Quicky update today (because I’ve got to go snowblow our surprisingly long-ass driveway), and for that I drag the ol’ Painting With Shotguns blog-mode out of the drawer. Forgive me, I suspect it smells a little like mothballs. And, curiously, like ferret musk. Don’t ask questions. Just read.

Arrugula Screechers

Want a sales update on Irregular Creatures? Can do, my little winged kitties.

I won’t break down the day-by-day because I suspect that’s just going to get boring, but suffice to say since last Saturday, I’ve been selling between three and five per day, with the exception of yesterday, where I somehow managed to foist eight copies unto an unsuspecting populace.

That brings total sales up to: 189.

Amazon: 128

Amazon UK: 11

PDF: 48

Smashwords: 2

Looks like on Amazon the entry finally reflects (as of yesterday) the “People who bought Irregular Creatures also bought…” I’m in, of course, good company there. Chris Holm’s 8 Pounds, the Terminal Damage collection, and Allan Guthrie’s Bye Bye Baby. Need to crossover a little bit and get into the hands of people who are buying a lot of fantasy and sci-fi, though.

Received some lovely reviews this week:

… From Stephen Blackmoore.

… From Dave Turner.

… From Andrew Jack.

Got giveaways and interviews up at Bubblecow and Indie Horror.

Got a straight-up giveaway at Andrew Jack’s blog.

And cover artist Amy Houser worked on a comic with author Cat Valente: “Deathless.” It’s up right now at the Tor-dot-com site, so hurry over and check it out.

For those who have not procured the book as yet, would love to know why? No harm no foul, just curious. If you’re willing to share, of course.

Pandemic Countdown

www.hopeismissing.com

Click that link. See that gas mask? See that countdown clock?

Pandemic is coming. Are you going to be infected?

The event will cross a span of several days and will take place both in Park City and outside it — which means you crazy kids at home can both watch and interact with the experience. (I’ll tell you — maybe tomorrow or the day after — how you can get involved in a big roleplaying experiment and become a part of the story and its damaged world.)

I’d like to personally thank some people who helped do some back-up writing for the experience: Andrea Phillips, Stephen Blackmoore, Will Hindmarch, Jason Blair, Jesse Scoble, Kari Hayes, Christopher Simmons, Wood Ingham. I did some writing myself and served as story editor of the Pandemic experience, and am excited to see how it all plays out.

Articles: “Disrupting What’s Expected” at Sundance site; “Weiler Brings A Pandemic To Park City” at the Wall Street Journal; “Sundance Is Ground Zero For Pandemic 1.0” at Wired.

Remember:

Avoid the sick.

Don’t sleep.

And beware strange objects.

More as it develops. Follow the #pandemic11 hashtag on Twitter.

Udder Work

Well, Double Dead continues apace. The novel, which could be subtitled, “A Vampire In Zombieland,” is hella fun to write. Part of me thinks this is the key to writing — find projects that are fun as hell to write because the fun projects write themselves. Not to say you shouldn’t get deep and personal and moody and whatever — serious is good. But man, I forgot how much fun it is to write crazy awesome shit.

Speaking of vampires, just did a Vampire: The Requiem SAS for White Wolf and the ever-excellent and always-charming Eddy Webb. And one assumes that sometime in the next 15 years, Danse Macabre will actually hit shelves, so look for that when you’re old and gray.

I have two other gaming projects… lurking in the wings, but neither have entirely manifested yet. I only see gauzy shapes and trembling clouds, but I think they’re going to materialize soon. Er, I hope they are.

But that also tells me to tell you:

Hey! I’m open for freelance work. It’s the new year. And soon enough I’m going to have another mouth to feed what with the birth of our genderless centaur baby human boy come spring.

Know of any work?

I would be ever-gracious if you nudged it my way, or nudged me in that direction.

Just in case you forgot:

No, Seriously, I’m Not Fucking Around, You Don’t Want To Be A Writer.

But, I am a writer, and this penmonkey needs a task.

Link Sausage And Blog Bacon

#cakeandwhores!

“Confessions of a Recovering Dilettante” at Dan O’Shea’s blog.

Best webcomic ever? Romantically Apocalyptic.

The Adventures of Huck Finn — Modified For Modern Sensibilities!

You Got Your Vampire In My Zombie Apocalypse

“You got your zombie apocalypse in my vampire!”

Oh-ho-ho! Silliness abounds! And blood! And rotting flesh! It’s like beer and hot wings!

Ahem.

So, that cover there? Yeah, I didn’t do that. That is not a cover I created. That is a cover created by Abaddon Books for their Tomes of the Dead line of novels. And it happens to have my name on it.

Ta-da! I’m writing a novel for their Tomes of the Dead series and that is the first mock-up cover — a cover that they were kind enough to let me share with you crazy tmeeps.

The notion behind the book is, “Goddamn, it must suck to be a vampire who wakes up starving and finds that the world has been eaten alive by an apocalypse of zombies.” (By the way, “one apocalypse of zombies” is equal to “one hundred hordes of zombies” — that’s some End-of-Days math for you.) It’s like waking up and discovering that all the food has spoiled overnight. If you find a cow, sure, you could just eat it.

But then you’re once more without food. No cow, no food.

Now, look at that from a vampire’s perspective, with all the complexities of being undead and…

Well. You’ll just have to see.

So, I’ll keep you abreast (abreast — titter!) of the news as it comes rolling in about this project, but here it is: the cover to Double Dead, a gonzo apeshit road-trip vampire-zombie novel. Please to enjoy. (Oh, and hey novelists who also happen to be fans? I’d love to hear from you, see if you’d be willing to throw some quote love in my direction for this book. No pressure. Ignore the 9mm pressed against your temple.)

I know, I know, I said Painting With Shotguns might be going on hiatus. And that could happen at any time. It could drop dead of a heart attack like that — *snaps fingers.* But c’mon, it was too good to resist. That vampire there? He’s holding a shotgun. And it’s a painting.

…

Shut up. No, you shut up.

(That cover, by the way, is by the brilliant Pye Parr.)

And The News Keeps On Rolling In

In case you missed the other news, the Sundance Film Festival announced their short film program for 2011 (this January) and — guess who’s on the list?

Pandemic (aka “Mono”), a film by Lance Weiler and written by Lance and myself, is headed to the festival. The film is a precursor to our feature film, which continues to move forward in development.

Also, we’ve got a whole mind-exploding multi-tiered transmedia event going on during the festival as part of Sundance New Frontier, and Gowalla is a part of that, leading up to a really cool secret DJ show. You can read more about that whole kaboodle riiiiiight here (Mashable).

Walking Dead

Back to the zombie thing for a minute — regarding The Walking Dead, I like this i09 article which talks about the scenes from the comic which really should’ve also been scenes in the television show.

To be clear, I like the show. I do. I think despite complaints to the contrary, the writing is pretty good, the direction is firm, and the actors do the job given to them quite well.

But that last episode was beyond wobbly. With one fell swoop they just swept mystery (and in some ways, hope) right under the rug. Got too science-fictiony right there at the end. And we gained no resolution, and no meaningful character information, and it felt like a really flat way to end it — it was already sad to have a six-episode season, a stunted withered fruit of  thing, and now they had to go and cock it up with that? Yes, I get it, they went out with a big boom as far as the action sequence goes, but we really got no “big boom” in terms of character.

I’ll stay with the show — it’s still a show infinitely stronger than most genre television. I just wish they could harness some of the strength of the comic book instead of leaving it by the wayside.

