Caleb J Ross's Would You Rather

Bored with the same old fashioned author interviews you see all around the blogosphere? Well, TNBBC's newest series is a fun, new, literary spin on the ole Would You Rather game. Get to know the authors we love to read in ways no other interviewer has. I've asked them to pick sides against the same 20 odd bookish scenarios. And just to spice it up a bit, each author gets to ask their own Would You Rather question to the author who appears after them....

Caleb J Ross's

Would You Rather

1.      Would you rather write an entire book with your feet or with your tongue?

I’ve got freakishly long toes, so for the sake probability and completion, I’ll say feet. However, the concept of a tongue-written book intrigues me, in a literal reflection of the metaphorical kind of way. Writing in tongues (re: thoughts to words) becomes literally writing in tongues. Plus, it would be nice to incorporate another sense into the writing process. We rely so much on touch.

2.      Would you rather have one giant bestseller or a long string of moderate sellers?

Probably the long string of moderate sellers. That way I never feel like I’m trying to regain something, trying to fit into an expectation.

I suppose my choice could be determined by whether or not I knew ahead of time that I was only going to have one giant bestseller vs. a string of moderate sellers. Could I choose the bestseller? Would it be possible then for me to consciously create a The Tale of Scrotie McBoogerballs situation, forcing the world to love my most depraved work? If so, definitely the one giant bestseller. It would be about a flatus monster trying to find its way back to the anus. Kind of like Wizard of Oz if Toto was a dingle berry.

3.      Would you rather be a well known author now or be considered a literary genius after you’re dead?

Definitely well know now. Once I’m dead, I’m dead. It’s the same logic that I use when telling my family that I just want to be cremated and thrown in the trash when I die. I don’t care how beautiful my gravestone is. Put that money toward something better.

4.      Would you rather write a book without using conjunctions or have every sentence of your book begin with one?

Without conjunctions. It would still be possible to create a compelling narrative without them. Think of it this way: there are only a handful of conjunctions, but there are infinite ways to not use them.

However, this is just the kind of experimental goal I set for myself when I write, so writing an entire book in which every sentence started with a conjunction could be fun. How I write now, I often set a goal to create a good story based off a terrible premise. For example, in my newest novella, As a Machine and Parts (just recently re-released) the premise involves a man who slowly and inexplicably turns into a machine. That’s a stupid concept. But if I’m a good writer, I should be able to make the narrative compelling enough that the reader forgets how stupid the concept is. Other examples: a man who collects human lips. A woman who tries to get her mentally challenged son kidnapped. By the end of a Caleb J. Ross story I want the reader to have been so invested in the characters that he/she forgets all the stupid stuff surrounding the characters.

So, maybe writing a compelling all-conjunction book is a good test. And a masochistic treat. But without the physical pain. Or perhaps with lots of it.

5.      Would you rather have every word of your favorite novel tattooed on your skin or always playing as an audio in the background for the rest of your life?

The tattoo option. Because the audio option is ever-present, it would basically be an aural tattoo of sorts, meaning just as permanent, except I wouldn’t be able to cover it up with clothes. Also, if nobody else could hear the audio, I’d probably eventually get committed to a padded room. On the plus side, I’d have my favorite audio book with me.

All of this really depends on whether or not Bobcat Goldthwait is the audiobook narrator, with secondary characters voiced by Gilbert Gottfried. If so, then obviously I’m going with the audio version.

6.      Would you rather write a book you truly believe in and have no one read it or write a crappy book that compromises everything you believe in and have it become an overnight success?

The problem with having a successful anything that you don’t truly believe in is that from that point forward you’ll dread having to deliver the same kind of content. That would be its own kind of hell in a way. Let me write crap, I say!

7.      Would you rather write a plot twist you hated or write a character you hated?

I can deal with a shitty plot twist; that happens only once. But enduring an entire novel full of crappy characters, even one with an amazing plot twist, would be awful. Not just for the readers, but for me as well.

8.      Would you rather use your skin as paper or your blood as ink?

Oh, can I choose both? There’s an artist, Vincent Castiglia, who uses his blog in his paintings, so that option seems acceptable enough. The skin paper thing seems pretty close to traditional tattooing. Put them together and, well, the blood just goes back into the body and dissipates. Kinda anti-climactic, now that I fully explore that thought. Sorry to have wasted your time.

9.      Would you rather become a character in your novel or have your characters escape the page and reenact the novel in real life?

