I actually was published in a book one time. I don't know if it was my first published story (or my last), but I once wrote a short piece about a dog barking at something in my house, something I could not see. It was inspired by something that happened when I was a child (that I think I've told many, many times), and was one of my few brushes with the unknown I remember fondly.
My sister went camping this weekend, and was unwilling to take her yappy little dog with her, so I got saddled with dogsitting. She didn't ask if this was okay, merely sent me a text that said I was watching the dog and it was already at my place, so have fun.
I have grown pretty intolerant of that dog (who I referred to as an "it" in the last paragraph, but will now refer to as "she" from here on out), since she is old and whines a lot. I realize that I am not yet old, and whine just as much, but you know how it is.
So, it was around 3:45 in the morning, and I was trying to sleep, when the dog began to bark. I had left the door to my room open, and got up to investigate. The little dog was standing at the top of the stairs, barking and growling at something down there, in the darkness.
Well, this gave me pause. I turned on a light, and the dog stopped barking, but kept growling low in her throat, all the while looking downward. I went back to my room and got my baseball bat (this I bought it Los Angeles after my apartment was broken into time and time again, and sadly, has never been used for either baseball or beating miscreants). I walked down the stairs, quietly, telling my imagination to do me the favor of not projecting the image into my mind of a leering old man or a ghostly screaming woman standing there in the dark.
To make a short story shorter, I saw nothing, and no one lurking outside or in the house, or any reason the dog would have to freak out like that. She doesn't bark at the mailman or thunder or garbage trucks or Jehovah's Witnesses (a pity that), but something at quarter to four in the morning did get her barking. I'm almost disappointed I don't have a cool, index finger outstretched ending to this tale. A warning that animals can see or sense more than we can, or that the evil spirits are furious about DOMA being struck down.
But it's better I found nothing, in the long run.
Rish Outfield, Paranormal Ignoricator
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Friday, June 28, 2013
Rish performs "Unholy Womb & Other Halloween Tales" on Audible.com
I haven't done one of these plugs in a while. Whoops.
A few weeks back, I contacted Steven E. Wedel, the author of a short story collection I narrated, to see if he'd let me run a story from the book on the Dunesteef, and he was amenable. I picked the title story "Unholy Womb," and presented it unchanged from how it appears in the book, which is now available for sale at Audible.
The collection itself features scary five stories, all taking place on Halloween.
"Unholy Womb" tells the tale of a youth who picks up a pair of pumpkins from a local farmer, only to find they're part of a sinister Halloween trick.
"The Halloween Feast" has a man who recently lost his wife and child invited to a costume party where the dead share drinks with the living.
"SKN-3" is about a modern day mad scientist in an inner city neighborhood, doing what mad scientists do best.
"Hungry Is The Night" is a lovely tale wherein a small-time reporter starts hearing about some strange incidents, and discovers the local sheriff has been getting similar calls, leading to the suspicion that something otherworldy has entered their little town.
And in "Scream of Humanity," a nineteenth century doctor is called on to deliver a baby (from another unholy womb), but is given advice on what to do if the child comes out . . . wrong.
As I've said in these pages, some of the projects I've taken on were a pain in the taint, and some were a bit more fun. This one was a pleasure from beginning to end, and sometimes I worry that this'll be the exception rather than the rule.
You can head over to Dunesteef.com and listen to the first story for free (if you don't like that one, you won't like the rest of them), or throw down a few bucks to listen to the whole thing. Either way, Halloween wins.
Rish Outfield, Audiobook Narrator
A few weeks back, I contacted Steven E. Wedel, the author of a short story collection I narrated, to see if he'd let me run a story from the book on the Dunesteef, and he was amenable. I picked the title story "Unholy Womb," and presented it unchanged from how it appears in the book, which is now available for sale at Audible.
The collection itself features scary five stories, all taking place on Halloween.
"Unholy Womb" tells the tale of a youth who picks up a pair of pumpkins from a local farmer, only to find they're part of a sinister Halloween trick.
"The Halloween Feast" has a man who recently lost his wife and child invited to a costume party where the dead share drinks with the living.
"SKN-3" is about a modern day mad scientist in an inner city neighborhood, doing what mad scientists do best.
"Hungry Is The Night" is a lovely tale wherein a small-time reporter starts hearing about some strange incidents, and discovers the local sheriff has been getting similar calls, leading to the suspicion that something otherworldy has entered their little town.
And in "Scream of Humanity," a nineteenth century doctor is called on to deliver a baby (from another unholy womb), but is given advice on what to do if the child comes out . . . wrong.
As I've said in these pages, some of the projects I've taken on were a pain in the taint, and some were a bit more fun. This one was a pleasure from beginning to end, and sometimes I worry that this'll be the exception rather than the rule.
You can head over to Dunesteef.com and listen to the first story for free (if you don't like that one, you won't like the rest of them), or throw down a few bucks to listen to the whole thing. Either way, Halloween wins.
Rish Outfield, Audiobook Narrator
Monday, June 17, 2013
Audiobook Adventures: Post Twenty
Don't know if it's week twenty (actually, I think I've missed two or more now), but this is the twentieth post, so that's pretty cool, I guess.
But I sort of want to, and don't at the same time. Weird.
It's hard to write. You have to make things up from your own mind and imagination, but then you have to be savvy enough to see what works and what doesn't work, and figure out a way to fix the things that don't. Good thing I'm not a writer, huh?
I started editing that SF book I mentioned finishing last time. Today I discovered that, in a scene about the prow of a boat, I referred to it as the "pro of the boat" one time. Dumb, but hopefully understandable. And rather than re-record that sentence or paragraph with the correct pronunciation, I decided to go through the other uses of the word in the chapter (where I said it correctly) and try and paste them into the sentence over my use of "pro." Dumb, but even I don't understand that.
. . .
Alright, the other thing I said I could talk about. I'm worried that it'll make me sound like a bit of a tool if I talk about it (or maybe not even "a bit" of one). But I gotta fill these blogs with something.
So, I got another statement from Audible, breaking down my sales and all the royalties I supposedly earned in the month of April. It wasn't a lot, but it was slightly more than what I supposedly made in March. I use the word "supposedly" because I have yet to get a check out of them. The first month, I looked at the fine print and it said that any royalties that are less than fifty dollars do not merit them sending out a check, so I thought, alright, I can understand that. But here we are a month later, and still nothing.
I thought they might not have my tax information, so I triple-checked, and it is there, since January. I'm not really complaining--okay, I totally am, but I warned you about the tool thing--but I did get into this as a way of earning money, even if it was fun at first. But a sprawling, poorly-written horror novel, and worse, a Christian-themed YA book with less of a feel for American teen life than Kim Jong Un would have, well, those felt like work. You know?
I really have nothing to say this week, and posted nothing in a while. Actually though, there are two things I
could talk about. The first is that I finally, after revision after revision,
had one of my projects accepted by the writer, and I can put it behind me. It's sad that, because human nature is what it is, we tend to talk a lot more about the things we don't like than the things we do, but I will try not to say anything more about this one. You know what I mean.
But I sort of want to, and don't at the same time. Weird.
It's hard to write. You have to make things up from your own mind and imagination, but then you have to be savvy enough to see what works and what doesn't work, and figure out a way to fix the things that don't. Good thing I'm not a writer, huh?
I started editing that SF book I mentioned finishing last time. Today I discovered that, in a scene about the prow of a boat, I referred to it as the "pro of the boat" one time. Dumb, but hopefully understandable. And rather than re-record that sentence or paragraph with the correct pronunciation, I decided to go through the other uses of the word in the chapter (where I said it correctly) and try and paste them into the sentence over my use of "pro." Dumb, but even I don't understand that.
. . .
Alright, the other thing I said I could talk about. I'm worried that it'll make me sound like a bit of a tool if I talk about it (or maybe not even "a bit" of one). But I gotta fill these blogs with something.