Oh, Obama

Hard not to feel like we got a president whose steel spine was actually more like a hollow cardboard tube, the kind that holds wrapping paper. Wrapping paper he might’ve used to wrap up the lovely tax victory present he gave to the Republicans earlier this week.

Andrew Sullivan thinks it was actually a genius move, and I’m willing to see that maybe, just maybe, he’s playing the long con on this and is a lot savvier than we’re giving him credit for, but even still, I may be naive but I would feel a lot better having a present who stood up for the people directly rather than doing so quietly by playing backroom (“backdoor?”) politics.

Discuss.

Links, Links, Linkity-Links

Aaron Sorkin takes down Sarah Palin for hunting on her faux-reality show. (I agree with his assessment of her, but I don’t agree with his assessment of hunting.)

Crazy incredible photos from Rio’s Drug War — the recent assault on the drug gangs in the favelas makes for a powerful array of photography.

Anybody played Fighting Fantasy: City of Thieves? (It’s an app.)

DO NOT CLICK THIS LINK. No, really. As one poster called it, “NSFL,” Not Safe For Life. Really. I’m warning you. Don’t click it. But if you do click it, make sure to watch all the way to the end.

Finally, watch this magnificent speech from Bernie Sanders about the war against the Middle Class in America. Then, when you’re done, pass it around.

Irregular Creatures

So, I think it’s fairly official — I’m doing a Kindle collection. It will be titled Irregular Creatures, as each of the stories contained within the collection features, well — do I really need to explain it? Critters. Off-kilter, strange, dwelling-at-the-fringe critters. The plan is loosely to have something up and ready by Christmas, but I make no promises as I am almost literally buried under work (which is a good thing).

The plan is also to be fairly transparent about the whole thing: I intend to publicly document my experiences, my sales, my numbers, just so you have an idea of what you’d be getting into if you ever decide to jump into just such a process. I have literally zero idea what to expect, and that’s okay by me.

I did up three mock covers — you’ll note that the third is far more grisly and demonstrates that I was maybe planning on calling the thing “Hangnails,” but really, the stories contained within just aren’t that gory. A couple of ‘em maybe, but really I’ve move away from the straight-up horror I wrote in younger years. The three covers here are hasty — I Photochopped them together in about 30 minutes a pop, so.

Are they any good? Ehhh. Not great — which is why I’ve got somebody doing a cover for me. I won’t announce it officially until she wants me to, but I’m pretty guldurn excited about her work.

Keep your grapes peeled.

Does Character Trump Everything?

I kind of feel like character matters more than just about anything.

If I care about a character, everything else can fall by the wayside. A great character can still be compelling even in a boring world — hell, you might even stick with a great character in an otherwise unengaging story. But the reverse isn’t too true: a boring character in a compelling world or an engaging story just won’t keep you (or, me, at least) reading.

I’m wondering if that’s maybe the approach to take when concocting new stories — think of the character first. Envision a killer character and (hopefully) all will follow. I did that with my novel, Blackbirds, with the character of Miriam Black, and from the character sprang the story. What I’ve been doing after that has held the reverse to be true. And I wonder if that’s a mistake.

It’s an interesting question. Thoughts?

PWS On Hold?

For the next couple months I’m thinking of putting Painting With Shotguns on hold — not because I don’t love it but because by gosh and by golly, I just plain don’t have the time. (Plus, PWS actually poaches blog ideas from myself — each micro-installment inside Painting With Shotguns could and perhaps should make its own blog post somewhere. It’s like I’m stealing food from my own mouth. And punching myself in the solar plexus to spit it back up. Or something. I don’t know, don’t judge me.)

Anybody got a problem with that?

Lincoln, Lincoln, I’ve Been Thinkin’, What The Hell Have You Been Drinkin’?

Links! For you, my pretties.

Here, then, are Six Animals That Just Don’t Give A Fuck.

Richard Dansky (a brilliant gent) would like to speak to you About That Crap You’re Reading And The Brilliant Stuff He Likes.

Aaron Dembski-Bowden provides you with “I’ll Stab You In The Face: An MMO Guide.“

Monsters: A Film Made By Five People And A Laptop.

Interview with Steve Weddle, He Of Oscar Martello, He Of The Needle.

Jaw-dropping photography over at National Geographic.

Rise Of The Kindle Collection

As you may have noticed yesterday, hey! I’m going to start putting together a short story collection in e-book format — first on Kindle and then, to the moon. Or, alternately, to other devices.

At present, I think it’ll have — *does a quick tally* — nine short stories for a total of about, mmm — *does another quick tally, math makes head almost asplode* — 35-40k word count.

If the Kindle formatting will allow it (and it may just be too damn hard to make it work), I might also put a screenplay in there, which is an adaptation of the longest story in the book (“Dog-Man and Cat-Bird”).

I also might write a new short story for the collection. Been hankering to get my hands around the lead character of my novel, Blackbirds, Miriam Black again. Be nice to find a short story where I can intro her to the world at large without having to wait for a publisher to purchase the novel. (Right? Publishers? Purchase the novel? It’s inevitable, surely? Surely? *sob*)

What would you pay for that?

Also have to noodle a cover and, the hardest part, a title.

Short story collections either have totally kick-ass titles or, sadly, kind of dull titles. A great one is Bradley Denton’s One Day Closer To Death, a collection I adore so deeply it hurts me in my bones. The double trick is to ensure that the collection title matches whatever cover I clumsily cobble together.

Punish Your Cauliflower

Your cauliflower has been bad. Thus is is time to whip it.

C’mon, let’s be honest. Cauliflower’s sort of a dopey vegetable. A big head of cauliflower looks like an old lady’s perm, a perm shellacked with a hard coating and turned into something approximating “LEGO Hair.” Sure, you might think, “I could bowl a strike with this. I could probably bludgeon an interloper with this. I could use it as a doorstop. But eat it? Get real.”

You must injure the cauliflower to make it edible. You must punch it in its shellacked perm.

You must whip the unmerciful fuck out of it.

But you can’t just, y’know, do that. You’ve got to build up to that level of punishment.

First: a trip to the veggie sauna. Chop it into florets and stick those bastardy bits into a pot with a steamer tray (or, if you possess no steamer tray, then go ahead and build a platform with the cauliflower’s own stubborn stemmy bits) and steam it for 8-10 minutes in an inch of water (with a dash of salt). Make sure they’re fork tender but not “fall-apart tender,” okay? You go that far, you’ve just ruined the whole thing. And that makes Kitchen Jesus sad, and when Kitchen Jesus is sad, he makes everything wonderful taste like library paste. And also, he’ll kill and cook a baby panda.

Second, drain, and pat those cauliflower bits down. Dry ‘em as best as you can manage. No lingering puddles of moistness. (I’m sure there’s a joke in there about “moistness,” but I’ll let you reach for it.)

Back into the pot. Another sprinkling of salt and now, pepper. Take out your PAIN STICK (also known as “immersion blender”) and blend it into a mashed yet still chunky cauliflower goop. And if you tell me, “Chuck, I don’t have an immersion blender,” then I will kick you square in the teats. I will in fact kick each teat in tandem. Go out and buy yourself an immersion blender, they’re like, ten bucks or something.

Now, it’s time to fatten the goose. Into the goopy white slurry you will add: a 1/4 cup of creme fraiche (or sour cream), 1/4 cup of cream cheese, 2 TBs of butter.

Blend again. Whip it until it cries for mercy.