As long as I didn’t have to be a part of the real-life reenactment, I’d choose to let the characters escape. I have some crazy stuff going on in my novels.

10.  Would you rather write without using punctuation and capitalization or without using words that contained the letter E?

Definitely without punctuation and capitalization. Back at the dawn of the English language, punctuation, capitalization, even spelling and grammar were largely un-regimented. So, knowing it was possible to get the message across back then, I’m sure it would be possible now. Writing without the letter E would be much more difficult. One of my favorite novels ever, Ella Minnow Peaby Mark Dunn, explores this idea, though I think in that novel Dunn chooses to first get rid of easier, non-vowels before he touches on the letter E.

11.  Would you rather have schools teach your book or ban your book?

Either way is great for the wallet. Taking that out of the equation, I’d go with having schools teach my book. Any book can get banned, but not any book can be taught. Plus, it’s an honor to have a book be taught (re: validated) by a college. All having a book banned really means is that you’ve struck a nerve with a small, although loud, sub-cultur. Having a book banned would come with its type of validation, though, I suppose.

12.  Would you rather be forced to listen to Ayn Rand bloviate for an hour or be hit on by an angry Dylan Thomas?

Getting hit on my Dylan Thomas would be quicker, so I’ll go that route.

13.  Would you rather be reduced to speaking only in haiku or be capable of only writing in haiku?

Speaking. I communicate so much more via writing, whether via email, fiction, blog posts, shopping lists, and on and on. I could probably get away with not having to speak (I think it’s funny that rather than entertain the idea of speaking in haiku, I instead decide that not speaking at all is a better choice…I think that speaks more to my laziness than to my hatred of haiku).

14.  Would you rather be stuck on an island with only the 50 Shades Series or a series in a language you couldn’t read?

Ethically speaking, I wouldn’t be able to read the 50 Shades series so honestly it probably doesn’t matter which one I choose. So I’ll go with whichever has more pages. I’ll need them to start a fire.

15.  Would you rather critics rip your book apart publically or never talk about it at all?

Publically. The general public (who make up the majority of book readers) don’t pay attention to critics anyway. Remember, no critic ever praised 50 Shades of Gray or Twilight. Then again, I wouldn’t want to have written either of those series.

16.  Would you rather have everything you think automatically appear on your Twitter feed or have a voice in your head narrate your every move?

As long as that voice in my head sounds like Tom Waits I’d definitely go for the voice in my head.

17.  Would you rather give up your computer or pens and paper?

I could never turn my back on ol’ Compy. If the choice had to be made I’d unfortunately have to give a big FU to paper. Sorry Dunder Mifflin.

18.  Would you rather write an entire novel standing on your tippy-toes or laying down flat on your back?

If I was on my back, the novel would take much, much longer. I have this weird issue where if I lay down I’ll generally fall asleep within 10 minutes (I think this “weird issue” I have is medically referred to as “being a lazy, unhealthy slob”). That being said, I’d still go for laying on my back, as long as I was allowed to build a rig first that would allow me to write while on my back. Something with cranes and pulleys would be nice.

19.  Would you rather read naked in front of a packed room or have no one show up to your reading?

For the sake of anyone who would be in attendance I would most definitely rather have no one show up. I’ve had readings at which only 5 or so people showed up, so having nobody show up really isn’t that much of a stretch.

20.  Would you rather read a book that is written poorly but has an excellent story, or read one with weak content but is written well?

I’ve read plenty of books that fall into both categories. Given a choice, I’d go for the one that is written well. I can be enamored with great language for much longer than I can be hooked on a strong plot lacking that great language.

And here's Caleb's response to A Lee Martinez's question:

Would you rather be able to write one (and only one) page of fiction a day (that could be part of a larger book eventually or just short stories or whatever) or only be able to write for one week a year?  In both cases, everything you write would be amazing.

Probably a full page of fiction every day, because that’s actually quite a bit more than my current non-Would-You-Rather scenario output. Most days I manage a couple hundred words. Writing a full page every day would actually be quite nice.

