Fantasy Is the Best Reality
Friday, June 26. 2009
I finally shaved my head a few weeks ago, because I stopped living in a dream world, and started living in a fantasy world.
My hair's been slowly harvested over the past twenty years or so by pan-dimensional beings who need my dead cells to power the particle deflectors they use to keep their tiny world from being destroyed by passing dust motes. That's my theory, anyway. Well, they now have to find someone else's head to strip-mine, because I've embraced the Mace Windu look. I was getting dressed up for Star Wars Weekends (SWW) at Disney's Hollywood Studios here in Orlando, and I decided that a bald head looked more Jedi-like than a closely-cropped head with twenty years of harvesting behind it.
Yes, I do wear the Jedi robes for Star Wars Weekends. It is indeed a geek sign. I don't really care, because it's fun. It's one of the few times each year when I can substitute the fantasy in my head for the reality around me, and not be put away for a very long time.
Oh, there are some funny looks. But far more often, people react positively to seeing others embrace fantasy, and help them to visualize their own. I get many requests each year to have my picture taken with guests. I even get autograph requests, and I'm never sure how to react to that. (I'm not a cast member, nor am I a member of the Rebel Legion, who do send "official" representatives to SWW each year along with the 501st, so I don't want to misrepresent myself.)
The great thing about fantasy is that no one can take it away from you. No matter what you might think about your current reality, you can always escape into fantasy, whether it be a good book, a movie, or just a daydream. The opportunities to marry fantasy and reality—to "live out" one's fantasy—are few and far between, so I'm happy to take advantage of what SWW offers me, despite what others may think.
I'm hoping there are a great number of other people out there who feel as I do, because I'm working on a business plan for a new endeavor that depends upon this desire to mix fantasy and reality. It's a concept that would make Master Windu proud. Wish I had the Jedi Council's financial backing, though. It always takes money to make fantasy a reality.
I finally shaved my head a few weeks ago, because I stopped living in a dream world, and started living in a fantasy world.
My hair's been slowly harvested over the past twenty years or so by pan-dimensional beings who need my dead cells to power the particle deflectors they use to keep their tiny world from being destroyed by passing dust motes. That's my theory, anyway. Well, they now have to find someone else's head to strip-mine, because I've embraced the Mace Windu look. I was getting dressed up for Star Wars Weekends (SWW) at Disney's Hollywood Studios here in Orlando, and I decided that a bald head looked more Jedi-like than a closely-cropped head with twenty years of harvesting behind it.
Yes, I do wear the Jedi robes for Star Wars Weekends. It is indeed a geek sign. I don't really care, because it's fun. It's one of the few times each year when I can substitute the fantasy in my head for the reality around me, and not be put away for a very long time.
Oh, there are some funny looks. But far more often, people react positively to seeing others embrace fantasy, and help them to visualize their own. I get many requests each year to have my picture taken with guests. I even get autograph requests, and I'm never sure how to react to that. (I'm not a cast member, nor am I a member of the Rebel Legion, who do send "official" representatives to SWW each year along with the 501st, so I don't want to misrepresent myself.)
The great thing about fantasy is that no one can take it away from you. No matter what you might think about your current reality, you can always escape into fantasy, whether it be a good book, a movie, or just a daydream. The opportunities to marry fantasy and reality—to "live out" one's fantasy—are few and far between, so I'm happy to take advantage of what SWW offers me, despite what others may think.
I'm hoping there are a great number of other people out there who feel as I do, because I'm working on a business plan for a new endeavor that depends upon this desire to mix fantasy and reality. It's a concept that would make Master Windu proud. Wish I had the Jedi Council's financial backing, though. It always takes money to make fantasy a reality.
My hair's been slowly harvested over the past twenty years or so by pan-dimensional beings who need my dead cells to power the particle deflectors they use to keep their tiny world from being destroyed by passing dust motes. That's my theory, anyway. Well, they now have to find someone else's head to strip-mine, because I've embraced the Mace Windu look. I was getting dressed up for Star Wars Weekends (SWW) at Disney's Hollywood Studios here in Orlando, and I decided that a bald head looked more Jedi-like than a closely-cropped head with twenty years of harvesting behind it.
Yes, I do wear the Jedi robes for Star Wars Weekends. It is indeed a geek sign. I don't really care, because it's fun. It's one of the few times each year when I can substitute the fantasy in my head for the reality around me, and not be put away for a very long time.
