Thursday, October 31, 2013

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.

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

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. 


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

Christopher Nosnibor (goodreads)
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)
“Schneiderman is not only one to watch, he is one of the literary greats of our time!”

Bradley Milton (author)
“Schneiderman's [SIC] is a feast for those hungry for reality and wanting more.”

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

Christina Gaspar (goodreads)
“it's a fascinating work.”

Shane Lindemeon (author)
“..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.”

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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!



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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.


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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.



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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.
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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.

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

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. 



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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 love my 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. 

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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 TwitterFacebookPinterest, or Goodreads

Sunday, October 27, 2013

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/tV3K0gC.G. Bauer can be found on facebook

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Isaac Marion'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....



Isaac Marion's 
Would You Rather



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

Feet would be easier, but tongue would be sexier. I think people would rather read a book written by a tongue.


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

What happens to me after that giant bestseller that prevents further bestsellers? Do I die? Get addicted to drugs? Pull a Salinger? Do I try to climb Everest alone and lose my fingers and toes to frostbite and then try to write books with my tongue? More information is needed to make an informed decision. But I guess if those are the absolute options, a string of moderate sellers, because I don't want to be known my whole life for just one thing.


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

If I knew I’d be able to experience it in some way, I’d rather be considered a genius, but I have too little certainty about the afterlife to make any posthumous plans, so I’ll take the moderate regard right now, please.


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

I haven’t been in school for a long time...what are conjunctions again?


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?

Definitely the tattoo. The font would have to be so small that from a distance it would appear to be solid color over my entire body, so I’d look like some kind of blue-green monster man, and I could jump out of closets and scare people with literature.


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?

On the surface, this appears to be an easy one. Option number one, of course. But zoom out a little, and it’s a bit more complicated, because if I had a book that was an overnight success, it would give me enough clout to get other books published and marketed, and those ones wouldn’t have to be crappy, those ones could be complex and challenging and contribute positively to the collective unconscious. So, potentially, the crappy compromise book could be a means to a positive end that might never happen if I always insisted on doing things I wholeheartedly believed in. MORAL PARADOX.


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

I write characters I hate all the time. They’re usually the most fun to write.


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

Wow, this took a turn for the macabre. But, in essence, this question has the same outcome as the tattoo question, so once again, I choose to become a blue-green monster man.


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

Are you kidding? I love my characters. (Even the ones I hate.) I’d never damn them to the mundane desert of real life.


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

writing without punctuation and capitalization is fun it flows it feels good its like glossolalia i could do it all day but writing without that particular typographic symbol? No sir, that sounds most clumsy and painful and arbitrarily arduous.


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

I’d rather live in a world where books are not banned, no matter how controversial they may be.


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

Ayn Rand died in 1982, before portable music players were widely known, so I could probably put in some earbuds, tell her they are hearing aids so that I can listen to her even more attentively, and then bliss out to some Brian Eno ambient music on my iPod while she bloviates away.


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

I generally prefer writing to speaking, so please apply any required handicaps to my speech and leave my writing alone.


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 can't read the language 50 Shades is written in either, so both options are going to end up as campfire kindling.


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

I’ve already experienced being critically ignored, and it was pretty depressing. If critics are ripping me apart, at least that means I’m successful enough to merit attacks.


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

I definitely, definitely do not want my private thoughts escaping my head, so whatever option keeps them silent.


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

If I was writing these answers with a pen and paper, they would look like this.

Tongue.
Not sure.
Well known now.
Conjunctions?

And so on. I can’t write with pens. Don’t touch my laptop.


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

One is physically impossible, the other sounds pretty relaxing. Kind of a no-brainer.


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

Being naked in a packed room sounds like a scenario with a lot of potential...


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? 


Ugh, you saved the hardest question for last. I hate both kinds of books equally. It’s almost a precise 50/50 for me. I guess if I absolutely had to choose, I’d take the well-written weak story because even if it’s boring and pointless, at least I could learn something from the prose craft.


And here is Isaac's response to Jayme K's question from last week:

Would you rather be forced to kill off the main character’s pet or child when writing a novel?

This may be the first time I've said these words in this sequence: I'd much rather kill a child. Unless the pet is a major part of the story and integral to the character's personality, killing a pet usually feels like a cheap emotion-squeezing tactic. It's just way too easy.


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Issac deferred his additional question to me, so 
check back next week to see how A Lee Martinez answers:

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?
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Isaac Marion was born near Seattle in 1981 and has lived in and around that city ever since. Deciding to forgo college in favor of direct experience, he dived into writing while still in high school and self-published three terrible novels before finally hitting his stride with Warm Bodies, his first published work. He currently splits his time between writing in Seattle and hunting inspiration on cross-country RV trips.

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Eat Like an Author: Bradley J Milton

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, Lavinia Ludlow showed off her sugar snacks.


Today, Bradley J Milton gets his chex on:



Rice and Corn Chex


Writing is hard work. Needs energy. In this way it is just like Programming. Both at the Computer. So when I am Writing or Programming, I need something to give me energy to allow me to stay at the Computer. For this, I have a special recipe. It's a Chex Mix For Writers and Programmers. Here 'tis:

1 box Chex cereal (Rice flavor)
1 box Chex cereal (Corn flavor)
1 can Party Nuts (generic OK)
1 small bag tiny pretzels
1 small bag Cheetos
1 small bag Fritos
6 Tablespoons margarine (Blue Bonnet, etc)
2 Tablespoons Worstershire sauce
1.5 Teaspoons Lawry's salt
1 Teaspoon garlic powder
.5 Teaspoon onion powder


Get a big bowl. Mix up the cereals, nuts, pretzels, and chips. Use platic tongs. Make sure bowl is not made of metal. Now in small container microwave the margarine until it's all melted (usually under a minute); careful not to splash. Take out and add all seasonings. Mix well with teaspoon or tablespoon. Pour over the mix in the big bowl. Now pick up tongs again and mix, mix, mix. Place big bowl in microwave and Nuke for 2 minutes. Take out and mix, mix, mix. Nuke again for 2 minutes. Mix, mix, mix. Nuke one last time (2 minutes). Take out, dump whole bowl on cookie sheets or wax paper (you chose). When cool, place in nice plastic tubs or containers you reuse from other things (margarine tub, pretzel jugs, Pringles, etc). Keep containers handy near the Computer for snack to keep going, late night or anytime. YUM!



Put in cereal bowls for Party (Holidaze, etc).

Also, some good sample Containers to keep it in:



Good for near Computer, in Kitchen, around the house, etc. Bring it to work for Lunch/Snack. Lots of good ideas. Be creative!


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Bradley J MiltonBusiness Executive, Originator of Occupy Wall St (aka Generation SHOP), author of experimental psychedelic cut-up computerized pop culture fiction.