#204: Sculpture Garden
Canberra’s National Gallery was built by orcs. It is designed to confuse and infuriate. Much as I generally like at least some of the art, I spend every visit to the National Gallery in a state of disoriented confusion due to the strange permutations of the building’s many and winding concrete corridors.
My favourite part of the gallery is outside – the sculpture garden, set amongst flourishing trees and shrubs and grass beside Lake Ginninderra. I wrote about it (for money! Yay!) here.
Today is the last day of September, so here’s your last “Killer Robot Cat” tale. I call it: “Peace in our time?” because Ana’s opiates made her so sleepy that (for once) she didn’t hassle Indah (the grey one, who is 13) and they were able, briefly, to get along. Yay for drugs.
Tomorrow, as the “Zeppelin Jack and the Deadly Dueller” twittertale begins, I’ll also be launching Steampunk Earth Day for Saturday October 30. It’s a lot like Earth Hour, but with more options and better outfits.
More data tomorrow!
#135: Bad Movie Night
Oh dear. Oh dear. Oh dear.
It was bad. I knew it would be bad and it was. But I didn’t know it would be THAT bad.
There are spoilers here, but don’t worry – you won’t care.
We kicked off the day with “Robot Monster”. I just went to check the release date (1953) and found this review on IMDB, which says it all:
“Robot Monster is the Citizen Kane of abysmal 1950s science fiction. It has everything modern viewers have come to expect from movies of this genre: a laughable plot line, completely improbable situations, ludicrous acting, unbelievably awful special effects, cheapjack production values, gaffes galore, and examples of how to fail miserably at every major aspect of motion picture production. For good measure it also sports easily the most ridiculous “monster” in the history of film! The plot is so thin that it can’t even be stretched comfortably over the film’s 66-minute running time without generous padding. A family, headed by the requisite German-accented scientist and including a “hot” chick, a “manly” guy, and two cutesy-poo kids wander through the desert after Earth has been annihilated by a guy in a gorilla suit wearing a plastic diving helmet.”
The film was so bad the director attempted suicide shortly after its release. The baddie is, quite literally, a man in a gorilla suit with a diving helmet. He is assisted by an incredibly ominous bubble machine. With this (presumed) weapon, he has already killed all but eight members of the human race. Later on, he strangles both of the cutesie-poo kids, throws the hot guy off a cliff, and attempts to romance the beautiful woman (which is actually sooooo creeepy).
Here are some quotes:
From ro-man’s boss, as he attempts to explain the “funny feeling” the hot chick gives him: “You sound like a hu-man, not a ro-man!”
From the hot guy to the hot girl (because they are having Relationship Difficulties – the type that gets resolved by Earth’s annihilation): “I’m bossy!? You’re so bossy you should be milked before you come home.”
When the hot girl wants to save the world by meeting ro-man for a date (shortly before her dad and boyfriend tie her up): “I know there’s some things good girls just don’t do, but. . .” (Side note: later, ro-man ties her up – presumably to make her feel at home on their date.)
From little miss cutesie-poo just before her death by strangulation (it’s worth noting that ro-man is VERY easy to outrun): “My daddy wouldn’t let you hurt me.” (Side note: Her daddy just (a) let her wander out of their impenetrable fortress (b) to deliver flowers to the young couple as they walk off the celebrate their honeymoon. . . alone, except for ro-man.)
At one stage, the young couple are a-wandering and ro-man appears (oh no!) Instead of both running away, the hot guy picks her up and runs away carrying her. Because good girls (apparently) don’t run. (Or walk quickly.)
After the hot girl is captured, the parents use their remaining child as bait (fyi, he dies). Meanwhile, ro-man attempts to date the hot girl while intercepting phone calls from his boss and the other humans (don’t you hate getting phone calls at innappropriate moments?)
Eventually his boss gets annoyed and releases dinosaurs (which pay no attention to any humans, but attack each other).
And then. . . ta da! It was all a dream!
OR WAS IT???????
The final shot is a shadowy ro-man emerging from his cave.
They liked that shot so much they played it three times – just in case someone missed it the first two times.
For our next film, we watched the 2008 film “Birdemic”.
Yep, that’s the title.
Yep, 2008.
Perhaps the most succinct summary of everything that’s wrong with this film is the tagline: “Why did the birds and eagles attacked?”
1. Birds are eagles.
2. The “attacked” tells us that sometimes, speaking English as a second language really DOESN’T mean that you’ll write the greatest screenplay ever.
