The Purpose of Art…

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That’s it.  All thirty-one pieces of art from Inktober.  I framed them and put them above my desk.

It feels a bit weird, like I’m betraying my humble, working class heritage.  We don’t go  for vanity, or tootling your own horn, or any such drawing attention to yourself.  I mean, they aren’t that good, and some of them a really bad.  Nobody would buy them, and art is a waste of time, and you have to work hard to feed your family.  I mean, you could put one or two of the best up, but not where anyone would see, except maybe family, who will love you anyway.  You don’t want to get above yourself.

Fuck that.

I turn fifty in a couple of months.  My country is a dumpster fire.  Human rights and social safety nets are being lost and cut like they’re made of tissue paper.  (The really cheap stuff, from the dollar store.)  Profit is God, and people are dying on it’s altar.  Everybody I know is struggling to keep it together, sometimes just day-by-day.  Including me.

I’m going to make Art.  I’m going to draw and write my feelings.  I spent thirty-one dollars at the dollar store for frames.  I went to the library for books on graphic novel and comic book techniques.  I’ve written three novels, have the notes for six more, and I’m going to keep working on them until they are ready to publish.  I’m going to submit short stories to anthologies, and keep writing my blog, and…  Keep screaming my words to the wind.

I don’t really know what else to do.

“The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls.”  Pablo Picasso

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Inktober Countdown!

Scan_20171030 (3)I’m completely fried, but wanted to check in.  Thank you for all of the support and patience with me this month.  I will try to get the useful posts up in November and December, along with pics of the costume I was working on.

Apparently, I’ve just added a graphic novel/comic series to next year’s agenda, because I didn’t have enough projects going on.  Nice.  It’s scripted, but I’ll be doing layout and pencils.  Then I’ll have to ink, color and letter it, unless I hook an artist by the imagination or suddenly get rich enough to hire one.  Yikes!

Happy writing, especially all of you NaNoWriMo participants!  I’ll be cheering you from the sidelines!

What?

Scan_20171015 (6)I’m sure no Humans are worried that I missed a post last Monday.  Hell, I didn’t even realize I had forgotten for about 36 hours.  I have found the literal, figurative, metaphorical, and actual limit to my creativity.

Inktober and making-a-new-cosplay-for-my-daughter do not play well with others.  I was able to edit for the first two weeks, along with helping some friends with other projects, but it all went sideways week three.

Honestly, I’ll be surprised if I get a post up next Monday, unless it’s just a stream of obscenities.  I may post Nov 1st to prove I survived, or I will sleep all day.  Thank goodness I didn’t commit to NaNoWriMo because of my strong commitment to editing my WIP.  Good luck to those who are doing it!

Catch y’all on the flip side!

From the Depths of Insanity!!!!!

Scan_20171004 (3)What the heck was I thinking?  Committing to Inktober2017 was horribly naïve.  I am so far out of my depth that the deep-sea fishes–the kind with running lights and glow lures–think I am stupid for risking this crush-depth.  I mean, it’s fun, creative, and nerve-racking, and I’m getting to do things I haven’t done for DECADES, and I’m learning lots about myself…

Well, I guess I answered my own question.  And I wouldn’t be the first artistic/creative person who switched mediums, or just found some days were better for different mediums.  The stories are still there, on a low simmer, but so much creative effort is going into each piece of art that I don’t have any to spare.  I am getting some editing done in the early am, so I still have a hand in.  Struggling to get the beta reading done, and the helpful posts haven’t happened.  Sorry.

So, I hope all of you have productive and creative weeks.  I’ll get a handle on my schedule, one way or another. I hope the spin I gave the Franz Kafka quote (above) gives you a chuckle.  My apologies to Terry Pratchett for his use of the “Five Exclamations of Madness,” and for stealing the newspaper idea.

The List

21462707_1052682281534463_6283699470490206764_nThings I have accomplished today:

  1. Morning chores while overcoming shock.
  2. Editing.
  3. Decent try at working the day job.
  4. Afternoon errands.
  5. Evening meal and chores while watching the death toll rise.
  6. Inktober drawing while listening to Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.
  7. Shower beer.  (This is an actual first.)
  8. Typing this…

Things that are absent from the list?  Beta reading.  The Low-Budget Writing posts.  Crying, because I’m still numb with shock, and wondering how bad it’s going to get before it gets better, or if this is the new normal.

I have a new short story burbling.  (Some of you might know this, if you’re on Facebook.)  I know that every story is different, and I have already described them as soups or thunderstorms, but THIS one is different.  This one is sapient.  It’s a little troll or Gollum sitting on my shoulder, muttering to its self.

What is it doing?  Grabbing at passing information, tossing some, tucking others away in its ragged clothes.  What is it keeping?  Anything having to do with Saturn’s moons, Titan and Enceladus.  Some psychology, a little biology.  It’s eyeballing my copy of
The Lucifer Effect” by Phillip Zimbardo, which I haven’t read yet.  What are two things I’m positive it has?  My memories of the movie “2010,” and my copy of Lovecraft’s “The Dunwich Horror.”

I think it’s safe to say it’s going to be horror.  I thought it would be a short story, but with the amount of information being hoarded, it may be a novella.  To date, I have only received a short snippet of dialogue.

“Who the fuck harvests their dead teenaged daughter’s eggs, takes them along on an exploratory mission, then mixes one with random biologic samples from some frozen moon?  That’s just…  UGH!”

Cade shrugs.  “Brilliant isn’t the same as stable.”

So, I guess I wait for the rest of the story to see where this goes, and I’m completely sure I’m in over my head.

Happy Writing, y’all!

 

 

 

Artists Are Nature’s Pinhole Cameras

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Artists are the pinhole cameras of society.  We create shadow plays of the events happening in our culture.  Sometimes the shadows are what you expect; sometimes every thing changes and moves, or even disappears.

I guess the point I’m trying to make is that ART (including fiction) is the safe place to watch the big, cosmic things happen.  You don’t need special equipment, or mechanical tricks of light and shadow.  This service we provide is a part of out nature if our voices are free.  We show you intangible things like eclipses and justice.  The feel of sunlight and hope.  Of darkness and despair.  We show you as much as we can, to the best of our ability, but also within our limits.  It’s up to you, and me, what we do with it.  We create the world we live in.

I keep forgetting to mention it, but I really do like hearing your points of view (and stories) on my various topics of writerly life.  Sometimes I’m slow on a response, or completely miss a comment, but I AM trying to make myself available as a sounding board.  It makes the whole thing seem less like self-imposed solitude.  NOBODY understands the creative weirdness of the artist/writer life like another artist/writer.  So feel free to comment, here or on Facebook.  (Twitter seems harder to follow threads, but also do-able.)

Sometimes Family Comes First

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAMeet Dexter, my latest excuse for not finishing my writing projects.  He took two days to complete from scratch, 3-D pattern-making as I went, because I couldn’t find one for sale on the internet.  The hands took five tries, but they are pose-able.

Why?  I’m glad you asked.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAHer.  When you have a child with autism, you will do anything to make her feel accepted and liked.  And when she wants to cosplay an obscure video game character named Jak, you make a soft sculpture of the sidekick, Daxter.  Because you have the skill and you make the time.  And you watch her glow under the attention of excited fans of old video games, as they ask for pictures and reminisce over their misspent youth.

You end the day exhausted but happy, without a single word written for nearly a week, because you don’t waste chances like this.

When you are a writer, you WRITE EVERY DAY YOU CAN.  But you also put it down for moments like this.  Life gives you something to write about.  Don’t forget to LIVE!

Happy writing!