First of all, I want to assure you that I have been very good this year.  Really.  I’ve done A LOT of writing; I’ve put my butt in my chair just about every day.  (My butt’s actually a little flat and wide at this point for all the writing I’ve done.  But that’s probably more than you wanted to know.)  I’ve met my deadlines.  I’ve dutifully posted at my various blogs.  I’ve read a bunch, done a ton of research, and tried my best to keep my website up to date.  Oh, and I’ve been nice to my wife and kids and friends.  Just ask them.  Well, maybe don’t ask my teenager, but go ahead and talk to the others.

So, since I’ve been so good, I thought you might like to see my gift list.  It’s not too long.  Well, okay, it’s a little long.  But what do you expect?  I’m a novelist.  You want pithy, go to a short story writer.

Just kidding.  A bit of humor there for you.  You like humor, don’t you?  If not, I apologize.

Maybe I should get to my list….

First of all, I’d like a bestseller.  Which is not to say that I want you to give me a book that is a bestseller.  Not that I have anything against bestsellers.  They’re great.  I’m sure the authors who write them are very happy.  It’s just that, well, what I really want is for my next book to BE a bestseller.  Can you do that?  I mean, I’m sure you can do it.  You’re Santa, after all.  But it would be nice if you did that for me.

I’d also like a movie contract for one of my books.  Or several.  All would be great.  But that’s probably asking a lot.  Why don’t we start with one?

Nice reviews would be, well, nice.  I understand that we’re in a tricky area here.  I’m kind of asking you to bend people’s opinions, which might not be kosher.  (It doesn’t offend you when I use the word “kosher,” does it?  I hope not.)  Let’s do it this way:  if you could be really nice to the people who give me good reviews, and give broken glass and rusty nails to the people who crap on my books, that would be great.  (It doesn’t offend you when I use the word “crap,” does it….?)

Also, do you know Oprah?

There are also a few things I want that can actually be put under a tree.

Like a Hugo, a Nebula, and a World Fantasy Award.  I don’t need all three in one year (though that would be really cool!) but I would like to get started on a collection of shiny new hardware.

I should ask for other stuff, too, shouldn’t I?  I mean it’s not all about ego and money, is it?  It’s also about material goods.

I would love a new laptop.  A mac.  One of those really, really thin ones that’s lightning fast and wicked cool looking and mega-expensive.  I need it for work.  Seriously.

I’m also wondering about a new muse.  Not that I don’t like my old muse.  But she is getting a little long in the tooth, as they say, and I’m interested in writing some different stories and books this year, so I thought that a new muse might be in order.  I don’t know if that’s something your elves can make, or if one needs to be captured.  We might be getting into another of those tricky areas.  I’ll leave the muse thing to you; you know best.

And that’s all!  See, I told you it wasn’t too long.  It’s not like I’m being greedy or anything.  Thanks, Santa!

Best,

David

PS.  What do I REALLY want for the holidays this year?  Love and laughter, health and happiness; great successes in the coming year for my colleagues here at SFNovelists (and, yes, for me, too); story and book sales for the aspiring writers among our devoted readers; and peace, joy, and freedom for all the people of the world.  May all of you have a merry holiday!

David B. Coe
http://DavidBCoe.livejournal.com
http://www.DavidBCoe.com

Modes of Connecting with a Story

How do we experience stories in everyday life? One of two ways:

1. We remember or imagine experiencing something ourselves
2. Another person tells us a story, often about something he or she experienced firsthand

So when do we enjoy these everyday stories? Either when we get a vivid mental experience of being there—when we live out the story inside our heads and viscerally feel what’s going on—or when we connect with the storyteller so well that we just want to keep listening to him or her talk.

In other words, there are two basic ways we get engaged by stories: either through an empathic connection with a character as (s)he experiences images and events, or else by listening happily because we like hanging out with the storyteller. Let’s call these possibilities character-based and storyteller-based engagement.

(There are other ways to get things out of a story. For example, you might be trying to learn something, or you might be listening so you can criticize the storyteller afterward. For now, I want to talk about ways you might truly enjoy a story.)

Usually, I don’t like “either-or” distinctions—my kneejerk reflex is to say, “Why not both?”—but in this case, I believe there really is a dichotomy. If you “embody” yourself in the story, you basically ignore the storyteller (unless he or she messes up and breaks the mood). On the other hand, if your relationship is with the storyteller, the story’s actual content isn’t paramount, it’s just the topic of an enjoyable conversation. During the course of a story, you may flip back and forth between modes (sometimes deep into the story, sometimes more fixed on the teller), but at any given moment, I think readers are in one mode or the other.

