A little talk about Easter and the mechanics of the search engine...

This time of year, I always see an increase in the amount of traffic here at Dogs of Atlantis, a fact that continually surprises me. I don't often talk about my faith, because, well... I don't think anyone really wants to hear about it. Still every Easter like clockwork, I get roughly twice the visitors to my site that I normally get, and considering I never talk about Christ, the Church (Capital C) or faith other than to make the occasional "Vampire Jesus" joke, I have always wondered why.

The answer my friends, is simple. It's all about food, which I talk about constantly.

Part of my Easter tradition growing up was to eat a lot of chocolate bunnies. When I say a lot, I mean at least two a year, three if I could sneak my brother's out of the basket before he realized he had one. After that, we would all pile into the family car and go over to my Grandpa's house where he would have prepared a traditional Italian Easter dish I grew up knowing as Pizza Gain.

This is apparently where all my hits at Easter time have been coming from. A few years ago, I had a longing for Pizza Gain, and posted about it. It was heartwarming, touchy feely and as devoid of crude humor as I ever get. It also included my Pizza Gain recipe for all the world to see and enjoy, and apparently that... among all my hard fought attempts at comedy, pathos, slice of life essays and writing advice... is what interests my fellow travellers on spaceship Earth.

Far be it for me to argue... it's a really good recipe. Here it is again, and Happy "Jesus is A Zombie so let's all eat a chocolate rabbit for some reason" day to one and all:

Rob's Pizza Gain (Pizza Rustica, Italian Easter Pie)

Ingredients:
2 lbs of good ricotta cheese (dense, not watery, being the standard here)
1lb of deli ham, cubed (or capicolla if your local deli has it)
1lb of Genoa salami (any hard salami should work... but Genoa has just the right blend of garlic and fat)
9 large eggs
1lb cubed Mozzarella cheese
3 tbs of dried parsley
2 tbs of dried basil
2 deep dish ready-made pie crusts, or 3 regular depth**
1 copy of Dimensional Games or any other one of Rob's really funny books

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. in a large bowl, mix together the eggs and the ricotta. add all the deli meats and cheese, and the basil and parsley. Pour the mixture into the pie crusts and bake for 45-50 minutes, or until the edges turn golden brown. remove from oven and let stand until completely cool before serving. Read the copy of my book that suspiciously found it's way into my ingredients list while you wait. My Mom says that you need to let it age for at least a week... yeah, you just try waiting that long. Even my fun adventure novels won't keep you from digging in for that amount of time.

**Note- Grandpa Ferdinando's traditional Pizza Gain always had a top crust... I have never gotten the hang of making pie crust from scratch, So if you feel up to it, go for it. Don't forget to do an olive oil wash (not egg) and vent the top.

CoastCon Craziness...

This past weekend, CoastCon 36 descended upon the Mississippi Gulf Coast Coliseum, and much fun was had by all. My panel load was actually fairly light compared to years past, which was a good thing as it gave me more time at my table in the vendors room selling books and talking to my fans.

It still feels a little strange to say "my fans". I don't know if it will ever feel quite natural. I will probably always think of myself as just an ordinary guy with a gift for fart jokes, and it always amazes me when those around me see me as anything more.

Still, I did really well at CoastCon. I sold almost all the books I brought, and got to meet some wonderful people and catch up with old friends. In attendance was Kerlak Publishing's Allan Gilbreath and Kim Richardson, who surprised me with a copy of the most recent anthology to feature my work, "Dreams of Steam III: Gadgets" I've already read through my copy, and have to say that it is truly an honor to be counted among such talented authors. At least three people came up to me with copies of the book in their hands for me to sign over the weekend, and I saw many more walking around with copies, which made me smile.

It seems that I'm developing quite the reputation as a "Steampunk" author. I find this funny because I think of myself more of a "Historical Fiction/Alternative history/Sci-fi" guy. I suppose that Steampunk is alternate history so I won't quibble... It's enough for me that people seem to enjoy what I write. The Adventurers League of G.E.A.R.S. was doing a panel as I was walking by about Steampunk, and called me in to talk to their audience about the steampunk elements of my books. I will admit, I totally felt like a rock star.

The ZBBC was also there, promoting their Kickstarter for the Adventures of Keith Flippen. For those that haven't seen it yet, here is the original, award winning short:

I am truly blessed to be surrounded by such fun, creative people.