But the heart of the question, consistency vs. a single burst, the single burst would be nice. I’d like to be able to get my pages out and then have the rest of the time for marketing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Check back next week to see how Wayne Franklin answer's Caleb's question:

 Would you rather get drunk in a dive bar with J.K Rowling or attend a church service with Chuck Palahniuk?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caleb J Ross's fiction and nonfiction has appeared widely, both online and in print. He is the author ofCharactered Pieces: stories, Stranger Will: a novel, I Didn’t Mean to Be Kevin: a novel, Murmurs: Gathered Stories Vol. One, and As a Machine and Parts. He is an editor at Outsider Writers Collective and moderates The Velvet Podcast, which gathers writers for round table discussions on literature. 

Eat Like an Author: Les Plesko

When most people get bored, they eat. When I get bored, I brainstorm new series and features for the blog, and THEN eat. And not too long ago, as I was brainstorming and contemplating what I wanted to eat, I thought how cool it would be to have a mini-foodie series where authors share the things they like to eat. Photos and recipes and all. And so I asked them, and amazingly they responded, and I dubbed it EAT LIKE AN AUTHOR. 


Last week, Molly Gaudry shared her 6-meals-a-day. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today, Les Plesko talks about his love of canned veggies:

I like veggies straight from the can, served deliciously at room temperature or chilled by the fridge. These are Del Monte Mixed Vegetables + Del Monte Fresh Sliced Carrots. I also like the little potatoes in a can and sliced beets, though the liquor store usually doesn't have the latter. Perfect for someone who's too distracted to cook or even boil something and can't be bothered with cleaning up after. Actually, it's a big change from former nightly meals, which have been: bologna from the pack dipped in mustard or my desperation favorite: ketchup sandwiches! Usually I eat the same thing every night for forever until I can never stand to see or taste it again, so I suspect this particular meal will run its course eventually.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Les Plesko is the author of the novels The Last Bongo Sunset, Slow Lie Detector, and Who I Was. He teaches writing at UCLA Extension.

Indie Spotlight: Diane Mayer Christiansen

Every writer believes that they are in the process of penning the next best book. One that every publisher will jump over backwards for. One that they anticipate will land them on best seller lists everywhere.

Which is why, when the first few rejection letters start showing up, they think there must be some kind of mistake. The other publishers wouldn't pass the manuscript up, right?

It's a tough pill to swallow when the one thing you've spent countless hours pouring your heart and soul into receives a generic letter of rejection from publisher after publisher after.. well you catch my drift.

Diane Mayer Christiansen, author of the Snub Club, shares a few words of wisdom on just this very topic:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I began writing, I’ll admit, I was pretty innocent.  I thought, six months in to get the manuscript out, another month for rewrites and then I’d be ready to submit.  I was sure that when the first batch of thick, brown envelopes went into the mail box that it wouldn’t be long until I was getting all of those SASEs back with requests to read more.  The weeks passed, the months passed and I waited. 

I got the SASEs back but each with their own version of a mass produced rejection card, telling me that reviewing a manuscript is subjective and not to take it personally.  That was ten years ago and there have been many, many, manuscripts since. Yep, every writer’s been there.

So, here’s the trick.  You have to keep writing.  I know this may sound strange, but the game of getting published is all about the survival of the fittest.  Who will endure over time, who will continue to hone in on their craft?  For me, the game was easy to play.  I write about things that matter so much to me that I cannot stop.  I have a journey to share that involves my struggle with dyslexia, my son’s celebration of Autism Spectrum Disorder, and with this journey, a fire to help the world understand.  Every time I see my son’s face, I am inspired to continue. 

So, now when an aspiring author asks me for advice I tell them this.  Survive the barrage of rejection that is sure to happen.  Get a thick skin and believe in your work.  Write about what drives you on a daily basis and never give up.  Write because you love it, because you can’t stop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           

Diane Mayer Christiansen graduated with a Biology degree despite her struggles with dyslexia. She worked at both the University of Chicago and Northwestern University doing genetic research. Christiansen is now a published author writing young adult fantasy and middle school chapter books including SNUB Club.  Her characters are based around children with special needs such as dyslexia and Autism Spectrum Disorder. She speaks to parents and teachers about learning to celebrate those things that make our children different and her journey with her son and his ASD.

www.jackiejournal.com

Drew Reviews: John the Posthumous

John the Posthumous by Jason Schwartz
4 out of 5 Stars - Strongly Recommended
Pages: 148
Publisher: OR Books
Released: Aug 2013

Guest review by Drew Broussard 

The Short Version: Objects.  History.  Adultery.  Murder.  Death.  Bodies.  Animals.  A house - several houses.  Bible verses.  A beguiling maelstrom of language that circles around a story of a marriage and a murder without ever actually landing on it.