Connection Modes and Viewpoint

What does this have to do with the craft of writing? Writers want readers to be engaged by their stories. To achieve that engagement, either you have to make your readers identify with a character in the story (at least to some extent), or else you have to hook them with the way you tell the story:

• Identifying with a character means getting into that character’s thoughts and sensations. For the reader to do this, the writer has to present the story exactly as that character would experience it. When describing a scene, the writer must only report what that character would notice, and how he or she would react in response. You can switch between characters, generally at breaks between sections or chapters. However, if you deviate from your current character’s viewpoint (e.g. by throwing in some observation that wouldn’t actually cross the character’s mind), you jar your readers out of their connection with the story. It’s exactly like seeing a theatre actor slip out of character—the semblance of reality gets ruined and you’re reminded that you’re seeing a show.
• Getting hooked by a storyteller means being caught up in the performance. A perfect example is listening to a good comedian: you’re captured by the choice of words, the tone of voice, the timing. You’re also captured by the comedian’s stage presence—a persona constructed to grab your attention. After a comedy act, you remember the persona more vividly than any specific gag-line. It’s the same if you’ve ever listened to a professional storyteller; you may not remember much of the story’s content, but you clearly recall the storyteller’s charisma.

So that’s where I’m coming from when I think about viewpoint. Notice that I haven’t even mentioned “first person” vs. “third person,” even though that’s the usual way that people categorize viewpoints. For me, it’s more important to understand who the reader will connect with: with the characters in the story, or with a storyteller who stands outside.

Either possibility can use “first person” or “third person.” For example, outside storytellers are often associated with “third person omniscient” viewpoint. However, consider the Marlowe detective stories by Raymond Chandler, the Harry Dresden books by Jim Butcher, or the Laundry series by Charles Stross. These are all narrated in the first person by the central character of the books, but the narrator’s voice has an ironic detachment that separates the character-as-narrator from the character-as-character. I like to read the Laundry books because the narrator is funny and has a colorful way with words. With that voice, the content doesn’t much matter—I could listen to that narrator, umm, read a laundry list.

Similarly, character-based stories can be told “first person” or “third person.” The viewpoint most commonly used in modern fiction is surely “third person limited,” where the prose is written in the third person (“Chris looked out the window at the bleak unfriendly streets”) but the tone is entirely dictated by the viewpoint character’s perceptions. (The streets are described as “bleak” and “unfriendly” because that’s how Chris feels about them; someone else might well see these streets differently.)

Not Done Yet

This posting has gone on long enough, but I have tons more to say about viewpoint—as far as I’m concerned, it’s the key to writing good fiction. A humdrum plot won’t kill a book, but poor handling of viewpoint will. Furthermore, a great many story problems are actually viewpoint problems: fix the viewpoint, and the problems go away.

So next time we’ll return to viewpoint and a more detailed discussion of the related skills. In the meantime, people who want a good grounding in viewpoint should check out Steering the Craft by Ursula K. Le Guin. It contains lots and lots about the craft of writing, but in particular, it shows the same scene written from many different viewpoints, demonstrating just how much of a difference viewpoint makes. Enjoy!

M: “Psst Kelly, I’ve got a question.”
K :”Go ‘way.”
M: “No, really, there’s something I’ve been wondering about.”
K: “No, really, go ‘way.”
M: “You know that bit right at the end….”
K: “Sleeping here.”
M: “Yeah, I heard you the first time. Still gonna ask my question.”
K: “So ask, then go ‘way.”
M: “Right, so that bit at the end where you introduce the thing and that other thing that fixes the first thing.” (Redacted for spoilers)
K: “Yes.”
M: “Well, I can’t help but noticing that the way things are structured now you really do introduce them right at the end even though they’re really important. Do you think that’s such a good idea?”
K: “Sure. I’ve been planning it since I wrote chapter 6. Yes, I introduce them late, but the one solves the other, so it’s not like I’m just pulling a rabbit out of my hat to solve a problem.”
M: “No, more like you’re pulling a carrot out of your sleeve to feed the starving rabbit that just came out of the hat. You’re okay with that?”
K: (waking up more) “Shouldn’t I be?”
M: “I’m sure it’ll be fine. You just go back to sleep.”
K: “All right then.” (Pulls covers over head, just like when there are bats in the room)
M: “Oh, I almost forgot….”
K: Pokes head out again. “What!”
M: “That character you introduce in chapter 8, the one who’s going to be really important in book 2?”
K: “Yes.”
M: “Well, since the character’s familiar is going to be really important at some point don’t you think you should introduce a place to put it?”
K: “Go ‘way!”
M: “Sleep tight.”
K: “I will, thanks. Now to get back to…Oh hell.”