Next up: The Louisiana Sci-Fi and Costuming Festival

First rule of Art Klub...

Last night, I got the opportunity to represent the ZBBC at a local artists collective, Artist Inc. for their "Real to Reel" night featuring local filmmakers. Originally, our uber-editor and director of photography Kirk was supposed to go, but he is busy with his wife in California attending Filmapalooza, where "The Adventures of Keith Flippen" will be screened in front of a Hollywood audience for the first time.

While I am completely jealous of their networking opportunity to shmooze with the film industry's elite, I would be nervous as hell if it was me.

Watching an audience watch your work is always a little weird. You sit there, holding your breath, hoping they laugh at all the jokes, and that they will share your sensibilities for humor, pathos, and all the rest of it. Most of all, you sit there (or at least I sit there) hoping that it's actually good. When I've shown the film at various sci-fi conventions, there was always the safety net of knowing that at the very least, the audience will understand that Keith Flippen is at it's heart an homage to the classic Flash Gordon and Buck Rogers matinee serials of the 40's and 50's. They'll generally get the sci-fi referenced jokes (Like "If in space, no one can hear you scream, they certainly won't hear my Didgeridoo!") and appreciate why the whole thing looks a little cheesy. Stepping outside that safety net is always a difficult thing to do, and my thoughts are with Kirk and Shannon as they explore the strange new world of Hollywood.

In the meantime, I had my own "Strange New World" to conquer... the "inner city bohemian art house". Not exactly the final frontier... but I am ashamed to admit way outside my comfort zone. Artist Inc uses a downtown studio space shared by local artist of renown Michalopoulos (The dude that does all the trippy abstract paintings of New Orleans buildings) for their weekly "Art Klub" series. They vary genres from week to week, but showcase everything from poets, writers and filmmakers to musicians and dancers. It's all very artsy. It is also very much NOT my element. I'm a beer, pizza and fart joke kinda guy... not a wine, brie, and existential angst kinda guy.

Don't misunderstand me, I like talking in front of people about what it is I do, and these folks weren't the least bit pretentious. It's all my hang up, not them.

You see, it's like this...I enjoy relating my varied experiences to others about the process of writing, the paranormal, and most recently film making. I do it all the time at cons, and have grown quite accustomed to the role of "funny, entertaining guest" in front of a room full of curious people. I don't generally speak in front of a room full of artists. My fans and friends are all mind-bogglingly creative people, but few of them take their creativity seriously. With most of my friends, (and other writers), I feel perfectly comfortable poking fun at their genres. ("Allow me to present my own Haiku... There once... was a man... from nantucket.")

I don't feel comfortable making fun of people that consider themselves artists, because I know what it's like to make art... you put a piece of your soul out there for the world to see, and it can be devastating when someone chooses to mock it. I don't want to be that guy.

Problem is, I am ABSOLUTELY that guy. Comedy is my thing, after all. Inside I'm making notes about the absurdity of a lighting system that is also a modern sculpture... I'm giggling at the seating that has been salvaged from an old Cadillac... but mostly, I'm laughing inside at how serious it all seems. So I go in, make a few notes on my iPhone, and try to say as little as possible for fear of offending anyone that has worked really hard on the sculpture of "futility" that looks to me to be a cage made out of PVC.

Or maybe it was a cage made out of PVC. I don't know.... there was no title plaque or anything, but it just screamed "futility" at me. I admit that I don't know much about art. First rule of Art Klub... keep your insult hole shut unless you know what you're talking about.

Then the films start, and something amazing happens... while there is a moderator, and we had to introduce our films, the whole thing had the atmosphere of an informal cocktail party. (I was still careful not to insult the dark, gritty realism of the other films) It was really an excellent time. The artists involved were all genuine, interesting people with a dedication to their craft, and I am looking forward to attending their next "literary speaking" event for writers in a couple of weeks. Come on out and support your local artist community, and please don't make fun of them. Artists work really hard to move you emotionally, and like anyone that is dedicated to their craft, they deserve your respect.

Feel free however, to continue to make fun of me all you want, especially about my lack of knowledge about art.

A Writer, Tired.

One of the hardest things about being a writer is the inevitable times when your body shows up, but your brain is conspicuously absent from the process. That's right... it's commonly known as "Writers Block", but I for one abhor that term. I think a better one is "writer's standby mode".

Right now, as I write these words, my brain feels like it's just knee deep in mud. It's not a pleasant feeling, but here I am writing a few hundred words for you to read anyway.