I like mine with still a little chunk factor (“Chunk Factor” was my nickname at Fat Camp), but your mileage may vary. If you find that it’s too thick, add in heavy cream until it becomes the desired consistency.

Last thing: stir in a 1/4 cup of chopped green onions and/or chives.

Now, eat it. Enjoy its misery. Delight in the punishment.

Words With Friends (And Other iPad Apps I Love So Much)

Words With Friends was on sale this weekend (along with 80 billion other apps — seriously, was a good weekend to buy apps), and I went ahead and purchased it. Now, if I have it correct, I am involved in approximately 243,956 games of WWFHD, and dang, it’s awesome. (And dang, I’m not that great at this game. But that’s okay.)

I recommend it mightily.

I am, on that game, terribleminds. Though, once more I advise you: I am locked in mortal wordmonkey combat with a billion other combatants, so don’t expect my responses to be zippity-quick.

I am also enjoying: Cut The Rope, Plants Versus Zombies, the Pulse News Reader, and Super 7 HD. Have but haven’t tried Springpad yet. But Note Hub is kind of intriguing — further testing needed.

Also, after a suggestion from the mighty Rob Donoghue, I’m considering a magazine subscription with Zinio. They’re pretty well-priced. Anybody use it? Like anything in particular? Gimme a shout.

Am always taking cool app suggestions.

Suggest away.

Don’t make me bludgeon you with a head of cauliflower.

Hunger Games

Not much to say here except, whoa.

Listen, I’m very hard on fiction. I open a book, I’m immediately squinty-eyed, narrowing my gaze with suspicion. But I went ahead and bought the box set of the Hunger Games collection because it was El Cheapo at Amazon, and I got them the other day, and on a lark I cracked the first book. Before I knew what had happened, 30 pages were gone. Just — whoof, gone. More specifically, my time was lost. I felt like I’d been abducted. I was experiencing temporal distortion. The book ate my brain that fast. It’s a fast read in an inventive, grim, and compelling world. Characters are great.

I’m into it.

Fascinating tidbit, though — it’s a “Young Adult” title, yes, but if you made this into a film, I suspect it’d have to work very hard to skirt an R-Rating. Go figure.

Internet Sausage Links

I love this post by Julie Summerell about Black Friday.

I have lost hours of my life laughing at Damn You Autocorrect.

If you ever want to look for app deals, check out Appshopper.

And that’s the bell.

It’s A Weird Time To Be A Writer

First, the whole James Frey Full Fathom Five contract comes to light, revealing (for me) the weird world of book packaging. (Want more info? “Ask Daphne About Book Packagers!” Click that link, please.) Then, it turns out that Amazon is going to begin its own… uhhh, crowd-sourcing film development studio thingy. Where you could, as a newbie screenwriter, maybe have a new way into the industry. Then, finally, you get this Hollywood Reporter roundtable discussion (video) where Todd Phillips and Aaron Sorkin tear into the Writer’s Guild… while the Writer’s Guild president sits there, mute.

My broad strokes comment is that writers are sort of always the low man on the totem pole. Screenwriters rarely get lauded the same way as directors. Television writers are generally even given even less appreciation. Novelists are sadly, ultimately niche (and don’t generally make a ton of money off their works). You write a comic or a novel, you’re essentially providing a fertile R&D ground for the film and television industry. If you’re a freelancer, you’re essentially just a soldier crawling through the mud and the blood in the trenches. Covered in the gore of your comrades.

As such, nobody will endeavor to protect the writer because, ehhhh, nobody really cares all that much about writers to begin with. It’s an overdramatization, but not necessarily inaccurate.

Writers should do whatever it takes to protect themselves. Get an agent. Check in with a guild. Talk to people. Find some answers. The community is there for just such a reason.

Mind you, I’m not saying some risk doesn’t carry the potential for reward. In short strokes, Frey’s contract sounded like it could payoff huge. But deeper drill-downs reveal how twisted that contract was away from the writer’s own benefits (essentially allowing FFF to get out of paying the writer the meat and potatoes of the money owed).

Amazon’s thing is a whole other enchilada of weirdness. Again, it might be worth it for upcoming writers, but dang, crowdsourcing films before they get made? Listen, I don’t actually believe democracy is the best arbiter of art. I think it has its place, and that place is in the marketplace with finished products. But the reality is, I don’t think people know what they want until they get it (in terms of film, book, television, and so forth). If crowdsourcing was the primary mode of filmmaking, would we ever have a Midnight Cowboy? A Hurt Locker? Might the Dark Knight be too dark? What about Straw Dogs? Or Let the Right One In?

Finally, the WGA kerfuffle. Sorkin’s position seems to be coming from a fairly… elite and elevated roost, which damages his argument. An argument that might have validity, I dunno.

Again, it’s a weird time to be a writer.

It’s why it confounds me that any of us even want to be writers. And yet we do.

Writers may be very intelligent, but we’re perhaps not very smart.

The Walking Dead Is Only Six Episodes?!

I know, I know. I just found out. I’m a little slow.

But seriously — six episodes?

That’s not a season. That’s a mini-series.

Pssh. Pff! Feh. Color me disappointed, AMC. Though — though — to play Devil’s Advocate, it is a pretty grim goddamn show. It’s not happy. It’s not triumphant. It does not fill you with the warm and gigglies, and rather, fills you with a sense of human disgust and uncertainty. If the show goes in even roughly the same direction as the comic, it’s just a slow slide into Miserytown for these characters. (I actually had to quit reading the comic. It became so ceaselessly grim with zero counterbalance that I could no longer stomach the way it treated its characters.) So maybe a short first season is a good way to go, I dunno.

I do hear that the second season could be 13 episodes.

I will say it’s interesting to see that a show this popular has many detractors. Not a bad thing, mind you — I have complaints about the show myself, but for the most part find it a fairly elegant and well-put-together show, if a little hasty with logic and character motivation. It’s interesting, though — the more popular something becomes, the louder its detractors become, too. Not a good or a bad thing: just a thing.

Consider the Beatles news the other day. Blahblahblah, the Beatles are on iTunes — fine, whatever, pbbt, it’s long past due. A car brand wouldn’t advertise, “Now with CD players!” because the rest of the automobile world already has CD players in the cars and has since — *checks math* — the year 1879, by my calculations. I get it, the announcement is kind of a non-announcement in terms of What Should Be News.

Still, it then seemed to become this thing where suddenly the Beatles themselves were… mysteriously under fire, which is kind of insane. It’s no surprise and it’s certainly not new, but “I Don’t Like This” fast turns into “This Sucks,” which is fine. I’m sorry, I didn’t finish my sentence — it’s fine if you’re five years old. Otherwise, grow up and enter the “we can discuss things like mature primates” realm, if you please. Am I a huge Beatles fan? Hardly. Some songs still stick with me in powerful ways, but overall I can’t say I hunger for their music. But I can still recognize that they have a very fundamental place in rock-and-roll history. (And yes, the Beatles were rock-and-roll.) It’s like taking a classical music class and being all like, “Yeah, Mozart sucked.” Do you really mean that? He sucked? Don’t you actually mean, “Actually, I don’t much care for his work, but horses for courses?”) I don’t particularly enjoy watching The Battleship Potemkin, but I’m smart enough to recognize that it is a fundamental piece of cinema. I’m not all like, “Pshhh, Eisenstein was a talentless hack. Whaddadouche!”

I know, I take potshots at Jane Austen. I kid, though — I still consider her a fundamental novelist.

Of course, it cuts both ways. You say, “I don’t really like this,” and suddenly people are all up in your shit as if you insulted them personally, as if they are the Beatles, or the Walking Dead, or Star Wars or some shit.