3. This whole tagline is a question the filmmakers are begging us to answer after we have seen their opus. The answer (as you’ll pick up twenty or thirty times during the film) is, “Because humans freakin’ deserve it for not looking after our planet.” And perhaps we do deserve to have our throats artfully ripped out by extremely slow-moving cardboard eagles.
But we don’t deserve this film.
The one thing the tagline lacks is some indication of the acting skills demonstrated in the movie, the special effects, and the writer’s odd software engineer fantasy. Believe it or not, the acting is worse in “Birdemic” than in “Robot Monster”. And so are the special effects. I know, I know: you don’t believe me. But don’t worry – it’s all right here:
And guess what? There’s talk of a sequel.
You can’t imagine the pain of the experience of (a) The extremely long lead-up to the first attack, during which time a lot of space is given to software engineers making millions, dating models, and high-fiving one another. (b) The migraine-inducing electronic shriek of the attacking birds, which happens every few minutes for the rest of the film.
One of my friends insisted on watching it to the bitter end. Another was visibly about to turn violent. I had to prep some fondue, STAT.
Anyway, here’s today’s killer robot (in this case a panhandling robot) from geekologie.com:
#203: Midnight Rescue
Late last night, I walked into the bathroom to find Ana (the angelic evil cat of many blog pictures) sprawled on the tiles. That was nothing unusual – the odd thing was that she didn’t look up as I walked in.
I crouched down and patted her. Instead of her usual coy, “Prrm?” she mewed in pain. I’ve heard her meow in annoyance, fear, and distress (faked or otherwise) – but never like that.
CJ spotted blood matting her fur. We tried to figure out where it was coming from, but her long fur got in the way. She baulked at the attention and tried to get up and slip past us. One of her paws gave way, and she was too low to the ground to move quickly. We grabbed her as gently as possible and continued trying to see where the blood was coming from, or if any of her bones were broken. The slighest touch on her left side made her yelp.
She smelled bad. Something had terrified her so much she’d lost the contents of her bowels. Her weakened paw was stained black on top.
CJ stayed with her while I fetched the phone directory. I searched for the closest 24-hour vet while Ana lay back down with her head against the tiles. The tip of her tail twitched against the floor.
At last we found a vet and called them, describing Ana’s condition as well as we could. They told us to come over.
Normally when I take Ana somewhere I put her in a pillow case (she’s calmer when she’s contained, and can’t see how fast we’re moving). We didn’t want to move her unnecessarily, so I picked her up and CJ draped a towel over her, which I then tucked around her as well as I could.
As we took her outside and into the car, she struggled violently, burrowing through the towel, writhing, and kicking against me with her back legs. She poked her head out of the towel and that seemed to calm her, so I let her remain like that.
Recognising that I was too panicked to navigate, CJ memorised the route. As we drove, Ana barely moved. She didn’t meow at all. She looked at nothing in eerie silence, hanging her head like a rag doll.
When we went into the vet she alternated between blank staring, and burying her nose into the crook of my elbow for comfort. Every time someone spoke or a door opened or closed, she jumped in fear.
At last the vet called us in. We put Ana on the floor and watched as she crept to hide under the vet’s chair. Her walk was low and lopsided, and she wasn’t interested in her surroundings at all.
The vet shaved some of her tail and found a large gash. She checked for a broken leg, broken ribs, and internal injuries – and everything was limited to bruises and sprains. All four of Ana’s paws had raggedly broken claws, which is an indication of an instinct to grip the road when an animal is hit by a car.
The vet gave us some antibiotics, and an opiate for her pain – warning it “Might make her a little funny.”
We came home $400 lighter. Drugs are expensive, kids – especially at night.
Ana is jumpy (and sleepy) but otherwise okay. These photos are from just now:
Oh, and the coy “Prrm?” is back.
S#55: Make Music
Imagine the scene: You’re at school camp and have eaten the food, but you and your friends are all still at the table, nursing your orange cordials and wondering how best to mess with the teachers without leaving your chairs. Someone starts tapping out a rhythm on their upturned cup. They teach the person next to them, and so on. Eventually you have dozens of people pounding out a rhythm, passing cups all around the table.
I recreated this with some friends at my house (filmed from underneath the glass table). They described it as “strangely zen”. As you’ll probably observe during the video, there was minimal training involved. The reason I’m giggling is that the person next to me copped a cup in their lap and managed to continue.