You're welcome.

The reason that I can do this, flying in the face of writing advice books, psychological studies, and common sense is that I have trained my brain to write on command. Developing a writing habit isn't hard to do, and it's kind of like the experiment with Pavlov and his dogs. You get your brain to respond to certain stimuli, and it will know that when it receives that particular stimuli, it's time to quit bitching about fatigue, stress, money, or whatever, and start writing. My stimuli is a dose of caffeine, chocolate, and crappy acoustic music that my local coffee shop plays in what I assume is an effort to get people to free up tables. Still, just showing up doesn't give me a topic to write about when the brain isn't cooperating, and that's where the whole "Writer's Standby" Thing comes in.

Something almost any writer that does it on a regular basis will tell you is that real writers never really stop writing. A significant portion of our brain is at all times jotting stuff down on our mental notepad that will at some point be used in a story.  We are always coming up with neat ideas for essays, stories, characters, and scenes based on the events of our daily lives. That old adage "Write what you know"? This is what it means. Just because I've never lived on a spaceship doesn't mean I've never been in an almost completely artificial, enclosed environment. On a typical walk through the local Mall, I often think that in many ways the first sustainable Mars colonies will probably be a lot like the Mall, with recycled air, artificial lighting, and shops all contained under a glass atrium to prevent claustrophobia.

Silly? Perhaps. But you can bet that a shopping mall like space colony will eventually find its way into one of my stories. Then there are the random experiences and thoughts that are awesome, but will probably never find their way into one of my works. It's not that I don't like the ideas, it's just that they are tough to fit anywhere. Case in point... several years ago I had a co-worker tell me that her boyfriend had quit his job to pursue his life's passion. I'm always facinated by such people, and immediately asked her what he was doing, expecting to hear that his life's passion was the culinary arts, writing, acting, or something equally high risk/long shot high payoff. "So what is his passion?" I asked. "Juggling." she says. I immediately burst out laughing.

Ever since, I have found the idea of someone's life passion that they pin their hopes and dreams on being Juggling a very funny one, but I have yet to find an appropriate spot in my fiction to put it. But here I am, brain like molasses, relating the story to you because my brain has been told it needs to write something. Think about THAT the next time you get "writers block"!

We interrupt this Program...

Howdy, everyone! It's time to hear a little bit from the "Let's help Rob make a living from writing" side of things...

Have you ever wondered exactly how writers make a living from telling stories? Well, the sad fact is that most of us don't. It's difficult to make a living writing, and I know that every book I've sold so far is because I worked hard to sell it. I'm blessed in that my wife believes in me enough to pay the lions share of the bills while I work on taking care of the kids and writing, but it's not a perfect system. Like any small buisiness, there is a cycle of outlays and returns that adds up after a while. I write books, buy books to sell, travel to sell them, use money to write books, buy books and travel... etc.

In short, there hasn't been much of a profit margin. I really want to change that if for no other reason than to buy my wife a gift that she didn't actually pay for. Let me tell you a little bit about things that I'm currently involved with, and how you can help...

THE ADVENTURES OF KEITH FLIPPEN- The Webseries

This is the zany sci-fi adventure serial team Zombie and the Brain did for the NOLA 48 hour film competition last year. We won all kinds of awards, and the first question everyone asked was "When are you making another one?" Well, the answer is "As soon as we have the money to." To that end, The folks at the ZBBC have started a Kickstarter campaign to fund a six episode run, which I will be co-writing. You can see the original short Here, but the more money they raise, the more likely it is that I'll eventually get paid for my efforts. Thus far it has been a labor of love, but oddly enough Starbucks doesn't accept 'love' to pay for my morning cup of coffee.

More importantly than helping me get my morning cup of joe, contributing to our Kickstarter will help us strike a blow for independant filmmakers everywhere. The more successful films to come out of Kickstarter, the more Hollywood might realize that you want to see fun, risky, original stories instead of "Indiana Jones 17: The hunt for Medicare Cards" or another re-boot of "angsty super hero number 4"

 If anything, you should watch the pitch video... I'm in it as comedy relief...