The Review: It's very rare that I find books like this a pleasurable reading experience.  Language is a wondrous thing but when I don't have something to tether it to - be it plot, characters, even just a concrete idea - I find that it becomes indulgent and unnecessary, a feat more of poetry than prose and (for my money) easily accomplished by monkeys on typewriters, as the ones who don't write Hamlet will undoubtedly write something like, say, There is No Year.

So imagine my delight and surprise to find myself breathlessly engaged with this novel - novella, really, as it's only about 130 pages.  Perhaps it has to be read in the right season, which I would argue is right this very minute.  Maybe I would've loved it even as the flowers started blooming in spring - but something tells me this is the right place to be.  For Jason Schwartz has written what is essentially a novella-length version of the American Horror Story credit sequence(s): unsettling, choppy, eerie... and yet strangely (and wonderfully) compelling.

The overwhelming majority of this book is comprised of odd images, shattered by other images or thoughts crossing through: a boy with a bird in his throat, a body turned into an object turned into a story, a house in semi-rural Pennsylvania (a land I know well, which also gave me an inside track to the novel in a way) that seems to shift under the reader's eye.  But it is not the house that shifts - you almost come to believe, over the course of the reading, that it is (to be really cliché about it) you who are shifting.  There is a tug to Schwartz's words that I cannot fully explain and it keeps you off balance, the story slipping away from you even as you try to grasp it.

And, admittedly, you do get some help from the back cover synopsis - which alerts you, in advance, to the fact that this is the story of one or possibly two murders.  The adultery and all that stuff seems pretty clear in the story but the murder is so much of an oblique idea throughout the large majority of the novel that you can never be sure that's what's being discussed... unless you are forewarned a bit that there was probably some murder goin' on.
Although this might also be part of the point: our narrator seems to be grappling with mental demons and perhaps the novel is his mind unraveling as he desperately tries to keep away from the thought of what he's done.  I don't know.  And I can't know - the novel does not tell you.  And while that so often, in pretentious novels like this, bothers me... it's just done so well here.  I wish I could hold this book up to authors who push at boundaries and say "if you're going to do it, fine - but you have to mine even deeper than traditional prose does, like this book."

Rating: 4 out of 5.  I had dreams last night that felt like flashes from this novel.   You absolutely have to pay attention to the words and allow your mind to detach with them a bit - but if you do, you're apt to be rewarded by an exceptional and unsettling mental vacation.  It's all muted browns and reds, mixed with crisp whites, like a vision of a girl standing in a wheat field as seen through an old warped window of an old warped house.  And even now, as I try to grasp at it more firmly, it slides away - like the best dreams and nightmares often do.

Drew Broussard reads, a lot. When not doing that, he's writing stories or playing music or acting or producing or coming up with other ways to make trouble.  He also has a day job at The Public Theater in New York City.

Happy Release Day: [SIC]

In addition to having taken on the part time Marketing Director position with CCLaP this year, I signed on with author and editor Davis Schneiderman to help with the promotion of a few of his titles. You may have seen mention of them in my twitter and Goodreads feed - & Now Awards 2 Anthology, Multifesto (both previously released) and [SIC]. 

Today celebrates the birth of [SIC] 

[SIC] is a completely appropriated work, readymade for a world populated and reduplicated by copies. It takes its title from the Latin abbreviation for “as written,” and includes public domain works, like “Cademon’s Hymn,” Sherlock Holmes, and the prologue to The Canterbury Tales, and features Wikipedia pages, intellectual property law, genetic codes, and other untoward appropriations. The text also pivots on Jorge Luis Borges’s story, “Pierre Menard, Author of Don Quixote,” taking its publication history through a replicated series of Google auto-translations. 

It's a commentary on plagiarism in its most up-front, unabashedly unapologetic form.  It speaks volumes about the accessibility of literature, the security of copyright, and the de-evolution of literature as we know it without actually saying a unique word of its own. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here's what early reviewers had to say about it:

Christopher Nosnibor (goodreads)

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/737854289 

“It’s a crash-course in literary history, a compilation of all the books you should read but probably haven’t… Schneiderman plays the game of appropriation and continues the debate concerning issues of ownership and authorship.”

Leo X (Goodreads)

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/739624000 

“Schneiderman is not only one to watch, he is one of the literary greats of our time!”

