Thursday, August 16, 2007
The IT Seduction
I've been gone from blogging for a couple of days. Tuesday evening saw a reception at my workplace that I planned and two of my kids were involved with, so I very well couldn't have skipped out on that. Last night my husband and I attended a birthday party for a new friend. Regardless of how chatty I appear to be here, I'm quite shy upon first meeting people and this party had lots of people I didn't know. As it turns out, I spoke in depth with four people I met at the party - a personal first for me and ever so cool.
In any case, due to the two evening events, I was simply too tired to blog. What's poopy about this is that I miss blogging, and ache to get back to it. Mind you, I've only been blogging for about a year. My evening computer routine goes something like this: When I can find a free computer (which is quite difficult in this household - two computers + a gamer + a college student + an IMing daughter + a Young Son who checks out YouTube = when does Mom get to blog?), I jump on and first check my emails and respond to those needing responses. I have several accounts to check. Then, if I have a blog post idea, I'll do that. It can take anywhere from ten minutes to an hour, depending on the topic and the post length. Next I'll check the blogs I'm following in Bloglines. Sometimes I leave comments, so that eats up some time. Then I'll check email again. By the time I've done these few online tasks, two-to-three hours have flashed by. Then I'm sick of looking at a computer screen.
Whatever did I do with my time before we had high-speed internet and I had a blog? I had to think about this because I don't really do less housework and I seem to be getting plenty of creative time. I think that I'm not watching as much television in the evening. I'm not much of a couch potato anyway. Even when the TV is on, I'm always flitting around the house. I catch a bunch of my news online now, whereas I used to watch Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert and the local evening news. I've also noticed that I'm going to bed later, but that could just be summer in Minnesota.
I had to secretly cheer for Neil Gaiman's productivity when he lost power due to a storm this past weekend. Without the seduction of the computer, he was able to write. Pen, paper and candlelight, anyone?
In any case, due to the two evening events, I was simply too tired to blog. What's poopy about this is that I miss blogging, and ache to get back to it. Mind you, I've only been blogging for about a year. My evening computer routine goes something like this: When I can find a free computer (which is quite difficult in this household - two computers + a gamer + a college student + an IMing daughter + a Young Son who checks out YouTube = when does Mom get to blog?), I jump on and first check my emails and respond to those needing responses. I have several accounts to check. Then, if I have a blog post idea, I'll do that. It can take anywhere from ten minutes to an hour, depending on the topic and the post length. Next I'll check the blogs I'm following in Bloglines. Sometimes I leave comments, so that eats up some time. Then I'll check email again. By the time I've done these few online tasks, two-to-three hours have flashed by. Then I'm sick of looking at a computer screen.
Whatever did I do with my time before we had high-speed internet and I had a blog? I had to think about this because I don't really do less housework and I seem to be getting plenty of creative time. I think that I'm not watching as much television in the evening. I'm not much of a couch potato anyway. Even when the TV is on, I'm always flitting around the house. I catch a bunch of my news online now, whereas I used to watch Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert and the local evening news. I've also noticed that I'm going to bed later, but that could just be summer in Minnesota.
I had to secretly cheer for Neil Gaiman's productivity when he lost power due to a storm this past weekend. Without the seduction of the computer, he was able to write. Pen, paper and candlelight, anyone?
Labels: blogging, children, computer, creative, email, husband, neil gaiman, technology, television, time, work, writing
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
The Rattletrap
I wish I'd had my camera with tonight when we went out for pizza. Parked a couple of car-lengths ahead of our car was a motorcycle with a trailer and sidecar. I use the terms motorcycle, trailer and sidecar loosely here. Very loosely. The motorcycle was old school in a way that was dinosauric. The whole setup was cobbled together, but just barely.