Contribute to the kickstarter campaign here

THE JAKE PRICE SERIES

This is my series of novels, and the easiest way for you to directly contribute is to buy them at the links to the left of this page, or come out to one of my signings or convention appearances. I'll be happy to autograph one for you if you see me in person. Beyond that, the way that indie authors like myself become more popular is by word of mouth. If you liked my book, tell your friends, give it a review on Goodreads, or just comment about your favorite part of the book on Facebook. (I love it when that happens...) If you'd like to take a more active role, Damien Walter of the Guardian is currently looking for under-appreciated sci fi novels by indie authors like myself, and is taking suggestions from the internet in the comments of his article. Go there and suggest he read one of my books, and I'll give you a big hug the next time I see you. I promise it won't be awkward.

SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL FAN RUN CONVENTIONS

Photo of the incredible Cheri Cerio by Steven Dale

It's easy to forget that for a long time, being a fanboy wasn't cool. While I know that many people think that the mega-conventions like DragonCon, SDCC, and Wizard World are the face of fandom, the fact is that they have become such big media events that little guys like me can't afford to promote ourselves there. Local cons are much easier for the indy guys to use as promotion, but they are currently being squeezed hard by the big guys. This is where real fans gathered back in the dark days before TNG started bringing our fandom into the mainstream. Many are still going strong, but need your help to survive. There is a list on the left of cons I will be attending this year, but I encourage you to find one near you that isn't on the list. You won't regret it! The thing is, small cons are generally a lot more fun. You get some real facetime with your favorite authors and celebrities because the crowds are so much smaller, and that's always awesome. By showing your support for these smaller cons, you help them be able to pay guys like me to be guests, which helps us produce more of the entertainment you love, which gives you more of a reason to go to cons.

See? Cycles can work both ways!

The Annual State of the Rob address...

Yesterday was my birthday, which I chose to celebrate as quietly as possible. The reason for this is that I'm not very good company on my birthday, as I get a little caught up in the events of the previous year, what went right, what went wrong, and what the future holds. It's a tough process for me, and it tends to make me very moody and mopey. I think a lot of people do this, but distract themselves with planned events to keep themselves from dwelling on it too much. I have never been very good at this.

Our culture has elevated our birthdays to a personal holiday that can never really live up to the hype. Your birthday is supposed to be filled with fun, good times, good friends, and a party involving baked goods and pyrotechnics. Mine involved two calls from the kids school (once about each kid), fretting about my wife's malfunctioning bionic implant, and bad news about an event I help organize. I did have the chance to play STO for a little while, but on the whole my day was spent moping.

I believe that we are the product of the decisions we've made up to this point in our lives. all of us make good calls and bad calls about our lives that in turn we have to live with. I have made a few doozies over the past year or so, but on the whole, I think that I have made more good decisions than bad ones. My carrer is going really well, and I seem to have more writing projects than I know what to do with. I have 5 appearences booked for the coming year, (up from 3 last year), and have more on the horizon. I'm really starting to enjoy this whole "Professional Writer" thing.

So, why so mopey? That's a little trickier to explain... In a very real way, I may be hitting my mid-life crisis. Yesterday, my thoughts primarily dwelled on things I haven't accomplished, and things that I feel like I'm failing at. A lot of these things are beyond my control, of course... I can't make Pint Size poop in the potty, fix Silverfox's implant, make Short Stuff pay attention in class, or magically repair years of wear and tear on my truck... but I desperately want to, and sometimes it's difficult to accept your own limitations.

So, in the coming year, I'm going to try to accept the things that are beyond my control, instead of bitching about them. I'm going to try to write in my blog more. Most importantly, I'm going to try to be less of a freaking sourpuss.

Passing Gas and the Art of the Nickname.

Ever since my "Passing Gas and the Art of Marriage" post a few weeks back, I have become aware of a disturbing trend in my life... a good deal of my interactions with others revolve around farting and fart jokes.

I suppose it's not really all that much of a surprise, but I really think of myself as a little more high brow than that when it comes to my personal comedy.

I've noticed that both my kids (including Pint Size, who is not really talking yet) respond hysterically to fart jokes and jokes about farting. Both of them get giggles out of passing gas in front of each other, especially if I'm around to say "ewww". They will then do their best to double down on their flatus and toot a few more times. I watch, frowning as their faces contort, trying their best to produce more methane, and worry sometimes that they'll hurt themselves from the strain.

Fortunately, Pint Size learned a few weeks ago to make the noise with his mouth, and goes around making "ppppbbt" noises for hours at the dog. Short Stuff finds this "HEEE-STER-ICKLE" (his words, not mine) and bought not one, but TWO whoopie cushions at the arcade last night instead of all the other toys he could have spent his hard earned skee-ball tickets on. I'll be checking my seat for weeks.

