Archive for brainmeats

Old books

September 1, 2012 books, brainmeats No comments

I have a thing about old, theoretically useless, books. I adore them. I can’t help it. If you give me a set of 1950′s science texts I will cherish them forever (I have a great one though so gimmie something else).

There’s something about old information that gets me. Information that is out of date and since been proven wrong, specifically. Even social info that is sadly racist and sexist and Western biased is interesting to me. Not when it’s done now or modern but when it was an accepted thing to do there’s something to be learned from reading those old texts and seeing how a lot of people thought and passed information along and how they imagined the world to be actually shaped.

It’ if nothing else, keeps me on my toes. Everything I know might well be wrong. A lot of it generally is. But it is also frequently handed over as The Truth and looking at scores of old Truths that aren’t True reminds me that information is fluid and being adaptable is the key. I have to try to not hold anything so tightly that it can’t be put aside for an idea that provably, for it’s time, more correct.

And so I will hunt old books and strange texts because I can’t help it. If I had enough space and money I would want a complete set of World Almanacs, for example. I have like 10 or 12 I think (I used to have more, and I lose some every move so I may only have like three by now) because wow they’re great.

They also allow for strange connections and browsing. The internet is bad for browsing. You have to be looking for a thing to find it, most times. Not a hard rule but a general reality. With an Almanac you just flip it open and find stuff.

Recently I scored on the dirt cheap a complete set Will and Ariel Durant’s The Story of Civilization. This is an 11 volume set of more than 10,000 pages of history. Written from the 30s to the 70s. It’s a bit… biased. It was also their life’s work. They died with it unfinished (it was supposed to go up until early 19th century and stops at Napoleon (published the year I was born). That’s worth respect. And yeah, it leans badly but man it is endlessly fascinating.

Old information is just as revealing as new information if you learn how to look.

Now in paper form.

August 21, 2012 awesome!, brainmeats No comments

The other month I decided to bite the bullet and get a logo for myself. It’s scary paying a designer for a logo. Maybe that’s just me. Still, for me, paying someone to discuss and design a logo that worked for me, for all my stuff, was a bit odd. I do it myself. I make happily mostly crappy but serviceable logos.

Except I needed to stop and make one logo that would do everywhere. It was just time. And so I went to Dylan Todd (also here on twitter). I’d been a fan of his logo design for a while, so the chance to work with him made it more fun.

And we chatted some and he went off to his DesignCave (it’s like a Batcave, but cooler, I think) and came back with the goods. And now I have a logo that works in a horizontal and square form and is good for websites, banners at cons and biz cards. And anything else I might need to put a logo on.

So I ordered new cards, planning on having cards that didn’t look like crap for the first time ever. They came in last night:


Uhhh. Yeah. They are awesome.

So, remember: don’t be afraid to hire an awesome designer when you need one.

Hooray logos!

Toys.

August 13, 2012 brainmeats, NY Life No comments

There’s a certain amount of magic I miss, and that I chase down all the time to no real avail. This is also part of why I write, really but it will all be told through the use of cars. Yes, cars.

Toy cars, that is.

When I was a kid I would get like Matchbox or Hot wheels cars, like most every other kid I know. And I would take that car, that purchase of joy, and play with it like whoa.

Now to back up a bit when I would be allowed to go into a toy store, or at the Rite-Aid, or whatever, and told I could get a car, it wasn’t often or anything but it happened) I would look them all over and choose seriously. This car would be the best thing I ever got. Each and every time.

So I’d get home, or to my Grandmother’s house or where ever (I remember a lot of them out by her because out by her was the only Toys R’ Us nearby at the time so there were always cars there and if we went out there (once a summer) we got a car…) and once there I would push the car around. Endlessly. Up and down couches and furniture and along floors and… my focus was singular.

I had the same thing with Lego, of course. All sorts of toys would do it. I would narrow my focus and just play. As I got older, thought, the toys changed and so did I. I loved video games and more complex toys, but I found that they split my focus a bit. They also told me story instead of letting me tell one to myself, and that always left me slightly removed.

I still look for that thing. The object that I will cherish and use the same as I did those cars so long ago. Everything I buy, I hope it will be that, and I try but these days my focus is, by necessity, so split that it can’t happen. And yet I still try for it. I see things, they can be watches or fidgets or anything at all. A lamp, say. And I think “This thing will become the center of my universe, for at least two days.”

