George R.R. Martin at Town Hall - No Spoilers

Last night I saw George R.R. Martin speak at Town Hall in downtown Seattle. About 45 minutes before the event, I met a couple of other writers I know -- one of whom was kind enough to save seats -- and we sat together near the front.

After an introduction by Duane Wilkins of the University of Washington bookstore, GRRM answered some of the most common questions he's received. Then the floor opened to audience Q&A. After, he signed books, for what I suspect, was a long, long time.

I learned:

• He bought the house across the street from his house to use solely as an office.
• He owns many baby name books to help name his characters. Each of the Houses (Stark, Lannister, and so on) in A Song of Ice and Fire group similar style names together.
• He avoids fan forums, so as not to second guess his ideas or feel the need to outsmart his readers' guesses.
• Regarding the HBO series, "Game of Thrones," he has written one script per season, and has been involved or consulted on some decisions. He is pleased with the series and the actor choices, and glad for the exposure to new readers. Also, HBO just started filming season two.

His answers were clever and his dry humor elicited frequent laughs from the sold-out house. I especially liked his response to the question about the significance of gay characters in his series, like, do they have a special meaning? (I'm paraphrasing, don't quote me) GRRM said something to this effect: Well, I looked around and saw a lot of gay people in the world, so I thought maybe I should put some in my world as well.

Overall, it was an enjoyable evening and worth a hot, humid two hours sticking to the seats of Town Hall.

July Writing Recap

My July writing recap: I received 1 rejection, 1 acceptance (I'll talk more about this soon), and sent out 3 new submissions. I also have one older story pending. That is not nearly enough stories to have out at one time. Ten seems like a more reasonable number of active submissions.

Must write more and faster.

Speaking of which, I did write this last story faster than previous ones. I hope that's a new trend and not a fluke. It took about a week and a half to write and rewrite, although I didn't get a chance to put it through a full feedback cycle.

I settled for a thumbs up from Jer.

The men who are sealing my air ducts are on break for lunch so it is quiet for once today. Chiana is asleep in a cardboard box like a ragamuffin, and I am about to forage for toast.

Somehow it's summer. Three cheers for the sun.

I blame the donuts

I met my friend downtown for breakfast at Bacco. We ate, we drank, we made merry. And then she was gone again, flying south for the summer. It was strange to walk among the commuters in their fancy business casual. Part of me missed their rigidly defined sense of purpose. Deadlines! Action items! Feedback loops!

Then there was me, sipping Starbucks coffee outside Westlake Center, reading a mass market paperback. Watching.

It won't last forever.

Time passed and now I'm feeling 35% yuck so I'm taking the night off from being whatever it is I be.

I still need to submit the story I've been working on. Tomorrow, maybe.

Deficient in titles, rich in activities

I need to come up with a title for the short story I'm working on. It's about 2,800 words and I'll submit it in the next day or two to make the deadline.

I'm going to a reading tonight, tomorrow night I have a writing thing, then Thursday is class, Friday is another reading, and Saturday there's a party at a friend's.

My schedule runneth over with good stuff.

I've got "The Deadliest Catch" playing in the background. I usually work in silence, but today I wanted to stuff my ears with tales of epic crab catchery. The good thing about a show like this is it sure puts my own quiet life in perspective.

It also keeps me thankful for the lack of rogue waves in my dining room.

Swing and a miss

So I have a set of golf clubs now, thanks to one of Jeremy's generous co-workers. He brought them home Friday to my surprise.

Jer's had a set for years, but mostly it's sat in the garage getting dusty. But yesterday was so sunny and nice that when he suggested we go to the driving range, I did not say no.

Going to the driving range is not something I've done much before, but Interbay Golf Center seemed to have very well-maintained and modern facilities. The whole area consisted of two covered levels. We went up to the second level, at the far end, and Jer punched in the code from our receipt to receive our bucket of balls.

Jer was extremely patient showing me the basics of a swing. By the end, I won't say I was any good, but I wasn't embarrassing or hurting myself -- always a plus.

Afterward, we drove down the street and had dessert at Redmill Burger. I ordered a chocolate malt, having earned every sip of that liquid heaven.

Because Jer knows the best way to get me to do something I'm not sure I want to do is offer promises of chocolate milkshake.