So, I got another statement from Audible, breaking down my sales and all the royalties I supposedly earned in the month of April. It wasn't a lot, but it was slightly more than what I supposedly made in March. I use the word "supposedly" because I have yet to get a check out of them. The first month, I looked at the fine print and it said that any royalties that are less than fifty dollars do not merit them sending out a check, so I thought, alright, I can understand that. But here we are a month later, and still nothing.
I thought they might not have my tax information, so I triple-checked, and it is there, since January. I'm not really complaining--okay, I totally am, but I warned you about the tool thing--but I did get into this as a way of earning money, even if it was fun at first. But a sprawling, poorly-written horror novel, and worse, a Christian-themed YA book with less of a feel for American teen life than Kim Jong Un would have, well, those felt like work. You know?
Regardless, I do plan on editing the SciFi book I finished recording this
week, and I imagine they will pay me eventually. Right?
I wonder how long I should wait before I start to worry that something is wrong.*
As I've said--often?--the SF book is the first in a series, and I recorded the whole book through to the end, and will wait until it's completely edited before I start on the second book. I'm slowly, but surely, editing that book, at the astounding rate of about two chapters a week. I think I may have burned myself out, at least for a little while. Either that, or I'm even lazier than I remembered being. Probably both.
I hope I get a second wind soon, or by the time I crack book number two (of at least five), I'll have forgotten what the characters sound like.
Hell, maybe I should stop blogging and edit the darn thing.
Rish Outfield, Serial Procrastinator
*My gut tells me, "Oh, a month ago."
I wonder how long I should wait before I start to worry that something is wrong.*
As I've said--often?--the SF book is the first in a series, and I recorded the whole book through to the end, and will wait until it's completely edited before I start on the second book. I'm slowly, but surely, editing that book, at the astounding rate of about two chapters a week. I think I may have burned myself out, at least for a little while. Either that, or I'm even lazier than I remembered being. Probably both.
I hope I get a second wind soon, or by the time I crack book number two (of at least five), I'll have forgotten what the characters sound like.
Hell, maybe I should stop blogging and edit the darn thing.
Rish Outfield, Serial Procrastinator
*My gut tells me, "Oh, a month ago."
Friday, June 14, 2013
Babysitter of . . . meh
So, I've been trying to encourage my two year old nephew to use the pottychair instead of his diaper whenever I think of it, and encourage my five year old nephew to try to read instead of his diaper-equivalent (which, I suppose, would be watching "Spongebob," or something similar) whenever I think of it. It's easy to remember to ask if someone needs to go to the bathroom, but I rarely remember that the boy should be reading, or at least trying to.
Every once in a while, we'll be driving somewhere, and we'll pass a sign that says "Stop" or "Target" or "Open" or "Live Nude Girls," and I'll try to get the boy to sound out the word. More often than not, he'll check out the first couple of letters, then guess what the word is based on that, which teachers say is a logical way most kids first start to read.
Unfortunately, that backfired on me this week when we went to the amusement park, and I saw a sign that said "Fun!" by one of the rides. I asked the boy to read that word to his mother.
"Fff," he said, then "Uhh," and yep, he tried to guess the rest of the word. It was not "fun."
His mother's eyes got big and she said, "WHAT was that?"
I thought it was hilarious, but I was also glad it was the boy's mother he had said it to, and not my own.
Rish Outfield, Contributor to the Delinquency of Minors
Every once in a while, we'll be driving somewhere, and we'll pass a sign that says "Stop" or "Target" or "Open" or "Live Nude Girls," and I'll try to get the boy to sound out the word. More often than not, he'll check out the first couple of letters, then guess what the word is based on that, which teachers say is a logical way most kids first start to read.
Unfortunately, that backfired on me this week when we went to the amusement park, and I saw a sign that said "Fun!" by one of the rides. I asked the boy to read that word to his mother.
"Fff," he said, then "Uhh," and yep, he tried to guess the rest of the word. It was not "fun."
His mother's eyes got big and she said, "WHAT was that?"
I thought it was hilarious, but I was also glad it was the boy's mother he had said it to, and not my own.
Rish Outfield, Contributor to the Delinquency of Minors
Sunday, June 09, 2013
Driving In Cars With Jeff
So, I went on a little trip with Jeff this week, to see Sting in concert yet again. I can't remember what the Brits call it, a mini-holiday or something (for every stupid word like "bonnet" or "tyre," they have two clever and exotic-sounding words like "flat" and "lift" and "defenestration." But I'm already digressing). We left on Tuesday and came back on Thursday, so it wasn't long, but I thought it went extremely well, and we got along, despite the fact that he's from Hoth and I'm from Tatooine.
Jeff and I have been friends for over twenty years, and it's sort of strange that we continue to be friends, because he is very, very smart, and I am often not-so-smart. He gets up at six in the morning without the use of an alarm, and I am typing this at 2:31am with no plans for quitting anytime soon. Jeff got married young, and I will never, ever be loved. Jeff reads novels for pleasure, I can't even be arsed to read comic books anymore. Jeff wants to live in some of the drearier places in Northern England, and I'd prefer some place near the ocean, even if there's smog and crime and people working the register at Chinese restaurants who only speak Spanish. Jeff hates the heat, and I hate the cold, but betwixt the both of us, we lick the platter clean, I suppose.
It was a pleasant, uneventful drive, with a ton of conversation, some of it much deeper than we usually get, discussing life, religion, GLBT tendencies, and death rituals. But we still talked about the New Mutants and exactly what powers the Scarlet Witch has, so some things never change.
At one point on the trip, Jeff said he checked my blog to see if I'd written about the vacation, and it made me feel guilty, because I hadn't really intended to. We had that aforementioned private conversation on the drive, and I wasn't about to share that will the absolutely no one who reads this, and the concert itself wasn't especially memorable, even if the venue was. To be honest, I got an idea for a short story, and spent all my blog time writing it on my brother's laptop. You'll probably hear that story in August, so it's good I didn't wait till the deadline to write it*, even though it meant I did no blogging.
The concert was in Denver, at the Red Rocks Amphitheater, which is up in the mountains, surrounded by rocks that are, ironically-enough, orange. We parked in a big gravel lot, then had to walk, what, half a continent to get to where the concert would be. Jeff and I like to walk, so it wasn't so bad, but there was an endless wall of stairs to get up there,** causing poor Jeff to sweat profusely, even though it was only fifty-four degrees out, which to me is an iceberg.
As we climbed the stairs, friendly hippies gave away something like Larabar Cashew Cookies to anybody that wanted one, but Jeff shook his head wildly and refused. I didn’t understand his nearly-hysterical reaction, since I was raised to greedily accept anything that is free, but Jeff explained that Larabars are made from something thick that is harvested in French Canada from the rectums of the elderly and the mentally ill. Jeff has done his research, that I can guarantee you.
It was kind of an amazing locale, with the rock formations enclosing us, and a distant view of the Mile-High City in the horizon (though it was too cloudy to see much of Denver that night). The people around us brought cameras, as well as drinks, blankets, booze, binoculars, and something that looked like the cross between a Slurpie and booze. I would've taken several pictures if I had thought to bring a camera, and the way my phone works is that I have to delete one of the ten pictures it already has in it to take another one.
Sting sang his usual songs, and no mention was made of his new album or tracks from it, despite it having been announced the night before our show. That was kind of disappointing, but we had bought the tickets not knowing there was a new album in the works at all. The crowd was mostly older folks--which I suppose I'm lumped in with now--but the woman who stood next to me was constantly sending text messages on her phone instead of watching the show, just like a young person.
Afterward, we hiked down the stairs and hill, even though it was now dark, and sat waiting for cars to inch their way out of the various lots. But that sort of thing usually doesn't bother me much, since it is part of the price you pay for going to a concert or a ballgame.
Mostly what we did on the trip was drive, whether to find food, a movie theater, food, the Mile High Comics warehouse we read about as children (we didn't end up finding it), food, gas stations, and places to eat.
