“Don’t be too harsh to these poems until they’re typed. I always think typescript lends some sort of certainty: at least, if the things are bad then, they appear to be bad with conviction.” —Dylan Thomas in a letter to Vernon Watkins, March 1938

I didn’t begin writing seriously until 2002. I waited to tell anyone this until I was 45,000 words into the 70,000-word novel I was plugging away at in secret (a disjointed narrative that would eventually be shelved). And even then, when I did mention what I was working on, I did not say I was “writing seriously”. I mumbled that I was “writing something… or something.”

At that time, I had no personal preferences amongst any of the tools or writing paraphernalia I used. I used anything. I wrote in discarded sketchbooks. I wrote in terrible, 99-cent notepads that I’d acquired from clearance bins. I wrote long and sprawling and sideways on the subscription cards that fell out of magazines. I saw no need to seek out particular types of paper or pens, which makes sense because I was a.) a beginner, and b.) so blinded by the burning need to write that I barely saw what I was writing on, or what I was writing with. I decided that I would always write on anything, and never want for better or different than what was already available to me, or what was, you know… cheap. I told myself that this would be a charming attribute, but mostly it was a way to avoid making myself vulnerable to anyone who might notice, or worse, to myself.

In my painting studio with a fresh and typically sloppy dye-job, 2003.

I had been a “working artist” (only just, as I rarely made more than the cost of my supplies), and most of the people around me were artists — salt-of-the-earth types who were born and bred to be visual artists, as I’d once believed myself to be. Suddenly shifting gears from art to writing sounded awfully flaky at the outset, I knew that. And writing seemed like a luxury someone with my life didn’t deserve to enjoy. I didn’t want to invest money in it (I was still pursuing art until about 2006), and moreover, I did not want to become too attached to it in case it went away. It is much easier to act as though you aren’t devastated by the loss of something when you pretend that you never needed it in the first place.

So I snuck up on all my writing processes very casually and with a pretense of apathy, despite how deeply satisfied I was by it all. “Oh, hm. I guess I’ll write something here. I don’t care one way or another, really, but I might as well since I’m here and you’re here and nobody else is using these words right now.” It was not people I was worried about being rejected by per se, or at least not particular people. It was more the looming, nonspecific worry of being deemed a charlatan by writing itself, or by some nonexistent, collective writing authority, and being catapulted out of it like an olive pit, spat out by a hungry individual before they down the small and oily flesh. If writers were olives, then I’d hide out in this olive jar as long as possible, until someone discovered that I was a pit.

Now, a decade after I first began “writing seriously” in the most beat-up and decrepit journal I could find in my house, I have very specific fetishes for things I use to help me write, or things I use while I write. Most writers have their own variations of these affinities, or will develop them. They can range from objects, to places or rooms, to conditions under which you work best. Here are my current writing fetishes, culled from all the things I’ve tried thus far.

Times New Roman and Courier New duke it out.

Writing Fetish #1.) Times New Roman

I write best and most efficiently in a word processing program, at a computer. I actually think this is sort of an unbecoming reality of mine, or at least unromantic, because I know of writers who do entire first novel drafts longhand. How very lovely and appealing. Not realistic for me. I actually began writing, in 2002, more in longhand because I was moving over from 2D art, so working on paper was familiar. Over time I slowly transitioned more and more to drafting right at the computer, and by 2007, when I began my novel Basajaun, I was settled into something pretty close to the writing routine I use now. The very first words of Basajaun were typed at a computer, not written on paper. I think I had a page or two of very general notes I had made, but they only gave a very vague guideline of the thematic arc, as there was a lot about the story I hadn’t fleshed out yet.

I type much more quickly than I can write longhand, which makes writing on computer important and necessary. Thoughts come and words string together very fast for me when I’m working, and I need to rush to keep up, or I’ll lose them. Being able to tweak and change bits of sentences around while I’m working is also appealing. I do that a lot. Ideally, I work best when I am able to revise (to some degree) as I go, though that is not always possible in the earliest stages of a fiction work, or at any time when things are coming together more slowly.

I always, always type the first draft of a novel, as well as my nonfiction articles, in Times New Roman (12 point). I am pretty sure I got into that habit because it was the default font in Microsoft Word, when I still had a PC. I am very attached to Times New Roman now, especially from the happy experience of writing Basajaun. For some reason the default for Pages on my Mac is Helvetica. I always forget this when I begin writing on a new document, because I open it and just begin typing, and when I see the text in Helvetica my mind goes, “Ah! Wha? Gzehgbgit!” — which is the sound of my brain stalling because it has hit the font-wall. As this is going on I am usually rushing to get down whatever thoughts have spurred me to initiate a new writing document, so I hurriedly change the font to Times as quickly as possible, before my whole thought-system derails and crashes and goes up on chaos, and I lose whatever I am racing against the clock to record. I should really look at how to change that default setting, but as I am always rushing to do the actual work, I always forget that this will happen again. And when I do have time to fix the more mundane aspects of my workspace, I am morbidly disinterested in doing the things that aren’t part of the actual writing process. Which is terrible of me, I know.

