Since 3 a.m. last night, I have been singing the praises of The Avengers, the über-anticipated epic directed by one of the deities of fanbois everywhere Joss Wheedon. Now while this may make me sound like I’m looking down my nose at fanbois and geeks, I disagree — I’m just practicing full transparency, just as I practice in my life a blatant display of geekiness. It’s part of my job. It’s part of my life. I have no shame being a geek. It’s who I am.

This morning (as in the midnight showing) Pip and I saw what I would argue is Joss Whedon’s second-best film (still not as shiny as his best) but his greatest triumph as a screenwriter and filmmaker. Whedon took four of Marvel’s heaviest hitters, threw in three more for good measure, shook well, and created a script and a movie that was balanced, entertaining, and good fun. And when I say fun, I mean “original Iron Man” fun. Already on IMDB and Rotten Tomatoes, the reviews are coming in and the movie will, as summer blockbusters do, raise the bar for other movies of its ilk…

I will go on to say, though, if Battleship breaks The Avengers records, I am seriously going to wrap up this blog and hide. For a decade.

There was, though, one venue that did not care for The Avengers: The New York Times. Perhaps the one voice against the film would have gone unnoticed had Samuel L. Jackson not channeled co-star Mark Ruffalo’s Hulk and gone on a Twitter rant.

The backlash, some of which I admit to piling on to, comes across as fanboi rage. It would be just one more incident of fanboi rage that makes geeks look like idiots playing World of Warcraft in the basement of their home, but what makes this fanboi rage different is Samuel L.M.F. Jackson (and you know what the MF stands for…) leading the charge. But why? It’s just a sole negative review, right, amongst a tsunami of positive ones, right?

I can’t speak for Nick Fury but I can speak for myself, and when I did on my Facebook page, comments continued to prod at my (apparent) opinion of the New York Times review, the summer blockbuster, and how this movie really won’t in the long run further anything in the genre other than Joss Whedon.

Instead of ranting on Facebook, I decided to bring my rant here. Why? Because I feel the need to explain myself…again.

My own stand against the New York Times review is not because (gasp!) they didn’t like The Avengers, because there will be Marvel fans who will refuse to go mainstream and simply protest for protest’s sake. I take more umbrage in the Times’ apparent disdain for the genre on the whole. Admittedly, the review could have been a lot worse, but it does come across a bit condescending. For example…

“The light, amusing bits cannot overcome the grinding, hectic emptiness, the bloated cynicism that is less a shortcoming of this particular film than a feature of the genre.”

This was the point of the review that made me blink, but not as bad as…

“The price of entertainment is obedience.”

Hold on — was the New York Times review telling me I was being manipulated to enjoy this film? “Obey — as this is a summer blockbuster…” or some such?

At this point, I was reminded of another review from the Times…

“The true perversion, though, is the sense you get that all of this illicitness has been tossed in as a little something for the ladies, out of a justifiable fear, perhaps, that no woman alive would watch otherwise. While I do not doubt that there are women in the world who read books like Mr. Martin’s, I can honestly say that I have never met a single woman who has stood up in indignation at her book club and refused to read the latest from Lorrie Moore unless everyone agreed to The Hobbit first. Game of Thrones is boy fiction patronizingly turned out to reach the population’s other half.”

I have grown tired — very tired — of how Science Fiction and Fantasy is regarded as the red-headed stepchild of storytelling genres, and regardless of accomplishments like Game of Thrones or The Avengers, the NYT has fed into that with ongoing commentary, which I found to be a shallow look at what is a complex, well-written series. The snide remarks about The Avengers, a movie that was a real gamble no matter how you look at it…

And yes, before I get the pile-on about the formulaic summer blockbuster with all the pretty people in the leads, The Avengers was a gamble because Marvel started up the hype four years ago. This movie could have been a steaming turd ala Green Lantern because —Whedonites, prepare your own retaliations now — Joss Whedon isn’t perfect. Dollhouse, for me, was proof of that.

Whedon was given a challenge and he surpassed it. Four years of hype, of buildup, of expectation, all fell into place with this film; but leave it to the New York Times — just as they did with Game of Thrones — to pretend that the argument is invalid, and it’s just more of that Science Fiction and Fantasy crap, designed to appeal to the gamer crowds exclusively.

Perhaps I’m snapping in light of things like people who claim “Oh I don’t read that science fiction stuff, that’s just not my thing…” while they say only a moment later “Oh yeah, I’m reading The Hunger Games on my Kindle right now…” A great comeback to “That sci-fi stuff is too weird for me…” is “Really? What was the last title you tried reading?” To date, only one person has ever come back to me with an answer to that — it was Lani Tupu and the book was Stranger in a Strange Land.

Good on ya, Lani.

My ire is not against the Times’ review. It’s the Times’ attitude about Science Fiction and Fantasy being beneath them. There’s a lot more to this genre than death rays, swords, and magic. When done right, it is about people and the extraordinary challenges they face; and if we are really given a terrific story with amazing characters, it is how we can learn from their struggles and face our own. The NYT critics apparently do not see it in that same light, and as they fail to understand it simply think it’s tiresome.

And to my friends on Facebook who drove me here, no, I’m not angry on you disagreeing with me. That’s not my style. I was growing punchy in my own failure to make clear what I was reacting to. Disagree with me all you want, so long as we’re having the same debate. Right?

Maybe it’s sleep depravation and not fanboi rage that is currently driving me. I’ll take a nap. Let you know how I feel tomorrow…

I’ve met a lot of incredible people in what will be ten years (come May) as an author. One real stand-out started as a star-struck business proposition between myself and Lani Tupu. People know him best for Captain Crais in Farscape, but Lani is a pretty multi-talented, multi-faceted dude. Artist. Teacher. Just an all-around good guy. There are two conversations with him that have always stayed with me, and this weekend one of those conversations came back with a vengeance.

We (me, Lani, and our agent, Jean Orrico) were having a post-convention meal, following the first run of our workshop, From Page to Stage. I remember the subject turned to acting, and how I had resigned that I would not be returning to the stage.

Now this was before I had met Pip in person and understood just how dangerous it is to anger a kiwi. And Lani, when that resignation left my lips, was angry.

“You never stop being an actor!” he stated (quite passionately), “The stage will always be with you, and it will be waiting for you when you return.”

It was more about the zeal behind his statement that stuck with me, and maybe at the time I thought “Spoken like a true-blue actor.” Lani’s sentiment was well intended, but I just felt like I had taken a different path at that crossroad.

This weekend, that changed.

Now on Audiobook Creation Exchange, Tee Morris is available for work.

Pip and I sat down and we looked up a variety of titles. Jules Verne. Non-fiction about Lincoln. Even a bit of erotica. All falling into my price range for audio. I went on and uploaded my samples, completed my profile, and fired up the mic, this time for ACX.

This shouldn’t feel weird, you know? I’ve been podcasting since 2005, been offering my voice to a variety of projects. While the actual audition — rehearsing the prepared piece, firing up the mic, and recording — is very easy for me, it still feels very weird. Maybe it’s because I thought this avenue of my life was done. Sure, I get my actor’s fix with podcasting, but I no longer needed to worry about the audition process. Here I was this weekend, though, stepping back on to a virtual stage and reading for a role. I had stepped back to those times when I would walk to the edge of a stage and say “Hi, I’m Tee Morris and my audition piece is…” to a room of shadows. The audition itself was far less stressful than when I was acting. At least at first. I didn’t have to worry about my hairstyle, my headshot, or even what I was wearing. Just pull myself up to the SM7B and hit the red button.

But this weekend of aural auditions did make me step back to that life of wondering and waiting. It’s a special kind of neurotic state that you won’t ever see portrayed in Smash.  Let me walk you through it…

You get to the audition, get handed a script, and after a few minutes with it, you give a reading. Something clicks. You feel it, and even you think you gave a great reading. If, however, you’re not seeing others audition, you have nothing or no one with whom to compare your reading. Then you begin to wonder “Could I have placed inflection someplace else?” Or how about “Did I really capture what the director wants in the character?” As you hear nothing in reply to an audition (and no, it’s not like in Smash where an agent calls you at random times of the day…), you start to second-guess what you did on that audition, an audition that you had described earlier as rock solid. Then, when you step up for your next audition, the previous audition rears its ugly head and suddenly you are wondering if you really are as talented as people tell you.

Sounds like fun, huh?

ACX auditions, I’m finding, take this mind-bending experience to a whole new level. It’s no longer based on how you look but entirely on how you sound. There’s no direction, no quick pointers, no idea what people want. It’s all on you, how you interpret the narration, and the characters within the sample. It’s all about you, one blind reading, and the kind of voice you have…

Okay, let’s get right to the point — it’s coming down to the kind of voice I have. The decision of whether or not I am cast in a title comes down to my personal bass, tenor, and dialect.

As crazy as this may sound, I’ve actually missed this.

Whether it is fiction or non-fiction, this is a new kind of creative endeavor between artistic strangers. Yes, the audition is all about my voice, but it is also with how I handle the text. How I handle the text is a reflection on how I work, on my eye and ear for detail, and my abilities to give prose a compelling aural quality. It’s a new kind of collaboration, and I’m feeling an insatiable curiosity to see what is possible in this new opportunity. So, once again, I find myself checking the casting calls, seeing what’s available, and firing up the mic. I find myself, in a weird little way, back at the crossroads I thought were far in the distance behind me.

No, I’m not ditching the job hunt or dropping my writing projects. I’m just keeping an open mind, and anxious to see where this calling will lead.

Lani, you were right. You were right.

Roughly six weeks ago, as you might have heard on a recent episode of The Shared Desk, a friend of ours — Lisa-Anne Moore — introduced me, Pip, and Sonic Boom to the new Activision game Skylanders: Spyro’s Adventures. Sonic Boom was intrigued by the concept of this game, that concept being that at any point you can swap out characters within a game, all dependent on what you need at that moment. The Boom perked up, however, when she heard about a character named “Sonic Boom.”

Imagine her elation when she found the character of Sonic Boom was a girl.

From the Skylanders Portal Masters’ website, here’s Sonic Boom’s story:

Long ago, Sonic Boom took refuge high atop a mountain peak in the far reaches of Skylands, hoping to keep her griffin hatchlings safe.  But despite her precautions, a devious wizard tracked her down and placed a wicked curse on the griffin eggs.  Once hatched, the young hatchlings can live for only mere moments before they magically return to their shells… only to be hatched again in an endless cycle.  Wanting to prevent such evil from happening to others, Sonic Boom joined the Skylanders and has trained her young to defend Skylands each time they are hatched.

In light of how toy makers stereotype girls, this makes me smile big.

How are toymakers stereotyping girls? If you were not one of the 3.7 million people who saw this video, take a moment:

And take a look at this search result for video games targeted for girls.

Seriously?! Cooking Mama 3?!?

Okay, so maybe girls want to play games that deal with virtual cooking, virtual child rearing, and virtual horse camps, but don’t we game to escape reality? And sure, there are games that feature strong characters out there that are women. Lara Croft. Resident Evil. The Femme-Sheppard option in Mass Effect. But as super-blogger Megan Howard points out, comic book and video game heroines tend to be less about getting the job done and more about being hyper-sexualized automatons. Like heavily-armed Victoria Secrets’ models. Before the comic book geeks tell me about Starfire’s propensity for sex — yeah, sure, I get that, but come on…

Come. On.

And as a dad of a little girl, it concerns me that my kid appears limited to her gaming to either “Imagine Babies” or armored anime girls that are lacking armor across two blatantly obvious targets…

Lemme guess — the blades bounce off, right?

That was before we at Case de Morris discovered Skylanders.

In her second week of playing, after spending the week telling us that she was going to be selecting Eruptor (picture the Hulk if he were made of molten rock and could spew lava) as her latest recruit, Sonic Boom surprised us by selecting Whirlwind. At first we wondered what was up as a winged unicorn was a big step away from a volcanic monster.

