Just Write

Typospherian Interview: Richard Polt

2012-02-15T08:55:00.000-08:00

Richard Polt: if ever there were a typewriter guru, sittingatop a distant mountain peak, dispensing wisdom to those who would seek it, itis he. I mean, have you ever been toThe Classic Typewriter Page? If not, then you, friend, could do a lot worsethan a pilgrimage to Polt’s scibeomechanical Mecca. The entire breadth of losinterwebs contains no site better for both the neophyte and the OG typewriterenthusiast alike. Clever fixes for mechanical concerns? It has that. Typewriterhistory? It has that too. Custom-made typefaces based upon classic machines (like elegant Byron Mark II, as found in Pen and Platen)?You better believe it, friend. It’s a dang typewriter wonderland.

Which is to say nothing of the fact that Richard also runs afascinating blog by the name of Writing Ball, or that he writes fiction withsuch wit and alacrity that it makes lesser writers (Yours Truly included) tingeverdant with jealousy.

That said, we are honored to have Richard with us today toshed some light on the man that is he.

OK, so I’m just gonnadive right in with an old trope because you, as the quintessential purveyor oftypewriter data and lore about the ‘webs, are the most qualified to answer thefollowing: Standard desert island scenario. You have one machine to use for therest of your life. Which would you choose and why?

That’s an easy one, because I’m a sentimentalist: I’d takemy Remington Noiseless Portable #7. That’s my first typewriter. My dad boughtit for me at a garage sale when I was in junior high. My fascination with thatbeautiful, mysterious machine eventually developed into an incurable case ofsevere typewriter collecting. I still use it sometimes, and will always loveit, even though it doesn’t have much of a dollar value and it isn’t the machineI get the most sensory enjoyment from typing on.

I'd be happy just lookin' at it.

So now you’ll ask what the most enjoyable machine is. Myfeelings vary on this, and I’m still looking for the Perfect Typewriter, but Ifind myself coming back to my Royal KMM, Olivetti Lexikon 80, black Voss, Torpedo18, and the “Twolympia” -- an SM9 that I fit into the shell of an SM3. As youcan see, my answers are pretty personal, but that’s the great thing abouttypewriters: they’re our companions and they evoke our emotions.

By the way, I’m blushing at your praise of The ClassicTypewriter Page. It’s simply a case of snowballing: it’s been acquiringaccretions for 17 years now, so it has become fairly impressive. But the truthis that I often still feel like a newbie when I consult the encyclopedic booksabout typewriters or talk to collectors who’ve done tons of primary historicalresearch, understand mechanical engineering far better than I can, or have acrystal-clear memory for facts and figures. Nope, I’m no guru. [Editor's note: Richard is being toomodest. If I ran TCTP, I would forge a crown from ink ribbon tins and declaremyself King of Typing]

As you may havegauged from my effusive emails on the subject, your 2011 NaNoNovel, Gil is frighteningly, frighteningly good,and way too well-structured to have been composed off-the-cuff. How do youprepare for NaNo, and what is your compositional process?

I agree, it’s a fabulous story with perfect structure.That’s why I ripped it off. I’ve actually never read Gilgamesh, but I heard it once: I listened to it a couple of yearsago on a road trip and was blown away by its vivid power. It has stuck with mesince then. That’s the way to get a story under your skin, especially an oldstory from a heavily oral culture: hear it recited by a good performer.

It wouldn’t be hard to derive some abstract philosophicalpropositions from Gilgamesh, but whatI really wanted to do was tell the story myself, buy into it as a resonantmyth. I decided that would be my project for NaNoWriMo 2011. Since the plot wasfixed, I just concentrated on adding imaginative details. It came out as ananachronistic mashup with a little inspiration from Borges and Joyce, and some bitsthat I hope are funny. I feel that I learned by writing it, that I made thestory my own.

As an academic, I write nonfiction that has to be ascontrolled and clear as possible, but that is not the way to write fiction, Idiscovered--my imagination has to get absorbed in the scenes and stumble intothemes and patterns without focusing on them directly. The first time I triedNaNo, in 2008, I took a couple of pages of notes in advance, trying to work outthe plot. But after 22 pages of actual writing I felt the characters werewooden and the events were forced--it was a chore.

In 2010 I tried again, with only a general idea (“gettingaway from it all”) and a few vague scenes in mind. The story started to gosomewhere even though I often had no idea what would come out of my fingers asI sat at the typewriter. A woman I’d seen at the supermarket turned up as acharacter in the story, and typewriters turned out to play a major role (Iguess that was predictable). Finally it all came together in a Hollywoodishclimax, and the whole thing got the title Appointmentwith the Inferno. I give credit to my typewriters (for making me writeinstead of procrastinate) and the typosphere (for providing a little audienceso that I wasn’t working in a void). I have no idea whether that story is“good,” but the fact that I actually wrote a novel (my only one, since I wouldcall Gil a novella that’s only halfmine) fulfilled a longtime dream.

So naturally I haveto ask: having crafted Gil and Inferno with such aplomb, would you everconsider publishing any of your work?

What does "publishing" even mean anymore? On theInternet we make our words available to billions, instantly, at no cost, whileprinted books may fail to find any audience. The academic book I worked hardeston has been read carefully by maybe a dozen people. I don't resent that -- Iwrote it primarily in order to work out some ideas for myself -- but I wouldn'twant to get particularly obsessed with publishing books. I'm more concernedwith "privishing": maintaining a space of personal privacy in an ageof publicity.

Having said all that, I have to admit it: I'd be tickledpink if, after due revision, one of my stories got picked up by a publisher.

Editing: for those justtuning in at home, I hate it. You, on the other hand, made available atypewritten version of Gil that wasmiraculously error-free. Is there any special technique you use, or are you arobot sent from the future to show us our own organic inferiority?

Oh, I don’t know, there are plenty of xxxx’s there, and somechoices that make me cringe when I reread them. It’s hardly flawless. But mytyping technique was pretty good because I was writing at a moderate speed.

I haven’t tried revising either Appointment with the Inferno or Gil,but I ought to give revision a try if I can find the time.

Thanks, Richard!

Stay tuned next week for my subsequent interview with Speculator!

Valentine WIN!

2012-02-14T08:59:00.000-08:00

Let's take a wee break from writerly stuff for an interludeof pure awesomeness.

This morning Gen proved to me, once again, that she is thebest wife EVAR. Behold:

She made this from scratch, son.

Typospherian Interview: Mike Clemens

2012-02-09T09:48:00.000-08:00

Writers: they get asked a lot of inane questions, theinaniest of which is probably the old trope, “Where do you get your ideas?”

I mean, seriously? It’s like asking an Olympic runner, “Howdo you run so fast?” or a weight lifter, “How are you so strong?” If you don’tknow the basic animus of a thing, then you have no business in the business.

Rest assured, then, that we here at Just Write are notinterested in the ephemeral, the intangible, or the evanescent. We’re here tomine the cold hard facts about composition, to examine the grim and grittyclockwork that clacks away behind the scenes – how writers write.

Therefore it is my extreme pleasure to present out firstinterviewee, the mad scientist behind Clickthing, author of themuch-anticipated One Last Quest, anda man whom I hold in infinite regard, Mike Clemens.

So, Mr. Clemens, youjust so happen to be one of the preeminent collectors inhabiting the collectivethat is the typosphere. Your well-documented and large collection of writingmachines aside, what analog tools do you use most often during thecompositional process?

I think I've made no secret thatpretty much everything I write of significant length starts out life as indexcards. Actually, that's not quite true: it starts out as random thoughts jotteddown in a notebook, and then one day I realize that I have a ton of scribbleswritten down, and I need to transpose them before time renders my handwritingcompletely illegible. I believe that entropy has a special interest in manglingall my handwriting. Usually the notebook is just a cheap composition book andthe writing instrument is whatever is at hand, though I now try to keep afountain pen nearby because I'm a big spoiled baby and now feel that ballpointpens are “beneath me.” Also, my wife doesn't use fountain pens, so she's lesstempted to make off with one of mine. Gel pens and ballpoints go missing innanoseconds in our house.

Where was I?

Index cards.

Index cards, right.

Anyhow, I periodically go through my notebooks and copy downthe ideas onto index cards, which gives me a chance to play with thetypewriter, er, I mean “use the best tool for the job.” I try to follow apersonal rule of putting one idea per card, so a notebook scribble like “SophieMelba, heiress to the toast fortune, lives in a tower room with a secretpassage to a personal dirigible” would wind up spread across a few cards:

ñ SophieMelba is an heiress to the toast fortune

ñ Sophie'sbedroom is in a tower

ñ Sophie'sroom has a secret passage

ñ Sophiehas a personal dirigible

Breaking things down like this makes me feel like I'veaccomplished something, and it makes an impressive stack of paper on my desk.Also, the act of typing these up usually dislodges two or three other ideas,and I can just go ahead and put them on their own cards. This makes me feeleven more impressive and writerly. Look! I'm thinking up stuff!

Over time, I've notice that the ideas in the notebook willtend to cluster themselves into semi-coherent groups, like mold on oldlunchmeat. If I get a handful of ideas, I'll stick them under some kind ofworking title, like “Toast Story,” and then note that in a corner on therelated cards.

I try to make myself do this transcription once a month, sothe to-do pile doesn't get too overwhelming. And just going through the motionsdoes shake out more ideas, which is a good thing, right? They could be crazy,unworkable ideas maybe, but ideas nonetheless.

Speakingof transcribing, one of the biggest hurdles faces by typewriter enthusiastsinvolves moving longer works from analog to digital format. What technique doyou use?

I'd love to say that I am such a clean, consistent typistthat I'm able to load my pages up in optical character recognition (OCR)software and let the computer turn it into error-free files. This would be alie. What actually happens is that my raw typing looks so bad – filled withoverstrikes, double letters, spacing hiccups, and other hazards – that thecomputer just turns up its nose at my drafts and churns out something likelooks like a cat danced on the keyboard while wearing snowshoes. This is only aslight improvement from the originals. Besides, I like to scribble all over my manuscripts,so the OCR option denies me the pleasure of defacing my own work.

Quest was transcribed slowly,painfully, and sporadically by me using an old AlphaSmart Pro picked up for asong on eBay. It's like a little battery-operated typewriter that keepseverything in memory instead of paper, and is as close to the distraction-freewriting experience as my actual typewriter. I spent about four months on andoff – mostly off – retyping my heavily-edited draft, and then savored the daywhen it was finally-and-for-real sitting in a file on my computer. At leastuntil I discovered that I'd left on the automatic spell-check, which introducednumerous autocorrect-style word substitutions that I'm still chasing down. Wordto the wise: autocorrect goofs are hilarious until they happen to you. Ofcourse the weakest part of this process was still me at the keys, so I alsomade a fresh batch of mistakes as I retyped. It was not a great success.

We've since installed speech-to-text software on our homecomputer and added a decent microphone, so for my next transcription, I'm goingto read back my novel into the computer and let it type for me. Initial testswith the software look good, so we'll see how it goes. Proper names give itsome problems, but if they're consistently wrong, I can use Find/Replace to fixthem at the end.

No matter how the text gets into the computer, though, Icannot recommend too highly the idea of reading the transcribed work aloud, orif you're modest, shy, or paranoid, having the computer read it to you withtext-to-speech software – basically the opposite of the transcription tool. Ifound loads of strange word choices and clunky sentences that looked fine onthe page, but sounded “off” to my ear. I've heard that some people can findproblems by placing their text in a funny font, but that didn't work for me: myeyes were still convinced that every word was a work of finely-crafted genius.Clearly, my eyes were full of it. Since I'm going to be reading this next draftaloud, I should be able to fix goofs earlier in the process, say, beforeI hand the draft off to my first readers, instead of afterward. I think they'llappreciate that.

One Last Quest is at the same time complex and tightly-plotted.What is your compositional process, and what methods do you use to keep trackof your plot lines?

One Last Quest (working title “Quest Thing”) was bornout of my frustration with having three interwoven plots the year before, andnot really knowing how they fit together. I wanted something pretty straightforwardand easy to keep track of, and what's simpler than a road movie, right? I knewhow that story started, and I knew how it ended, and I figured I just neededFunny Stuff in the middle to stall for time between “Once upon a time” and“they all lived happily ever after.”