We made this same trip in November of 2011, and driving through the town of Fruita, there were these dead-looking trees that were so beautiful, I wanted to dance around them wearing only a loincloth (or less). I had taken a couple of pictures on the return trip, but they didn't do them justice, and this time through, I had my camera in the suitcase, so I could only look. It's summer/spring now, so the trees looked totally different, but still beautiful.
Sometimes we talked, sometimes we just sat in silence, listening to music. Jeff played a song for me by a dude called Flowers, that I'd never heard before, and I've now listened to it about eighteen times. But more on that later.
In 2011, we stopped in the city of Grand Junction, Colorado, and I told Jeff that I want to live there one day. He wants Ireland, I want this town on I-70 where I liked the Target store. This year, we stopped there for gas, and it didn't even occur to me we were in the same town. I can't even remember why I liked it so much. It sucks to give up on your dreams.
Like when I realized I would never ever marry that girl from "Just the Ten of Us."
Last trip, it was winter and so it was dark when we drove through the desert, but this year, I actually got to see some amazing rock formations and buttes/mesas on the drive back. They were amazing (or a better word than my second use of "amazing"), looking a lot like those mountains they drive on in CARS, during the romantic subplot, and I realized, in talking with Jeff, that I had no idea how they got there. I didn't even know if they happened over centuries or all at once. It also sucks to have a brain that only retains funny voices and quotes from "Leave It To Beaver," and not useful information or science.
The other thing I wanted to blog about, and it's a little thing, really, is that Jeff was driving and I looked at his iPod and discovered that he had a playlist there with my name on it. But it wasn't a grouping of my favorite songs or songs we first heard together, but the exact opposite sort of thing: songs Jeff likes and was sure I'd despise. I sort of got to choose the music when he was driving, but once I got behind the wheel, that playlist went right on.
Jeff seems to have gotten pleasure out my negative reaction on one of the songs, so he played through all thirty-nine tracks in the playlist, keeping a kind of score as to how right he was. It was filled to bursting with Florence & the Machine and something called The Wombats (neither of which I really despise), but there was only one Foster the People song in the whole bunch. As each track played he'd ask for my verdict, and it turned out that there were only six points in Jeff's favor on there (four songs I hated, and four songs I didn't care for that he gave a half a point to). I told him the Foster the People song could count for five points, but he didn't think that was fair.
It struck me as either really twisted or really kind of endearing that Jeff would create a playlist of songs to annoy me, and it's the same that he was talking about us making that same trip again in a year or so. The worst thing was, when I asked him how much I owed him for the tickets and hotel room, he told me, "Happy birthday."
Last time, I believe he said "Merry Christmas."
I'm reminded of the ending of THE NAKED GUN, when Priscilla Presley says to Frank Drebin, "Everyone deserves a friend like you." And in the background, poor O.J. Simpson is violently injured yet again.
Good times.
Rish Outfield, Police Squad!
*And now I can leave it alone for a month and look at it again when I'm no longer close to it. That's always a good idea. That and reading the damn thing aloud. Put that on my tombstone.
**Right past where our seats were, the stairs continued to a tunnel, where Shelob waits for unfortunates to come near. She's always hungry, Precious.
Jeff and I have been friends for over twenty years, and it's sort of strange that we continue to be friends, because he is very, very smart, and I am often not-so-smart. He gets up at six in the morning without the use of an alarm, and I am typing this at 2:31am with no plans for quitting anytime soon. Jeff got married young, and I will never, ever be loved. Jeff reads novels for pleasure, I can't even be arsed to read comic books anymore. Jeff wants to live in some of the drearier places in Northern England, and I'd prefer some place near the ocean, even if there's smog and crime and people working the register at Chinese restaurants who only speak Spanish. Jeff hates the heat, and I hate the cold, but betwixt the both of us, we lick the platter clean, I suppose.
It was a pleasant, uneventful drive, with a ton of conversation, some of it much deeper than we usually get, discussing life, religion, GLBT tendencies, and death rituals. But we still talked about the New Mutants and exactly what powers the Scarlet Witch has, so some things never change.
At one point on the trip, Jeff said he checked my blog to see if I'd written about the vacation, and it made me feel guilty, because I hadn't really intended to. We had that aforementioned private conversation on the drive, and I wasn't about to share that will the absolutely no one who reads this, and the concert itself wasn't especially memorable, even if the venue was. To be honest, I got an idea for a short story, and spent all my blog time writing it on my brother's laptop. You'll probably hear that story in August, so it's good I didn't wait till the deadline to write it*, even though it meant I did no blogging.
The concert was in Denver, at the Red Rocks Amphitheater, which is up in the mountains, surrounded by rocks that are, ironically-enough, orange. We parked in a big gravel lot, then had to walk, what, half a continent to get to where the concert would be. Jeff and I like to walk, so it wasn't so bad, but there was an endless wall of stairs to get up there,** causing poor Jeff to sweat profusely, even though it was only fifty-four degrees out, which to me is an iceberg.
As we climbed the stairs, friendly hippies gave away something like Larabar Cashew Cookies to anybody that wanted one, but Jeff shook his head wildly and refused. I didn’t understand his nearly-hysterical reaction, since I was raised to greedily accept anything that is free, but Jeff explained that Larabars are made from something thick that is harvested in French Canada from the rectums of the elderly and the mentally ill. Jeff has done his research, that I can guarantee you.
It was kind of an amazing locale, with the rock formations enclosing us, and a distant view of the Mile-High City in the horizon (though it was too cloudy to see much of Denver that night). The people around us brought cameras, as well as drinks, blankets, booze, binoculars, and something that looked like the cross between a Slurpie and booze. I would've taken several pictures if I had thought to bring a camera, and the way my phone works is that I have to delete one of the ten pictures it already has in it to take another one.
Sting sang his usual songs, and no mention was made of his new album or tracks from it, despite it having been announced the night before our show. That was kind of disappointing, but we had bought the tickets not knowing there was a new album in the works at all. The crowd was mostly older folks--which I suppose I'm lumped in with now--but the woman who stood next to me was constantly sending text messages on her phone instead of watching the show, just like a young person.
Afterward, we hiked down the stairs and hill, even though it was now dark, and sat waiting for cars to inch their way out of the various lots. But that sort of thing usually doesn't bother me much, since it is part of the price you pay for going to a concert or a ballgame.
Mostly what we did on the trip was drive, whether to find food, a movie theater, food, the Mile High Comics warehouse we read about as children (we didn't end up finding it), food, gas stations, and places to eat.
We made this same trip in November of 2011, and driving through the town of Fruita, there were these dead-looking trees that were so beautiful, I wanted to dance around them wearing only a loincloth (or less). I had taken a couple of pictures on the return trip, but they didn't do them justice, and this time through, I had my camera in the suitcase, so I could only look. It's summer/spring now, so the trees looked totally different, but still beautiful.
Sometimes we talked, sometimes we just sat in silence, listening to music. Jeff played a song for me by a dude called Flowers, that I'd never heard before, and I've now listened to it about eighteen times. But more on that later.
In 2011, we stopped in the city of Grand Junction, Colorado, and I told Jeff that I want to live there one day. He wants Ireland, I want this town on I-70 where I liked the Target store. This year, we stopped there for gas, and it didn't even occur to me we were in the same town. I can't even remember why I liked it so much. It sucks to give up on your dreams.
Like when I realized I would never ever marry that girl from "Just the Ten of Us."
Last trip, it was winter and so it was dark when we drove through the desert, but this year, I actually got to see some amazing rock formations and buttes/mesas on the drive back. They were amazing (or a better word than my second use of "amazing"), looking a lot like those mountains they drive on in CARS, during the romantic subplot, and I realized, in talking with Jeff, that I had no idea how they got there. I didn't even know if they happened over centuries or all at once. It also sucks to have a brain that only retains funny voices and quotes from "Leave It To Beaver," and not useful information or science.