Stupid Muse.

And that’s why at 6:20 this AM I got up and scrawled a note on a post-it note that said:
LIBRARY
RIVER
THINGXXXXXX (redacted for spoilers)
and stuck it to my cell phone. No, I don’t know why I put it there either. I was mostly asleep.

And then, when Laura woke up a couple of minutes later and headed off to do things, I asked her to add EXSANGUINATION TABLE to the note stuck to my cell phone and pulled the covers back over my head. Laura, having lived with a writer for 20+ plus years, just asked where the phone was and let me go back to sleep, which I did. Wonderful lady I’m married to.

Now, I don’t really believe in the Muse as an external force so much as I think of it as a collection of story processing techniques that my brain uses at a level below the conscious, often while I’m dreaming, and all of which make my job enormously less difficult. The sense of structure is really the latest major upgrade to the system, having come along in the middle of my tenth novel. So, it’s the one I rely on the least (I can plot perfectly well without it, thank you very much), which is why I didn’t notice its absence until it returned. But, like all the other bits of Muse I’ve built over the years, I know that when it does show up I’d damn well better listen.

So, I’ll just leave you with this:

LIBRARY
RIVER
THINGXXXXXX
EXSANGUINATION TABLE

And ask you what questions your Muse asks you at ridiculous hours of the night and morning.

—————————————-

Previously posted at the Wyrdsmiths blog

Met a knight-at-arms, alone and palely loitering. Ated him. Ated pretty lady he kept whining about too. Hard and cold on the outside, but soft and warm on the inside. Yummy!Thinking of lounging on my hoard today. Dragons are supposed to do that sometimes, aren’t they? And Nap + Sparklys = Win!

Was thinking about gardening, heard you could grow your own food from cuttings, but cat says it doesn’t work with knights.

A man with a skinny bendy sword came to the cave. He said he was more nimble than armor-knights and he would slay me easily. When he poked me, skinny sword broke on skin. I ated him.

Saw the pointy-face horse again today. Still looks delicious. Want! Maybe cat is wrong about obsession being unhealthy…

Just realized that pointy-face horse is kind of Sparkly… Sparkly! Sparkly! Sparkly!

Sadness. Sticking fake horn on normal horse doesn’t make it sparkly. Doesn’t improve flavor either. Ated horse anyway.

Very long day. Ated 2 knights, 5 squires, 3 pages, 2 horses, and a quintain. Ated 11 bystanders and a set of bleachers too. Maybe overdid it a bit. Tired now. Zzzzzz

Have decided to ated pointy-face horse. Am thinking of buying D.R.A.C.M.E. rocket-propelled unicorn net for job. Thoughts?

Stupid cat vetoed DRACME rocket-propelled unicorn net as “dangerously silly.” Am thinking about alternate plans. Suggestions?

Considering opening bring your own fire restaurant for dragons, calling it Hot Knight Out.

Have acquired the perfect bait for catching pointy-face horse. It will be mine. Oh yes, it will be mine. And I will ated it.

Need cat-sized princess dress, plus fairie wings and very small strap-on golden unicorn horn. No reason.

Dress never showed up, am going to have to paint cat to look like a virgin-unicorn-fairy-princ

ess-bait for pointy-face horse.

Needed to get large nose-shaped bandage this morning. Had to tell clerk, “No I don’t want to talk about it.” And then, “Bugger off.” When that didn’t work, I ated him.

Perhaps looking at pointy-face horse problem wrong. I’m a dragon, it’s a variety of lunch. I just need to pounce and ated it. Keep things simple.

Ateding pointy-face horse much less fun than wanting to ated it. Tasted like burnt rainbows and soggy glitter. Also, is being very hard to digest.

Rainbows! Oh. My. Dragon. God! Rainbows are coming out of my butt! Stinky rainbows! Stinky! Stinky! Stinky! This is soooo not Sparkly!

OMDG! The rainbow is bubbling and boiling. Something is rising out of it! This is seriously not Sparkly!

Hate stupid pointy-face horse. Has risen from the rainbow-ashes of my lunch like horror-show phoenix…only with horn on head.

Stomach still upset from stupid pointy face horse. Slept the day away, but now up to plot my revenge!