Of course, I didn't really know anything. Quest wasstarted during a Disneyland vacation, using a hotel ballpoint (ick) in mynotebook while waiting for my kids to spin down at the end of the day intosweet, blissful sleep. I had a couple of scenes in mind, but very little thatmade it into the final draft unchanged. Many of the scenes have anot-accidental similarity to certain locales in the Happiest Place on Earth...

When November starting sneaking up, I pulled out the “QuestThing” bunch of cards from my big file box and sat on the sidelines at my kid'ssoccer practice reading through them all. There were repeats, and there weresome obvious duds to set aside for another story, but after going through thestack a few times, I realized that I had something that could resemble anoutline if I reordered it and sorted it.

Pictured: sorted

I did try mapping out the plot at one point on paper,tracking all the entrances and exits, and locations and timelines. This wasreally boring. Even after the first draft, it was boring, and I likethat sort of thing. The best thing I did for the plot was write it down, andthen go back and edit, edit, edit. And then make other people read it, and thengo Oh No You're Right, and edit some more.

Despite all this planning and prep work, I still getsurprised come November. I stack up the cards into bunches and shove them intoa cheap photo album, so I can (in theory) grab a stack and know what I'mwriting for the next day or two. What actually happens is that I get halfwaythrough the stack, realize this is the wrong place in the story for character Ato do plot point B, and then try to rearrange things on the fly. It happensevery year. Also, new characters and plot will insist that they, too need to bepart of the story, and that I need to accommodate them. The “meanwhile, back athome” chapters of Quest are my best example of annoying, improvisedideas that I had to make room for. There's usually some blank cards next to thetypewriter to hold those stray thoughts.

Writing is an innately flawed process intended to driveauthors insane. What other profession/hobby insists that you listen to thevoices in your head? I mean, I spent most of this November taking goofy photosof a plastic toy rhinoceros. You can't tell me that's healthy. I wish I couldsay I used color-coded cards pinned to a corkboard, but in the end, the bestpreparation I have is reading the whole story ahead of time in quasi-outlineform, and then being ready to rearrange at the eleventh hour as I'm writing.

As anyone who hasmarveled at your repeated NaNoWriMosuccesses knows, you appear to have no problem churning out the material withjealousy-inducing consistency. When and how do you find the time to write?Regale us with your schedule.

I have the good fortune to have a large, loving family and afull-time job, which means I get basically zero time to write. My wife is kindenough to indulge my annual NaNoWriMo disease, and doesn't say anything aboutme stalking off to write in the wee hours, because that's the only time I can.Come November, I crank back my alarm clock an hour earlier than usual and thendrag myself out of a nice, warm bed to shuffle through a cold, dark house tosit down at the typewriter and type. The dog sometimes lays at my feet andfarts, just to keep things lively.

You'll have to imagine the smell yourself.

I know that I have about an hour of real honest-to-goodnesswriting time before my youngest child wakes up and finds me, and I've foundthis to be a fantastic motivator. I'm a pretty fast (though not accurate)typist, and on a good morning, I can turn out six double-spaced pages beforeI'm called upon for Daddy Duty. I type like crazy to get those pages done, evenif it's just in-character stream-of-consciousness stuff.

Mind you, the first page I write on any given day is almostalways complete garbage – who writes well first thing in the morning? – and Ivery often spend that time re-wording something I already typed a day or twopreviously, but sometimes there's actual progress, and that's an awesomefeeling. I know that six to eight pages per day will net my required word countfor NaNo on a pica typewriter. I'll try to round out the other two pages atwork over lunch, and then anything beyond that is just a bonus. If things aregoing particularly well, I'll sometimes kick the line spacing down a bit totrick myself into typing more, though I like to leave room for edits.

It also helps that I'm not-so-secretly a perfectionist andvery competitive, and that I obsessively reload other people's word-count barson the NaNo site. Having someone to chase, word-count-wise, is a greatmotivator for me. “He's at 30,000 words already? That bastard! I'll showhim!” And of course, the Typewriter Brigade is a fantastic group of people. I'mdeeply indebted to Duffy Moon for forming the Brigade, and for tolerating mybecoming the self-appointed Brigade Loudmouth. The power of distraction-freewriting cannot be over-emphasized. I'd have quit a long time ago if I was stillusing a laptop like I did for my first NaNoWriMo. Now if you'll excuse me, Ineed to check Twitter/Facebook/Google/Email/the whole Internet.

We here at Just Writewere extremely gratified when you agreed to help edit Pen and Platen. Because, you know, we hate editing. How do you goabout the editing process, and what methods do you use to ease the pain?

I haven't figured out a painless solution yet. I've spent alot of time reading advice books on editing, which again, makes me feelaccomplished when really it's just me being lazy and procrastinating. Penand Platen was actually a lot of fun to edit, because a) it's a short storycollection and b) it isn't mine. Is there anything harder than criticallyreading your own work, and poring over those words that you slapped on the pageat ungodly-o'-clock in the morning, and then trying to shape them intosomething readable? I think not.

I'm still working on this process: I'm reading through my2011 NaNo draft, or was anyhow, until I decided not to and put it down andpretended like it wasn't there, on my nightstand, waiting... watching mesleep... ahem. I agree with the many helpful editing books that you needto put some distance between yourself and the draft: let it sit on a shelf fora while before you re-read it. Maybe have a fortifying beverage on hand ifthat's your sort of thing, or put on a lucky Editing Hat or something.Personally, I approach editing my own work with trepidation and neglect,because I remember writing it in the first place, and I know what's going tohappen next, and the weight of all the bad prose is just soul crushing. Aroundthis time, when I'm up to my nipples in self-pity, I look over at my wife asshe's rooting around the junk drawer trying to find a ballpoint pen, and thinkabout how huge our kids were as newborns and what an awesome, amazing, wondrousfeat it was for her to carry them and deliver them and nurture them, and that Ireally need to man up and just Edit the Damn Book.

I do firmly believe that your first draft should be in somehard-to-digitize format, though, be it hand-written, or type-written, orcuneiform or whatever. The first edit, the big-broad-edit, is best done at themacro level, when you've got the whole thing laid out in front of you,figuratively speaking, and you're just looking at the hills and valleys of the writingand trying to see where things went bad and things went well. Digital editingis micro-level, niddling about proper spelling and subject-verb agreement andwondering if you used the word “toast” far too often in that last paragraph.It's too easy to let things lie in a digital draft. You can't scribble on it.There's something very satisfying to me about drawing all over my originaldraft, making notes and arrows and adding sticky notes like “move dirigiblecrash scene from day 15 here” until the final product looks more like an artpiece than a work of fiction.

Thanks, Mike!

Stop by next week for an interview with Richard Polt!

Pencast: Finally!

2012-02-06T23:24:00.000-08:00

My apologies for using a pen during ITAM. Sometimes even counterculture is too mainstream for me.

Antares Parva et Ephemera

2012-01-22T15:28:00.000-08:00

Easily influenced: I am it.

Manual Entry featured this here post about an Antares Parva,so naturally I had to drag mine out and take a few pictures. And while I was atit, I figured that I would show off a couple of thrift store finds I stumbledupon in the process of looking for it in Portland last year.

The new "star" of my collection! Get it? Antares? No? Sigh...

The Parva is a small form-factor, lighter by far than eventhe relatively lightweight Lettera 32. The trade-off is that the chassisappears to be made of little more than pot metal—a factor that actually provedto be convenient during the recent repairs that I had to perform.

Above is the back plate that I had to pry off by bending it right in the middle, featuring bare metal where the top case scraped off some paint. Featured also is the blasted mainspring that I finally goaded into working with cuss words and flame.

Interior view

I outfitted the Parva with a ribbon I found at OfficeMax, but for some reason it prints super light, which I'm chalking up to shoddy inking. I'll eventually get around to loading it up with a better ribbon, then give it a razz.

Oregon Typewriter and Recorder Co., playing it fast and loose with mucilage since 1956.

'S funny, looking the hastily-glued store emblem, this little baby never made it that far from home.

Besides the typer, I also picked up a couple of typewriter training manuals. The first is the South-Western Publishing Co.'s 20th Century Typewriting. How modern!

The complete course? Nuts. And here I was looking for the partial one.

The best part? Finger calisthenics! Now how many typewriting manuals include that little gem?

Finger gymnastics: SO MANY USES.

Also, "Reach-Stroke Practice." My brain is vapor-locked by sophomoric humor.

I also picked up the New-Quick-Easy Typing Course (Touch Method) manual, which will allow me to learn at home in ten days!

Better manuals than you have tried to teach me, Senor Typing Course.

One of the coolio features is that the front cover folds up into a quick-reference pup-tent.

Not pictured: Wite-Out weenie roast.

The inner pages are made of onion-skin, with exercises on each. The idea is that you tear them out, spool them into your machine, and practice right on the page.

It's pretty clever, actually. You perform the exercises without having to look away from the page, while simultaneously consuming the manual, leaving naught but a cover when all is said and done. Lucky for me, the previous owner never really got around to working their way through it.

So that's all for now. A special thanks to all who entered the comment contest, as well as those who volunteered to leave reviews on Amazon!

Levenger Bomber Jacket Folio Review

2012-01-19T17:49:00.000-08:00

Ah, the post-Christmas season, when a young man's fancyturns to ash with the passing of the yule tide's frivolities. Luckily, yourstruly, having weathered the ill tides of post-celebratory ennui before, hasdiscovered a means by which it can be avoided. Namely: time-release gifts.

Late in December, my wife purchased a mystery present forme, to be delivered this week, a balm to stave off the Januarial Doldrums (adisease of my invention that has yet to have been recognized by the DSM, thoughit should be). Therefore, I present to you, denizens of the 'webs, with theLevenger Bomber Jacket Circa Folio.

The first thing one notices is the quality constructionLevenger pours into every part of their presentation. Even the box is high-quality, transforming itfrom mere packaging into something to be preserved, perhaps as a manuscriptcaddy, or some such. Shiny, sturdy, and impressive. And that's just the box.

The Box: It's just a.

Inside, the folio is nestled in its own special blanket(which is soft to the touch, and like the box, worth hanging on to (yes, I canbe a bit of a hoarder, so shut up)), and which is emblazoned with the Levengerlogo, just in case you'd forgotten who made the product in the last thirtyseconds or so.

Oh, Levenger. Good thing they put it on there.

Ah, here we are.

It's almost naughty.

The folio is made of pebbled brown leather,which is a delight to the senses. Unless of course you're a vegan, in whichcase it's a horror show beyond imagining. Either way, though, the flesh of thisanimal has been tanned and softened.

Cow Murder: It's soft to the touch.

The only real drawback is that it may edgeover the line into too soft. I'm abit afraid to drop this into my ruck with all my other writing accoutrements. Theplaid felt liner is good-looking enough, but it's a bit thin.

Inside is a 1/2" Circa notebook, with annotated, ruledpages. The paper quality is good, and the Circa system is interesting enough,but I think I would have preferred 3/4", as well as an option as to whatkind of paper would be included. Yes, I am spoiled.

I already used the First World Problems link, but if I hadn't it would go here.

And of course, there is a pen loop, which even accommodatesslightly larger writing implements like the Pilot Vanishing Point. So that'snice.

Over all, the construction and presentation of the productis above-average, but at better than $130, I'd say that the Levenger BomberJacket Circa Folio is definitely not an every-day purchase, nor does it appearto be able to withstand the beating it might receive in the hands of amodern-day, active typospherian. However, I will reserve judgment until it'sdone a couple tours in my employ.

A Winner is Them!

2012-01-16T12:51:00.000-08:00

Greetings, denizens of the interwebs!

First off, I would like to thank all those who took time outof their schedules to leave reviews for P&P. The review system truly is thelife's blood of the indie Amazon author!

So without further ado, I hereby present the winners of thePen and Platen Comment Contest, who will each receive a signed, first-editioncopy of the book! Yes, I know, it's extravagant, but that's just the kind of guy I am.

Our first winner, selected via the alchemical machinationsof random number generation is: Biblioworm!

Our second winner, chosen by hitting the "generatenumber" button twice, is: LeeAnna Holt!

Finally, our winner for the most apt and accurate review is:Notagain!

Well done, all. I will be contacting LeeAnna and Notagainvia email. Biblioworm, please contact me at Mike(dot)Speegle(at)gmail.com, orupdate your Amazon profile and I will contact you!