The other thing I wanted to blog about, and it's a little thing, really, is that Jeff was driving and I looked at his iPod and discovered that he had a playlist there with my name on it. But it wasn't a grouping of my favorite songs or songs we first heard together, but the exact opposite sort of thing: songs Jeff likes and was sure I'd despise. I sort of got to choose the music when he was driving, but once I got behind the wheel, that playlist went right on.
Jeff seems to have gotten pleasure out my negative reaction on one of the songs, so he played through all thirty-nine tracks in the playlist, keeping a kind of score as to how right he was. It was filled to bursting with Florence & the Machine and something called The Wombats (neither of which I really despise), but there was only one Foster the People song in the whole bunch. As each track played he'd ask for my verdict, and it turned out that there were only six points in Jeff's favor on there (four songs I hated, and four songs I didn't care for that he gave a half a point to). I told him the Foster the People song could count for five points, but he didn't think that was fair.
It struck me as either really twisted or really kind of endearing that Jeff would create a playlist of songs to annoy me, and it's the same that he was talking about us making that same trip again in a year or so. The worst thing was, when I asked him how much I owed him for the tickets and hotel room, he told me, "Happy birthday."
Last time, I believe he said "Merry Christmas."
I'm reminded of the ending of THE NAKED GUN, when Priscilla Presley says to Frank Drebin, "Everyone deserves a friend like you." And in the background, poor O.J. Simpson is violently injured yet again.
Good times.
Rish Outfield, Police Squad!
*And now I can leave it alone for a month and look at it again when I'm no longer close to it. That's always a good idea. That and reading the damn thing aloud. Put that on my tombstone.
**Right past where our seats were, the stairs continued to a tunnel, where Shelob waits for unfortunates to come near. She's always hungry, Precious.
Friday, June 07, 2013
Audiobook Adventures: Week Nineteen
I don't know how much longer I'm going to keep writing these. Each one seems to have less to say than the last. Less original stuff, at least.
I accomplished very little in the audiobook-producing realm this week. I got yet another list of fixes to make on a book I recorded in April, and I was pretty upset about it. So I called up Big and complained to him about it on his drive home from work. He sighed a lot and it sounded like he kept throwing his hands in the air from the screeching tires and honking of other cars, but I actually felt a lot better after talking to him, and went ahead and re-recorded the lines she requested I re-do. I think I've complained about her pickiness before, so I won't bother to do it again (except to say that, honestly, there's a law of diminishing returns on audio fixes when every line she wants redone will sound different than the lines that precede and follow them. I may have said "tuck in her hair behind her ear" instead of "tuck her hair behind her ear," but if the correction draws attention to itself and the original error doesn't . . .).
Conversely, I got exactly two edit requests on the short story collection I narrated and sent in. Both were parts where I said the same line twice and didn't catch it in my edit.* That was an easy fix, and within twenty-four hours, that book was accepted and headed to the sales racks.
Big had suggested I ask that author if he would let us run one of his stories on our podcast, and I asked the guy about it yesterday. He told me to go ahead, so I asked Big which story he wanted to work on. He told me just to pick one and we'd run it soon, just as I recorded it. I was a little bummed about that, since I was hoping he'd want to voice one of the characters and put music in, but his reasoning was, this is a promotional tool for that audiobook, and it wouldn't behoove us to put out a different version than people would be buying (especially if our version had bells and whistles that didn't come in the purchased version). That made sense, so I picked one of the five stories and we'll have an episode with it soon. Kind of an efficient use of my time there, when I think about it.
As far as recording goes, I have focused solely on the first book in a series I've been contracted to do. I've mentioned it a lot, and hopefully, it'll sell well, and I'll end up doing them all, but that's quite a commitment to make, and we'll see if it burns me out in the end. This first book is really pretty fun, and the greatest challenge** in it is that there's so many darn characters. I've tried to give them all unique voices (okay, uniqueish), and started writing them down on the bookmark, because it sucks to have to go back through the recordings to try and figure out what kind of accent or pitch or bad celebrity impression I did for one of the villains.
Because of that, I put away my other projects and just read through it as fast as I could. I got in done this week, in about nine days, but I know that editing will take way longer. A part of me is worried that if I send in the finished work too quickly, that the publisher will think I can handle every book at that pace, and that could be dangerous.
But I have another first book in a series that I began last month, and as soon as this one is done--or I start to hate editing it--I'll pick that up and start recording again. That one has been fun too, and is a much lighter read than the one written in the Sixties.
I haven't included outtakes in the last couple blog posts, mostly because I ran out of them on the old projects, and I saved some from one of my recent recordings and when I went to save them, the file was silent. That's happened to me once before and I'm not sure what causes it, but they're just outtakes--thank Bossk--so I just closed the file and started a new one. Maybe in two weeks or so we'll get more.
Maybe.
Rish Outfield, Occasional Reader
*I wonder how many more of those are out there. Probably several.
**The second-greatest challenge was that there were some sciency-sounding terms and discussions in the book, and not knowing which words were invented and which were real, I tried to pronounce them every conceivable way every time I said them. Time will tell whether I failed on that or not.
I accomplished very little in the audiobook-producing realm this week. I got yet another list of fixes to make on a book I recorded in April, and I was pretty upset about it. So I called up Big and complained to him about it on his drive home from work. He sighed a lot and it sounded like he kept throwing his hands in the air from the screeching tires and honking of other cars, but I actually felt a lot better after talking to him, and went ahead and re-recorded the lines she requested I re-do. I think I've complained about her pickiness before, so I won't bother to do it again (except to say that, honestly, there's a law of diminishing returns on audio fixes when every line she wants redone will sound different than the lines that precede and follow them. I may have said "tuck in her hair behind her ear" instead of "tuck her hair behind her ear," but if the correction draws attention to itself and the original error doesn't . . .).
Conversely, I got exactly two edit requests on the short story collection I narrated and sent in. Both were parts where I said the same line twice and didn't catch it in my edit.* That was an easy fix, and within twenty-four hours, that book was accepted and headed to the sales racks.
Big had suggested I ask that author if he would let us run one of his stories on our podcast, and I asked the guy about it yesterday. He told me to go ahead, so I asked Big which story he wanted to work on. He told me just to pick one and we'd run it soon, just as I recorded it. I was a little bummed about that, since I was hoping he'd want to voice one of the characters and put music in, but his reasoning was, this is a promotional tool for that audiobook, and it wouldn't behoove us to put out a different version than people would be buying (especially if our version had bells and whistles that didn't come in the purchased version). That made sense, so I picked one of the five stories and we'll have an episode with it soon. Kind of an efficient use of my time there, when I think about it.
As far as recording goes, I have focused solely on the first book in a series I've been contracted to do. I've mentioned it a lot, and hopefully, it'll sell well, and I'll end up doing them all, but that's quite a commitment to make, and we'll see if it burns me out in the end. This first book is really pretty fun, and the greatest challenge** in it is that there's so many darn characters. I've tried to give them all unique voices (okay, uniqueish), and started writing them down on the bookmark, because it sucks to have to go back through the recordings to try and figure out what kind of accent or pitch or bad celebrity impression I did for one of the villains.
Because of that, I put away my other projects and just read through it as fast as I could. I got in done this week, in about nine days, but I know that editing will take way longer. A part of me is worried that if I send in the finished work too quickly, that the publisher will think I can handle every book at that pace, and that could be dangerous.
But I have another first book in a series that I began last month, and as soon as this one is done--or I start to hate editing it--I'll pick that up and start recording again. That one has been fun too, and is a much lighter read than the one written in the Sixties.
I haven't included outtakes in the last couple blog posts, mostly because I ran out of them on the old projects, and I saved some from one of my recent recordings and when I went to save them, the file was silent. That's happened to me once before and I'm not sure what causes it, but they're just outtakes--thank Bossk--so I just closed the file and started a new one. Maybe in two weeks or so we'll get more.
Maybe.