It’s a 4-4 rhythm, and it goes something like this:
Start with a cup to your left, upside down. With your right hand, lift it (1) and place it (still upside down) in front of you (2). Hit a brief rhythm on the base (left right left – 3-and-4). Clap (1), pick it up (2) and place it (still upside down) on your right (3, and 4 is a pause). Clap (1), then grasp it sideways with your right hand (twisting your wrist so your thumb is close to the table on the near side of the cup – 2), hit the open end against your left palm (3), the bottom against the table (4), then place the bottom of the cup in your left hand – twisting your wrist a little, and switching hands (1), hit your right palm against the table to your left (2), and the upside down cup on your far right (3, and pause for four). Then repeat but using the cup that has just been placed at your left.
I definitely recommend playing along at home, but not with Mum’s best china (or her second-best glass for that matter – we used plastic cups).
And here, continuing “Killer Robot Cat” month, is my oh-so-sweet Ana killing a yellow smiley face*
*Training. . .
Coming soon: How to annoy your neighbour by accidentally making a diet coke and mentos rocket that shoots over a 2-storey building (DON’T try that at home!)
Bubbles! With your hands!
Sculpture Garden
Bad movie night (during which I thought some of my guests might turn violent – and I sympathised)
and, as always, more. . .
#202: Secret Date
Today I surprised CJ by taking him to see the Canberra Choral Society, who performed for free at the National Gallery (I told CJ we were busy at three, but not why).
Before video games, there was TV. Before TV, there was reading. Before reading, there was singing. Before singing, God was bored and had a cool idea he decided to call “the universe”.
It’s quite peculiar to think that I’m being entertained in much the same way as Adam and Eve may have entertained one another – and, since the Canberra Choral Society’s choirmaster loves African spirituals – on much the same topics.
Uh oh…guests just arrived. Seeya.
Writing Advice
I just published this over at twittertales. It bears repeating. (In other news, Publisher D inadvertently requested “The Monster Apprentice” so I sent it to them. Publisher B, meanwhile, just let me know that both my books are with one of their readers – ie, progress is happening at last.)
I’d love to know what you guys wish someone had told you when you were working on your first novel.
Here’s mine:
1. Successful writers generally make around $10,000 a year (see #2).
2. Around 1 in 10,000 slushpile manuscripts get published (at a conference recently, I discovered that a large publisher hadn’t accepted a single book in three years – and they get hundreds every week). Meeting someone at a conference and using their name/email changes the odds to about 1 in 200. (You still need to write a brilliant book – unless you’re famous, of course.)
3. Publishers. . .
(a) are all friends with each other, so don’t ever be rude to/about anyone.
(b) actually make a loss on 90% of the books they DO produce, so cut them some slack.
(c) usually take 3-6 months to reply to the opening chapters, and just as long again for the full book. The longest I’ve heard of is four years, and the longest I’ve experienced is 16 months (and counting).
(d) are quaintly optimistic about their response times (if they were realists, they’d quit and get a better job).
(e) will not work with someone who is too lazy to read their submission instructions.
(f) are nice – but they don’t like being hassled.
4. If an agent or publisher charges you money, they’re a scam.
5. Manuscript assessors are useful, especially when you’re starting out, but their recommendations of your work are worth only slightly more than the fact that your mum thought it was super good.
6. For kids and young adults, your protagonist should be a couple of years older than your target audience, and your length needs to be right (check a publisher web site for length details BEFORE you write). Your characters won’t get married or raise kids, because your readers won’t be interested in that experience (not while they’re still at the age they started reading your book, anyway).
7. It generally takes around 10,000 hours of focused practise to get good at writing. Most writers throw away several books before they get good enough to be published.
8. Reading books in your genre is essential. If you don’t read, why do you think anyone will read you?
So, in conclusion, don’t write unless you enjoy writing for its own sake. And keep your day job.
Even if I’d known all of that (and I knew some of it), I’d still be a writer.
Advice for Beginning Novelists
I’ve decided to start posting writing advice whenever I feel like it. Here’s the beginning:
1. Successful writers generally make around $10,000 a year (see #2).
2. Around 1 in 10,000 slushpile manuscripts get published (at a conference recently, I discovered that a large publisher hadn’t accepted a single slushpile book in three years – and they receive hundreds every week). Meeting someone at a conference and using their name/email changes the odds to about 1 in 200. (You still need to write a brilliant and polished book – unless you’re famous, of course.) On several occasions I’ve walked up to a publisher at a conference and said exactly this: “Hi, my name’s Louise Curtis and I’d love to send my children’s adventure fantasy book to the right person at [name of that person’s company]. Could you help me?” It works every time – all they want to know is length, genre, and age group – not the fact that I had the idea in the bath or that I really like their hair. When I write to the contact person, I mention the meeting – so they can either remember me, or talk to someone who does (proof of personal hygiene is worth a lot).