It never does.

And when it doesn’t I feel as if I have wasted my time and money. I haven’t used it right, it was a waste of time, – like I have failed. It makes it really hard to break down and buy anything, which isn’t a bad thing, really. But it’s also why I buy books and movies faster. I always get my focus on and my time in on them. So there’s that.

and the writing, I mean of course. I miss the days of playing with toys and inventing my own stories about them. So now I do it without the toys. That’s all.

I am, and always will be, a five year old kid, sprawled on the floor, playing with toys.

On writing Real Worlds.

August 6, 2012 brainmeats 2 comments

As a writer there are a lot of things that drive me up a wall. A lot. I mean, we’re talking a metric fuckton of things that rub me the wrong way. Many of them I can fix, many more I can’t, and some I just won’t get around to. But one of the bigger ones, that I can keep striving to fix for myself is that as a white male in America it can be amazingly hard to see the world the way it truly is.

Look, it wasn’t intentional, in the way that someone near me set out to specifically clobber me and… hahahahaha that’s a lie. The whole Western world has specifically arranged for this problem. I mean come on. I have it the easiest. I get bonus points for breathing. I have so much inherent privilege that I’m pretty sure there is less Government Cheese out there, ya know? I can’t push it away. I want to, mind you, I don’t want to be part of some system that decides I’m worth more because of genes I had no say in.

That isn’t a “woe is me.” It’s just that society slaps me with this and I have to deal with it. Deal with it. That’s my job. To see it and realize it for what it is and behave like a proper adult in this world. It means using that privilege to help other people, when and how they ask, to rise above their own stupid, unnecessary, societal bullshit.

And none of that really matters. This is my bullshit to cope with and become a better human around. When there are discussions of privilege they often don’t include me. Not because I’m a bad person, but because by the nature of how people like me have fucked this world up – I am left out of discussions by default. Which is, really, how it should be. I’m cool with that.

But as a writer it creates a huge problem for me to overcome. I want to write the world. Got that? Not a book with a bunch of straight white guys, but a world that reflects the actual, real, breathing world I live in.

Except all of my experience is based around my life, sort of by default. And my life, as mentioned above, is not actually reflective of the world at all. So I do more research and I talk to friends and I work even harder to make sure I get stuff right. Writing about trans, gay, non-white, non-male (etc.) characters will always be harder for me. Because I can never truly know their lives. I can do the research and do. I can ask friends to look it over and give advice and share their own views and I do.

But at the core I will never truly know it. No matter how I dig, I will be missing a large part of it simply by not having been through it. And I can do my best, and then do better, and then – after that – do even better the next time if I’m lucky and smart and keep trying. But I can never understand it the same as someone born there, not 100%, not deep in my bones where the ice weasels live.

The human experience is a huge and varied thing, sure. We all know that. A lot of my life has been trying to find ways out of my skull, to get out of the trap of privilege and bullshit I was born into. To see the world for what it is.

But it sure as shit ain’t easy. Worth doing. A million times over it is worth doing. But it isn’t easy. And it shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be easy to truly and deeply walk in someone else’s life. To wrap your head around how every word you choose has connotations you can’t even see from where you sit. But it is always worth doing.

Again, in no way am I remotely saying this is something worth feeling sorry for me about. It isn’t a thing to be proud of me for doing. It isn’t a thing that should be, really, recognized.

This should be an expected, normal part of writing, and nothing more.

But, as Cat Valente mentioned on Twitter and I realized she was right – no one seems to come out and say it. So I decided to:

I am a writer who is a white guy in America and that shit makes it extra hard for me to see the world, and to see other people’s experience, without shooting it through the same lens of bullshit that built the inequalities in the first place.

So I’ll work harder, every day, and be grateful for the ability to do so.

So I’ll try a little more each word I write, and be thankful I am surrounded by people willing to share and educate me.

So I’ll be even more open to criticism, and rejoice in the voices that are willing to help me get better.

So I’ll always strive to see the world and write and create worlds that are reflective and inclusive, and apologize and correct when I’m wrong.