My wife, despite her protests to the contrary, enjoys the gas humor as well, though she is far more subtle. The other day, I used a nickname for her in conversation we were having that she didn't approve of.  I shortened her given name in the way that "Silverfox" would be shortened to "Silver". She insisted that if I was going to shorten her name, she would prefer "Sil".

One thing about most of the writers I know is that we hate having our word choices criticized. "Excuse me?" I said, "You don't get to CHOOSE your nickname. By definition, a nickname is what others agree to call you!"

"Really?" she said in that "Rob you need to shut up and agree with me" voice.

"Yes, really." I said in my "I am way too stupid to just let this go" voice, "I could call you 'Silvy-Silvy-poo-poo' If I felt like it... as your husband it's up to me to come up with and implement a nickname for you. Not for you to just tell me what I'm gonna call you."

"Silvy-Silvy-poo-poo." She said quietly.

"That's right." I said, still not knowing that I should just leave well enough alone, "Don't even get me started on the banana-nana-fo-fana stuff."

"So, by that logic..." she starts with the "You are about to get slam dunked on by Jordan" voice, "I could call you whatever I want."

"I already have a nickname." I said, sensing the danger about to come for the first time, "It's Rob. It's a shortened form of 'Robert' and you use it all the time."

"Oh no my friend..." She said with a mischievous grin, "I will now refer to you solely by farting with a soft 'Brappt' sound."

"You wouldn't." I said in amused horror.

"I absolutely would"

"You couldn't. To physically produce that much gas as often as you say my name you would have to..."

"Drink six cups of coffee and half a case of diet Coke a day."

"You've already done the math?"

"That's right, 'Brappt'." She said*, "I would only have to drink like, an extra two cans of Coke and you would be at my mercy."

"Boy, it's a good thing you've already introduced me to your mom and all your friends." I said, "'Hi, Mom, this is my boyfriend 'Brappt'' wouldn't make a very good first impression."

"Sure you don't want to rethink this, 'Brappt'?"

"I already have, 'Sil'. I love you."

"I love you too."

Yes, she totally blackmailed me to her point of view. I cannot stress enough how much I love this woman.

*She SAID! My wife did at no time actually pass gas during this conversation!

Writers live hip deep in the manure sometimes...

One of the perks of being a writer in the digital age is that I get to spend a good deal of time on the internet promoting myself. The problem is that there is a very fine line between "Promoting Myself" and "Goofing off on facebook". It becomes a much bigger problem when my wife comes into the room and asks "Whatcha' doing?"

I ususally look up from whatever I'm typing furiously at and stammer a bit, while my mind goes from "Internet troll hunter" mode to "Devoted husband" mode. This never helps my case any, but it's unavoidable. One of the things that makes me a good writer is that I have this very focused, "tune out reality" thing that I do when I get on the computer that allows me to immerse myself in worlds of my own imagining, or sometimes in a particularly well written MMO of someone else's imagining. Coming out of this tunnel vision takes a few seconds.

So it happens that I look up from the keyboard, look deeply into my wife's incredibly sexy and curious deep brown eyes and say "Huh?"

"Whatcha Doing?" she'll repeat as the eyes go from "curious" to "annoyed".

"Oh..." I'll say, grasping for a handhold on the reality train, "I'm just updating my convention schedule*."

Silverfox always frowns at this point, although I doubt anyone but me would notice the subtle downward curl of her lip. My brain, now determined to fall into the car on the reality train that carries the manure, insists that I apologize. For what? No clue.

"Really, I'm sorry. Not just goofing off, I swear." I spit out. Hmm... Manure smells a little like that sewage line that comes out onto the beach a few blocks from my Dad's house...

Silverfox looks at me with daggers. I realize at this point that she may be having a rough day, and I sound exactly like Short Stuff explaining that cookies for dinner are recommended by the USDA, (as long as one of the cookies is raisin-oatmeal).

My brain backfires. I stand up in the manure car and smile, wiping the hay from my hair and drop the instant forgive-me bomb. "I love you." I say.

She snorts. I'm still ankle deep in the manure at this point.. but I my friend, am standing... not lying... in the pig poop! My brain yells at me to simply show her what I am typing, and prove to her that I am actually working. "HAH!" the left side of my brain yells at the right, "The truth is for sissies! I will triumph in this through sheer force of charisma!"