Rish Outfield, Occasional Reader
*I wonder how many more of those are out there. Probably several.
**The second-greatest challenge was that there were some sciency-sounding terms and discussions in the book, and not knowing which words were invented and which were real, I tried to pronounce them every conceivable way every time I said them. Time will tell whether I failed on that or not.
Monday, May 27, 2013
Rish's voice on "Twilight Audio Theater"
I wanted to share this because I recorded it a long time ago (no idea when) and heard it today, and quite enjoyed it.
I appeared in the episode "We All Scream," in the Twilight Audio Theatre "Strange Stories" series, which seems to have dropped recently. In this, I play a parapsychologist who is now institutionalized after investigating a haunted house, and was the only survivor of his group.
Mike Murphy writes tons of audio dramas, and I've lent my voice to a few of them. But it's rare that I'm given quite this much scenery to chew, and hopefully my acting is so over that top that it comes back to good again. Up to the listener to decide, I suppose.
Strangely, I couldn't find the website that hosts the show, but the file itself was embedded on Facebook, and I'll embed it here.
Give it a listen, if ye like. I thought it was pretty good stuff.
I appeared in the episode "We All Scream," in the Twilight Audio Theatre "Strange Stories" series, which seems to have dropped recently. In this, I play a parapsychologist who is now institutionalized after investigating a haunted house, and was the only survivor of his group.
Mike Murphy writes tons of audio dramas, and I've lent my voice to a few of them. But it's rare that I'm given quite this much scenery to chew, and hopefully my acting is so over that top that it comes back to good again. Up to the listener to decide, I suppose.
Strangely, I couldn't find the website that hosts the show, but the file itself was embedded on Facebook, and I'll embed it here.
Give it a listen, if ye like. I thought it was pretty good stuff.
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Audiobook Adventures: Week Eighteen
Another week, another dollar. In theory. I've done less this week on this audiobook stuff than I have the past few. I'm not exactly standing under the money tree, so I'm focusing on other things.
I know a couple other folks who have gotten into this little hobby recently, and I suppose they're technically my competition (though Lauren won't be going after the same projects, I wouldn't think). Big says he's going to do it once he moves into his new house--he's going to have a study where, with any luck, he'll be able to set up microphones permanently--and it'll be fun to see how he does on it.
I keep thinking about putting some of my own short stories up on Amazon.com, and then recording them to sell on Audible when I'm in the mood. But the doctors tell me there's a faulty connection between the part of my brain that produces ambition, and the part that gets me off my duff to actually do anything. The good news is, the doctors are considering naming the disability after me. The bad news is, the name they've agreed on is Rishout Doucheypussy Syndrome.
So, anything else?
Oh yeah, I did end up getting the contract to narrate the first five books in that Sci-Fi series I mentioned, and I did go ahead and contact the maintainer of a fan page dedicated to that series to ask his opinion about them. It just seemed like a fun thing to do, and if HBO or Showtime (or the fudgin' Lifetime Network) ever decided to make a television series out of the movie JENNIFER'S BODY, I'd hope they'd email me to ask my opinion about it too.
As a first, instead of PDFs (or unreadable DOCs) of the books in question, the publisher actually sent me old Ace paperbacks of the books. Because these are a bit historical, and potentially well-known, I'm going to try my darndest to make these readings Frank Muller-level good.
However, one of the instructions in the FAQ for producing work for Audible is not to get too carried away with character voices. I believe the exact wording on there is "Cartoonish voices will turn off listeners." And that gave me pause.
What, exactly, is a "cartoonish" voice?
In another book I'm narrating, the author suggested I read one alien species with an Australian accent. If you've ever heard my Aussie accent, you know how bad it can be, but in dealing with a whole alien race from Oz, it's been a challenge to try and do different Australian accents. Ultimately, I chose to go the more subtle route for the main voice, and picked an extremely silly voice for the others. This, methinks, is what Audible was talking about with "cartoonish voices."
But I don't know which is better, when a reader doesn't even try to do accents and everybody sounds the same, or he/she does really bad regional accents. Hopefully, mine lands somewhere in the middle.
Wait, no, that's not good either. Maybe there's a third option.
Rish
P.S. That reminds me: I auditioned for a book recently where the author wanted me to do an Irish accent for one of the characters. If you think my Aussie is bad, you should hear my Irish. Actually, if you think my Aussie is bad, stop reading now and go didgeridoo yourself.
I know a couple other folks who have gotten into this little hobby recently, and I suppose they're technically my competition (though Lauren won't be going after the same projects, I wouldn't think). Big says he's going to do it once he moves into his new house--he's going to have a study where, with any luck, he'll be able to set up microphones permanently--and it'll be fun to see how he does on it.
I keep thinking about putting some of my own short stories up on Amazon.com, and then recording them to sell on Audible when I'm in the mood. But the doctors tell me there's a faulty connection between the part of my brain that produces ambition, and the part that gets me off my duff to actually do anything. The good news is, the doctors are considering naming the disability after me. The bad news is, the name they've agreed on is Rishout Doucheypussy Syndrome.
So, anything else?
Oh yeah, I did end up getting the contract to narrate the first five books in that Sci-Fi series I mentioned, and I did go ahead and contact the maintainer of a fan page dedicated to that series to ask his opinion about them. It just seemed like a fun thing to do, and if HBO or Showtime (or the fudgin' Lifetime Network) ever decided to make a television series out of the movie JENNIFER'S BODY, I'd hope they'd email me to ask my opinion about it too.
As a first, instead of PDFs (or unreadable DOCs) of the books in question, the publisher actually sent me old Ace paperbacks of the books. Because these are a bit historical, and potentially well-known, I'm going to try my darndest to make these readings Frank Muller-level good.
However, one of the instructions in the FAQ for producing work for Audible is not to get too carried away with character voices. I believe the exact wording on there is "Cartoonish voices will turn off listeners." And that gave me pause.
What, exactly, is a "cartoonish" voice?
In another book I'm narrating, the author suggested I read one alien species with an Australian accent. If you've ever heard my Aussie accent, you know how bad it can be, but in dealing with a whole alien race from Oz, it's been a challenge to try and do different Australian accents. Ultimately, I chose to go the more subtle route for the main voice, and picked an extremely silly voice for the others. This, methinks, is what Audible was talking about with "cartoonish voices."
But I don't know which is better, when a reader doesn't even try to do accents and everybody sounds the same, or he/she does really bad regional accents. Hopefully, mine lands somewhere in the middle.
Wait, no, that's not good either. Maybe there's a third option.
Rish
P.S. That reminds me: I auditioned for a book recently where the author wanted me to do an Irish accent for one of the characters. If you think my Aussie is bad, you should hear my Irish. Actually, if you think my Aussie is bad, stop reading now and go didgeridoo yourself.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Rish Outfield: Into Darkness
My cousin was going to take his wife to see STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS last Thursday night, but then she got sick, and he went without her. I had been hesitant about going (it was their date night, and I didn't have to see it opening night), but made up my mind to go along (it was opening night), and I'm glad I did because since then, there have been spoilers aplenty about the ending and the big twist that Paramount had (pretty much) successfully kept secret.
Also, I'm glad I went because I really enjoyed the movie.
Big Anklevich is not a “Star Trek” guy. A lot of our likes and fandoms intersect, but I might have to say that our two big divergent paths are Football (Big’s favorite sport, which I despise) and “Star Trek” (which I love, and Big disdains if not outright despises). Oh wait, I forgot about “South Park.” That may be a better comparison. For years, "Trek" was considered the nerdiest of fandoms, and those that were into it were preyed upon by Big's kind, whether in the halls of public school, or simply by words (I wonder if the males who watch "My Little Pony" are now in that boat). Because of that, we won't be doing an episode about INTO DARKNESS on our show, as much as I would enjoy that. So here I am.