Now, I'm all for recycling and the creative reuse of things, but this was danger incarnate. If you're an adult and want to risk your life on a rickety cycle that doesn't come anywhere near road safety requirements, fine. It's your life. What was horrific about the contraption was the sidecar - which appeared to be four unfinished pieces of plywood held to a metal frame by no more than chewing gum or bandaids. (I'm exaggerating about the chewing gum and bandaids, but not much.) Inside the sidecar was an infant car seat so old that it was no longer road-worthy. Actually, the sidecar looked like a mini-trailer filled with junk, which is all I'd transport in it. But, no . . . a CHILD got into it. Thankfully, he was wearing a helmet, although I'm not sure how much good that would do if the whole thing gave way. The situation makes me shudder and pray, for the child's sake, that the thing is better constructed than it looked. Honestly, when it comes down to the safety of children, get something street legal.
Now, I'm all for recycling and the creative reuse of things, but this was danger incarnate. If you're an adult and want to risk your life on a rickety cycle that doesn't come anywhere near road safety requirements, fine. It's your life. What was horrific about the contraption was the sidecar - which appeared to be four unfinished pieces of plywood held to a metal frame by no more than chewing gum or bandaids. (I'm exaggerating about the chewing gum and bandaids, but not much.) Inside the sidecar was an infant car seat so old that it was no longer road-worthy. Actually, the sidecar looked like a mini-trailer filled with junk, which is all I'd transport in it. But, no . . . a CHILD got into it. Thankfully, he was wearing a helmet, although I'm not sure how much good that would do if the whole thing gave way. The situation makes me shudder and pray, for the child's sake, that the thing is better constructed than it looked. Honestly, when it comes down to the safety of children, get something street legal.
Labels: children, creative, danger, motorcycle, pizza, recycling, safety
Friday, March 30, 2007
Fame Junkies
I finished reading a book by Jake Halpern called Fame Junkies. The book discusses the psychological underpinnings of why we are so attracted to celebrities. Jake researched ideas about para-social relationships (relationships held from afar) as well as looking at how primates behave in hierarchies. Turns out that male monkeys (rhesus macaques) are more interested in watching dominant males and the back sides of female monkeys than in looking at non-dominant males and the front sides of females. What does THAT say about the men in our species and their tendency to focus on the physical attributes of women? Should we bother worrying about what our butts look like? As for watching the dominant male monkeys, those who could keep track of the Big Cahuna could get in his good graces, thus ensuring survival - or they could avoid his bad moods, thus ensuring survival. Here we are, all a bunch of monkeys, acting out some biological imperative with celebrity worship. Only Jake indicates that our fascination with celebrities has gotten much worse, more out of hand. I was especially saddened by the chapter devoted to young people who attend talent schools in hopes of becoming famous. What a treadmill.
I'm interested in fame, as is evidenced by my Manifesto of Fame and my Squidoo lens on the topic, yet it feels like more of an academic interest. (I think that there will be more people taking an academic interest in fame as celebrity worship is on the rise.) Jake is quite forthcoming about the fact that when one studies fame, one is in danger of succumbing to the attention and glory of it all. What I'm wondering, that the book didn't discuss, is how does one get enough renown (fame is too strong here) to be able to survive on one's creative work? We don't all want to be Vincent VanGogh and die penniless and mad. How does one get a solid respect for her work, yet still maintain a sense of privacy and a solid personal life? How does one remain connected to those who support the work, are fans of the work, but avoid the overboard fan behavior?
I'm interested in fame, as is evidenced by my Manifesto of Fame and my Squidoo lens on the topic, yet it feels like more of an academic interest. (I think that there will be more people taking an academic interest in fame as celebrity worship is on the rise.) Jake is quite forthcoming about the fact that when one studies fame, one is in danger of succumbing to the attention and glory of it all. What I'm wondering, that the book didn't discuss, is how does one get enough renown (fame is too strong here) to be able to survive on one's creative work? We don't all want to be Vincent VanGogh and die penniless and mad. How does one get a solid respect for her work, yet still maintain a sense of privacy and a solid personal life? How does one remain connected to those who support the work, are fans of the work, but avoid the overboard fan behavior?
Labels: books, creative, fame, fame junkies, jake halpern, manifesto, monkeys, reading, squidoo
Monday, March 26, 2007
FtTP - John Waters & Quentin Tarantino - NOT!
