My pre-order of “Taste of Wrath” by @MattFnWallace arrived the other day. It’s the 7th & final(?) course in his Sin Du Jour series, the dessert to his sumptuous banquet, & I just dropped everything to devour it.
I have no idea how to describe this rowdy, genre-blending series except to use phrases like “catering is hell —literally”, “zombie clowns”, & “killer bunny”. It was horrifying & hilarious by turns; and always wonderfully, wonderfully weird.
Bravo, sir, bravo. #SinDuJour
If you have 25 or so minutes, this looks to be the start of a solid series of videos on writing by @MattFnWallace. He opens with his observations on writing action scenes (which I've been personally avoiding like the plague, because I'm terrible at it).
It's good stuff, although I think his intro music could use some polish. 🙂
"The Ways I Lie: Writing ALL The Action"
Every single one of my toots is an iconoclastic gem except for this one.
There’s something about returning home and settling back in after a long trip that almost feels like it undoes the reality of having taken that trip. It doesn’t erase the memory, but it makes the memory seem unreal or even like recalling a dream. Re-entering your normal reality and finding it untouched by your travels even if you are or something, I don’t know. I don’t think there’s a word for that concept, but it’s a thing. Somebody look into that.
Catching up on @MattFnWallace vlogs today while I drink coffee before I start packing for our trip. If you aren't watching them, you should! https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC5SoJ6YD1CfToI60ZQOxlOA #TeamHamshackle
I get anxious lying in bed at night and it keeps me awake. I get these momentary bursts of panic and urgency. It’s all about my career. In the quiet and the dark I feel it not moving forward, feel the weight of everything I don’t have. It sparks this impulse to get up and DO something immediately to advance things. But there’s nothing to be done at 1:00 a.m. on a Thursday. No email or tweet or even writing 1k words will break things open. Eventually it passes. And I know I just have to wait.
Pursuant to earlier! My favorite movie scenes involving wedding rings...
1. Brandon Lee psychometrically sifts stolen rings, The Crow.
2. Chris Lambert is caught smuggling his ring under his tongue into future prison, Fortress.
3. Whistler retrieves his ring from behind the gas pump, Blade II.
4. Denzel gets back his co-worker's stolen ring. USING A HAMMER. The Equalizer.
5. Not a scene, but Cobb still wears his ring in dreams, but not in the real world, Inception.
Have y'all got any others?
When I was a pro-wrestler I was fascinated (and confused) by the lengths to which the guys who took theirs seriously went to protect their wedding rings. Some wore them WHILE they wrestled, wrapping tape around them on their finger. I heard Chavo Guerrero worked with his UNDER HIS TONGUE. That seemed so extreme to me, but now I get it. I've been married three weeks and I already feel anxious and even alarmed when separated from my ring. I've never attached meaning to an object so quickly/deeply.
Is there an instance that's literally nothing but pics of dogs? There has to be, right? This is the internet.
You're not afraid you won't/can't finish writing the book, you're not even afraid it'll suck, you're afraid no one will care. You're afraid it doesn't/won't/can't ever matter. You're afraid you've arrived so late the party is over and no one told you where the after-party is cuz you're not cool enough. But here's the thing: Yours matters as much as any book ever written if it's genuine, if you believe in what you're doing. There is no "good," there's only true. Write true and it'll be worth it.
My Personal Self-Governing Only-Applies-To-Me Mastodon Doctrine So Far (Rough, Incomplete Draft):
1. No self-promo
2. No rage/negativity
3. Write/create things I can't/don't write on any of my other social media platforms
4. Find people who want to be magic cyborg judo sparkle assassins and like to party
5. Make them magic cyborg judo sparkle assassins
He answered the door to find a stranger there, spittle dripping from their hard, determined face.
“Are you Jim?” the stranger asked him.
The stranger dropped two objects at his feet; one a black eye mask, the other a square of torn red textile.
“What is this?”
“The Lone Ranger’s Mask and the piece of Superman’s cape I tugged,” the stranger replied. “Now prepare to be messed around with...Jim.”
“Listen, I don’t know—“
“NO ONE TELLS ME WHAT TO DO!” the stranger thundered.
I’ve decided Mastodon is going to be a self-promo-free zone for me, at least for a while. That shit is so deeply ingrained in how I operate/exist in social media the very idea of using a platform without promo’ing feels bizarre and unnatural. Which is reason enough to force a spiritual cleansing on at least one version of my digital self. Basically I’m giving myself a Mastodon enema. And that’s either the worst or greatest phrase ever. Maybe both.
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