And then, after all that is done I’ll wake up the next day and do it again. And maybe one day, if we’re all lucky and never stop pushing back, this won’t be a problem. It will take far longer and need far more work than anyone wishes it would.

And every inch of it will be worth it a million times over if we can get there.

Creating PLUS.

July 31, 2012 brainmeats, stuff and things, writing No comments

Being a creative used to be, for a time, about creating. These days, and I say this as a warning to you all, it is about 60% about being creative and doing the work.

The other 40% is… well let me break is down for you:

I spend about 3 to 5 hours a day “writing.” Used to be that was 3 to 5 hours a day actually writing. Now it’s more 3 hours writing and 2 hours working out PR ideas, answering emails, making phone calls, being my own business manager and PR person and ad agency and research dept. and…

No one will ever do this stuff for you without charging you far more than you can afford, and even then they will lack the personal touch that connects with people – so you do it yourself anyway. And you make it fun, as fun as possible. But seriously. You will be doing one hell of a lot that you might not expect to be doing at first.

Let that sink in. Seriously, start living with the idea that you will be doing your own PR, your own tracking, and so on. Realize what that means:

You want an ad campaign? Great! Who is going to design it? Maybe you have the skills, maybe not. If not – hire someone. Better to pay and do it right than do it so badly it looks like crap.

Do you want to send out review copies, or get interviews and be on podcasts? Of course you do. So start looking at places that might be a good fit for your work and searching them and researching them for names and email addresses. Remember it is better to target than to shotgun and pray. Oh, it’s tempting to shotgun but you get better results with one well placed article than five smaller ones at places whose audience isn’t yours.

But you have to make these lists and update them and grow relationships with reviewers and sites. Of course, no matter how good you are in with a site or a reviewer you should never, not once never, expect a review. You are never owed anything just for showing up to the dance. And when the people you started to think of as friends give you a bad review, or just don’t bother to review you that one time – you’re still friends. They’re doing their job, just like you’re doing yours.

You are the first and last stop to get word out about your book. That isn’t an invitation to be a jerk about it, just know that you have to be a professional and learn a ton of new skills. It takes a while. That’s all right. Everyone understands.

Your best bet is to stop and consider what you want to do and them lay out the skills you’ll need to learn and triage them – which will you learn and which will you pay for? For years, to give you an example, I have been doing my own text logos for my site. I design the site and change it all the time so why not that as well. Recently I decided to pay for a professional logo, and worked with a designer to find a logo that will be able to withstand my normal changes and give me a better, more seamless, look for a bunch of things.

It cost a bit of money but it will save me time, enhance what I do and look far better. I should have done it years ago. But I was afraid that spending the money was a waste. It often isn’t, though it can be scary. Spending money, when you’re new to the game and don’t have much, is always scary. There are times it is 100% worth it, however.

So you try and you learn and you keep learning. As you go you’ll find you do less and less creative stuff because you have to get this other crap done, too. Then you’ll react to that and do less of the PR/Marketing and more creative stuff and the balance will swing.

Eventually, if you keep working at it, you’ll find a sweet spot where you have time for both, farm some out and learn to enjoy all of it.

So take stock of what you need to do, what you are doing, and what you want to and can learn. Then take a deep breath and start taking care of business. No one is going to leap in and do it for you.

Posers.

July 26, 2012 books, brainmeats, comics, movies, music, tv 9 comments

I’ve seen a bunch of anger toward “posers” recently and I don’t get it. There are people getting mad because people are pretending to like something only because it is cool to like it, but they don’t really like it or get it. And that’s… bad?

How – that’s my problem – how is it bad?

If you like something you want it to do well, to succeed and thrive. More people spending money on it, talking about it, drawing focus to it bring that all home. They make the thing you love better funded and better accepted. They widen its base and spread it around.

But they don’t really like it, and so that’s bad.

Because the thing you like getting bigger is a horrible idea.

If you like something, if you truly enjoy it and want it to live, you want it to grow bigger. And that means more people looking at it. I don’t care if you somehow feel special because it is this little unknown thing in a closet just for you and your friends. That’s the way this shit dies early, by being kept hidden away. So – choose – do you want it to thrive or want it to fail? And if the answer is thrive then grow up!