Then we started playing Whirlwind, and on leveling up the Boom picked up a “Rainbow Strike” power. Here’s where I cued up the cutesy-cutesy music because, yeah, Whirlwind is a girl and part-unicorn so rainbows have to be in here. So she can fly, and her horn shoots rainbows, strikes down enemies, heals her allies…

Wait. Hold on. She does what?

Turns out this half-unicorn-half-dragon is the Cleric of the Skylanders realm. You know, a Cleric — that throw-away “Why the hell are you in this campaign again?” character class that is standing over you right after an ogre ambush, asking “How’s that axe wound to the gut, Tex? Stings a bit, don’t it?” In one night, our own Sonic Boom turned Whirlwind into the most important character in her collection. She also gave Whirlwind a new nickname: Featherstrike. (She came up with that all on her own.)

And the more we play, the more we’re discovering that all the female characters of Skylanders are some serious ladies not to be trifled with.

This weekend, Pip and I celebrated five weeks of fantastic grades and behavior from the Boom by picking up for ourselves some Skylanders. Pip picked up Cynder, and I unboxed Hex.

Now take a look at this black magic woman.

Is she wearing a chain mail bikini? No. Is her upper chest doubling as a flotation device? No. Is she, at any point in this game, making me a sandwich? No.

Is she one of the most powerful of the Skylanders? Three words: Long. Range. Attacks.

It was halfway through my first level with Hex that I figured out I could take out a few baddies from a considerable distance. The more I leveled her up, the more distance her powers covered.

Comparing the ladies of Skylanders to the men made me truly appreciate the game on a whole new level. With air-tight writing and voicework, this game is a blast to play with the Boom; and we will both admit that after she goes to bed, Pip and I play because we enjoy it that much. On a parental level, I love that Activision and Toys for Bob went out of their way to make the details of this game appealing to both boys and girls. While the men breathe fire, fly with hydro-powered jet packs, and belly flop the bad guys, the women bring it with dark lightening strikes, undead magic, and tempest attacks. Finally, we got games that work for everybody, where girl characters aren’t pink, fluffy, big-eyed lintballs floating from adventure to adventure using the power of laughter to vanquish their foes. The girls of Skylanders are tapping kegs of whomp-ass and keeping it classy.

Now, we’re in a new week and quickly approaching a crossroads. We are short two elements — Fire and Life. The earlier mentioned Eruptor is a Fire element, and he’s got a lot of power. Who do we have representing the Life elementals?

And here’s what she can do…

My advice to the Boom? Go green.

Yes, I disabled the comments.

Why?

Because some of the comments on the YouTube channels go out of their way to spoil what is something positive from the White House. Therefore, in light of the mudslinging and Fox News treatment of President Barack Obama, I’m preserving this little moment of bad-assery for what it is — a flawless gem.

And if you’re a fan of blues, it’s all the sweeter.

If you want to slam me or slam this moment, you can do it on your blog or elsewhere. Or, you can enjoy some righteous blues.

Your choice.

It’s hard to believe, but last Friday marked a month since my last day at Intersections.

For the past four weeks, I’ve taken in a lot. Good and bad. Of course, the irony of all this is that when I was hired by Intersections, the Recession was in full swing. And at the beginning of 2012, where a variety of news outlets from around the world were all noticing an economic turnaround at the beginning of 2012, I was downsized.

In this month, from the day I was let go to now, I’ve learned a lot. Granted, each layoff is different. Some involve severance packages. Others do not. Some employers treat you with respect. Others waste no time in getting you out of the door. It’s hard to predict how bad news like this will come, but I can say — after a month of letting the dust settle — there are at least five things to keep in mind when Corporate America pulls the rug out from under you.

5. Don’t panic. It’s easy to do when the news hits; and while quoting Douglas Adams may seem kind of trite coming from a geek, it really is true. Flipping out is not going to help anyone, and it’s going to make you look like a chump. I’ll admit, I felt a twinge of panic when I was told about how long my health coverage would last. I took a deep breath, and thought, “Don’t panic. Go out with class.” When all the formalities were done, I looked the executive in the eye and said, “It’s been a good run. Thank you.”

Keep it together. Keep it classy.

4. DO. NOT. MELTDOWN. THROUGH SOCIAL MEDIA. When I was packing up my office, I saw that my TweetDeck was still running. I felt an urge to tweet “So this is what it’s like to get laid off.” but with my fingers over the keyboard, I paused. I thought about it. Really thought about it.

I immediately took my hands away, and shut down my computer.

What would have sharing my real-time bad news accomplished? Making Intersections look bad? Rally my troops so I can feel better for myself? Light a fuse for a complete online rant? Social Media has a bad reputation for being all about the vitriol because of people melting down as if Twitter or Facebook is a therapist’s couch. Remember that when you go public on social networks, you are going public. Everyone and anyone can see it. How do you want to be remembered at your job and represented online?

A Social Media Meltdown is nothing more than a chump move, and it’s burning bridges that you might want to leave alone.

3. Get organized. By the time I got home (roughly thirty minutes after leaving the parking lot), Pip looked up and said to me “There is a file on your Dropbox with job leads. Good hunting.” I sat down and immediately checked over my LinkedIn page, and even made the investment into a “Premium” account in order to get a few extra bells and whistles.

Within twenty-four hours, I had applied for 16 available Social Media jobs. This week, the number is now 76.

You want to keep your cool, but that doesn’t mean you stay idle. Spend an hour a day searching for jobs, then make one day out of your week the day you go out job hunting. Keep a spreadsheet so you can track what you’ve applied for and when, and keep track of any responses — even from staffing agencies — you get from your applications.

2. Keep it classy when reaching out for references. When downsized, keep this in mind: It’s not personal. This means that you have a window of opportunity —preferably within the first week of the layoff — in getting some good references from where you work.

I reached out to the executives I dealt with directly and sent the following note:

I wanted to thank you for two-and-a-half terrific years with your company, Intersections. I’m looking back on my time with you all, and I’ve got nothing but positive experiences staring back at me. Intersections gave me a chance when no one else would, and Intersections stood by me through one of the darkest times of my life. Couple that with the opportunities and accomplishments I enjoyed while working there, all I can say is “thank you.” My only regret was that Intersections could not find a place for me.

Each version of this letter was different, personalized for each executive I approached.

Within ten minutes I had my first reply. From the C.E.O.

Two days later, I had his letter of recommendation.

A recommendation on LinkedIn. Permission for phone referrals. I got a solid list of references, and these references happened because I didn’t make this personal. This was about numbers. This was about business.

1. Enjoy some downtime for yourself. Yes, I’m suggesting you keep yourself busy, get your references and your resumes in order, and plan for the hunt ahead of you; but make time for you.

When the layoff happened, I had plans with friends that night. Pip suggested I cancel. “No,” I told her. “I don’t want to hide. I want to be around friends.” All weekend, and since then, I’ve been doing just that. Friends. Neighbors.

And, of course, family.

Since the layoff, I’ve been enjoying morning walks with Sonic Boom to school. I then come home and start writing. I’ve been writing. A lot. Two short stories. A novella. (And not all of it was steampunk…but most of it was.) Quality time with The Janus Affair and its final layout.

Whether I planned for it or not, I’ve got time. Loads of it. So I’m taking advantage of it.

Take advantage of time you find yourself having. Bank some quality memories with your family. If you’re a writer, get some ideas down on paper. Or take this opportunity to broaden your skillset. Your job hunt will be there, waiting for you once you get back from what you’ve set aside for yourself. Prepare yourself for your job hunt. Don’t obsess over it.

There will be some days that are going to be easier than others. By doing some footwork immediately afterward, though, you feel like you’re taking the right steps. As I mentioned before, every layoff is different; but if you find yourself in an unexpected, unwanted career change, maybe this blogpost will give you some things to keep your sanity.

Another option in keeping your sanity: Captioned pictures of housepets. Laughter makes everything — even getting laid off — a bit more tolerable.

Something I find absolutely fascinating in my first decade as a published author is the sheer amount of backpedalling I have seen authors make when it comes to self-publishing.

Oh. Wait. Independent publishing. Now, indie publishing includes self-publishing. Yeah. Ain’t that something?

When I took my first steps with Dragon Moon Press back in 2002, I also took hits from a few established authors online and in real time, turning to their colleagues and referring to me as a literary ambulance chaser. (No kidding. I collected some killer stories in my first year as an author.) Now, those same voices snubbing me at conventions and literary events are now swearing up and down to the masses that “Legacy Publishing is dead and the independent author shall vanquish the evil Gatekeepers! Take control of your writing career! Do it yourself!”

Yeah, taking control, doing it yourself, and “sticking it to the Gatekeepers” all sounds seductively intoxicating. Charlie Sheen did just that and referred to himself as an F-18. (That’s Comment #5 in the previous link.) Before you decide to go supersonic in your own path to being a writer, ask yourself one quick question: Have you ever sat in a cockpit of an F-18?

How about a Cessna?

My kid was invited into the cockpit of a Boing 747. Take a look…

Even if you’re flying a cropduster, your flight isn’t going to end well if you don’t know what you are doing. Across a decade of writing, editing, and book layout, I’ve collected a few considerations for any author — new or seasoned — to keep in mind when it comes to managing a career.

5. Accept the fact that no matter how good you think you are, you need an editor. In their recent Huffington Post article “The Real Reasons Indie Authors Aren’t Taken Seriously”, Melissa Forester and Amy Edelman dish out some tough love to indie authors about the long road to respect, and throughout the article continuously refer to what these ambitious artisans all need — editing. I don’t care who you are — you need an editor. The need for an editor does not mean you lack talent or that you’re a suck writer. It does mean you are human, and their changes bring about other details to mind, making writers take a harder, critical look at what a writer’s creativity hath wrought. Editing is not a curse or an unnecessary delay on your work. With the right editor, editing is a hard, critical look at your work with the goal to make a diamond from a creative rough.

4. Giving It Away for Free (or Even for 99¢) Should Have a Plan behind It. Back in 2005, I was one of the strongest advocates supporting free fiction. I saw a spike in my own book sales when Dragon Moon gave me a green light to give away in audio Morevi and The Case of The Singing Sword: A Billibub Baddings Mystery. And I wasn’t alone. Other authors were following the charge alongside Cory Doctorow, myself, and Scott Sigler.

Now, six years later, I’m still a big advocate for giving it away for free…provided there is a plan behind it.

Giving it away for free works for Scott and Cory, sure. I won’t deny that. But outside of those two, has this tactic worked for anyone else? Even as Chuck Wendig points out in his “Making Sense of 99 Cents” blogpost, it’s not the best strategy to price everything the same. For my own independent publishing works, 99¢ is a sweet spot for short stories with one selected as a free download. Short story collections are priced at $2.99 (essentially, four shorts — so four for the cost of three). Free can work as part of a larger plan.

Giving stories away — be they shorts, novellas, or novels — for free? Blindly?

No, this isn’t really a good model to follow, as I discovered…

3. Some People Will Never Want to Pay for Your Work. In a recent episode of The Shared Desk, around 28:38, I made a really dumb remark: “A little bit of book piracy is okay.” I’m still trying to figure out why I made the comment. Perhaps I was thinking “People torrenting an already free story. That’s okay.” Maybe pygmies had my nuts in a vice while I was recording. Whatever the reason, I said this before receiving the Google Alert notifying me that The Case of The Singing Sword: A Billibub Baddings Mystery was being torrented. Not the podcast, mind you. A PDF of the print book.

Let me say that again: A novel I am already giving away for free in an audio format was being pirated.

With so many artists (not just writers, but musicians and artists) giving their work away for free or at 99¢, some online consumers adopt a sense of entitlement. As a professional independent author, you need to accept the fact that you will get complaints from people about your work “not being long enough” for the price, even when that price is 99¢. When it’s free, are you taking a blind eye on torrenting then? The business model you set for yourself needs to include boundaries for your work and how you deal with Internet Entitlement. And in light of complaints from the entitled, is your pricing based on your strategy, or prices that others agree on?