Oh, there are some funny looks. But far more often, people react positively to seeing others embrace fantasy, and help them to visualize their own. I get many requests each year to have my picture taken with guests. I even get autograph requests, and I'm never sure how to react to that. (I'm not a cast member, nor am I a member of the Rebel Legion, who do send "official" representatives to SWW each year along with the 501st, so I don't want to misrepresent myself.)
The great thing about fantasy is that no one can take it away from you. No matter what you might think about your current reality, you can always escape into fantasy, whether it be a good book, a movie, or just a daydream. The opportunities to marry fantasy and reality—to "live out" one's fantasy—are few and far between, so I'm happy to take advantage of what SWW offers me, despite what others may think.
I'm hoping there are a great number of other people out there who feel as I do, because I'm working on a business plan for a new endeavor that depends upon this desire to mix fantasy and reality. It's a concept that would make Master Windu proud. Wish I had the Jedi Council's financial backing, though. It always takes money to make fantasy a reality.
Tweeted Out
Monday, June 22. 2009
I think Twitter is "over."
It seems to have become mainstream and mostly noise now. The people I started out following on Twitter whom I found interesting seem to be tweeting less and less. The overall fun level is way down, too—Darth Vader has only made three tweets in the last six weeks, and Michael Scott hasn't been on Twitter in over a month.
My own little experiment with celebrity impersonation was mostly a flop. It seemed hardly worth the effort to put a lot of time and thought into being amusing for only a couple of followers, and time management eliminated any opportunities for regular updates some time ago (nearly three months). Of course, had I 30K followers like Dunder-Mifflin's dunder-boss or 90K like the Sith Lord, I wouldn't give up so quickly. Life is not a popularity contest, but Twitter is. So...
I'm walking away from Twitter. It's not "uber-cool" anymore, anyway, and I'm finding it's become more a drain on productivity than a useful or interesting diversion. Maybe I'll change my mind in future, but for now anyway..."tweet out."
I think Twitter is "over."
It seems to have become mainstream and mostly noise now. The people I started out following on Twitter whom I found interesting seem to be tweeting less and less. The overall fun level is way down, too—Darth Vader has only made three tweets in the last six weeks, and Michael Scott hasn't been on Twitter in over a month.
My own little experiment with celebrity impersonation was mostly a flop. It seemed hardly worth the effort to put a lot of time and thought into being amusing for only a couple of followers, and time management eliminated any opportunities for regular updates some time ago (nearly three months). Of course, had I 30K followers like Dunder-Mifflin's dunder-boss or 90K like the Sith Lord, I wouldn't give up so quickly. Life is not a popularity contest, but Twitter is. So...
I'm walking away from Twitter. It's not "uber-cool" anymore, anyway, and I'm finding it's become more a drain on productivity than a useful or interesting diversion. Maybe I'll change my mind in future, but for now anyway..."tweet out."
It seems to have become mainstream and mostly noise now. The people I started out following on Twitter whom I found interesting seem to be tweeting less and less. The overall fun level is way down, too—Darth Vader has only made three tweets in the last six weeks, and Michael Scott hasn't been on Twitter in over a month.
My own little experiment with celebrity impersonation was mostly a flop. It seemed hardly worth the effort to put a lot of time and thought into being amusing for only a couple of followers, and time management eliminated any opportunities for regular updates some time ago (nearly three months). Of course, had I 30K followers like Dunder-Mifflin's dunder-boss or 90K like the Sith Lord, I wouldn't give up so quickly. Life is not a popularity contest, but Twitter is. So...
I'm walking away from Twitter. It's not "uber-cool" anymore, anyway, and I'm finding it's become more a drain on productivity than a useful or interesting diversion. Maybe I'll change my mind in future, but for now anyway..."tweet out."
You've Got Questions? We've Got...More Questions.
Tuesday, June 16. 2009
I've been feeling a little guilty about my somewhat dismissive response to a good friend's comment on my last blog post. Essentially what happened is: (1) I posed a question, as is my wont in these pages; (2) Craig recommended a source for an authoritative answer; (3) I rejected the answer/source out of hand. So this leads to the thought: why do I ask questions, if not to receive answers?