“Star Trek” is not—and never has been—the end-all be-all of my existence. But my father was a “Trek” fan, taking me to see the first four theatrical movies, and I have watched every episode of every series since “Encounter at Farpoint” first aired. I’ve read “Trek” books (am reading one now), I’ve poured over every special feature of the DVDs, and even went to a Trek convention in 2002.
I resented the hell out of the 2009 reboot’s ad campaign of “This is not your father’s Star Trek,” because it had at its core a distaste for the Trekkers, an embrace for anybody else who might shove their way to the front of the line, and an unsubtle rejection of the die-hard fans that had made the franchise such a viable one for forty years.
Director J.J. Abrams is not a fan of “Star Trek.” He represented a trio of collaborators, one who was a dedicated fan of the franchise, one that knew nothing about it, and him, who apparently actually disliked the series. The goal in their collaboration was to find things they all could agree on, and it totally, unequivocally worked . . . in that the 2009 STAR TREK is the biggest hit at the box office of the series, and not just in cash, but in overall ticket sales.
Director Michael Bay has mentioned that he’s no fan of the Transformers. It's remarkable, though, how the big-budget adaptation of a toy commercial could make those toy-hawking cartoons look like the best of Miyazaki.
I have a lot more love for the "Trek" franchise than the "Transformers" one. And yet, I don’t know why I can tolerate J.J. but fudgin’ loathe Michael Bay. Except, I guess, when you look at their filmic styles. The thing with Abrams is, in the 2009 film, and its followup, INTO DARKNESS (as well as SUPER 8 and MISSION:IMPOSSIBLE 3), he tends to hit on themes that speak to me. Bay does not. And Abrams, even without all the fuckin’ lense flares, worked for years on television, focusing on story and character and emotion, whereas Bay cut his teeth on music videos, and seems to have only gotten worse since the days of directing Meat Loaf's “I Would Do Anything For Love” video.
The characters in Abrams’s Trek films feel things, and I respond to that, not to frenetic action or flashy cars or camerawork that causes confusion and nausea, or even big, flawless, expertly-lit juggs. There is genuine human feeling in the first seven minutes of 2009’s STAR TREK, and I’d say there’s more of it there than anything Bay’s made in the last decade. Except that one Bay flick, and maybe what I’m talking about here is why I like that movie—which absolutely nobody else does—so much.
STAR TREK: THE WRATH OF KHAN is a perfect movie. I’m trying to think of a flaw, and coming up short. Perfect score, perfect special effects, great acting, incredible script. I adore that film. I can understand J.J. and Company being tempted to copy it and its formula (though in inverted and subtle ways).
A lot of “Trek” fans are upset about what J.J. has done. My pal Jeff said, four years ago, “So, all the adventures Captain Picard and his crew, and every series after that never happened??” Roddenberry's vision was that of a hopeful future, where the best of human ideals had outlived the worst ones which we see all the time. There was lots of fighting, and scantily-clad ladies, and space battles, but that was probably to help the show sell, and that's what the Abrams movies tend to focus on. And yeah, I too dismissed the 2009 movie as a cool space action flick, but not “Star Trek.”
Even so, the things Abrams does in this movie, and in the last one (though I still have trouble with the Vulcan bullies and silly coincidences and Lil Drag-racing Jimmy Kirk listening to the fuckin’ Beastie Boys), have drama and an emotional core, and seem to at least try to develop a little character, which some franchises don’t give two squats about.
Or one squat, in the worst of ‘em.
Big and I recently sat down and did an episode where I talk about having absolutely no love for the “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” franchise, and how it is doomed and I am relieved not to have to care. But in re-reading Abrams’s quote about the old “Star Trek” series (I had always understood he was more of a fan of STAR WARS, not that he was actively a hater of “Trek”), it got me thinking: what if I got put in charge of the TMNT franchise? Or a Gojira one? Or Space: 1999? Or Voltron? Or Hawkman or the Flash? Or Thundercats? Or any other cult show or series I don’t care about? Does not liking something automatically make it impossible to do something good with it?
Thing is, I know me, and if I had the Turtles franchise handed to me, I would do the best I could with it. I’d sit down with someone who loved the cartoon or comics or action figures and say, “What made you love it? And what do you love all these years later?” Or would that only muddle my thinking?
There is an alternate reality out there, not too far from our own, where I became a successful screenwriter . . . and after the huge hit that was DIE ANOTHER DAY, was given the assignment of writing the spinoff for that loathsome Jinx character.* Alterna-Rish tried really, really hard to write the best movie he could, with depth, and tension, and a heroine who was human and vulnerable and earned her happy ending. He just tried to pretend that this was a new character, regardless of what went before, and crafted the best movie he could. He was fired after the first draft and rewritten by the guys who did those Steven Seagal-teams-up-with-a-rapper films, and JINX opened in 2004, ultimately making seventy-one million dollars and a sequel greenlight from Sony.
Now I think I’m rambling. Truth is, I have about an hour of work left editing the audiobook I recorded, and I just didn’t want to do it anymore. In this, I meant to question whether someone had to love the subject matter, and I don’t know what the answer is, but I know that they do have to try. TRY. Some filmmakers don’t even do that.
Maybe Alterna-Rish got to that point in his Earth’s 2013, and he’s just a hack taking jobs for money and inserting random pop references in them because it keeps him from realizing how alone he is. Maybe he got out of the Biz and writes short stories again, and shares them with nobody because his pride was so wounded after the CONAN THE KING rewrite fiasco.
I don’t think STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS was a perfect movie, but I didn’t dislike it nearly as much as I did IRON MAN 3. And I’m a much bigger “Trek” fan than I ever have been an Iron Man fan. So why didn’t I freak out that they changed Khan’s nationality (and Carol Marcus’s as well, now that I think about it?) like I did with the silly joke they made the Mandarin into? After all, I adore Khan (I stood in line for two hours once to speak Spanish to Ricardo Montalban), and have never once read a comic book with the Mandarin in it?
Again, I guess it just comes down to what I like. They took Khan in a new direction, and even though the TOS crew didn’t meet up with him for seven more years in the original timeline, they took the time to write a line—A SINGLE LINE—to explain it away.** That’s all it takes sometimes, just a throwaway line to let someone else know that you’ve seen “Space Seed” (or THOR, or RAIDERS, or whatever it might be) and it’s like when you see one of the Davies or Moffat “Doctor Who” episodes, and they show a picture of William Hartnell or footage for a second of John Pertwee. The new “Doctor Who” is for people like me, who don’t give a crap about the 20th Century version of the series, but they’re saying they still recognize—and appreciate?—the folks like Jeff who loved the old BBC show.
They didn't kill Khan either, but left him as a possibility for a future confrontation, whereas the "Iron Man" flicks are the only ones from Marvel Studios where they actually kill the bad guys at the end of each movie. And Carol Marcus, while I'd loved for there have been some kind of romantic tension between her and Kirk, stuck around--presumably--for the next movie, when maybe we'll get some emotional connection and/or smooching between the two. When you've got as many characters to service as these films do, it's rare that all of them get something to do, let alone have any real development, but this one did try, better than the "Next Gen" movies managed to (as much as I enjoyed three of those).
It's difficult to put into words why one likes what they like. It's far easier to point at things you hate, because usually there are big things that are obvious to point out, easy to exaggerate, and anyway, as a great man once said, your hate has made you powerful.
When the new "Star Trek" movie ended, I wanted more, and was looking forward to the next adventure (and bummed that they take so much time in between movies, and we won't see much of that five-year mission). When the new Iron Man movie ended, they had so definitively tied up loose ends, said their goodbyes, and practically burned their bridges, that I felt they'd blown the potential for a sequel almost as much as the Daredevil movie did.
No, just as badly as DAREDEVIL. Yeah, I said it.
I think I'm going to go finish that work now.
Rish Tiberius Outfield
*This actually happened, in a parallel earth called Earth-571, where Bob Dole was elected President, Gary Coleman is still alive, reality shows never grew in popularity, “Firefly” got three seasons, but sadly, World War III happened, Pixar stopped making movies, koalas have gone extinct, and a gallon of gasoline costs nine dollars.
