Category: Writing

I have something important to tell you

To all writers, and especially TV writers, just thought you should know that the riff where someone says, “I have something important to tell you,” and then gets interrupted before being able to tell it, is now played out.  In fact, it was played out the first time it was used.  If your goal is to make me think, I guess it works; but what I think is, “Geez, what a lousy writer.”

Maybe you can come up with some clever twist on it, where that is what happens, but it doesn’t seem to be what happens, so that the audience doesn’t realize that you’re pulling that stunt until the reveal.  If you can do that, fine.  If not, I think you ought to take that gimmick and put it into the bag next to woman-who-kicks-ass-because-her-kid-is-threatened and drop it into Lake Michigan; with all the pollution already there it’ll hardly be noticed.

Thank you.  That is all.

Tiassa Update

It’s been pointed out to me that I’ve been slacking off on giving progress reports.

Tiassa is being difficult.  Between conversations with Reesa and with Neil, I’ve been convinced to try something a bit challenging.  I think it’s going to be really cool if it works, but at the moment I’m beating my head against it about halfway through.  Judging by past experience, I imagine in a week or so things will fall into place and I’ll be moving forward.

Copy of email sent to Jonathon Frid

I just sent the following to JonathonFrid.com, and thought I may as well share it here as well:

Back in 1993, I published my 12th novel, AGYAR, my only vampire novel.  I was one of those kids who raced home from school to catch Dark Shadows at 3:30.  Until recently, when I’ve been watching DS again, I didn’t realized the degree to which Jack Agyar was influenced by Barnabas Collins.  Now that I am aware of it, it seems only fair to acknowledge it, and to say thank you.

Warm regards,

Steven Brust

A Poker Poem

I think that I shall never love
A play as much as the all-in shove.
When I just smile and hitch my belt
And take myself down to the felt,
Then lean back, say something funny,
Like, “Call this if you don’t like money.”
My opponent weighs my expression bland:
How much does he like his hand?
The mound of chips that I have risen
Puts him to a hard decision.
Unless he is very bold
Or has the nuts, he has to fold.
As the chips fall and scatter
I know position does not matter.
And shoving in those gravid stacks
From now on I can relax
(No one can do worse, you see,
Then what I have just done to me).
Luck is made by God above;
But it takes some balls to call a shove.