What I'm really about here, on this blog, is to expand my knowledge and understanding through questioning—with the expectation of arriving at conclusions on my own. My hope is to encounter different viewpoints from the zero or so readers of this blog that I can incorporate into my own answer-seeking. What I don't expect (and tend to reject rather vehemently) is the idea that anyone has pat answers to the questions I'm asking.
I think there's a Greek word for that concept, but I don't know what it is.
Most of the things I wonder publicly about on these pages seem to me not to have a universal answer. Example: how do I connect more reliably with my muse? Craig's link leads to an instructor who says she can teach people how to do that. Er, what? How can such a nebulous concept be standardized across all writers? There may be an answer to this question for me, and when I throw a query like that out it's to get some insights as to how others have answered it, to inform my own search for a solution. But when anyone claims to have an answer that will work for me without modification, I tend to make rude dismissive noises.
There are exceptions, of course. Some of the questions here are more concrete. For example, if anyone knows what that pesky Greek term is, I'd be interested to know it. That is an answer that applies to all, because it addresses basic factual knowledge, not how the mind works, whence comes inspiration, how best to manage time, et al., ad infinitum. These last topics, in my opinion, cannot have absolute answers.
So, Dear Reader (if, in fact, you do exist and are not also a figment of my imagination), please do not hesitate to offer solutions and answers and other such comments on this blog. Just be aware that if the question posed is the least bit philosophical, and the answer offered is the least bit concrete, the scoffing will commence.
I've been feeling a little guilty about my somewhat dismissive response to a good friend's comment on my last blog post. Essentially what happened is: (1) I posed a question, as is my wont in these pages; (2) Craig recommended a source for an authoritative answer; (3) I rejected the answer/source out of hand. So this leads to the thought: why do I ask questions, if not to receive answers?
What I'm really about here, on this blog, is to expand my knowledge and understanding through questioning—with the expectation of arriving at conclusions on my own. My hope is to encounter different viewpoints from the zero or so readers of this blog that I can incorporate into my own answer-seeking. What I don't expect (and tend to reject rather vehemently) is the idea that anyone has pat answers to the questions I'm asking.
I think there's a Greek word for that concept, but I don't know what it is.
Most of the things I wonder publicly about on these pages seem to me not to have a universal answer. Example: how do I connect more reliably with my muse? Craig's link leads to an instructor who says she can teach people how to do that. Er, what? How can such a nebulous concept be standardized across all writers? There may be an answer to this question for me, and when I throw a query like that out it's to get some insights as to how others have answered it, to inform my own search for a solution. But when anyone claims to have an answer that will work for me without modification, I tend to make rude dismissive noises.
There are exceptions, of course. Some of the questions here are more concrete. For example, if anyone knows what that pesky Greek term is, I'd be interested to know it. That is an answer that applies to all, because it addresses basic factual knowledge, not how the mind works, whence comes inspiration, how best to manage time, et al., ad infinitum. These last topics, in my opinion, cannot have absolute answers.
So, Dear Reader (if, in fact, you do exist and are not also a figment of my imagination), please do not hesitate to offer solutions and answers and other such comments on this blog. Just be aware that if the question posed is the least bit philosophical, and the answer offered is the least bit concrete, the scoffing will commence.
What I'm really about here, on this blog, is to expand my knowledge and understanding through questioning—with the expectation of arriving at conclusions on my own. My hope is to encounter different viewpoints from the zero or so readers of this blog that I can incorporate into my own answer-seeking. What I don't expect (and tend to reject rather vehemently) is the idea that anyone has pat answers to the questions I'm asking.
I think there's a Greek word for that concept, but I don't know what it is.
Most of the things I wonder publicly about on these pages seem to me not to have a universal answer. Example: how do I connect more reliably with my muse? Craig's link leads to an instructor who says she can teach people how to do that. Er, what? How can such a nebulous concept be standardized across all writers? There may be an answer to this question for me, and when I throw a query like that out it's to get some insights as to how others have answered it, to inform my own search for a solution. But when anyone claims to have an answer that will work for me without modification, I tend to make rude dismissive noises.
There are exceptions, of course. Some of the questions here are more concrete. For example, if anyone knows what that pesky Greek term is, I'd be interested to know it. That is an answer that applies to all, because it addresses basic factual knowledge, not how the mind works, whence comes inspiration, how best to manage time, et al., ad infinitum. These last topics, in my opinion, cannot have absolute answers.
