Originally published at LonPrater.com. You can comment here or there.

Tonight I finished the first draft of The Whisperer in the Willows, an unholy mashup of Kenneth Grahame’s The Wind in the Willows and H.P. Lovecraft’s Arkham in the near future.  Rat and Mole are replaced by Nat and Cole, a homeless man and his slightly learning disabled protege.  Badger is now Rodger, an academic with something to hide.  Joad (nee Toad) is no longer obsessed with fast cars, but rather dark secrets and eldritch mysteries.  All around them, the world is grinding to a halt as the reign of man creaks to an end and the Great Old Ones struggle their way into the world.

Throughout the book, Grahame’s values of home, friendship and kindness are put to far worse tests than his simple river gentlefolk ever dreamed of, and some of them even manage to hold firm to their life and sanity!

It weighs in at 238 pages, or approx. 60K words.  A short novel, then, but a novel nonetheless.

::sighs contentedly::

It’s really weird, what with the concept, and hanging on to Grahame’s style, tone and theme. Probably too weird to be salable, except to those who get a large charge out of Lovecraftiana.  But damn it was fun.  Well, off to a couple of first readers.  If anyone out there is a big fan of HPL and would like to take a gander at it, I’d of course be happy to return the favor.

Now for a couple weeks gloriously OFF.  Time with the kids and visiting family I’ve not seen in too long.  Some video games, reading, amusement parks and camping are in store, no doubt. Then I’ll be ready to edit my industrial fantasy fix-up novella “Dirt: A New Promise Concerto” and of course begin primary research for my next novel project, which I probably won’t start actually writing till fall.

Somewhere in there I need to work on marketing my stuff.  No one can accept or reject what never leaves my hard drive.  Time to get those shiftless stories out and earning their own keep!

Originally published at LonPrater.com. You can comment here or there.

Slept in today, or what passes for sleeping in. (Since when is 10:30 the latest I can sleep, anyway?)

Went for a walk in one of Dayton’s “metroparks”.  Nice trails, one of the surprising up-sides of an area virtually falling apart from the inside.  Some city planner, while otherwise asleep at the switch, made sure to set aside plenty of tracts of well-wooded greenspace.  They aren’t as free of car-noise and such as the place I liked to go in Connecticut, but I suppose they’ll do.

After, I found a peaceful spot near the Mad River (where else to write about Rat, Mole and Toad’s homeless Arkham analogs?) and knocked out 8 more pages to end chapter 11.  This brings the whole she-bang to 222 pages. Pretty much on track with the source material.  One last chapter is all that remains.  Whereas in The Wind in the Willows, the last chapter was “XII. The Return of Ulysses”, in this version it is a bit more obviously Lovecraftian:  ”XII. The Return of Nyarlathotep”.  Hoping to knock it out over the next few evenings.  No more writing today though, unless I get a strong second wind.  38 pages in 3 days is pushing it for me!

Some folks have been doing a First Lines memes lately.  In that spirit, here’s the opening paragraph of The Whisperer in the Willows:

I. THE RIVER BANK

Cole had been working very hard all the morning, camping in his online world collecting enchanted weapons to sell. First the swords, then the muskets; then on to daggers and staves and arrows, with his barbarian and a Glaive of Lifeloss; till he had dust in his throat and bleary eyes, an aching back and weary arms, and was very, very close to pissing all over himself. But the global depression meant no one was buying virtual toys with actual money, it penetrated every bank account and dark and lowly household with its spirit of fearful privation and languor. It was small wonder then that he suddenly shoved his ergonomic chair away from an expiring laptop, said some choice expletives and also “I’m done with this!” and bolted out of the apartment without even bothering to snatch up the past due notices that hung upon his door. The Moroccan neighbor shouted at him imperiously, and Cole made for the steep little stairs that led out of the ramshackle building and into the sun and air. At the bottom of the stairs he unblocked and unlatched and unbolted the front door, working busily and muttering to himself, “It’s over! I’m ended!” till at last, pop! He burst out into the sunlight, and he found himself blinking in the dank warmth of Arkham.