What I’m trying to say is, let’s all take off our diapers and discuss art and pop culture like it isn’t subject to some kind of false dichotomy of Awesome versus Suck. Put on your Big Boy Pants.

The Damage Done: An Itty-Bitty Review-Flavored Snidbit

Man, Hilary Davidson looks so nice. She’s very sweet. All smiles and big bright eyes. But make no mistake: she’s demented. She’s got a whole twisted brain under that hair of hers, and that twisted brain isn’t just concerned with your murder, but how to make your murder as tangled and iniquitous as humanly possible. Hilary Davidson is an engineer of sin, deception, and madness.

What I’m saying is, I got stuck at the car dealership the other day and sprinted through the last half of The Damage Done on the ol’ iPad. I won’t spoil anything, except to give you the fundamental setup: woman comes home thinking her sister has died, but she swiftly discovers that the corpse they find in the apartment is not her sister but has been masquerading as her sister. And oh, her sister is missing.

And you have no idea, I assure you, of where it’s going. It is delightfully Hitchcockian.

Go now and purchase, my little word-hungry varmints.

Lancelot Links, Secret Chimp

High Security, Low Bother. On the Israelification of US Airports.

The Nazi Invasion of North America has begun!

The Seven Deadly Rings. And also, the Seven Deadly Drinking Glasses.

Finally: Joe Lansdale (hisownself) talking noir over at the ever-excellent Mulholland Books site.

Kid-Toucher Writes Book, Internet Shits Its Pants, News At 11

So, yesterday, some foul scumhole self-published a book that was essentially the “best practices for practicing pedophiles” book. He seems to think the book is about creating “safe pedophilia” but is really about being a turd-of-the-earth kid-toucher without getting caught.

The Internet, predictably and perhaps appropriately, acted like a kicked-over anthill.

I figure, “Hey, I’m on the Internet!” Why not devote a few words toward it? Why not contribute my own crazy ant dance?

(Never mind the fact that the search terms on this site will probably get double-vile for a time. Ugh.)

Listen, here’s the deal. What this brings to light, for me, is that people don’t necessarily understand the nature of freedom-of-speech and censorship — and by “people” I do include myself in that department. The rising call to boycott Amazon, and Amazon’s subsequent defense (and then, if the story holds true, removal) of the book is being paraded about as if this is censorship. Amazon does not or should not engage in censorship, blah blah blah. The guy has the right to freedom-of-speech, floo-de-doo.

Censorship and freedom of speech are the provenance of the government. Not retailers. A retailer is allowed to make a choice not to sell something without engaging in censorship or without violating one’s freedom of speech. They are not required to carry every book known to man. By denying the sale of this book (it remains unclear if that’s what they’ve done, yet), Amazon is not stepping on anybody’s rights. Not yours to buy it, not the kid-toucher’s to self-publish it. In fact, what they’re engaging in is exactly the system that allows Amazon to be such a huge deal in the first place:

Capitalism.

If the government tells you you can’t write something or you can write this but not this, that’s censorship. That may step on your own personal freedom-of-speech.

If Amazon says, “I won’t sell this,” that’s just good ol’-fashioned capitalism at work.

Some people are asking, “Why draw attention to this? What does this matter?”

It matters because, just as scumhole viledick kid-touchers can write books, those who don’t approve of such books are allowed to — even encouraged to in an active democracy! — protest. We can make a big stink and ensure that the marriage of democracy and capitalism works in our favor (rare though that may be). We can say, “We will exercise our freedom-of-speech to tell Amazon that we will vote with our voices and our dollars to not give money to a company that itself chooses to make profit by selling books about pedophilia.” We can make a loud fuss. We can stop spending our money there. We can write blog posts and tweets incensed about it and get other people riled up, too.

Sure, that confirms that democracy is the child of a mob mentality, but did you really believe differently? Democracy is the will of the mob. It’s just a way of making the mob’s desires more civil and systematic.

That’s what matters. That we can use our speech — our protected speech — to protest and make a fuss and stir boycotts and create civil disobedience. In fact, I wish we did that kind of thing more.

Oh, and for the record, I also have the freedom-of-speech to say that the fun-loving pedophile advocate should not be arrested. He should, however, have his dick shot off by a pellet rifle.

Why a pellet rifle? Why not a shotgun?

It’ll take hours.

Baby Momma Need Sweet Sweet Comfort (Foods)

In, “Creepiest transition ever,” if you missed the news earlier this week, we are having a baby — a fact that is both terrifying and exciting. As the wife is pregnant, she is caught in the throes of a raucous roller coaster of “morning sickness,” one of the most inappropriately-named symptoms of pregnancy ever (since, you know, it goes on all day and all night).

She has already manifested Pregnancy Supernose (she, like a shark, can smell certain odors from miles away) and she also has found herself and this household mired in Acquired Taste Syndrome, where her tastes are both unpredictable and imprecise.

One predictable taste, though, is that she’s totally into straight-up Mom-and-Pop comfort foods.

What does that mean? Well, we don’t know its exact boundaries, yet, but it includes things like: spaghetti and meatballs, macaroni and cheese, meatloaf, chicken noodle soup, hamburgers and hot dogs, etc. We are a couple that deeply enjoys ethnic food but for right now those tastes just aren’t on her tongue. Strong spices and smells agitate the Nausea Gnomes that have colonized her stomach and inner ear.

So, what I’m looking for?

Recipes.

Recipes for essential comfort foods. I mean that in general — I recognize that you may consider Chicken Korma a comfort food (I sure do), but that doesn’t qualify. Think: essential American home-cooking.

Whaddya got for me? Anything will help.

This Chicken Noodle Soup Recipe Will Explode Your Tongue All Over Your Brain

I did make chicken soup yesterday by cobbling together a handful of recipes, and for once, this soup didn’t suck rancid raccoon spit. I’ve never before made chicken soup that was genuinely tasty — it always felt bland, blah, shallow, hollow. But yesterday’s result was a round, full-tasting soup: savory and comforting.

You want to know what I did? Settle down, nerds. Here’s what I did.

I present another…

Recipe (With Profanity) –

The secret, I think, to good chicken soup is to stop fucking around and take the goddamn time to make it awesome. That means it’s a two-stage affair: first, you make the stock, second, you make soup using that stock. Actually, there exists a third stage, the stage where you detonate a delicious soup bomb in the mouths of those consuming your delectable creation, murdering them with the hot shrapnel of scrumdiddliciousness.

First stage? The stock.

Get a rotisserie chicken. A good one. Not some wan little greasy bird, but a clean, flavorful, healthy rotisserie chicken from the best supermarket you have nearest to your tin-roofed shantytown.

Strip the easy meat off of it. (“Easy Meat” was my nickname at soccer camp! True story!) By which I mean, don’t dick around getting all the really-hard-to-reach bits (“the nether meat”) off. Just get the breast and thigh meat and for fuck’s sake wipe off your hands because they’re all greasy. You disgust me.

Into a stock pot pour two quarts of store-bought chicken broth and kick up the heat on that motherfucker. Then drop the chicken into the pot — whoa whoa whoa, I didn’t say put the chicken meat into the pot. Slow down, meth-head. Set the meat aside and use the chicken itself. The part with the bones. Plop that into the broth, and then you’re going to want to bring some additional friends to the party:

Two carrots (choppity-chop), two… I dunno, what’s the technical word for “a unit of celery?” Rib? Wand? Rebar? Two rebars of celery (chopchopchop), one small onion, the green tops of three leeks, two cloves of garlic (roughly chopped, not minced), a bay leaf, a pinch of oregano, a pinch of thyme, a pinch of tarragon, a pinch of sage, and some crack black pepper (grind grind grind). No salt needed: the broth will have it.

