Tuesday's Overlooked A/V: Thirst & Linear Obsessional Recordings

A bit of news first: my story that asks the question "what if Christopher Marlowe wrote like an Elizabethan Hunter S. Thompson?"AKA "Fear and Loathing in Deptford," is featured at the World SF Blog. World SF is dedicated to posting links, news and original content related to science fiction, fantasy, horror and comics from around the world, so check them out for a wide variety of tales you won't see elsewhere.

THIRST: I'm slowly catching up on my Korean horror films. I am fond of Park's films and glad to have finally seen this one. It was part of the vampire run on Film 4 this past week. I'd seen just about everything else, so this was a nice surprise. In Thirst Kang-ho Song plays a priest who inadvertently becomes a vampire in his attempt to try to heal. He's driven to try to rescue the beaten-down Tae-ju, but saving the damsel in distress turns out to be a lot more complicated than he anticipates. Ok-bin Kim gives the orphaned outsider bride a mercurial character that reflects the deprivations of her marginalised life and her greed for excess that cannot be quenched. A very entertaining take on the vampire mythos.




LINEAR OBSESSIONAL RECORDINGS: Social networking brings you into contact with unexpected delights. Facebook connections brought me to Linear Obsessional Recordings and their coalition of experimental musicians. You'll find everything from a deconstruction of J. G Ballard's "The Atrocity Exhibit" to music for barges to found sounds as well as collages of loops and various improvisations. If you enjoy experimental work and ambient sounds, you'll find plenty to interest you there. You can stream all the music and download many for free (donations also accepted) -- some you can even remix as they're under a Creative Commons license. I spent all day yesterday listening to their recordings while writing. Good stuff. A lot to enjoy here.

Support indie music!

Love and Theft

"I'm not quite as cool or forgiving as I sound..."

 "Floater" by Bob Dylan

I'll have some lovely photos from the trip to Connemara up soon, but there's something else I need to deal with first. This week has been a head shaking one in several ways that's ended up leaving me with a couple fewer publications than I had before.

However, before I get to that, a digression. Those of you who have experienced me teaching know my proclivity for doing that. I blame Beowulf: chock full of digressions. Like that great poem, however, my digressions have a point. Think of it as a parable and then a lesson if you like.

The other day on Facebook I shared Jim Jarmusch's quote that I love and have used before. It came in a nice graphic form, so I'll share it here, too.

I always say that becoming a medievalist saved me from the terror of "originality" -- because there's nothing like studying a thousand years of literature to show you without a doubt that every story has been told before. My creative writing students who find this revelation deflating I give the reassurance, "But no one has told your version." If I'd been paying more attention, I would have learned the lesson from Shakespeare. The bard's stories are not "original" -- looted from various sources from Ovid to histories to contemporary events. Yet no one told the tales as he did; that's why we still read him with such pleasure.

We need to recognize that we stand on the shoulders of giants; pretending that you have no influences is simply ignorance. The arrogance of believing that you can create anything without those myriad voices in your head, sights in your eyes, sounds in your ears, shapes in your hands is an illusion. The "stealing" Jarmusch refers to here is not a mindless copying of another's work but an appropriation of elements that resonate through your soul. Because once you've placed your stolen object in a new location, it transforms.

Bob Dylan is a master of this. Love and Theft offers a lot of "thefts" -- something Dylan's always been conscious of doing. His title comes from Eric Lott's book Love & Theft: Blackface Minstrelsy and the American Working Class. The album features what Greg Kot in the Chicago Tribune described as:

"The kind of twisted, instantly memorable characters one meets in John Ford's westerns, Jack Kerouac's road novels, but, most of all, in the blues and country songs of the 1920s, '30s and '40s. This is a tour of American music—jump blues, slow blues, rockabilly, Tin Pan Alley ballads, country swing—that evokes the sprawl, fatalism and subversive humor of Dylan's sacred text, Harry Smith's Anthology of American Folk Music, the pre-rock voicings of Hank Williams, Charley Patton and Johnnie Ray, among others, and the ultradry humor of Groucho Marx."

A fine list of looted treasures. What makes his work a success is not who he steals from, but what he does with the stolen goods. In my own small way, I've stolen from Dylan, too. My story "Tangled Up in Some Sort of Cerulean Hue" took Dylan's "Tangled Up in Blue" and mashed it up with Christopher Marlowe's Doctor Faustus and then just played around. My forthcoming novel Owl Stretching stole  its sadly funny tone from Kurt Vonnegut and stole as well as from William Blake (for all the quotes Ro gets wrong)  and The Descent of Inanna. I steal from everywhere; things collide in my head that would not collide the same way in anyone else's head. I run with those collisions and make something the original creators never intended and would not recognise. That's what Jarmusch means.

Witless theft, on the other hand, stealing without respect or transformation, is a crime not only in the legal sense, but to the spirit of creativity as well. Stealing someone else's work and passing it off as your own, you commit a shabby crime and a lazy one as well. In the digital realm, it's also easy to uncover. I've removed my two stories from Trestle Press for this kind of theft: cover art images, not words this time. I first got a tip off from Mr B and he has already found a new home for the Drunk on the Moon stories (well done!). I don't know what I'll do with "Mandrake and Magpies" yet. I'll think of something.