The most recently revised hard copy of the new Basajaun MS, 386 pages.

That said, I always do the later drafts of my novel manuscripts in Courier New. That’s the fine, widely spaced, typewriter-y looking font. I got into this habit from converting my manuscripts to Courier for agent or publisher submission. Supposedly, Courier is The Font of Choice one is supposed to use when submitting for publication, presumably because it is the typewriter-y looking font, and we all Who Are Part of the Publishing Industry are still pretending that we do all our writing on typewriters, because that is so very much cooler.

I like this change in format when I’m doing the later revision stage, because seeing the writing in a different font will help me read it with a new eye, see errors, and just in general see it differently and identify what doesn’t work or what needs changing, clarifying, correction or rewriting. Likewise, when I do early drafts of novels in Times I do it all single-spaced, so I can see more of the text at a time, making as-I-go revising easier. When I switch to Courier I double-space it, which is the traditional submission format (leaving room for agents / editors / your mom to make notes between lines). That spacing change-up also helps me look at the work differently.

Going back even earlier in the process, one of the most crucial format change-ups to happen at all is that first time I actually print out the manuscript — in Times New Roman, single-spaced — and read, revise and work off of a hard copy for the first time. Since the entire novel will have been basically composed on a computer, the first Times printout will foster in-depth revisions. I highly recommend this part of the process for any writer: If you compose on computer, revise at some stage on a hard copy. If you compose longhand, revise at some point on computer (which you will of course do whenever you type your work up, unless it’s not a book but a novel-length manifesto or love letter to someone who enjoys that sort of thing). Every time you change method or format / font on a manuscript, you will see your writing “fresh” and will more readily decipher ways in which it can be improved.

Writing Fetish #2.) Mead Composition Books

All right, that was a lengthy explanation of why I compose most of my work on computer, but I do sometimes need to write in notebooks too. And I now only exclusively use Composition Books. Only. Ever. For a number of reasons: First, they are tape-and-stitch bound, which I find aesthetically pleasing to handle. Second, they are not spiral-bound, which I find completely icky to the touch. The metal coils get bent and make it so the pages don’t turn fluidly or consistently, which is jarring and a nuisance. Spiral-bound notebooks remind me of being in school, and that is not an association I want when I work. Composition books are also smaller — 7 1/2″ x 9 3/4″ — making them more portable, and just the right size for me when writing. 8 1/2″ x 11″ notebooks are too big — the pages are too large, it feels like too much open space. The more squarish proportions of composition books are also more appealing to me than rectangular notebooks. More succinct. I only use ruled ones, because blank, unruled pages make me feel like I should be drawing, not writing. Since I am usually buying them on the fly I always end up with the wide-ruled, but someday if I am ever together enough to order them ahead of time or something (what a novelty!), I’ll try the narrow-ruled.

I often write in my composition books — as opposed to on my computer — when I’m doing research for an interview; and I make notations for interviews heavily. Or when I’m writing in bed late at night and want to be away from the computer so I can eventually wind down and sleep. One of the main reasons I need them is so I can still write when I’m sick, or when I have a migraine, because the light from the computer plays merry hell with that. Or if I just need a break from the computer, but still want to work. I sometimes write in restaurants like a jerk, because I need to get out of my house, or I need to, like, eat, and I use the composition books then (or I bring along a chunk of manuscript for revising). I once thought I left one of them in a restaurant — one with a lot of important notes inside for my next novel. The horror. I later found it under an old sketchbook in my living room.

When I have my druthers, I use the marbled, Mead-brand Composition Books in black, navy or green. Black is nicest, but I usually have a few going at a time, so I need to know at a glance which book I’m picking up. During the mid-years of my writing when I was branching out from writing on envelopes, but not yet ready to make a commitment to supplies — not to mention part with the few bills in my wallet — I foolhardily picked up a bunch of knock-off Composition Books, because they were on clearance and much cheaper than the Mead ones. They are bright green (and white, respectively) with a red flower on the front. I hate them. I can see them there now, sitting on my shelf, waiting to be used. I have three left. I don’t mind about the knock-off brand, but the color and graphic are too bright and distracting for work. I am going to alter or color over them in some way. Or if you give me your address, maybe I will send them to you.

In my purse, I always carry a ruled Moleskine of some sort. Yeah, I’m one of those guys. But damn — they are nice.

I'm a little teapot, and I'm going to rock your world.

Writing Fetish #3.) This teapot

I love my teapot. Did you hear me, teapot? I love you. You are one of my best inanimate friends. Before you, I heated my water mug-by-mug in the microwave, like some sort of heathen or caveman. Or ape. Except when I threw my bone into the air, instead of turning into an orbiting satellite, it turned into a electric tea kettle.

The Cuisinart Electric Kettle was a 2010 Christmas gift from my very wonderful fiance, and I use it ALL THE TIME. It has six individual settings for all different sorts of tea, and a thirty-minute warming feature. I am trying now to think of a way to say this that doesn’t sound insufferable and affected, but I, uh, drink a lot of tea while I write.

