My run of ‘second readings’ continues with my Flash Fiction story called Lady Luck. This has been held over for second reading with Raven Electrik, a small magazine that buys enough stories for a year. She says that second reading means that we’ve lowered the odds to about 2 to 1. I’m assuming I’ll hear back sometime in May…
Tap-tap-tap (that’s the sound of me working in my Mom’s kitchen on my laptop). Tap-tap-tap.
Damn, I forgot how LOUD apartment life is. Why, I can hear people walking around, I can hear them taking a shower. Odd how they have a shower right above my mom’s kitchen. And even stranger how the water sounds like it’s right inside the walls.
You’d think that the workers would’ve insulated those pipes as a sound barrier because that’s just annoying.
Tap-tap-tap.
Okay, now I’m really on edge (not that I wasn’t before). This is just ridiculous.
Ignore it. Ignore it. Pull out something from the Buddhism to give me peace. I know, the Third Noble Truth: Suffering will cease when a person can rid himself of all desires.
But my desire is to END that freaking water.
Drip-drip.
Huh. That’s kind of weird.
Hey, look, I can see the drywall seam. Hey, the paint on the wall is bubbling. Where’d all the water on the floor come from?
You see, I was right. Yay, I was right! There is water in the walls…and the ceiling, and the floor.
Was is the drip becoming a stream? Why is the drywall beginning to bow?
Quick, call someone, I thought. No problem, every time I have a problem, I call the one person that can always help me.
Damn it — my Mom isn’t answering the phone.
Okay, think. What would SHE do?
Would she cry? No, I don’t think so. Watch TV? No — simply because her TV is so damn small (seriously, is that a Nintendo Gameboy she watches?). She’d call the landlord.
I call the Landlord.
“What apartment are you?”
“601,” I reply.
“You’re parked in the wrong spot.”
“My ceiling is raining.”
“You were in 73 and you should’ve been in 74. The person from 73 had to park in YOUR spot last night.”
“Flood.”
“Those spots are there for a reason.”
“Water.”
“Next time you’ll be towed.”
I now have my umbrella out. Finally, she comes to the apartment.
“That’s a lot of water.”
“Yes.”
“There shouldn’t be a lot of water.”
“No.”
Turns out that someone had a washing machine above…and the hose burst. Lots and lots of water.
That wasn’t in pipes.
Buddhism never taught me how to deal with exploding washers.
Screw it — I’m becoming a Muslim.
I love the book Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff. It’s helped me become a better person (well, nicer person) over the years. It’s helped me be less assertive about my opinions (mine are right, yours are wrong), road rage (though I mostly figured this one out on my own).
But here’s one I recently road (I go through it every once in a while).
It’s 53 – See the Glass as Already Broken.
It says: Everything has a beginning and everything has an end….Every rock is formed, and every rock will vanish….when you expect something to break, you’re not surprised or disappointed when it does. Instead of becoming immobilized when something is destroyed, you are grateful for the time that you had.
Fitting.
With my upcoming fight at UFC 83 (I’m on the under-under card) I’m frantically trying to make weight. It’s been a tough slog — saunas, marathons, hookers…but it looks like I might beat the damn scales.
I’ve lost an inch on my waistline. That’s good because the UFC gives bonuses for fighters who aren’t jello. An inch off the waistline, and a notch off the belt (not to be confused with the notches on my bed posts).
I’m hoping if I put on a really good show for the fans on Saturday night at the Bell Centre, that I might be promoted on an upcoming card — something like ‘semi-jello fighters attack’ or something cool sounding like that.
Only three more sleeps until GSP!
I made a small discovery a few weeks ago — but one that might help me target agents and publishers a little more effectively. Whenever asked what genre Curse of the Black Swan would fit in, I’d say Fantasy. But that’s a big genre. Just like there are multiple sub-genres of mystery (hard-boiled, procedural, detective) there are sub-genres of fantasy.
For several of my books, they were World Affairs where the focus was on world-endangering matters. They were considered Epic, or High Fantasy. Simple enough. But with Curse of the Black Swan, the story was his personal journey — where the world affairs effected him, not the other way around.
The closest I’d found would be Scott Lynch’s Lies of Locke Lamora. Very close to what I’d done. My main character, Nathaniel, was like The Man With No Name, Han Solo, Indiana Jones, Jake (from China Town), James Bond, and other swashbuckling characters rolled into one. A scoundrel, a thief, a lover…
But I still couldn’t define what it was. I happened upon a description in Wikiepedia: S&S is a fantasy subgenre generally characterized by swashbuckling heroes engaged in exciting and violent conflicts. An element of romance is often present, as is an element of magic and the supernatural.
Interesting. Because I thought S&S usually equated to ‘crap’. I must be wrong. Wait, let me keep reading…
Sword and sorcery has more colloquially come to be known as a catch-all phrase for low grade, derivative fantasy such as that which played a seminal role in influencing Dungeons & Dragons and other fantasy role-playing games, as well as fiction written in such universes.
The term continues to be used in a derogatory manner amongst writers and readers of the fantasy genre.
Huh. So what I write is crap. Okay, simple enough — don’t mention S&S…but use the term to help me find agents and publishers…
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