Originally published at LonPrater.com. You can comment here or there.

I’m not much of a daily writer.  Sometimes, I go a month or more without actually making new words on the page.  I have more of a binge and purge muse.  She is always on the job, stirring the pot, but when it comes to making new copy, she only works in fits and starts.  I think and plan and mulch my subconscious, even outline on occasion, and edit a lot. Then when the urge to write is there AND I have a large block of time to do it in, I sit down and write.  Usually, if I have a couple hours, I can drop anywhere from 8-16 pages.  This is why writers’ retreats (formal and self-created) can be so productive for me.

For a long time I kicked myself for not being one of the BIC2000 (Butt-in-Chair, 2000 words a day).  But over time I realized I’m not doing too bad, all things considered.  I have periods each year where I do write every day.  The single biggest thing I’ve noticed that keeps me from writing is the guilt feeling that I should be writing (new fiction, specifically) every day or else I’m just not doing it right. Over time, I’ve come to the realization that for me, writing whatever the hell I want (rather than something contracted) getting an average of a page a day over the year is pretty good.  Probably the best I can aim for, so long as I keep a dayjob and some kind of family and social life.  In previous years, I’ve only managed about 50-60,000 words a year, with an occasional blip around that lofty goal of 90K.

But I just looked at my stats, given it’s midyear and all.  So far, all is well.  193 pages (in SMF) of new copy logged, plus 1 salable poem.  Seeing’s how June isn’t over and the year not quite at half-done, I’m actually a bit ahead of my 1 page per day average.  Not bad, considering I’ve only had 16 actual writing days this year.  Average day is 12 pages.

Most of it on the unholy mashup novel, but some on a new short story from start to finish and yet more to finish an older short story.  Also, an older, unfinished novel (or novella, I think)  got some of my attention at the beginning of the year.  I think it’s this transition over the past couple years from short stories to novels and longer works that makes me kind of crazy.  The feeling that I rarely finish anything equates in my brain to the feeling that I’m not actually accomplishing anything.

I know this isn’t true, but typing END on those two short stories sure did feel good.

The place I’m sucking more and more these days is marketing stuff.  I have a back log of inventory which is tended by an equally binge-and-purge clerk.  Every couple of months I try to get religion and put those stories out there into the wild and make them fend for themselves.  

 My daytime work involves significant editing (a big honking textbook) so I ought to be counting at least some fraction of that  as “writing” work I get paid for.  I guess all in all, I’m not doing too bad. Plenty of room for improvement, but not enough room to wind up and kick myself.

Much.

Originally published at LonPrater.com. You can comment here or there.

Just after Sunset by Stephen King. (audio) Listened to this on audiobook recently. Brilliantly produced and cast.  I think “N.” was my favorite story of the book.  Naturally, it was the  modernized take on traditional horror that drew me in:  Lovecraftian/Machenian themes and plot delivered obliquely through a series of letters, news articles, and stories nestled within conversations nestled within stories.  The gist of the horror:  Spontaneous OCD as a response to (and defense against) otherworldly terrors attempting to break through into our plane of existence.  But it’s far better than that weak synopsis, Trust me.

Also, this collection highlighted for me a lesson I’m occasionally  delighted to relearn.  A hallmark of satisfying fiction, a trait ceded wrongly and often to the exclusive care of  the “literary/mainstream” style, is that it makes the characters’ inner landscape and the events that transpire there seem as real as the outer one.  It emphasizes what is happening inside the POV’s head, and in such a way as to endow the reader with a sense of verisimilitude of the subjective alongside that of the fictionalized “objective” world of the story.   Things happen inside the character, not just out there in the world.

Makes sense to me, at least.  Especially as regards to Horror and Weird fiction.  Because Inside is where the  horror and weird are really happening, anyway!

