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Best of the Blog:
The Internet for Fiction Writers: An Introduction /
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Mid-Afternoon /
I Appeared as an Extra in the Movie The Itty Bitty Titty Committee /
I Was Mugged in Broad Daylight Right Outside My Apartment /
I Rode My Bicycle at Night Through Skid Row /
I Played Softball With One of the Beastie Boys /
I Hung Out Backstage at Conan O'Brien
August 7th, 2008
 Holy crap, this is a cool book. I can’t remember the last time I was so sucked in by a story, and I took only one quick break (to sleep) between starting and finishing it, which is unusual for me. (I’m typically in the process of reading 10-20 things at any given time, so it often takes me a while to actually finish anything.) Game Informer magazine rated this the #1 video game book of all time, and the book has also been optioned for film, and it’s easy to see why. This is the gripping story of how John Romero and John Carmack, two troubled young men, turned their love of computers, science fiction novels, Dungeons & Dragons, and horror movies into a piece of software, the game Doom, that became colossally popular — more widely installed than Microsoft Windows — and of how their long, fruitful collaboration imploded in the face of money, ego, and “artistic differences.” The book doesn’t exactly gloss over anyone’s faults, but it does bend over backward to provide context and explanation, so I came out of it a bit more sympathetic than I had been to Romero, which actually isn’t saying much.
When I was in high school, my best friend was a guy named Pete. Freshman year we had sat at the same table in the lunchroom — the table of kids who spent the lunch period drawing illustrations — but at that time Pete didn’t speak much English (he’s Russian), so I didn’t get to know him all that well. A year or two later he heard that I could program computer games, and he sought me out and asked if I could teach him, which I did. While that was going on, Doom came out. It was, of course, the coolest thing that anyone had ever seen. The README file seemed to claim that you could play the game multiplayer, but it was absurdly difficult to set up. First of all you had to have two computers in the same place that were both fast enough to run Doom, which was not all that common, then you had to have a special piece of equipment called a serial cable that no one had ever heard of, then you had to futz around with command line crap to initialize different COM ports and who knows what else. I hadn’t seen anyone do it, or even heard of anyone doing it. But Pete insisted we try, so we spent a lot of time and finally got it to work. From that point on we were hooked. I remember one time my mom came back from a business trip and found me and Pete playing Doom against each other, and she said, “Wow, you’re both sitting in exactly the same places you were when I left four days ago,” and I said, “We haven’t moved.” I was joking, but just barely. Pete and I got insanely good at Doom. To brainstorm new tactics, I read book after book with titles like Case Studies in Special Operations Warfare and SWAT: Everything You Need to Train and Equip Your Team. I started building my own Doom levels, including a prison full of buttons and doors, in which the strategy revolved around sealing off different areas and ultimately locking your opponent in one of the many cells, where he could be disposed of at leisure.
Then, like a fool, I gave all that up and went off to college. By that point, John Romero, one of the creators of Doom, had left id software, the company that made the game, and was starting up his own studio, Ion Storm. Pete planned to apply for a job as a concept artist. I thought that was ridiculous. Why would a company hire some kid just out of high school when they could easily afford to hire professional comic book artists? But I kept my mouth shut, and Pete applied for the job, and got hired, not as a concept artist (for which the company did in fact hire a professional comic book artist) but as a 3D modeler. For months after Pete told me this I was half-convinced that he was pulling my leg. I mean, he had no experience whatsoever making 3D models. But it was a weird time. John Romero had tons of venture capital money, and he was trying to throw together several massive development teams all at once. His split with id software had centered partly around the issue of whether he was spending too much time playing games instead of working, or whether his coworkers were spending too much time working rather than playing games. He was determined to staff his new company with people who were gamers first and foremost, and to that end the job interview revolved primarily around whether or not you could beat him at Doom. Pete did, handily, and therefore got a job. Obviously I was extremely jealous … especially since I had always been way better at Doom than Pete.
