Painting With Shotguns IX

Yeah, I know, I did a Painting With Shotguns earlier this week. But that was a special edition. It’s like a DVD extra. You should be paying me for this, let’s be frank. Terrible Minds Logo (Misc) Since you’re not, that means I can do whatever I want and say whatever I want. I can clang pots together. I can do a little pantsless dance. You just have to deal with it. Anyway. On with the show.

  • Let me frontload the whole post with this: I am soliciting post ideas from you again. I’ll be more specific this time. Since I seem to be devoting more and more of this bloggery towards writing advice, throw me some writing topics. I can’t promise I’ll have the right answers. But I can promise I’ll have funny answers. And I can also promise dick jokes and pictures of my dogs when all else fails. So! Topics about writing! Go!
  • Speaking of writing advice — I got a little something-something over at The Storyverse today about time management and writing. Does it sound like the most boring post ever? It does. I agree. But, I invoke the power of Jesus. I discuss time sorcery. I play some rad guitar licks. So get on over there and get to reading. And while you’re there, check out the Manchurian Dipshit. Because I said so.
  • Sam and Criminy Krafft, this game of inches is killing me. I know, I know, it’s how things are done. But everything is in a state of in-between. It’s wandering the wasteland. It’s got 40 days and 40 nights in the desert. Every project I have, with the exception of one, is eking forward with the speed of a man on his knees. And the man has arthritis in his hands, and scabs on his legs. I’m waiting for that MMO moment where I can ding! and get to the next level. So far, not happening. The good news is, nothing is going backwards. The game of inches is so far one of progression, but it’s not one of acceleration. Don’t get me wrong, these are good problems to have. I just want to take a fast car ride to an awesome destination (read: I’m not a patient dude). Vroom. Zoom. ZZZzzz.
  • Cliff “Motherfucking Ninja” Lee made the World Series opener a pitcher’s game last night, putting the Phils on the proper path to ascendancy over Them Damn Yankees. Lee made two ludicrous catches with such aloofness and ease, it was fantastic to watch. Lee pitched the complete game. The Yankees had… I think about 72 pitchers come on and off the mound. I think I saw an old lady up there, and the Geico Gecko. Which explains why they lost. Suckers. I forgot how much I love baseball. Don’t worry, I’ll forget it again next year. I’ve been that kind of fan.
  • I think you can pre-order Vermin: The Anthology over at Rymfire eBooks — I have my story “Squirrel Skin” there, which I think they (or I?) have misidentified as “Squirrelly Skin.” Whatever works. Just buy the anthology, please? Don’t make me come over there and hit you in the legs with a pipe.
  • I did me some Darker Days podcastin’ last night with those excellent lads, plus the two madmen known as Eddy “The Eradicator” Webb and Stew “Steve” Wilson. Topics discussed include, but are not limited to: rains of blood, the consumption of child scalps, the puppy-of-the-month club, cock spiders, dickpunchers, and how Eddy actually died back in Ohio and is now just a ghost like Bruce Willis in The Sixth Sense. Oh, we also said some cool stuff about the World of Darkness, Storytelling, and horror writing and games in general. So, look for that podcast when it’s done baking. (For the record, Stew Wilson has a beautiful voice.)
  • Modern Family has swiftly become my favorite show of the new season, and maybe one of my favorite shows on TV. It has that Arrested Development quality, but thankfully, not the Arrested Development ratings. I mean to say, it’s a ratings winner, which means it’ll stay around. The two gay dudes on that show are priceless. Best characters on TV right now. The show is absurd and hilarious, but also genuinely sweet at times. It’s fast eclipsing Glee, and I wonder… do I need to stop watching Glee at that hour and just make the official switch instead of catching this on Hulu? These are the problems that plague me in the wee hours of the morn. The wee hours. Also, the wee-wee hours, which is when I pee. Hey, some people read when they make number two. I think very hard when I make number one.
  • Speaking of TV. Psych, season two. Yes. (Also, I know I’m behind. Shut up.)
  • Segueing from TV to Books About TV, go buy Good Eats: The Early Years. Best used as a reference manual. I don’t usually dig cookbooks — I like them in theory, but they gather more dust than I’d like. This book will teach you technique and give you overall food knowledge. Good Eats as a show is fun for me, but not usually directly useful — the book version is very useful (very directly), because it sits near me when I’m cooking. I have cabbage in hand, I say, “What will Alton Brown teach me about cabbage today?” Then I flip to it, and I learn some shit.
  • On a sidenote, while I support everybody losing weight, Alton Brown has lost too much weight. My first response when seeing him was, “Is he sick? Does he have cancer?” He lost 50 lbs. I think he could’ve stopped at 30, but that’s just me.
  • Jet Pack. Wood Ingham. Ghost Story. GO.
  • One final thing. Our little dog — the taco terrier (CUTE PICTURE HERE OMG SQUEE EEEE) — is sometimes uncertain that what I’m putting in her food bowl is any good at all. After all, it’s not pizza bones, so who cares? So, I give her food a little bit of “foot sauce.” Foot sauce is when I stick my socked foot into her bowl and stir it around. Yes, getting my feet all over her food. No actual sauce exists. I’m not contributing anything meaningful to her food, but somehow, it convinces her that I have just added a little something extra to her meal. It’s a lie. But she eats it. Moral of the story: lie to your dogs.


  • Lie to your cats, too. They’ll probably know you’re lying and continue to plot your demise, but the prospect of a frolic outside might stay their wrath another day.

  • Alright, here’s one. I have been hit with massive inspiration for a horror/thriller story, and I mean this motherfucker is singing to me. But… it’s also erotica. Any advice for not feeling like a pervert (And giggling… and avoiding the phrase “heaving bosom”)? And pacing; if I do this, I’d hate to be… premature. *Smirk*

    • Editing techniques, got it. Not sure that I’d have anything great to say about game design of indie v. established, but it’s worth a shot. And then, pacing + erotica. (Have you seen my post on writing sex scenes, Scionic?)

      — c.

  • Yup. I’m not so much worried about writing the sex scenes themselves, even though reading my 2am post seems that way. More coping with writing erotica and not giggling every time I say boobies (and… not writing the word boobies in my story). On reflection, I can see that is really more a matter of maturity, and I am highly unlikely to attain that any time soon. More to point- pacing.

    In screenplays it’s easier to control pacing, because you know 1 page = 1 minute and you can control beats through the story. I am concerned about pacing where it applies to tension. People Koontz and King have a natural ability to create suspense, and while I am fairly good at writing things that are fast paced I get really clumsy with (for example) setting the mood when Jason is chasing down Boobies McDeadcamper.

    Does that make any sense?

    • Nope. Makes no sense, Scionic. It’s just you. You’ve lost your mind.

      Okay, yeah, it makes total sense. Tension and pacing. Got it. My brain’s on it.

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