Because according to you a “poser” is someone who is faking enjoyment of a thing. What you really mean is: They don’t enjoy it “enough” according to you, Grand Master Of How Much People Like Things.

I mean really. You wouldn’t want someone telling you you are enjoying things “wrong” would you? But you feel free to say it to other people.

“Oh no, this person here says they like Street Fighter but they don’t even know all the character names!”

Uhm. So the fuck what? You can like something and not obsess over it. You can like something and just, you know, like it.

You do not get to decide how much anyone else likes something, anymore than they can judge you for it.

Some people have to know every detail of a thing they like. Some don’t. It’s all fine! Look, me just kinda enjoying a thing you are hardcore into doesn’t weaken your enjoyment! It doesn’t make the thing you love any less of a thing. It just means I like it, but differently. And that is all right. It really is.

Deciding people are posers is elitist bullshit, the kind of stuff that most people outgrow around 7th grade. Get with it. Move along. Grow up. Let people enjoy things however much or little they enjoy them and understand it doesn’t affect your enjoyment of that thing one tiny bit. And then be thankful for the so-called posers – for helping that thing you love stay alive. Thank them! Your petty, twisted, selfish love isn’t enough.

These guys, the ones you think don’t care enough to obsess – they help a ton. Deal with it. And stop telling other people what they can and can’t like and how much they have to like something to be valid. Doing that is why we can’t have nice things. Seriously – you guys are the problem.

Linked In Regardless of Desire

July 24, 2012 brainmeats, wtf?! 3 comments

So this is all true and how my experience with LinkedIn has gone, up through today.

Day 1
Used LinkedIn today. Don’t know why or what it is for. Seems to mostly be for using LinkedIn so other people can use LinkedIn to use LinkedIn and to add me so we all use LinkedIn. The recursion is potentially dangerous.

Day 5
Got another request today from someone. Still unclear as to why.

Day 102
Forgot I had a LinkedIn account until yet another person asked me to verify I knew them. Why does telling this specific website that yes, I knew this person, improve anyone’s day? Were they unsure if I would admit to knowing them, before this? I am now suspicious of everyone I know who ends up in LinkedIn. Including myself. What are our motives here? What is the end game?

Day 309
If I keep using LinkedIn someone will love me. No! No! Must resist the horror! Every time I get a request I have to try and find my password for the site. Still have no idea why it exists. These people, once considered my friends, now go into a new list, a new category, by simply sending me these requests. They become The Other to me. The strange person who, I have to assume, has a use for LinkedIn. Why won’t they speak of it? Why am I being excluded? What have I done? What can I do? How much longer must I be… alone?

Day 514 June 6th, 2012
LinkedIn was hacked. They told me I should change my password. I have used this as an excuse to escape. I have marked my account to be deleted and now they can not control me anymore! I am free!

June 8th, 2012
Huh. Got new mail from LinkedIn telling me what my so-called friends were up to. Must take a day to work out of the system. Or two. That’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. I’m all right. I’m free.

June 16th, 2012
New mail from LinkedIn. That’s not right. I was free! Damn it! I was free! Well, fine. I’ll go tell them to stop. I can unsubscribe. I must just be stuck on a list. Wait, what? This says my account is “Restricted.” No, there should be no account. I deleted it. But it won’t let me unsub from the list because I can’t log in to verify my account. Because I deleted it. No. This is not right in any way.

June 23rd, 2012
Well. Still getting mail. I’ll be polite and mail support about it. “I have requested an account deletion, and yet am listed as Restricted and am stuck on a mailing list. Could you please assist me with ensuring my account is wiped and I get no more mail? Thanks!” That’ll do it.

June 29th, 2012
Just got a new request from LinkedIn by someone who found my account. Still haven’t heard back. This isn’t right. Not at all. Let me go, LinkedIn! I will not make any deals with you. I’ve resigned. I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed or numbered. My life is my own. I resign.

July 8th, 2012
Contacted support again. Nicely. Against my better judgment. Did it after I got another email from them and ran into the same Restricted Account nonsense trying to get away from them. Am now half-convinced LinkedIn will never let me go. Once Linked, always Linked. True purpose of site revealed: Drive humans crazy.