The right side of my brain tries to mount a defense about how well that worked for Hitler, but the left side charges forward, trying to climb out of the manure car by saying, "You know, I'm spending all this time on facebook for us!"

Silverfox turns and glares at me, and I know I'm screwed. The boxcar full of manure is sealed from the outside. I don't know yet about the hard time Pint Sized gave her at the doctor, the problems with her car, or the fact that one of the kids left the fridge open last night. All I really know is that I have just said something really, really bad.

The right side of my brain pushes the left side aside while calling him a moron. I turn the screen and show Silverfox that I've sold a few more copies of my books. I'm in the clear, for now.

Thank god she didn't notice the minimized "Star Trek Online" window**. That would have been really tricky to explain.

*only an example... I am often multi tasking, making funny status updates, writing my blog, planning appearances, making memes about how much I hate memes to promote "No Memes day", all at the same time. None of which is really goofing off.
** This is goofing off. Only on breaks, between serious attempts at promotion. I swear.

Passing Gas and the Fine art of Marriage...

A few weeks ago, I posted the following to my Facebook feed:

A christmas etiquette question... I know it's rude to pass gas on a crowded theater, but what if it's just you and your wife at a Christmas matinee of Les Miserables?

Not entirely surprising, as those that know me know that I am celebrated for being a fine comedic writer, and as one that passes gas often. What really intrigued me were some of the responses that I got, chastising me for having the sheer unmitigated gall to pass gas in front of my lovely wife, Silverfox.

This, quite frankly, surprised the heck out of me.

Passing gas in front of your significant other is a relationship stage that I thought all couples went through. Being able to pass gas in front of your partner or loved ones is a sign of your comfort around them... (heck, in my family, it's the closest thing we have to a group sporting event...) I understand that the action of expelling flatus is the subject of crude humor most times, and can be unpleasant and often inappropriate, but at the same time there is something quite loving about the statement that ripping one next to your partner says.

(Stay with me here)

Cutting the cheese in front of your partner says that you trust them. It says that you know that they know you're human. It says that you know they won't judge you for your defects, faults, and ugly bits. It says that you know that they understand you.

Understand me here... I'm not saying I would ever subject Silverfox to a dutch oven. I love her, but the woman has a Tazer and a Bat'leth. There have even been times where she has threatened to come after my posterior with a full bottle of Febreeze... but if I pass gas in bed, It's understood that sometimes, you just have to fart.

The funniest part of the Facebook backlash for me was that everyone assumed that it was me having to pass gas. It was totally me that had the gas, but I still find it really funny that no one suspected for a second that it could have been Silverfox.

DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME!

One of the things about being a writer that they don't tell you in all those books about writing is that a good deal of it is about time management. I suffer from a severe lack of this skill at times, and as my regular readers have probably guessed by now, the first thing to get dropped off my list when I need more time for a project is my blog posting.

As a result, I tend to not post very much from mid-November to early January. It's an unavoidable part of my life, and even though I hate it, it happens whether I like it or not.

It starts off when things really get hopping with NaNoWriMo. Regardless of my other obligations, I look forward to NaNo every year to give me a chance to get motivated on the first draft of a future novel. Both Dimensional Games and Interdimensionally Yours have their roots in a November blitz of caffeine and deadline. It's the one time of year I feel perfectly justified in closing the door on the kids and wife because I need to meet a daily word count.

Unfortunately, I tend to over-compensate for this by being "SuperRobDadMan" for the month of December. Paying special attention to the joys of family and friends for an entire month. I also use December as a time to reflect on the business of being "THE Rob Cerio", doing my best to nail down my appearence calendar, revise short stories, identify new markets, new projects, and new opportunities to move my career forward.

This is not an exceedingly healthy way to lead the writing life. Hang on, let me get a soapbox to stand on and pontificate from...

Better. Life my friends... is all about balance. Particularly when you want to get into the crazy, always changing field of writing. You have to balance keeping up your blog entries with producing your prose, editing said prose, advertizing said prose, and your obligations to the rest of the planet.

Me, I'm really great at the Writing and Editing parts of it all, and I like to think I'm pretty decent at the obligations to my friends and family that I often refer to as "My Real Life". It's the advertizing part of it that always gets my britches stuck in the spin dry cycle.