As Tia says in Uncle Buck, “I’m not doing it to impress you.” I just really adore tea. A lot. I have already explained this quite sleazily in my 2011 Idler column My life in liquid: beverages I have known, loved and exploited, but the short version is: in addition to balls-out loving the taste of tea (pure and bitter, with no milk or sweetener), I also love that I can drink it all day without my heart exploding. I like that it gives me something to focus the non-writing part of my brain on, because it makes it easier to write when that surface, busy side of my mind is occupied elsewhere. Somehow, tea is also, to me, a happy substitute for smoking, as the crumbled-up tea leaves are as similar to tobacco as one can get in the annals of grown and harvested, healthy consumables. Green tea is my favorite. I feel that I write better when I drink green tea versus other kinds, but I’m pretty certain that’s just some hackneyed notion I’ve cooked up in my noggin.

I do know that I write better when I take my vitamins, though, particularly my B-50 Complex. I am not making this up. Whenever someone tells me they have writer’s block, that’s the first thing I tell them to do: take B-Complex. That’s not a fetish, just a way to up your lucidness and keep your brain lubed and operating at maximum writing efficiency.

Writing Fetishes are a good thing though — they make the process more personalized and enjoyable. Or less enjoyable, if that’s your thing. Maybe, like Mrs. Doyle, your fetish is that you like the misery.

Last night, I made the tremendous discovery that the 1951 Chip ‘n’ Dale Cartoon “Chicken in the Rough” in on youtube. This sent me into a spiral of giddy joy and nostalgia, because it was one of my favorite Chip ‘n’ Dale cartoons when I was little, yet I hadn’t seen it *for years*. I immediately had that distant but very solid reconnection with the entire appearance of the cartoon, even the background art. “I remember that fence! I loved that chicken-coop ramp!” As a kid, I always had a very tactile relationship with 2D imagery in cartoons. And even now, watching this cartoon as an adult, I remember the texture and weight that I believed its setting to have (“I can touch those acorns!”). This ability to transpose material attributes onto nonphysical imagery is probably an asset to me as a fiction writer, yet sadly, the little “Chicken in the Rough” microcosm of “real” was something that came over me last night only in retrospect, because it’s not something I would have remotely been able to flesh out now. Had I watched this cartoon for the first time as a grown-up, I undoubtedly would have only seen what the rest of the world sees.

During this time in my childhood — when I was jettisoning myself through existence and reason to touch the inner walls of a Chip ‘n’ Dale cartoon — I had a small, generic flocked toy of a chick that I swore to my mother looked exactly like the “Chicken in the Rough” chick. I don’t know if she thought so, but I was resolute enough in my opinion to not need any outside endorsement. The chick in “Chicken in the Rough” was the whole reason I was that in love with the cartoon at all. I was fixated on him, and on the sequence where he hatches and Dale carries him around, and then tries to put him back in the egg (and since I have seen that Disney makes cloisonne pins of that very scene, I know I’m not the only one). The screen-cap collage above is one I made by painstakingly going through that, my most treasured sequence, and capping the exact moments that made my heart feel the most full of bursting delight and satisfaction. In fact, if you don’t want to watch the whole cartoon, I have also cued up that exact clip here so that you watch it on its own. You can also use it as a test to learn things about yourself — for instance, if watching it doesn’t make your heart feel a least a little bit fluffy, then you might not have a soul.

Moving right along, here in other randomness is a double-profile portrait of me and my mug and my face, with a nekkid lady ship masthead peeking over my schnoz (in the bottom pic) if you look closely.

More parallel merriment, in which the universe aligns: When I was in Toronto for the second time in August (oh damn, I still totally have to post those photos), I took this pic at the Royal Ontario Museum (ROM) of a tiny Roman sculpture — of a ‘Comic Actor’, no less! — that looked suspiciously and uncannily like Brian Blessed, who played Augustus Caesar in the BBC miniseries “I, Claudius” two-thousand years later. Ooo it’s prophetic, just like on the telly! Watch yer’ chickens!

What actually happened was — I saw the sculpture while my fiance was down the aisle a little ways, looking at some stoic Roman busts, so I called to him, “Guy! Guy! This statue looks like Brian Blessed! Look! This statue looks like Brian Blessed! Come here! Confirm for me that this looks like Brian Blessed!”

I’m fun at museums, yo.

"Good evening Mr. & Mrs. America from border to border & coast to coast & all the ships at sea!"

Here also is an awesome 1930 Dutch postcard I bought for my ever-expanding antique Easter postcard collection. Look! Who initiated this call? Why does the Easter bunny even have a telephone?! And as Shawna said, “What’s it plugged into? A rock?”

In closing, here’s another pic of me hanging out in what I like to call, “my studio”. Nah, it’s a hut. And before you get all excited about my fantastic hut-building skillz’, I didn’t build it. It was built (I believe) to show kiddo nature groups how to create a shelter. Aw. I did squat in it myself though. I take full credit for the squatting. I have great squatting skills.

If you enjoyed this randomness, you can also find me on Facebook and / or follow me on Twitter at @rosemaryvan, where I post more randomness like this, along with writing updates, cute photos of my pet rabbit, and extremely inappropriate music video links.