I wonder if I’d have arrived at this renewed realization from reading the book alone, or if to some degree the challenge of writing so much omniscient viewpoint for UHM, with a focus on tone and theme, has brought this into sharper relief.

Originally published at LonPrater.com. You can comment here or there.

Working in Huntsville, AL for a few days.  Had an awesome Cajun dinner with a writing friend (Crawfish etoufee, fried okra, green bean casserole, and lots of Shiner Hef to wash it down.)

On the plane down here—-I hate Delta.  Their chairs are not made for people with shoulders and every time I fly them I end up with pinched muscles in my back from trying to collapse my shoulder blades into Delta’s We Hate People(TM) brand chairs—-Ahem.  Let’s try that again without the rant. Heh.

On the plane down here I finished reading The Devil’s Marionette by Maurice Broaddus.  A Shroud publication with an attractive layout and showcasing an absolutely gorgeous piece of cover art from Steven C. Gilberts (who also did the cover for Frontier Cthulhu and upcoming(?) Tales Out of Miskatonic University) .  The story itself started slowly for me; it took until the second chapter before I felt I had become 100% engaged.  I think this is because in Ch 1, we are meeting so many people, and so much is happening in the story’s infrastructure:  thematic planks are being nailed in place, rifles being hung over the mantles, that sort of thing.  But long about Chapter 2, this thing really took off for me.  The vasty middle of this story rings with so much authenticity to vaudeville, to Hollywood and the comedy “industry”, and probably most important–with emotional authenticity.  There are sections in here where I felt the sense of rage and injustice heaped upon these disparate black actors in an inimical white world as if they were my own.  While the end veers a bit into familiar horror territory, it dovetails nicely with what has gone before it.  Overall, this was a surprisingly engaging, heartfelt story that truly transported me as a reader–not just to another place and time, but into another view of the world.

Also on the plane, I managed to hammer out a little bit more on unholy mashup novel, to the tune of some peculiarly affecting music.  Not long ago, I mentioned renting the original B/W Dracula and it having as a bonus feature the Philip Glass/Kronos Quartet original movie score.  Loved it, wanted to find it.  Forgot about it.  So imagine my surprise when I found a copy of the CD in my library’s collection!  This is a wonderful, wonderful piece of music for writing to, or just thinking to.  Evocative strings and drama in every phrase–without ever tipping over into melodrama.  Highly recommended.  (Are you paying attention, realthog ?  Here’s a link just for you, with clips)

Originally published at LonPrater.com. You can comment here or there.

Hoping internet connectivity lasts long enough to throw a post up here about what I’ve recently finished reading, while it’s fresh in my mind. 

ESCAPEMENT by Jay Lake.  One of the things I like most about Jay’s novels that I’ve read is that they are about Ideas as much as they are about Characters and Important Plot Events.  Trial of Flowers held at its core The Dangers of Concentrated Power; Mainspring made significant hay over Free Will and the responsibilities concomitant with Destiny.  Escapement follows Mainspring and moves the discussion of Ideas forward by considering the interaction between that free will and authority–the intersection point of self-direction, personal responsibility and deference to whichever of the sundry authorities in the world want to sway and define you.  Paolina struggles against sexist definitions of herself and the world’s right to make them.  Only she of allthe characters can sense the heartbeat of the world, but to learn more she seeks out other “wizards” ie men of England who also understand science.  The men who aid her all have their own authority issues to deal with, even Boaz, the brass man who can’t quite come to feel himself a person of self-directed soul, despite numerous efforts by others to give him one.  Boaz’s story is metaphorically significant, I think: he is a mechanical man.  One who should be the most satisified with the lack of a soul, with his Authority giving him the brush-off despite years of rigid, vain obedience to a command long ago forgotten.

