North! Or Be Eaten

For this month's CSFF tour, we're highlighting the book North! Or Be Eaten by Andrew Peterson. It's part of a series of books called The Wingfeather Saga and you should check them both out. Since I've noticed most people have a distinct aversion to being eaten, the book promises to be thrilling and chilling. Find someone in the target YA audience and get them this book.

Here's the rest of the tour:
Brandon Barr
Justin Boyer
Amy Browning
CSFF Blog Tour
Stacey Dale
April Erwin
Todd Michael Greene
Ryan Heart
Timothy Hicks
Becky Jesse
Cris Jesse
Jason Joyner
Julie
Carol Keen
Krystine Kercher
Dawn King
Rebecca LuElla Miller
New Authors Fellowship
Nissa
Donita K. Paul
Crista Richey
Chawna Schroeder
Andrea Schultz
James Somers
Steve and Andrew
Rachel Starr Thomson
Robert Treskillard
Fred Warren
Jason Waguespac
Phyllis Wheeler
Elizabeth Williams
KM Wilsher

Rage Done Right

Rape, murder, treachery, incest, cannibalism, blood... Ah, those wacky Greeks. Last night I took Wife Number One and Only to see Electra by the Seattle Shakespeare Company. It's part of their expanded season that includes a classical play by someone other than The Bard. Seattle Shakes continues to impress, racking up another winner here that you really should go see.

There were many highlights which all combined to produce one pretty intense experience. Doors open, walk through a vestibule to get to the theatre, and there in an alcove of plain white sits Electra with her back to us watching black and white home movies of her father playing with them as children. Eerie, soulful, and introductory of the mood we're about to be immersed in, the small room is like a padded cell and Electra wears simple white clothing, not bright and gay but dingy and worn.

The stage is grey and harsh, starkly lit by cheap bare bulbs. It's then that you notice a lack of color and vibrancy anywhere. When Darragh Kennan enters as Orestes you again see that everyone is in grey and white. As the story unfolds, you start to realize that color is being saved until the end. And with a play like this, you know the color will be red.

It isn't long before Marya Sea Kaminski as Electra reaches out and grabs you with mourning that seems so raw, you feel you shouldn't be looking at it. Her performance then turns into the rage of a daughter bereft of her father and forced to live with the killers. She surges into a screaming, spittle flying rage that continues to crash into you like an angry sea pounding at a rocky shore.

Add to that the emotional performance of Susannah Millonzi as Chrysothemis, Electra's sister. She plays the part as a simple woman, trodden down and abused yet still hanging on to a thread of innocent cheer like a beaten puppy. She provides the single most emotional moment of the evening when told that the beloved brother she's been waiting for to return has actually died. She begins screaming out "No! No! No! No! NO!" while stamping her feet and trying not to believe it. It's the kind of moment that reaches inside you and pulls tears out of places you don't like to visit.

Then we reach the part of the play where a lot of red is seen. Electra's murdering mother dies backstage at the hands (and axe) of Orestes. Orestes and his accomplice return center stage smeared with so much blood it's dripping off them. A little later the body is revealed and the blood was poured all over the very nice actress who played a very mean mother. But of course we know: Too much is never enough. The murdering new husband shows up and is taken backstage to be axed. Blood begins flowing down the previously white curtain behind the doorway and Electra's revenge is complete.

This show, my friends, is rage done right.

The Maybey Story

A couple of years ago I started a story called "Claws From the Grave of Delta Maybey." Other than a vague idea of setting, probably inspired by the lonely and dark Halloween night around me, I had no idea what to do with it. Well, since I'm between writing projects at the moment I decided to read it over and see what I could make of it. I still like the mood and writing style that I developed and I've added a few hundred more words to it. A full idea has coalesced in my mind and although it smacks of a deal with the devil story, which by all accounts is overdone, I think I can turn it into something that will be cool to read. Also, it should end up being shorter than my latest projects, which tend to become novella in size. It is a departure from the sword and sorcery I had settled into over the last five years or so and that is a good thing. While I am fond of saying 'too much is never enough', the reality is that I know I need to expand a bit. Staying still means you're going backward.