So, Dear Reader (if, in fact, you do exist and are not also a figment of my imagination), please do not hesitate to offer solutions and answers and other such comments on this blog. Just be aware that if the question posed is the least bit philosophical, and the answer offered is the least bit concrete, the scoffing will commence.
Interference Patterns
Monday, June 8. 2009
Orson Scott Card says that the best spec-fic stories come from the combination of at least two disparate ideas. I agree wholeheartedly, and my current effort follows exactly that paradigm.
The premise behind Bring Me to Life target="_blank" arose when I thought about the New Testament story of the man who begs Father Abraham to let him return from Hell to Earth to warn his brothers not to share his fate. There's such a character in my story—a spirit called Peter—though of course he turns out not to be exactly what he claims to be. I thought about how "wide is the gate" to Hell, and what that might mean...how about if all roads lead through Hades, i.e., it's the alternate dimension one must access to travel faster than light? There's idea #1.
Long ago I had an idea for a magic system based on music. I created a whole sourcebook of information for this milieu—the "Guitars & Gryphons" world, I called it. I'd written a few short scenes, a couple of abortive stories, in this setting, but never progressed beyond that. Why not invent a reasonable hard SF explanation for magic through music ("soniscy"), and put that magic system into a futuristic environment? There's idea #2.
My degree is in Physics (my first one, anyway), so I see these two ideas as sources of modulation on a 2D surface...all right, ripples, if one must be pedestrian. Two pebbles dropped into a pond. The interesting bits come from the interference of those two expanding wavefronts, from the ways they interact.
The challenge is to identify all the associated frequencies, all the modes. To run down these interference patterns all the way to their logical conclusions. To ensure that I've gone all the way to the "edges" of these ideas, thought them through completely along with their effects on each other and on the entire world I've created.
It's fun, this world-building through pebble-dropping. But I'm always concerned I've missed something obvious. What I probably need is a trusted spec-fic writing group off of whom I can bounce my setting notes and outline. I'm not talking about actual prose (thus my long-time go-to group Critters is not applicable). Just the world and the gross plot, for a little error-checking. Is there such a group out there? Perhaps I need to bite the bullet and finally apply to one of the writing "boot camps" and thereby build my network of like minds...
Orson Scott Card says that the best spec-fic stories come from the combination of at least two disparate ideas. I agree wholeheartedly, and my current effort follows exactly that paradigm.
The premise behind Bring Me to Life target="_blank" arose when I thought about the New Testament story of the man who begs Father Abraham to let him return from Hell to Earth to warn his brothers not to share his fate. There's such a character in my story—a spirit called Peter—though of course he turns out not to be exactly what he claims to be. I thought about how "wide is the gate" to Hell, and what that might mean...how about if all roads lead through Hades, i.e., it's the alternate dimension one must access to travel faster than light? There's idea #1.
Long ago I had an idea for a magic system based on music. I created a whole sourcebook of information for this milieu—the "Guitars & Gryphons" world, I called it. I'd written a few short scenes, a couple of abortive stories, in this setting, but never progressed beyond that. Why not invent a reasonable hard SF explanation for magic through music ("soniscy"), and put that magic system into a futuristic environment? There's idea #2.
My degree is in Physics (my first one, anyway), so I see these two ideas as sources of modulation on a 2D surface...all right, ripples, if one must be pedestrian. Two pebbles dropped into a pond. The interesting bits come from the interference of those two expanding wavefronts, from the ways they interact.
The challenge is to identify all the associated frequencies, all the modes. To run down these interference patterns all the way to their logical conclusions. To ensure that I've gone all the way to the "edges" of these ideas, thought them through completely along with their effects on each other and on the entire world I've created.
It's fun, this world-building through pebble-dropping. But I'm always concerned I've missed something obvious. What I probably need is a trusted spec-fic writing group off of whom I can bounce my setting notes and outline. I'm not talking about actual prose (thus my long-time go-to group Critters is not applicable). Just the world and the gross plot, for a little error-checking. Is there such a group out there? Perhaps I need to bite the bullet and finally apply to one of the writing "boot camps" and thereby build my network of like minds...
The premise behind Bring Me to Life target="_blank" arose when I thought about the New Testament story of the man who begs Father Abraham to let him return from Hell to Earth to warn his brothers not to share his fate. There's such a character in my story—a spirit called Peter—though of course he turns out not to be exactly what he claims to be. I thought about how "wide is the gate" to Hell, and what that might mean...how about if all roads lead through Hades, i.e., it's the alternate dimension one must access to travel faster than light? There's idea #1.