I guess golfing isn't so bad.

Playing tourist

My parents (and friends) were in town the last two days so I've been playing tour guide in downtown Seattle. The weather couldn't have been nicer -- and it looks as if today will be more of the same.

We did my two favorite things: we rode buses through the transit tunnel and drank vast quantities of beer. We also went on the Underground Tour in Pioneer Square, wandered through Pike Place Market, rode the Monorail, visited the Waterfall Garden Park (birthplace of UPS), and I waited while they took an Argosy Harbor Tour and went to the top of the Space Needle.

For meals, we ate at Tat's, Dahlia Lounge, Gelatiamo, Kell's, J&M Cafe, and the Tap House, with a brief stop at the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory.

It was a good time, and now I find myself more sunburned than I expected and itching to finish a story I set aside. Should probably mow the lawn, too.

Happy Sunday.

Now with more hot air

There's a man in the crawl space measuring. It is disconcerting to hear someone banging away in there.

So far -- knocking on all available wooden surfaces -- we haven't had any home ownership surprises, and I aim to keep it that way, as much as it's within my power. Hence the man crawling through the cobwebs. We're having some work done to make our furnace more efficient. A return vent is being moved, some leaky spots are being plugged, and we're getting some kind of futuristic control unit.

I would always prefer to spend this sort of money adding shark-infested moats and intimidating turrets to the property, but knowing hot air will be able to get from the furnace to the upstairs will be a consolation come winter, I guess.

Now the man in the in-between is sneezing. What an odd sound.

Hey, look, my name in print

A writing class I recently attended produced a private printing of our short stories. The teacher organized the whole thing, and I provided the cover photo and some minor line editing.

Last night the books were ready and I drove out to Bellevue College with a box of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies to see my classmates again, share some food, and sign our books.

It was a lot of fun and the book looks great. Print on Demand is exciting technology.

So that was a nice way to spend a Monday night. It also marked the first time I've seen my name in print (for prose), which only happened because I helped do it myself.

(The book would've happened without me, but if I hadn't taken the class or submitted my story, my work wouldn't have been printed. That's what I mean by "helped do it myself.")

Funny how that works.

The journey should be respected

I won't ask you not to spoiler.

You're free to say whatever you want, but you should know if you give away a story's ending or share in casual conversation something about a character living across multiple sequels who is often in peril, then you force me to assume I've seen the iceberg's tip of your potential cruelty (or inconsiderateness).

Yes, you are free to spoiler. And I am free to hide all your future posts, unfollow you, or assume nefarious things about your intentions.

Updated to add: Rereading this I realize it comes across as pretty harsh. To clarify, I've never minded general talk about an author or a story. It's when people throw out crucial specifics, like so-and-so died, and they say it without warning-- that's what I'm talking about here.

500 words or bust

I'm sitting at a booth in Panera Bread with my husband and our laptops, doing what we do every Sunday, but in public. It's an experiment, see. I'm trying to write 500 words and he's surfing the internet.

I predict he will slam-dunk this experiment. I'm half-way to success myself.

I've recently become a Panera convert and hope to spend many more quality hours here, drowning in Hazelnut coffee and free wi-fi.

I'm not counting the words in this blog post, by the way. That would be cheating.

One of my how-to books wants me to write 3,000 words every day. Where I'm at in life, that seems improbable, albeit an admirable goal. Maybe if I didn't try to make them "good" words, I'd have a better chance. I self-filter too much when it comes to fiction. In life, for whatever reason, I hardly self-filter at all.

The only solution is to turn my mind inside out.

Okay, back to Word. We've already eaten one meal at Panera today and it'd be bad form to have to stay for dinner as well.

A trip to the bookstore, or, Why I Prefer Amazon

Keep a diary, but don't just list all the things you did during the day. Pick one incident and write it up as a brief vignette. Give it color, include quotes and dialogue, shape it like a story with a beginning, middle and end—as if it were a short story or an episode in a novel. It's great practice. Do this while figuring out what you want to write a book about. The book may even emerge from within this running diary.
JOHN BERENDT -- found on AdviceToWriters

I rode the escalator to the brightly lit, top floor of Barnes & Noble and hurried past the young adults' section. Black covers overwhelmed me, featuring pale, proud faces, half-turned in a sneer. They left me wondering what all those kids had to be so proud about. I missed Christopher Pike and Richie Tankersley Cusick and Lois Duncan with their subtle evil, and cartoonish mass market covers.