Speaking of writing, there’s a whole little bundle of updates about new interviews that I’ve conducted recently with some really cool people, but rather than repeat myself here, I’ll just leave a link for my official news page where you can find all my real writing news and tidbits.

Ok, one more photo before I go…

‘C’ is for cookie. And consumables. And consummation. I just consummated a careless coupling with this container of consumable Christmas cookies. But it’s completely copasetic, ’cause it was consensual.

Do you like it now?

How about now?

Mask by the very marvelous and wonderful Melita Curphy / ‘Miss Monster’! Check her out and buy her wares at www.missmonster.com!

Close shot.

Sneaking up on the cat. “Spanky, what do you think of my mask?”

Head-butt!!

Look! It’s uncanny!
(Hazel thinks so too. I can see it through his abject indifference.)

It has Guy in the woods. Look how stoic!

It has me in the woods. Look how frizzy!

It has Guy and I miniature golfing at a delightfully garish Putt-Putt course! (This is my current fave pic of Guy and I ever in the world, btw.)

Click below to experience Michigan through my eyez’, via photos:

Guy is Choosing the Perfect Stick. It is a very important step. Like Building the Perfect Beast.

Boy of Summer (or autumn, as this was a recent one).

It was so quiet, we could hear the leaves dropping.

The Midwest: Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it.

Hazy.

Guy walks tough.

Which way?

This way!

I walk… not as tough as I might like.

Going back in time: September!

I am walking on a log!

I am standing on a log!

I am walking down the log…

And I am walking up the log!

Kewte.

On a hill. This is the Woody Guthrie shirt I got in Toronto. This is the image (you know the one).

Would you care to take a seat? We can provide one for you here.

Or do you need an umbrella? You can pretend to be a bunny.

The miniature golfing pics! Finally! From July.

Wakka wakka.

Trying to fix my bangs because I cut them too short, which made me look like
a hobbit.

Waterfall! Miniature golf with all the trimmings!

Guy is winning. Just winning, not #winning.

A stately golfing pose.

The view.

Another park! Dry, enormous pines!

And turtles! Here is an uncircumcised turtle.

Leonardo.

Raphael.

Michelangelo.

Donatello.

Cattails! Lovely.

Squinty! We got tan that day.

Wading.

Lush.

Out on the boardwalk in June.

How Green Is My Valley? (Hint: very)

Cottontail hopes you don’t see him.

♥

They greatly enjoyed their day of swinging on swings, finding a boat, and playing on the lawn. Luckily they photographed all their adventures, and you can view them here:

Won't somebody adopt this Shawnabunny?

Hello! As promised, I am still working through my pictures from the summer and early fall. I was really looking forward to sharing these — from when my dearly beloved friend (and new fiction editor) Shawna came to visit me in July! There was much beer-drinking, cake-baking, merriment and even a fun game of dress up (pic post of that day to follow), as well as, of course, some actual work on the upcoming new edition of my young adult novel BASAJAUN.

Additionally, Shawna and I got a tour of the Great Lakes Rabbit Sanctuary, a no-kill rabbit rescue in Michigan. People who have been following me online for a little while may remember the companion rabbit photo website Basajaun’s Warren, which ran in conjunction with the first edition of the book, and benefited the Great Lakes Rabbit Sanctuary (the Warren site only ran for 2010, but you can still view it online here). The GLRS is a marvelous group (check them out here!), and Shawna and I were both excited for her to see the rescue first hand!

The Sanctuary rescues wee bunnies…

And beeeeeggggg bunnies…

And a few potbellied pigs too!

Click the thingie below to see the rest of the pics! Unless you came to this post via a direct link, in which case, just continue to scroll!
Upon arrival, we are greeted by four of the sanctuary’s six resident potbellied pigs.

Cutting quite a profile with lovely little bristly back-hairs ^_^

They are very friendly.

To the bunny area.

Shawna makes a friend.

Bunny buddies.

A closely bonded pair.

Shawna pointed out that this bunny looks like the one from Sylvain Chomet’s The Illusionist.

Illusionist-bunny is no match for Shawna’s magical head-skritches.

Saddle-back mini rex named Rhonda.

Lop named Cinnamon takes on a hay pile as large as herself.

Spencer is coming out to play!

Streeeetch…

You can’t catch me!

Okay, maybe you can.

Solomon.

This is his ID card.

This is him.

He really liked Shawna.

She snapped a photo of me with Solomon too.

Little bunny Tito’s turn to come out.

Once he’s through dining atop his hay perch.

Ready for action!

Digging.

Pick me! Pick me!

Spencer was adopted a few weeks after our visit

A reenactment of Rose Tyler’s departure from the new Doctor Who at the end of the second season. I think that the white rabbit is Billie Piper and Spencer is David Tennant.

The cover-boy of the GLRS — he is used in many of their photos.

Shawna with an adorably scrappy and loving little Dutch named Mitch.

A GLRS volunteer introduces us to the largest rabbit at the sanctuary. He was huge! They had to build him an extra tall pen, because he kept leaping over the standard-sized ones, which were as as high as my waist!