Add additional water until the fluid levels are juuuust above the chicken. All wet yet?

Good. Simmer for 45 minutes.

A couple times during the process, skim the fat off with a spoon.

While this is happening, do not rest thine lazy ass. You’re not done, where did you think you were going? You thought you could head off into the other room, play some video games, maybe do a crossword, perhaps sullenly masturbate? Nuh-uh. You have work to do.

Peel and slice three carrots. Chop two batons of celery. Chop three leeks (not the green tops, which you already used). Bisect two cups of green beans (by which I mean bisect each bean, and discard the little jerkoff stemmy bit and — do I really need to explain this to you?). Chop one medium yellow onion. Dice two cups of the chicken meat (both light and dark) — you can save the rest for whatever infernal purpose tickles your loins. Please, just don’t tell me what tickles your loins. Shhh.

Bzzt, your buzzer is going off. Take the stock you just made and first remove the chicken carcass. Then strain the stock through a strainer or sieve into… well, some kind of clean receptacle. I used a bowl but you can use a football helmet. I don’t give a shit. Then, when the chicken corpse has cooled down, you want to pick it apart and rescue any lingering meat (“Lingering Meat” was my nickname in show choir. True fact!) from the bones and set them aside for, again, some other purpose. Whatever makes your grapefruit squirt.

Back to the stockpot. Wash it out, then back onto the range. In the pot goes four tablespoons of butter. Hey, I didn’t say we were making fat-free chicken soup, did I? Fat is flavor, motherfuckers. When that gets wet, throw your leeks and onions into the butter with a dash of salt and a few splashes of water (I literally cup one hand, get some water in the palm, and drop it in). Let them soften for five to ten minutes. When softened, throw the rest of your veggies into there for another five minutes. Let it cook down.

Now, add in the chopped chicken.

Also: another turn of crack black pepper and another dash of salt.

Pour the stock into the pot.

Turn it up, get it to boil. As you’re doing this, you need to add a couple things to kick it up a notch, to give it a rounder, fuller taste.

You’re going to add:

A 1/4 cup of heavy cream.

A splash of soy sauce (and/or Worcestershire sauce).

A meager squirt of Sriracha rooster sauce. If you don’t have this — well, shut up and go buy some.

Taste the proto-soup. You may need to add more salt, one dash at a time.

Stir. Lower heat, simmer its sexy ass for 45 minutes.

BZZZZ. Buzzer again. Goddamn that thing is loud, don’t you just want to kick it in its dumb buzzer face? I mean, for reals. Anyway, now it’s time for a few more final additions to the pot, baby:

Eight ounces of egg noodles. Dump ‘em in there.

With them? A pinch of oregano and a pinch of tarragon (again, yes). You can use fresh herbs for all of this, and I bet it’d be even more super-holy-shit-delicious, but I don’t lead a fancy life and don’t have fresh herbs just hanging around the house. I have mouths to feed. Namely, my own. Also, I’m lazy. Shut up. Dry herbs for now, fresh if you want to get froofy.

Cook for another 15 minutes.

And that’s it, ladies and motherfuckers. Chicken noodle soup.

With profanity. Please to enjoy.

Links In The Great Cosmic Chain

First and most importantly — congrats to John “The Hornor, The Hornor” Jacobs for nabbing a sweet-ass deal for Night Shade Books to publish his novel, SOUTHERN GODS. (Stacia described the book to me and it sounds apeshit awesome, so I really cannot wait to read it.) Go over to his bloggeryspace and congratulate his sexy ass.

Julie Summerell writes a bedtime story and it’s… well. Listen, do yourself a favor and just go check it out.  It features the phrase, “Boogeyman loves the taste of chicken.”

YAHOO ANSWERS FAIL.

Photobomb!

And finally, 18 Dogs That Look Like Chewbacca.

I Am Nothing If Not A Whore

And this whore has to seriously thank the mighty lot of you out there who have retweeted the ass out of my NaNoWriMo post (NaNoWhoNow?) — it’s come back around to me a couple times now, and if I track it right, we’re looking at several hundred retweets. Which is pretty nuts. You never really know when a post is going to go apeshit and catch fire (or be an apeshit ape who catches fire?), so it’s nice that once in a while my throwing knives are hitting dead center of the bullseye for some of you.

Also: “hello” to the many new followers who are keeping a vigilant eye on me via Twitter in case I do something dangerous to myself and others! Woooo!

Ahem.

Since clearly a great many of you are doing the NaNo thing (or is it the WriMo thing?), I’ll try to tweak my writing posts this month toward the joyous hell-climb that is “writing a goddamn novel.”

Alternately, you could quit NaNoWriMo and partake in any one of the following:

NaNoRemo: In which you spend the entire month writing fan-fic about Remo Williams.

NemoWrimo: In which you write a novel while submersed in a submarine. Be wary: you must also fight a giant squid. Hey, shit happens. And squids happen. And yes, squidshit happens.

NaNoReMo: National Novel Reading Month. I mean, hey, writing a novel is a pain in the dick. Quit that shit right now. Just read a book by somebody else. Much easier.  And so much more pleasant!

NanaMemaw: It’s national Hug Your Grandmother month! Awww! *vomits*

Feel free to come up with your own! It’s fun for the whole family.

Also, feel free to check out this fascinating Salon-dot-com article on NaNoWriMo: “Better Yet, Don’t Write That Novel.” Article critical of the process, says we should exalt readers instead of (in effect) producing a crap-ton of new writers writing books that nobody will read. (I think she makes some interesting points, but also succumbs to the false dichotomy that “writers” are somehow, mysteriously, not also readers.) Then you have an opposing viewpoint: “Ignore The Naysayers,” over at the LA Times.

Read ‘em both. Curious to hear your thoughts, you crazy kids.

Finally — hey, I said I was a whore — check out two posts of mine that speak to the, erm, life and psychology of the writer brain: “Beware Of Writer” and “Want To Be A Freelancer? Just Punch Yourself In The Face, Instead.” Both also seem to be posts that people have enjoyed, so hey, I posit that you may enjoy them equally. Also. Too. Indeed. I could really drink more coffee. Coffee would help.

Fallout: New Vegas (And Other Gamery Goodness)

Due to a recent Target and Amazon sale, I went ahead and reached out with greasy mitt and procured a number of video games, clearly under the impression that I a) have time to play video games and b) enjoy playing games as much as I used to (weirdly, I don’t). Still, I cannot resist a two-fer, and both had two-for-one sales that could not be denied.

One of the games picked up? Fallout: New Vegas.

I heard that they had an update which fixed 200+ major bugs, so I decided it was okay to open ‘er up and start playing. Anybody else doing so? Enjoying it so far, but also finding it to be a less exciting experience than the previous iteration. Part of it, I recognize, is that this game has no way of replicating that sense of “newness” found in the first one, but even still, some things just don’t quite tickle my pink parts.

For one, the story isn’t as immediately compelling — Fallout 3 showed you life in the vault, then stole it from you. This just dumps you into a world and offers you incredibly low stakes. “Ehh. Some guys killed you, except they didn’t, and you don’t know them, and really, who gives a ding-dang-doo?” I feel no great impetus in this game to do anything, and so all I do is wander. Which is fun in its own way, but I don’t know that it’s particularly engaging, either.