If it’s the latter, you might want to rethink your business model.

2. Financial Success Will Not Happen Overnight. I’ve always believed that the greatest investment a writer can make in their career is time. You invest time in researching your story, time to write it, and time to edit it. (See Item #6.) Be prepared to spend time in finding out if your investment is indeed working. While it sounds like Amanda Hocking, John Locke, and J.A. Conrath became overnight successes, they didn’t.

But with time, these writers became juggernauts.

A friend and colleague of mine was tweeting once about the blues of being a struggling writer and working minimum wage jobs to pay the bills. At the end of the same year, though, he was tweeting about buying a brand new car. Completely paid for. What happened? This author, living hand and mouth for a spell, is now a working, full-time writer, doing quite well for himself with an arsenal of short stories and novellas while his novel is gearing up for a release with a mainstream publisher. The income from his numerous titles is now his sole source of income.

That brings me to a consideration you should take to heart before venturing into the world of indie publishing.

1. Become a Hybrid Author. My darling wife is insisting I use here her “Many streams make a river…” quote when talking about a writer’s income. Yeah, it may sound a bit like a line Miss Marple would whip out just before solving the murder of her hamlet’s moneylender; but (and I’m never going to hear an end to this) she’s right. In between developing your titles as an indie author, go on and develop a title specifically for a mainstream publisher. Why? Breaking into the mainstream can open doors that still remain closed to smaller independent publishers. You may hear an argument against this like “Who needs the legacy publishers?” (And if you think “legacy publisher” sounds presumptuous…yes, it is.) but there are advantages.

One huge advantage is the advance. Just a signing bonus is a step forward as that becomes your first promotional budget, covering travel, advertising, and any writing resources you might need. Another plus in pursuing and landing a mainstream publisher is working with marketing divisions. I have been published in both mainstream (Wiley, Que, HarperCollins) and independent (Dragon Moon, and my own Imagine That! Studios) channels, and I can say that much of the footwork I had to do as an indie author — getting reviews, submitting for seminars and speaking engagements, dealing with piracy, advertising, requesting interviews — was taken care of by the mainstream publisher.

Why limit yourself? Broaden your horizons and consider a career covering both mainstream and independent publishing.

Keep one more thing in mind: What I’ve got here is not some magic formula of success.  This is a decade of writing experience, of watching authors perform 180’s on opinions concerning independent publishing, and of lessons I’ve learned from both sides of this argument. I’ve never believed in a sure-fire formula to success. If you think I got it, trust me — I don’t have it.

I do have some plans in play, some experiences under my belt, and some conclusions drawn. Forge forward, and find out what works best for you.

And really, there is a bigger picture happening here. As NPR said in their own look at the Digital Vs. Traditional Book Publishing argument:

“We should worry less about how people get their books and — say it with me now! — just be glad that people are reading.”

Personally, I don’t care how my stories reach people. I just want them to reach readers, and have readers react. That is really what matters in the end.

You might have noticed a few enigmatic tweets from me on Friday. I got a few responses of concern but I was okay. Still am.

No, really, I’m good. January 6, 2012 was a date for the books so I’ll just go ahead and kick off this blogpost with what happened.

Somewhere around 10:15 a.m. last Friday, I was told my services at Intersections, Inc. was no longer needed.

If you’re expecting a complete and utter meltdown against my former day job, you’re not going to get it. Never will. I will only say this:

• I wasn’t the only one let go.
• It wasn’t anything I did.
• You learn a lot about people when things like this happen.

Intersections was a terrific place to work. There are some incredible people there; and many of them reached out to me over the weekend, just to ask, “How are you doing?” It was a sincere question, and I answered it honestly: I’m good. What happened on Friday had nothing to do with me or my performance, and I was able to leave Intersections with my head held high. I was able to look the EVP in the eye, shake his hand, and say “It’s been a good two-and-a-half years. Thank you.” I loved my job. I loved what I did. As friends told me, “I was saving the world, one tweet at a time, one blogpost at a time.” The friendships and associations I made at Intersections, I discovered in that moment, were more than just professional. They ran a little deeper.

Granted, one relationship did show its true colors, and I got to admit—it didn’t just hurt. I was outraged.

But how do I feel now, on my first day of unemployment?

When I came home, Pip already had already found seven job openings in Social Media. I have a possibility from Que Publishing that I can pursue. Then there are the fiction possibilities — a steampunk novella, a reboot of Morevi, setting up the groundwork for Volume 2 of Tales from the Archives, and the third installment of The Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences. Before the end of the weekend, I had applied for fifteen positions in Social Media. A far cry from 2009 when I was lucky to get fifteen applications out in a week. And just now, I got an email from the CEO confirming that a letter of reference was en route.

How do I feel? Wildly optimistic.

I knew, heading into the new year, that something was something. Something big. I’m going to take a wild guess and say, “This…isn’t it.”

This is the first step in a new journey.

Sure, I’m scared; but that fear isn’t paralyzing me. It’s inspiring me. It’s driving me. In the wake of this, I’m moving forward, undaunted. I’ve got a great kid, and fantastic wife, and amazing friends from Intersections and elsewhere, all rallying around me. I’m truly blessed.

Thank you, Intersections. Thank you for one amazing run.

Onward.

Recently, J.C. Hutchins asked across various social networks for people to sum up their 2011 in one word, and then sum up their hopes for 2012 in another. I responded with three.

Yes, I’m a rebel. Screw the rules, ‘cause that’s how I roll.

Man, I really need to make “avoid talking street” a New Year’s Resolution. Now where was I? Oh yeah, Hutch’s “Sum Up Your 2011” question…

I responded with “The Small Step” because I’ve started looking ahead already to 2012. Planning for appearances. Pre-production for a book trailer. Considering a posting schedule for Volume Two of Tales from the Archives.  And, of course, the release of The Janus Affair. It just feels like everything is piling on already, and I’ve still not put away Christmas decorations.

Not sure what it was about this week — maybe the storm front breaking, maybe the sunrise, maybe the unusually smooth commute to work, who knows? — I started to look back. 2011 has been one astounding year. A year of change. A year of direction. Some of these items may some across as a touch trivial, but they defined the year for me, and are helping me work through tough spots and dark times. I stopped to think of those high points and put them out there on this blog, my intent being that you might find five things to be thankful for at this time.

5.  Getting My Game Back. This is P.C. Haring’s fault; and while I might have sounded disgruntled about it on The Shared Desk, it’s been something that I’ve missed. Terribly. The story goes that P.C. was paying a visit and, on hearing we had picked up an XBox for Sonic Boom, he took it upon himself to bring a few games for the grown-up’s. Both Paul and Pip have seen me shout and swear and blame the controller (which, when it’s a Kinect game, is kind of embarrassing); but I find myself constantly drawn back to the challenges of Aperture Laboratories or the overrun Arkham Asylum. (Batman: Arkham City is in the wings. I just need to complete Asylum’s basic story, and then I’m in.) I had forgotten how much I loved to game when I was a kid (ColecoVision reprah-ZENT!), and now I find it a nice stress relief. (Stop laughing at me, Pip!) When I feel stuck creatively or survive a less-than-satisfying day at the office, I find inverted takedowns when hanging from a gargoyle most satisfying.

And there is, of course, the workout aspect of the Kinect. I pwn The Humpty Dance!

4.  Investing in the Home. Last year, between one incredible day where friends and family helped me get the place in order, to Pip helping me sort and organize the details, I have found my house to be an ongoing challenge. That was when I regarded it as a house. My original plan was to hold on to it for a few years and then move. This was before I discovered what was in plain sight: an incredible community of people who I now refer to as friends. When Pip arrived for a more permanent stay, I saw myself caring less about the house and more about my home.

Our home.

Additions arrived. Changes were made. It’s no longer a place where my stuff is. We’ve got a home now. It feels great.

3. Sonic Boom: The Next Chapter. Being a parent is not easy. It wasn’t easy when she was born. It wasn’t easy when it was just the two of us. Presently, it’s no different from Arkham Asylum — each subsequent level is harder than the previous one. (Admittedly, there are far fewer sociopaths and super villains involved when parenting Sonic Boom, although there are some days the Boom could give Harley Quinn a run for the money in the diva department.) In this year, with Pip at her side, I’ve seen her take strides developmentally that have me in awe. I’ve watched her go from dropping to the ground and throwing fits to “calmly” working out problems, working through them, and not giving up. In Taekwondo, I’ve watched her rise to challenges that I thought was far out of her reach and conquer them. She’s not perfect (neither are her parents); but considering everything that’s been thrown at her, she’s continuing to take strides forward. I’m really, really proud of her.

2. The Launch of Phoenix Rising. Yeah, the game changer. At the end of the April, this steampunk novel joined many other urban fantasy, science fiction, and epic fantasy novels on bookshelves. Did it take the world by storm? Well, no. While Pip had the well-received Geist under her belt already and we both had nearly ten years of fiction, podcasting, and non-fiction under our belts, we were still regarded as “newcomers.” But much like Geist, Phoenix Rising has been enjoying what can be best described as a slow burn. The title was honored as one of Goodread’s Top Ten Science Fiction Titles of 2011 and the winner of the 2011 Airship Awards for Best Steampunk Literature. Pip and I were invited to be speakers at ComicCon New York. And we have been introduced to a generous, creative community of people who have made time for our book and have been enjoying our initial offering. It’s been a wild and wacky eight months; and with The Janus Affair slated for a May release, we have more amazing adventures ahead of us.

1. Getting Married. Yeah, this may sound very newlywed or “If you don’t make this #1 for 2011, Pip is so gonna pwn you!” but it’s the truth. The ceremony really did bring together a lot of things that made 2011 such a fantastic year. Pip looked amazing. The neighbors turned out and decorated the new patio with lights, banners, and flowers. And then there were the neighbors themselves — once total strangers to me, now some of the best people in my life. These same neighbors became fast friends with Pip and a support crew for Sonic Boom. All those emotions, hopes, and anticipations reached critical mass on that Saturday morning when a “simple paperwork ceremony” became an incredibly special day for the three of us. We — Pip, Sonic Boom, and I — became a family. We were blessed by God with fantastic weather for October, and also blessed with a Justice of the Peace who had a sense of humor. At the end of the vows, she read to those assembled “I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may now go and update your Facebook status.”

Priceless.

Nothing’s really changed between us, and yet everything feels different. I don’t make claims of being perfect in our relationship, and I work to make sure Pip is okay, that our communication is rock solid, and that we’re making time for each other as well as the family. Maybe it’s easier with only the three of us, but then again there’s nothing really “easy” about a marriage. It is work, but I play as hard as I work, and I can only hope Pip and the Boom are having as much fun in this family as I am.

So there it is — another year gone, but what a year it has been. Now 2012 is just a few days away, and there is that feeling of expectation. Right now, I feel like I’m on the edge of something big, something wonderful; and I am ready for the new year to begin and set off on this new adventure. But before doing so, it never hurts to look back, consider the lessons learned, and be thankful for friends old and new who have enjoyed the ride with me.

Thanks, everyone. See you all on the other side.

Chevron 9. Locked.

So this week, you might have heard from SyFy’s Blastr that steampunk is dead, and let’s face it — when it comes to really knowing what fans of Science Fiction think, you can’t really argue with the same people who cancelled Farscape, Eureka, and Stargate Universe to make room for reality TV and professional wrestling…

…but I digress…

From high profile blogs like Gawker to passionate fan sites like Stellar Four, the death bell tolled for my beloved genre of gears, cogs, and steam. It was all over. Time to dismantle the analytical engine, box up the boater hats, and put your goggles away. Steampunk, a genre created back in the Eighties due to a group of authors that challenged this boundaries of imagination, had officially been ruined, all due to a single music video from a beloved pop star.