He was also a complete and utter sweetheart.

Don’t forget to check out the Great Lakes Rabbit Sanctuary website! ♥

This is the second a capella song I’ve uploaded to youtube for public consumption– Chuck Berry’s ‘Memphis / Memphis, Tennessee’. This song is often associated with Johnny Rivers, whose 1964 cover made it higher in the US charts than Berry’s original 1959 recording. The lyrics I’m using here are (with a few additional tweaks) from the 1965 version by Jim Kweskin and the Jug Band, which is my favorite inception of the song. I just do these for fun, so audio is “recorded” very casually in my studio

If you missed it in April, you can also find my ‘a capella from a room’ cover of St. James Infirmary / Gambler’s Blues on youtube as well.

My lovely fiance Guy has been back and forth to Toronto working on concept art for Guillermo del Toro, so I’ve made a couple jaunts up there to visit. I had never been to Canada. Most of my associations with the country go back to Anne Of Green Gables, which I was hardcore-obsessed with as a child (and kind of still am). I realize, of course, that Prince Edward Island is nowhere near Ontario. Like not even close.

So I did not see any pigtailed redheads during my stays in Canada, but I did see many wonderful things. I even photographed some of them. Here is a selection of pics from trip #1 ♥

Alexis with french toast! That french toast is INSANE.

Loads more pics behind the cut!

This is the french toast your mother warned you about.

More of the view dusk.

Rock-balancing. Alexis said someone once stuck their head out of a streetcar window and yelled at this guy, “He uses glue!” (Hint: He doesn’t use glue.)

Hahaha.

Show flyer at Mitzi’s Sister, where the hilarious french toast was served. Come for the french toast, stay for the Frenchmen!

At the city park wildlife area, where I snapped this photo of Lionel Barrymore.

And this photo of Joey Ramone.

And this photo of a goose (sorry, I got nothin’).
Actually, I was fascinated by these large, white geese, because we don’t have them in the midwest states. I’ve only ever seen them in Sherlock Holmes ‘The Blue Carbuncle’ and alongside Hummel figurines. And this one cleaned his feathers in the most complex, lengthy fashion possible. It was mesmerizing.

My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.

Muscovy duck has his mask all ready for the costume ball.

Capybaras. Damn, they’re cute.

Emu doesn’t care, so there.

Eeeeeeee.

EEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!

As Alexis said, “There’s always that one goat who wants to sleep in his feed trough.”

Relaxing at the park.

Very serene.

What we see.

On the bridge over the train tracks.

Train-track photographing fixation.

Framed studio portrait, abandoned in a curbside cardboard box which read, “Free.” Hand-signed & dated 1955.

Newspaper dress in Little Portugal town, where Alexis & I got catcalled about every fifteen feet.

Nice.

*Shifty eyes*

Awesome print by Alexis, who is a fantastic illustrator. If you’ve never seen her website, what are you waiting for? www.alexisbarattin.com

While I was in town, I also got to meet up with the completely amazing Wayne Barlowe, TyRuben Ellingson & Karen Ellingson. That full, frothy cider in the foreground is not my first, so unfortunately the camera was shaky in my beery hands Check out my interview with Wayne here.

Suspect but remarkably well-folliaged alley the next morning.

True dat’.

Fritz Lang, F. W. Murnau & Radiohead, represent.

“Lower Level Shops” ‘Clic Klak’ & ‘Borderline’, which made me feel both old and young at the same time.

The upper level hall of Black Market Clothing. At the lower level shop, I threw down a considerably small amount of mufti-colored Canadian dollahs’ and walked away with a 100% rad bag of screened indie tees.

Giant thimble with a little, wee man for scale.
Just kidding, he is in the background. It was still pretty big tho’.

Cute as a button. A beeeeeeegggggg button.

Giant ruler. I wonder what the scaling percentage is?…

Pretty church or church-like edifice.

Dinner with Guy ♥

Me looking goofy, happy & less cosmopolitan than I might like

So bright! My eyyyyyeeeeessssss!!!

Eternal flame, in water.

Horse police. Like Karma Police, but on horses.

Kickin’ mural.

Karen & I had the luck of being able to attend the MoMA’s Abstract Expressionist New York exhibition at the Art Gallery of Ontario. No photos of the actual exhibit, ’cause the guards were totally ready to tackle you if you breathed too hard on the Pollocks.

Karen looking radiant.

Beautiful Karen!

Guy cutting quite the silhouette at the Indian restaurant.

I like this photo, because it looks like I have giant Popeye forearms.

Pretty darn majestic fountain.

Skirt was 5 bucks at H&M. A lucky find ’cause by the end of the trip, I’d run out of clean pants xx

There’s been much hand-wringing about the recent changes to Facebook, and a mass-exodus to Google+. Now that I have a third social networking Moloch to maintain if I want to continue to be a card-carrying member of this century, it started me thinking about the enormity of connectivity through social networking as a placeholder in our history. This in turn got me thinking about the future role in the world for biographers. As an interviewer, I’m very interested in the archiving and dissection of the work of creative people. I find processes fascinating. I find how being a creative person plays into one’s personal life riveting. What will it be like years from now to examine the life of an artist if you have to troll through deluges of status updates or comments? And depending on the level of control the person had to refrain from copious online purging (a general rule of thumb is that the fewer real-life friends one has, the more they will vent on the web), what will there be left to discover at all?