I've not posted a Frankensteining the Talent Pool suggestion in some time, and today I'm doing an anti-FtTP. I saw the movie director John Waters on a commercial last night. He's going to be hosting a TV show. Waters is best known for his movie Pink Flamingos, which has to be seen to be believed. It is definitely not for children, and frankly, it's not a movie for most adults, either. After the Waters commercial, I saw a movie trailer for Quentin Tarantino, who is known for bizarre, psychotic violence in his movies. Seeing the two in such close proximity, I wondered what a movie directed by the both of them would look like. And then I really thought about it and decided that the world probably doesn't need two crazy creepo creatives teaming up to unleash their twisted ideas upon each other or the rest of us. Makes me shudder to think about it.
Labels: creative, frankensteining the talent pool, FtTP, john waters, movie, quentin tarantino
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Superstitious Creatives
I found this post by Josh Clark on the blog Global Moxie via another blog called Creating Passionate Users. In short, Josh discusses the use of totems, magic boxes, and rituals by artists as a means to get into their work, to tap the muse. When I first read it, I thought, hmm . . . I don't have any totems that pull me into my creative flow. No stones do I rub, no Buddha statue do I pray to, no pillow do I turn around on three times before settling in. I don't have much in the way of rituals, either, unless you count turning on the computer and getting out my dictionary and thesaurus. I guess those are rituals. Probably the closest I have to a totem or ritual is turning on some music. Dave Matthews Band is my favorite (in case you hadn't noticed by now), because there's enough fuzzy writerly stuff in the music and lyrics that it jump-starts my imagination. When I'm sick of DMB, which happens occasionally, I'll put in other disks . . . The Killers, Enya, U2, Depeche Mode, Michael Buble, Queen. The secret is that the music has to be something I've already listened to so much that it's been ingrained in the fibers of my being. It has to melt away into the background so that it doesn't disrupt my writing.
Labels: blog, creative, dave matthews band, depeche mode, enya, global moxie, killers, michael buble, music, queen, rituals, superstition, totems, u2
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Comparisons, Part II
Back in December, I posted about the comparisons critics make when attempting to describe the work of a creative artist who's just busted onto the scene, so to speak. Critics (and the rest of us), tend to make comparisons between the new work and the work of established creatives. At the time, I wondered why it was so common to do this. Well, I've found an answer. I'm working my way through the book "Made to Stick: Why Some Ideas Survive and Others Die" by Chip Heath and Dan Heath. One thing that helps to make new ideas sticky is to frame them in terms of what people already know. In other words, it's easier to wrap your mind around a new idea if you can compare it to an older, better known concept, even if that comparison isn't a perfect one.
So, even though it smacks of lazy writing when critics compare creatives this way, this is a very successful shorthand for getting people to immediately understand what you're talking about. It's probably also the reason behind our inability to beat cliches to death with a stick. Let the comparisons continue.
So, even though it smacks of lazy writing when critics compare creatives this way, this is a very successful shorthand for getting people to immediately understand what you're talking about. It's probably also the reason behind our inability to beat cliches to death with a stick. Let the comparisons continue.
Labels: cliches, comparison, creative, critics, idea, made to stick, writing
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Hurray for Repetition!
That Resentment post of mine sure shows my cranky side. Gosh, I hate missing out on important information. But, I'm also a cup-half-full kind of gal, so here's the up side. Even though I resent not having gotten most of the tech memos sent out, at least I don't stay in the dark forever. If the information is important enough for me to know, eventually I'll catch on, or it'll catch me. The key to this is REPETITION.
I love that human beings keep repeating stuff to each other, be it the latest gossip, the newest toy, the coolest YouTube video, the most critical healthcare report. There's so much information whirling around our heads that it's impossible to track it all. Hearing something once, unless it's REALLY important, is not likely to stick with us. I watched the Numa Numa video a couple of times yesterday. Do I remember the song today? Nope. Gotta listen again.