Then, the graphics don’t always seem as tip-top (the guns look like toys, and sometimes I mysteriously seem to carry the rifle up above my shoulder? that must be a bug), and the music just isn’t as batshit awesome as the first game. While I do like Wayne Newton as Mister New Vegas, I still miss Three Dog, and I miss the hoppy poppy Big Band music. The game also seems particularly obsessed with playing “Big Iron” by Marty Robbins all the damn time. Every other song is this song. Yes, I know the notches on his pistol blah blah blah, I know big iron on his hip, I know. I get it. Play some different music. Where’s my Danny Kaye, goddamn you? I get that they’re going for that mournful cowboy vibe at times, but man, I really loved having a jazzy old pop tune absurdly carrying me through some Wasteland murder spree.

I don’t want to give the impression that I’m not enjoying the game. I absolutely am — but it just isn’t really grabbing me by the nipples and taking me for a twirl, yet. You know?

Also, for those who play Borderlands, I got my copy coming. Should be here by this weekend.

Whistle While You Work, Hitler Was A Jerk

I have some news, but I really can’t share it yet. So, thbbth on you. I just signed a big contract for a big something-or-other, and I picked up some more work for the illustrious Eddy “The Evil Doctor” Webb, and I’m also currently gestating the biggest project of my life. So, be assured that I’ll babble about these when I’m given the go-ahead by my penmonkey masters.

You will notice that our transmedia project, HiM, is going back to Sundance — this time as Pandemic 1.0, part of the Sundance New Frontier selection. I can’t tell you much about it except what’s already blurbed:

Pandemic 1.0 is a transmedia storytelling experience that spans film, mobile, online, real-world, social gaming and data visualization. Over the course of the festival the story will unfold enabling viewers / players to step into the shoes of our protagonists. The story experience starts when a mysterious sleep virus begins to affect the adults in a small rural town, the youth soon find themselves cut off from civilization and fighting for their lives. Will they survive? Can you survive?

So, that’s pretty exciting. And we have some other big stuff cooking around the experience (not limited to the film itself, which will see draft 8.7 dropping sometime tomorrow).

Links Instead Of Patties

The McGurk Effect is insane and will break your already broken brain.

Funny article about the Return of the McRib.

Gareth-Michael Skarka’s Tour de Bond is live, live, live. Like James Bond? Make with the clickyclicky.

Eddy Webb’s Tour de Holmes (Sherlock Holmes, baby) is also live, live, live. Tappity-clicky, too.

And that’s all she wrote, nerdlingers.

You will notice: no headers today. It’s just me. Exploding my brainmeats all across your screens in this relatively short housekeeping post.

Ready to get into it? Let’s kick out the jams.

Does anybody say that anymore? “Kick out the jams?”

They don’t, I imagine. But they should! I bet you could get mad tail if you spun such linguistic mystery, weaving a cloak of so-called “jams” or even “jamz” around the ladies. Mmmm. Yeah.

What? Huh? Wuzza?

Right. Post.

First, yesterday I was lucky to be a part of Digital Book World’s Transmedia 101 (for authors and publishers). Thanks to Guy “The Dread Pirate LeCharles” Gonzalez for having me, and thanks to the other participants — Anita Ondine, Alison Norrington, and David Marlett — for putting up with my rambling mumbles. Anybody listen to it and follow along? Curious to hear your thoughts. I’ll reiterate here that, as an author, best thing I can tell you is that you should start figuring out if your work could benefit from a transmedia angle. Not all work does, but some work seems cut for it. Big companies aren’t really yet certain what transmedia even means, and so it is a value-add if you understand this and can bring something to the table. You may want to dismiss transmedia as both technique and philosophy. In fact: please do! Forget it even exists. Just lay your head down and go to sleep. Sleeeeeep. Shhhh. Shhh. Let other people handle the transmedia fun. *strokes hair* *duct tapes you to the recliner* Shhh.

Second, hey, last week, got to go on set and watch something I helped write be filmed. Totally killer. Everything was all, “Jib! Dolly! Rack focus!” Really neat, glad to have seen it in action.

Third, that pitch I sent off came back with a thumbs-up. When I have more news, I’ll share.

Fourth and finally…

VACATION HELL.

*crash of thunder*

Got a bunch of great entries for the VACATION HELL flash fiction thing over here at terribleminds. We have 21 different entries, which is exciting stuff. Want to know how this is going to work?

Here’s how.

I’m going away at the end of this week, but I’m going to start posting stories tomorrow. One a day at first, but toward the end, it’ll ramp up to two a day. I’m not going to post them in any particular order.

The stories will likely post around midnight of each day. Hot, fresh and ready for your eyeholes.

Please feel free to crosspost your stories. Obviously my preference is that you crosspost at or around the same time they end up here, but that’s your bag. I don’t own these stories, you do.

At the end, upon my return, I’ll set up a poll — everybody can vote on their favorites. Most votes gets a prize: a roleplaying book (I’ll also add into that a copy of Bones, the book about dice edited by the gents at Gameplaywright), a copy of Needle (by the lads Weddle and Hornor) or a future copy of Beauty Has Her Way, a short story collection which will feature a tale of mine.

Now.

I’ll be gone for a couple moons.

I’ll still blog from time to time whilst out there in the wilds of San Francisky and Poipu (which makes my 12-year-old brain say “Poopoo”). I also have some blogs set to automagically appear whilst I’m gone, but still, some degree of live-blogging the trip is on the agenda. I’ll be doing it entirely from Ye Olde iPad, so, uhh, hopefully that doesn’t suck. After all, our housesitter will only be watching the house. That person will not also be hired as a “blogwatcher.” I still must suffer that eternal duty.

Doody.

Heh.

See? 12-years-old.

Anyway.

I will also be posting photos taken with the iPhone along the way. I’ll probably post these to Tumblr rather than Flickr, but Flickr will be the eventual home of my “nicer” (DSLR) shots.

My Tumblr is riiiiiiight here.

For the record, I don’t know how the hell I ever lived without Hipstamatic.

So. What say you, folks?

Any last minute travel advice?

Will you miss me? (Oh, pish, I’ll still be on them Twitters.)

Anybody going to be at Bouchercon? (Wife and I land in San Francheesy on Friday afternoon. Will miss the first portion of the B-Con, sadly, but so it goes. Couldn’t make it work otherwise.) I know some of Team Decker will be there, and excited to meet you crazy peeps. Also: Mister Blackmoore shall be in attendance, so I hear. Equally exciting. Who else do I need to see? Sound off.

In Which I Watch The Jiggle Of The Boob (Tube)

It is the new TV season.

I demand to know what you’re watching, what you’re liking, and what you’re just not digging.

Me? Here’s my loose list.

Hawaii 5-0. Where the hell did this come from? I only watched it because I wanted to look at Hawaii. That was it. Going to be there soon and I was like, “Ehh, at least in HD it’ll be pretty.” The show’s more than pretty. It’s also pretty dumb. And yet, I love it. The rapport between the two leads is stellar. Scott Caan — normally an actor of whom I’m not a fan — is great in this. It’s exciting, like a big dumb action movie in Hawaii. Did I mention I’m geeked to go back to Hawaii? Squee. Squee, I said.