Bradley Milton (author)

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/702045370 

“Schneiderman's [SIC] is a feast for those hungry for reality and wanting more.”

Corey Mesler (author)

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/710557591

“Davis Schneiderman’s latest conceptual art book, [SIC]...is challenging, trippy, humorous, clever and, ultimately, just plain beautiful.”

Christina Gaspar (goodreads)

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/715412966

“it's a fascinating work.”

Shane Lindemeon (author)

http://www.shanelindemoen.org/4/post/2013/09/review-sic-by-davis-schneiderman.html

“..as a body of work, [Sic] can only be read in the same manner as one would read chicken bones. When you make your way through this hauntingly genius monstrosity, don’t be surprised with the weird places your mind will go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We are proud to host a Goodreads discussion with its author, Davis Schneiderman, this coming week to continue [SIC]'s celebration. Won't you join us and chat about the future of literature: public domain texts and the accessibility of literature, our fixation with digital and mutilmedia literature, and any other bookish topic you can think up!

https://www.goodreads.com/group/show/117183-tnbbc-presents-the-davis-schneiderman-q-a 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Davis's website got all fancied up for the occasion, too. Learn more about [SIC], its prequel Blank, and the upcoming third volume in the series, Ink., here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You can purchase [SIC] here.

If you would like a PDF review copy, please leave a comment here with the promise that you will link me back to the review once it's posted. I'd be more than happy to send you one!

Happy reading.

A. Lee Martinez's Would You Rather

Bored with the same old fashioned author interviews you see all around the blogosphere? Well, TNBBC's newest series is a fun, new, literary spin on the ole Would You Rather game. Get to know the authors we love to read in ways no other interviewer has. I've asked them to pick sides against the same 20 odd bookish scenarios. And just to spice it up a bit, each author gets to ask their own Would You Rather question to the author who appears after them....

A. Lee Martinez's

Would You Rather

Would you rather write an entire book with your feet or with your tongue?

Feet.  Both sound terrible, but I just think typing with my tongue would be more exhausting.  People can use their feet like hands, so I imagine by the end of the book, I'd be a pretty good toe typist, which might even come in handy later.  Though probably not.

Would you rather have one giant bestseller or a long string of moderate sellers?

Tough question.  Assuming you mean only one bestseller and no other successful books VERSUS a long, steady career, I guess I'd have to ask the follow up question of how big a bestseller?  Are we talking about the kind that basically means I'd never have to worry about writing for money again? Because I'd definitely take that over a long string of moderate sellers.  A lot less work that way, and it isn't like I'd have to stop writing afterward, even if not many people read the books.  I don't need a lot of fans to make it worthwhile.  Well, I DO need a lot of fans to make it worthwhile at this stage, but you get my drift.

Would you rather be a well known author now or be considered a literary genius after you’re dead?

Easy.  Well known now.  I've never found much romance in the idea of dying a misunderstood genius.  I don't need to be ahead of my time.  I'd rather earn a living now than starve.  Posterity, be damned.

Would you rather write a book without using conjunctions or have every sentence of your book begin with one?

Tough call.  I start a lot of my sentences with conjunctions already.  Either one seems pretty difficult to do without getting in the way of the reader enjoying the story, but I'd probably go with no conjunctions over every sentence.

Would you rather have every word of your favorite novel tattooed on your skin or always playing as an audio in the background for the rest of your life?

Audio.  I'm just not a tattoo kind of guy.  Plus, my favorite book is Tarzan of the Apes so I'd walk around hearing about lion fights, and that'd probably keep me in a good mood.

Would you rather write a book you truly believe in and have no one read it or write a crappy book that comprises everything you believe in and have it become an overnight success?

Ouch.  Honestly, not easy.  I guess it depends on what you mean by EVERYTHING.  If you mean writing something that I find morally objectionable, then I'd rather not do that.  But if you're just talking about a book that I felt was artistically compromised, I'd have to answer with a yes on that.  Basically, I've toiled for about a decade in this business writing stuff I think is really pretty awesome, but am still not as solid on my career as I might like (not that I have much reason to complain).  It'd be nice to get a boost.

So, moral compromising, hard no.  Artistic compromises, soft yes.

Would you rather write a plot twist you hated or write a character you hated?

Plot twist.  Both would annoy me, but at least the twist could just be part of the story versus the character (I assume the protagonist) who is the story.  Writing is hard enough as it is without having to hang out with a jerk for that many months of my life.