Thanks for playing, all, and please stay tuned for moresuper fun-time giveaways!

Note: The author apologizes for the excessive use of exclamation points, which he chalks up to literary zeal.

Last Chance!

2012-01-14T20:01:00.000-08:00

OK, people, this is it! You have until tomorrow midnight to drop by Amazon.com and leave a review on Pen and Platen in order to qualify for a chance at a signed first edition! Just think, all it takes is two minutes of your time, and within a nonce you will have a shiny new book in the palm of your hand!

"But Mike," you say, "that's too good to be true!"

"Ha!" I respond, jocularly adjusting my writing ascot, "And nonsense! This contest, fair friend, is just good enough to be true!"

Repost of the original...post follows:

After my wildly successful search for Pen and Platen's coverart, I have become addicted to contests! Therefore, I hereby commence theOfficial Pen and Platen Comment Contest!

RULES

STEP ONE: Acquire a copy of Pen and Platen: Short Stories Written the Long Way, available on Amazon.com for a mere $0.99. I know, what adeal, what a deal!

STEP TWO: Read it. Now wasn't that fun?

STEP THREE: Go to Amazon.com and leave a review! NOTE: I AMNOT LOOKING FOR ARSE-KISSING. I would ask of you nothing more than yourunvarnished opinion. Comment content will NOT affect contest eligibility.

And that's it! After thirty days, I will use a random number generator to determine two winners from among those who commented.

PRIZES

Two (2) SIGNED, PERSONALIZED bound copies of Pen and Platen willbe awarded to random commenters.

One (1) SIGNED, PERSONALIZED bound copy of Pen and Platen will beawarded to the person with the most incisive comment, as chosen by me!

OTHER STUFF

Purchase necessary. Contest open to participants worldwide!Winners will be informed via the contact information in their Amazon.comaccount. If winners do not respond within seven days, new winners will bechosen.

Typecast: I call it Double Christmas

2012-01-03T10:06:00.000-08:00

Element-ary

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-24T09:23:00.001-08:00

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, from all of us to all of you.

So you want to be a writer, huh? Pt. 2, Edit Boogaloo

2011-12-19T13:55:00.000-08:00

Believe it or not, being a big time novelist isn't all baldeagle caviar and robot backrubs. No, my ambitious young(ish) friend, some daysit's mostly just research, writing, cleaning, writing, unclogging toilets,writing, and finally — the anathema of all sane and self-respecting persons —editing.

In the interest of telling the truth, the unholy harpy whosename we call Editina, Flayer of Souls, had her way with me this month.

Her fearsome tools

Pen and Platen went out over the wire, and even after going over the manuscript with aseries of increasingly fine-toothed combs, errors legion were discovered byyours truly (and various eagle-eyed readers), forcing me to take a step back,descend from my ivory tower — capped with luxuriant silks and inlaid with goldfiligree though it is — and take a hard look at my proofreading process lest Ibetray the public's trust in my ability to craft the tales of whimsy it likesso well.

Now with 7,000 fewer errors and a fresh new look!

"But how, Mike?" you ask, you breath appropriatelybated. Well, I'll tell you, it weren't no easy process. Back I flew to myediting draft, seen here, to ascertain the source of my syntacticalshortcomings. I trolled the draft entire — back to front, as is my wont — andfound instead what I did not find: errors errors everywhere. "He"instead of "his," "the" masquerading obscenely as the muchmore apropos "them."

So there's that.

Worry not, however; all has been set right in the literarycosmos. I fixed the errors and shot Amazon a communiqué, and they assured methat an update would be zipping across the ether post haste.

But what to do with Good Friday, which I finished not daysago? After all, it's one thing to go word-by-word through a 50k manuscript,another entirely to face down a 160k behemoth armed with nothin' but a littlered pen.

In case of emergency, this manuscript can also be used to brain an assailant.

Rumination has been the watchword of the past forty-eight hours, andso without further ado I present you with:

Mike's List o' Editing Tricks (PatentPending):

1. Make friends. The only thing that saved me from utter humiliation (asopposed to the infinitely more preferable partial humiliation) was the selflessassistance of good folks like Mike "One Last Quest" Clemens, my goodfriend Denise Britton, and — of course — the lovely Genevieve. They pointed outmy errors — both before and after publication — and refused to spare myfeelings. FIND PEOPLE LIKE THIS. Fresh eyes are the best thing you can bring tothe table.

2. Change the format. Oh how I wish that I'd thought of this particular chestnutearlier. Turns out, mistakes are like coral snakes. They like dark, cool,secluded places. When they hear your tread upon the stair they slither into thegutter between pages, towards margins, into strings of conjunctions. The bestway to combat this is to change up the way you read. Upload your unfinishedmanuscript to your Kindle, Nook, or i-thing. Send it over to Createspace andbuy a bound copy. Do something to changeit up. This will force those little error-serpents from hiding, where youcan grind them under your heel.

As it turns out, some books have pages. Huh.

3. Sit on it. This is my Achilles' heel, my kryptonite. I'm an impatientlittle cuss, and the idea of tabling a manuscript, "letting itmellow," as one Mr. King would say, is like watching paint dry. Whilegetting attacked by bees. Most of the time a manuscript languishing in a drawerfeels like a huge waste of resources, but as it turns out, time is an essentialelement in distancing oneself from a work — the distance that's required to doan adequate job butchering it later.

4. Schedule it. Another one of my (admittedly numerous) weaknesses.Proof-reading — unlike editing — is not a purely creative process. Sure, youmay be dealing with the story, but the lion's share of the compositional arc iscomplete. Now it's all brass tacks. This means that the late-night binges andthe bohemian café afternoons must give way to a rigorous schedule of proofing,even if that means buying an egg-timer and locking yourself in the closet for ahalf-hour every night. And the best part is, when the timer goes off, it meansyou're free!

5. Listen to it. English is a beautiful language, with an almost lyricalcadence that shines through even in the basest forms of the vernacular. Thatsaid, things that may look as purty as a pitcher on the page may turn suddenlyto offal when spoken aloud. Read your work out loud, and a surprising amount of"improvable material" (see also, crappy writing) will avail itself ofyou. Another fun technique comes to us courtesy of Mr. Clemens. Feed your workinto a text to speech program, and listen as the dulcet tones of your personalcomputing device enumerate your errors in Dolby 5.1.

That's all I have for now, but please feel free to use thecomment section as a sounding board for your own editing proclivities!

Comment Contest!

2011-12-14T18:46:00.000-08:00

After my wildly successful search for Pen and Platen's coverart, I have become addicted to contests! Therefore, I hereby commence theOfficial Pen and Platen Comment Contest!

RULES

STEP ONE: Acquire a copy of Pen and Platen: Short Stories Written the Long Way, available on Amazon.com for a mere $0.99. I know, what adeal, what a deal!

STEP TWO: Read it. Now wasn't that fun?

And that's it! After thirty days, I will use a random number generator to determine two winners from among those who commented.

PRIZES

Two (2) SIGNED, PERSONALIZED bound copies of Pen and Platen willbe awarded to random commenters.

One (1) SIGNED, PERSONALIZED bound copy of Pen and Platen will beawarded to the person with the most incisive comment, as chosen by me!

OTHER STUFF

So you want to be a writer, huh?

2011-12-11T02:34:00.001-08:00

Behold! The first in a planned series of lectures on my life as a full-time writer. Today's entry details my schedule on an average day. Please keep in mind that I in no way endorse sleeping only five hours a day and/or eating the Ultimate Breakfast Burrito from Taco Time (even though it tastes like it's made out of unicorns).

Also, stay tuned this week, as I am in the process of putting together an awesome, fun-time super contest!

Composed with the unholy union of a cheapo pad of OfficeMax legal paper (which is like ten years old) and my larvly Pilot Vanishing Point with Waterman blue/black ink.

Typecast: On heartbreak

2011-12-07T21:23:00.000-08:00

"Murder your darlings." -Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, On the Art of Writing

The murder weapons.

Physical versus digital

2011-12-05T11:04:00.001-08:00

Oh ho ho. Good one, universe. You got me again.

See, I have been making the slow transition to a cultist in the House of Digital lately all unknowing. Seamlessly, as Richard Polt might say.

Not that I haven't been utilizing to their greatest extent my analog devices—rather, I have been putting all my creative eggs in the digital basket. After all, publishing a digital file on Amazon was — well — a little too easy. Sure there were some minor formatting piccadilloes to deal with, but far fewer than you'd think, friend.

So it was that when Createspace asked me if I wanted a physical proof of Pen and Platen, I ordered one for no other reason than to have it on hand, to flip through for my own amusement. "Oh, what's that on the shelf? Just an old anthology of mine from when I was poor. Why yes, I will have some more caviar and champagne, thanks."

But then this arrived and CHANGED EVERYTHING.

It came swaddled in a thin layer of cardboard, this harbinger of destiny, and once I got it in the house, I realized that I couldn't open it. The concept of having created a real actual book was suddenly too much for me to bear. I mean, I have created digital files legion, what's one more?

But this…I had to have Gen open it behind my back, then set it on the table so that I could turn around slowly and look at it. I opened the pages and looked through. It was a damn book.

So like a literary Saint Paul on the road to Damascus, my eyes were opened. My slow slide towards the purely digital lifestyle has been upended by this one thing — this slim, six by nine manifestation of my literary labors.

I want to make books.

So once I make some changes and corral the odd formatting gremlin, I'm gonna start selling physical copies of Pen and Platen: Short Stories Written the Long Way. It'll probably take a few weeks and cost a little more, but the thought of someone else out there holding a physical copy of my words in their hand at home or at the DMV or at the park fills me with a sense of terrible import, if even on my own microcosmic level. It's proof that I wrote. That I write. And I love it.

Typecast: Pen and Platen is live!

2011-12-01T09:32:00.000-08:00

Oh yeah, and special thanks to cover art contest winner and all-around talented character Rob Bowker for his contribution!

Photocast: It's Alive!

2011-11-20T20:31:00.001-08:00

Single-mindedness and attendant physical distress

2011-11-16T22:29:00.001-08:00

There are any number of character foibles to which could, quite rightly, be affixed to my person. Irascibility, orneriness, the occasional marked bouts of petulance. But none who have ever spent more than prerequisite amount of time that demarcates the borderland between "acquaintance" and "bosom companion" would ever venture to describe my person as "single-minded."
And yet, I am beholden to give in evidence the current condition of my shattered constitution which — like the Colossus at Rhodes or any other anthropomorphic stone edifice of millennia past — has been shattered by the ravages of time.

To wit: The Tuesday previous Mrs. Speegle came home from work and spent the balance of the evening with a friend of hers who has a similar interest in crafts — and somewhat more importantly — an attendant large space in which to fabricate all manner of delightful paper artifice. This left Mr. Speegle the younger and I quite to our own devices and, having eaten food rich enough in saturated fat to cause significant damage to even the most resolutely functioning gall bladder, I found that after I had bundled him off to bed there was naught for me to do but write.

And write I did, until Genevieve came home all aglow with the mirth that only close contact with various adhesives can bring. I rose to meet her, and was stricken with the entirely appalling sensation of discomfiture that often accompanies a truly indecent amount of time in a markedly un-ergonomic position. This sense of unease was magnified by the fact that somehow four hours had flown by, and that the length of my manuscript had grown by no less than seven thousand words.

Having ingested enough Aleve to fell a Shetland pony, I resolved to take a break for a couple of days, ignoring completely the hypocrisy of the previous "write every day" dogma that I have been espousing about the intertubes. No, instead I found myself reading for three solid hours in the same position, which once again resulted in the crackling of misaligned bones as well as the entirely unnerving numbness of oxygen-starved tissues manifold.

And while this may seem like a familiar brace of circumstances to some of you, I woefully admit that such single-minded immersion in anything is quite unlike me. I am always the first to lose interest in anything that I find even remotely disengaging; I am always the first to bounce up out of my seat during the slow bit in the latter half of the film (during which the debris from the halfway-point explosions/loveaffair/wacky situation have settled and the exothermic reaction of the final act have yet to begin) asking if anyone in the room is interested in popcorn because I have the kind that comes in its own bucket and it's delicious.

It's baffling. Could it be that I am maturing? That the move to Washington has affected, by ingress of unknown indigenous aqueous organisms some change in my brain chemistry? Has my sabbatical from electronic entertainment finally freed my cerebrum from the shackles of inattention?