When I really want to understand something, I go out of my way to enhance the repetition. For example, I listen to the music of Dave Matthews Band over and over again (ad nauseum, if you ask my family), so that I can cement it in my head and comprehend its nuances. As a creative person, the understanding gained from this form of repetition assists me in splicing together my own creative products. A side benefit to this particular repetition of songs is that it allows me to turn my brain into an iPod. Instant download if there's no exterior music source to listen to.
Repetition = Eventually being in the know.
Repetiton = Enhancement of creativity.
Repetition = Exercise for our neural synapses.
Repetition = Memory booster.
Hurray for Repetition!
I love that human beings keep repeating stuff to each other, be it the latest gossip, the newest toy, the coolest YouTube video, the most critical healthcare report. There's so much information whirling around our heads that it's impossible to track it all. Hearing something once, unless it's REALLY important, is not likely to stick with us. I watched the Numa Numa video a couple of times yesterday. Do I remember the song today? Nope. Gotta listen again.
When I really want to understand something, I go out of my way to enhance the repetition. For example, I listen to the music of Dave Matthews Band over and over again (ad nauseum, if you ask my family), so that I can cement it in my head and comprehend its nuances. As a creative person, the understanding gained from this form of repetition assists me in splicing together my own creative products. A side benefit to this particular repetition of songs is that it allows me to turn my brain into an iPod. Instant download if there's no exterior music source to listen to.
Repetition = Eventually being in the know.
Repetiton = Enhancement of creativity.
Repetition = Exercise for our neural synapses.
Repetition = Memory booster.
Hurray for Repetition!
Labels: creative, dave matthews band, music, repetition, resentment, splice, youtube
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Tricky Dick
What would happen if Deep Throat, the Watergate informant, was actually two fifteen-year-old girls? The movie Dick deals with just that premise. I've caught it a couple of times on Comedy Central. It's brilliant. The teenage girls, Betsy and Arlene, are played by Kirsten Dunst and Michelle Williams. They spend gobs of time squealing and their wardrobe is to die for. Deborah Everton, the costume designer for the movie, should've won an award.
Betsy and Arlene unwittingly find themselves at the center of Richard Nixon's Watergate scandal. They manage to become the President's dog walkers and get themselves in deeper. Arlene eventually falls for Dick, plastering her bedroom walls with his photos as though he's a rock star. Supremely cute.
The movie was released in 1999, but I don't remember seeing any previews for it. It pays to revisit our culture's past creative products. We can't catch them all the first time around.
By the way, according to the Washington Post, the real Deep Throat wasn't two teenage girls. It was W. Mark Felt, the number 2 man in the FBI. I bet he never walked the President's dog.
Betsy and Arlene unwittingly find themselves at the center of Richard Nixon's Watergate scandal. They manage to become the President's dog walkers and get themselves in deeper. Arlene eventually falls for Dick, plastering her bedroom walls with his photos as though he's a rock star. Supremely cute.
The movie was released in 1999, but I don't remember seeing any previews for it. It pays to revisit our culture's past creative products. We can't catch them all the first time around.
By the way, according to the Washington Post, the real Deep Throat wasn't two teenage girls. It was W. Mark Felt, the number 2 man in the FBI. I bet he never walked the President's dog.
Labels: creative, dick, movie, nixon, watergate
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
The All Important Profile
Is cageyness an asset or a liability? In Robert Scoble and Shel Israel's book Naked Conversations: How Blogs Are Changing the Way Businesses Talk with Customers, they discuss how important transparency is in a blog. But, dang! What about identity thieves? I heard Jon Gordon, MPR's host of Future Tense, comment on how over forty percent of people online use pseudonyms or avatars. He wondered why they were doing so. Has he ever seen Dateline's show featuring the capture of online pedophiles? If only one person decides to be dishonest about his/her identity, even if the reasons are noble or just for fun and creativity, the rest of us are put at a disadvantage.
On the other hand, professionals who want to get noticed and credited for their work are quite open about their backgrounds. If a criminal tried to steal the identity of a well-known person, hopefully the rest of us will catch on. Of course, this doesn't mean that well-known people plaster their social security or credit card numbers all over the internet.
