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Kurt R.A. Giambastiani

Here is the original version of “Cast in Stone,” a trunk story I wrote about 20 years ago (Good lord, has it been that long?) If you missed the history of this piece, go read the Preamble to this edit-fest.

And to remind you of the color codes for each error type:

  • Telling, not showing
  • Clunky phrasing/naming names
  • Exposition
  • Bad metaphors/similes/adjectives
  • Wiggle words
  • Echoes

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Century City

Woohoo!

This blog just reached the 100 mark for folks interested enough to click the “Follow” button. (I do hate the term “followers.” You’re not that. You’re interested, and you might be following along with the ongoing conversation here, but “followers” just has too much baggage. Of course, “persons of interest” isn’t much better.)

On a purely empirical note, this does point out the difference between blogging and social networking. I’ve had an “Author” page on Facebook for years, but it took forever for that page to garner even two dozen interested persons. Here, in less than seven full months, we’re at 100 and (slowly) climbing.

On the flip side, I am pretty sure that each and every one of those FB “likers” has bought a copy of my latest novel. After all, it was their love of my books that made them look for me on FB in the first place. By contrast, I’d be really surprised if even 6% of the interested persons here has bought one of my books. I’m not complaining; I’m merely observing. It makes total sense, no? Most of you who have come here to this blog didn’t know me from Boo Radley before you happened by. Most of you didn’t come here wanting to know more about my books; you saw a post and found it of interest. Click: Interested person. Naturally, the transition from interested person to devoted reader is a slow, deliberate process, and one not to be rushed.

But I’m glad you’re all here (You, too, Gidi…you’re #100, believe it or not!)

And now, on with the show.

k

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Obey the Kitty!It’s been seven months since I began this experiment, and I feel it’s been pretty successful. The interest from you all has gelled around a handful of topics–writing, food, reviews, Seattle–but I haven’t felt restricted or limited in any way. And to date, nearly a hundred of you have decided to keep tabs on my flow of opinions. Thank you; I find that gratifying and encouraging.

Oddly, one of the most popular posts has been my review of “Ripper Street.” That one post, still only a couple weeks old, ranks #4 on the “most viewed” list, surpassed only by the Home Page and other pages that have been here from the beginning. And most every day, it gets a couple hits, mostly from search engines looking for references to a “peeper’s dry plate.”

So, if you’re here looking for an explanation for that rogue comment, made by Sergeant Drake on “Ripper Street” (S1E1):

A “peeper” was Victorian slang for a mirror, but also (as today) for anyone who might be engaged in voyeuristic activities, such as a photographer of smut.

A “dry plate” is an improved photographic plate, using gelatin, that was invented in the late 19th c., and which had many practical advantages over the “wet plate.”

 My thanks again, to you who read this regularly.

k

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Obey the Kitty!

Obey the Kitty!

As of the first, my inbox and this blog have been inundated by new spam. Whereas before this blog used to get only 2-4 spam posts per day, now it gets 2-4 dozen spam posts per day.

And is it a requirement that a spam post must include misspellings and grammatical errors? I mean, if you’re going to go to the trouble of putting meaningful text in your spam, why not write it correctly. Have some pride, people!

However, as a result, if you’ve made a comment and it disappears, my sincere apologies; please send me a note and we’ll work to fix it. I want to see the comments from ALL of you–comments close the loop and let me know if what I’m posting is making sense.

Moving forward with my “The View from Here” posts, I’m not going to put these up daily. First, they take more thought to prepare than rants like this, and second, I want to give us time to discuss one topic thoroughly before moving on to the next.

So, for now, I’m going to be glad it’s Friday, I’m going to enjoy the absolutely dreary weather Seattle offers me today, I’m going to make some notes anent my recent trip to California, and I’m going to water my orchids.

And yes, I just used the word “anent” in a sentence. Try it. It’s fun!

k

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Kurt R.A. GiambastianiOne day my mother came home with a slogan from her workplace. “Lower Your Expectations,” it read. Not really the gung-ho mentality of today but hey, it was the ’70s. Anyway, my father saw it, found it somewhat ludicrous, and came back with the flip side: “Up Your Aspirations!” He even had it printed up on a t-shirt.

This probably tells you more about my father than it does my mother.

The point of this (and I have one) is that, as writers, we must manage both our expectations and our aspirations. This came home to because my wife has recently begun to ply her hand at writing, and tonight we had a discussion about what aspirations she might have, as a writer. Sensibly (I thought) she said that, at this point, she doesn’t have aspirations of writing for a living or even for profit. Right now she just wants to play with it and to learn how to be a better writer. I know I’ve harped on this before, but I believe it’s important; writing is a lonely business, and publishing is a cutthroat business. Writing for profit ain’t for the faint.

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Stack of BooksI’ve been trolling the blogs, the last few days, reading fiction from new/unpublished writers. I see the same thing, over and over, the same mistakes, repeated.

I don’t know why writers continue to make these mistakes. Read any article or book on modern writing and you’ll see these problems called out. Perhaps it’s that some new writers don’t read books about writing, don’t analyze their own work. I don’t know.

What I do know, is that there are some new writers who read this blog (we’re up to 80+ followers, now, with slow but steady growth), so I thought I’d go over these basic problem areas in a series of posts. I hope it starts a conversation with some of the apprentice writers out there. (more…)

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Gossamer WheelI have been absent from this blog for a handful of days—something I try not to do. But in the course of human events, some things take precedence over others.

During my absence from these pages, I traveled to my hometown to see my mother, who is dying of brain cancer. Three months ago she was up and about, concerned about a pain in her back, but a woman to be reckoned with. Two months ago, after a diagnosis of cancer in her lung, she began chemotherapy. One month ago, ravaged by the treatment, she learned that it was worse than expected, and the cancer was in her brain as well. Two weeks ago, cancer was found in her spine, also: the cause of her original pain. One week ago, the cancer took her down to the mat, and the family decided to gather.

My family is a complicated organism. All intelligent, many artistic, every one of us as twitchy as the next, each in our unique way. Our mother is a powerful force with a gift for organization and a penchant for perfection. We have been well-trained.

We gathered, and pulled it off with near-military efficiency. Plans were proposed, decisions were made, information was disseminated. Food appeared when it was needed, without preamble or fuss. Schedules were synched. We were a hive of activity beneath a surface of quiet, supportive calm. We gathered, we wept, we laughed, we touched hearts and held hands. Those of us who, like me, live far away, did our best to say goodbye without actually doing so. We rarely say exactly what we mean in my family, or say it to the person who needs to hear it most. In matters of the heart, we are often indirect, and so we remain.

We created moments, for her, and for ourselves. We relished every smile we brought to her face, every tear we shed, and every comfort we could provide one another. I was, at the end of the weekend, immensely proud of my family.

In a few days or a few weeks, we will gather again. Afterward, we will be very different; we will not have that dynamo at our center, keeping our orbits in check. We must find a way to make the transition. We must learn a new way to remain together, else we will fly apart, separate worlds each on our own path through life.

But if this past weekend is any barometer, we will find fair weather again.

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