My own response to this?

Seriously? Seriously?! Steampunk is dead because of a Justin Bieber video?

I think the guy who’s face truly is next to the definition of steampunk, Jared Axelrod, said it best:

“If having a teen heartrob play your sandbox ‘ruins’ it, then it probably wasn’t your sandbox to begin with.

If you haven’t seen the video, I insist you watch it. I will say this much — it’s a step up from Rebecca Black’s “Friday.”

Pip and I have stepped into the genre just this year, and we came in with our boilers at full with a podcast anthology and a book. We’ve been learning a lot since we dropped that first short story in Tales from the Archives, but one thing I’ve been noticing is a great divide whenever steampunk steps closer to mainstream culture. Whenever steampunk is introduced in mainstream venues, elitists ranging from steampunks who “know how it is properly done” to SMOFs (Secret Masters/Mistresses of Fandom) who have hated the sub-genre now that it is making its presence known at SF conventions everywhere cry “FOUL!” and proclaim that steampunk is dead.

Well, to you nay-saying asshats I say your arguments are completely invalid. Why? Because you — and if you’re looking around the table of geeks and wondering if you’re wondering who the asshat is, congratulations, you’re the wiener — are pointing out why we get persecuted and dismissed by mainstream culture.

Do we want steampunk to go mainstream? Of course we do. Think for a moment about the works in our genre that did so. Harry Potter. The Hunger Games. The variety of comics from Marvel and D.C. Sure, people sneer and call us “geeks” but the same people who persecute us are also tripping over themselves to get to the box office when the films adaptations are released. Steampunk, when you really think about it, is already mainstream as many of us have seen Disney’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea or even Chitty, Chitty, Bang, Bang.

Then something like Bieber’s steampunk video hits (and no, I’m not going to call it Bieberpunk, as I have strong issues with doing that…), and suddenly the asshats scream “The skyship is falling!” and pretty much make rest of us look like utter rubes.

But what really torques me is how websites, fans, and those SMOFs who have wanted to see steampunk fail are so quick to proclaim steampunk is dead.

Ben Love said it best on Pip’s Facebook:

“Steampunk survived The Wild, Wild West. It’s going to survive Bieber’s Christmas video.”

Why are we panicking here, and why oh why are we vilifying Bieber? Chances are, one of his “peeps” got wind of this “steampunk thing” and convinced Bieber that this was going to be the look for his Christmas movie-music video tie-in. Or maybe Bieber is a fan of steampunk. Maybe he said “Steam-what?” when the video was pitched to him. We will never know, but the video is what it is — it’s a pop star trying to be trendy. There’s nothing we can really do about it except admire the fact that Bieber was trying something different because he was told “this is the cool thing.”

Yeah, mull that over in your brain for a moment, because there is a good possibility that was how all this went down: Bieber was told steampunk is the “new, cool thing” so let’s make a steampunk video.

As for steampunk being dead, I’m going to lay down a safe bet these asshats haven’t seen Hugo.

This morning, someone on Facebook questioned my classification of Hugo as steampunk, but this film features an automaton, a child genius with a penchant for D.I.Y. projects, a hidden world within a Paris train station, and a filmmaker who — with no prior knowledge or experience with filmmaking — built his own camera and became a pioneer in cinema.

Ladies and gents, that’s steampunk.

Oh, and did I mention this film sports some brilliant performances from Sir Ben Kingsley, Jude Law, Helen McCrory, Chloë Grace Moretz, and Sacha Baron Cohen? And this film marks a break-out performance from Asa Butterfield…a performance that helped him hand the role of Ender in the upcoming Ender’s Game film?

So, asshats, I see your Bieber video and raise you with a mother fucking Scorsese film! Call!

To repeat what Jared had said earlier — Maybe steampunk wasn’t your thing after all, if you think it so fragile a thing that a holiday music video is going to tear it down. Steampunk is not only alive and well, I believe that Hugo has given it a delightful shot in the arm. As the asshats read this and salivate at citing its less-than-impressive numbers at the box office, allow me to read off a few acclaims it has already received within its first month in release:

• National Board of Review: Best Director
• National Board of Review: Best Film
• Rotten Tomatoes: 94%
• IMDB: 8.5 out of 10 stars

If you haven’t seen this steampunked homage to the history of cinema, just go. Stop reading this, book tickets, and go. (I’ll be here when you get back.) Pip and I saw it on a standard screen and are still raving about it the next day; so if you find it in 3D, you are in for an experience. After you watch Hugo, come back here and tell me steampunk is dead. Go on. I dare you.

Suck it, asshats. Steampunk is just getting warmed up.

It’s November 18. The 18th, as in we’re still in the teens…and you’re lighting the Christmas tree and having Santa visit with the kids.

Seriously? Seriously?!

You’ve heard me talk about him on The Shared Desk, tweet about him, and pledge my undying love to him on Google+; but now I’ve got to give this man a shout-out on my blog.

He got me writing flash fiction today.

I found author Chuck Wendig through Mur Lafferty, and have found a kindred spirit in this man. Why? Because he rants. He rants with a balletic grace. He tears through topics with the precision of a SEAL Team performing dark ops. He drops profanities easier than Eddie Murphy in his heyday. And something Chuck does on a regular basis that I’d never caught before was his Penmonkey Challenge (Chuck calls us writer-types “penmonkeys.” I admit, the term is growing on me.) of flash fiction. Today’s challenge was to pick one of the following words:

• Frog
• Powder
• Seagull
• Tower
• Scissors

…and  write up some flash fiction (something I didn’t think I could do) using only one of the offered words and tell a story in 100 words. Penmonkeys were invited to post their works into the Comments for the post.

I answered the call. Here’s the result…

“Scene”

The reflection in the mirror doesn’t lie; but when Jack applied the powder to his cheek, that rule shattered like a glass table under the heavy application of a brick. No seams, no odd blotches, nor any sign of who had taken his seat a few hours ago. He looked weathered. He looked tired.

He looked like his grandmother.

Jack worked his mouth to test how well this design held. He took another breath, catching the faint scent of lotion and latex.

His reflection always lied.

And people paid him good money to be the best of liars.

He’s giving folks until Black Friday to get in their flash fiction. I say “Why don’t you?!” I’ve been soldiering through today in a fog, but after this I am ready to break speed limits, get home to suck down a liquid dinner, and edit the shit out of The Janus Affair. I don’t know what it was about those 100 words but I am born again HARD and I either need to write or edit something or kill a small animal with a pair of twigs, whichever comes first.

If you aren’t doing so, do check out his blog, TerribleMinds. Chuck knows his shit when it comes to writing. Let me share with you just a sampling of his blogposts…

• Toxic Tempers and Fevered Egos in Publishing
• Turning Writers Into Motherfucking Rockstars
• Making Sense of 99 Cents

You can easily get lost in the amount of awesome found on his website. Buy his books. Download his free stuff. And jump in on his Writerpalooza of flash fiction. It could be the kick in the pants you are looking for.

Chuck Wendig, you magnificent bastard, thank you for breaking this Friday Phunk of mine!

While putting together The Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences blog and hopping around from steampunk site to steampunk site, I noticed a similar page at current online resources that Pip and I needed for our own. I also thought this would be a nice kick-off for the blog tour that we will be undertaking between now and May to promote Phoenix Rising, a post that begins with the basics: What is Steampunk?

Depending on which website you visit, be it the Wikipedia entry (featuring our good friend and creative talent, Jared Axelrod in this photo by Kyle Cassidy, licensed under Creative Commons 3.0) or Steampunk.com, you will get a variety of answers and interpretations to this creative movement that has been growing in popularity, but also capturing mainstream curiosity.

So I put together for the Ministry a page that gave several descriptions of what we thought constitutes steampunk. So, when you hear me talk about it and you still remain curious as to what it is, I present an “elevator pitch” to start off with, eventually work up to the “deep dive” that not only touches on the foundations of the genre, but even touches on the debate making rounds online and at the cons.

The Elevator Pitch

Steampunk is modern technology—iPads, computers, robotics, air travel—powered by steam and set in the 1800’s.

This is as brief and as compact a description you can give people when wondering what steampunk is. Perhaps the most mainstream point of reference would be the episode “Punked” from ABC’s popular crime drama, Castle (seen above, with Nathan Fillion featuring an armoured forearm creation from Brute Force Studios).

A Few More Details, if you please…

Steampunk is an inspired movement of creativity and imagination. With a backdrop of either Victorian England or America’s Wild West at hand, modern technologies are re-imagined and realized as elaborate works of art, fashion, and mechanics. If Jules Verne or H.G. Wells were writing their science fiction today, it would be considered “steampunk.”

So if you want to know more after “the elevator pitch” this brief summary names two of steampunk’s most revered heroes, Jules Verne and H.G. Wells (pictured above). While Verne and Wells are regarded as part of the foundation of Science Fiction, they would be listed as steampunk authors if they were writing their works today.

The Deep Dive…20,000 Leagues or so…

If you are reading this, you want more. So, here we go…

The term “Steampunk” originated in the late 1980s with a cheeky letter to Locus Magazine from science fiction author K. W. Jeter. Jeter was trying to find an accurate description of works by himself (Morlock Night), Tim Powers (The Anubis Gates), and James Blaylock (Homunculus). While Jeter coined the word, it was William Gibson and Bruce Sterling that brought the genre attention with the book The Difference Engine (1992). Best known for their offerings in cyberpunk, Gibson and Sterling took their intimate integration of man and machine back to 1885. In this alternative Industrial Revolution, Charles Babbage’s Difference Engine is not merely a curiosity but the norm, and now his Analytical Engine comes to fruition. The book centers around the struggle between the working class Luddites (who fear technology) and the upper-class “enhanced” elite.

Over the years, steampunk has evolved into more than just a sub-genre of Science Fiction and Fantasy. Steampunk now extends into fashion, engineering, music, and for some, a lifestyle. With the Victorian British Empire or American Wild West as the backdrop, steampunk projects are a challenge of making something elegant out of random bits and bobs. Picture MacGyver or The A-Team in the 1800’s. Consider Dick Van Dyke’s Caractacus Potts and his creations in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, or the ingenious contraptions from Artimus Gordon’s laboratory in the television show The Wild, Wild West. What others see as junk or scrap parts, steampunk artists transform it into something new and expressive, be it an original creation or a modification of a modern convenience.

Where exactly does the “punk” come into play?

A current debate amongst writers is that the growing commercialism over the genre has diluted the “punk” aspect of steampunk. Their argument is that steampunk has been reduced to a backdrop of romantic Victoriana, goggles, and brass fixtures. Instead of works like The Difference Engine, The Diamond Age, and The Windup Girl where social commentary and dystopia are the focus, the grittiness and edge of steampunk is merely a shiny, spiffy backdrop as seen in lighter works such as Soulless and Girl Genius.

Steampunk, at least the way Pip and I see it, gets its “punk” not in its dystopian view of the world or even in its gritty edge. The “punk” in “Steampunk” comes from going against convention that, through creativity and declaration of one’s individuality be it through style, gadgets, or attitude, sets one apart. In our own work, the “punk” is embodied in Eliza D. Braun, an agent from New Zealand. Coming from the farthest reaches of the Empire where women have the right to vote, where the natives co-exist with the colonials, and where everyone speaks their mind frankly and honestly, she goes against the standard norms at the home office in London, England. She is paired up with Wellington Thornhill Books, Esquire, a man of the manor born now serving at the Queen’s pleasure. She is everything he is not, and vice versa; and it is their chemistry and unorthodox approach to peculiar occurrences that make them unique within a society based on conformity.

All this, and they’re having a smashing good time while doing it. Well, at least, Eliza is.