During spring break of my freshman year of college I went to visit Pete at Ion Storm. Pete, who had always been mild-mannered and exceedingly deferential, now lived in a mansion, wore designer clothes, and when he opened his mouth a nonstop stream of profanity flowed forth. The Ion Storm offices, on the top floors of the tallest skyscraper in Dallas, were grandiose, with arcade machines, ping pong tables, a movie theater, a motion-capture studio, and over a hundred employees, almost all of them under 30. I was introduced to John Romero, which was a terrible letdown. Pete and I had practically worshiped him as a sort of demented, iconoclastic genius, and he had positioned himself as a rock star/god of the video game world. In person he was short, kind of funny-looking, and had the personality of a hyperactive 8-year-old. His laugh, which he deployed subsequent to saying anything at all, was a piercing hyena-like cackle. I immediately got the strong impression that no one at his own company could stand him, and I heard employees grumbling that instead of working he spent all day on eBay bidding on memorabilia about himself. We went out to dinner, in his fancy sports car (of which he owned something like eight), and he kind of acted like an arrogant jackass the whole time, irritating waiters and other restaurant patrons who had no idea who he was. He swore constantly, ceaselessly, relentlessly, and it seemed as if his whole nascent company had become a mirror of his own personality, with every employee screwing around and playing games and constantly trash talking. The most common salutation among employees was, “Hey, faggot.” It was like Pleasure Island, except with 20-somethings rather than children. After just a few days there I thought: Oh my god. If I had to spend more than a week here I would absolutely blow my brains out. And I saw then that Pete had adapted in the only way that he could: If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
Ion Storm was working on a game called Daikatana. I had seen a top secret design doc, which looked awesome, and I was dying to play the game. Pete had described to me the incredible AI — the fiendishly clever monsters who would hound the player over fields of boulders or through underwater caverns. When I arrived, I said, “Okay, let me see Daikatana!” Pete didn’t seem too enthused. He explained “We’re shifting over to a new engine, so there’s not all that much working right now, but … here, I think there’s one level you can play.” He loaded up a level, which was nothing special. And there were no enemies, no weapons, no game at all, really. I said, “This is all you have?” Pete said, “Yeah.” I said, “Isn’t this game supposed to be out for Christmas?” Pete said, “Uh, that’s not going to happen.” In fact it was years before Daikatana actually came out, by which point the game would have been obsolete even if it had worked, which it didn’t. The amazing AI that Pete had raved about was gone. The computer-controlled teammates who were supposed to follow you everywhere could barely navigate around corners or up ladders, which made the game basically unplayable. Apparently the guy who had programmed the awesome AI had quit, and his replacement couldn’t figure out the first guy’s code, so the company had to scrap that whole module and start over from scratch. Turnover was a huge problem at Ion Storm. At one point basically the whole development team quit en masse and left to start their own company. People in the industry used to joke that everyone who works in video games had quit Ion Storm at some point.
So anyway, I know Doom really well, and I’ve met some of the people described in this book, but even if I knew nothing about the subject I think I’d really enjoy the book, because it’s just so full of wacky characters, crazy stories, and most of all because it really captures the exhilaration of being absolutely and totally focused on a creative project and knowing that it’s going to be great. (By which I mean Doom, obviously, not Daikatana.) The book really immerses you in a magical-seeming world where everyone reads fantasy & science fiction, everyone plays Dungeons & Dragons, and everyone is creative and obsessed. And as I mentioned at the start, I am a bit more favorably inclined toward Romero after reading this book. Doom definitely wouldn’t have been the game it was without his unique personality, much as I found that personality grating at close proximity. (Though who knows how much the money & fame had contributed to it by that point.) Romero was the guy who really liked to play games. Carmack was the workaholic who really liked the abstract challenge of programming. Without Carmack, Romero spent all his time playing games and fell way behind the technological curve. But without Romero, Carmack has released a string of technologically superb games that don’t really innovate and aren’t really all that much fun. It’s an interesting dynamic. Anyway, it’s all in the book.
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August 5th, 2008
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Back in my political science-major undergrad days, I used to have the TV in my dorm room constantly tuned to CNN or C-SPAN, but in recent years I’ve completely given up watching TV news because I’ve been so disgusted at the way that national news shows just pass along whatever political figures are saying and don’t bother to analyze whether or not those statements are actually factual, let alone whether or not those statements are consistent with what that person has stated in the past. But my friend Rob recently got me hooked on Keith Olbermann’s show on MSNBC. The show is still way more bombastic and tabloid-esque than I’d really like, but in an era when I can scarcely distinguish CNN from The National Enquirer, I’ll take what I can get. At least with Keith Olbermann’s show you get the sense that there’s somebody home, and the program does a decent job at pointing out corrections to whatever new flood of bullshit has spewed forth during the previous 24 hour news cycle. One hilarious recent segment (available on YouTube) dealt with John McCain’s astounding admission that he’s just now “learning to get online.” Anyway, the previous night’s show is available daily as a free (and ad-free) video podcast, so it’s easy to give the show a try and see if it’s for you. |
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August 3rd, 2008
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Fans of my zombie horror story “The Skull-Faced Boy” may be interested to read about Rick, a young man who’s had his entire face and torso tatooed to turn him into a real-life skull-faced boy. Bizarre magazine has posted kind of an interesting interview (and photo shoot). A sampling:
So what other body modifications are you planning?