Thunder Canyon Misses the Top Spot

Well, fourteenth place in the Preditors & Editors Readers Poll isn't bad, considering it's my first appearance there and all. Of course, with all the tied vote tallies it's more like 23rd or something but as we all know: it's nice just to be nominated.

Avatar: Something For Everyone To Hate

It's amazing who's lining up to criticize this movie, which is shaping up to be the best movie everybody hates. We've heard about the left calling it racist and the right calling it anti-capitalism and anti-military. Anti-smoking groups decry one of the characters for lighting up. Now the Vatican says it leads people towards pagan nature worship. All I've got to say is, since I'm going to see it for a second time (in IMAX3D baby!) next week, if everybody can find something to hate in your movie... you must be doing something right.

Things You Love to Hear the Three Year Old Say While Sitting at the Computer (If You're a Little Twisted)

"Die, you zombies!"

Vote For Pedro

No, actually you should be voting for me in the Preditors & Editors Readers Poll. "Thunder Canyon" has been nominated for Best SF&F Short Story, along with a whole bunch of other stories that while equally great are not equally deserving. If you are so inclined, go to the proper website and scroll down for a little while until you find "Thunder Canyon." Click on it and fill out your info in the actually completely harmless boxes. Then remember to answer the confirmation email, which is the last you will ever receive on the matter, and I will thank you for it.

The Top Ten Reasons 2009 Sucked

Even though Top Ten lists have been scientifically proven to be complete B.S., here is why this last year totally sucked.

10. I had to admit that Daughtry is really good.

9. Despite being thankful to still have a job, the bonuses that make up a considerable part of my compensation package have taken a significant decline.

8. The Wii is broken.

7. I've abandoned more writing projects than I've sold.

6. I haven't spoken to my Dad all year for no reason other than we're both apparently pretty darn lazy.

5. I'm on cholesterol medication number three and I can't tolerate the side effects of it either.

4. I couldn't quite think up enough tidbits from this year to even describe ten ways it sucked.

3. I had a chance to go to Thailand with the Marines but blew it because no one told me I needed a passport until I showed up to get my plane ticket.

2. See Number Four.

1. I lived to regret saying, "If an Obama presidency is the price we have to pay to put the final nail in the coffin of the Clinton Legacy, I can accept that."

If You Love Star Wars AND Star Trek...

This is then equally funny and thrilling.

Two Good Things

First, my religious historical story has found a home with the new anthology by Residential Aliens creator Lyn Perry. "Such Great Faith" will appear next year in While the Morning Stars Sing. This news made me walk around the house for most of last evening with a mildly pleasant grin on my face. (That's a big deal.)

Second, Rage of the Behemoth got another great review by James Maxey over at IGMS that you should check out. If you haven't gotten your copy yet, shame on you.

Writing Lessons From Miserability

While 'miserability' might not be a word, I've re-learned a writing lesson during the crafting of my current dragon story. The first encounter with the dragon went relatively well for the heroes and, after some ominous foreshadowing, they went about their business towards the middle of the story. After a couple of stabs at setting up the middle, I realized my problem was that everything was all sunshine and lollipops for them, with nothing really driving the action to the climax. Even though it meant I had to chuck a major idea that would have been part of the middle, I had to ramp up the tension by changing the end of the previous scene and making their situation a little (and by 'little' I mean 'lot') more difficult. With my characters suitably miserable, the middle is cracking along with some drive and drama. Sucks to be them. But after all, that's what they get paid for.

Thespians Come In All Shapes and Sizes

First, Daughter Number One had her theatrical debut in a children's musical this morning. As one of King Herod's courtiers, she joined the rest of the chorus in singing about the wise men and their journey to witness the birth of our Lord and Savior. Great fun.

Second, Son Number Three has been watching all of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies for the last few days. Now he is convinced he is Captain Jack Sparrow, complete with pirate sword and pseudo British accent. (He's better with the accent than with the sword, and I've got the bruises to prove it.)

Third, Son Number Two has discovered that if he pretends to be asleep long enough, we'll stop badgering him to come and join us in whatever family outing we've planned and he's protested.

So you see, all the world is but a stage, and we are merely actors playing our parts.