Thinking this, I posted this blurt on the full trio of The Unholy Three (i.e.—Facebook, Twitter & Google+), and then popped into the bathtub:

In the future, all biographies will be boring due to the advent of social networking. Can you imagine Scorsese doing the Bob Dylan documentary by scouring Pete Seeger & Dave Van Ronk’s Twitter feeds? See, it’s not very dramatic, is it?

(The irony of posting such a thing on three different social networking sites does not escape me.)

As my cat stared into the tub trying to decipher whether the bubbles were a solid surface he could walk on, I started thinking, what if all those magnanimous figureheads of folk history had been on Twitter? What if Dylan, Seeger, Van Ronk and the whole gang had been Tweeting all the infamous drama that was going on in their community during the sixties? What if they had Twitter-arguments about the Dylan-related anecdotes that have since been immortalized in countless works about the folkies—most notably and most recently Martin Scorsese’s epic Bob Dylan documentary, No Direction Home? And what if they weren’t doing it in a refined, professional, classy way, but in a hot-headed, immature way, using typical, aggregated Twitter-speak, and being total jerk-faces to one another? What would the drama laid out in No Direction Home (and in a few other Dylan sources) have looked like in juvenile Tweet form?

I decided it would look something like this: a Twitter folk-parody I wrote with enormous love and affection for all those mentioned (and with a few embellishments for good measure). Hope Dylanphiles and folkies enjoy—

Click the cut to read it!:
( –> If you see a clickable line. Otherwise, just read below! –R. )

davevanronk
@BobbyD OMG you did NOT just steal *my* House of the Rising Sun for your 1st record?!?! #whattabitchslap

BobbyD
@davevanronk Jealous, much? #ColumbiaRecords #YeahBaby

BobbyD
@davevanronk & whatever man, it’s not like you wrote it.

davevanronk
@BobbyD Jeez Bob- it was my entire arrangement & picking style. Everyone knows that.

davevanronk
The only thing a gambler needs #isaknife #tostabhisfriendsintheback

davevanronk
@BobbyD Also, we all know you totally aped @liamclancy ‘s accent when you did his songs #yourenotevenirish

liamclancy
@davevanronk @BobbyD It’s ok lads, remember: No fear, no envy, no meanness.

paulnelson
@BobbyD Where the #%&* are my records?!!! Coming over NOW #WeHaveABowlingPin #SoNotKidding

PeteSeeger
Folk music is dead. At least, I think it is. I don’t know ‘CAUSE I CAN’T HEAR #unplugtheamp #seriously #itstooloud
(Live via Tweetdeck from The Newport Folk Festival)

PeteSeeger
CUT THE CABLE!!! #WheresAnAxeWhenYouNeedOne
(Live via Tweetdeck from The Newport Folk Festival)

PeteSeeger
#FOLKMUSICISDEAD
(Live via Tweetdeck from The Newport Folk Festival)

Now trending on Twitter: #FOLKMUSICISDEAD

BobbyD
@PeteSeeger I don’t know what to say, Pete. Please. I’m heartbroken.

Pete Seeger has blocked Bob Dylan

MariaTambourine
@BobbyD Are you ok, Bob? We’re all worried about you. Mssg me.

BobbyD
@MariaTambourine I’d message you Maria, but my hands are on fire.

JimKwesky
Hey, how come no-one asked me anything? #imean #mariaisinthedoc #hello

GeoffM
@JimKwesky Don’t feel bad, dude- I wasn’t in it either.

JoanBz
@BobbyD Love Is Just a Four-Letter Word

BobbyD
@JoanBz Okay, I guess, but why are you telling me this?

JoanBz
@BobbyD Omg Bob, you said it first.

BobbyD
@JoanBz I don’t remember that.

JoanBz
@BobbyD Whatever. I’m going to a rally. Wanna come?

BobbyD
@JoanBz Man, Joan, those are such a drag. Uhhh #imamusician #remember?

JoanBz
@BobbyD It’s cool, Bob. I’m movin’ on anyway #imsmokinhot #illbefine

davevanronk
It’s true, @BobbyD - Have you seen @JoanBz lately? #suchafox #evenhotternow #ifthatspossible

BobbyD
@davevanronk I’ve been thinking man, & that wasn’t cool what I did w/ HOTRS. I’m sorry.

davevanronk
@BobbyD It’s ok, dude. I forgive you. The Animals cover is way more popular now anyway! #hahaha #suckitdylan

TinyTim
@BobbyD Would you like to get some hamburgers?

TinyTim
#iwillgladlypayyoutuesday #forahamburgertoday

ediedolleyes
@BobbyD I love you.