Have been nominated for Enchanted Forest Board of Governors by shoe elf. Ated elf, but did it too late. Already on ballot.
May have to ated polling station.

Cat talked me out of ateding polling station, says ateding should be reserved for actual polti…polict…polst…elected people.

Still not happy about this whole politics thing, but cat is starting to convince me. Says I should see it as Enchanted Forest (Smorgas)Board of Governors and to think of public service aspects of ateding widely among forest dwellers ruling class.

Dwarf from Enchanted Forest builders association came by with voter guide poll. Also offered gold to help with my campaign if they liked my answers on question about new development projects. I ated him.

Cat says I did it wrong, you’re supposed to take the bribe _before_ eating the bagman. I say it’ll all come out in the end. Either way, I get Sparklys.

Ated a potential constituent today. Gnome came to cave. Thoughted he was trying to sell garden services. Bad election strategy, but he was delicious. Does that make it all right?

Gremlins brought me new iPhone that they “liberated” as a propitiatiary gift. Sparkly, till it rang—phone company, with bill. So I ated phone, also ated gremlins.

Taking a break from the political thing, went knight hunting. Ated one sushi style and hung the rest in the smokehouse.

Woke up to cave full of owls. Like fluffy who’s who convention. Ated them. Went back to sleep. Stupid owls.

Am entertaining job offer from Fafnir, Fafnir, Tiamat & Lung, dragons at law. They tell me it’s mostly just about ateding opposing counsel. Mmmm, lawyers.

Still not sure about this dragons at law thing. Like the idea of hourly billing for ateding enemy lawyers, but less up on whole actually becoming a lawyer thing. Would rather not have to extend professional courtesy to sharks and barracudas in off hours–they’re too nomable.

Ordered the Jumbo Book of Unicorn Recipes—prepared properly they’re supposed to _stay_ digested. Cool bonus, comes with list of puffer-fish side dish preparations. The blackened unicorn with fugu etouffee, looks especially yummy. What could go wrong?

My Jumbo Book of Unicorn Recipes has arrived. It’s published by DRACME so it must be good. Totally gonna pwn that pointy-face horse.

For an explanation of how this got started, the original Dragon Diaries SFN post is here. The second DD post is here. To find out where it goes, you can watch the experiment continue on twitter and facebook for however long it continues. Hope y’all enjoy it.

I find it inspiring, really.  In fact, I’ve decided to model my career path after I.M.’s accomplishment.  You often hear people say that though they’ve never written anything in their lives, they feel as though “they have a novel inside them,” and they’re just looking for the opportunity to write it.  That’s probably what I.M. was saying too, before signing that contract.  Well, I feel the same way.  Not about writing books, mind you.  I’ve already proven that I have a book or two in me.  No, I’m thinking about something else.

See, I’ve always thought that I have a thoracic surgery inside me.  I mean, I’m not trained in thoracic medicine or anything like that.  Who has the time and money for med school?  But I’ve had a thorax all my life, and I’ve always felt that it was one of the more important parts of my body.  Plus, I know people who have had that kind of surgery, and I know people who have performed it.  And none of them is any smarter than I am.  Well, okay, maybe one of the patients was.  But still, I’m pretty smart, and I carve a mean turkey.  And so, you know, I’ve thought that maybe, if the time was right and I could get a few months away from writing, that I could fit in a surgery or two.

Thoracic surgery isn’t my only unfulfilled passion, though.  Not even close.  Two words:  Space Travel!  Who among us hasn’t thought of being an astronaut?!  I grew up during the age of Apollo moon missions, I followed the unmanned exploratory missions to Mars and Jupiter with avid interest, and, like all Americans, I cowered in a bunker waiting for Skylab to land on my head.  Again and again, I’ve thought to myself “I have a space mission inside me.”  What?  Training?  No way!  Do you know how much math you have study?  And I have no doubt that those spinning things that they make astronauts do would have me tossing my cookies in no time.  But that’s okay.  I’m really passionate about it, and I have some great ideas of things I could do once I reached Romulus.  Yeah, if the time is right, and I can get a few months away from writing, I’m definitely going on a space mission.

Look, I can go on, but I won’t.  I think you take my point. There seems to be this assumption out there that anyone can write a novel.  And maybe I’m the one deluding myself into thinking that not everyone can.  But the fact remains that writing is hard.  It takes training and practice and dedication, and I find it infuriating when celebrity dilettantes convince not only themselves, but also major publishing houses that they deserve hundreds of thousands of dollars to write the novel that “they’ve always had inside them.” Especially when those same publishing houses are squeezing the rest of us for every dime and every royalty percentage point they can.