So, here's the deal on my profile and the revelation of personal information. I'm on the fence. I'll reveal some, but not so much that I think it'll be a personal safety hazard. Hey, it's the best I can do. At least I'm using my real name.
By the way, wouldn't it be wonderful if criminals could put those creative minds to something more societally constructive?
On the other hand, professionals who want to get noticed and credited for their work are quite open about their backgrounds. If a criminal tried to steal the identity of a well-known person, hopefully the rest of us will catch on. Of course, this doesn't mean that well-known people plaster their social security or credit card numbers all over the internet.
So, here's the deal on my profile and the revelation of personal information. I'm on the fence. I'll reveal some, but not so much that I think it'll be a personal safety hazard. Hey, it's the best I can do. At least I'm using my real name.
By the way, wouldn't it be wonderful if criminals could put those creative minds to something more societally constructive?
Labels: blog, creative, criminals, identity, profile, technology
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Jealousy in a Skimpy Black Dress
As a creative type, I hate to admit this, but I get jealous. Not in a bad way, though. More in a spur-me-to-do-better way.
I just finished reading Susan Jane Gilman's Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress: Tales of Growing Up Groovy and Clueless. The book hilariously details Gilman's years growing up in New York City and her years beyond. She seems to have been quite the outgoing, but self-depricating child/teenager/young adult. I can't count the number of friends she discusses during her wild escapades. The chapters that really struck a chord with me were "Mick Jagger Wants Me" and "Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress." The former details her near chance encounter with Mick Jagger as she and a friend stand outside a recording studio waiting for him to appear. First Keith Richards appears. After they exchange greetings, Susan panics. She doesn't want to meet Mick this way, as a groupie outside a studio door. She had always imagined being introduced to him. She flees. Later, she gets the surprise of her life at a dinner party. Mick Jagger shows up and she is introduced to him. You'll have to read the book to find out what happens.
I can fully understand that notion of wanting to be introduced to a celebrity, as though one is a normal person and not some moony-eyed slavering devotee. There are very few celebrities I have a hankering to meet. The celebrities that really get my attention are those with incredible talent and artistry. Their writing or art or music or whatever, has to strike a chord with me. (Isn't that the way we all feel?) I hate that larger industries and the media place these people so out of reach from the rest of us. Author Michael Joseph Gross has written a wonderful book on the interrelationship between fans and stars. It's called Starstruck.
As an aside that fits this post, I had a dream last night in which my family and I hooked up with the neighbors and headed to a local park, where I was thrilled to see Dave Matthews performing (I think he was doing a solo gig, because I didn't see the rest of Dave Matthews Band). The audience wasn't very big - which is not the usual scenario at a Dave Matthews concert. Dave left the stage and headed to a spot in the grass nearby. I and several other people walked over to meet him. He appeared lost in another world. I came around behind him and gently touched his arm to get his attention. It was sweaty because he'd just been performing. Thing is, the feeling was so real for a dream that I woke with the sensation still in my fingertips. I saw that he was on a cellphone and I walked away. Meeting him simply wasn't worth bothering him.
Freudians, you may start analyzing now. I think I was considering/recognizing the humanness of a celebrity who seems to be more than human. In any case, Susan's Mick story hit home.
As for her Hypocrite chapter, man, I laughed and cried as she described her adventures in buying a wedding gown. And I cheered her on as she found one that fit so beautifully that she felt like a princess. Everyone should have a personal tailor or fitting expert.
,
Here's where the jealousy part comes in. Susan has such a fine grasp of language that knock-out descriptions pop up all over the place. For example, this one from page 93: "She used the tone adults use when they haven't the faintest idea how to relate to children - the vocal equivalent of aspartame." Can't you just feel the rotten taste on your tongue? Oooh! Green envy! I wish I could write so well. But, I have to remember, this isn't a competition between me and other writers. It's a competition between me and myself, with other writers serving as prods to my improvement.