You can read other authors' (more timely) accounts of the revelations and fallout like Julia Madeleine's, Luca Veste's and BR Statetham's and they'll lead you to many more. I feel bad for the first time writers who received a painful lesson in the crazy world of publishing. After you've been through the folding magazine phenomenon and fly-by-night publishers you find it easier to shrug off the inevitable Dickensian Grubb Street betrayal. Swearing a lot helps at first, but then you just get back to writing -- it's what you need to do.

Publications: High Plains Lazarus / Fear and Loathing in Deptford

I'm pleased to let you know that the zombie anthology, Rotting Tales, is now available from Pill Hill Press and it features my short story "High Plains Lazarus" -- obviously influenced by spaghetti Westerns as well as Joe R. Lansdale his own self, but with a mystical twist.

The book will be available on Amazon soon, but until Thanksgiving, Pill Hill will be selling the collection for a discounted rate of $15.49 so if you're thinking of picking it up, that's a great reason.

The story has a funny history, having been written at the last minute as I headed off to Trinoc-con one year and hated everything I'd ever written (it happens) and so started writing something just for fun. It was a big hit, with one exception: I'd only got half the story written. People were ready to kill me for stopping in the middle, but that's all I had. I finished (and read the rest the following year at Trinoc-con) and sold it to an anthology, who then proceeded to slowly reel out the days while contributors waited, and waited, and were reassured that it was coming, it was coming -- and then after two years, they just stopped responding. Sigh. Unfortunately, that's the life of small publishers. I'm glad it's got a home at last.

Over at the Women's League of Ale Drinkers, where the first issue of the journal is available for a mere 99¢ (such a bargain!), you can get the lowdown this week on our design director, Stephanie Johnson AKA the Queen of Everything, editor Vicky Squid and, er, me. We'll be getting to know many of the contributors to the first issue throughout the month. Enjoy!

WLoAD #1 and a Book Trailer Review

Hey kids, get yourself a fine publication for just 99¢! Yes, it's the inaugural issue of the Women's League of Ale Drinkers journal featuring some wonderful art by pal Stephanie Johnson (who designed the whole issue) and a whole lot more -- like my long unplaceable story, "Fear and Loathing in Deptford," in which I imagine how Christopher Marlowe's last night might be if he wrote in the style of Hunter S. Thompson (albeit with Elizabethan sensibilities). I got lots of compliments on the story from editors who nonetheless did not buy it because it was too this or too that (too obscure, too much strange vocabulary, and -- oh no! -- even some Latin!). Check out the table of contents for more delights including some familiar names.

My book trailer for Pelzmantel received a review over at 1st Turning. I'm learning a lot from people's comments -- things that never occurred to me. It's hard when you know the story inside out to think about how to introduce it to someone unfamiliar with it. Feel free to add your comments as well. I need all the feedback I can get as I'm starting to think about the trailer for The Mangrove Legacy: whatever will that have?

Happy Birthday, Kit!

Happy Birthday, Marlowe, the voice that launched a thousand riffs. I seem to always be looting from him, whether it's something like my short story "Fear and Loathing in Deptford" or random bits from passages like this one (part of which just ended up in my latest novel [first draft creeping toward its end, hurrah]). Sic semper geniis, eh?

I must have wanton poets, pleasant wits,
Musicians, that with touching of a string
May draw the pliant King which way I please.
Music and poetry is his delight;
Therefore I'll have Italian masks by night,
Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows;
And in the day, when he shall walk abroad,
Like sylvan nymphs my pages shall be clad;
My men, like satyrs grazing on the lawns,
Shall with their goat feet dance the antic hay.
Sometime a lovely boy in Dian's shape,
With hair that gilds the water as it glides,
Crownets of pearl about his naked arms,
And in his sportful hands an olive tree,
To hide those parts which men delight to see,
Shall bathe him in a spring; and there, hard by,
One like Actæon, peeping through the grove,
Shall by the angry goddess be transformed,
And running in the likeness of an hart,
By yelping hounds pulled down, shall seem to die:
Such things as these best please his majesty...

Publication: Oops

It's not like me to miss a publication, but I have done. My story "Tangled Up in Some Sort of Cerulean Hue" appeared in volume 3 of Ephemera in December (pp 49-52). It's a mash up of not quite Dylan lyrics from Blood on the Tracks (obviously stealing its title from the first track) with Marlowe's Doctor Faustus. It's best to listen to the album first, see a production of the play, then read the story.

If you don't have that much time, just read the story.

If you can find it -- it's a small press lit mag put out by students here, which means I only came across it by chance because there was a copy lying on the table in one of the other department buildings where I had a meeting this morning. I picked it up, a faint bell ringing in my head. Oh yeah -- that story. I had written the story originally for the Bayou Review, but then we moved up here and I submitted it here instead.

Then I immediately forgot about it. It's a nice way to be reminded, I must say. Of course, this means it will be difficult to get hold of, so if you want a copy let me know and I'll see what I can do.