June 24th, 2012
Was a while without mail, and no contact from support. Considered matter quietly dealt with. Was wrong. Two mails and a request today from LinkedIn. Contacted support again. Sent the following: “I asked you to delete my account. Instead I still get mail from you guys and it says my account is restricted so that I can’t even shut the mails off. CAN YOU FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK DELETE MY FUCKING ACCOUNT?” Have developed Pavlovian twitch when I see new mail from LinkedIn. Want to cry, or punch beautiful things in order to ruin them, as I feel ruined by LinkedIn. I await response but am not hopeful. Soon, I will die here, alone. LinkedIn despite myself. And my soul shall crumble and the walls of Jericho shall… No! I will persevere! I will be strong! I… will… be one with the Linked and my deliver unto them my soul. I will… No! No! Not yet, Lord! Not! Yet!

Flying kids.

July 16, 2012 brainmeats 24 comments

I don’t have kids. I don’t particularly like kids. But I don’t blame them for existing. I’m starting to get sick of people who do. See, here’s a quick story:

I flew back to NY yesterday. Sitting next to me were a couple with their new eight-month old baby. I knew the kid’s age only because they told me. Specifically, the mother got there first, sat down, and started to wipe down the trays and various surfaces. She caught me wondering what the hell she was doing and explained she had a grabby eight-month old. Anyway.

So they get situated and the kid is happily burbling away. We take-off and the kid wails a bit. Ears popping and so on. The father held her for awhile and then passed her off to the mother was right next to me. I’m listening to music fairly softly, and reading and this kid is kicking me with a spare leg. I mean, her leg and my leg met. She wasn’t trying to kick me, she was just moving her leg. Occasionally she would make noises and reach and pluck at my shirt, or arm, if they were in reach.

New things! Close by! Explore! Explore!

Then she started to cry. And they soothed her. Later she cried more. Etc.

As we landed I said to the mother “Just so we’re clear, I’m not in a hurry, here. you have a small child. Take your time and don’t stress about it.”

And she looked at me, confused.

“Do you spend a lot of time with kids?”

“No. I don’t generally even like them.”

“Well you’re really good with them.”

“Naw. Hey, I don’t like flying and I understand what’s going on around me. If I could scream a few times myself it might help. So, you know…”

And they seemed confused. I wasn’t mad, I didn’t care or get annoyed with their child at any point. You know why? The kid was reacting like anyone would or should, given its age and grasp of events.

Babies have no idea what’s going on! You put them in a plane, keep them bundled and it is loud and feels funny and hurts when their ears pop and… of course they cry! They’re not comfortable, and are often scared.

Small kids? They’re huge bundles of energy. And worse they think flying is going to be the best thing ever. It’s flying! But then it’s being locked in a small metal tube for hours and not being allowed to get out of your seat and play and… that’s hell for a child.

Children cry. They scream. They don’t know better ways to express themselves, or at least more ways that are considered acceptable, and so they express themselves the best they can. they aren’t doing it to spite you or annoy you. They’re upset. and they are allowed to be! But getting mad at them, or worse, mad at the parents – what does that do, exactly?

It teaches parents they shouldn’t take their kids anywhere. Which is bullshit. Kids have a right to explore this planet too, it makes them better humans with wider perspectives. And if we have to put up with a bit of screaming for a few hours, poor us. We have headphones, we have coping techniques, we have experience.

If you, as an adult, can in no way cope with a small child being a small child for a few hours I strongly suggest that perhaps it isn’t the child who shouldn’t be out among people, but it is you.

And this comes from someone who doesn’t like kids. I don’t. but I don’t deny their right to exist and I understand their limitations and capacities. I’m not saying ignore a 10 year old who won’t stop kicking your seat. No, they are old enough to know, as frustrating as it is, that bored doesn’t mean upsetting other people. So, ask nicely. Nicely. I try to apologize to the parent, making it clear that, you know, little Joan is super-bored and I get it, but can she be bored without quite as much kicking? It’s all good, just… let’s try. And if it fails, yeah it annoys me, but so long as Joan and her dad made an effort to adapt behavior, hey, it’s a start.

Remember: You were a kid once too. And wouldn’t you have loved to not get yelled at for being a kid before you could understand what people wanted out of you and why? Spread the respect.