Perhaps the best published primer for understanding steampunk, we found, is the unassuming title Steampunk Style Jewelry by Jean Campbell. Along with Amazon.com, you can find this book at your local Michael’s or arts-and-crafts store. As expected, there are plenty of how-to projects, but you will also find columns by musicians, artists, and seamstresses on what steampunk is. The photography in this book is also quite stunning.

And, of course, if you want to experience just how much fun steampunk can be, take a look at Phoenix Rising: A Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences Novel, from Harper Voyager.

[WARNING: While this review does not contain spoilers, the Comments do. You have been warned. Now...read on...]

Director and Writer Zack Snyder can really make a beautiful movie. Snyder set his own style with films like 300 and Watchmen, but has also come under fire for making movies that lack depth or are very “comic book” in their almost balletic approach to graphic violence. When you consider his last two films were pulling from (wait for it!) graphic novels, it makes you want to bitch slap critics. Perhaps this is why critics (and perhaps, some moviegoers) have been overly critical of Snyder’s latest film, Sucker Punch.

On reading some of these reviews, though, I have to ask “Did you see the same film as I did?” I not only loved Sucker Punch, I am here to tell you that missing this on the big screen would be a crime. It is original. It is surprising. It is intelligent.

What is isn’t is what the critics are making it out to be: Geekboy Titillation.

Now there’s no denying it: Snyder covers all of the bases in this flick. Sucker Punch offers up zombies, steampunk, dragons,  WWII bombers, and katana swordfights. And yes, all of the gunfire and swordplay is happening with women who all just happen to be hot.

Quite hot.

Smoking hot, as a matter of fact.

But the titillation critics rant on and on about just isn’t there. I didn’t find anything really “stimulating” about Sucker Punch unless you count the alternate realities where our femme fatales are kicking surrealistic asses in a variety of ways. Snyder’s signature “artistic action” sequences could hardly be described as “erotic” in their video game brutality. (And the more I think about that, the more I come to understand why Snyder’s fantasy sequences are so epic. You have to see the movie to catch it.) An episode of Sailor Moon or Bubblegum Crisis has more titillation than Sucker Punch. What should be titillating — Baby Doll’s hypnotic dance that segues into her own imagination — we never see. All we see is the reaction to it, and that is really intriguing.

Before any of my female readers comment with “If this isn’t geekboy pr0n, why then are Sucker Punch’s insanely attractive women so scantily clad in the action sequences? I mean, where’s the realism? What’s with the high heels in the giant samurai sequence?” I would like to present a few visual aids to end this debate.

History tell us that this is Sparta:Frank Miller and Zack Snyder, on the other hand, tells us that  THIS — IS — SPARTA:

This just in from Zack Snyder: “You’re welcome, ladies.”

Critics have also been making references that the principle players as “happy hookers” and “sensitive strippers.” Both of these assessments are completely and utterly wrong, and ruin the subtext running through this film. While these girls are carrying stripper names like “Rocket,” “Sweet Pea,” and “Baby Doll” (the lead), and while they are exotic dancers performing extravagant burlesque productions, they are not hookers nor are they strippers. And they’re not “happy” by a longshot. They’re sex slaves.

Let me say that again: These girls are sex slaves.

When you accept that uncomfortable fact, the whole mood of Sucker Punch changes; but from the opening — a very bleak, powerful opening telling the backstory of Baby Doll’s arrival to the insane asylum — this movie makes it clear that this is not a fun ride we are undertaking. This is the kind of darkness that makes Synder’s Watchmen look like an episode of Super Friends (the first season with Marv and Wendy…who were those kids anyway?!), and adds a sense of desperation for the girls daring to escape. Calling them “hookers/strippers with hearts of gold” really could not be farther from these characters’ dismal collected truth.

And when you consider the reality that Baby Doll is truly escaping, this tale takes an even darker spin.

That’s where I nurture a growing respect for Sucker Punch: it’s amazing layer-like quality and intelligence. Sucker Punch keeps you guessing as to where the lines of reality reside. Perhaps this is another reason why critics are coming out hard against this movie: Snyder made a geeky action movie that you have to pay attention to when watching it. This is a tale of redemption, and the lines of what is real and what isn’t are blurred just enough that when you walk out of the film, you are trying to piece together what was real and what wasn’t. Giving away any details right now would be spoilerific so I will simply say the ending completely caught me off-guard. How things play in the finale, which you discover isn’t the finale you were expecting, are a complete and utter surprise.

Perhaps this is why critics are so “angry” about Sucker Punch: They didn’t see this coming. But isn’t that the title right there? I was waiting for this movie to jump the rails. Pip was, too. It’s the morning after and I’m still waiting! Sucker Punch was not even close to what I was expecting, and I loved experiencing it on the IMAX big screen.

And concerning Sucker Punch’s soundtrack, I rank it right up there with the music from Scott Pilgrim Versus The World. Sweet crapbuckets, did this soundtrack ever rock! Props to Snyder, Tyler Bates, and producers for coming up with some fantastic covers and a Queen mash-up that gave me goosebumps!

In the age of reboots, remakes, and comic book movies, Sucker Punch is a breath of fresh air and originality, along the same lines as Inception and Black Swan. Dismiss the critics on this one, and go see it. If you can catch it on IMAX, do so as the bigger screen just makes Snyder’s composition — even the ones based in reality — breathtaking. You may be pleasantly surprised. You might walk out wondering what the hell you’ve seen, but you will be talking about it. Consider the tagline: “You will be unprepared.”

I was. Delightfully so.

Pranks. Rope-a-Dope Tweets. Misinformation. I’m not the biggest fan of April Fool’s Day. Never have been. I don’t like practical joke played upon me and playing them on others I’m not too crazy about. (One of many reasons a particular joke a few years back pulled on me jumped the shark. Seriously. They aren’t my thing.) Yes, I hate April Fool’s Day.

I hate April 1 even more as one of my best friends, Joe Murphy, passed away on this day in 2007.

For those of you new to podcasting, you might have missed the wit of my friend, Joe Murphy. He was (and still is) an amazing guy, his voice now part of the history of such podcasts, as Wingin’ It, Slice of SciFi, The Kick Ass Mystic Ninjas, and the award-winning The Case of the Singing Sword: A Billibub Baddings Mystery. He was taken from us too soon, and on April 1 I remember him.

I got to see Joe a month before he died, and it was hard. He was sick. He didn’t sugar coat his condition though, and that was Joe in a nutshell — he never pulled his punches. He never held back an opinion. He also never came across as cynical or bitter. At least, not to me. Joe had a smile that can turn around a bad day, and he always gave you an honest opinion that you could grow from. He was an amazing guy, and I miss him terribly.

On April 1, I remember my friend, Joe, in memories like the one I have posted above. I remember his banter against Michael, Evo, and the crew of the original Wingin’ It. I remember his loyalty. I remember how he pushed me to be a better writer, and a better person. This year, I’m also remembering Joe by retiring the yearly tribute podcast I post.

Why?

Since 2007, Jack Mangan and I have asked that you remember our fallen friend, Joe Murphy, by syndicating a tribute I put together just after his death. This year, as I was reminding myself I needed to report it, I felt as if I heard my friend say to me, “Tee, come on, you’ve made your point. Can we move on please?”

Yeah, that was Joe. He believed in friendship, and he believed in paying tribute, sure; but he wouldn’t want people to dwell. I don’t think he would have wanted Jack and I to dwell. So this is how I remember Joe. The above image is a memory of friendship that I want to share with you all; and if you have such a memory to share of Joe, please do so on your own network. But if you didn’t know Joe, post a moment — a particular blink in your own personal history — that embodies friendship. This is what today should be: a celebration of friendship and a tribute to those lost.

I’m Tee Morris. I’m a blogger, podcaster, and writer. And I remember Joe.

Social Media carpetbaggers (as I call them here, and I’m liking the term the more I use it) would challenge me on many of my work beliefs and ethics, two of which that have been brought to light just this month:

• You can’t make a viral video. They just happen.
• There is such a thing as bad publicity.

I have seen this as a topic on many a conference track — “How to Make Your Videos Viral!” or some such nonsense — and I also get the “Let’s make a viral video…” request a lot from my day job. After my skin stops crawling, I pull no punches and speak the best-kept-secret truth that the carpetbaggers won’t admit: you can’t make a viral video. A video goes viral due to traffic on social networks increasing awareness (of a product, person, or cause), and through self-replicating processes that gain momentum on both the Internet and mainstream media.

Did you catch that “self-replicating” part? That’s key. No one can make self-replication happen. You can promote a video, sure, but that does not necessarily guarantee it going viral.  The constant thread (if there is one) is luck. Good or bad, it comes down to luck. You can’t predict it. You can’t produce it. You never know what will strike that nerve. Viral videos just happen.

And in the case of Rebecca Black, that is exactly what happened. What two comedians referenced off-handedly has now become 2011’s viral sensation.

If you are missing the hubbub, Rebecca Black’s “Friday” has become the new benchmark for viral video success. On March 1, it sported a modest few thousand viewings; but with two snarky quips from Mystery Science Theatre 3000’s Mike Nelson and Comedy Central’s Daniel Tosh, it broke ten million within two weeks.

How could this have happened? As it is when someone asks me “What makes a video go viral?” my answer is “I don’t know.” After writing up this blogpost, I still don’t know…

…but I do have a few opinions on what helped it along.

The production, or cookie-cutter thereof. When synthesizers with accompanying “Oooh’s” and “Yeah-yeah’s” kick in at the start, you know exactly what you’re going to get. The look and the feel of the video is much like the song itself: processed. So are  Black’s vocal abilities which has been Auto-Tuned within an inch of perfect-pitch. Provided you can make it to the end, this Ark Music Factory production comes across as a Hannah Montana video…that didn’t make Disney’s final cut and therefore tabled for a later project. (Maybe a lost video reel or some such.)

Songwriting: Twitter Style. I read a YouTube comment that called the song “Twitter: The Musical.”

I wish I could say, as a Twitter user, I was insulted; but damn, that’s funny.

Writers Clarence Jey and Patrice Wilson penned lyrics that are…

…

…

Well, they…

…

I got nothing. So here’s a sample:

“Fun, fun, think about fun / You know what it is / I got this, you got this / My friend is by my right / I got this, you got this / Now you know it.”

Maybe I’m old, but no, I don’t know it. I have no clue what “it” is. Seriously, what have I got and what have you got, and if the girl to the right of you is your friend, who’s the chick on your left? Is she another BFF or is she a right bitch?

Not all the lyrics in “Friday” are this cryptic. Some do make sense:

“Yesterday was Thursday / Today is Friday / We so excited / We gonna have a ball today / Tomorrow is Saturday / And Sunday comes afterwards.”

Umm…yeah…

It ain’t Billy Joel, is it?

The jury is still out on whether Rebecca Black herself is the next Rachel Berry as the audio’s post-production completely masks her vocal ability. I would hazard a guess the Ark Music Factory assures “quality” by running all their clients through Auto-Tune. (What’s good for the pop talent of today is good for the pop talent of tomorrow, right?) It is evident from her first interview that she wouldn’t say no to becoming the next YouTube discovery. She balked at Ark Factory’s offer to pull the video down. “I decided not to give the haters the satisfaction that they got me so bad I gave up,” Black told The Daily Beast. I admire the 13-year old’s conviction, particularly in light of the video’s feedback.

And here’s where my second point is proven.

As reported by CNN, Mashable, and other news outlets, this “overnight notoriety” is less about Rebecca Black destined to become the next Justin Bieber and more about how Rebecca Black is destined to become the next Ghyslain Raza.

Who is Ghyslain Raza? You might know him by his other moniker: The Star Wars Kid. You know, the geeky high school kid who filmed himself wielding a golf ball retriever as a two-edged lightsaber?

Yeah. That guy.