OK, so it's probably the last one.

Cartography Mildly Spoilerific

2011-11-14T00:32:00.001-08:00

And now, a confession: I'm a terrible planner. Any of you who swing by here regularly (and thanks for doing so, by the way) know that I years to be — but am tragically not — the type of person who compiles notes and outlines and knows how their book is going to end.

But! I have been making great strides as of late, and as such I humbly present you with but one page out of my "story bible," in which can be found all manner of ideas and notions pertaining to my current work, Good Friday. It is a map of the fictional town of Walnut Wood, CA, and serves as a reference for when my characters move around town getting into all manner of unpleasant predicaments, as is their wont.

Typecast: Scope and Change

2011-11-10T19:43:00.001-08:00

Kinda ran out o' room there. Point is, I just breathe into a paper bag and remind myself that the story is going to go on for exactly as long as it needs to. And if the narrative insists on going on for a couple hundred thousand words, it would be doing my muse a disservice, right?

In other news, I have become completely and hopelessly addicted to the em dash. Alt-0151 is where it's at.

A question of burning

2011-11-05T18:27:00.000-07:00

Important things I learned during NoTV NaNo: It's actuallyimportant what kind of wood you buy for the fireplace! I have been burningwhatever junk wood I could find until today, when I found 7.5 cubic footbundles of birch which had been mislabeled at a lower price. MAN...does thatstuff burn hot and well. My whole right side is medium-rare.

Also: it is scientifically proven that there is nothingbetter than lounging in front of the fire, reading novel research material,making notes with a fountain pen in an unlined notebook, and sipping cider withcloves and cinnamon. If there was, it would be prohibited by federal law.

Just call me Hephaestus

2011-11-04T10:23:00.000-07:00

And since a Hephaestian process brought her to life, I shall call her Eupheme, after the goddess of laughter, applause, and good omens.

In other news, I finally got around to cataloging my arsenal of NaNoian implements. No, the dog has nothing to do with writing; she just insisted on being in the picture.

Contest winners!

2011-11-03T10:13:00.000-07:00

First, I'd like to thank, from the bottom of my black littleheart, the folks that participated in the Penand Platen cover art contest. It was difficult to decide among all of the entries, for the themes varied greatly in scope and ambition. In the end it all came down to personal preference. I ultimately decided that I wanted to go with something uncluttered yet punchy, as you will see in the examples below.

So without further ado, may I preset our winners!

Third place goes to Anne Giardi of Kennewick, WA! Anne'sentry wins the "austere beauty" prize, as well as a free digital copyof Pen and Platen!

Second place goes to the Typosphere's own Mike Clemens forfollowing instructions exactly to theletter. Mike gets a signed copy of Penand Platen as well as a digital copy for his well-used Nook! Congrats,Mike.

And finally, the grand prize goes to the enormously talentedRob Bowker, who manufactured not one but threeseparate covers, each more alluring than the last. Rob wins a signed copyof the manuscript, a digital edition of the book, and a framed page of the original manuscript of his choosing, aswell as the smug satisfaction of having created the cover art for the bestcollection of short stories ever.

Prizes will be sent out at the end of the month once thelayout is solidified. Thanks for playing!

Oh, and keep an eye out for a quite-possible dedicated Pen and Platen site!

The Big Break-Up

2011-10-31T23:52:00.000-07:00

Painful confession time: Ever since I was but a wee tykebalanced on my mother's knee, I have but rarely gone more than a day withoutsupping from the font of idiocy which is the televised motion box. Oh sure, Ihave read the Great Works and gone regularly to church and played catch with mychild on crisp evenings. I have even somehow managed to secure the love of agenuine lady-person with whom I spend as much time as possible.

And yet, looking back, it alarms me to think of how thesethings pale in comparison to the decades-long affair that hath occurred betweenmyself and television. Thousands of hours of cartoons, documentaries, newsshows, sit-coms, rom-coms, sit-rom-sci-coms, and more. Everything but sports.And to what end?

Surely I cannot be blamed, for my inculcation happenedduring what is affectionately called (within the boundaries of my own cranium)the Golden Age of Talkies. I mean, I cut my teeth on OG Thundercats, Smurfs,Transformers, and GI Joe, for crap's sake. The originals, which are in retrospect so tatty that they borderline onintentional kitsch. The ludicrouslytragic. Oh, and The Simpsons, seasons 2-8. Magical.

But the relationship is abusive. TV and I have been livinggradually separate lives. She has been going out and experimenting with NewJersian walking-STD factories and dancing programmes. I don't even know you anymore. Sure, there are some good moments. The Office. Parks and Rec. Ron Swansonand his love of carne is alone almost enough to shore up the burgeoning gulf betweenus. Almost.

So I hate to do this in such a public fashion, magic talkybox, but you and I are going to have a trial separation. Just for November. I'mgoing to head over to Books's house and we're going to spend some timetogether. You see, she and I have been together for just as long, and whilewe've had our problems (I refer here to Nelson "Fitzgeraldesque" DeMilleand Mo "dead babies" Hayder), I think that spending some time withher is going to help clear my head. After that, we'll have to reassess ourrelationship. Video Games and Movies are going to stay with you, Internet andPens are coming with me. They never got along anyway.

So there's that.

Typecast: NaNoesque

2011-10-30T18:14:00.000-07:00

Just in wood-case

2011-10-15T17:32:00.000-07:00

Wood-case pencils, man. Can't get enough of 'em. Seriously, in the extremely rare case that I have extra walkin' around money burning a hole in my pocket, I either hit up the webs or find some excuse to swing by a -max or -depot to meander the aisles, all the while getting sidelong glances from increasingly nervous staffers.

Today was just such a day.

See, two years ago my sister, Christina and I met weekly to work on our NaNoNovels. One day she showed up with a shiny new Parker Jotter, all resplendent in bright pink. I asked her what the dealio was, and she told me that is was a breast-cancer awareness pen. This tantalized me because:

A: I like pens, especially the delightfully clicky Jotter.
B: Everyone likes boobs.
C: No one likes cancer.

Thus was born my yearly NaNo tradition: every year I buy a breast cancer awareness writing implement. The first year, it was the Jotter. The second year, I found a Uni-Ball Signo in pink. This year, however, I couldn't find a pen that met my exacting standards. But wait! Ribbon-pink Ticonderoga's? Sold!

So I brought 'em home, sharpened a few, and added them to The Box, the holding area for pencils that are currently in rotation. It was then that I noticed that The Box was looking just a tad full.

Yikes.

And to make matters worse? I also received a package in the mail today, courtesy of LFP's having done infected my mind with the desire to acquire some of these...

Double yikes.

In other news, if you intend to participate in the best contest in the history of anything ever, you have two weeks to send in your entries!

Typecast: Cover art contest!

2011-10-10T12:49:00.000-07:00

I'm gonna be honest: this is going to be the best thing ever. Move over polio vaccine, cloud-based information sharing and pizza with cheese in the crust!

But seriously...enter. Enter enter enter the contest. Show me how creative you creative types (pun!) can be.

UPDATE: I guess maybe I should tell you how to submit your entries! You can email them to me at mike(dot)speegle(at)gmail(dot)com, OR post a link to your creation in the comments area.

Also, I have received questions as to the thematic bent of the work. Pen and Platen is a collection of stories that have one thing in common: they were originally composed by means other than electronic, and they are all fun to read. It is a sundry bag of genre-licious flavors...horror, spec fiction, humor, even a new spin on a couple of classic tales.

UPDATE UPDATE: Also, feel free to ignore any of the rules above if you have sufficiently artistic reason for doing so. I'm easy like Sunday morning.

Pencast: A question of character

2011-09-29T00:29:00.000-07:00

Typecast: A cut of the Kindle capital

2011-09-19T13:46:00.000-07:00

From Signorina Olivetti, the international Lettera 32

Typecast: Today's Highlights

2011-09-15T20:25:00.000-07:00

From my somewhat recalcitrant Underwood FIVE

Good Readin'

2011-09-09T23:35:00.000-07:00

Gen has me hooked on Good Reads, so when you look for someone to blame for the insane amount of book reviews that you'll be seeing here, she's the one.

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Miss Peregrine's is a fascinating tale that conveys well both setting and time, and the characterizations fit perfectly the half-whimsical, half-sinister tone of the book. Unfortunately, and perhaps owing to its status as as "YA" offering, it feels insubstantial, perhaps half-finished. Though sequel series are de rigueur as of late, it feels rather like Riggs cleft one story in twain rather than providing a first installment in a longer work.

John Dies at the End by David Wong

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Strange as it may seem, David Wong may just be the 21st century's answer to HP Lovecraft. John Dies at the End starts off on a light-horror note, then sucker-punches the reader with increasingly horrifying twists of which there is no adequate preparation. Cyclopean horrors lurk in the most innocuous places, and more than once I found myself dreading what the next page would bring. And this is coming from a guy who read SK's IT when he was way too young.

The only real downside is that the narrative has a tendency to meander at times, leaving the reader wondering if a total cohesive vision of the plot ever availed itself to the author. I look forward to further offerings from Wong in the hope that he will continue to grow into some very big shoes.

The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafón

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

It's been a long time since an I've read an author so able to completely imbue a text with such a tactile sense of longing. Oftentimes, writers lose track of age-appropriate behaviors, either writing young people as preternaturally intelligent, or astoundingly doltish. Zafón, on the other hand, has crafted a truly authentic youthful voice in Daniel Sempere. The readers feel Daniel's longing, experience his pain, and see through his eyes the wonder majesty of a Barcelona gone by. I highly recommend this novel.

View all my reviews

Additives

2011-09-06T23:05:00.000-07:00

So I know that you kids out there in tube-land are waiting with bated breath for Pen and Platen, but I think it's going to be just a bit longer in the making. See, I just stumbled upon two older stories, both kind of Poe-ish, so I've decided to polish them up and add them to the mix. Sure, it may add a few days to the completion date, but that just means more bang for your buck, right?

Right.

The three R's: Reading, wRiting, sepaRation axiety

2011-08-30T20:30:00.000-07:00

I had some pretty grand plans involving a typecast today, but true to its nature, tempus fugit-ed without my permission. I does that.

Today was Mr. Speegle the younger's first day of kindergarten. When I dropped him off in front of the school this morning, there was crying and clinging and general foot-draggingness, but then I got over it.

Seriously, though, sending my one and only young'n off into the wild world is a big step for me, even if the "wild world" consists of a very nice private Christian school full of warm and fuzzy educators. Special thanks to my and Gen's folks for that one, btw.

So once I dropped off el kiddo, I made for Roasters, a coffee shop in Richland with a river view. Nice. I drank a "beast" espresso (four shots, be still my heart) and set about writing the anxiety away. Three hours later Signorina Olivetti and I had managed to produce six or so single-spaced pages of extremely clean copy, thus completing "Quid pro quo," the second-to-last story for Pen and Platen.

P&P is moving along briskly, thanks in no small part to the sterling editorial skills of not only Gen but also the Typosphere's own Mr. Clemens, both of whom dutifully read my dreck and manage to avoid telling me that it's total crap.

And that's it for now, other'n the fact that a virtual type-in is tentatively planned for next weekend. Hit up G+ or WTTT for the deets.

Best,

-M

Typecast: The kindness of strangers typecasters

2011-08-05T21:28:00.000-07:00

Typecast: Seattle Type-in Highlights

2011-08-01T19:46:00.000-07:00

Of course I need to mention the awesome typewriter towel that Gen made can be found (along with other things that are awesome at her store, which include finished stuff like the typewriter towel,, and well as deluxe patterns. Go there and buy things and support the increase of awesomeness in the world.

***Edit*** Ryan and Justin were there early, not Peter and Justin. Durrrrr...

Pencast: Ode to Lamy Joy

2011-07-25T21:08:00.001-07:00

Me and Sleeping Beauty

2011-07-20T01:10:00.000-07:00

I had a bike when I was a kid. Who didn't? Well, one day, way back in a dark time called the "80's," I was out pedaling around the neighborhood when I hit a patch of sand and slid hard into a pricker bush.

