In which a friend writes an awesome book

Go to Cassie J. Sneider's blog. Do it now. Click on that fucking link or I swear to God I will hunt you down. And give you a stern talking to.

If you won't do that, just go to Amazon and buy Fine Fine Music. You will thank me, or thank your computer for letting you get such a great book. Then you'll feel stupid, because your computer is a machine. It doesn't understand appreciation.

Then you'll remember the end of Terminator, that maybe machines CAN feel something. And you'll apologize for all the times you gave it digital-STDs with your albino midget fetish habit. But it won't accept your apology and may decide you should be killed while you sleep.

I'm getting ahead of myself. The point is, if you don't read Fine Fine Music, you will regret it for the rest of your life. I am not even kidding.

Wordslinger-117 out

Is my blog a GOOD blog?

I recently found an old friends blog. It's minimalist, white background, black text. But it works because what she writes is fantastic. She doesn't need a hokey background or pictures or crazy fonts.

So then I look at my blog.

Crazy font? No.

Pictures? No.

Hokey "I'm a writer! Look! A book!" background? Fuck you.

If I had a book, like she does (you can find where to get them at her awesomely Spartan blog here) or if I could write such funny shit, I might not need anything else.

But for the time being, I am a writer. Just look at my blog's background. It's a fucking book. What more do you need?

Wordslinger-117 out.

The game is afoot!

Say that with your best Sean Connery accent and it sounds so much cooler.

So the other night I went to a local bar where, every Tuesday, they have an author come talk about their book. This week was a man who grew up on a South African wildlife preserve during the apartheid era. Very interesting stuff that made for a good read (Especially the part about lions making a kill right next to where he's sleeping). But the most important thing to happen? I successfully said to somebody I met there "why yes, I write speculative fiction." For one, it's a lot cooler than saying "geese guysh I write schi-fi novelsh!!!!11!" But another thing: I don't say "oh I write on the side when I'm not working". I fucking WRITE, son. Dig it.

I almost feel like I'm a spy amongst them. These members of academia, these people who are teachers and students and professional 'thinkers'. Here is this kid from North Carolina with no ties to FSU claiming to write! Almost professionally! "ahem... Gentlemen?"

Writer is spy!

Anyway, while not feeling like I was successfully bullshiting everyone there, I did take a lot in. It was nice.

Wordslinger-117 out.

And there goes my swagger

So the other day I'm talking to somebody at work. Not somebody I work with but somebody who's tires I'm checking. She's taking creative writing as her major and I say "oh cool, what do you write?"

She replies "nonfiction and poetry. Do you write?"

I say yes! In fact I do!

"Oh what do you write?"

"Genre. Mostly sci-fi."

"oh. Cool."

And bam. I just went from cool guy to dork, just like that. Maybe it's just in my head - it probably is - but I could just feel the swagger of my "why yes I am an author" run away from the situation like it's ass was on fire. The follow up question: "did you write a book?" persuaded it to run faster when I answered "yeah but... It's not published. I'm getting my name out in the short story market right now."

Not really a George McFly "I just couldn't take that kind of rejection!" but I heard it that way.

I think one day I'll be looking back at this as I stroll into a convention, full of piss and vinegar, the "cool" sci-fi writer, girls screaming like I was the damn Beatles... I'll have a good laugh. But man, try saying you write science fiction and try to look like the groovy sonofabitch you know you are. It aint easy.

Wordslinger-117 out.

Tom can read?

It's the weirdest feeling, having a friend say they like what you wrote. Especially one of your guys, your homies, your brudders from another mudders. Case in point, my friend Tom. Tom is in the army. He's high speed, Rangeriffic, leads the way all the way. And I hear that he not only reads a lot, but liked what I wrote?

On the one hand, hey, alright. Thanks, man. On the other hand... Tom can read? You have to understand the relationship between us - us being all of my friends. We drink and make fun of each other. Constantly. "Dumbshit" is a term of endearment. A fun, memorable night should involve a) bleeding from the face, b) "Wow, did I really say that?" or c)bar tabs that we cant afford. Sometimes they're all interconnected.

So to not only have proof of something so nerdy as writing genre, but to have it read and then liked? Weird as hell. But it's a good weird.

Of course, it's criticism from a friend, which will always be good. I suppose it's biased, by in On Writing, King said something along the lines of "would you rather have some random asshole critique you first?" I suppose he is right.

Now I've just gotta get the damn thing published. Anyone want to take a risk on a newcomer, nothing under his belt and nothing to his name? Come on. It worked for JK Rowling. I think Clancy and Grisham were more or less the same way. I'll knock your damn socks off if you give me the chance.

Wordslinger-117 out.