I just finished reading Susan Jane Gilman's Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress: Tales of Growing Up Groovy and Clueless. The book hilariously details Gilman's years growing up in New York City and her years beyond. She seems to have been quite the outgoing, but self-depricating child/teenager/young adult. I can't count the number of friends she discusses during her wild escapades. The chapters that really struck a chord with me were "Mick Jagger Wants Me" and "Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress." The former details her near chance encounter with Mick Jagger as she and a friend stand outside a recording studio waiting for him to appear. First Keith Richards appears. After they exchange greetings, Susan panics. She doesn't want to meet Mick this way, as a groupie outside a studio door. She had always imagined being introduced to him. She flees. Later, she gets the surprise of her life at a dinner party. Mick Jagger shows up and she is introduced to him. You'll have to read the book to find out what happens.
I can fully understand that notion of wanting to be introduced to a celebrity, as though one is a normal person and not some moony-eyed slavering devotee. There are very few celebrities I have a hankering to meet. The celebrities that really get my attention are those with incredible talent and artistry. Their writing or art or music or whatever, has to strike a chord with me. (Isn't that the way we all feel?) I hate that larger industries and the media place these people so out of reach from the rest of us. Author Michael Joseph Gross has written a wonderful book on the interrelationship between fans and stars. It's called Starstruck.
As an aside that fits this post, I had a dream last night in which my family and I hooked up with the neighbors and headed to a local park, where I was thrilled to see Dave Matthews performing (I think he was doing a solo gig, because I didn't see the rest of Dave Matthews Band). The audience wasn't very big - which is not the usual scenario at a Dave Matthews concert. Dave left the stage and headed to a spot in the grass nearby. I and several other people walked over to meet him. He appeared lost in another world. I came around behind him and gently touched his arm to get his attention. It was sweaty because he'd just been performing. Thing is, the feeling was so real for a dream that I woke with the sensation still in my fingertips. I saw that he was on a cellphone and I walked away. Meeting him simply wasn't worth bothering him.
Freudians, you may start analyzing now. I think I was considering/recognizing the humanness of a celebrity who seems to be more than human. In any case, Susan's Mick story hit home.
As for her Hypocrite chapter, man, I laughed and cried as she described her adventures in buying a wedding gown. And I cheered her on as she found one that fit so beautifully that she felt like a princess. Everyone should have a personal tailor or fitting expert.
,
Here's where the jealousy part comes in. Susan has such a fine grasp of language that knock-out descriptions pop up all over the place. For example, this one from page 93: "She used the tone adults use when they haven't the faintest idea how to relate to children - the vocal equivalent of aspartame." Can't you just feel the rotten taste on your tongue? Oooh! Green envy! I wish I could write so well. But, I have to remember, this isn't a competition between me and other writers. It's a competition between me and myself, with other writers serving as prods to my improvement.
Labels: band, clothing, concert, creative, dave matthews band, fame, jealousy, music, susan jane gilman, writing
Monday, September 11, 2006
Too Many Thoughts
The trouble with wanting to do a blog and not doing it right away, when the thought strikes, is that too many ideas back up and I don't know what to cover first. I have a notebook filling up with thoughts I want to post. Yesterday's post was not in my notebook and an utter fluke. Not really. I find so many fascinating, creative things that I want to comment on that the Brackenwood series was just one in a long line of cool stuff in this world.
I'm changing my tagline again. Yesterday it was "Better than Neezuls." Today it is "Thoughts on creativity, writing & life, commentary about other creative beings, and some ideas thrown in for good measure." Yes, it's wordy. I beseech the heavens to send me something cool and pithy, but I'm not going to push it. That's exactly when creativity leaves the room.
Today was a writing day for me. Mondays usually are. I'm off work, the kids are in school, the husband is studying for college. I clear my slate of household chores over the weekend so I can get right to work on Monday. If something happens that prevents me from writing, I practically vibrate in frustration. It's not a pretty sight. I've talked to another writer in my writers group who says the same thing. Writing is like breathing for us. Gotta do it. My brother, an IT security tech by profession, a musician by desire, told me about his need for three or four hours of uninterupted studio time. Time to get set up. Time to warm up. Time to get in the zone. Time to lose track of time and really get something accomplished. Sounds like a writer's life to me.
