Real Candy

"I have run out of ideas," Jennifer declared as she landed cat-like on the couch and glared out the window at the damp forest. She tossed her strawberry-blond hair and cast an appraising glance at her larger sister who was absorbed in a large book.
"Hey, I need ideas!" Jennifer tried again.
"Yes, yes," Susy murmured absently as she turned the page.
"I just fed your first edition "Have Spacesuit Will Travel" to the goat," Jennifer deadpanned. 
"That's nice."
There was silence for a few beats before Susy's face twitched and then contorted as if some unpleasant taste had reached her mouth.
"Wait," she finally raised her eyes from the book to the smirking strawberry blond, "you did what?"
"I need information," Jennifer interrupted quickly. "I have run out of good Christmas present ideas-"
"Christmas isn't for a month, now what did you say about-"
"So I am getting everyone candy. Unimaginative, I know, but people will like it nevertheless. So tell me what kind you like best."
"The goat? My book?" Susy eyed her skeptically but didn't seem inclined to let the issue drop. 
"I was joking," Jennifer huffed and punched her in the shoulder. "What candy?"
Her sister stared blankly for a few more moments then shook her head with a sigh.
"Candy corn."
Jennifer returned the blank look before bursting out into laughter. "No really. What kind of candy do you want for Christmas."
"Candy corn," Susy repeated patiently. 
"You're serious?" Jennifer demanded. 
"Yes, candy corn."
"I can't get you candy corn for Christmas!" Jennifer burst out in exasperation. "Pick something else."
"Why," Susy asked in confusion. "I like candy corn. It is my favorite candy that I am not allergic to."
"It is cheap!" Jennifer exclaimed.
Susy stared at her with a frown. "So? I like it. Why would that matter?"
"Never mind," Jennifer said with a sigh. "I'll just pick myself."
Susy watched her sister stomp off with a deep sense of confusion. 


Yesterday was national candy corn day....yup. No I didn't know it existed until Twitter told me either. So in honor here is a short (mostly true) story.  And the picture links to a much tastier treat still in tune with the season. 

I don't know if it is anything close to everyone but I certainly have several cringe worthy memories of books that I miss-handled. 

• My favorite Sci-fi pulp of all time that just flat out disappeared. (I think it was stolen by a cousin.)
• The manga that apparently my neighbor's german shepherd liked more than I did.
• The fantasy novel that proved my backpack was not in fact water resistant. 
• The book with the glossy pictures that did not survive my little sister's collage making phase.  
• And how many were lost to the bath I can't remember....

So how many of you have memorably lost a good (or bad) book? 

Did you ever wonder why we organize books (all writing really) into "fiction" and 'non-fiction"? Why is not factual storytelling considered the normative? 

When I got started writing fiction I was in an interesting place as a writer. I was two years out of University and had been working in the biology field for three years. Now I had written a lot of reports by that time; weekly task updates, presentations for student groups, and end of season technical reports. All of this had one thing in common. There were all academic style writing. Three different forms, but all were highly structured and governed by immutable rules. There was almost no scope for imagination at all. I knew what each was going to say and was basically filling in the appropriate numbers and proper nouns in a blank form. This was not writing. I tried to write a story on a whim and found that my real writing skills had deteriorated to the point that I would have been ashamed to show it to a third grade teacher. 
I am apparently not the only one who has become a bit disillusioned with this academic writing style. Granted it is a bit different in science work where you have to use words with ten and fifteen syllables on a regular basis and have to be painstakingly precise about every detail but the rest of academia might be served well by allowing a bit more wriggle room. The Atlantic published an article exploring this in depth and provided this little gem:

The work of the text is to literalize the signifiers of the first encounter, dismantling the ideal as an idol. In this literalization, the idolatrous deception of the first moment becomes readable. The ideal will reveal itself to be an idol. Step by step, the ideal is pursued by a devouring doppelganger, tearing apart all transcendence. This de-idealization follows the path of reification, or, to invoke Augustine, the path of carnalization of the spiritual. Rhetorically, this is effected through literalization. A Sentimental Education does little more than elaborate the progressive literalization of the Annunciation.

Though all the words are spelled correctly most of even the high end spell checkers don't even recognize some of them. Maybe some of those "Piled Higher and Deeper" folks need to tone it down a bit. 