Long ago I had an idea for a magic system based on music. I created a whole sourcebook of information for this milieu—the "Guitars & Gryphons" world, I called it. I'd written a few short scenes, a couple of abortive stories, in this setting, but never progressed beyond that. Why not invent a reasonable hard SF explanation for magic through music ("soniscy"), and put that magic system into a futuristic environment? There's idea #2.
My degree is in Physics (my first one, anyway), so I see these two ideas as sources of modulation on a 2D surface...all right, ripples, if one must be pedestrian. Two pebbles dropped into a pond. The interesting bits come from the interference of those two expanding wavefronts, from the ways they interact.
The challenge is to identify all the associated frequencies, all the modes. To run down these interference patterns all the way to their logical conclusions. To ensure that I've gone all the way to the "edges" of these ideas, thought them through completely along with their effects on each other and on the entire world I've created.
It's fun, this world-building through pebble-dropping. But I'm always concerned I've missed something obvious. What I probably need is a trusted spec-fic writing group off of whom I can bounce my setting notes and outline. I'm not talking about actual prose (thus my long-time go-to group Critters is not applicable). Just the world and the gross plot, for a little error-checking. Is there such a group out there? Perhaps I need to bite the bullet and finally apply to one of the writing "boot camps" and thereby build my network of like minds...
The Meaning of Life
Sunday, June 7. 2009
In BMtL, the protag (Evan Case) is a frustrated musician. He's been occupying himself with the second and third loves of his life—archaeology and his fiancée, not necessarily in that order—rather than his first love. Much of the novel is about what his priorities are and should be. In the end, he has to make a choice.
Another character says to Evan at one point, "You have to find that One Thing you can do well and you love doing, and then spend the rest of your life doing the hell out of it." This is a central theme in the novel. It's central for me, too.
What's my own One Thing? I'm assuming it's writing, but what if it isn't? I've touched on this confidence issue before. I was thinking today about what planning I should be doing for when I'm done with the novel. When I'm done with the novel. As though I can conceive right now of ever reaching that point. But the thought of finishing fills me with trepidation, because it will mean the time has come to be judged. Once again, a probability curve will be collapsed—I'll learn what people really think of the narrative I'll have spent at least a year lovingly crafting. This is a potentially paralyzing realization.
But this is one reality I'll have to face. The sooner the better, really. Then I'll know if I'm truly following my One Thing...or if I ought to explore elsewhere.
In BMtL, the protag (Evan Case) is a frustrated musician. He's been occupying himself with the second and third loves of his life—archaeology and his fiancée, not necessarily in that order—rather than his first love. Much of the novel is about what his priorities are and should be. In the end, he has to make a choice.
Another character says to Evan at one point, "You have to find that One Thing you can do well and you love doing, and then spend the rest of your life doing the hell out of it." This is a central theme in the novel. It's central for me, too.
What's my own One Thing? I'm assuming it's writing, but what if it isn't? I've touched on this confidence issue before. I was thinking today about what planning I should be doing for when I'm done with the novel. When I'm done with the novel. As though I can conceive right now of ever reaching that point. But the thought of finishing fills me with trepidation, because it will mean the time has come to be judged. Once again, a probability curve will be collapsed—I'll learn what people really think of the narrative I'll have spent at least a year lovingly crafting. This is a potentially paralyzing realization.
But this is one reality I'll have to face. The sooner the better, really. Then I'll know if I'm truly following my One Thing...or if I ought to explore elsewhere.
Another character says to Evan at one point, "You have to find that One Thing you can do well and you love doing, and then spend the rest of your life doing the hell out of it." This is a central theme in the novel. It's central for me, too.
What's my own One Thing? I'm assuming it's writing, but what if it isn't? I've touched on this confidence issue before. I was thinking today about what planning I should be doing for when I'm done with the novel. When I'm done with the novel. As though I can conceive right now of ever reaching that point. But the thought of finishing fills me with trepidation, because it will mean the time has come to be judged. Once again, a probability curve will be collapsed—I'll learn what people really think of the narrative I'll have spent at least a year lovingly crafting. This is a potentially paralyzing realization.
But this is one reality I'll have to face. The sooner the better, really. Then I'll know if I'm truly following my One Thing...or if I ought to explore elsewhere.
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