A clerk asked if I needed help. "No, thank you," I said.

I walked past the gold star stickers, stacks of elementary school workbooks, and Lego sets. When I was young there were special stores for teachers' things. They weren't crammed between the romance section and the bathrooms, like an afterthought.

I know what I sound like. This is why I usually only think these things instead of say them.

My section's location was even worse. "Reference": As close to the toilets as a section could be without falling in. I removed a scrap of paper from my purse on which I'd written a popular book title. I stepped closer to examine the spines.

A clerk pushed in beside me with a rolling cart piled with books and started shoving them in the empty places.

She glanced at me, "Can I help you find something?"

I shook my head. She filed around me, pressing into my personal space bubble, pushing me to the side. I finally stepped back and watched her for a moment. Having worked for this same chain, I knew what I had to do.

"Excuse me," I said. "Actually I do have a book you can help me find." And I told her the title.

She half-assedly scanned the shelf and said, "I don't see it. Did we tell you it was here?"

I said no. I wouldn't have bothered her, I said, except the same author had been filed in two different areas of the same section. Was there anywhere else the book could be?

She shrugged. "Things get misfiled," she said, as she shoved another handful of books into an empty place. "They can order it for you, downstairs."

I thanked her for her help, and she wandered away, leaving her cart behind. Finally I was free to examine the section in peace. If there's one thing working for a bookstore had taught me is that those offers of help are usually appended with a silent, "Please don't ask me anything. I'm off in five minutes."

The most aggressively helpful clerks are often the ones who want to help you the least.

In the end, I was unable to find the book I wanted. Just as well, since I later found it online cheaper with free shipping. And nobody, not once, tried to push me out of the way.

Thank goodness for Amazon.

Sometimes you just have to eat the bowl of garlic

I waited until the end of yesterday to post and the experiment failed. By then all my words were muddled and I was so far out of my head I felt like my brains had been scooped out.

After dinner I invented words, as you do -- now posted exclusively on my Facebook page.

Speaking of dinner, my poor husband. First, he took me to the bookstore to find a book they didn't have. (I still left with three. How-to-write books are my self-help section.) And then we went to Kidd Valley and I ordered the garlic fries. Much like they sound, garlic fries are drowned in raw, delicious garlic. And when I finish the fries, my favorite thing is to eat the garlic with a fork. (Sorry, Jer.)

I spent the rest of the night on the other side of the room, breathing into my sleeve.

Today the smell oozes from my pores. For the good of all, I will confine myself indoors.

You're welcome, world.

Unpresent

One thing I didn't expect when I started writing fiction during the day is how braindead I'd feel by evening.

Like somebody stuck a straw in my brain and sucked out all the matter.

What's a matter?

Nothing a pot of coffee can't fix.

I'm about to do that thing where I jump in over my head and hang on for dear (or deer) life. Sometimes it works. Sometimes I get stabbed in the neck by antlers. In about a month I'll know which one wins this time.

Stupid antlers.

Station identification break

We interrupt this programming to let you know about my Facebook page.
Folly Blaine

Promote Your Page Too

I'm looking for a few good people to Like me. Are you up to the challenge?

Seriously though, I need a few more fans before I can get into the good FB stuff. Any help you can throw my way would be appreciated.

I hear you asking, "What's in it for me?" An excellent question! I'll have you know I scour the internet for your entertainment. In this case, I assume you are entertained by breaking news about the Google e-book reader (goes on sale Sunday at Target for $140) and snarky articles about creativity.

I've also gone back to Twitter, if that's more your thing. You can find me @follyblaine.

Aaaand I'm on Google Plus, just search for "Folly Blaine" or click here to see my profile. (Bonus feature: You'll learn my secret real name, and see a photo of me looking very confused. Who wouldn't want that?)

Please find me. It's so lonely and cold out here.