**Among the deleted scenes from the 2009 film is a single line spoken by Spock Prime that explains away all the convenient coincidences as being the fractured timeline trying to correct itself. I loved that line, and wish it had been included, for exactly the same reason I appreciated the line about finding Khan and his crew.
Also, I'm glad I went because I really enjoyed the movie.
Big Anklevich is not a “Star Trek” guy. A lot of our likes and fandoms intersect, but I might have to say that our two big divergent paths are Football (Big’s favorite sport, which I despise) and “Star Trek” (which I love, and Big disdains if not outright despises). Oh wait, I forgot about “South Park.” That may be a better comparison. For years, "Trek" was considered the nerdiest of fandoms, and those that were into it were preyed upon by Big's kind, whether in the halls of public school, or simply by words (I wonder if the males who watch "My Little Pony" are now in that boat). Because of that, we won't be doing an episode about INTO DARKNESS on our show, as much as I would enjoy that. So here I am.
“Star Trek” is not—and never has been—the end-all be-all of my existence. But my father was a “Trek” fan, taking me to see the first four theatrical movies, and I have watched every episode of every series since “Encounter at Farpoint” first aired. I’ve read “Trek” books (am reading one now), I’ve poured over every special feature of the DVDs, and even went to a Trek convention in 2002.
I resented the hell out of the 2009 reboot’s ad campaign of “This is not your father’s Star Trek,” because it had at its core a distaste for the Trekkers, an embrace for anybody else who might shove their way to the front of the line, and an unsubtle rejection of the die-hard fans that had made the franchise such a viable one for forty years.
Director J.J. Abrams is not a fan of “Star Trek.” He represented a trio of collaborators, one who was a dedicated fan of the franchise, one that knew nothing about it, and him, who apparently actually disliked the series. The goal in their collaboration was to find things they all could agree on, and it totally, unequivocally worked . . . in that the 2009 STAR TREK is the biggest hit at the box office of the series, and not just in cash, but in overall ticket sales.
Director Michael Bay has mentioned that he’s no fan of the Transformers. It's remarkable, though, how the big-budget adaptation of a toy commercial could make those toy-hawking cartoons look like the best of Miyazaki.
I have a lot more love for the "Trek" franchise than the "Transformers" one. And yet, I don’t know why I can tolerate J.J. but fudgin’ loathe Michael Bay. Except, I guess, when you look at their filmic styles. The thing with Abrams is, in the 2009 film, and its followup, INTO DARKNESS (as well as SUPER 8 and MISSION:IMPOSSIBLE 3), he tends to hit on themes that speak to me. Bay does not. And Abrams, even without all the fuckin’ lense flares, worked for years on television, focusing on story and character and emotion, whereas Bay cut his teeth on music videos, and seems to have only gotten worse since the days of directing Meat Loaf's “I Would Do Anything For Love” video.
The characters in Abrams’s Trek films feel things, and I respond to that, not to frenetic action or flashy cars or camerawork that causes confusion and nausea, or even big, flawless, expertly-lit juggs. There is genuine human feeling in the first seven minutes of 2009’s STAR TREK, and I’d say there’s more of it there than anything Bay’s made in the last decade. Except that one Bay flick, and maybe what I’m talking about here is why I like that movie—which absolutely nobody else does—so much.
STAR TREK: THE WRATH OF KHAN is a perfect movie. I’m trying to think of a flaw, and coming up short. Perfect score, perfect special effects, great acting, incredible script. I adore that film. I can understand J.J. and Company being tempted to copy it and its formula (though in inverted and subtle ways).
A lot of “Trek” fans are upset about what J.J. has done. My pal Jeff said, four years ago, “So, all the adventures Captain Picard and his crew, and every series after that never happened??” Roddenberry's vision was that of a hopeful future, where the best of human ideals had outlived the worst ones which we see all the time. There was lots of fighting, and scantily-clad ladies, and space battles, but that was probably to help the show sell, and that's what the Abrams movies tend to focus on. And yeah, I too dismissed the 2009 movie as a cool space action flick, but not “Star Trek.”
Even so, the things Abrams does in this movie, and in the last one (though I still have trouble with the Vulcan bullies and silly coincidences and Lil Drag-racing Jimmy Kirk listening to the fuckin’ Beastie Boys), have drama and an emotional core, and seem to at least try to develop a little character, which some franchises don’t give two squats about.
Or one squat, in the worst of ‘em.
Big and I recently sat down and did an episode where I talk about having absolutely no love for the “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” franchise, and how it is doomed and I am relieved not to have to care. But in re-reading Abrams’s quote about the old “Star Trek” series (I had always understood he was more of a fan of STAR WARS, not that he was actively a hater of “Trek”), it got me thinking: what if I got put in charge of the TMNT franchise? Or a Gojira one? Or Space: 1999? Or Voltron? Or Hawkman or the Flash? Or Thundercats? Or any other cult show or series I don’t care about? Does not liking something automatically make it impossible to do something good with it?
Thing is, I know me, and if I had the Turtles franchise handed to me, I would do the best I could with it. I’d sit down with someone who loved the cartoon or comics or action figures and say, “What made you love it? And what do you love all these years later?” Or would that only muddle my thinking?
There is an alternate reality out there, not too far from our own, where I became a successful screenwriter . . . and after the huge hit that was DIE ANOTHER DAY, was given the assignment of writing the spinoff for that loathsome Jinx character.* Alterna-Rish tried really, really hard to write the best movie he could, with depth, and tension, and a heroine who was human and vulnerable and earned her happy ending. He just tried to pretend that this was a new character, regardless of what went before, and crafted the best movie he could. He was fired after the first draft and rewritten by the guys who did those Steven Seagal-teams-up-with-a-rapper films, and JINX opened in 2004, ultimately making seventy-one million dollars and a sequel greenlight from Sony.
Now I think I’m rambling. Truth is, I have about an hour of work left editing the audiobook I recorded, and I just didn’t want to do it anymore. In this, I meant to question whether someone had to love the subject matter, and I don’t know what the answer is, but I know that they do have to try. TRY. Some filmmakers don’t even do that.
Maybe Alterna-Rish got to that point in his Earth’s 2013, and he’s just a hack taking jobs for money and inserting random pop references in them because it keeps him from realizing how alone he is. Maybe he got out of the Biz and writes short stories again, and shares them with nobody because his pride was so wounded after the CONAN THE KING rewrite fiasco.
I don’t think STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS was a perfect movie, but I didn’t dislike it nearly as much as I did IRON MAN 3. And I’m a much bigger “Trek” fan than I ever have been an Iron Man fan. So why didn’t I freak out that they changed Khan’s nationality (and Carol Marcus’s as well, now that I think about it?) like I did with the silly joke they made the Mandarin into? After all, I adore Khan (I stood in line for two hours once to speak Spanish to Ricardo Montalban), and have never once read a comic book with the Mandarin in it?
Again, I guess it just comes down to what I like. They took Khan in a new direction, and even though the TOS crew didn’t meet up with him for seven more years in the original timeline, they took the time to write a line—A SINGLE LINE—to explain it away.** That’s all it takes sometimes, just a throwaway line to let someone else know that you’ve seen “Space Seed” (or THOR, or RAIDERS, or whatever it might be) and it’s like when you see one of the Davies or Moffat “Doctor Who” episodes, and they show a picture of William Hartnell or footage for a second of John Pertwee. The new “Doctor Who” is for people like me, who don’t give a crap about the 20th Century version of the series, but they’re saying they still recognize—and appreciate?—the folks like Jeff who loved the old BBC show.