3. Publishers. . .
(a) are all friends with each other, so don’t ever be rude to/about anyone.
(b) actually make a loss on 90% of the books they DO produce, so cut them some slack.
(c) usually take 3-6 months to reply to the opening chapters, and just as long again for the full book. The longest I’ve heard of is four years, and the longest I’ve experienced is 18 months (and counting).
(d) are quaintly optimistic about their response times (if they were realists, they’d quit and get a better job).
(e) are nice – but they don’t like being hassled. So wait at least three months before contacting anyone, ever – and don’t be surprised if they haven’t started reading your book yet.
(f) will not work with someone who is too lazy to read their submission instructions and/or use decent English. http://shootingthrough.net/2010/10/28/how-to-talk-english-like-more-gooder/
4. If an agent or publisher charges you money, they’re a scam.
5. Manuscript assessors are useful, especially when you’re starting out, but their recommendations of your work are worth only slightly more than the fact that your mum thought it was super good.
6. For kids and young adults, your protagonist should be a couple of years older than your target audience, and your length needs to be right (check a publisher web site for length details BEFORE you write). Your characters won’t get married or raise kids, because your readers won’t be interested in that experience (not while they’re still at the age they started reading your book, anyway). Other than that, you can do almost anything – see # 8.
7. It generally takes around 10,000 hours of focused practise to get good at writing. Most writers throw away several books before they get good enough to be published (I’ve thrown away three and rewritten three others – so far).
8. Reading books in your genre is essential. If you don’t read, why do you think anyone will read you? How do you know what your market likes?
9. If you get published, you still need to sell the book to the public. This means travelling, interviews, etc. You definitely need to rent a crowd wherever possible – the average number of participants at book readings in the USA is four.
So, in conclusion, don’t write unless you enjoy writing for its own sake.
PS Some funny posts on writers (and how unpleasant we are, mainly because of stuff outlined above) – be warned, there are naughty words and one adult joke.
http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2010/10/12/beware-of-writer/
http://www.rebeccarosenblum.com/2010/10/07/why-date-a-writer/
PPS
The best way to cope with rejection is to already have another book happening (ideally a stand-alone book in case you later find out the first has fatal flaws).
Also, chocolate.
Also, writing forums.
Also, getting another job – one where you’re paid by the hour. It sounds cold, but it’s the most useful thing you can do to stay afloat psychologically (and financially).
Here’s a list of 50 well-known writers who faced plenty of rejection:
http://www.onlinecollege.org/2010/05/17/50-iconic-writers-who-were-repeatedly-rejected/
And here’s a conversation that will make you laugh, think, or both (in Australia, you don’t necessarily have to have an agent):
S#61: Wake-Up Call
In accordance with the laws of awesome, I just changed the wake-up alarm on my phone to Beethoven. Just one more way to make sure I wake up confused.
Eeeeexcellent.
On Friday I’ll be launching my steampunk twittertale “Zeppelin Jack and the Deadly Dueller”, AND Steampunk Earth Day for 30 October (similar to Earth Hour, but longer, and with better outfits).
Speaking of confusion, here’s another cute not-yet-robotic kitty:
Coming soon:
Surprise date
Bad movie night
Diet coke and mentos bombs! Yep, there’ll be video.
#50: No plans
I think you all know, at least in theoretical terms, how awesome today’s awesomeness is.
I’m not doing anything today.
I’m not going to work.
I’m not seeing anyone (unless it happens spontaneously).
I’m not doing any exercise.
I’m not even cooking dinner (I have leftovers prepped).
It’s startlingly complicated to prepare for a day of nothingness. I’m proud to have done it. Please do play along at home, if only for an hour.
Here’s some things to get you appreciating the nothingness.
This article is safe, but the blog is PG or so for mentioning unpleasant things every so often.
http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/09/party.html
http://geekologie.com is just great. I dunno what the rating is – I’d guess PG or G.