Raising Hope. I really like this show, but I’m afraid it’s destined to fall off my schedule. Hell, it already has. It’s funny. It’s cute. It’s sweet. It’s dark. (Pilot episode, the mother of the baby that our clueless protagonist ends up with is electrocuted in the electric chair. And the father and baby watch. Whoa.) But it’s also just that far over the line into “it’s so quirky!” It feels like a Malcolm in the Middle and My Name Is Earl mash-up (apropos since the creator is Earl’s, too). Which means, I feel like I’ve seen this before. Or, at least, felt this brand of quirk-stained comedy. Stand-out of this show is Martha Plimpton. Will that bring me back to it? I dunno. Maybe on DVD.

The Event. Wildly waffles for me. On the one hand, I’m intrigued as to the larger plot. On the other hand, the way that plot has been carried out so far feels a wee bit clumsy, like it’s trying too hard to be Lost with its bouncing-back-and-forth-in-time. Here, though, that bounce feels arbitrary, where on Lost it at least felt bound to thematic moments. Still. I like Jason Ritter’s character. And I dig his story. The presidential angle, though, is dull as paste. And that square-jawed lady from ER does not help me care at all about these… aliens? Time travelers? AI constructs? Polar ice monkeys? Show is dangerously on the bubble for me.

Running Wilde. *poop noise* Thumbs-down! Ahem. Sorry. It’s kind of funny at times, but I just don’t believe Will Arnett as a semi-somewhat sympathetic lead. His character’s just too much of a spoiled dipshit for me to care? Again: funny. Just don’t care. If this is the show that represents the legacy of Arrested Development, well, that’s sad for all of us. It makes Baby Jesus strangle a panda.

Outsourced. Ehhh. Mmnnnh? Guy goes to India to lead a team of clueless Indian telemarketers for an American novelty company? Cute idea. Just isn’t doing it for me. Ain’t no Parks and Recreation. If I could sign a document outlawing laugh tracks, I’d do it.

Better With You. Funnier than I thought, but laugh tracks make me want to stab out my eyes and shove them in my ears. Nothing more comedy-destroying than fake laughs enforced by some crazy robot somewhere.

Kind of a lame new season of TV. I watched the first ten minutes of No Ordinary Family, and it… ehhh. I like the players, but in the first five minutes the family flies to Brazil, gets into a terrible plane crash where the pilot dies, then come home and brush it off like — “Nah, that wasn’t traumatic. Back to work and school!”

I am of course watching some of the old standards: House, Community, 30 Rock, Cougar Town, Modern Family. Modern Family and Community remain two of the funniest comedies I’ve ever seen (and 30 Rock continues to knock it out of the park). If you haven’t seen the paintball episode of Community, you are dead to me. Dead to me. *draws thumb across throat in threatening gesture*

iPad Thai

The iPad workflow continues to evolve.

The TwelveSouth Compass stand is, as the kids say, the tits. The Otterbox Commuter case is rugged, but not so rugged it feels like I’m carrying a military field radio. And it fits on the Compass quite snug.

The iPad camera connector dongle (hee! dongle!) supposedly does not work with any other USB devices. When you plug one in, it even confirms this: “This Shit Won’t Work With This Other Shit,” it tells you. And then, lo and behold, the lie is easily discovered as the device works.

I have a keyboard hooked up to the device — means I don’t need to buy a (somewhat expensive) bluetooth keyboard and can type on the iPad full-bore, full-stop. This is the setup, if’n you care:

It’s pretty great. Makes it a viable writing machine. Interested to hear people’s experiences with various writing apps — right now, it’s PlainText for me (free, syncs with Dropbox), but happy to take suggestions.

Other apps I’m digging?

Pulse News: A nice news and feed aggregator. Handles blog feeds and news reels pretty well.

Index Card: Hard not to see the appeal of this as a writer. Great for creating on-the-fly plots.

Urbanspoon and OpenTable: No Yelp or Chowhound apps as yet, so these are nice ways to find new restaurants and, with the latter, make reservations online. This is the great thing about apps — often, they’re far better than the web experiences themselves. Huge thumbs-up.

Photo Cookbook: Prettiest. Cookbook app. Ever.

Weather HD: Prettiest. Weather app. Ever.

I should also make special note that when I commented on the ComiXology app the other day (and specifically noting the problems I was having it), they contacted me to see if they could help. Which is pretty darn cool. Plus sign in their column.

Workity-Jerkity-Boo

Today’s a pretty exciting day. I got news this morning that a pitch of mine may have done its job and earned me some work (but I can’t talk about that) and later today I’m going to drive up and go onto a film set of a thing I may very well have helped to write (but I can’t talk about that).

I’m currently banging away word count on the Werewolf Chronicler’s Guide, and having a lot of fun doing that. Hopefully when I have fun, you have fun. Or something.

Always on the hunt for work, but happy to be where I’m at.

Man, that was a pretty vague update.

THINGS ARE HAPPENING.

CAN’T SAY WHAT.

NEWS AT 11.

Pbbt.

Chain Link Fence

From KidLit, a blog talking about a writing no-no that I do all the damn time: “The Four Horsemen of the Proseocalypse.” (About how you describe the physicality of emotions in narrative.)

What killed the honeybees? Boom. Fungal-virus tag-team.

Matt Taibbi’s truth behind the Tea Baggers.

Once again John “The Horror, The Horror” Hornor knocks it out of the park with a cover he designed for an upcoming anthology, Terminal Damage. (Which makes me wonder: is this an anthology I’m in? Uhh, it might be? Did it sell? What happened? Where are my pants?)

Douglas Rushkoff talks up a little Collapsus over at Boing Boing.

The White House would like to talk to you about the tax cuts for rich people.

And finally, one of the most beautiful insect macro photos I’ve ever seen. Incredible.

I Will Make Love To My iPad In Full View Of The Internet

As college buddy and old friend Rob Spidle said yesterday, “I seriously love the little iFucker.”

He’s right. It’s true. Lot to love about the iPad. Only had it a few days, but it’s hard not to see how natural it feels in the hand. Also easy to see is that it’s not just “a big iPhone.” Faster processor, bigger screen, super-crazy multi-touch, it all adds up to an experience you cannot achieve on the phone.

I ordered a case and a stand yesterday. Case: Otterbox Commuter. Stand: TwelveSouth’s Compass. Also ordered: the iPad camera connector (which if I hear right, sometimes allows other external USB devices). I did want one of the nicer more “book-like” cases, and one day I may still get one for local around-the-house hey-I’m-cool-in-coffeehouses use. But I need something right now that’s going to travel well and let me use this as a laptop replacement, something that lets me pull photos off my camera, something that protects it from my clumsiness, something that props it up for typing (going to try the straight-up on-screen typing).

Not sure about getting a stylus. I may, given some of the apps I have since procured.

Speaking of apps! Mmm. Apps. Let’s talk apps.

Flipboard: Is the first thing that really wow’ed me about the iPad. Takes social media feeds and throws them into a magazine format. It feels so natural, looks so spare and elegant, a total win. (And apparently, Jon Virtes, Flipboard’s community manager, is into RPGs?)

PlainText: Another great free app. Very simple straight-up text editing (aka “writing”) that syncs with DropBox as text files. A nice little way to take notes on the fly and know that they’re safe in the cloudosphere.

FlickStackr: Since Flickr doesn’t have an official iPad app (boo, boo, hiss, hiss), and it’s nice to see Pretty Photos Made Big, I went with this. Clean, works nice, good display, nothing really too fancy.