I have no business flying to Mars or performing thoracic surgery; I.M. Notariter shouldn’t be writing fantasy and science fiction.  Just my opinion.

Tried cat’s suggestion about flying with my mind. What’s the sound of one mind flapping? It’s “Aieeee—thud.” Stupid cat.

Rainy day. No flying. Ated a knight, two squires, four horses and a page. Napping now. Zzzzzzzz.

Said to cat “If cat so smart/ let cat fly with mind. What the sound of one cat flapping? “Buzzzip, buzzip—we can fly, we just don’t.” Stupid cat.

Cat says if I bring home big fishies, cat will teach me to fly with my mind. Still think it would be easier to just use wings.

Woke up hungry from flying attempts. Ated princess. Better than mime, but not as good as knight. Need to find new knight bait.

Monk came by to talk about evils of ateding thinking beings. Lots to ponder there. BTW, monk tastes better than knight.

Brought cat fishes to teach me flying. Said I had to put my mind in opposition to the ground. Still not flying. Stupid cat.

Okay, maybe cat not so stupid after all. Mind in opposition to ground plus flapping wings really hard is working. Flew after a feathered serpent and ated it.

BTW, flying snake tastes …like chicken…. Only more feathers to get caught in your teeth. Ptui.

Hungry, check. Want sparklys, check. Need a new princess, check. Flying, check. Time to find a castle. Cat agrees. Sparklys!

Found a pretty castle full of happy singing people. Tried to ated them, but they were plastic. Ptui. Cat says: Stupid Disney.

Tried another castle. Downside, everyone ran away so I only ated 2 knights. Upside, they left their sparklys. Yay sparklys!

Sparkly! Sparkly! Sparkly! Sparkly gold and sparkly silver. Sparkly jewelry and sparkly gems Sparkly! Sparkly! Sparkly! Whee!

Not sure why, but cat’s been muttering about dragon-nip and attention span since we brought the sparklys home. Silly ca—Ooh…Sparkly! Sparkly Sparkly!

Cat says that gold doesn’t exist until you count it. One-two-three-Sparkly. No. One-two-three-Sparkly. Damn it! One-two-three-Spa-argh! Stupid cat.

Five-hundred-and-twen-spar

kly. Argh! OK, that’s it, going to ated the stupid cat… And…sigh, nope. Still tastes like friend. Sorry cat.

Tasted cat again this morning. Same result as last two time. Couldn’t ated something that tastes like friend. Off to find Baron now. Cat says they’re like knights, but with more marbling. Have high hopes.

Found Baron hiding in castle smokehouse and ated him. Now know Cat was right, Baron good. Also now know bacon better! Bacon!

Bacon! Bacon! Bacon! Cat said: Bacon, baron, tomayto, tomahto. I replied: Screw the tomatoes and the lettuce! Bacon! Bacon! Bacon!

Stoking up my tummy with shiny black rocks and mesquite chips for experiment in smoking fresh caught barons. Hard not to ated them now!

Minuses: Owe cat apology-fishes for near perforation. Ambushed by sheriff and troop of archers today. Pluses: Tasty tasty archers.

Saw horse with horn on face, tried to ated it. Now covered in sticky rainbow and cat laughing at me. Stupid cat. Stupid pointy-face horse.

And for the Unicorn’s point of view: Went out for my morning glitter to make the flowers blossom and the sun shine just right. But a big mean dragon attacked me. So I farted a rainbow in his face and escaped. Stupid dragon.
Stupid dragon! Had to glitter twice as hard to open all the flowers from yesterday too. Off to beautician for kornacure and a hoof-peel now. Think I’ll try that new pink polish. Love the way the old horn looks in pink.

Saw pointy-face horse again. Cat suggested hunt to learn habit first, ated later. Followed to beauty shop. Took next chair. Now have pink claws, argh! Pink. Claws. !?! Stupid beauty shop. Stupid pointy face horse. Stupid cat.

Paid extra to have permanent epoxy mixed into nail polish they put on stupid dragon. Hee! Off to bestow my glorious presence on life.

Had to burn nail-polish off with fire-breath. Ignoring pointy-face horse in future, no matter how very very tasty it looks. Really!
Ate a big meal of sugar and spice and everything nice. She was delicious. Then made some more rainbows. (Seriously, what did you think that whole maiden thing was about?)
Coldwetmiserable out. Wanted to sleep in but too hungry. Tasted cat again. Still tastes like friend. Also just not enough there to bother ateding. Agreed to go get fishes. Wet anyway plus felt guilty.