The thorns were long and black and extremely pointy, but by some stroke of youthful luck I managed to take but one wound. But oh what a wound it was. One of the thorns actually went straight into my fingernail, right at the base, and snapped off flush. My mom did her very best to dig it out, but to no avail. I would just have to wait for the nail to grow out, the thorn in tow.

It seemed to take forever. The nail drew the thorn along the nail bed, leaving a sickly red-black trail as it rent the flesh. The wound hurt perpetually, because it couldn't heal. And God forbid I bump it on anything, driving the spike in further.
The whole ordeal really, really sucked. It was slow and painful and drawn out way longer than it needed to be.

It's almost...almost as bad as editing my own work.

2:51 am

2011-07-18T02:47:00.000-07:00

I know I'm going to be a wreck tomorrow. It's almost 3 am, and the kid is going to be up with the sun, all bright-eyed and wanting cereal. I will pour Cheerios and quiz him on sight words for kindergarten and later maybe play some catch with that little football that just fits his hand. Maybe later I will be able to get him to take a nap so I can pass out in my recliner.

I'll do it all with a smile because I know how lucky I am to be able to spend time with him. But I'll also be doing it gritty-eyed and yawning. But what choice do I have? The muse came calling just as I was drifting off.

And the stories aren't going to write themselves.

Typecast: Write place, write time

2011-07-11T21:20:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I know that no one is going to mistake me for Speculator or Strikethru in terms of blog prettiness, but I thought it might be fun to collage it up some. Who knows? Maybe Gen is starting to have a positive influence on me.

But seriously, if you have any ideas, post 'em up here, and I hope to see you there!

Kindle versus Nook: This time it's for reads

2011-07-05T15:05:00.000-07:00

OK, let's establish the ground rules here: I know that there are about a hojillion N v. K reviews out there, and that the flames of fanboy-dom are burning bright and fierce the length and breadth of the intertron. That said, I'm not here to compare processor speeds and chipset architecture; if you really wanna delve into that information, you can hit up Cnet or some such. I'm just out to chronicle my personal experience with the two devices, so that maybe if you feel an inkling towards an e-readin' purchse, it might help ya out some.

To begin with, the Good Lady Wife is a bit of a purist, an anachronism, a fan of the outdated and kitschy, if you will. That said, when I broached the subject of purchasing for her an e-reader to augment her book collection a couple of years ago, she protested vehemently.

I still think about it every morning when I put in my glass eye.

I dropped the subject for a time, but years later, the stage set itself for another sally into technology and possible personal injury. You see, due to some real-estate...complications (can you say not one but TWO meth-labs on our cul-de-sac, kids?) we found ourselves paring down our belongings for a move to a smaller but nicer clime. And while 3,000 or so books are great and all, they're hell to move. Thus, when a shiny new Amazon Kindle arrived for Gen that Christmas, she greeted it with open arms, and thanked me with a dearth of personal injury. So that was nice.
A short time later, when we made our move for Washington state, I picked up a Barnes and Noble Nook for myself if for no other reason than to be contrary.

But enough history, how do they stack up? you ask.

Design:

Kindle

The Kindle is hard grey plastic with a six-inch screen and a full qwerty below in tiny tiny hard plastic buttons. It's between seven and eight inches tall, five wide, and about a third-of-an-inch thick. There are two hard buttons on each side of the screen, a long one to page forward and a shorter one to page back. The screen and plastic cleans up easily.

Nook

The Nook is shorter than the Kindle, but this is because it lacks a qwerty, instead utilizing a built-in touch screen for an interface. It's slightly thicker than the Kindle, and instead of hard buttons, soft buttons are imbedded in the silicone-like frame around the screen. While the soft plastic does tend to pick up fingerprints easier, the four buttons can be configured to page back or forward depending on your preference.

Result: Tie. I mean, you can hold them in your hand, like a book. Which is the point, right?

Interface:

Kindle

The Kindle depends on the qwerty, some feature buttons (Home, Menu, &c.), and a small hat switch on the lower right side for navigation. While pragmatic (the buttons are very solid), I had a hard time with then simply because of their small size. Typing things on the keyboard is a chore for me, as each letter if about half the size of the average pea. But then, I gots me some big mitts.

Nook

Let it be known now and for all time: I, Mike Speegle, am not a big fan of touch screens. It may just spring from dealing with them in the casino biz, but the constant frustration of calibration issues and shoddy detection typically cancels out the convenience of being able to just jab at what you want like an ape. In the case of the Nook, however, cleverly uses a small network of infrared beams that sense touch. The weird thing is that you don't even have to touch the darn thing. Just get your finger close enough to its target and the screen senses it. Oh, and it totally works through gloves.

Result: Depends on your hand size. If you gots big meat hook-y hands like your humble narrator, then the Nook. That said, it remains to be seen how long the life is on the touch screen. The Kindle might win on the basis of longevity.

Display:

Kindle/Nook

Fun fact: both machines use the same e-ink technology for their displays, which is animated by what I can only guess is witch magic. Dark arts aside though, the screen are the same size and quality, near as I can tell. The only slight advantage goes to the Nook, which "flashes" less often, a feature that is touted a bit but makes no appreciable difference. I mean, it's grayscale meant for reading. It looks great in indoor lighting and full sun (the matte plastic repels glare) but if you wanna look at shiny color pictures, this ain't the place. Nor is there backlighting, which means that either you need to read it in adequate light, like you would a real book, or pick up one of the available...

Accessories:

Before we get started, I am a man. A testosterone-laden, bearded, meat-eating man. That said, I understand the need for the occasional accessory. Only if someone's watching, I might call them "peripherals."

Kindle

The go-to accessory for the Kindle seems to be the light-up cover that can be found, shockingly enough, on Amazon. The Kindle clips into it via a tiny copper latch, and is protected by a thick leatheresque cover lined with a felt-like substance. What really sets it aside, though, is the fact that in the upper right-hand corner of the cover is a light that can be pulled out to illuminate the screen. It runs right off the Kindle's battery, and turns on and off automatically it is deployed. The only drawback here is that the latch that keeps the Kindle in place is a tad flimsy.

Nook

I was kind of put off by the accessories offered for the Nook. It seems that while B&N took into consideration everything that an e-reader should be when designing the device itself, they decided to accessorize it like it was one of those small yappy purse-dogs. The design of the covers was all over the place, so I finally just chose one that closes reporter-style and latches with a magnetic closure. Oh, and it can be set up to stand on its own. Dear Messrs. Barnes and Noble: Thanks for the most useless feature ever. As far as lighting goes, one can purchase a clip-on light that uses CR2032 batteries (like on your motherboard) and lasts a paltry twenty hours. I read that long week, and while the Nook fits easily in a voluminous cargo pocket, the concept of adding a little snake light to my load is not attractive.

Result: I have to give this one to the Kindle. The light feature is just way too convenient. It's really just like an integrated part of the machine.

Yeah, all that's well and good, but how do I read books on the dang thing?

Kindle

The Kindle can read .PDF's and Amazon's proprietary .AZW file format, and features a service that will convert other file formats, but only if you pay. Of course, there are other pieces of software out there like Calibre that will probably meet those needs, but I ain't here for no l33t haxxors.

Books and other media can be bought on Amazon.com, and will port right to the Kindle if it's online or hooked to a computer. Of course, if the device is online, that selfsame media can be bought right on the device.

Nook

Like the Kindle, media can be purchased from B&N's web site, or right on the device, easy-peasy. The advantages here, though, are where the Nook really shines. First, the Nook store sports more books than the Amazon store, but that hasn't made that much of a difference so far for me.

More importantly, though, is the fact that the Nook supports frickin' .EPUB. For those of you not in the know, .EPUB is the file format used by most libraries in their e-media catalog. This means that books can be rented, free-style, and then ported over to your Nook for typically 7, 14, or 21 days. Plus, Nook sports a lending feature that allows you to share books with friends for a limited time.

Result: Nook, hands down. Free is free, cousin.

Other stuff:

Yes, I hear those of you out there that are clamoring for me to cover all the miscellaneous features like expandable memory (Nook) and sound players (Kindle), but to be perfectly honest, none of those things have any bearing at all on the reading experience of the devices, which is kind of the whole damn point. If you're really into apps and such, maybe an iPad is more your speed.

Final Result:

It may be a tad anticlimactic, but I hereby declare a tie between the two devices. The basic version of both run the same, $139 retail (ignoring the abominable ad-supported version of the Kindle), and both can be found at brick-and-mortar stores as well as online. The Kindle has a real advantage with the light (no, I am not kidding) and packs more random features for those of you who like that kind of thing. The Nook really shines interface-wise, and the .EPUB support is something that Amazon should be offering right now.

Really, though they both hold a crap-ton of books, and are so simple your grandma could use 'em. So good luck and happy reading!

Typecast: Antique is the new old

2011-07-02T18:34:00.000-07:00

Typecast: So happy to desert the desert

2011-06-27T22:55:00.000-07:00

Typecast: Ch-ch-changes (Oh look out you typecasters)

2011-06-06T22:04:00.000-07:00

Wait...what day is it?

2011-05-30T02:01:00.000-07:00

What have I been up to?

Cheez, man. Working and writing. Thought that being out of school would be a relief, but the lack of structure has only magnified my latent desperation to create.

Getting to the point where maybe writing ain't enough. Looking into expanding to something more...visual for the summer. Dropped a line to a person who is better at...well...everything than I am, and am waiting on pins and needles to hear back from her.

I'll have an update on Pen and Platen in a day or so.

Back to work.

Pen and Platen Free Preview: Gratuitous Re-Post

2011-05-08T21:41:00.000-07:00

***UPDATE*** I have FLAGRANTLY reposted this in order to catch the Monday-morning crowd. Is nothing beneath me? Stay tuned to find out!

Below is part of the first draft of "To Set a Quiver," a tale about a young man who goes diving off the coast of Greece and makes an interesting discovery.

Please bear in mind that it's a first draft, so there may be a few mechanical issues. That aside, I would love to hear any and all feedback that you may have. Thanks!

And now, without further ado, Just Write Productions presents: To Set a Quiver.

Clio crossed her arms in that way she had and glared at me. Of course, in doing so she pushed her ample, sunburned cleavage up and out. So it wasn't all bad.

“But I don't want to.” she said.

I sighed inwardly. Though our conversation may have seemed fresh to passers-by, it was so old that its beard had a beard.

I smiled as best I could, but even to me it felt as brittle as spun sugar.

“I understand, sweetie. But remember yesterday when you wanted to do nothing but lay on the beach from dawn until dusk? How you said that if we did what you wanted to do yesterday, that we could do what I wanted to do today?”

What I didn't mention was that for the last six days of our vacation to the island of Petra tou Romiou (which by the way wasn't really even an island, but some half-assed geological formation called a “sea stack,” which to me just seemed lazy) near Greece, we had done nothing that did not spring from the petulant and mercurial mind of my lady love. But then, I had declined to argue because I was either A) too drunk, B) too tired, or more likely, C) too horny. Clio may have been somewhat difficult to deal with (“a tin-plated, sullen slattern,” according to one of my more verbose friends), but as far as looks went, she bought herself a lot of leeway with red hair, pale skin, and a balcony you could perform Shakespeare from.

Today, however, I had drawn a line in the sand. In fact, to get my courage up, I had etched a shallow furrow in the island's rocky grit with one big toe. Symbolic, I told myself. Time to take a stand, for the good of your relationship and the cause of fairness. Never mind the fact that it's easier to stand up to her when you've already had an athletic bout of morning sex already, and three helpings of cheap, plastic-bottle ouzo shortly thereafter.

Don't look at her boobs, I told myself, and you can do this.

But! Myself answered me, Boobs!

I shoved such thoughts away and realized that for the last thirty seconds of mental exposition she had been talking. That was a bad sign. She could always tell when I was paying more attention to my internal monologue than to what she was say-

“Are you even listening to me?” she asked, her voice rising an octave. That was bad. Clio had been born missing that part of the brain that secreted the chemicals that allowed one to feel ashamed when arguing in public. She would, if not headed off, continue to raise her voice until I meekly complied.

There was time, however, for one last gambit.

“Yes darling Clio, I was. I just happened to be lost in fond remembrances of our wonderful time here together.” I widened my brittle smile, and imagined that I heard it crackle ever so slightly.

She looked at me for a long moment, her eyes narrow, as if she was telepathically rifling my thoughts.

“You are so full of it.”

Shit.