Would you rather use your skin as paper or your blood as ink?

Gruesome.  Blood as ink.  It's a lot easier to replace blood than it is skin.

Would you rather become a character in your novel or have your characters escape the page and reenact the novel in real life?

Tough call.  I suppose if I could become a seven foot tall indestructible robot detective in a weird science city, I just couldn't turn that down.

Would you rather write without using punctuation and capitalization or without using words that contained the letter E?

Both seem pretty rough, but though E is the most common letter in the English language, punctuation makes things so much easier.  Seriously, whoever invented the period and the space was a genius, and I'd be lost without them.

Would you rather have schools teach your book or ban your book?

Teach.  Nothing hard there.  I don't care to court controversy.  I'd rather people like my book than be offended by it.  Maybe I'm just not artistic enough to see the glamor in that.  Or maybe I'd just rather live in a world where people don't ban books.

Would you rather be forced to listen to Ayn Rand bloviate for an hour or be hit on by an angry Dylan Thomas?

The Ayn Rand hour.  I've listened to people lecture me I don't agree with before, and I'm sure I'll do so again.  But I'm not macho enough to usually take the punch option.

Would you rather be reduced to speaking only in haiku or be capable of only writing in haiku?

Speaking.  I earn my living writing, and I'd hate to get stuck in such a limited format.  Friends and family could learn to live with speaking like that though.  Heck, it might even make me seem more artistic.

Would you rather be stuck on an island with only the 50 Shades Series or a series in a language you couldn’t read?

I'd have to go with 50 Shades because books I can't read really aren't worth much. 

Would you rather critics rip your book apart publicly or never talk about it at all?

Rip it apart publicly.  Better to be savaged by critics than languish in obscurity.  I did that for long enough while struggling to become a published writer.

Would you rather have everything you think automatically appear on your Twitter feed or have a voice in your head narrate your every move?

Voice in my head.  I generally think good thoughts, but nobody could look good with EVERY thought put out there.  And the narrator of my life could maybe coordinate with the narrator of Tarzan of the Apes, so they wouldn't have to be lonely.

Would you rather give up your computer or pens and paper?

Hate to say it, but pen and paper.  Especially now that I even draw using an iPad.  So it'd be hard to give up all that convenience, especially since the rest of the world would quickly leave me behind.

Would you rather write an entire novel standing on your tippy-toes or laying down flat on your back?

Laying flat.  It would just be less exhausting.

Would you rather read naked in front of a packed room or have no one show up to your reading?

Naked in a packed room.  Have I mentioned that obscurity is just about the worst thing an artist suffers under?  Nudity is a lot less frightening to me than indifference.

Would you rather read a book that is written poorly but has an excellent story, or read one with weak content but is written well?

This is almost difficult to say, but, as I mentioned, I do love Tarzan of the Apes.  In fact, Edgar Rice Burroughs is my favorite writer, and while I wouldn't call him a poor writer, I would say he is stilted.  His stories are so much fun, his adventure so awesome, his pacing so thrilling, and his characters so cool, I would definitely say I'd rather have all that than beautiful prose.

And here's A. Lee's response to the question I proposed last week:

Would you rather write a novel that changes someone's life but receives no mainstream attention, or a novel that is incredibly successful in sales but that no one thinks about afterwards?

As much as I hate to admit it, I'd go for sales at this point.  It might seem crass, but I've been toiling in obscurity for a while now.  It gets tiring.  It's always nice to have money to pay the bills too.  Now, if the question were about changing the lives of thousands, I might reconsider.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Check back next week to see how Caleb J Ross answer's A Lee Martinez's question:

Would you rather be able to write one (and only one) page of fiction a day (that could be part of a larger book eventually or just short stories or whatever) or only be able to write for one week a year?  In both cases, everything you write would be amazing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A. Lee Martinez is a writer. He enjoys juggling, origimi, skulking, and time travel. While he’s a likable enough guy, he really isn’t very interesting and mostly plays video games and writes.

Eat Like an Author: Molly Gaudry

When most people get bored, they eat. When I get bored, I brainstorm new series and features for the blog, and THEN eat. And not too long ago, as I was brainstorming and contemplating what I wanted to eat, I thought how cool it would be to have a mini-foodie series where authors share the things they like to eat. Photos and recipes and all. And so I asked them, and amazingly they responded, and I dubbed it EAT LIKE AN AUTHOR. 