BobbyD
@ediedolleyes Huh?…

ediedolleyes
@BobbyD I love you. Don’t you love me? #hello #blondeonblonde #likethewholealbum

BobbyD
@ediedolleyes Omg I don’t even know what you’re talking about #getoveryourself

AndySoupCan
@BobbyD Hands off, biatch. She’s mine. #unlessyouwannamakeadate #imliketotallyopen

AndySoupCan
@BobbyD #likesuperopen

ediedolleyes
@BobbyD @AndySoupCan You are all a bunch of jerks.

JoanBz
True ‘dat. RT @ediedolleyes “You are all a bunch of jerks.” –> @BobbyD @AndySoupCan

BNeuwirth
@BobbyD @ediedolleyes Fyi, I am not cool w/ all these rumors #ImTheOneWhoReallyDatedEdie #WTF

BNeuwirth
#ItsLikeImInvisibleIn60sHistory *sad face*

TinyTim
@ediedolleyes Would you like to get some hamburgers?

Edie Sedgewick has blocked Tiny Tim

PeteSeeger
Man, when are you kids gonna grow up? You don’t even know what real problems are!…

PeteSeeger
… I was BLACKLISTED. Do you have *any idea* what that’s like?!

PeteSeeger
#IfIHadAHammer #MaybeICouldHandleAllThisDrama

YackoFromAnimaniacs
@PeteSeeger *Mwah!* Goodnight Irene! http://bit.ly/oy35Au

WoodyFascistKiller
@BobbyD I’m not dead yet.

BobbyD
RT @WoodyFascistKiller I’m not dead yet.

BobbyD
@WoodyFascistKiller You are so awesome.

WoodyFascistKiller
@BobbyD That’s cuz’ I’m “Bound For Glory”! Lol!

Basajaun's full original cover. All photography, design and layout by me (click to enlarge).

Once upon a time, I wrote and self-published a young adult fantasy novel called Basajaun. Last summer the print run sold out, and Basajaun has been in limbo for a year.

This is what happened.

When the book was released in January of 2009, I was coming off a DIY illustration and painting background, and at the time, had no actual writing credits. I started out selling Basajaun at book fairs, on my website and at a handful of independent bookstores in Michigan and Wisconsin. Soon I heard that Barnes & Noble had a small press program where buyers would hand-select indie books to try out at Barnes & Noble stores. I submitted Basajaun to the B&N small press department and was elated when I got back an acceptance letter from their corporate office saying that they would like to try out a few copies of the book to see how the response was. The letter stipulated that all I needed to do was place Basajaun with one of their approved wholesalers / distributors. After going through the wholesaler sheet, I found that almost none of the companies listed would deal with small press books, self-publishers or publishers with only one title. I copied off the Barnes & Noble acceptance letter, put it on top of the marketing packet I’d put together for distributor submission, and approached the few distributors on the list who would even consider a a book like mine. It was rejected by all three, the last one saying, “First-time novels are just too difficult to get behind and build a platform for.” The B&N offer was dead in the water.

So at the advice of the ever-helpful Gary Reed (who patiently answered all my publishing questions) I submitted Basajaun to be carried on Amazon.com through their consignment program, Amazon Advantage. It was immediately accepted. I have heard booksellers say absolutely scathing things about Amazon, which I completely understand, but Amazon made it easy, affordable and realistic for me to access a national audience of customers with my self-published novel. That is so valuable in this transitional era of publishing. And after the disappointment I’d experienced at the caveats of the Barnes & Noble offer, I found the friendly, accessible and risk-free guidelines of the Amazon small press program a joy to encounter.

It was on Amazon that Basajaun began to generate more interest. I was heartened; I began writing a sequel. I was five chapters into the sequel in January of 2010, when my fiancee showed Basajaun to an entertainment rep who in turn showed it to his literary agent colleague. They both said many nice things about the work, and the rep offered to advise me on making revisions to the novel, with the ultimate goal of getting it into high-powered-shape to make it more appealing for wider publishing. It was a joyous but extremely anxious time—I wanted so badly for this opportunity to go well. I was concerned that this was my only shot to give Basajaun a bigger push and was hyper-vigilant about trying to do everything right. As I worked on revisions off the rep’s notes, the original edition of Basajaun continued to gain a positive response and thanks in part to Amazon, the run sold out in August of 2010. The partnership with that rep didn’t work out in the end, unfortunately, but it was still a great experience and one I learned a lot from. I have the amazingly gracious and kind T. A. Barron to thank during this time for listening to my dilemmas, and for giving me the advice I so desperately needed. I am still truly in awe of Tom and his work, and he has been one of the most singular forces in my continuing with writing at all. I don’t know what I would have done without his thoughts and support.

So in May of 2011, Basajaun was officially back in my own little paws as an independent project. The whole world was open to me, yet I had no idea how to proceed. I felt shook-up from spending a year and half following a thread that I’d believed would lead Basajaun to better places, and now I had completed two totally different versions of the manuscript—the original, self-published one, and a longer, more combed-through one with a pretty different ending. This also crossed over the time when Borders first announced bankruptcy, and it was the gasp heard round the publishing industry. I was trying to place a product in a floundering industry that had completely lost its footing. I felt like I might as well be trying to solicit investors for an abacus factory.