They didn't kill Khan either, but left him as a possibility for a future confrontation, whereas the "Iron Man" flicks are the only ones from Marvel Studios where they actually kill the bad guys at the end of each movie. And Carol Marcus, while I'd loved for there have been some kind of romantic tension between her and Kirk, stuck around--presumably--for the next movie, when maybe we'll get some emotional connection and/or smooching between the two. When you've got as many characters to service as these films do, it's rare that all of them get something to do, let alone have any real development, but this one did try, better than the "Next Gen" movies managed to (as much as I enjoyed three of those).
It's difficult to put into words why one likes what they like. It's far easier to point at things you hate, because usually there are big things that are obvious to point out, easy to exaggerate, and anyway, as a great man once said, your hate has made you powerful.
When the new "Star Trek" movie ended, I wanted more, and was looking forward to the next adventure (and bummed that they take so much time in between movies, and we won't see much of that five-year mission). When the new Iron Man movie ended, they had so definitively tied up loose ends, said their goodbyes, and practically burned their bridges, that I felt they'd blown the potential for a sequel almost as much as the Daredevil movie did.
No, just as badly as DAREDEVIL. Yeah, I said it.
I think I'm going to go finish that work now.
Rish Tiberius Outfield
*This actually happened, in a parallel earth called Earth-571, where Bob Dole was elected President, Gary Coleman is still alive, reality shows never grew in popularity, “Firefly” got three seasons, but sadly, World War III happened, Pixar stopped making movies, koalas have gone extinct, and a gallon of gasoline costs nine dollars.
**Among the deleted scenes from the 2009 film is a single line spoken by Spock Prime that explains away all the convenient coincidences as being the fractured timeline trying to correct itself. I loved that line, and wish it had been included, for exactly the same reason I appreciated the line about finding Khan and his crew.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Audiobook Adventures: Week Seventeen
How in the deuce have I been doing this for seventeen weeks?
Maybe I've been going longer than that, and forgot to post a couple of weeks. Whoops.*
So, let's see. I made those changes I was complaining about in the last episode. Wait, I sure hope I complained about them. Maybe it's been so long since I wrote one of these, I didn't.
To make a long story short, I got sent a list of changes that needed to be made (I meant to put "needed" in quotation marks there) before the book was ready to go. Before that happened, I mentioned to the author that because of the way one's voice changes, settings change, and microphones change, it would be hard to make the audio match on any new lines she wanted me to record, and that there were times I dropped a word or two because the audio was bad and I didn't want to re-record it and have it sound bad.
Well, there were several instances on the list where the problem she wanted fixed was the audio quality changing from one sentence to the other. And then, there were times when I had dropped a word or two from a sentence here and there.
Are you sure I didn't complain about this already? It feels like I have.
Regardless, I addressed every point on her list, and now there are twice as many instances of the audio quality changing, try as I might to make it all match. I pray to Odin she's fine with that. If not, I pray to Shiva, let me die.
Okay, what else is going on?
I haven't auditioned for anything in a couple of weeks. Sometimes I do look at what's just gone up, and is looking for auditions, but it's almost always stuff I'm not interested in, and when it is, they're almost always hundred thousand word (I originally typed "page") novels, or worse yet, series of novels. I have a bit on my plate--not a lot, but I'm still a lazy sack, perpetually fourteen years old--and would rather take on novellas or short stories.
Right before writing this, I finished editing my recording of another book. Well, I think it's finished, we'll find out what the rights owner thinks. It's the same book I've talked about here recently, full of stories written decades ago, that I was pretty excited about, when I first got the contract for them.
Somehow, I'm able to make the fact that I'm (ostensibly) getting paid to do something fun appear like work. I must seem like such a whiner to the, count 'em, four people reading this blog. And I am. If you're one my, count 'em three friends, then you know I actually enjoy complaining about things. Even if I have to lie about it.
Like when I said I'm getting paid to produce these audiobooks.
Rish Outfield, Audio Boy
*It has been more than a week since I posted one of these, so I think I'll cut out one paragraph and stick it in next week's. Maybe having an already-started post will encourage me not to wait so long.
Maybe I've been going longer than that, and forgot to post a couple of weeks. Whoops.*
So, let's see. I made those changes I was complaining about in the last episode. Wait, I sure hope I complained about them. Maybe it's been so long since I wrote one of these, I didn't.
To make a long story short, I got sent a list of changes that needed to be made (I meant to put "needed" in quotation marks there) before the book was ready to go. Before that happened, I mentioned to the author that because of the way one's voice changes, settings change, and microphones change, it would be hard to make the audio match on any new lines she wanted me to record, and that there were times I dropped a word or two because the audio was bad and I didn't want to re-record it and have it sound bad.
Well, there were several instances on the list where the problem she wanted fixed was the audio quality changing from one sentence to the other. And then, there were times when I had dropped a word or two from a sentence here and there.
Are you sure I didn't complain about this already? It feels like I have.
Regardless, I addressed every point on her list, and now there are twice as many instances of the audio quality changing, try as I might to make it all match. I pray to Odin she's fine with that. If not, I pray to Shiva, let me die.
Okay, what else is going on?
I haven't auditioned for anything in a couple of weeks. Sometimes I do look at what's just gone up, and is looking for auditions, but it's almost always stuff I'm not interested in, and when it is, they're almost always hundred thousand word (I originally typed "page") novels, or worse yet, series of novels. I have a bit on my plate--not a lot, but I'm still a lazy sack, perpetually fourteen years old--and would rather take on novellas or short stories.
Right before writing this, I finished editing my recording of another book. Well, I think it's finished, we'll find out what the rights owner thinks. It's the same book I've talked about here recently, full of stories written decades ago, that I was pretty excited about, when I first got the contract for them.
Somehow, I'm able to make the fact that I'm (ostensibly) getting paid to do something fun appear like work. I must seem like such a whiner to the, count 'em, four people reading this blog. And I am. If you're one my, count 'em three friends, then you know I actually enjoy complaining about things. Even if I have to lie about it.
Like when I said I'm getting paid to produce these audiobooks.
Rish Outfield, Audio Boy
*It has been more than a week since I posted one of these, so I think I'll cut out one paragraph and stick it in next week's. Maybe having an already-started post will encourage me not to wait so long.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
"Swords & Scimitars" short story now available on Audible.com
This one nearly slipped through. While I was working my way through the novel I'd taken on, I signed up to perform a couple of short stories, which, while work, were pleasant diversions from my much more lengthy assignment. One of these was "Swords & Scimitars" by Cate Rowan.
This was a prequel to a longer work she had already published, giving the backstory to one of the characters, examining a little of what made him who he was in the "Alaia Chronicles," which is a series of books Rowan wrote. Not having read those, I was at a bit of a disadvantage in knowing how to perform the characters, and she actually had me do one part over and revoice one character completely.
Here's your link: Swords & Scimitars: Alaia Chronicles. Basically, this tells the history of Kismet, who with his brother Taso, live a leisurely life as children of a god. After a tragic mistake sends him into exile, Kismet devotes himself to military life, and eventually is approached by two enemy leaders, each presenting a daughter as a peace offering . . . as long as Kismet will marry her.
The file is less than an hour long, and it'll be interesting if fans of Rowan's longer works will scoop up the short story too. It seems to work for Abbie Hilton, who gives away for free her novels, but offers short stories for a buck or two each.
This was a prequel to a longer work she had already published, giving the backstory to one of the characters, examining a little of what made him who he was in the "Alaia Chronicles," which is a series of books Rowan wrote. Not having read those, I was at a bit of a disadvantage in knowing how to perform the characters, and she actually had me do one part over and revoice one character completely.
Here's your link: Swords & Scimitars: Alaia Chronicles. Basically, this tells the history of Kismet, who with his brother Taso, live a leisurely life as children of a god. After a tragic mistake sends him into exile, Kismet devotes himself to military life, and eventually is approached by two enemy leaders, each presenting a daughter as a peace offering . . . as long as Kismet will marry her.
The file is less than an hour long, and it'll be interesting if fans of Rowan's longer works will scoop up the short story too. It seems to work for Abbie Hilton, who gives away for free her novels, but offers short stories for a buck or two each.
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