Last week, Bradley J Milton shared his secret love of Chex Mix. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today, Molly Gaudry gives us her daily rundown:

Under doctor’s orders, I’m supposed to eat 6 small meals a day.

I used to be a lot better at it, but I just moved across the country in August, to a totally different climate, and it’s been so hot here that it’s nearly impossible to even fathom the idea of cooking. Still, as the weeks wear on, I’m trying again to make a more decent effort.

The day always begins at sunup with coffee and water. I lovemy little Mr. Coffee hot plate/mug warmer. It is the best thing.

Breakfast, at 10 am, when I’m smart about it, is a blueberry, banana, yogurt, and protein smoothie. This one doesn’t have kale, which I usually like to add, but I also usually buy kale to cook with. Kale’s not on the grocery list these days. Did I mention it’s too hot to turn on the stove? I like to sometimes add a cucumber or an apple, but not today apparently.

My first snack around noon is usually a Cliff bar and a banana on the go.

Lunch, around 2 pm, is pre-grilled chicken strips from Trader Joe’s, eggplant hummus, naan, and coconut water. Yes yes yes.

Snack 2, around 4 pm, is whatever veggies I’ve got that are a day or two from starting to maybe be questionable. Here we have some tiny little sweet peppers, cucumber, tomatoes, and a topping of pine nuts, pumpkin seeds, walnuts, and flaxseed.

Dinner, not to be eaten after 6 pm, has lately been either already cooked Teriyaki turkey burgers or already grilled salmon from Whole Foods. Under the salmon here is Whole Foods’ amazing grilled green beans, and a mix of stuff from their salad bar: peas, corn, spicy kale salad, beets, carrots, cucumber, and another handful of that nuts and seeds mix. The protein shake was OK, but too expensive for just OK.

  

Dessert, sometime before bed, is more often than not my old friend Haagen-Dazs, but I really need to be eating more fruit. When I’m doing things right, dessert should look more like this—fresh fruit topped with yogurt, topped with nuts and seeds. 

But then of course, there’s this thing, which is basically the best thing ever.

And that’s it. My days in meals. . . .

I used to resent it, living on a timer, eating on a tightly regimented schedule. But I have to admit I do feel better, healthier than I’ve ever been. My nutrition levels don’t spike or dip. My moods and energy levels stay pretty even. My brain is better for it. My metabolism is better for it. And maybe, who knows, my writing might be better for it, too. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In 2011, Molly Gaudry was shortlisted for the PEN/Joyce Osterweil Award for Poetry, and her verse novel, We Take Me Apart, was named 2nd finalist for the Asian American Literary Award for Poetry. In 2012, YesYes Books released the 3-author volume Frequencies, which includes her short fiction collection "Lost July." In 2013, The Cupboard will release "Wild Thing," a collection of essays and poems, and in 2014 Ampersand Books is slated to reprint an expanded, revised edition of We Take Me Apart in anticipation of the release of its prequel Remember Us and its sequel The Uncertainty & Madness of Desire. Molly is a core faculty member of the Yale Writers' Conference and is the Creative Director at The Lit Pub. Find her on Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, or Goodreads. 

Indie Spotlight: C.G. Bauer's SCARS ON THE FACE OF GOD

Back in 2010, I reviewed C.G. Bauer's Scars on the Face of God, a book I had longed to read and, when I finally got my hands on it, really enjoyed. It's this slow, chilling southern-gothic tale of a town with some nasty secrets to hide and it really blew me away. 

This morning's spotlight features an excerpt from the book, provided by C.G. as a promotional peek, because starting today through Halloween night, Scars is free to download on amazon.  Take it from me, if you haven't read it yet, now is the perfect opportunity to score a copy for your kindle!

Excerpt from SCARS ON THE FACE OF GOD: THE DEVIL’S BIBLE. The novel is set mostly in 1964. The protagonist storyteller is Wump Hozer, a 65-year-old church custodian. An orphan, he never made it out of the sixth grade. “Wump” of course is a nickname. It comes from the sound a crowbar makes when it hits a man’s head. Here is Wump giving us some backstory. --- Chris Bauer

A grudge in the hands of the rich and powerful is a terrible thing. Grudges in the hands of their hired help are no less terrible, but with fewer ways to satisfy them they for sure have a longer life.