Childress deals with the assumption of authority in her plotline, its usefulness and necessity. Her tale, apart from showing us a lot more of the Mainspring world, the avebianco and their competitors in intrigue, provides a look at willingness of people to submit to any authority strong enough to claim the name; it’s a tacit, docile population she lives among–much like ours–and those who claim authority must struggle as she does to retain their conscience and awareness of the impact of their uses of authority upon the lives of others; not to treat those others as mere tools instead of people.  (Her opposite numbers in the Silent Order suffer a thematically fitting resolution, after unapologetically attempting to make a tool of Paolina.)

Al-Wazir yearns at first to return to his old position of authority, a much earthier, might-and-experience makes right sort of authority that anyone who’s ever known a senior non-commissioned officer worth his salt would not find unfamiliar. Over the course of Escapement, Al-Wazir is canny and steadfast, picking his battles, marshalling the influence of both his size and force of will.  He gives the perfect counterpoint to Paolina (rejects nearly all forms of authority over her out of hand) and Childress (assumes an authority she did not want yet learns to apply in the name of her own moral code).  Al-Wazir’s counterpoint? He is the man who follows orders, gets the job done as best he can staying within the lines of good order and discipline as much as he’s able, but unafraid to stray in the name of getting the job–as he sees it–done.  I like this evenhanded literary discussion.  Jay doesn’t vilify the man who simply follows orders–he shows the value and morality of such men.

So I got a lot of enjoyment out of Escapement.  For me, the only problems I came across as a reader were relatively minor.  Towards the end, I somehow lost the thread of what Al-Wazir and Boaz’s motivation was and where exactly it was leading them.  Similar problem of unclear goals in the case of Childress’s motivation for being against any sort of going over the wall; this last seemed to be deliberately hidden from the reader.  She tells us the Southern Earth is a dark and magical place and that allowing the traffic between the two sides of the equator to come and go easily (by Golden Bridge, secret tunnel, or otherwise) would be, um, _bad_. We get a narrative transition where we know she is stating her case off camera about how bad it is, etc.  I wanted to know her reasons in specific for being so against it.  She’s a smart lady, very well read… and yet no one in this world really knows what lies on the other side; not really.  Given the evidence of the story, the best “reason” I can come up with for her position is a disappointingly doctrinaire and closed-minded fear of the revered unknown–not so different from some modern positions on stem cell research. I hope her reason was a good one, or at least better than what it seemed like to me–and I’m willing to just go with it given how well controlled the rest of the story was, how suited the plot was to the theme in all other regards.  Maybe we’ll find out the details of  Mask Childress’s reasoning in Tourbillion.  Or maybe we’ll get to see for ourselves what lies beyond the wall once more.  I’ll be there when it comes out.  This story-world has me hooked.

THE TROUBLE BEGINS AT 8: A LIFE OF MARK TWAIN IN THE WILD, WILD WEST by Sid Fleischman.  A breezy, amusing read, and a gorgeous bit of book design.  Twain’s exaggerated life in humorous summary. The author did a bio on Houdini that I may just look for one day, given how infotaining this one turned out to be.  Checked it out from the library, but wouldn’t mind getting a copy for my own shelf.

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In the midst of my job, also getting some writing done on Unholy Mashup Novel.  Slower progress than I’d hoped, but progress is progress. 

Originally published at LonPrater.com. You can comment here or there.

* The latest issue of Apex Magazine just went online, with my story “Head Music” reprinted within. My story is in fantastic company: Look for stories by Secret History of Moscow author Ekaterina Sedia, the always enchanting Theodora Goss, and of course the usual slew of infortaining articles on horror/SF and such. Available free on the website, or in very affordable ebook formats, if you’d rather get your fix that way. I’ve read and enjoyed Apex for quite a while, so it feels like something of an accomplishment to finally be an “insider”!

* About to be far from regular, reliable internet access for a while. If you send me email or post a comment any time after Friday, my response will probably be slowish. Through the rest of March. By the end of the month, I should be unburying myself from whatever’s piled up. I should have some kind of internet, but I have no way of knowing how much/how often till I get there. I can’t broadcast here where I’m going for safety reasons. It should be okay to post a pic or two and some light travelogue on my return.