There is such a thing as bad publicity and Black is harvesting it like a finely Auto-Tuned combine. Black’s newfound fame, when you read the comments and commentary, is not about her impressive vocal range rivaling that of Susan Boyle (a YouTube sensation herself) but more about the appalling nature of this video. Even Nelson and Tosh were very strategic in what they mocked — the song, not Black herself.

Where this backlash gets uncomfortable is when, in pursuit of being clever, the feedback gets personal. Rolling Stone’s recent column, tongue-in-cheek as it was, was titled “Why Rebecca Black is a Demon-Wizard Child Piper.” I’ll admit — I chuckled at the title, but then wished it had had been called something else. Maybe “Why Rebecca Black’s Friday is a Sign of the Rise of the Machines” would have worked as well? The unabashed cruelty directed at Black is unwarranted, but that doesn’t mean the song and video are open game (which was the intent of the RS article). For their own $2000 investment, Black’s parents should be outraged that the song lyrics hadn’t been given a proper grammar check.

Concerning Black’s parents — that gets the “Dad” side of me a little fired up. Maybe this is “sideline parenting” at its finest, but I find myself constantly swapping out Black and her parents with (an older) Sonic Boom and myself, asking myself “What would I do?” As a parent, I would have never approved this video. It’s wrong on a lot of levels, but the most disturbing one — as a few critics have pointed out —is the full-grown adult riffing about a 13-year-old’s quest to party. His rap break goes like this:

“R-B, Rebecca Black / So chillin’ in the front seat / In the back seat / I’m drivin’, cruisin’ / Fast lanes, switchin’ lanes / Wit’ a car up on my side / Passin’ by is a school bus in front of me / Makes tick tock, tick tock, wanna scream / Check my time, it’s Friday, it’s a weekend / We gonna have fun, c’mon, c’mon, y’all”

Anyone else find this attempt at “suburbia street cred” a little creepy?

Before anyone plays the “What about Ludicrous and his rap break in Bieber’s ‘Baby’ song?” card, note Bieber’s lyrics. “Baby” is a pop song about first loves, so at least Ludicrous and Justin can see eye-to-eye there.

But this guy? Switching lanes and screaming at school busses? I’m now wondering if he’s the guy wearing a trenchcoat on sunny days at the playground.

Another call that screams for “parental intervention” is Black’s desire “to show people there’s more to me than they think” by recording an acoustic version of “Friday.” Again, maybe this is my background taking notice, but an acoustic version of a crap song isn’t going to make it a better song. An acoustic version of “Friday” would be the equivalent of releasing a leather bound, gold leaf hardback edition of The Eye of Argon or a limited edition Blu-Ray of Battlefield: Earth.

While I will slam the song, the video, and Ark Music Factory (I have a past experience with a “talent mill” like this. True bottom feeders of the entertainment industry.), I would never think of slamming Black as some trolls out there have chosen to do. Throwing insults at a 13-year old girl, who probably had no idea what she was getting into, is never cool. The backlash against her is cruel and unfair, and I can only hope she is able — with the right people behind her — to turn this around.

What is happening here is the other side of viral videos that no one can prepare for: overwhelmingly negative criticism. This time, the “viral success” is less about fame and more about infamy, but how much of this can you really call a success?

For me, no matter how trivial or professional the posting, I strive to produce quality content. With my own upcoming video project coming up very soon, I’d like to think the video would go viral based on its worth, its creativity, and its sense of fun. I’m keeping it simple, and I’ll be able to step back and look at the final work with pride.

But can I promise you it will go viral? No, I can’t.

What I can promise you, though, is my offing will be completely and utterly Auto-Tone free.

I never like seeing friends stressed out. Whether it is intensely stressed out or just out of their groove, it just kills me. It is amplified more when I feel the bumpy ride of Life’s rougher patches. Last week, snapping back from what can only be described as an “emotionally charged night” between me and the World, I read up on a writer and friend I admire and hold dear. Turns out he was also hitting a rough patch of road.

Phil Rossi, the multitalented man with the flowing hair of awesome, began a series of posts called “Paralysis.” He’s working through a writer’s dry spell; and in “Part I: Stranded,” he went “All In” like the rock-and-roll badass that he is:

“Another truth–I’ve never been in this place before. I don’t recognize the countryside.  The air here is different—heavy and overwhelming. Talk about a wrong turn. In the past, I’ve been able to work through any creative block. This is different.”

It was in this passage from the second posting in this series entitled “Part II: Patience” where I felt like I clicked with Phil on the raw fear now gnawing away at him:

“The journey easily becomes a desolate stretch of road, the destination coming no closer, when faced with daily emails wondering about when the next piece of fiction will drop and having no good answer or while watching idly as peers put out new material every other day (or so some day it seems).

When did any of that start to matter? At some point, it didn’t even exist.”

The troubadour of the tight jeans and cowboy boots is right. When did any of this — the comparisons, the results, the numbers — matter? When did all that come into play?

For me, it came into play when this story Pip and I wrote together, sold. First here. Then overseas.

Getting published isn’t the hard part. It’s living up to the hype.

There’s a lot riding on Phoenix Rising. At least, that’s what I’m seeing. The book hasn’t sold a single copy, and yet we’ve made back our advance. How? International sales. Australia and New Zealand. Germany. Russia. Everyone—even our super-agent—is floored by this; and we are thrilled. While this momentum is building, Pip and I are still working the marketing angles. We have been building up our modest Twitter account for Agents Books and Braun, running #SteamTuesday tweets, the odd steampunk article or three, and dropping teasers for both Phoenix Rising and the sequel in the works, Of Cogs and Corsets. We also have the Tales from the Archives podcast that launched last week, and a green light from the publisher to shoot a book trailer. Then starting in April, Pip and I hit blogs and podcasts, ramping up the following month with Ministry May-hem. (See what we did there?) That’s when we hit the road.

As the clock on the Ministry website continues to count down, a news story concerning a new publishing sensation reached my ears, and I found it a little hard to believe. I thought it was nothing more than eBook hype and propaganda. Being the librarian with the Black Belt of research fu, though, Pip pulled up the video…

Amanda Hocking’s story is pretty astounding when you look at it objectively. For pennies compared to what I have invested into my own writing career, Hocking has sold a staggering number of digital books. 900,000 and climbing. She has become a juggernaut of literature in less than a year, and reached that point in her press where she is debunking a few myths of her amazing ride. I admire that.

But on seeing the clip, I went on a rant in front of Pip. A rant you will never hear and never read. Safe to say, I didn’t react well to it. At all.

The odd thing about this rant was is I couldn’t pin down what I was feeling. I wasn’t angry at Pip. (Obviously.) I wasn’t angry at Amanda Hocking. (Jealous? Yeah, okay, maybe. Just a bit.) I was angry at something, I knew that. (Check…although furniture kicking never occurred. At least, on this instance.)

After spewing out this private rant, I dropped back into my chair and attempted to return to my work-in-progress, drained of any motivation and inspiration to write. Completely. I snapped, “What’s the point? Why the hell do I even bother?”

That was when Pip said it: “You can’t give up. You’re not allowed.”

Then it hit. And it’s still hitting me. I figured out why I was so angry…I’m scared.

I’m scared that Ministry won’t go the way people are telling me it will go. I’m scared the book will hit the shelves and people will hate it. I’m scared that I’ve got all these great ideas, but I’ll suddenly find myself unable to get beyond the pitch. I’m scared of losing that ability to write. I’m also scared with the international sales already set, Ministry is going to fall short of everyone’s expectations.

But what Amanda Hocking triggered was a fear that I’ve always thought has loomed over my writing career: I’m scared that I’m doing something wrong.

At least, that’s what my head is telling me.

I understand what Pip meant though. I’m not allowed to give up. Neither is Phil. We still have stories to tell. We have audio to engineer. For guys like us (and anyone driven by passions of a creative nature), the rules no longer apply. No matter how bad it may seem, we’re not allowed to give up. Onward. Always.

This fear isn’t a bad thing. It’s good. It keeps me focused and driven. I know that when I’m the most terrified, I’m sharp. My heart pounds like a jack rabbit before a speaking event, before a panel discussion, and when introducing myself at the beginning of a workshop. I know that I’m alive, and every rapid pound in my chest reminds me that I have earned the right to be here and it’s time for my “A” game. If I didn’t want to take a chance, if I didn’t believe in what I create, if I doubted my skill and talent, then I could find contentment in writing stories and keeping them to myself. I have chosen a path that agents, editors, and publisher have all told me few undertake. The fear is my acknowledgement of a challenge before me, and I am ready to face it.

Speaking of facing those demons, I understand Phil’s writing again.

“I was rewarded with the start of what could be a very tasty short piece of fiction and the knowledge that, yes, I can do this.   We are defined largely by our own perception. If I think I can’t write, then I’m not going to be able to do it.  If I consider myself capabable of telling a good tale, then that’s just what’ll happen.  Belief is a powerful thing.

And in this case, I’d say it’s magic.”

I found out this weekend it was his idea for Tales from the Archives that has got his butt back in the chair. Inspiration. Kind of like how his earlier blogposts inspired this posting.

In a perfect world, I believe that how we should be to each other: inspiring. That really is, as Queen once put it, a kind of magic.

UPDATE: When this post went live, Lou Anders of Pyr Books pointed people in his Facebook feed to Amanda’s blog. In her March 3 blogpost “Some Things that Need to Be Said,” Amanda goes even deeper into her success and some of the misconceptions and bold assumptions people are making. She also offers her own observations of being a self-published author versus a traditional press published author, and she pulls no punches:

“Self-publishing and traditional publishing really aren’t that different. One is easier to get into but harder to maintain. But neither come with guarantees. Some books will sell, some won’t.”

Before you get on the “Who Needs Traditional Publishing?” bandwagon, you will want to read this heartfelt and brutally honest posting from one of digital publishing’s success stories.

And to you, Amanda, I say “Kia Kaha! Now get your butt back in that chair and write!”

This weekend, Pip and I took off for a Valentine’s Day weekend. Instead of getting our lovey-dovey on today, we dropped off the Boom with grandparents, and enjoyed a quiet pre-Valentine’s Day weekend in Staunton, Virginia. If you are not familiar with Staunton, this is truly one of the crown jewels of Virginia’s crown. It is a fantastic town nestled within the Shenandoah Valley, just about 20-30 minutes away from my alma mater, James Madison University. Why I chose Staunton as our getaway weekend, though, wasn’t for its historic architecture, quiet setting, or quaint downtown shops. It was for The American Shakespeare Center.

You probably don’t think “Staunton, Virginia” when you think of William Shakespeare, but you should. The American Shakespeare Center (ASC) is located in downtown Staunton, and they manage the Blackfriars, the world’s only reproduction of Shakespeare’s indoor theatre. This weekend, the ASC was putting on The Comedy of Errors, a show that holds a very special place for me. As Pip had never seen a production of Comedy nor a show at the Blackfriars, I thought this would be a great opportunity. Better still, the Frederick House offered a Shakespeare Package that included tickets and a backstage tour. As you can see by the photos (click on them to view in full), the Blackfriars is gorgeous, and how you see the stage—even with the lights up—is how the ASC does Shakespeare. The show itself was tremendous, and Pip and I are still talking about it. The actors (including an old friend from JMU who is still performing with the company, I am proud to say) gave high energy with every line and every comic moment, making the less-than-two-hours traffic fly by. So yeah, when you think of Shakespeare, you should also think of Staunton, and you should make it a priority to catch a show here. It was a terrific choice Pip and I made, and we’re heading back to Staunton in May. (More on that trip to come…)

What I didn’t expect from this trip to the Blackfriars was a memory from the past, back when I was a professional actor and facing a tough call.

Not to sound too ominous, the ASC and I have a history. I knew the ASC when they were the SSE, or the Shenandoah Shakespeare Express. They started as a theatre troop independent of the JMU Theatre department, run by the Shakespeare professor, Dr. Ralph Cohen, and under the artistic direction of Jim Warren. (Side note: Jim is still the Artistic Director at the ASC. That really makes me smile.) They first got off the ground with Henry V, and then took on Richard III. While I missed Henry, I caught Richard…

I didn’t like it.