I can't say I remember the first book I ever read. It was well before I was five years old, probably some simple picture book with a sentence or two on each page. I do remember a counting book with a puppy, a yellow book about a lion that had one page of small words in large font for me to read and one of large words in small font for the parents. I remember picking up Nancy Drew and the odd, thick paperbacks whose bright covers my sister hid behind a cloth cover and finding them both boring beyond words. There were Sesame Street books (remember the ones with the yellow covers and the alphabet on both inner covers?) But all of that was only how I mastered the skills. I read them because I knew that reading was a good thing, so as boring as I found the books at that time I kept plugging away at them through my sixth and into my seventh year. See, it was not *a* book that inspired to to master the art....it was books.
It was the scattered piles of histories and biographies that Daddy left around with pictures of stern warriors and battleships on the covers. It was how no matter how bone tired he was he would always find time for them after work and after us. 
It was the shiney science fiction novels that made Mommy's eyes light with excitement. Mommy, who "Wasn't really a reader," but who would dig into a book as thick as a brick and come out with tales of blue skinned princes and ships that spoke.
It was the hidden piles of lurid romance novels and dark Stephen King stories that were the only force on earth that could make my ADD ADHD poster child sister sit still for any length of time. 
Some power gripped them all and I couldn't understand it, but dangnabbit I was going to figure it out! Finally I found my niche; talking animal stories, and I understood. But their fascination was the bait that kept me trying. 

The year was 2004, summer was just beginning to edge into fall, and an eager young high-school graduate was checking the mail box. Sure enough there was a bright glossy pamphlet from the University that had recently accepted her. This bit of wisdom was a list of important things to bring with her into her new life. and there at the bottom...a coloring book? "Don't laugh," admonished the pamphlet. "You will thank us after finals week when you want to do nothing but curl up in a corner and cry. Coloring is very therapeutic."

 It is the dream of every author. Possibly a pipe dream, but it is there. What if my book makes the best seller list? Even scraping in at tenth or fifteenth place is a symbol of having made it. But what kind of books make those short and accomplished lists that show up on Amazon and the New York Time? There are gripping science fiction tales, true survival stories, heart-rending emotional journeys, and ... coloring books? 

Back in the early oughts the concept was simply something understood by folks who babysat. Coloring books were fun and relaxing and not just for kids. It was a habit I carried with me from college into my work life. I colored and shared with co-workers and unbeknownst to me the concept was spreading like a smouldering wildfire along the floor of a well managed conifer forest. Slowly, steadily, and without much noise or fuss. Now adult coloring books sit proudly at the top of several bestseller lists along with the murder mystery de jure. Popular and not well understood.

That is until some eager grad student took note and decided to put this bit of fun under the proverbial microscope. According to Dr. Stan Rodski coloring books provide therapeutic value that is almost on par with formal meditation. (Surprisingly he has his own line of coloring books).

As most everyone in the writing community knows NaNoWriMo is fast approaching. For those that don't that is the (rather odd) acronym of sorts for National Novel Writing Month. The goal is to sit down and actually write 50,000 words on the novel you are working on. Thouh non-fiction works are acceptable as well. It is a national effort with chapters in nearly every town of any real size and online chat groups galore. 
What I find the most useful is the support network and the accountability. It makes it much easier to focus on writing and for just a month to leave off the constant presence of all the other work needed to get your books out there. 
What do you like about NaNoWriMo? 

Human beings (it is nearly universally agreed) can only travel in one direction through the fourth dimension. However imagination has been pulling us back and forward through said dimension for generations. From the famous "The Time Machine"  to an exasperated Doctor explaining that time is not a line but a "wibbily-wobbly timey-wiemy thing" the concept of being able to escape our slow and inevitable track along the fourth dimension has captivated both science and science fiction alike. Of course back in the  80's this gave rise to the "Back to the Future" series which postulated time travel to the past, then a few years later to the far distant future of 2015. So here we are. Hoverboards are limping along in their infancy but they are here. Flying car are also available but too impractical for common use. Meanwhile "Jaws" does indeed have a 3-D version available.  So #Backtothefuture and here's to writers producing more and better time travel stories in the future. 

• The voices in my head make me do it.
• I want to be immortal and can't do mad science.
• Because otherwise it's illegal to kill people.

If you ask someone why they write you will no doubt get a lot of different answers: from the pragmatic (It puts the biscuits on the table.) to the quixotic (Those dragons won't slay themselves.) to the downright creepy (I worked so hard revising my suicide note as a teenager that I decided I liked that better than the follow through.).
Well the internet asked the question today and the answers were....well here just meander on over to twitter for yourself and take a gander. Also follow me on twitter!