The Wild Blog in the West

My sister loves Seinfeld .  I don't.  I don't get the brand of humor where people overreact to small incidents, usually incidents that aren't really that bothersome.  And yet, what does it say that I absolutely love movies that consist of people doing nothing but going crazy at small things? It goes without saying (but I'll say it anyway) that humor is highly subjective.  Reasons one person finds certain situations funny can be a complete mystery to someone else.  I can't fully explain why I'm such easy prey for the smart "stupid" movie, but I'm going to try. The smart "stupid" movie is usually part of the parody genre, which mocks movie trends and offers insights into the mindset of a specific era.  When done right, the smart "stupid" movie can leave you rolling on the floor with laughter, while also recognizing that the movie just gets it  somehow.  When done wrong, the smart "stupid" movie is just... stupid. ...

This is just a brief update.  Work has been grueling of late, I've been trying to write my one page per night, and damn those seasonal allergies.  Anyway, I thought it worth mentioning that I've put aside Bleak House  for now.  I was into it for a short while, but somewhere around the time the heroine met Mr. Jarndyce, or whatever his name, I stopped caring.  I'm not sure how many pages I am into the book... my Kindle tells me 8%.  I'll try again, really. Some observations: Dickens uses a mixture of styles that I had considered to be "modern" and hadn't really seen in other Victorian novels (though my catalogue is far from complete).  The first chapter begins almost like free-verse poetry, written by someone on crack: "As much mud in the streets as if the waters had but newly retired from the face of the earth, and it would not be wonderful to meet a Megalosaurus, forty feet long or so, waddling like an elephantine lizard up Holborn Hill." Bo...

It was so much easier to write long posts when I had more time off.  But anyway, to hit off January, here are some New Year's resolutions: 1.  To start sending query letters again for my novel , and to steel myself for the pain of many rejections... 2.  To write 300 words per day of my sequel novel.  So far easier said than done... I tend to get more writing done on weekends, and have close to 70 pages written. 3.  To make it through a whole episode of  Downton Abbey sober.  Rather difficult when you play drinking games based on certain show tendencies... 4.  To not throw things at the screen when I watch sports on television. 5.  To not throw things at the screen when I watch Mad Men 's likely unsatisfying conclusion, which is anything other than Don admitting his identity and surrendering himself to the police.  Though at this point, I would settle for Peggy getting a great promotion or starting her own agency.  She has...

Cute, plucky kid who went through some mighty  disturbing shit.   When I was a kid, for one year, I had a stalker.  I don't know how or why, just that an older man became interested in me and would call my house on a semi-regular basis.  When he got me on the phone, he would ask me questions in a very creepy voice that I still remember to this day.  He claimed to be a friend of my father's, yet when I gave the phone to my dad, he would inevitably get a dial tone.  One day it started and then one day, just as mysteriously, it stopped. And I didn't think about it again for years. Until recently, when I stopped to think just how fucked up that was.  Where were my parents?  I never answered the phone, so how did they just decide it was okay for an adult male to speak to their child?  My mom claims that she doesn't recall that sequence of events at all.  I recall as a kid feeling that something was wrong, but I couldn't understan...

"Well sure, lots of people dislike driving," you think. No, I hate driving. "Sure, lots of people hate traffic jams and speedsters and --" No, I hate driving .  Not just hate it, but fear it. Let me back up a little.  I don't hate all driving.  I actually enjoy driving to some extent, like on curving country back roads.  Driving across town?  No problem. It's when I need to drive long distances on the freeway that the hate and fear come in waves.  By long distances, I mean more than 20 miles. I can't fully explain where the hate/fear came from.  It arose not long after I first started driving, when I realized that 65 mph on the freeway was kind of fast!  It is probably mainly centered around issues of control: driving is one of the more dangerous activities in this country, and I really prefer keeping my risk of death or bodily injury low, thanks. Then there is the claustrophobia element: stuck in one car, one position, for possib...

Normally I provide one unpopular opinion and expound at length.  However, the unpopular opinions I have lately are on subjects that are not especially weighty.  That is not to say I couldn't find more to say about them at a future date.  But for now, I give you not one, but five randomly chosen unpopular opinions. 1.  Get off my lawn!   Usually when that expression is used, it is meant to paint the speaker as a crotchety, out-of-touch, inflexible nincompoop who hates the free-flowing awesomeness of young people.  Omigod, how dare this geezer resent young people romping on his lawn?  It's like he cares about respect for other people's possessions or something.  If you worked hard to maintain your property, or something equivalent, why shouldn't you resent the people who make light of, and ruin, your efforts?         2.  I can't stand Pixar's UP.   People treat this movie like it's the high watermark of cinema. ...

Still very busy and dealing with some big life changes, blah, blah, blah... That said, I've been meaning to write a blog post on how I do my research for my Victorian novel, if only because it's a vital part of my writing process, and I'm always interested to see how historical writers approach it. Many writers declare that research is their favorite part of the process and that writing comes second.  I feel the opposite.  I enjoy research and get excited when I discover new details, but for me, the story is the thing.  I want to harvest enough details to provide a realistic setting.  I don't want to wallow in research books for months on end; rather, research is like an itch that I need to scratch until it disappears. That said, providing a wholly believable setting for a historical story, especially if the story is broad in scope, can take quite a bit of research.  Reference texts, contemporary novels, newspapers, pamphlets, maps, you name it.  A...