Pompeii, Two Pictures

I have lost civilizations on the brain, kicking up memories of Pompeii. Here's a pic I hadn't posted yet:

Plaster cast, victim of the Mount Vesuvius eruption in 79 A.D., in the city of Pompeii. (October 2010)

And here was my favorite spot, as seen previously on the photoblog:

Villa dei Misteri, or Villa of the Mysteries, is a well preserved Roman villa on the outskirts of Pompeii buried for centuries in ash. (October 2010)

What counts as real

I'm trying something new for a recent rejection. Before I blindly resubmit, I'm going to make this story better. Crazy, huh?

Without thinking about it, I've been mentally dividing my writing life into "before" and "after" I took the writing classes at Bellevue College.

In the Before time, I didn't know I was supposed to maintain a point of view -- that it can be much harder to do an omniscient narrator well.

I wasn't dealing with plot. Instead I discovered the story as I went, through a series of exploratory detours, without thinking about how satisfying the resolution would be for a reader. And that can be okay, if I'd been willing to rewrite the story once I figured it out for myself.

It wasn't malice that left my stories sloppy, just good ol' fashioned ignorance. How I could be so well-read, and never notice the framework, speaks to the power of suspending one's disbelief.

My first story where the light came on started at 5,000 words. When I listened to the feedback I received, I compared it to what I wanted to say and found they didn't match. So I threw out all the words and rewrote the story completely, and on purpose. It ended up a much cleaner and compact 4,000 words.

Even though I was a technical writer for years -- and will probably do it again since I like the work -- I only count these last five months as real. I only count three of the short stories I've ever written as real. (I ignore the plays through a feat of mental gymnastics.)

The story that was rejected and now I want to "make better" is the second story of the three. It has a simple plot, but I believe it has potential. While cleaning the story up yesterday, I realized one of my crutch words is "it." The story was full of "its."

There are still so many tools I don't have yet, and I do not excel at this patient-acquisition-of-skills malarkey. But I guess it's true what they say, the only way to be a writer is to write.

Lessons Learned: Short Story Edition

I submitted my Machine of Death story last night. I started it June 8, rewrote it many times, and now it's hard to believe I don't have to think about those characters anymore.

Godspeed, characters.

What did I learn with this one?

Feedback was critical. I hammered away on my own until I lost all objectivity, then I trickled it out to a few people, then I submitted it to larger circles. In effect, I road-tested this one. And every time I convinced myself nobody would notice a part that didn't work, someone would call me on it.

My biggest problem with this story was muddy character motivation. When I asked myself what was going on, I realized I wasn't even sure what I wanted to say. So I forced myself to figure it out and then rewrote again.

Now I can honestly say this is the best short story I've ever written. Whether or not my effort was good enough to make the cut, remains to be seen. But it's happening slowly. I'm getting better.

Optimism: Cloaking the bitter seeds of self-delusion, since 2011.

Why I'd make an awful teacher

I'm in a race to finish critiquing a pile of manuscripts before the beer kicks in.

Um, if I'm critiquing your manuscript, I am TOTALLY joking.

Good thing I'm doing this for free.

So, Today, tell me about yourself. Were you good? Did you have a fine time?

Why, yes, Christy, all is well with me. Y tu?

Thank you for asking, Today. You are always such a gentleman. I am good, too.

Bah. So today I paid a man to run a Whole House Diagnostics on our furnace, which went well. (Preventive maintenance, FTW.) And I worked on a piece of flash fiction, which I wrote in first person as an experiment, and have stared at too long and am now wondering how weird it makes me sound. (Answer: pretty weird.)

And then the rest of the day was filled with other people's words. As I said, I am still making notes, and trying to be fair, objective, and insightful, which is like juggling knives, which I have done if you want to know the truth. I have also juggled torches and can do a passable job of three balls at a time. Four is tough.

(I am available for parties.)

It is 8pm and I still have about 50 pages to critique. But I am not complaining, please do not think that. I volunteered. This is what I want. But maybe, just maybe, it is time to switch to the hard stuff and see where the booze takes my feedback.

This is why I could never be a teacher. I would scrawl in red ink across essays things like, "Why no kangaroos?" and "I bet you think you're better than me" and "Repent sinner, the time is nigh!!!"

Scary Spice wants me to Hurt

I've used "Get Fit with Mel B" on the PS3 for four days, and now that I'm an expert, I have a new result to share.