            The year was 1935, and a skin rash that started on my right wrist and moved north onto my arm and chest was what finally made me leave the tannery. This and Viola’s second miscarriage, plus one confrontation I’d had with Mister-Fucking-Laughing-Pile-of-Shit-College-Boy Hughie Volkheimer soon afterwards, him a freshly minted graduate who his old man had made into a tannery supervisor, and me ten years older, just trying to make a living. Leaving the tannery was the best thing I could have done for myself. Best thing for Hughie, too, otherwise I might have killed him.

            “You there,” he’d called to me on that last day, his finger tapping the air like a hen pecking a barnyard, “Hozer. Hop on down next to that bin, grab a shovel and start loading up that truck’s payload. We’re short back here today.”

            Me and him were the only two people on the tannery loading dock. I was dumping parts of a cow carcass into an open metal box, which was riling up the flies inside the box pretty good. It was then I seen that more than a day’s worth of waste was sitting under them buzzing flies, all mixed in with leaking cans of bleach-based cleaning solvent plus other used leather tanning chemicals. I wanted no part of what he was asking.

“I’m a tanner, not a cleanup guy,” I said, shaking my tilted wheelbarrow. A pesky piece of unidentifiable cow scrap refused to budge; I pushed it off with my hand. More buzzing flies. “Get Otto to do it,” I told him. Except I already knew what an extra day of cow parts sitting in the box meant: Today there weren’t no Otto.

            Out back of the tannery had been, and I expect still is, a half-buried lagoon of arsenic-based insecticides and tanning chemicals, plus hundreds of barrels of crud-eating machinery detergents and other tannery process by-products, including lead and chromium. The industrial revolution by way of the Three Bridges local tannery industry was doing its damnedest to revolutionize the few small foothills and one green valley on this back section of the Volkheimer property, a couple of hundred acres or so that weren’t more than a football field away from a creek feeding the Wissaquessing River. The creek bank had turned into dead space, starting from the pits where animal hides and hair and other slaughterhouse wastes lay rotting, then fanning out across acres of what had once been scrub pine akin to them barrens in New Jersey. It wasn’t like the Jersey Pine Barrens scenery ever actually looked good even though the earth was alive, but it for sure looked a whole lot better than the singed armpit of a spread hidden in the back of the tannery’s property.

            “Otto’s under the weather today,” Hughie said, “so I want you to do it.”

            Under the weather the prick called it. Christ, Otto had been wheezing for months, which weren’t no surprise considering the chemicals he inhaled. Weren’t but a few years earlier another kraut fella who handled the tannery’s waste, the one before Otto, showed up dead in the north woods, found first by the local wildlife then afterwards, what was left of him at least, by hunters. Cause of death, a Mauser shot to the temple, self-inflicted according to his note. The real cause of death, or what made him pull the trigger, was tumors all over his lungs. The man was all of thirty-eight years old.

            “Like I said, Hughie, it’s not my job.”

            “You’ll address me as Mr. Volkheimer, and your job is what I tell you it is, Hozer.” Hughie unfolded his arms and gave a gentleman’s tug to the bottom of his vest with both hands, liberating his chunky neck from a starched shirt collar. “Start loading that waste and those solvent cans in your wheelbarrow and get moving. You know where it goes.”

            The owner’s son was all Hughie amounted to, but this meant that compared to the rest of us, he shit lavender and roses. Still, I weren’t never one for ponying up to authority that hadn’t really earned it. “Sorry, Mister Volkheimer, but I won’t be doing that. I’m heading inside now to get back to work.”

            I turned my back on him and started off, expecting maybe I’d get a biting comment or two, but what came out of his mouth stopped me cold.

            “Do what I say now, Hozer, or I’ll have you sacked. Then you’ll wish for your wife to miscarry every time, since you won’t be able to support a family.”

            Hughie didn’t stay upright much long after that, and he was lucky to have come away with only a few fractured ribs and a sore jaw, and the gooey yellow contents of one of them open solvent cans stuffed down the pants of his vested management suit. It took three men to pull me off him that day, with the same three men escorting me out of that fucking tannery, me vowing never to return. I kept the vow for six years, right up to the day Otto’s wife asked me to collect her deceased husband’s work belongings. Cause of his death: tumors on his lungs.

Scars on the Face of God: The Devil's Bible can be purchased on Amazon: amzn.to/tV3K0g. C.G. Bauer can be found on facebook.