Before I could recover, she spun on the heel of one overpriced tourist sandal, and was gone.

I stood there in the Aegean sun, contemplating my inevitable punishment, and how long she would drag it out, when I heard someone clear their throat behind me. I turned to see out guide, Achilles, who had been the one to instigate the argument by suggesting that we take advantage of the scuba diving on this, the last day of our vacation. He had been standing not four feet away for the entire blowup, but if he had understood a word, it didn't show on his face. This could have been that his English was about as good as my Greek (which was appalling at best), or rather that he was a some sort of super-villain in disguise, spreading amorous discord for no other reason than his own amusement.

“I'm on to you,” I muttered.

“I'm sorry, gentleman?” Achilles called me, for some unknown reason, by the honorific “gentleman,” which struck me as awkwardly but delightfully genteel.

“Nothing,” I said, staring wistfully off into the distance for a moment. “Achilles, old chum, I think by means of her expedient departure, my lady love has given her consent to my previous inquiry as to whether I could secure her permission as to your proffered diversion.”

He eyes glared at me out of his little pug face, and for a moment I was sure that he had caught on to my ersatz prolixity.

“You want make scuba, or I go home and have ouzo?”

Sigh...

“Yes, Achilles, I want make scuba. THEN I want make ouzo. Ouzo for two-zo.”

Again the glare.

No one understands me.

What's in a name?

2011-04-17T20:49:00.001-07:00

It took some serious doing, but I think that I have finally hit upon the perfect title for my short story collection. And as all you wonderful typospherians have doubtlessly been on pins and needles as to my choice, I will allay your agonizing curiosity. Wait for it...

Pen and Platen: Short Stories Written the Long Way

I know, right? I couldn't be happier. Let me know what you think, however. I value feedback.

In other news, the preliminary story list has been hashed out, and appears here in tentative order:

1. To Kill a Comedian
2. The Ballad of Silas Starkweather -or- Justice Done Right
3. Inferno Redux
4. Papa and the U-boat
5. To Set a Quiver
6. In Media Res
7. Agony Column
8. Loading Dock, 2 am

There may be a couple others, but so far I think that I have achieved here the optimum mix of humor, fear, and intensity, all while keeping an eye on length and cadence. The trick is getting it all in the right order. I have also kicked around including segments from my two novels, just as teasers, but it remains to be seen whether or not that will gel with the animus of the collection proper.

Stay tuned for more updates!

Typecast: Conversations with...me.

2011-04-10T22:48:00.000-07:00

A couple of years back when I was still working on the first draft of Collision Course, I hit a bit of a stumbling block. The plot was doing well enough, but I felt that I had lost some of the emotional bond that I had with my characters. To allay this, I fed a BAROP into my typewriter and basically had a conversation with each one of them, asking them questions about themselves, their motivations, and how they planned to get what they wanted. It helped a great deal, and from time to time I use the same method to understand myself a little better. This last time I did it, however, I came upon an interesting idea. Check out the below, and we'll discuss more about it later. -M

A post about a post about a post

2011-04-06T11:23:00.000-07:00

When Strikethru posted about an article by Austin Kleon a couple days ago, I fervently scribbled the below comment, commenting afterward to my wife about how the darn thing is pert near long enough to be it's own blog entry. Annnnnd...seeing as how Blogger resolutely refuses to let me post it, it has now taken on new life of its own.

First of all, Kleon's article is great and for me, extremely relevant. I work with a friend who has been struggling with her own writing, which reads like Faulkner if he were a female from Utah. Her prose in incredibly tight and frighteningly honest, but she worries that her ideas are not original enough. I had to resist shouting Ecclesiastes 1:9 at her: "There is nothing new under the sun."

As an artist, this is of course an extremely difficult thing to learn. I remember coming up with a really solid story idea, but after hashing it out, saw a preview of a movie with the same plot.

Starring Ashton %#&%@^&* Kutcher.

Nonplussed, at least. But after some years and maturity I realized that even Shakespeare bit off the classics. Does “The Tragicall historye of Romeus and Juliet” sound familiar? It should. Even Stephen King basically plagiarizes Metalious's Peyton Place. Give it a read sometime, and then immediately afterward read Dolores Claiborne. Note similar characters with the exact same names.

The trick, of course, is to know where the line is, and not to stray into the territory of people like Todd "please make everyone die, amen" Goldman, of whom many a robust conversation were had in my professional document design classes.

If there is anything that taking all that said classes at UNLV (in pace requiescat) has taught me, is that no work exists in a vacuum, and that realizing the rhetorical grounding of any work, and how it relates to the entire lexicon of written text is paramount to success.

Very good stuff.

Typecast: Ex Post Failure

2011-04-03T21:22:00.000-07:00

A little dramatic? Hell no. It's crazy dramatic. But that's the kind of month it's been around here.

I should make mention, however, that since penning this typecast two days ago I have since started work on two completely awesome short stories, entitled "To Set a Quiver" and "Papa and the U-boat" respectively.

Maybe, maybe, failure makes you awesome.

Mail Call II

2011-03-10T23:02:00.000-08:00

~~Iowa.~~

Mail Call

2011-03-09T18:51:00.000-08:00

In the mail today:

Dear Mike Speegle,

I’m sorry to inform you that you have not been selected for admission to the ***** University MFA Program in Creative Writing. We had many fine applications this year, and we find ourselves forced to say no to many promising writers. If you have accepted a position in another program, please accept our congratulations.

Thank you very much for your interest in creative writing at *****. We wish you good luck with your writing in the future.

Boy, nothing makes you feel special like a rejection sent via email. In plain text no less. Not even a university seal or logo.

Things that should make you happy...

2011-03-08T20:13:00.000-08:00

...but don't: studying most the night and all the next morning for a midterm, and then having the instructor inform you that the exam has been bumped back two days.

It is possible to have an aneurysm from excessive informational buildup? Or will I merely sicken from information leakage like Johnny Mnemonic?

Stay tuned to find out!

MFA Update

2011-03-06T23:56:00.000-08:00

Studying for midterms today when another rejection letter magically appeared.

Three down, five to go.

Iowa
Texas
Hollins
UNLV
UC Irvine
Wisconsin
Michigan
Brown

MFAnxiety

2011-03-05T00:40:00.000-08:00

Still haven't heard from Iowa, Texas, UNLV, Irvine, Michigan, or Hollins yet.

Read somewhere that the longer it takes for them to get back to you, the better the chances for rejection.

Anyone know anything about acceptance/rejection timetables? Because I can't feel my face.

Untitled Typecast

2011-03-03T02:55:00.000-08:00

Double Typecast: Turn! Turn! Turn! -and- Typewriter Trauma

2011-02-27T22:53:00.000-08:00

I'm going to be honest with you, friends; this weekend I just wasn't feeling it. Maybe it's midterms looming, maybe it's the aftereffects of the last week's trauma, but regardless the result was the same. I just couldn't, for the life of me, produce any work that I liked. Typecasts, term papers, personal fiction, nothing turned out satisfactorily.

That being said I took two honest attempts at typecasting this weekend, and below are the results, such as they are. I decided to bundle them as neither, I think, it quote of the quality that it can stand alone. Thus, I present to you...

Turn! Turn! Turn!

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.
Ecclesiastes 3:1

And below, the second entry in my homage to mediocrity, Typewriter Trauma

And that's it! Judge me not, friends, on the above. I am merely, for all of my awesomeness, a man of flesh and bone. I know, I as shocked as you are.

Ouch Part II

2011-02-25T23:52:00.001-08:00

Speaking of ouch, got my first MFA rejection letter today. It wasn't one of my top choices, but that doesn't make it sting any less.

Ouch

2011-02-23T21:39:00.000-08:00

Saw this online today. Funny, but also ouch.

Phalanges don't phail me now

2011-02-21T23:02:00.000-08:00

Whoops! Ran out of paper there at the end. Guess I'm out of practice.

Oh, and for those of you following along at home, I didn't end up sending Signora Olivetti off to get her 100,000-mile tune up at Blue Moon. Turns out that I couldn't bear to part with her right now, sticky ribbon-reversal or no. The good news, however, is that the TM 5 ought to be arriving via Fedex on Wednesday! Very exciting.

The only problem? I have to think of new names for both a new typewriter AND a guitar! Heavens!

The new guitar kicking it in the workshop.

What Gen is up to while I'm typing and strumming in the workshop. We try to be very industrious after the kid goes to bed.

Typecast: Sakes alive, a TM 5!

2011-02-14T15:23:00.000-08:00

Please note the misnomer that I applied to Blue Moon Camera and Machine. I don't know what came over me.

And so I send her off, packed lovingly, to return with a brand-new friend! God speed!

The Underwood TM 5. Delightfully retro-chic! (as Gen would say)

The Linea 98. I really like Olivetti, mais...non.

Pencast: On handwriting, Vanishing Points, and a pop quiz!

2011-02-11T23:48:00.000-08:00

This was a pencast that I had every intention of posting before certain...setbacks earlier this week. Still, I couldn't wait to share the Vanishing Point with you...

MFA Season

2011-02-07T23:19:00.000-08:00

Please do not gaze in fear at the bare skull that you see before you. To paraphrase the illustrious Cobra Commander, “I was once (in possession of the face of) a maaaaan.”

What happened, you say? Whence went my once glorious visage?

MFA applications melted it off.

Sigh...

I was at work yesterday, chatting with my friend Tim while he got his application stuff together for Law School. I watched, seething with bitter-green jealousy as he dumped all of his personal information into the one-stop shop that is the LSAC web site. Bickey-bam, and he was done. Now it's just a matter of the relevant institutions cherry-picking his information out of the bucket. Mixed metaphors, why not?

Applying for multiple MFA's, on the other hand, is like test driving multiple personality disorder. Everyone, EVERYONE wants something different. 12-30 manuscript pages. 30-80 manuscript pages. A letter of intent 2 pages long. A letter of intent 500 words long. A personal CV. An informal personal statement. Send it via the web, via courier, via US Mail.

The only thing that they have in common? Application fees!

Seriously, though, I am 34 flavors of tickled pink that finally (praise Jesus!) all of my application materials have been sent off. Now it's just a matter of waiting until Mid-freakin'-March for the acceptance letters that will inevitably come pouring in...right?

In other news, the nib on my Namiki Vanishing Point pen was horribly, horribly skippy after a mere month of use, much to my chagrin. Luckily, the awesome folks at Paradise Pen exchanged it out for me no questions asked. I opted to change over to the fine from the medium, and I couldn't be happier. Keep an eye out for my inevitably horribly-written script-meme entry.

On turning 30, fancy pens, and MFA's

2010-12-13T17:55:00.000-08:00

I’m turning 30 tomorrow. I’m also choosing to embrace certain cliché’s while eschewing others. I’m not flipping out or anything, wondering where exactly the heck the years go et cetera, but I have been ruminating on the nature of maturity. I mean, I don’t know about any of you, but I certainly don’t feel like a grown-up yet. Don’t know that I ever will.

In other news I got my present from my parents a day early: a Pilot Vanishing Point clicky fountain pen. Yellow, filled with Waterman blue-black ink. It’s damned gorgeous, and it is my fervent intention to share it with you presently.

Finally, my first three graduate school applications are on their way. UC Irvine, Brown, and the University of Wisconsin-Madison are in the post, carrying a freight of my dreams with them. Yeah, dramatic, but no less true for it. Wish me luck.

Missives from the Loony Bin

2010-11-21T20:13:00.000-08:00

Behold, for I bring you glad tidings from delusionary fields, located in the countryside near the picturesque mountains of lunacy. Please, try our well-appointed rubber rooms and comfortable straightjackets!

Seriously, though, things are good. Just a mite more frantic than they’ve ever been before in my life. The wife, child and I have undergone a change of venue after police came and raided not one but two separate meth houses on my block last month. Keep in mind that the neighborhood was not five years ago brand new and full of promise. Which is to say nothing of our next door neighbor’s son who, after living in the neighborhood for a little over a week, was found to have been breaking into houses, armed with a handgun, and stealing goods that he stashed in a series of foreclosed homes.

Neat, huh?