I’ve thought about getting my eyes blacked in. I’m thinking that in five years from now, if no one’s gone blind from it by then I’ll go and get my eyes tattooed black, so there’d just be big holes in my face.
Have you ever thought about having the tip of your nose removed?
Yes, and I’ve seen it before on TV. This guy had a flesh-eating disease and he was able to get his nose cut off … I was so jealous. I wanted it so bad. If I get my eyes blacked in I’ll get my nose removed.
Would you have your ears removed?
Maybe just the one … if I met someone who could remove my ear and get the right result, then that’d be cool as hell.
What effect has it had on your love life?
There are girls who dig it, but the kind of girls who dig it are usually trouble.
Do you think your life would be better or worse if you hadn’t had your tattoos done?
Actually, since having them done I’ve become a much happier and nicer person. Before, I hated pretty much everything and everybody. That’s why I got the skull tattooed on my face in the first place … But then, as time went on, I started getting all this positive feedback –- people would come up to me and say how cool they thought it looked. I started getting invited to parties and bars all the time. Strangers ask to have pictures taken with me. I’ve been having so much fun with it that life has definitely changed for the better. I honestly wouldn’t change a thing … not that I have much choice in the matter. |
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August 2nd, 2008
I’ll be going to the August 13th show. More info here.
“Sinking Ship Productions is proud to present the world premiere of There Will Come Soft Rains as part of the 11th annual New York International Fringe Festival. Using puppets, live video, light bulbs and bedsheets, Sinking Ship brings to the stage stories by Ray Bradbury, Stanislaw Lem (author of Solaris), Bill Pronzini and Barry N. Malzberg, iconic and iconoclastic masters of the genre. To bring the stark, powerful imagery of these stories to the stage, director/adaptor Jon Levin (recently singled out by nytheatre.com for his “remarkable” puppet work) uses a combination of bunraku-inspired puppets, object manipulation, dance, live music and a versatile ensemble of performers.”
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July 29th, 2008
| A lot of time was spent at the Alpha workshop sharing funny internet videos. The best of these that I saw (thanks to Joshua Cole) was Brad Neely’s George Washington music video. This lyrical sampling should give you a fair idea of the tone of the song: Here comes George, in control. Women dug his snuff and his gallant stroll. Ate opponents’ brains and invented cocaine. He’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming. You have been warned. |
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Early in the week we did a writing exercise in which we attempted to compose the worst possible first sentence. One of these entries, written in the purple prose of a bad romance novel, contained the phrase “marble Adonis,” which became a running joke at the workshop. (We also established, based on the popularity of various students’ contributions, that the ideal opening line for this group was: “Having a zombie penguin pound a stake through your forehead isn’t as much fun as it sounds.”) At the group reading at Barnes & Noble, I read my story “Red Road,” which seemed to go over extremely well. (The audience burst into spontaneous cheers during my dramatic rendition of Francis’ climactic soliloquy.) The story describes Francis thusly: “It was true what mice said — Francis, with his thick tawny fur and large, imposing ears, was the tallest and most handsome mouse in all of Kingsburrow.” Some students then got it into their heads that Francis was the mousely equivalent of a “marble Adonis,” and they started referring to him as the “marble Adonimouse,” which inspired Lara Donnelly’s illustration (below), which I think is my first-ever piece of a fan art.
Like many writers, I spend a lot of time daydreaming, so I’m often pretty oblivious to my surroundings. At the first couple meals in the cafeteria, I grabbed a few bananas to take back to my room to snack on. I then lost count of how many bananas I’d actually collected, and where exactly I’d deposited them, and I ended up with way too many bananas — to the extent that my room acquired the distinctively cloying odor of browning bananas, and I started joking that I was having nightmares in which I was being chased down and smothered by sinister ambulatory bananas. I kept snacking on my stash of bananas throughout the week. Toward the end of the workshop, one of the students, Devon Wong, asked me, “Hey, have you noticed any bananas appearing in your suite?” I replied, “Huh?” Devon said, “Because all week, as a joke, we’ve been planting bananas in your suite — on the counter, on the desk in your bedroom — every time you step out, and we’ve been waiting for you to say something, but you never have, so we weren’t sure whether you were psyching us out or whether you could have really not noticed.” I said, “No, I hadn’t noticed. But come on, I had a ton of bananas in there already, so it’s not like I would really notice a few more.” To which Devon replied, “Yeah, but we’ve planted a lot more than just a few. I put five in there, and other people have been doing it too.” I said, “Wow. No, I guess I’ve just been eating them all. But thanks for getting those for me.”