By advertizing, I mean things that ultimately will increase my readership, like maintaining my new Facebook fan page, booking and appearing at cons and writing seminars,(see "Rob's world tour" in the sidebar), coming up with witty blogs, tweets and status updates, identifying new projects to work on, and just generally standing up and trying to get the world to take notice of the speck screaming at it as it spins on.

Time was when these little details would be taken care of by a publisher or agent... Yeah, welcome to the new reality of being a writer in the 21st century. It's all on you, pally... get cracking. Ain't nobody gonna write those Facebook updates for you, and you've got to beat George Takei to the punch if you want to be relevant next week.

It's actually a lot of stress for a person to deal with, which is why I tend to slack on the blog. If any of my fellow writers have figured this balance thing out, I'd love to hear from you. If you're just starting out, though... Don't say I didn't warn you!

NaNoWriMo, take three.

November, as many of you already know, is NaNoWriMo, or "National Novel Writing Month". It is an online challenge to write 50,000 words in thirty days. This will be my fourth year participating in the challenge. Both of my novels started life as NaNobooks, so I obviously am a big believer in the challenge as an excellent motivator toward getting your first draft out of your system. I recommend the challenge for any aspiring writer, to help develop a writing habit... for more info, check out NaNoWriMo.org

A Few solid tips for surviving NaNoWriMo...

1) 1600 words a day really isn't all that much. (It's like 2 pages, or six solid paragraphs) Depending on how fast you write, most of us only need an hour or so a day to meet that goal... and when you are on a roll, you will write more than that.

2) Take advantage of the week one momentum. That first week, you are pumped. You are psyched. Use that energy to get ahead on your word count. I AM TERRIBLE AT THIS. I always tell myself that this will be the year I pad my word count, but I never seem to do it.

3) Understand that NO ONE writes every single day for the entire month. Your life will get in the way, but it's not insurmountable. Give yourself permission right now to lapse on game day or whatever. It will help keep you sane. (Particularly when you're trying to write and your spouse starts screaming "WHO DAT!" at the TV in the next room every time the Saints gain a yard.) Just also give yourself permission to come back to it the next day.

4) Understand that not all of your friends and family will understand your need to do this, or accept "I can't baby-sit/go out drinking/cook dinner/second line, I have to get my word count up" as an excuse. This is particularly relevant when your uncle wants you to help him fry a damn turkey for the first time.

5) Give yourself permission to be crappy. Bad writing comes hand in hand with good writing. It can also lead you in funny, clever directions you never expected. Think of it as your mind suddenly ducking into a seedy bar in the Marigny to avoid the rain, only to find that it's the coolest place you have ever been in your life.

6) Take advantage of our local food culture. We NolaWrimos have a distinct advantage over Wrimos in other cities in that we have great, pre prepared meals on every street corner. Seriously... there are entire sections of the national forums dedicated to casseroles and crock pot recipes for NaNo. Screw that! Get a Shrimp po-boy on your way home and call it a win!

7) Take advantage of our local meet-ups. I can't speak for everyone, but nothing gets me typing like Shannon and Suzy glaring at me about my word count. Knowing that tehre are others around you facing the same hurdles in plot, protagonists, and squirrels of mass distraction WILL help you finish.


8) (Suggested by Shannon, the NOLA ML) Don't underestimate the power of small writing times. Five, ten, and fifteen minutes really add up over the course of a day.

Good luck, WriMos! See you at kick off!

Friday Writing Prompt...

This is the first in what I hope will become a new series in which I pick a writing prompt from my various sources online, and then do it... The writing prompt is a great exercise for even the most experienced writer because it forces your brain to think in different directions than it might be used to. It's also a guaranteed way to get your daily words on the page by giving you an "assignment" to write about. I have the hardest time forcing myself to write on Fridays, so it seemed like the logical day to do it.

Today's prompt: "Close your eyes, turn your head to the side, and count to five. When you open your eyes, write about the first thing that comes into focus (for at least ten minutes)."-from writing.com's iPad app.

The dark blue Kia sat quietly in the parking lot outside the bank, its silvery undertone picking up the bright sunlight and scattering it in all directions. The polished chrome roof rack glinted a reflection onto the nearby office buildings, blinding at least a secretary or two. Its short rubber antenna jutted harshly up just above the rear hatchback, the stubby afterthought of a Hipster car designer that listens to all of his music on MP3 instead of the barbaric practice of pulling frequencies modulated through the atmosphere. While the unused roof rack spoke quietly to the world of outdoor adventure and trips across the Sunblessed warmth of the American plains, it was obvious that everything about this midget of a sport utility vehicle was put in place to cut its occupants off from the world around them. Tinted windows, climate control, suspension, and plush leather seats all intended to make your transition between location and destination as unnoticable as possible.

