A picture I took a while back with an old-timey digital camera, of a street tribute to one of the great philosophers of the late twentieth century. Who just happened to play a mean guitar and would compose some of the most mind-blowingly complex music ever committed to vinyl.
Incidentally, this is the only known object in Toronto’s Leslieville neighbourhood that doesn’t smack of white bread culture.
The man’s been dead for almost three full decades, yet these words still resonate today. Perhaps even more so than they did when he first said them. I see their toxic fruits strewn everywhere (like piles of antivaxxer horseshit and that ridiculous QAnonsense), and realize everything Zappa ever said about the so-called Religious Right (or as I like to call them, Vanilla ISIS) has been spot on. Their sermons and rallies just look like this to me…
Before it became common knowledge that televangelists are evil clowns who obtain their nourishment by drinking childhood fears, Zappa instinctively knew it to be true.
I’ve always been inclined to be a pantser. Both in life, and in writing. I shan’t elaborate further on how this disposition relates to the former. But the latter probably comes from Stephen King, whose 2000 how-to/autobiography On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft is a book I would highly recommend for anyone looking to take up this art for themselves. Chock full of useful tips and tricks on writing fiction, from an undisputed expert on the subject.
Sri Stephen presaged the Trump presidency when he thought up Pennywise the Dancing Clown. The man is a living Buddha.
Somewhere in the aforementioned tome, King states that he always starts a book having no idea how it’s going to end. Decisions on such matters are to be left up to the characters, who take on a life of their own as the author writes, driving the story in ways the author never anticipated.
That approach (or at least some badly misinterpreted variant thereof) is one I’ve incorporated many a time. There would be a general idea about plot devices and where the story would end up eventually, but for the most part I would take an improvisational route to writing fiction. The results were hit and miss. Making it all up as you go along is all fun and games until you end up writing yourself into a hole. But never a waste of time. There are certain genres where one must learn to play before learning to hunt…
The Environment is a character in this crazy yarn I’m currently tinkering around with. Like it tends to be in many a work of speculative fiction. All other characters and events spring from the Environment, so the Übercharacter required more fleshing out than any other character. I had to invest the time to wrestle with the Übercharacter, like a bear cub wrestling its littermate. So It could hone Itself, eventually becoming strong enough to take off.
Five and ¾ Senses 