Everybody’s Makin’ It Big But Me

Okay, first of all, here’s the original.  Written by Shel Silverstein, one of my heroes.

Now, then:

 

George Martin bought a new house just to store his toys.
Dean Koontz has a cellar full of wine he enjoys.
Meyer writes for millions.
I write for two or three.
Oh, everybody’s makin’ it big but me.

Oh, everybody’s makin’ it big but me.
Everybody’s makin’ it big but me.
Rowling drinks Dom Perignon
While I drink Lipton tea.
Everybody’s makin’ it big but me.

Steve King has a mansion with an iron gate
E.L. James in London has a private estate
Jane Yolen has a castle
I can’t pay my dentist fee.
Oh, everybody’s makin’ it big but me.

Oh, Everybody’s makin’ it big but me.
Everybody’s makin’ big but me.
I know from science fiction
And even fantasy
How come everybody’s makin’ it big but me?

I tried to write best sellers like Orson Scott Card
I tried to write like Gaiman but it was much too hard.
I even gave YA a spin
But semi-colons did me in;
Everybody’s makin’ big but me.

Oh, everybody’s makin’ it big but me
Yea, everybody’s makin’ it big but me.
Scott Lynch is on the Times list
John Scalzi’s on TV.
Everybody’s makin’ it big but me.

How to Open a Wine Bottle With a Feather

After reaching my limit of emails that said, “So-and-so wants you to like a page on Facebook,” I finally got around to telling Facebook: STOP SENDING ME EMAIL. NO EMAIL EVER AGAIN. I HATE YOU. Oddly enough, this has resulted in me checking FB more than I used to, and so I saw this there:

So, odd fan question….I love the Dragaera novels, but I gotta ask: How is a feather used in serving wine? Is it an actual feather, or is there some kind of utensil named that? Is it just dipped in to check the consistency or temperature or something? I’ve tried searching for references and am coming up blank! Maybe it’s just a Dragaeran/Fenarian custom?”

I should let DDB answer this, because he’s the one who first told me about it  But never mind.  It is, in fact, something still done today, in the here and now, with very old bottles of wine (especially port) where one fears the cork has gone rotten. It came up when I was doing early worldbuilding, and decided that Cork Oak doesn’t grow on Dragaera–so what would they do? Cheap wine, of course, is filled with wax plugs. But what do you do with the good stuff? One reasonable answer is: After bottling, you melt the glass on top and seal it that way. But then, how do you open it? Here is the procedure:

Requirements: Ice water, feather, metal tongs (in fact, there are special tongs made for this, called, of course, port tongs), heat source (such as a brazier).

Heat the tongs. A lot. So they’re, like, really really hot.

Hold the tongs to the neck of the wine bottle until very hot.

Dip the feather in the ice water, and quickly circumscribe the neck of the bottle.

Remove the top of the bottle.

Here is a youtube video.

I’m kinda smug at how much of it I got right before seeing the video.

To quote the Flying Karamzov Brothers: And it’s just! that easy.

Auction

For the record, I’m doing this for two reasons: 1) I have all of these manuscripts lying around with no place to keep them, but I am sure as hell not going to throw them away, and, 2) I’m trying to pay off the dentist who fixed my teeth. For the record, the financial thing is temporary, and not by any means a crisis. Whatever I get from this is going to be useful, but I am not by any means in desperate straits.

We put up a temporary auction page. It contains the latest bids, including any on the four Vlad novel manuscripts now available.

Fossil-Maker’s Blues

Lyrics by Steven Brust, Music by Nate Bucklin

Demons and imps are all around
Screaming and chipping are the only sounds
I work so hard it gives me fits
Just to fool those stupid biologists.

Chorus:

It’s calcium and marrow and mix ’em fine
I’m on the job from nine to nine.
Oh lord, won’t somebody set me free
From the Devil’s fossil factory.

Add a little carbon and start the decay
Inject some mitochondrial DNA.
Gotta carve them bones so they look right
Then plant ’em in the strata in the dark of night.

Chorus

Work all week for nineteen cents
Building evolutionary evidence.
You got no chance to organize
When the chairman of the board is the prince of lies

Chorus

 

Another Process Post

I just tweeted the following: “Good news: Vlad just figured out what’s going on in this book. Bad news: Now I have to.”

That is, in fact, quite literally the truth. When I’m working without an outline, which I do fairly often, one of the joys is the trip into the morass of plot hoping for (and counting on) the answers to appear. They usually do, though it can be more or less painful to pull them out depending on how big they are and what part of my anatomy they’re stuck in. But what I just became aware of, and find kind of interesting, is how I get into this position of suddenly needing Answers.

The thing is, dialogue drives things for me, because I just love it. By “drive” in this case, I mean that the creation of tension, and its release, are both usually marked, if not determined, by who says what how. I know that sounds pretty abstract, but in practice it’s quite simple. Today I was merrily plugging along, with Vlad in conversation with someone who may or may not have some of the answers he needs in order to figure out What’s Going On, when I suddenly wrote the following:

“Oh,” I said. “That’s it.”

Yes, Vlad suddenly got it. I, of course, had, and still have, no idea what he just got. So, why did that happen? Because the moment was right. Because of all of my instincts told me that, in order for the story to have the right feel, that was exactly the point when he needed to have a revelation about Stuff. I wasn’t consciously aware of that until I’d written it, but as soon it showed on the screen, I knew.

I want to make several points here: The most important is, that once I figure it out, that might all change. That is, there is no guarantee that that moment will still want to be in the final version. It is also very possible that, when I do figure it out, and keep moving forward, it’ll change entirely. Working without an outline means extensive revisions; sometimes wiping out pretty much everything you’ve done. But the point is, it keeps me moving, it keeps the story moving, it keeps the emotional tension at the pitch I want it, and it keeps me fascinated and delighted with it as I work.

I do not think this is inherently a good way to work; nor is it inherently bad. But letting dialogue control the emotional feel, and letting the emotional feel, in turn, control the plot, is one way to get there. From here, I have many approaches to how to get me caught up with him. I might keep writing and see if the next line, or paragraph, or page gives it to me. I might go back and read everything I’ve done so far hoping for a clue. I might stand up, pace, scowl at the dog, and mutter until I figure it out. Or I might write another blog post on writing process in hopes the idea will get frustrated at being ignored and come popping out to find me. We’ll see. For now, back to work.