Devon also seems to have started up a not-entirely-serious fan club for me over on Facebook. This fan club describes itself as: “The official DBK fan group on facebook. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, especially not DBK. DBK is one of the newest and freshest voices in sf/f. His work combines madness, whimsy, heart, and often talking animals, and other things that talk when they really have no right at all to be talking. Members of this group know the exploits of King Francis, we worship at the altar of Cat, and those of us with our virginity intact fear dragons.”
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July 29th, 2008
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| In case there’s anyone I missed showing this book to, here’s me with a copy of Fantasy: The Best of the Year 2008, which glows from within with the light of its own awesomeness. |
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| It gets a little embarrassing sometimes how Karina hangs on my every word. |
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| You ever get that feeling like you just want to take off your con badge and whip someone with it? |
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July 28th, 2008
In the dealers room at Confluence I found a copy of Fantasy: The Best of the Year 2008, which includes my story “Save Me Plz” (alongside stories by authors such as Garth Nix, Karen Joy Fowler, Kelly Link, Andy Duncan, Ian R. MacLeod, Theodora Goss, Daniel Abraham, and Rachel Swirsky). So … the book is out, it’s real. My first year’s best appearance. Very exciting.
Edmund Schubert has updated the blog for Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show with my essay about how I conceived and wrote my short story “Red Road.”
And here’s a really nice blog post by Lisa Marie Andrews about my story “The Skull-Faced Boy”:
We’ve all heard the same old zombie spiel over and over again. Zombies rise. They are hungry. Living people run and hide before rising up and stomping zombie butt. (Well, some of the time.) What happens, though, when there is a zombie overlord? What happens when some of the zombies are the living dead with a mind still intact? Is there actually an original zombie story left out there? Well, I’ll answer that last question … YES! And this is it!
One of the first things to pop into my mind after hearing this is that this story would make a perfect episode of The Twilight Zone. A very good episode of The Twilight Zone. This is also probably one of the only zombie … well, anything! … that does not have massive amounts of gore flying around and detailed descriptions of mauling. Is there zombie grossness? Of course. But this guy has finesse!
I’ll be looking up more of this author and I highly recommend heading over to Pseudopod and downloading the audible version, as the reading was also excellent.
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July 28th, 2008
Today was certainly better than yesterday, but also contained its share of headaches. The hotel room alarm clock didn’t go off, the automatic wake-up call never arrived, and the hotel’s ISP booted my laptop at around 5:00 a.m., killing the online alarm clock I had running. Fortunately I just happened to wake up in time, though really there turned out not to be any rush, since today’s flight was delayed too. I was also irritated to note that the food I carefully packed away has been fraternizing with the other contents of my luggage. Blurgh.
Anyway, I’m back in New York now.
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July 28th, 2008
Ah, the convenience of modern air travel. Today I attempted to fly from Pittsburgh to New York, but only made it as far as Philadelphia. My trip so far has included: 1 hour spent sitting on the runway prior to takeoff; upon discovering that my flight to New York had been cancelled, 1 hour spent waiting to talk to a gate agent, only to be told that I needed to be standing in a different line; 2 hours spent standing in the correct line, where I was given a new ticket and a piece of paper that was clearly designed to trick you into thinking that it’s a hotel voucher when in fact the airline is not giving you jack; 1 hour spent standing in line to check into the hotel — along with all the other suckers brandishing their worthless pseudo-vouchers.
More tomorrow!
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July 14th, 2008
Hellboy II was fun. I have only vague recollections of the first one, which I recall being surprisingly interesting but ultimately sort of a letdown. I was expecting this one to have awesome visuals but to not make much sense and to get annoying by the third act. And the visuals were indeed awesome, but I actually thought the script was pretty good. The elf prince stole the show for me. The movie did eventually devolve into formula and illogic, but the ending was briskly paced enough that I didn’t get too restless. Based on the credits, it looked as if the creator of the graphic novel worked on the movie, which is something I wish happened more often. (When I saw the trailer for Wanted, I thought: There’s no way in hell I’m watching this movie. Then it said, “Based on the graphic novel,” and I thought: Hmm. Well, maybe I’ll give it a chance — though I still haven’t. But it’s been really striking to me how much stronger the writing is in most modern graphic novels compared to most new original screenplays.)
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