I finished a story today. Something that's been in the works for a month or so. It's called "As Above, Not So Below" and I envision it as an illustrated story. After seeing the Bitey of Brackenwood series, I can imagine who I'd like to have illustrate it. There's another artist, I can't quite recall his pen name, Grimsley I think, who illustrated a collection of four of Edgar Allen Poe's short stories, whose style would work well with the story. The premise of "As Above, Not So Below" is nature's reclamation of the stuff we people make. I use pavement as my example in the story, but it happens with barns and bridges and tools and fabric.
I'm changing my tagline again. Yesterday it was "Better than Neezuls." Today it is "Thoughts on creativity, writing & life, commentary about other creative beings, and some ideas thrown in for good measure." Yes, it's wordy. I beseech the heavens to send me something cool and pithy, but I'm not going to push it. That's exactly when creativity leaves the room.
Today was a writing day for me. Mondays usually are. I'm off work, the kids are in school, the husband is studying for college. I clear my slate of household chores over the weekend so I can get right to work on Monday. If something happens that prevents me from writing, I practically vibrate in frustration. It's not a pretty sight. I've talked to another writer in my writers group who says the same thing. Writing is like breathing for us. Gotta do it. My brother, an IT security tech by profession, a musician by desire, told me about his need for three or four hours of uninterupted studio time. Time to get set up. Time to warm up. Time to get in the zone. Time to lose track of time and really get something accomplished. Sounds like a writer's life to me.
I finished a story today. Something that's been in the works for a month or so. It's called "As Above, Not So Below" and I envision it as an illustrated story. After seeing the Bitey of Brackenwood series, I can imagine who I'd like to have illustrate it. There's another artist, I can't quite recall his pen name, Grimsley I think, who illustrated a collection of four of Edgar Allen Poe's short stories, whose style would work well with the story. The premise of "As Above, Not So Below" is nature's reclamation of the stuff we people make. I use pavement as my example in the story, but it happens with barns and bridges and tools and fabric.
Labels: bitey, blog, brother, creative, creativity, edgar allan poe, entropy, husband, idea, kids, story, tagline, writing
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Frankensteining the Talent Pool
I mentioned my original idea for a tagline - Frankensteining the Talent Pool - and I need to explain that. It's a game the whole family can play. When it comes to famous creative people, have you ever had the notion that a particular star should work with another star? I'm always wanting to do this.
For example, what would be the result if Gwen Stefani and Michael Buble worked together? I caught Buble's Public Television show and that man can romance an audience. He even draws in those who are sitting in the upper balconies. He's smooth, with a voice of liquid satin. (I've got Buble's website up and his music is playing as I type. Sweet! Why don't more musicians do this?)
Ms. Stefani, who gained her fame with the quirky ska-esque group No Doubt, has a wider range than her No Doubt and solo work. She appeared on The Brian Setzer Orchestra's album The Dirty Boogie. Song 7 - You're the Boss. Go ahead. Have a listen. She's fabulous & playful. A sexy kitten vixen. A perfect match for Buble's style.
That's Frankensteining the Talent Pool.
I'll be posting more of these ideas and I encourage you to do the same. Who do you want to Frankenstein?
For example, what would be the result if Gwen Stefani and Michael Buble worked together? I caught Buble's Public Television show and that man can romance an audience. He even draws in those who are sitting in the upper balconies. He's smooth, with a voice of liquid satin. (I've got Buble's website up and his music is playing as I type. Sweet! Why don't more musicians do this?)
Ms. Stefani, who gained her fame with the quirky ska-esque group No Doubt, has a wider range than her No Doubt and solo work. She appeared on The Brian Setzer Orchestra's album The Dirty Boogie. Song 7 - You're the Boss. Go ahead. Have a listen. She's fabulous & playful. A sexy kitten vixen. A perfect match for Buble's style.
That's Frankensteining the Talent Pool.
I'll be posting more of these ideas and I encourage you to do the same. Who do you want to Frankenstein?
Labels: brian setzer, creative, frankensteining the talent pool, FtTP, gwen stefani, listening, michael buble, no doubt