My calves are sore! Like, ouch, standing hurts, sore.

Is it true? Do I not use calves in daily life? Scary Spice teaches all sorts of valuable lessons, from gross nutrition suggestions to which parts of your body are in danger of falling off.

What else to share now that I've earned workout medals for awesomeness in dance, cardio, AND combat? Working out at home is pretty great. I can wear whatever I want and bend any which way, and not feel self-conscious when I face plant into the coffee table. You should have seen me in that bridesmaid dress doing the cha cha. I was a vision.

Working out at home, I also get to recoup all that gym travel time. Now I just push the couch back, slide a disc into the PS3, and let Mel B's soothing avatar take me away.

If I could change one thing about the game, it would be this: since you have to hold the move controller anyway, why not build in a heart rate monitor to the grip? Or replace the controller with wrist and leg bands -- though I've read in other fitness games like the EA Active titles, the bands don't always pick up movement.

Maybe I'll just ask summer Santa for a heart rate monitor. Christmas in July, right?

Our newest vehicle

We've had beautiful weather in Seattle the last couple of days, very Santa-Barbara-like. Yesterday I even left the house a few times to pick up dry cleaning, meet Jer to buy a motorcycle, and enjoy a fine evening at an author reading.

Did I just say buy a motorcycle? I did, indeed.

You might remember, Jer totaled his Honda on a sunny day and a sharp turn. Damage to himself was minor, considering, but his bike hit the asphalt, slid down a grassy embankment, and landed in standing water. The repair shop stopped tallying when damages exceeded 11K. The bike was beyond totaled so Jer started haunting craigslist.

He test drove a lightly used bike on Saturday and was prepared to leave with it then, but we had to wait to complete the paperwork. After we waited, we bought it.

So that happened and I think it's a good thing. However, contrary to what Jer might tell you, my agreeing to this purchase does not mean I plan on riding on the back any time soon. No, sir.

Video games galore

I hope you all had an excellent fourth of July weekend.

This was the first 4th of July weekend in three or four years Jer didn't have to work swing shift. I've been taking his time for granted since he changed positions; it's easy to forget all those years of only seeing him twice a week. But we lived through the dark times. And now I've adapted to spending whole days without speaking to anyone, which is a useful skill for an aspiring writer.

Speaking of Jer, he's gone and got me hooked on something. Do you know about Steam? Many of you already do, but for those who don't, it's a way to play games on your computer, cheaply and instantly. You download the free Steam app, purchase games, and use the app to access and download games through your "library." You can also connect to your friends and view their games or chat. Right now Steam is having a huge summer sale, so you can buy game packs dirt cheap.

One of my absolute favorite games is called "The Longest Journey," and right now you can buy it and its sequel "Dreamfall" for 75% off or $6.24, which is a steal. (Click here for info.) It's a beautiful adventure game with a great story. If you think of video games as first-person shooters with no soul, then you need to check this one out.

My next favorite game and its sequel are also on sale, Syberia for 50% off, $7.49. (Click here for info.) The artwork is gorgeous, and the story is interesting with some nice puzzles.

A good general pack for adventure games is the Telltale Complete Pack. It's 79% off at $49.99 and gets you 17 games, a $235 value. It includes the classic Sam & Max games and Puzzle Agent, plus the Strong Bad game, and Tales of Monkey Island. Great stuff in there.

You can probably tell I'm not a big shoot 'em up fan. Interactive storytelling is what I like and recommend.

Speaking of games, I finally got around to trying "Get Fit With Mel B" on the PS3.

I was surprised I liked it. It uses the Move controller -- Sony's answer to the Wii and Kinect -- to track your exercise efforts. After you set up a profile and start a workout, Mel B demonstrates exercises on the left side of the screen, and the Move camera shows you in real-time on the right. The first workout I tried was dance-themed. If I hadn't done aerobics videos before I might have had a problem, but I was already familiar with most of the moves, so there wasn't any ramp-up time. (There was an optional tutorial for each exercise, but I skipped those.)

Anyway, I worked up a sweat. And I like how the game counted down the exercises and maintained a good pace. My only other comment -- having only done one workout so far -- is I would have liked a longer warm-up, but that's easily solved. I'll just stretch on my own first.

Happy Fourth of July!