Saw pointy-face horse again. Still looked delicious, but I promised cat to ignore it. Found knight instead. Ated him, but only for horse. Do I have a problem?

Bumped into pointy-face horse while casually lurking in forest near beauty shop. Did not ated for cat’s sake. Also, pointy-face horse is fast!

Thought I saw the stupid dragon. Laid down a cloud of rainbows and bolted. Off to shimmer in the wabe. It’s glitter-time, Baby!

Couldn’t figure out why I can’t stop thinking about ateding pointy-face horse till cat said unicorn sparkly. Sparkly! Sparkly! Sparkly! Then cat sighed.

Sparkly! Sparkly! Sparkly! Want sparkly! Sparkly gold! Sparkly gems! Sparkly jewelry! Less sure about sparkly pointy-face.

Was going to hunt sparklys but rolled on back to scratch wings and cat curled up on chest and started purring. Can’t move now. Cat sleeping. Shhh.

Saw four matched white mares pulling a rich merchant’s coach. Pretty things. If only they had horns…

Ated merchant and took his sparklys. Ated his horses too. All white like pointy-face. Pretty things. If only they had horns…

Hatched today. A nice man was waiting for me with harness and food. He wanted to be my friend. I said yes. Then I ated him.

Alternatively. I am a pretty gold dragon. I hatched today. Girl was waiting. Told her my name was Henth. Then I ated her.

I went to the barn. There were many animals. I ated them. Except the cat. I only tasted the cat. I did not ated it. Good cat.

After I finished ating the barn animals I brought the cat in to sleep on my pillow. We will dream of fishies and ated them.

Met a knight today. He tried to poke me with sharp stick. I didn’t let him. I did not ated him. How do you shuck a knight?

Got note from great aunt Kayath about knights. Came with churchkey. Opened knight and ated him. Prefer fresh to tinned meat.

Am going looking for a princess. Have heard they make great ateding. Will bring cat for company.

No princess yet I did find several walruses. I ated them, but they weren’t very good. Cat says we should find fishes.

Made cat sack from walrus. Cat didn’t seem very appreciative. Saw, gnomes? Yes, gnomes—a six pack. Ated them. Gnom gnom gnom.

Saw a knight on a horse but couldn’t catch it. Hungry. Tasted cat again this morning just in case. Still not going to ated it

Found large pile of oily black rock. Ated it. Belched fire for six hours. Bad heartburn. Yet, have strange craving for more.

I don’t get what the big deal is about dragons and gold. I mean sure its all…sparkly. But that doesn’t…really sparkly. Spar—

Sparkly! Sparkly! Sparkly!

Sparkly! Sparkly! Sparkly! What’s that kitty? I said that already? Really? Sorry…deep breaths. In, out, in, out…sparkly?

Cat points out that there is no gold here. Sigh. Maybe later. In the meantime, ated mime. Worse heartburn than black rock.

Not sure about ateding mimes. Too much gas later—silent but deadly. On the other claw, it’s one box they’ll never get out of.

Found princess and have set her out front as knight-bait. No more mime-indigestion. Thinking of collecting shields. Sparkly.

Princess is working. Have landed first knight and ated him. I was hungry so just roasted. Will think about a glaze next time.

Mellow day, slow-roasted knight with garlic at joints. Cat says it’s my best effort yet. Ated a couple of goblins too.

Found 5 gold coins in knight’s saddlebags and put them on pillow. Sparkly! Sparkly! Sparkly! Going to bed now.

Stayed in bed today. Cat says it was so I could look at SPARKLY gold on pillow. I say I’z just tired. Oh, and I ated a troll.

Troll left me feeling a need to clean out the digestive system. Ate more black rock. Flaming troll belches…yech. Still, fire!

Having trouble sleeping because my back was very itchy. Asked cat to scratch it and shed some skin. Turns out I have wings!

Updated:

So far wings do not equal flying. Wings equal falling less fast. On the upside, landed on a gryphon and ated it. Most yummy!

Still not flying. I hope these wings aren’t just decorative. I like being pretty as much as the next dragon, but want to fly! How else am I going to ated more gryphons? Or hippogryphs? Oh, and I want to try Roc too. Cat says birdies are ated heaven.

Cat says that dragons don’t really fly with their wings, they fly with their minds. Confused. How do you flap your mind?

Updated:  Dragon Diaries 2 and DD 3

That’s all so far but they’ve been well enough received that I imagine I will continue posting them on twitter and facebook, and who knows, they may become a chapbook at some point.