For inspiration, try Donald Miller (PG for frequent Christian stuff), eg this post: http://donmilleris.com/2010/04/30/if-youre-life-were-a-movie/
Finally, the not-PG-but-generally-positive-with-a-bit-of-metalish-horror-etc Steff Metal post that’s influenced so many blog entries here (this entry is G):
http://steffmetal.com/101-ways-to-cheer-yourself-up
I also just stumbled across a rather long but interesting article on why there is Christian fantasy, but very little Jewish fantasy. It’s child-safe, and it’s here: http://www.jewishreviewofbooks.com/publications/detail/why-there-is-no-jewish-narnia
The best part is this opening paragraph, which made my day:
Although it might seem unlikely that anyone would wonder whether the author of The Lord of the Rings was Jewish, the Nazis took no chances. When the publishing firm of Ruetten & Loening was negotiating with J. R. R. Tolkien over a German translation of The Hobbit in 1938, they demanded that Tolkien provide written assurance that he was an Aryan. Tolkien chastised the publishers for “impertinent and irrelevant inquiries,” and—ever the professor of philology— lectured them on the proper meaning of the term: “As far as I am aware none of my ancestors spoke Hindustani, Persian, Gypsy, or any related dialects.” As to being Jewish, Tolkien regretted that “I appear to have no ancestors of that gifted people.”
Today’s geekologie robot-ish pic:
S#100: Hug someone
This one’s definitely recommended for playing along at home. Hugging and eating chocolate do have similarly relaxing results, so yay for that.
In writing terms, this week has been thrillingly exciting.
No, nothing actually happened. This is the writing life we’re talking about.
The high-octane action adventure began as I received an email from Publisher D (my shiny new contact, who just received the beginning of book 2 of my kids’ trilogy). She said she’d received it, and she’d let me know when she’d read it. She also asked where I’d published the first book (having misinterpreted something I’d said).
I wrote back and said the first book was on Publisher B’s slushpile, and had been for nine months. I added that although they were fine with me sending it elsewhere, I valued their comments and chose to wait – and besides, Publisher D had requested and rejected an earlier draft of the first book a few years ago.
She wrote back and said that she could only read the first book in a series, so she wouldn’t read anything until the first book was ready.
I took the permission she’d technically granted, and sent her the beginning of book 1. Zap! Pow!
All this happened in lightning speed during a single afternoon.
So what, kemosabe, does it all mean?
It means:
a) I’ve been given permission to resend book 1 to Publisher D (which is, I think, a better book – and of course my own natural choice for first book to reach publication) – and I’ve sent it. I won’t hear a final answer for 6-12 months.
b) Book 2 is now free for a smaller publisher – like Publisher I, who I wanted to send something to after hearing them speak in Melbourne.
c) I have an excuse to not only write to Publisher B (again), but to sound good when I do, since Publisher D did technically request it (which implies they’re the same publisher I pitched to in Brisbane, which is not at all the case since I was horribly rejected in Brisbane).
So! I took my good-sounding excuse and wrote to Publisher B (this time cc-ing the email to my original contact) – precisely one hour ago.
My original contact is on holiday, as her autobot informed me.
My usual contact just replied (yay!) and said that both books are now with independent readers for further evaluation.
This is GREAT news. It is the second-last rung of the ladder (the last rung is the aquisitions meetings). The independent reader will be fresh (a boon for two re-submitted novels), and their job is READING, which means they’ll be a whole lot faster than a publisher or editor (who often only actually have about two hours of reading time a week, since it’s not their main job).
In fact, “Stormhunter” was once “unconditionally recommended” by a freelance reader for Publisher A. My contact there (an editor) was so excited that she emailed me to let me know it was with “the aquisitions editor”. Two weeks later, I had my answer. It was a no, sadly – but the reason it was rejected was because of an unmarketable plotline which I’ve since removed.
So! It’s moved up. Progress! I’m pretty confident freelance readers will like what they see (whether they’re blown away is another matter), and I know my twittertales and blogging and so forth do help at acquisitions meetings (plus I’ve already met at least one of the people who’ll be sitting at that table – which means they know I’m not visibly deranged*).
The down side is that December is coming, and everything slows down then. I reckon I’ll hear back in either November or February/March next year – since it’s two books, next year is more likely. I won’t email again until at least January. Apart from anything else, it’s no longer in the tarry hands of my main Publisher B contact.
I’m too excited to go find a picture at present (also, I need to go to work, STAT!) but I will tell you that the story beginning on October 1 is called “Zeppelin Jack and the Deadly Dueller.” Yep, it’s steampunk time.
Still, here’s a link to a fan-made transformers movie that looked like it had robots in it (I don’t know what the rating is):
http://www.geekologie.com/2010/09/russian_fanmade_transformers_m.php
*I’ve been to writing conferences and met other writers, and believe me – writers, hobos and serial killers are indistinguishable.
Felicity Banks 