The sunset was like a bright beam of orange spun cotton candy dancing on a fiery mound of... oh screw it. So description.... yeah... Even though I draw, my writing has always been weakest when I try to describe things.  Objects in a room.  A sunset.  Clothing.  Faces. Still, I didn't think that my description was that bad until I encountered the view that historical novels should immerse  you in the period, fully fleshing out the world to make you feel as if you were there.  See, for example,  The Crimson Petal and the White . I don't immerse.  I describe and move on.  Now and then, I'll mention a detail if I think it's important.  Or I might give a thorough description of a character if that character matters.  But I don't linger.  I rarely paint a scene. I never thought that lessened my readers' enjoyment, but maybe I've been depriving them.  Maybe I should take the time to really sketch out the surround...

This morning, I received a punch in the gut: one of my favorite websites would be going offline forever .  Yes, Television Without Pity, originating the phrase "spare the snark, spoil the network," will mark its last day on April 4th.  (The forums will remain open until May 31st, but that's cold comfort.) I've lost many Internet loves over the years, but Television Without Pity deserves a special mention.  It has been one of my go-to websites for at least 10 years.  I vaguely remember when it was called Mighty Big TV and run by two women, Sarah Bunting and Tara Ariano, instead of NBC Universal. NBC can be thanked for TWoP's demise.  In 2007, Bunting and Ariano sold the website to Bravo, which was part of the NBC Universal empire.  Recently, citing a drop in traffic, NBC tried to sell TWoP to another entity, but found no buyer.  Rather than try a different model, such as a subscription system, NBC decided to shut the doors. It's possible that s...

I had another post planned, but I doubt I could finish it before the night is out, so I thought I would just through together a handy-dandy list instead.  People love lists! So, without further ado, my list of scary things related (sometimes marginally) to Halloween... 1.  Scariest Movie.   Oh boy, that's hard to narrow down.  I'm a highly susceptible person who gets spooked very easily.  I was one of the kids who was freaked out by Return to Oz .  Large Marge in Pee Wee's Big Adventure scared the fuck out of me.  Even Ghostbusters  left me afraid to close my eyes.  So to this day, I have watched very few horror movies... yet somehow I really like reading synopses of horror movies.  Don't ask me why.   The Exorcist scared the crap out of me when I saw it, not because of pea soup head-spinning girl, but because of those random flashes of the devil (or whatever that was).  I could not stop thinking about them.  But I ...

My blog posts can often be on the cynical side, so I've decided to dedicate this one to some of the things that I appreciate.  In no particular order or category: 1.  Puppies!   All doggies really.  Actually, I'm an animal lover through and through, but I can't have cats due to allergies.  But there's just something so nice about doggies... they love you when you're sad, they just want to be near you, and the only things you need to give in return are food and some hugging/playing time. 2.  Professional Sports.  It can be painful when your professional sports teams are going through bad times, but when they're doing well, nothing is sweeter... 3.  Les Miserables.   No elaboration needed . 4.  Most Musicals, Really.   There's something energizing about them, so that even Just Okay musicals can perk me up.  Well, maybe not you, Rock of Ages .  There's something about the idea of just bursting into song and dance ...

Years ago, I enrolled in a class through the UCLA Film and Television Department.  The purpose was to come up with a strong pitch for our film or television concept.  It was a small group of maybe five or six people, and the instructor was a former content advisor at one of the major networks.  Why "former" I never thought to question. Within two weeks, it became clear that our instructor had very set ideas about "good" concepts.  We listened and followed his advice because he was the expert.  Then when we brought our changes to him the next week, instead of commenting on how well the changes worked, he found something new to criticize.  No problem.  We would just keep revising until we satisfied him. Except that it turned out "satisfying" him meant conforming to his vision.  If you had a different idea, you were destined for failure.  One student absorbed his vision readily -- he was an admirer who had taken previous classes with the i...

Oh whoops -- hey.  Didn't see you. Hello. You're one of those introverts, right?  You don't smile and you hate people? And a jolly good day to you, too, sir. Well you are, aren't you? Insofar as we are a "type," I guess so. So it's true you don't know how to be happy? False.  Introverts are as capable of happiness as anyone else. Then why does the media keep saying you're miserable? Probably because most of the media never look past the surface.  They see us standing by ourselves, not talking, and go "OMG, they must be sooooooo sad!1!1!1"  But the thing is, we're not sad by nature.  I like  spending time alone and not talking.  It makes me happy.  But somehow the media got it in their collective bubble head that if I'm not parading around drunk and topless on a homecoming float, if I'm not talking trash about my friends, my life choices are not worthy of attention, much less respect. Huh? You stopped l...

Say you were taking public transportation.  If you were in the middle of an activity, such as putting on cologne, makeup, or nail polish, and someone in the seat behind you said: "Excuse me, I'm sorry: your [insert activity] is causing me to have an allergic reaction," what would you do? In my case, my immediate response would be: "Oh, I'm so sorry!"  And I would promptly stop the activity.  Maybe afterward, I would wonder if my activity were really that bad, or if I should have really had to stop.  But my FIRST reaction would be: "Oh, I'm so SORRY."  Because I would understand that I was not in my own bathroom and that I was sharing this space with other people, and that other people could be affected by what I do.  Even when I'm in a shitty mood, I am mindful of this. Not an actual representation of my train.  This one is much, much nicer. So this morning, I was sitting behind a man and a woman on the BART train into San Franc...