Don’t let kids run wild and unsupervised, but also let’s not put them in cages and berate them for being small humans who are, emotionally, unrestrained. We can teach them, and accept them or we can brow-beat them and make them resentful and, possibly, worse humans in the long run.

So next time you travel and there are six screaming kids on a flight (this has literally happened to me), laugh it off, read your book and pretend it’s a shitty auto-tuned song from some band you’ve never heard of. And then ask for a vodka and raise the bottle to the parents who are just trying to raise the best humans they can.

Why co-write?

July 10, 2012 brainmeats, writing No comments

A few people have asked recently, even though I made a joke that no one asks, this started before that, why I co-write just about everything I do in comics. It’s true. In all of my comics work out so far and upcoming there is one solo-written eight page story out there.

Past that all my comic work is co-written.

Here’s why: I write a lot of prose. When I’m working on prose I have to do it myself. I can’t co-write a novel. It doesn’t work for me. So all of my time in prose is spent working alone, in a room, with music on and not talking to anyone. Not collaborating at all. Just me and a screen and a story to get 80,000 words into.

But when I work in comics…

Oh wow, comics.

Comics are, for me, a source of collaboration. That’s what they’re there for! That’s the biggest joy of doing comics for me – collaborating with other people to tell a story. And yeah, obviously, the artist is a collaborator. Of course! But my first stop is a co-writer because when I switch headspace from prose (incredibly selfish about every story detail because it is Mine!Mine!Mine!) to comics (overwhelmingly open and free and happy with all collaboration) I need to have a spot where I can collaborate with someone in my own language first.

Writers and artists are different and I adore both of them, but in order to rewarm my brain up to collaborating on comics I find it best, for me personally, to have a writer to go “Let’s make pretty ideas bounce around” before I sink back into full collaboration with artists.

It eases me back in, every single time. And since there are days I have to go from prose to comics within a few minutes, it’s nice to know I have these touchstones, these friends I can trust, to remind me “Oh, right, you love doing this, you just forget how if you stare at prose for too long.”

Could I write comics solo? Of course I can! Will I? I’d say it was a safe bet! Will it ever be as much fun? No way. I love collaborating on comics. I want artists to have story say and change layouts and get mad and involved and own things and fucking play like it’s Xmas morning on every page! And inkers and colorists and letters… when you get a team that has fun, and all feel like they contribute – you get magic. And that’s, for me, what comics is.

That’s the magic. That’s my love.

And when you add getting to collaborate with another writer, too? Holy shit that’s just bonus points all the way.

So yeah. I collaborate because when I write novels I will never be able to, and writing is lonely. Comics is never lonely so I wanna throw a huge party. That’s all.

Also – I work with writers who are better and smarter than me and make me work even harder to keep up. Makes me better at my job, it does.

Be creative. I dare you.

July 9, 2012 brainmeats, writing No comments

Do you want to do creative things in your life? Do you want to write, paint, draw, make music? Do you want to know the Big Number One A-Plus Secret Technique that will make all your dreams come true? I can give that to you:

Do the damned work.

Just… write / draw / play. That’s it. Do the work and, when it sucks, do more work. Writing, for example, is at least 90% failure. That’s how you learn. There is no magic montage that swims you forward. If you want to gain a serious skill you have to be ready to pay a serious price.

If you don’t do the work – the work will not get done.

Ever. No matter what. You have to put in the time and then put in more time and it sucks some nights and you just keep pushing because this is what you want. If you want to get into a creative thing seriously because you think it is some kind of short-cut or easy times – well you’re so wrong I almost feel bad for you.

You’ll never feel ready, you’ll never get over the fear, you’ll always find excuses to put it off – this holds for everyone! That’s ok. You do the work anyway and you get better and you’ll grow.

But still! You want to know what it is really like. What working in creative fields really feels like, day after night after day? Fine.

Imagine taking the thing you love so dearly you want to tell people about it endlessly. And then taking that thing, nightly, and wring its neck until it dies before you, its eyes pleading for mercy even as it shits itself in fear and death.

You will do that every single night.

If you can do that and still love that thing, regardless of how you have to treat it and how it treats you, because let’s be honest the little fucker was asking for it, then hey good news!
You can maybe have a career in the arts.

Enjoy it.

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