I was blessed to grow up in a time in our history when every trip in the car meant feeling the sights, smells, and character of each neighborhood you passed through on the way to your realitives house. If I was to lie down in the back seat, I could tell by each bump, turn and sound around us where we were in the city. Traveling was different then. Now, my kids largely ignore their surroundings, their faces buried in whatever technological contrivance they currently favor, their memories of the journey replaced by images of Spongebob and Minecraft.

CONtraflow 2 and the Fermi Paradox

This past weekend, I was a guest at CONtraflow here in New Orleans. (More specifically in Kenner, less than a mile from Casa Cerio) And had an absolute blast. The folks at CONtraflow really know how to throw a good, fun, literary convention.  I was on a number of panels, including one about my participation in the 48hr Film festival, and the ever-popular "Super Heroes and the Law" panel. The highlight of the con for me, however had to be the fantastic panel given by Author guest of honor Vernor Vinge, Tom Trumpinski, and NASA scientist Les Johnson about the Fermi Paradox. Mr Vinge, for those that don't know, is one of those guys that the government calls when they need a "Futurist", and to hear his ideas about it was facinating. Tom Trumpinski has written a lot about the subject, and Mr. Johnson's view on the topic from having worked with NASA just made for a killer panel about a subject I love hearing about.

For those that don't know what the heck I'm talking about, the story goes something like this... one day, a bunch of supergenius physicists were sitting around having lunch and discussing the possibility of alien life in our galaxy. One of them did some quick calculating and realized that with our current understanding of physics and engineering, it would take a Von Neumann style probe approximately 100 thousand years to completely explore our galaxy. At this point, Enrico Fermi said "Well, then where the hell are they?" His point being that if intelligent life is commonplace in the universe, then where are the aliens? Humanity has only been technologically aware for about 10,000 years, and capable of leaving the planet for a little over 50. Surely there must be more advanced civilizations out there by now, right? So where the heck are they?

The question quickly became known as Fermi's Paradox, and is a great subject that all science fiction authors ask one another from time to time, so I loved hearing the insights of men really qualified to discuss the subject. There have been dozens of suggestions as to why the Paradox exists, but I think that it really boils down to what are the top :

1) Intelligent life isn't as common as we think. Meaning that we may indeed be alone, at least in our galaxy. Les Johnson pointed to the fact that it was such a crazy string of events that led to humanity's rise as a technologically advanced species that it may be pretty unlikely that it happens elsewhere. Random asteroid wipes out the dinosaurs, big moon and system gas giant protect us from similar impacts, we develop opposable thumbs and the brains to use them... it is pretty amazing that we're here, when you think about it.

2) The distances are just too great. The nearest star is 4 light years away. The nearest star with anything interesting around it is at least 20 light years away. A light year is approximately six trillion miles, which means it would take our fastest forms of propulsion something like 200,000 years to get there. Those are numbers so large that it's really kind of impossible for the human mind to conceive of them. To put it in perspective, if the sun was a grain of sand on home plate of a baseball diamond, the earth would be somewhere between home plate and the pitchers mound. Dwarf planet Pluto would be somewhere around shortstop, and the nearest star (Alpha Centauri) would be something like the gas station three and a half miles down the road. Gliese 581 would be the McDonalds about 17 miles away (in a different direction). That's a long way to go for a cheeseburger, folks. I bitch to Silverfox when she makes me take the trash down to the dumpster.

3) We're under quarantine. This is my favorite, and I've actually played with this concept a bit in my short stories. It's entirely possible that there are aliens, and they view us as very dangerous creatures, or so different that we could pose a serious problem for them if we found out we weren't alone. I personally think that the aliens interviewed Betty and Barney Hill, and realized us for the war apes that we are. It's also been suggested that they may have a non-interference rule like the Federation Prime Directive.

4) We are the first. This is actually the saddest to me, because I think that the universe is a whole lot of wasted space if this is the case... But it also means that we need to make damn sure we stay around for a while.

Whatever the reasons, it's possible that we will never know the answer to Fermi's Paradox. We will either encounter extraterrestrials or not. It's still fun to consider the question, don't you think? If you'd like to discuss the fermi paradox further, please feel free to hit me up on Facebook!