But we’re dealing with it. I’m finishing up my second to last semester of my undergrad degree, and frantically putting together my graduate school packet. Thirty-two pages of the finest Mike Speegle material have been selected to showcase my so-called talents, a selection from my novel-in-progress, Good Friday. Starting December 10^th the packets will start their journey to the Iowa, Brown, Irvine, Texas State, UNLV, Hollins, and Michigan among a couple of alternates. Starting December 11^th, I myself will start a rigorous regimen of whimpering in the corner until I get the results. If you’re inclined towards being religious, put in a good word for me with the man upstairs.

Novel progress is good. I have switched, as I did with my last novel, over to a fountain pen and notebook combo. Weapons of choice: Hero 329 gifted to me by one LFP, and Moleskine softcover notebook. Story wise, things have taken a DARK turn. I’ve never been as much of a fan of the dark side of fiction writing; I’m more of a satire-and-lit guy myself. But the story is the boss. Still, though, I find myself peeking over my shoulder while I write, afraid that someone behind me is going to peek at what I’m writing and yell for all the room to hear “Hey! This guy is writing some crazy shit! Someone call Nurse Ratchet!”

Progress is being made, despite all the landmines. And that’s livin’, ain’t it?

Wait! I have a good excuse...

2010-11-07T21:39:00.000-08:00

…Good Friday isn’t done yet. And even I don’t have the unmitigated gall to start a new project before I’ve had the chance to type THE END on the last one. Never mind the fact that I’m in the final stages of getting my graduate school application together.

Lame, I know. But it is what it is.

Day 6

2010-09-25T23:06:00.000-07:00

Annnnd now I'm sick. Guess that's what I get for all this here writerly hedonism. Regardless, another 6,000 words today. 90,000 total, maybe another 30,000 to go? 40,000?

I need to go blow my nose.

Day 4

2010-09-23T21:19:00.000-07:00

Whoo!

Did good work today, got to the coffee shop nice and early. 8,000 words later I called Genevieve to come pick me up (I have her drop me off to "trap" me at my labors), then turned my computer off and sat outside on the porch and enjoyed the mild weather.

Mild sunshine.

A warm breeze.

Then: a part of the plot, unheeded, snapped into place damn near audibly. Then another, then another. Then all of the sudden, my computer off and in my bag, all my caffeinated drinks having been consumed for the day, the work not even on my mind, and the entire plot came together all on its own.

I tell ya, it was quite the revelation. Never before has so much plot just shown up unbidden.

Does it have anything to do with the fact that I'm not working, not worrying, not even considering any of my obligations in the world but my family and my writing?

(Shakes the Magic 8 Ball)

Signs point to yes.

Day 3

2010-09-22T22:10:00.000-07:00

Still alive. Going to be working far into the night. Going well, though.

More tomorrow.

Love,

-M

Day 2

2010-09-21T22:58:00.000-07:00

7,000 words today. A little slower, but I can at least chalk that up to the fact that I spent the first half of the day writing a position paper on free verse poetry. Fun!*

At any rate, hit up the Starbucks again, this time accompanying my fevered composing with some Earl Grey and a coffee cake…thing.

Also: I was sitting at a table, far far away from everyone else, when a youngish woman came in and scanned the room, looking for someone. After giving me the once-over to be assured that I was not “him,” she settled into a table behind me and waited for what I eventually found out was a first IRL date with a guy she met on a dating site.

Now don’t get me wrong; I actually have more than a few friends that met and forged lifelong relationships based upon online interaction. This, however, was not one of those times. Never before have I been subjected to such a pathetic display of ersatz macho prowess in my entire life. Everything story that she told, he had a better version. Every hobby that she had, he’d been doing it for longer.

Then, then he actually answered the phone in the middle of the date, for corn’s sake.

Finally, after a couple of hours of painfully awkward conversation, he asked her if she wanted to get out of there. Yes, just like in every bad romantic comedy ever. Her answer? “I suppose.”

Yow.

Seriously though, 7,000 words within spittin’ distance of painfully awkward social situations. They oughtta give me a medal.

*was not actually fun

Kamikaze Run Day 1 -or- I've had all I can stands...

2010-09-20T20:54:00.001-07:00

…and I can’t stands no more.

My schedule has been insane. Schoolstudyworkstudysleep. Rinse. Repeat. It’s not conducive to my poor receding hairline, and it’s sure as hell not conducive to writing. Which is why, gentle readers, that I have embarked on a do-or-die kamikaze mission of epic proportions.

Recently I was bemoaning my condition to the lovely and talented Genevieve, who is, it seems, suffused with boundless energy and productivity. My whining became such that she said, in what she surely must regret by now, that it would almost be beneficial if I could just up and take a week off to finish my ’09 NaNo book, Good Friday. Don’t get me wrong, she has her ulterior motives. Quite at odds with the admittedly rational-seeming Stephen King method, I let her read the first 60,000 words or so of the manuscript. And it is with no small amount of pride that I tell you that she for all of her discerning taste demanded, demanded that I finish the cusséd thing or face retribution at her hand.

Then, on the way to work the next day, suffused with equal parts malaise and exhaustion, I decided to go balls to the proverbial wall and go for it. I requested a week off from work, bought a sleeping bag, and ensconced myself in the walk-in closet to sequester myself entirely from the world until either the novel won or I did.

Almost immediately I broke my own rules and made for the nearest Starbucks, Mac notebook in hand in a very conscious parody of every hipster cad that e’er walked the earth, and got down to business. Four hours later, I am comfortable telling you that I produced no less than 10,000 words of clean copy, fueled by caffeine and high spirits.

And so it should go until I have to return to work on the 28th. As I am not being paid for this little sabbatical, the rules are clear: finish the book, and finish the book.

For those of you who are interested in my condition as I embark on this journey and where my progress lies, I shall do my best to post something every day in the way of progress. May Saint Francis de Sales, patron saint of writers lead me to good fortune on my journey.

-M

Lessons of the Week

2010-08-23T21:09:00.000-07:00

1. If you intend to do a second draft and would like to cling to your erstwhile sanity, seriously...seriously put some effort towards making sure your first draft is cogent. 'Cause otherwise? The horror. The horror.

2. The Pilot Varsity, Cadillac of disposable fountain pens, is so easily refillable. Tonight I simply grabbed the nib in one hairy paw and pulled the whole damned assembly out. Dumped some ink in and jammed it back together. Actually easier than filling my Lamy.

3. Taking Spanish 114, having taken Spanish 113 six years ago might be more of a challenge than previously estimated.

4. Taking the above Spanish class, populated primarily by (ugh) nineteen-year-olds when one is 29 is...painful. I wonder if they have a medication to inoculate one against the rage caused by under-table texting and constant giggling.

5. I am apparently a crotchety old man.

All for now. Have a lovely week!

Slow goin'.

2010-08-17T21:39:00.001-07:00

Man, this novel editing thing is no joke. I'm about a week in and at the rate I'm going my projected finish date keeps getting back a little every day. Strangely enough, during the first draft, when I was writing I just plowed forward, the words coming to me as fast as I could commit them to paper.

On the other hand, during the editing process I find myself agonizing over word choices, spending ten minutes at a go trying to perfect a sentence, a phrase, a word choice. It's terrible and surprising and grimly fascinating.

Other than that, I've started research into MFA programs, looking up information not only on the programs themselves, but the cities they're in, student culture, &c. It's one thing, I think, to make these decisions when you are on your own, young and without fetters, and another entirely when you have to take into account the well-being of your family.

Stay in school, kids. It's a lot harder when you get older.

Two Years in the Making...

2010-08-09T21:28:00.000-07:00

Whoo boy, wotta Summer. History of the English Language, Bible as Literature, Shakespeare Tragedies, and (the face-blisteringly difficult Latin 112) are now in the can, and I get two whole weeks off.

So, Mike, what are you going to do with the loads of free time that are not going to be inevitable eaten up with work?

Glad you asked. I'm-a gonna edit my novel. The one from...oh...2008. As you may well intimate from this, I'm not a big fan of rushing into anything.

So here's the plan for now. Starting yesterday, I started in on the first complete read-through Collision Course has ever received. After I'm done wincing and groaning my way through it, and having gathered an overall idea of the animus of the piece (from the Latin, nominative, masculine, singular, first declension- aaaargh!), I'm gonna do another run-through with a red pen and the fervent intention of cutting all of the wheat from the chaff (like in the story of Ruth from the book in the Old Testament of the same name where she was gleaning in the fields...ow, my brain).

After that? Page One rewrite. That's right, I'm going to write all 135,000 words again from scratch in order to cement the changes firmly into place. It should be an exciting month!

Yeah, only one month, because come September I'm going to send what I'm calling draft 1.5 off to my trusted big 7 for advice on which 40 pages or so are going to be sent off to various MFA programs. Good times.

So that's about it for now. Does anyone out there have any great tips or tricks for novel editing? Anything to make the process somewhat less painful? Should I look into any special pieces of software like Scrivener, or should I stick with the old standby of Word? Drop me a line; I could use all of the help I can get.

Summeriffic

2010-07-05T20:21:00.000-07:00

Greetings!

Well I don’t know about you kids, but for me it’s been one Hell of a Summer already. Semester one Summer classes at UNLV are in the can, and after a brief two-day respite, the second semester starts tomorrow. What does this mean? Well, combined with my work schedule it means fifteen-hour days.

Fifteen. Hour. Days.

Oh, and did I mention the fact that it’s been like 110° every single day for the last month? Yeah, that kind of thing just really adds a fun little twist to what is already a punishing schedule. Still, though, good things abound.

After this next semester ends, I’ll have three weeks off in August, during which I am going to be finally taking a stab at draft 1.5 of Collision Course. Terrifying! Then it’s off to my “ideal readers” to have them peruse it for content and readability. Super terrifying! And once they are done reducing what little self-confidence I had to something that a smithereen would tower over, I’m going to have to demarcate a forty-page section to send off with my sundry MFA applications. Paralytically, apocalyptically, mind-rendingly terrifying!

But kind of exciting, too. That is, so long as I can ignore all those little hairs that fall out every time I think about it.

Good Friday is coming along at glacial speed, but still lives. I also managed to craft a couple of short stories in my pocket Moleskine while waiting on slot machines to reboot (it takes a while!) and notes are in the works for a heist story that, ideally, will see the light during this year’s NaNo.

And that’s about it! I’m still hale and hearty, loving writing, and looking forward with bated breath to Silent Type II: Electric Boogaloo!

Lend Me Your Ears

2010-06-04T23:42:00.000-07:00

Friends,

Your humble servant offers up this pithy communique to inform you that Mike Speegle continues to draw breath. He has neither slipped the mortal coil and made for the Elysium fields, nor has he eschewed all technology forthwith and become a sackcloth-clad hermit, ensconced in hillside hut.

No, rather he finds himself but a tempest-tossed Argonaut, braving the simultaneous maws of a dread Scylla that is work and a fateful Charybdis that is school. Would that he had but one slender moment to himself he would ascent from his dire straits and frolic amongst the good people of this sphere once again.

It is in fondest hope that I entreat you not to forget he who is me, and I not you.

Best,

-M

Quick Update and Survey

2010-04-30T01:21:00.001-07:00

Thanks to everyone for the encouragement as I went through another in my ongoing series of writerly nervous breakdowns. Since my last missive, I have goaded my word count up into the mid-60,000's. Maybe at this rate I'll have it done by the crack of doom.

Quick survey: when you are writing, do you ever feel the emotions that you are writing about?

I ask because it very occasionally happens to me. I'll be writing something sad and I'll realize that I am frowning apocalyptically, or some such. Tonight was the first night, however, that I got a physical reaction. I was writing a scene where one of the characters is walking an orchard road alone in the early morning, and they hear a sound from somewhere off in the trees. They ignore it for a couple of seconds, but then they realize that the sound had taken on an air of being deliberate, like something off in the trees is intentionally being unsubtle so that the character knows something is out there. She starts to panic a little, and has the terrified random thought that the sound is almost like laughter. It was here that I looked down at my arms and to see that they were covered in goosebumps, but not the "there's draft in here" goosebumps, or the "this is such a well-played piano concerto" goosebumps, but there huge, hard, raised things, like little eggs.

Yeah, it may have been a little bit of a contrived scene, but I realized that I was freakin' myself the hell out, and that it was time to stop for the night.

And to go to sleep with the hall light on.

Wait...THAT'S my word count?

2010-04-19T03:10:00.000-07:00

There are several undocumented, internal rules that I adhere to in my everyday life. Never tell a girl she looks fat. Never tell a customer what kind of day you’re really having. Never buy a steak for less than $15. You know, basic survival guidelines.