No, I mean, I really didn’t like it.

Exactly how much did I, the young, 20-something, I-got-this-acting-thing-down, college student, not like this production of Richard III? I ranted about it. With a couple of other students. In my acting class. Oh yeah, and then I reviewed it in a write-up a year later with Taming of the Shrew (a show I really, really liked). This review was shared with the cast.

As you might guess, my rant came back to haunt me. Particularly when I came to audition for the company.

When I first started auditioning for the SSE people were surprised, considering the earlier disdain I threw around over Richard III. A lot of it had to do with my semester in England. That time overseas gave me some space between the microcosmos that was JMU, and also opened my eyes a bit. I took a Shakespeare class, saw a LOT of Shakespeare, and grew up a bit. When I got back to JMU, the SSE started hitting a stride. From Twelfth Night to MacBeth to the insanely-difficult Measure for Measure, the company hit a stride and quickly built a reputation for getting high school students excited about Shakespeare.

I wanted to be a part of that.

I auditioned.

I never made callbacks.

I wasn’t surprised.

No, I didn’t blame the SSE. That’s not what a professional (or someone who wanted to be a professional) would do. A lot of things happen in the audition process (and as an actor and as an editor, I’ve been on both sides of it). When you have only a few open slots and a lot of talent showing up for said slots, I could have breathed fire while dancing a salsa and still not made callbacks.

Yet a voice in the back of my mind wondered if things would have been different had I kept my opinions to myself.

Fast-forward a few years. I am auditioning once again for the SSE. This time, by invitation. At that time, the SSE was collaborating with the Richmond Shakespeare Festival and Vpstart Crow Productions in a massive cattle call audition for Shakespeare, and I also remember my elation when the SSE invited me to their second round of auditions. While this was still the same SSE I knew back in the day, things were very different for the company; just as I was still the same ol’ TeeMonster…but also a very different actor. The morning started early, and by the afternoon I had read for a variety of roles. My heart was practically pounding out of my chest as I waited to hear results from reading, waiting, reading, and reading again. Then, finally, an associate started reading off names for people to stick around for the last round of auditions. Mine was called.

This was it. Final callbacks.

Then the other shoe fell.

The SSE handed me a contract. (No, that wasn’t a typo—a contract.) This contract spelled out everything, down to the last detail, of exactly what an SSE associate did for the company, how much they were paid, how much they were fined if they did not meet these conditions, and how long of a commitment they expected from their actors. I give a lot of credit to the SSE: this was the clearest contract I have ever read. There was no question of what was expected of me, and I was ready to rise to that challenge.

What I wasn’t ready for was what came next: I couldn’t go into callbacks unless I signed it.

To perform with the SSE would have meant quitting my job and either commuting to Harrisonburg (2+ hours, one way), or relocating. (We had just moved into a house.) Making a call like this without checking with Natalie would have carried severe consequences. I was also making a commitment to a company without know where I would “fit” into the show. (In other words, I was agreeing to the commitment, and then finding out where I was cast.) And if something unforeseen were to happen, I would still be locked into this agreement with no out, the exception being to “buy myself out” of the contract which I couldn’t afford.

While others around me were quickly signing and turning in their paperwork, I hesitated. I was being told “Sign it now…” and I couldn’t. Every instinct in me told me not to. I needed time to consider.

The SSE Associate reluctantly got Jim Warren to the door, and Jim—as I’d always known him to be—was gracious. With actors filing in and final auditions seconds before commencing, he afforded me a few minutes. I was told what I already knew: No exceptions. This was the way the SSE did things back then, and I had to make a choice.

I glanced over to the assembled actors all waiting for the last round of readings, handed Jim back the unsigned contract, and said, “I’m sorry. Maybe next time.” and I walked away.

I walked away from my last shot with the Shenandoah Shakespeare Express.

These memories came back to me this weekend, and Pip was doing her best to cheer me up. It wasn’t regret I was feeling. I don’t miss acting (well, okay, yeah, maybe a little…), but I do miss performing Shakespeare. There really is something magical to watch people—kids, especially—laugh at jokes that were written over 400 years old. When you consider performances like Tenant’s Hamlet, Stewart’s MacBeth, McKellen’s Richard III, or Branagh’s Much Ado About Nothing, you appreciate the passion and love that go in these productions; and even if you have seen the show before, it will be the first time you’ve seen it that way.

So, yeah, I miss performing William’s works.

Since this weekend’s wonderful production, and taking the theatre’s tour (which, again, I highly recommend), I have gone back to that crossroad. I know had I signed that contract, had I gone through that callback, things would have been different. Whether I had been cast or not, I would not be the person I am today. I probably wouldn’t be blogging right now. People in my life (Pip, Sonic Boom, friends from podcasting, friends from writing, etc.) would never be. Sacrificing those band of brothers, the days I have seen, and hearing the chimes at midnight just will not do. Heck, just thinking of what I am now and what I could have been could easily make one wiser, mad.

Bonus points if you just saw what I did there.

I guess I never really considered that moment a crossroad, but there it is. Lani Tupu once told me that I will never “stop” being an actor. It will always be a part of me; and when I’m ready, the stage will be waiting. I admit to getting my fixes when I take on voicework with various podcasts, including my own; but will I ever return to Shakespeare on stage? I honestly don’t know. I think Pip said it best in her tweet today:

For those who feel alone, remember things can change faster than you think.

I don’t regret the choice I made at that particular crossroad. I’m just missing time with the Bard. We were the best of friends. Still are. I think Pip sees that, too. I Forgot to mention we upgraded our seats for Comedy, and we took two “Gallant” seats which are stools on the stage. Pip ribbed me a bit with “You just want to get on the stage with them, don’t you?”

Yeah. I do. When I’m ready.

While Twitter, Whrrl, and Facebook are my go-to-tools in online sharing, their limitations can stunt my stream-of-consciousness on a subject. So I’m taking ideas that come from other discussions and networks, bringing them here, and expanding on them.

Also, I too am annoyed when people post a waxing philosophic dissertation as a Facebook status. No, I’m not going to become “that guy” on the Social Networks.

This blogpost was inspired from a Twitter exchange I enjoyed with one of the sweetest ladies of Social Media, Vivid Muse. Viv was easing into her day, and fired off this tweet across my starboard bow:

VividMuse: Also, Three Stooges are even dumber than I remember. It would be interesting to try and classify all men as Larry, Curly or Moe. Possible?

My reply:

I think there’s a little bit of 3 Stooges in all men. (Heck, @PhilippaJane saw my “Curly” on the JMU football field last month.)

This reminded me of my own personal observation of The Three Stooges and why us men-folk are so curiously drawn to them like moths to a bonfire. What is it about those three guys?

It should be noted while their humor is crude, base, and just plain absurd, the Three Stooges never went for the gross joke ala modern slapstick offerings like Opie & Anthony, the Jackass crew, or Tom Green. The latter I would describe as the “torture pr0n” of comedy. Yes, the Stooges did cause mayhem and chaos wherever they were but it never crossed the extreme end of tolerance. Even the Stooges knew their limits.

This brought me to a possibility that the Three Stooges held a deeper meaning to us men, that perhaps there was — at the core of this slap-riddled humor — a sophistication that has made them sacred.

Yes, sacred. Men can disagree on football versus rugby, Batman versus Superman, and Captain Kirk versus Captain Picard; but ask any man and they will tell you without question that the Three Stooges stopped being The Three Stooges after 1955 (following the death of Shemp Howard).

End of (that) discussion.

So what exactly is the hidden symbolism of The Three Stooges? To understand it, you have to go back to the iconic imagery of King Arthur’s fall.

Yes, I am drawing a parallel between The Three Stooges and Le Morte d’Arthur. Roll with me here…

Depending on which legend you track with, Arthur after his climactic battle with Mordred is seen on a boat with three women (again depending on which legend you track with, presumably are Igrayne, Guinevere, and Morgana) watching over his final journey to Avalon. The symbolism of the three women is usually attributed to the Maid, the Mother, and the Crone, or three stages of a woman’s life: childhood, motherhood, and sage adviser. The “power of three” is rife through classic literature and modern storytelling, from the witches of MacBeth to the Halliwell sisters in Charmed.

So it goes for guys and The Three Stooges. Break down the slapstick comedy trio and you can really see the symbolism. The Three Stooges embody three stages of Man, or at least what men strive to be and why we are constantly at odds with ourselves.

Moe Howard

Moe embodies Control. When the Stooges find themselves in a pickle, who calls the shots? Do we look to Larry for the answers or Curly for the leadership? Hell no, all eyes turn to Moe. He’s the man with the plan. Not always a good plan, but a plan’s a plan. Men, on an average, love to think they have a magic plan that will fix everything. Sometimes, a plan is paramount to brilliance. More often than we like to admit, a plan will end with a pie fight, cops showing up, and its masterminds running into the sunset at double speed. Still, Moe is the Control that men feel must be applied to every situation, be it a crisis or a social situation.

Larry Fine

Larry is the Follower. Yes, men like to take charge. Yes, men like to have the final say. Men also like to hear those above us say “Good work.” or “Well done.” We feel a sense of accomplishment when, as part of a team, victory is earned or problems become solved. As Followers, men still find themselves serving as the Control, but shouldering less of the responsibility. Larry is the first person Moe turns to in order to get things done. And why not? He practices a strong work ethic (Do what Moe tell me to…) coupled with an even stronger motivation (…and he won’t slap me!), making Larry trustworthy and reliable, traits men strive for.

Curly Howard

Then there is Curly. Men want to be him. Women want to tame him. Why? For his physique? (Body by donuts.) For his command of the English language? (Nyuck-nyuck-nyuck.) No, it’s the man’s approach to life: Curly represents Wild Abandon. If we are led to believe the “Girls Gone Wild” video extravaganzas, the role of Wild Abandon is reserved for women only; but wasn’t it John Belushi that called forth the spontaneous “Gator” dance move in Animal House? And wasn’t it Steve Martin that called himself a “wild and crazy guy” to the delight of millions worldwide? And was it not “Weird Al” Yankiovic that fearlessly repurposed pop hits under titles like “Eat It” and “White and Nerdy” to conquer the music charts? These and other “Devil May Care” transgressions can be traced back to Curly. In my recent return to James Madison University, I paid homage to Man’s personification of Wild Abandon by dropping to the ground and spinning on my shoulder. (See my earlier-quoted tweet.) In that moment I won the hearts of the JMU student body, the admiration of my fellow alumni, and the embarrassment of Philippa Ballantine. Curly was always my favorite when growing up, but it was later in life I understood why. Why women always went to Curly first. Why Curly, unleashed, became a juggernaut of Wagnerian proportions. Why Curly, of all the Stooges, is the most cited, most quoted, and most revered of the Stooges. Curly resides where we dare not go. He is that recklessness we feel in our youth and struggle to hold on to in our later years.

Shemp Howard

I would be remiss if I did not include Shemp, the original third man. Shemp managed, while not evident at first, to embody the stage of Man that balances out his predecessor.  Shemp stands for the Consequences of Our Actions. While Curly stands for Wild Abandon, it is Shemp that shows us what happens the day after that leap into the unknown. If there was something needing to be tasted, tested, or tried before the other Stooges proceeded with their master plan, Shemp was usually (yanked) first in line to “see what happens when…” followed by the wheezing, the stammering, and the perfectly-quaffed hair falling as a final curtain into Shemp’s face and blinding the poor man. Shemp — the perpetual lab rat that he was — would step up and serve as a powerful lesson to the responsibilities of what we do, be they voluntary or not. He would also serve as an example of bearing the fallout responsibly, be that fallout voluntary or not.