* Haven’t been reading so voraciously this month. Been busy as heck. Time with the kids, Time preparing for work commitments in the schoolhouse, Time preparing for this work commitment in the field. But like Sheldon on The Big Bang Theory, I did of course make Time for one last trip to the comic book store before my travel. Which added a measure of pure delight to an otherwise stinktacular night of poker. (Guess what? There is a hand that can beat a King high flush… Who knew?!) But the comic book store here in Fairborn (The Bookery, which rules) was still open–that’s how early Shelley and I got beat out of poker–and the final issue of Dark Horse’s Solomon Kane was in. A solid, splendid adaptation that built 5 issues from an unfinished REH fragment. As great as the finale was, there was even better news in the letters column at the end: June 2009 they are releasing a collection of all the old black and white Solomon Kane comics from the ’70s. (!!!) And later in the year, color collections of all the SK stuff done in color in the ’70s and ’80s. Formative stuff for me, so I’m stoked. I know they are only doing it to capitalize on the Solomon Kane boom they expect to come with the movie. But I’m okay with that. Just give the fan what he wants and no one gets hurt, see?

* Listened to a “playaway” collection of Mark Twain. Some well known stuff, like the Jumping Frog story and his scathing review of The Deerslayer. But some other pieces I hadn’t come across before, like Cannibalism in the Cars, where that sly dog Twain once again mocks Congress as only he could get away with, plus amusing pieces on the problem of getting a watch repaired, burglar alarms, the buying and selling of echoes, and travails along the way to getting the government to pay their bills. Read with spirit and warmth by Thomas Becker.

* Books going with me on my trip: Jay Lake’s Escapement (my bedside book, for what little reading time I’ve had this month), Lamentations by Ken Scholes, The Trouble Begins At 8: A Life of Mark Twain in the Wild, Wild West by Sid Flieschman. Probably more–I’ll have a crapload of airplane time to kill. While I’m at it, I’ll probably take over the latest collection of genrezines and so on and pass them along to folks otherwise starved for small press fantasticness.

* Besides working and reading, I’d like to get Unholy Mashup Novel finished while I’m there. It’s doable, I think. I need to get it done because Novel the Next is already wrapping its little claws around my neck….

Originally published at LonPrater.com. You can comment here or there.

1) From an Amazon UK reader review of Abominations that made me grin perversely:

“Starvelito” by Lon Prater is a sick cousin of “The Monkey Treatment ” from George R R Martins “Songs the Dead Men Sing”

2) Ken Scholes’ Lamentations is on the streets today.  After poker (once again, the last one to fall before they went to the final table–I’m cursed!)  my sweetie took me to the bookstore.  Not many debut novels get me to shell out hardcover money*, but Ken… I know he’s good for it.  This is going to be my traveling book next month.

3) Writing happens.  After muddling about with a novella for a bit that wasn’t much in the mood to be written, I finished a lingering short story, wrote another one, AND got totally buzzed when the final piece clicked into place for a short story that’s been marinating in my backbrain about two years.  The “glory” of not having a novel contract is that I can write whatever I feel like with no deadlines to worry about**.  Especially since aforementioned short story has suddenly declared itself as my next novel.  For purposes of the blog, it’ll be hereafter dubbed Unholy Mashup Novel.  Till I finish it, anyway.

4) Got to see my kids for the long weekend.  Aside from probably overdoing it with the fun events and unfortunately catching a flu bug of some sort–which now I’m catching too–they helped me name a character in Unholy Mashup Novel.

5) After a challenging bit of editing to rope it in to my current standards, I’ve been informed that Triangulation: Dark Glass wants to buy the revised and updated version of “Deadglass”.  Look for it in the spring.

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* F. Paul Wilson’s Repairman Jack, George R.R. Martin’s Ice & Fire, and Jay Lake’s Mainspring series are the others I know I’d spring for in hardcover.

** Oh, those poor dears with novel contracts… how do they ever manage?