Twelfth Night, or As You Will

Seattle Shakespeare Company has put together one of the best performances of the Bard’s inventory that I have ever seen. Twelfth Night, or As You Will is absolutely fantastic. In fact, it is likely only second to their own production of The Taming of the Shrew. (Set in a Texas trailer park, that play was so good it is unfair to use it as a yardstick for anything shy of Biblical revelation.)

The festivities began with the actors caroling, leading us in song, (cleverly, we were set up as a punch line for later in the performance) and a drama class warm up exercise that eased us all into a comfortable matinee. While Wikipedia assures me that this is a standard pre-play tactic used by Twelfth Night directors across the fruited plain, I had never seen it done before and even managed to enjoy it.

The improbable fiction then unfolded before us with Viola’s eerie entrance and we were off and running. Several items throughout the production need to be highlighted. Visually, the best moment was the very close of the first act. Curio and Valentine, played by Sean Patrick Taylor and Carter Rodriquez, have a ‘dueling banjos’ face off with the guitars that they had been plucking on throughout the afternoon. When they reached the crescendo of their duel, they both looked up at the stage lights and blew them out, with a little help from a perfectly timed fader in the tech booth.

The surprise of the day had to come from John Bogar’s completely over the top portrayal of Malvolio, whose stodgy and proper ways crumble to reveal the lunacy of true love. It is a joy to watch an actor so give himself over to a role that all shame and self consciousness disappear like the thin vapor of decorum that we each cling to, fearing one great gust of wind to reveal us for what we are. Not only that, but his operatic singing voice was staggeringly good. I mean breath takingly, room shakingly, Simon Cowell can kiss my buttingly good. Other notables included the Fool, played by Chris Ensweiler as a mish-mash of Jew and gypsy and Bohemian Port Townsend street peddler, who, as is always the case, was the wisest one on stage. His rendition of ‘heigh-ho, the wind and the rain’ began to delve into theatrical magic to end the show. Sir Toby and Sir Andrew, played to comedic perfection by Ray Gonzalez and Darragh Kennan, were some of the best drunken sots I’ve ever seen. (And I’ve been 22 years in the Marine Corps. I’ve seen some drunken sots.)

The funniest part of the play came from the sword fight between Viola and Sir Andrew. Each character, convinced that the other is a master swordsman whereas they need simple direction like ‘Front Toward Enemy’ to even pick up a blade, face each other with a hesitancy that is drawn out to its full effect… and then one step beyond. Curio, who was lurking, just visible, behind the set would wait for them to raise steel and then dramatically strum on his guitar like the soundtrack to a Clint Eastwood spaghetti western. Each time he did it the characters would pause and crane their necks to figure out where the music was coming from. Comedy gold.

But the best thing about the performance, by far and away, without question or debate, was Susannah Millonzi. She played Viola with a deftness and subtlety that leave me searching for words I don’t often use, like ‘enchanted’ and ‘enraptured.’ (Like I said, I’ve been 22 years in the Marine Corps. I don’t get enchanted a whole lot.) Her believability came through in every quirk of the eyebrow, every twitch of the fingertip, and every slip of the smile that went from adoration to despair to resolution in the same fleeting instant. It was as if no filter existed between mind and body and she had absorbed Viola’s cause as her own. Whether it was comedy, as in the above crossing of swords, or passion, as she looked upon the unaware Duke Orsino, she was quite simply captivating, in every physical and spiritual aspect that word can be used in. As a matter of fact, she played this part so perfectly that she must forevermore stand like Alexander on the Asian seacoast, weeping for there are no more worlds to conquer.

This is the best Shakespeare you can see on the entire West Coast. (And I can say that because I’ve been to Ashland.) Seattle Shakespeare Company in general, and this production in particular, gets my highest possible rating, given only to those few, those happy few, who over the years have impressed me beyond my already high expectations: They know what the hell they’re doing.

Daggers, Duplicity, and Dragons

Here's a quick update on my latest writing project which will probably be called something like 'Cold Valley' or 'The Valley Deep and Low'. I'm at 2000 words and counting. As always, I have no idea where it will end up. Set in the mid 7th century amongst the clashing cultures in the southwest corner of Anglo-Saxon Britain, it involves a travelling Welsh dragon slayer, some frightened villagers, Christian missionaries, Celtic sorcerers, dark and spooky settings, human sacrifice, some violence... and a dragon.