The Many Comic Apps: It is my opinion that the iPad’s destiny is as a comic reader. Holy crap what a beautiful experience. Clean, bright, can be read page by page or (dramatic) panel by panel. My only concern is the price point of the comics. For back issues, you generally pay $1.99. It’s a little much. If I were to buy one of the middle trades of The Walking Dead, I could buy it for $10.19 (Vol. 10, f’rex, comprises issues #55 – 60, or six total issues, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60.) But if I were to buy the six comics online, I’d pay $12.00. And have nothing to show for it, by which I mean, no physical comic book. So, I don’t buy. But! If those comics were $1.50, or better, $0.99, I’d buy the hell out of them. To clarify, at $1.99, I buy none. A buck cheaper, I buy tons. A reasonable attitude? Maybe not, but there it is. I don’t mind having non-physical music or software (or films) because those things were always non-physical. (Plus, an MP3 album remains generally cheaper than the physical counterparts and I can easily put them onto physical media.) A book or comic book has long been married to the physical experience — I take it, I put it on my shelves, I read it. I don’t have to worry that a software bug in my “book-reading app” will steal my book away. MP3s don’t have that problem. I can go and see the actual files — something I can’t always do with ebooks or e-comics. I also don’t have to worry that my physical books will one day need to be deleted to make space. Given away, maybe. Or maybe I buy new shelves. Or I trade the book with a buddy. But at no point do I “delete” the book. Does that make sense? Therein lurks my inherent distrust of e-books and e-comics, and the thing that gets me over that distrust (or further confirms it) is the price point. Jiminy Jack Jeebus that turned into a rambling rant, didn’t it? Oof. Anyway. Eager to hear your thoughts.

Corkulous: A moderately wacky fun “corkboard” program in which you can create to-do lists, post-it notes, taped comments, photos, contact information and even other corkboards (!). Inventive stuff. One thing clearly missing? String (“lines”) used to connect the various parts. That simple inclusion would allow me to create, effectively, mindmaps and outlines on a digital corkboard.

Popplet: A perhaps overly cutesy but still nicely effective… what? Visualization device? Can create mindmaps very easily, mindmaps that feature quick little drawings, text, even photos. But you could use it to create photo albums, too, or other interesting visual displays. Easy as hell to use, too.

Note Taker HD: This app is pretty wacky, and I think, I think, I love it. It’s a handwriting note-taker. You just… use your finger (or a stylus, but I don’t have one of those yet — anybody use one?) and take notes. You can take them big or small, you can change the pen size, you can export your handwritten notes to PDF, you can even write over PDFs you import (I think). It’s nice because my handwriting is awful, and here it looks no more awful than it already did. Huzzah.

Anyway. That’s what I got right now, but you can check out Rob Donoghue’s very awesome blogpost about the many super-duper things you can do with your iPad.

All is not perfect in the iPad world, mind. The wi-fi seems to occasionally suffer inexplicable slowdown. Sometimes zippy-quick. Other times it takes like, a minute or two to pull up a single email. (I know, I know, these are classic #firstworldproblems.) The screen also gets smudgy with even minor use, and the glare can be a bit problematic, but one assumes I can fix those with a good screen protector.

Flash Fiction Challenge: Vacation Hell

Boo-bam. Flash fiction challenge reminder. You in? I know you’re in.

I’ve gotten entries so far from: Keith Karabin, Patrick O’Duffy, DeAnna Knippling, and Gloria Oliver. If I should have yours and it’s not listed, throw a comment into the comment box below.

Anyway, in case you need the challenge details once again…

1.) Write a 1000 words or less piece of flash horror fiction set in and around vacation or travel.

2.) Get me those 1000 words by Monday, October 11th. You can email me the story at chuckwendig [at] terribleminds [dot] com. Please ensure that I know who you are and what this is for, yeah?

3.) I’d like at least 14 total entries, but if more arise, hey, no problem there. The more the merrier.

4.) I do not own the stories, so you are free to cross-post on your blogs. My preference would be that you wait until the day of posting here, however, but that’s entirely on you. Again, I don’t own the stories.

5.) I will do a contest at the end of it — people can come, vote on their favorites. This means I will post the stories as they are — word goblins, spelling goobers, and punctuation poo-poo included.

6.) Winner gets either a free roleplaying book of mine, signed if you care; a copy of Beauty Has Her Way, an anthology from Dark Quest Books that contains a story of mine, “The Moko-Jumbie Girl;” or a copy of Needle #2, the killer noir magazine with stories from the likes of Stephen Blackmoore, Julie Summerell, Frank Bill, and Chris F. Holm. (Which I didn’t write, but hey, if I can pimp great writers, I’ll pimp great writers.) For the record, Beauty Has Her Way isn’t out yet, and I don’t know the release date, but it’s all done and the cover’s out in the wild now, so I imagine it’s not on a slow boat or anything.

7.) The contest prize portion is only available to people who live in, say, the 48 “upper” states of these United States. International participants can still try out, but hey, you gotta pay the shipping. I’ll pay the shipping if you’re in America, but anywhere else, the bill’s on you nerds.

Nnngh, Yeah Slut, Stuff That Squash, Part II (Now With Bacon!)

Way back when, I told you exactly what you could stuff in your squash. That isn’t a euphemism, nor is it a threat — I really mean, “Hey, Stick This Shit Into An Acorn Squash.”

Now, I’m going to tell you another thing you can shove into a squash.

Use any winter squash you like — I went with Sweet Potato Squash.

Halve it. Scoop out the seed guts. Place cut-side down on a cookie sheet filled with a leetle bit of water. Bake at 350 for 30 minutes.

While that’s doing its thing, it’s time to break out the motherfucking bacon. Half a pound of good applewood smoked bacon. Chop it into bits (inch by inch squares or thereabouts) and put it in a pan over medium-high heat. Cook until the fat renders out and it starts to get just a tad crispy. Then throw into the mix one sweet apple, diced. What? You’re mad because I didn’t tell you to dice that shit beforehand. Pshhh. Figure it out. Besides, what, are you cooking this right now as you read this? Stop that. That’s silly. Read the recipe first, then do your prep. C’mon.

Fine. Fine!

Dice an apple.

Then put the diced apple parts in with the bacon.

Cook until softened.

Throw into the pan: a Tbsp of butter, a light sprinkling of brown sugar, and a light sprinkling of breadcrumbs.

By now? Squash is done in the oven. Pull out. Ditch the scummy squash water. Turn squash halves so that they are gutted-side up, then into them you shall scoop the bacon and apple mix. Pop ‘em into the oven now for ten more minutes (still at 350) until the bacon starts to get dark, crispy edges and until your kitchen smells like the breath of an angel — an angel with wings of bacon and a shiny apple bosom.

While that shit’s doing that shit, grate a cup or so of cheddar cheese.

After the ten minutes are up, sprinkle that cheese over top the stuffed squash.

Back in the hot box for another five, ten minutes, until the cheese is bubbly and melty.

Ta-da.

Another stuffed squash recipe from yours truly. Please to enjoy.

Links

Great quote from Paulo Bacigalupi on writing:

“But mostly I sat down and said, I’m not going to write a boring story. And that actually, surprisingly, solves most of your problems. Don’t dick around too much in the weeds of, oh, gee, this character’s deep interiority or anything like that. Get it done and make this character do some stuff and make stuff explode. That seems to work pretty well.” From this interview over here.

EEEE SCRIVENER FOR WINDOWS.

Did you know that squirrels masturbate to prevent sexually transmitted diseases?

Or that, to inseminate their spider-ladies, spider-lads use a needle-sharp penis? (Thanks, ogasnor!)

Julie is writing about demon clowns.

Steve Weddle: “Help Wanted.”

And that’s all she wrote.