Another gem I try to go by is: don’t turn your blog into a personal pity party (because A: you’re too old for that kind of thing and B) you’re not “emo,” whatever that is {a large, flightless bird, perhaps?}).

But, like every TV cop worth his salt, I break the rules when need be. I’m a loose cannon baby, so before the chief kicks me off the force for all of that property damage, I have to admit that I’m a wreck right now. Remember NaNo 2009? Yeah, good times. We laughed, we loved, we engaged in lengthy forum conversations about ancient scribeomechanical thingamabobs. A good time was generally had by all.

And then, failure. For a host of (admittedly lame) reasons I did not finish in time. In fact, thought I have been stalwart in my dedication to write every day, I realized something horrible just this evening: Good Friday just passed the 50,000-word mark.

That’s right, 50,000 words in ≈ six months. Now, my math skills may be a tad rusty, but that puts me at roughly 275 words per day.

275. Words. Per. Day.

And you know what’s worse? I can’t even being to fathom the hellish process of editing 2008’s Collision Course until I am done with GF. The urge to lie face down under my desk and sigh like a proper despondent novelist is nigh-overwhelming.
Pathetic, right? I mean here I am complaining that my art isn’t going well. I may as well be a 16-year-old wearing eyeliner. Jiminy Christmas.

In other news, though, the immensely talented and generous Elizabeth of Little Flower Petals recently gifted me with an equally delightful Alphasmart 3000, which is (wait for it…) delightful to use. Could it break me out of my rut? Will Good Friday be done in time for 2010’s NaNo?

Stay tuned!

Pencast: Yea though I walk through some kind of valley...

2010-04-06T01:00:00.000-07:00

What's that? You yearn in your heart of hearts for more hastily scribbled pencasts, but this time you want something from a slightly more exotic locale than my living room? And you further yearn for photographic proof thereof? Ask and ye shall receive.

Yeah, so I'm no mpclemens when it comes to the photography, but you get the point. Oh, and I think that I'll go ahead and rip a page out of Elliott's book and throw a trivia question at ya: In what novel does a raven named Zoltan play a small part, and for bonus points, what did he "et?" The winner will get nothing...nothing at all.

P.S. the above pencast was created using a Ballograf Epoca (plastic) on a Moleskine somethingoranother.

Happy Easter!

2010-04-04T13:00:00.001-07:00

They say that the memory is the first thing to go...

2010-03-29T18:11:00.000-07:00

Boy o boy. Gen has only had her blog up for like eons, and still I have forgotten to mention it.

Fair warning though: only click here if you like things that are awesome. Oh...and the occasional picture of me. I know, I know, it couldn't be helped.

So, Mike, have any major revelations on vacation? Yup.

2010-03-16T01:40:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago Genevieve approached me with a look in her eye that sent chills down my spine. Sensing imminent peril, I asked her what it was she had on her mind.

“I think,” she said, “that it has been a long time since we have gone on vacation.”

“OK.” Said I.

“I further think,” she said a slow grin spreading across her face, “that we should go somewhere in a couple weeks, maybe just for a couple days.”

“OK…” I said, trepidation creeping in around the edges.

“Annnnnd…I get to pick where it is.”

“Ohhhhh-kay.”

And then a couple of days went by, me blissfully unaware of any fiendish machinations that may or may not have been going on behind the scenes. Days later she re-broached the subject, Expedia booking papers in her hand.

“We’re going to St. George, because it’s close, and there are some cool antiques there.”

“Sounds good!”

“And, we’re staying at a bed and breakfast.”

“Sounds…good?” We’d never been to a bed and breakfast before. Still, it sounded OK. I was still, however, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Yes it does! Now…ask me what it’s called.”

“OK, what is it called?”

“The Seven Wives Inn. It’s an old polygamist homestead.”

Ker-plunk went the other shoe. Now, don’t get me wrong, I respect other peoples’ religious principles, and brother, if you have the sheer iron will to contend with more than one spouse, then more power to ya. But still, a 200-year-old house that hid secret wives, it was a bit of a blindside.

Blah blah blah, driving through the desert, and many et cetera’s later, we arrived at the inn, and I have not the slightest masculine quibble in saying that it was the most adorable thing since kittens wearing hats. Check it.

Yeah I know, right?

Without going into too many details, we had a blast. When we weren’t moseying around town and peering into shop windows, we just kinda bunked down in the room and read. I even got a chance to sit out on the balcony and write on Signora Olivetti. Was it idyllic? Well let me ask you something, pal: does Little Flower Petals like poetry? Does Strikethru like the IPRC? Does mpclemens like cackling and rubbing his hands together at the concept of byzantine phtotmajigs? Yes. Dear sweet merciful God YES.

More importantly, though, I need to relate something to you here. Lately, during the last, oh let’s say year or so, I have been suffused with ennui. Malaise. The screaming purple ho-hums. Sure, I’ve been enjoying every minute with my family and my writing, but the future for some reason seemed foggy. As out cryptic friend the magic 8-ball would say, “reply hazy, ask again later.” Every night, awake in bed, I asked myself what it was that I wanted, and what was I going to do to get it?

Then, in a stroke of good ol’ Greeky deus ex machina, the answer came to me in a book: After the Workshop by John McNally. In this book, this wacky tome of sloth and redemption, I read about a man, a man who shared adventures in which bed-breakfasts, St. George, and typewriters are all mentioned. Keep in mind, friends, that I read this while lying in bed at a bed-and-breakfast in St. George with my typewriter by my side.

Now…I’m no biblical scholar, but I think that God has a way about him. Sometimes he calls your name, subtly, in the night, like. Sometimes he creates a circumstance in which you can have an opportunity to shine. But other times, he places a giant kind of omnipotent megaphone directly against the eardrum of your soul and shouts so loud you can feel it in your pancreas. In this case, the message was “HEY MIKE! YOU NEED TO FINISH SCHOOL AND ENROLL IN AN MFA PROGRAM! MAYBE THE ONE AT THE UNIVERSITY OF IOWA, LIKE IN THE BOOK!”

Listen, I see myself as a pretty smart guy, and I, and no one else, controls my destiny. But sometimes…just sometimes, I feel a guiding right there on my back.

So! That’s-a what I’m gonna do. I’m going to finish the English degree that I started all those long years ago, and then I’m going to apply for the Iowa Writers' Workshop. Then you know what’s a-gonna happen? Those folks who invested heavily in hinges and hosiery are going to see a fat payday, because I’M going to knock their socks off and blow the door off the joint.

So it is written, so it shall be.

Mike out!

6:54

2010-03-08T20:40:00.000-08:00

I try to think of myself as fair-minded in my dealings with people who are employed in what can kindly be labeled as the “nuisance” professions. I am polite with telemarketers, door-to-door salesmen, and so forth. I mean, I know it may sound trite, but a little kindness goes a long way. A whole lotta folks are just tryin’ to make a buck…

But on the other hand, there are parking enforcement officers. Specifically, the parking enforcement officers at UNLV. See, Gen and I spent the weekend at a nice bed and breakfast in St. George, UT. I’ve pretty much been working non-stop for a handful of years, so’s we though that a little three-day break would do us some good. I’ll get to all that later, but suffice it to say that we had such a good time that we seriously reconsidered just staying another day.

But…well…I have a class at UNLV on Monday nights and responsibility took hold and I just couldn’t miss it. Plus, there was going to be a test review. So, we drive the hundred or so miles into town, rest a bit, and then I’m off to class.

So here’s the part where I’m to blame for all this. UNLV charges for parking. Yeah, after spending three-thousand dollars on classes and books for a state school, after paying an extra fee for internet classes (and I’m still not entirely sure why it costs them more if I pay for my own ISP and don’t go to campus for ¾ of my classes), UNLV expect me to pay for a parking permit for the one class that I attend per week. The class, she starts at 7, and lo and behold, I found out that parking enforcement ends at 7 as well. So I thinks to myself, I thinks, say Mike, let’s go ahead and park at like 6:55-ish, and things should be all good.

Foolish, I know.

So I drive back from vacation, a little down to have it over so quickly, and I park and run to class, only to find that it has been cancelled. Yeah, I came back to town early all for nothing. Another night in that comfy bed, with all the quiet comfort that small cities can afford, and all for naught. Well, as our friends in the berets say, c’est la vie.

Then, of course, I mope back to my car, not gone ten minutes, and find THIS under my wiper blade.

Yeah, that’s right. 6-effing-fifty-four. A $20 fine for parking in the lot for 6 minutes before parking enforcement packs it in for the night. In a lot of thousands of spaces but filled by a couple of dozen cars, someone went ahead and found the time to give me a ticket. Officer p42 of the University of Nevada Las Vegas Parking and Transportation Services, we salute you in your brave commitment to dropping tickets on people already experiencing strain of the monetary cost of bettering themselves through education. We give you a double commendation for doing so at a time when tuition fees are on the rise again. Please continue to protect out giant, empty expanses of asphalt six minutes at a time.

OK...the NEW Winner is...

2010-03-05T23:43:00.000-08:00

Little Flower Petals!

Sorry Cowchipper. I hate to be that guy, but time waits for no (wo)man.

LFP, since the magical random number generator chse you as the first runner up, hit me up via email with your addy and I will send you the goods! Congrats!

Ahem I said, the winner is...

2010-03-04T00:06:00.001-08:00

...still Cowchipper. Please oh please drop me a line at my email addy or reply to this post, post haste. If I dinnae hear from ya by the end of the week I will have to re-draw...so let me hear from ya!

Nibcast: Lenten Introspection

2010-03-01T20:40:00.001-08:00

And the Winner Is...

2010-03-01T11:18:00.000-08:00

Cowchipper! Congrats!

Drop me a line via email and I'll send your prizes!

Just Write

Typospherian Interview: Richard Polt

Valentine WIN!

Typospherian Interview: Mike Clemens

Pencast: Finally!

Antares Parva et Ephemera

Levenger Bomber Jacket Folio Review

A Winner is Them!

Last Chance!

Typecast: I call it Double Christmas

Merry Christmas!

So you want to be a writer, huh? Pt. 2, Edit Boogaloo

Comment Contest!

So you want to be a writer, huh?

Typecast: On heartbreak

Physical versus digital

Typecast: Pen and Platen is live!

Photocast: It's Alive!

Single-mindedness and attendant physical distress

Cartography *Mildly Spoilerific*

Typecast: Scope and Change

A question of burning

Just call me Hephaestus

Contest winners!

The Big Break-Up

Typecast: NaNoesque

Just in wood-case

Typecast: Cover art contest!

Pencast: A question of character

Typecast: A cut of the Kindle capital

Typecast: Today's Highlights

Good Readin'

Additives

The three R's: Reading, wRiting, sepaRation axiety

Typecast: The kindness of strangers typecasters

Typecast: Seattle Type-in Highlights

Pencast: Ode to Lamy Joy

Me and Sleeping Beauty

2:51 am

Typecast: Write place, write time

Kindle versus Nook: This time it's for reads

Typecast: Antique is the new old

Typecast: So happy to desert the desert

Typecast: Ch-ch-changes (Oh look out you typecasters)

Wait...what day is it?

Pen and Platen Free Preview: Gratuitous Re-Post

What's in a name?

Typecast: Conversations with...me.

A post about a post about a post

Typecast: Ex Post Failure

Mail Call II

Mail Call

Things that should make you happy...

MFA Update

MFAnxiety

Untitled Typecast

Double Typecast: Turn! Turn! Turn! -and- Typewriter Trauma

Ouch Part II

Ouch

Phalanges don't phail me now

Typecast: Sakes alive, a TM 5!

Pencast: On handwriting, Vanishing Points, and a pop quiz!

MFA Season

On turning 30, fancy pens, and MFA's

Missives from the Loony Bin

Wait! I have a good excuse...

Day 6

Day 4

Day 3

Day 2

Kamikaze Run Day 1 -or- I've had all I can stands...

Lessons of the Week

Slow goin'.

Two Years in the Making...

Summeriffic

Lend Me Your Ears

Quick Update and Survey

Wait...THAT'S my word count?

Pencast: Yea though I walk through some kind of valley...

Happy Easter!

Cartography Mildly Spoilerific

Ahem I said, the winner is...