*I spent the last part of March flat on my back with a nuclear grade stomach virus that put me in the emergency room early on. There was morphine and intravenous fluids and anti-emetics and all kinds of fun. I was too sick to even read for about twelve days. However, I wasn’t too sick for boredom. That meant that I spent a good bit of time staring at the ceiling in dire need of entertainment. To fill the void my brain started scripting out the very silly little bits of dragon diary here.

Censorship – The suppression of speech, generally by the government or others with authority.  China’s ongoing efforts to arrest and silence those who speak out against the government is an example of censorship.  Getting banned from someone’s blog for being an unrepentant asshole?  Not censorship.  Any questions?

DRM – Digital Rights Management.  The most awful thing in the world.  DRM is the biggest obstacle to the success of e-books.

Freedom of Speech – Your right to express your thoughts and opinions.  This right is not unlimited.  For example, calling Publish America a scam could potentially lead to a libel suit.  (See here for more discussion.)  Therefore, when talking about Publish America, use the alternate term “doodyheads.”

George R. R. Martin – Not your bitch.

House Style- I like the word “leapt.”  My publisher prefers “leaped.”  Guess who wins.

Movie Deal – The very first thing your friends and coworkers will ask about when you sell your novel.

Page Proofs - 1. Your chance as an author to review the typeset pages of your book and correct any typos.  2. Your chance as an author to discover all of those larger changes you’ll wish you’d made before, but now it’s too damn late.

Piracy – Illegal posting of copyrighted books.  The most awful thing in the world.  Piracy is the biggest obstacle to the success of e-books.

Research- 1. See Google.  2. See Wikipedia.  3. Go to the library and do it right, you lazy bastard!

Self-Promotion- Blogging, attending conventions, arranging booksignings, handing out bookmarks, and any other activity intended to give the writers the illusion that they have the slightest control over their sales.

Self-Publishing – The writer is responsible for all aspects of the publishing process.  Writer controls and pays for production, retains all rights, and keeps all profits.

Self-Publishing Myths – Exaggerations, distortions, and outright lies used by companies hoping to separate eager young writers from their money.  (See here for examples.)

Writer Guidelines – An I.Q. test.  You’d be amazed how often people flunk.

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*It’s just a joke.  My agent is awesome, and I love him.  Please don’t dump me, Joshua!

Until now.

Warning: If you’re easily offended or a time traveller from 1950s Eastbourne, step away from this screen now! But if you’d like to know more and help me choose a book cover then keep reading.

For years I’ve been trying to write a funny CSI with magic story. I’ve written several outlines and attempted several stories … but they all lacked that spark that turns a passable story into something memorable.

Cue the two-foot long penis. Why not have my detective wake up one morning and find he’s suddenly over-endowed in the trouser department? Naturally this would be a penis used purely for the purposes God intended – humour and crimefighting – not for lustful titillation.

But…

I’m a person whose characters rarely discuss matters below the waist. Could I really write something like this – even in a fun way? Would anyone read it?

I started plotting and the more I plotted the funnier the story became. I had mystery, I had magic and … I had a detective with an enormous complication.

A quick note before anyone thinks I’ve written a thirteen thousand word long penis joke. I haven’t. Like Jeffrey Deaver’s paraplegic detective, Lincoln Rhyme, my detective’s condition, though central to the plot, isn’t the plot. He has a locked room mystery to solve.

Okay, I’d written the story, now, I had to sell it. But there are only one or two traditional outlets for a 13k urban fantasy with or without a floor-length penis. How about selling it myself direct? As an ebook. After all, eReaders were on the verge of making the crossover from niche gadget to mainstream product. And I’d just joined the Book View Cafe author co-op so I could pick their brains about the best way to proceed.

So I found out all about ebook formats and ebook creator software like Calibre and MobiCreator and … the fact that I’d need a book cover.

This proved to be my biggest problem. My first idea was to spoof the archetypal urban fantasy cover – rear view of hot woman in tight jeans cut low enough to show the obligatory tramp stamp. I’d do the male equivalent with something large coiling around his left leg – inside his jeans, of course. I was going for bulge not porn.

Not having a budget or Fabio’s home number I decided I’d have to model for the picture myself. I wriggled into my tightest, most elastic pair of jeans. I stuffed a vacuum hosepipe down my trouser leg…

Too weird. I tried rolled up towels, stuffed socks. I had several pictures taken.