Ebooks were once produced using the analog format.

I had been through so many advice-generators, I no longer trusted my own instincts. I certainly didn’t trust the uncertainty of the industry or the apprehensive, baited breath of the publishing climate. I needed someone to read both versions of the novel and tell me what to do. Someone I could trust. What I also didn’t yet know I wanted was someone who shared my creative aesthetic. The reason why I’d never thought to desire this was because I wouldn’t have imagined such a thing existed.

Enter Shawna Gore.

Here is Shawna looking gorgeous while watching fireflies.

Shawna Gore is a former Dark Horse Comics editor, a powerhouse of progressive publishing knowledge, and a completely amazing human being. We had more or less met because of our mutual obsession with rabbits (really!), and she had come to be someone I called a beloved friend. Off and on for close to a year, I think, we’d had fantasies of working together, which ranged from her being my agent, to us opening an independent publishing imprint together (okay, that fantasy may have been mine). I had been keeping Shawna clued-in, somewhat, to Basajaun’s ups and downs, and to my confusion about how I should be proceeding with my career. During one of our talks, Shawna gently expressed her own interest in the book, or in working with me on something else, should the opportunity arise in the future. This possibility knocked around in the background of my thoughts, growing more pretty and appealing as it turned itself over and over. So when Basajaun was free again a few months later, I called her and asked if she still had an interest in Basajaun, would she like to read both versions of the novel and advise me on what elements to keep and what to scrap? She said yes, and moreover, she offered to edit it as well.

For the first time in months, I felt inspired about Basajaun again.

Shawna and I are currently in the editing process of what will be the new edition of Basajaun, and we don’t have much left to complete now. Working with her has by far been the most easy, natural, exciting and helpful artistic give-and-take I’ve ever had, professionally, with another person about my own work. I’m DIY and hands-on to the core, so I’m most accustomed to going through my creative process in isolation. It’s not that I have any complaints about my previous experiences going over my work with others, because I love hearing the perspectives of a variety of people and am always grateful when someone takes the time and effort to offer feedback on what I do. But Shawna and I click in a way, creatively, that makes the editing and brainstorming experience feel inspired and alive. If I could hand-pick any editor in the publishing industry, I doubt I could find anyone as well-suited to my work as her. I feel very, very fortunate to be working with her—not only because I know she currently has people beating down her door with independent projects, but also because Shawna is an editor whose intentions you can trust, who values the uniqueness of creators’ individual visions, and who offers feedback in a very proactive and ingestable way. Somehow, she is able to advise in a manner that feels genuine to and consistent with the work she’s editing.

Further evidence to support why Shawna and I are well-suited to work together.

The fact that she’s also completely awesome is just a bonus.

I’m looking forward to sharing more news about the new edition of Basajaun as it unfolds! Until then, stay tuned here for a sneak-peek sample, coming soon!

<3 –R.

And if you haven’t already, be sure to check out my newest interview for The Idler with comic book writer John Arcudi.

The rest of the Cali pics!
Click the cut link to see moar’ moar’ moar’!Last year, our dear pals Chris & Kassandra moved from Michigan to LA. We miss them like crazy, so we were soooo happy to get the chance to catch up with them while we were in Cali, see their swank new pad, & meet their new little cat-baby, Simon!

Kassandra has a cat face!

I dub thee, *Sir* Simon!

Simon is kewte’.

Simon is stretchy.

Simon is alert!

Palm tree row.

Cool & creepy abandoned house.

I think Boo Radley lives here. I wanna walk back & forth in front of it dressed as a ham to see if I can entice him to come out.

Weird wizard converted from an old Santa. This was up the street from the restaurant where we sat at the table behind Kirstie Alley.

To the mountains!

Gorgeous day.

Almost a panoramic shot.

Awww!

Blurry! But awww.

Kassandra with a wildflower & in Guy’s sunglasses

Finally, a shot of Guy & I that wasn’t taken at arm’s length.

Fly up high like a birdie.

Back to Malibu– yay!

Gettin’ feets-ready to step in the water.

Kassandra & Chris.

Here we go!

Action shot!

The ocean is wide.

(I see you two bein’ cute!)

Kassandra almost goes overboard!

Gratuitous beach shot.

Foamy feets.

The coming tide.

Kass & her shadow.

The menz’.

This picture is real.

A stop on one of the mountain routes.

Great, big copper-colored metal building at the tippy-top of one of the vast mountains.

As far as the eye can see.

Katamari trees. With a bigger Katamari, you can roll anywhere!

Chris surveys the playground equipment.

He needs a push!

Kassandra goes for the gold!

Omg mountains.

One side of the Jurassic Park canyon drive…

& the other side. Don’t fall!

*Wink*

Me being an absolute cheeseball & asking Guy to take a picture of the outfit I put together: pastels– a rarity!

Fountain at night.

The same bronze fountain from post 1, this time at night.

The walk behind one of the Italian restaurants we had dinner at.

Pulling faces #2.

& the last picture I took in Cali. Goodbye!