What you may see on the outside of their vintage comedy shorts and feature films is cream pie battles, early attempts at waterboarding (with fire hoses), and pratfalls testing the mettle of mortals; but underneath the slapstick runs a subtle symbolism of what Men strive for, what we need to be, and why we are what we are. The deeper meaning in the bond shared between Moe, Larry, Curly, and Shemp is ever present in their performances; and once you look past the gags, the slaps, and the eyepokes, you get a sense of why Men are so passionate about their Stooges. They are the building blocks that — together — complete the composition of the male species. This is the reason why, ladies, the same guy who buys you flowers for no reason and surprises you with a day-long trip to a spa is the same guy who refuses to put the toilet seat down and remarks “Damn, she’s hot!” whenever you’re watching True Blood or Burn Notice together. We are complex machines; and to understand how the machine works, you need not look any further than the (pre-1955) works of The Three Stooges.

This is the Power of Three, manning up.

And this is it.

You’ve heard why new computer books, while bringing in a bit of the greenbacks, is no longer my thing as a writer; and you’ve finally got an idea of what I have been dealing with in a writing partnership that went so south, the relationship is in Antarctica right now. (Considering this next section, there a touch of irony for you.) You also know that Billi and the crew are taking a “big sleep” as well. It’s time for me to move forward.

Granted, when I was told this was the next step, I had no idea this was going to be such a giant leap.

This wild ride starts in May of last year…

The Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences

2010 could be best summed up by Charles Dickins’ opening line from A Tale of Two Cities: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” While working through the worst of times, May ushered in the best of times with a two-book deal from Harper Voyager. What had started as a podcast-for-pay with Pip Ballantine became my big break, and my top priority.

The series is called The Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences, and we describe the series as a steampunk take on the BBC’s espionage romp The Avengers. Our first book, Phoenix Rising, will premiere this Spring with its follow-up, under the working title Of Cogs and Corsets, planned for a 2012 release. Since the contract was signed, we have been moving at a blistering pace between quick turnarounds on edits, cover art production, and development of the sequel. Add to all this mayhem unanticipated international sales to Australia, New Zealand, Germany, and (just this month) Russia, it’s no lie: Expectations are high, particularly with the book’s premiere scheduled at The Steampunk World’s Fair in New Jersey.

There is one reoccurring thought running through my mind during this whole period of time: Holy crap, this is really happening.

So after clocking in a full day at Intersections Inc. as their go-to resource for all things Social Media, and then making sure Sonic Boom gets fed and (of course) some quality time, it’s down to the studio to focus my energies (or what’s left of them, at that point) on what is needed for the Ministry series:

• Writing Of Cogs & Corsets with Pip
• Administrative and (soon) editorial work on Tales from the Archives
• Researching and reaching out to potential contacts for an intensive media tour, starting in March
• Zumba and Dance Central workouts (Yes, I want to look good when May arrives.)

I need to focus on Ministry works because this is where my future is. My next step. As much as fans of Billi and Morevi want a new installment, I will hazard a guess they also want me writing. It may not be where people want me writing, but it’s where I need to be.

It’s also a lot of fun. I’ve been enjoying Wellington, Eliza, and their steampunk England so much that I find myself missing their world, even when editing and proofing chapters. There’s a lot of potential here, as well. I don’t want to miss a step, so this means making Ministry the focus of my writing.

You might not think it is a difficult decision, but it is. Side-stepping questions about Billi and Morevi, hearing fans ask about future podcasts, and receiving praise for these properties are all welcome and heartwarming. I appreciate them all, and they make me want to write in those universes again.

But there it is again: writing. Of course my readers and listeners want me to write. Feedback from my short stories has told me as much. The truth of it was in the sales, when I would see how much I would make off my other properties, including the Twitter and podcasting books. Would I ever really be able to make a living as this? Computer books have a limited shelf life; and to make a living with an independent press, I would have to double (or perhaps, even triple) my output. To hit that goal of full-time writing, I need to produce the books that can get me there.

I believe those books are the ones I’m working on with Harper Voyager. Come this Spring, we will see.

The End…but Rafe and Billi will return…

Letting go of these two properties has been hard, but I still believe — no kidding, I believe with purest conviction — that I will return to these worlds. Perhaps Billi will find a home with another publisher. Wouldn’t that be fun? Rafe, while dashing in his doublet and rapier, would look rather smart in an aviator cap and goggles, a hyper-velocity aetherflux at his side. I’ve closed the door, sure, but it’s not locked. As we have all seen as a community, there are no sure things, no slam dunks, in the entertainment industry. I still recall the words of my friend from across the pond, Martyn, when he tweeted to me “What a difference a year makes.” He’s right. Within a year, I could be forging ahead. Within a year, I could be on a new path. A lot can happen in this year, and I’m not dismissing Billi or Morevi and their futures. I will return to those worlds. Someday.

For now, I’m giving dwarf detectives and upstart pirates a break; and my attention turns to gears, gadgetry, and goggles. In place of Mick’s Diner and the Defiant, I’m delving into a dark depository of mysterious talismans, trinkets, and tall tales that could contain a bit of truth. Bullets and baldricks are swapped out for boilers. In this new world, a plucky pepperpot of the colonies and a meticulous bookworm face intrigue, danger, and secret societies hell-bent on overthrowing the Empire.

Sounds like fun? I hope so. Maybe you’ll want to join me on this little trip.

Chevron 9 locked. See you on the other side…

Last week, you got the behind-the-scenes look at how a lot of work can go into books and how a publisher can change their minds without telling you. We also got a look at how I’ve been making some rookie flub-up’s and probably need to go back and listen to my own podcast on writing and what not to do. This week, Part II of “The Tough Choices” goes into the characters people know me for and the questions people have been asking me since 2005…

The Billibub Baddings Mysteries

“So, are you ever going to podcast Pitcher’s Pendant?”

Two of the best things a writer can ever hear about their work is:

• I read it again, and it gets better every time.
• Where’s the next book?

While my podcasting and Twitter books are the bigger financial successes, it is my print and podcast novels that people ask me about the most. In particular, when is the next one coming? I suppose that would make the novels from Dragon Moon Press artistic successes.

The Case of the Singing Sword, both in print and in podcast, stands out as my most acclaimed work, winning an Honorable Mention from ForeWord Magazine for Best Fiction of 2005 and Best Audio Drama (Long Form) from the 2008 Parsec Awards. As much hard work as the podcast was, I had a blast doing it. The podcast also made an impression on me as I heard many of the voices from Singing Sword while writing Pitcher’s Pendant. In my head, I had the novel cast by its completion and was seriously considering a podcast of it either late 2009 or early 2010.

Life, and my professional relationship with Dragon Moon Press, had other plans; and I was finding myself at odds with both.

So it went in the Spring of 2010 that Dragon Moon and I, after eight years of epic adventure, supernatural sleuthing, and columns on writing and being a writer, parted company. We agreed that for anthologies and Complete Guide to Writing installments, I would contribute when time allowed. It was time I moved forward in my career, something that I promised myself I would do during my live Survival Guide at Balticon in 2009.

This means that in April of this year, the Billibub Baddings Mysteries will no longer be available from Dragon Moon. The rights will revert back to me and, once that happens, I will work with my agent to find them a home. Once I do find a home for my wise-cracking dwarf, I will gladly forge ahead with him, Mick, Alphonse, Gertie, and the rest of the colorful characters residing in my alternative Gangland Chicago. I will probably not podcast Pitcher’s Pendant until I have a home and a bankable future for the series.

This doesn’t mean I’ll be pulling down the podcast. It will still be available on Podiobooks.com, and there it will stay unless someone makes an offer;but for now, Billi’s leaving the axe on the wall and Beatrice locked away in his top desk drawer.

The Morevi Saga

If people haven’t asked me about Billi, they have asked about the fate of Rafe, Askana, and those loyal to House Moldarin and the Defiant.

Where do I begin?

Much like with Billi, MOREVI: Remastered was a joy. I was exhausted when I was done, but quite pleased with the end result. It was an experiment, and some chapters worked better than others In the end I was very happy with the voice talent and the production quality.

But what of the series?

Legacy of Morevi, for those of you who have read it, know it ended on a killer cliffhanger. I was more than ready, on announcing MOREVI: Remastered, to return to the lands of Naruihm and podcast Legacy while working on the third title, Exodus from Morevi. Again, as with the Twitter books, I announced the next book in the series, a podcast anthology, and plans for the Legacy podcast. All of these grand plans hit the sea floor on realizing that the year was not going the way I had planned.

Poor planning, sadly, isn’t the reason why Rafe, Askana, and cast are facing futures unknown. The main reason is Morevi’s original co-author: Lisa Lee.

I have remained tight-lipped about Lisa for years, but here is the story few have heard. When we wrote Morevi together, it was incredible fun. Our story captured the attention of media. We appeared together on The Dragon Page in 2004, marking the only time Lisa and I were both present for an audio interview. We were having a great time. For the most part.

When she announced (after I had asked her not to…) we were working on Morevi’s sequel, we agreed this was our next step as a writing team. It was time to get cracking on a sequel. Lisa would start (as I had written the opening chapter last time), and this would begin new directions for our characters. It was all very exciting…

…until within two months, all communication abruptly stopped.

I never found out why Lisa shut me out, and still have no definitive answer; but I did find myself alone at the writers’ desk with a Prologue and an opening to Chapter One. I also had a deadline and a delivery date set.

So, during Legacy’s development, I had a lot of things to deal with…except for my writing partner.

After repeat email and even legal documents went ignored, I forged on ahead without Lisa. The original Prologue was scrapped. Chapter One’s opening was completely re-written. This new adventure now took twists and turns that were my own. Even with its open ending, Legacy of Morevi was received with praise from the fans of the first book, and was a finalist for ForeWord Magazine’s Best Fantasy of 2005. Not bad for picking up the reins unexpectedly.

Fast forward to 2010…

Six years of silence finally broke when I found Lisa online. I reached out to her, asking for written permission to Morevi’s rights, seeing as she had no interest to continue writing in this universe. After all, it had been six years, right?

Here was Lisa’s reply:

“I am not sure about relinquishing all rights to Morevi – I will have to think about it. This is not so much about any monetary value but more about how I feel about something so personal.”

She also added:

“I appreciate that you’ve put a disproportional amount of work into Morevi compared to what I have contributed. All I can say is that for me, the overwhelming feeling I had when I first leafed through the printed copy was embarrassment. I guess that’s the only way I can go towards explaining why I felt I had to drop it.

But even so, it’s my first and maybe only ever published work. So before I can say here you go take it I want to know what you mean by find another home for it.”

What I find so bizarre about this exchange is how she refuses to say “yes” or “no” about relinquishing the rights to Morevi as it is “so personal” of a work, even after she had turned a blind eye when I wrote Legacy and produced both the 2005 and Remastered podcasts.

And this exchange happened at the end of August. I followed up with her in October. As it went six years ago, Lisa has apparently closed off communication. Again.

What exactly does all this mean? On a personal perspective I have formulated my own opinions; and I’ll admit—it would be real easy for me to dish.

I don’t dish. I rant. There’s a difference.

Without a definitive answer, I am left with an “Okay, what can I do?” So, once I am caught up with my Ministry commitments, I may return to Morevi’s universe and completely—to use the new, hip term in Hollywood—reboot the series.

As I discussed on my Facebook Group, I am considering a steampunk makeover for the swashbuckling series. A new era. A queen on England’s throne. A whole new attitude on some familiar friends. I believe Rafe could make the jump without a problem. It only becomes tricky as to how the reboot would change the plot, the environment, and the dynamics of the original.

I can promise you one thing: the Morevi reboot would be, without question, Elf-free.

This means Legacy would disappear into the aether. I would attempt to salvage as much as I could from it; but in giving my first novel a completely new angle with far less Fae, a lot will change.

All this would happen, though, after I meet my commitments with the Ministry.

(NEXT WEEK: Great Expectations)