None were ideal but I mailed the best I had to Lori, one of my BVC author colleagues who had PhotoShop. Now mailing a picture of yourself with several large socks stuffed down your jeans is not the usual way to become acquainted with a fellow author. Neither is beginning your email with, ‘I am not a perv.’

But what choice did I have? I didn’t have PhotoShop and I needed a dark urban background for my cover and cool fonts for the book title.

The title? Well, see if you can guess. My psychic profiler had a twenty-four inch penis and his partner was called Tulsa. Gene Pitney would not have approved.

Lori added a background and title text to the cover and sent it back. That’s when I began to have second thoughts. The cover was turning out nothing like I’d pictured it in my head. It wasn’t Lori’s fault. Neither of us were artists and we were having to cobble together a cover from our own photos and public domain work.

I sent the cover to a handful of writer friends for a second opinion. Remember what I said about sending out pictures of yourself with socks stuffed down your trousers? Add the title ‘Twenty-Four Inches from Tulsa,’ a liberal spattering of the word penis in the text and you’re on the road to spam block hell.

But Jim Hines and Jennifer Stevenson were gracious enough to respond and confirmed my fears. I had a cover that neither said spoof, nor fantasy, nor fun nor magic. If it did say anything it said porn. Self-pubbed porn.

But their comments make me think … and analyse what I’d written. I was writing a funny CSI with magic tale with a hint of 1950s seaside postcard humour – risqué in places but essentially innocent. I could magine an embarrassed Colin Firth playing the lead in the movie version.

And with that epiphany came a name – not Colin Firth but Donald McGill. Donald McGill was the seaside postcard artist. He sold over 6 million and was a national institution. So, I Googled his images and couldn’t believe my luck. There it was. The ideal cover. It was eye-catching. It said fun, it said tongue-in-cheek, it said … ‘giant penis.’

So, I licensed the copyright and here it is. One of the most famous postcards in British history. A postcard that, coupled with the caption ‘Stick of rock, cock,’ caused such apoplexy in 1950s Britain that the artist was charged with obscenity, fined £75 and ordered to burn every postcard. The borough of Eastbourne even banned him from ever setting foot in their town.

With the artwork purchased, it was time to look at the title. The cover said monster penis, so the title didn’t have to. It had to say something about magic and crime. I toyed with CSI: New Magic but then settled for Magical Crimes. It described the tale and it was the name of the unit my psychic profiler and forensic magician worked for.

Now all I need is to settle on the look of the title. I used the colour of the sea for my name and thought I’d use the red of the rock for the title but an all red title was difficult to read against the darker blue in the top right. So I experimented with fading it. What do you think? Do you prefer the even fade from red to light pink or the redder version? Or is the red-orange-yellow version the best? Or plain black?

*Update* I’ve added a dark blue and a contoured yellow sand  

I can’t decide and would like to throw this open for comments.

Magical Crimes will be coming to an online bookstore near you in early January. Price $0.99. Free download available for reviewers.

I basically decided that selling “Blade of the Bunny” was nice and all, but now it was time to settle down and start writing real stories.  I still remember how excited I got the first time one of my stories made someone in my writing group cry.  This was writing!  I did it again with another story a while later, earning even more tears the second time around.  Go me!

I know I’m not alone in this.  Humor just doesn’t have the power of “real literature.”  Most of us appreciate a bit of silly escapism from time to time, but we certainly don’t take humor seriously.  When it comes time for award nominations and best of the year lists and anthologies, it’s rather unusual to see many humorous works make the cut.

I look back at that phase in my writing development, and I wonder when I learned it was more important to make people cry than it was to make them laugh.  That tears were the higher form of writing.  It took me years to get over that.  To decide I want to create laughter, and to hell with the rest.

Both grief and joy are important of course, and good stories use both.  But I feel like we often emphasize the serious at the expense of the silly.  Laughter is powerful stuff, and the world needs more of it.

To that end, I’ve begun a list of humorous SF/F works published in 2009.  I would love to see one or more of these stories make it onto the Nebula list for consideration, but more importantly, it’s a chance to share the books and stories that have made us laugh.  If you’re looking for a fun read, or if you have a suggestion for the list, please check it out:

http://www.jimchines.com/humor-2009/

My name’s Jim.  I write about bunny daggers and nose-picking goblins and muppet werewolves.  I’m damn proud of those stories, but it took me a long time to get there.

Where does it comes from, this sense of art that devalues the humorous?  Is it the perception that comedy is easy?  A lingering puritan sense that humor and frivolity are to be shunned?  Or maybe it’s that grown-ups are supposed to be serious, and giggle fits are for children?  What do you think?