It's not hard to take pictures of fireworks. All you really need is a tripod and a camera that can hold the shutter open for a number of seconds. This can mean using the camera's bulb setting, a remote control, or using a cable release. The first year I tried shooting fireworks, I was lucky to get lightning in the same shot.

Purchase a print of Fireworks, Space Needle, Lightning (2006)

This next picture is one of my favorites. You can actually see the explosion in slow-motion, as the firework unfurls, twisting upwards into a fan-shaped scattering of light.

Purchase a print of Slow Explosion (2007)

This last image is my biggest seller. The only Photoshop work I did on it was to bump up the contrast and lighten the Space Needle.

Purchase a print of Big Finale Fireworks (2008)

I won't go into details about how to shoot fireworks -- lots of sites already do that. But I do recommend trying. The results can be very cool.

Check out my fireworks gallery for other photos.

Weight Watchers, Again

I know I've been quiet on the Weight Watchers front, so let's check in. I'm still paying for a weekly membership. I usually go. I went to a meeting on Friday and participated in a discussion about vacation strategies. Since I'm not planning to go on any vacations, it wasn't all that applicable, but hey, I went.

My secret travel weapon is raw almonds in a baggie. For what it's worth.

August third will be my one-year anniversary with Weight Watchers. I've lost 20 pounds since I joined, which is a little less than halfway to my goal. Admittedly, 20 pounds isn't all that great for a year, but a loss is a loss. I'll take it.

About a week ago, I returned to the gym, taking it slow. I aim for 40 minutes of cardio and then free weights and resistance training for 15 minutes. I overdid it yesterday and spent most of the day feeling exercise-drunk. Today I'm giving myself a rest.

My eating isn't perfect. I'm not adhering strictly to the plan, and I'm bored with tracking. However, my choices are better than they used to be. I almost always have fruit on hand, along with reasonable snacks like string cheese and non-fat Greek yogurt. For the most part I still do the tracking math in my head.

So the point of this entry is: I could do better if I worked at it, but instead I've been doing the minimum.

I do plan to make an effort to continue the exercise. I'm tired of feeling my body atrophy beneath me.

And that's my WW update.

The finish line is around here somewhere

I've said it three times before so there is no reason for anyone to believe me now, but the short story I've been writing since June 8 is done. With the disclaimer: I reserve the right to make minor word changes up until the last minute.

This is the first story I've ever written with an actual plot. Things happen for reasons. People change. And it is light years better than when I finished the first draft. Almost all of the events have stayed the same, but the details are all different. I added transitions between paragraphs, removed bloat, and added in some humor. I also spent many quality hours with the thesaurus, because left to my own devices I tell a story like a valley girl.

It's taken weeks, far longer than I can afford to spend on a regular basis, but it's a real story.

I feel like Mister Gepetto: it's a real boy! A real boy! Let's just hope I can skip being swallowed by a whale now.

Hold the phone. I just realized the Blue Fairy at the end of the A.I. movie was supposed to be a Pinocchio reference. Because he wanted to be a real boy, get it? I was too busy making fun of the sudden change of tone at the end, "Two thousand years passed..." or whatever they said, to even notice. Or maybe I knew it once and then forgot; I couldn't have been that dense. Anyway. Movie comprehension fail.

Speaking of comprehension, I watched the most recent episode of True Blood and all I have to say is, "Wha?"

BeneFictions for Earthquake Relief

Last night I went to a benefit reading for Japanese earthquake disaster relief. The event was put on by Horrific Miscue (Seattle), a writer's group made up of former graduates of Clarion programs, and took place at Inner Chapters Bookstore & Cafe off of Mercer.

Despite the somber cause, there was a lot of laughter. I was worried about not really knowing anyone, but that wasn't a problem. Everyone I met was friendly and welcoming. And it was a great opportunity to hear local science-fiction and fantasy authors read exceptional work. I'm glad I didn't miss it.

The bookstore donated 15% of food and drink sales and provided a great space. In addition, Horrific Miscue sold a chapbook to raise donations. I don't know the final numbers, but I saw a decent amount of cash being counted at the end of the night.

Donations will be sent to the American Red Cross, flagged for this issue. Here is a link to the Red Cross site if you would like to consider donating as well.