interviewed us with some questions regarding our experience, personalities and fit for the show. The Casting Director dug our video & followed up with a phone interview. We jumped that hurdle and moved on to a taped Skype interview. This video was edited down to two minutes and passed on to the executives. That’s the stage we’re at now. A decision is expected by Friday.

Things are set to pop quickly after that. Let’s pretend the execs select Micah and I to host the show. Here’s what would go down next. Flight to L.A. to finalize everything. Then, the pilot [of the show–not the plane…] would be filmed in Tennessee in early October. After that–more waiting to see how the pilot plays out. The whole thing could end there. If it’s a ‘go’, CMT could order a season consisting of 6-20 episodes.

This is one of those crazy-random opportunities which comes out of the blue. Obviously, there is nothing definite at this point. On Friday, I could get the whole, “You were great! But the execs decided to go in a different direction…” You know, like a form rejection to a query letter. That’s kind of how I’m mentally framing the whole possibility. It is equivalent to sending a query. The intern pushed it through the slush. The agent liked the writing sample and asked for a full. Now, agent has it and is running it by his colleagues to get their input–and final decision–on whether to offer rep as an agency or not.

Just as I’d love to land a lit agent, I’d also love to try my hand at hosting a TV Show. I mean, why the hell not?

In the meantime, I have some plotlines to shorthand and a conference to prepare for. Oh, and a fresh pot of coffee is in order. And it’s still an hour before my alarm is set to go off.  :: rubs sleepy eyes :: If you catch me napping later today, don’t tell anyone. I’m not used to being up before the sun. Wait…what time does filming start?

For those of you who are curious [and wise to the whole invisible ink thing], the payment for the TV show includes all travel & related expenses + $2,500 per co-host, per episode. Yeah, I believe I could handle that. 

Steampunk, Antiques & My Personal Celebrities

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Steamjunk on its way to Steampunk

Three times a year, the sleepy little New England town of Brimfield, Massachusetts mushrooms into an antiquing mecca with an international draw. The Brimfield Antique Market boasts 22 separate fields featuring over 5,000 vendors. The sellers converge from all over the U.S. to peddle items ranging from chipped glassware & bits of metal junk haphazardly displayed on  muddy tarps to high-end 17th century English furniture staged beautifully in showroom-style vignettes.

The estimated traffic is over 250,000 visitors per show. That’s a quarter-million antique hunters!

Like the vendors, the shoppers come from all over. Their taste has the same vast range as the items being offered. A lot of folks swoop in from the nearby cities of Boston, Philadelphia and New York. In addition to the American set, I have personally sold to clients from Canada, England, Switzerland, and Japan. These foreign buyers often target Brimfield in search of those unique items they’re itching to get their hands on.

While the majority of the shoppers and dealers are what one could term ‘ordinary folk’, with that many people amassed in one locale, there are also a good number of characters. Dudes in kilts, slave boys in leather hot-shorts, mod ladies, shirtless wonders sporting their own built-in sweaters, steampunkers, etc. I saw quite a few models for the characters in my novel-in-progress, Phreak Show.

Danielle Hinton – The perfect model for Twiggy

One girl in particular was the perfect fit for Twiggy. I pitched my novel concept, shared my character sketch, and asked if I could snap some photos for reference. She is a fan of both fantasy & steampunk, and graciously obliged the rambling request of a stranger. Danielle is a fantastic lady–you can just feel the fabulousness oozing out of her. Check her out on Etsy http://www.etsy.com/shop/ConstantlyAlice & Facebook http://www.facebook.com/ConstantlyAlice. Also, I’m pretty sure I have added another pre-publication sale of Phreak Show to the list. 😉

Celebrities also slip into the mix at Brimfield. A few big names are frequent shoppers. Tommy Hilfiger and his crew often swoop in placing tag after tag on items they’re interested in. [Making the dealers quite happy.] There were rumors that Barbara Streisand was at this last show. I personally wouldn’t be all gushing to see her pass by, but I sure ran into a lot of people that seemed more interested in hunting her down than searching for an antique to purchase.

I did meet and interact with two celebrities-of-sorts which are more inline with my personal interests.

First was Evan Michelson, co-owner of the NY shop Obscura, cohost of the show “Oddities”, and lover of all things weird & macabre. My partner and I went with a Fun Haus theme for this show. Over the last two months, we focused on collecting circus & carnival items, medical & funerary equipment, anatomical models, and both animal and human specimens. Evan was in our booth three different times chatting with us. She purchased 4 items from us and gave us a verbal pat-on-the-back with, “You guys have really great stuff.”

Between visits, Micah said, “We should get her autograph.” I talked the fanboi off the ledge and convinced him not to badger the poor woman. Evan likes creepy things, but I’m pretty sure gushing fanbois are excluded from her must-have list.  In exchange for his reserve, Micah got to assist her by carrying some items and escorting her to her vehicle. On the trek, Evan shared some insight into her personality and how the show has affected her life. So, instead of a restraining order, Micah got a bit of personalized interaction with Evan.

 

The second celebrity  I met and chatted with at length was Bruce Rosenbaum. If you’re into steampunk–and you don’t know this name–then rectify this at once. These links will help: http://www.modvic.com/ & http://www.facebook.com/ModVic. It may be overkill, but I consider him the reigning godfather of the Steampunk movement. We talked about steampunk in general, where Micah & I are heading with our design company, my Phreak Show concept, and random other topics. I showed him the YA Steampunk I was reading, The Girl in the Steel Corset. It turns out he personally knows the author, Kady Cross. At the end, we exchanged business cards and he told me to get in touch with any questions along the way or if we come across any items he may be interested in.

It was great to meet these folks. Especially at the juncture where Micah & I have set a new aesthetic & philosophical course for our business. We are calling it “Victweirdian”. Think: Steampunk furniture, lighting, accessories, clothing, jewelry, and art mixed with oddities that would be included in a cabinet of curiosities. Our shopping and brainstorming for this new venture have already begun.  The leading photo of this post shows some of the ‘Steamjunk’ raw goodies. Stay tuned over the coming months to see how Lucah transforms them.

One piece I’m really excited about is a Victorian ‘Fat Jiggler’. You know–the shaking machine with the belt which supposedly shimmies all your fat off… Well, I found one with a great trapezoidal cabinet design. The belt has been removed. With a little tweaking, tuning up the motor, and the addition of some metal arms and implements–Lucah will have its first automaton maid.