Inkblot Panorama 1

Okay, you wanna know why I haven't been posting lately? I've been depressed. Not the kind that scares me but definitely the kind that scares shrinks. I just haven't been taking a whole lot of pleasure in life, and I haven't been able to convince myself that there's any more coming. Bullshit, I know -- but rational argument only goes so far when confronting an emotional condition.

But for the next few days you can expect a buttload of posts. Twin deadlines have made it imperative that I art like a ringtailed bastard -- and actually, the prospect has me feeling a bit more cheerful.

Here's the deal.

I have to have a new print ready to show by next Thursday. And I also need to start serious work on the production for the next issue of Swill. (It's gonna be a good one, I'm telling you. We've got some great stuff in there.)

I'm taking a different tack on the art this time. I'm going to produce a number -- two, three, maybe four -- of big detailed prints based on inkblots and other randomly-generated grayscale visuals. I'm going to digitally assemble them into extremely detailed imaginary landscapes and then color them. They'll then be printed up at large size -- 20" x 48".

Then I'll take smaller selections from these prints and convert them to black and white for use in the magazine -- and then take those black and white images and make large-scale colored versions for use as prints. A back-and-forth process-oriented approach. And as with the last series I'm going to use them as visual inspiration for the novel.

Right now the most time-consuming issue is going to be scanning. If I can get my scanning done today I'll be happy -- but that might not happen. The really big scans take forever, but the allow me a lot more flexibility in executing the work. There's a ten-to-one ratio between my largest scans and the finished work, so I can cover the entire canvas with a section of inkblot that's 2 x 4.8 inches -- with all the detail of random ink and paper texture and everything working for me.

I've also started messing around with putting globs of black and white tempera or acrylic paints onto a piece of paper, mixing them roughly with a toothpick, then pressing another piece of paper on top of them, then pulling the papers apart. It's generating very organic coral-like textures. The deck is full of those right now...

More later.

On Reading My Novel For The First Time

Behold! The miracle of lack of inspiration, followed by a quick 'Fill up the damned page, already.' Color helps...

Well, it's been a while since I posted. Not to go into it but it's starting to seem as if you can track my manic and depressive states by observing the frequency with which I blog...

Anyway.

I finally heard back from another reader on the novel. She was quite enthusiastic. It was really encouraging -- it seemed as though what I was trying for was coming through. Among other things, I'm deliberately attempting to write a very masculine work that doesn't crap on women -- one of the central themes is that of masculine identity in a post-feminist society. She said she thought of it as a feminist novel. I very consciously visualized the scenes as I wrote. I could have storyboarded them. She told me that she could see the scenes as she read. Cool! It went on like that for some time. Frankly, I ate it up with a spoon. I'm developing an unseemly fondness for praise.

Her criticisms were quite useful -- the main one was something I'd been planning to do (compress chapters two and three into one chapter and dump most of the characters introduced there) and the other was something I'd set up to do and then forgotten about (make the events of the story dovetail with the desires of the lead character). She also gave me some sparse but very good line edits.

So I read the thing myself. It was the first time I'd sat down and gone through the current version. I have more work to do than I thought -- two of the main characters are a lot less sympathetic than I intended, among other things. But it's a pretty decent read.

This is going to sound like rampant egotism, but I was really disappointed. It was very good -- a solid, fast-paced adventure story. It was well-written. It had some thematic depth. Some real invention. I honestly think it's better than most genre fiction.

But it wasn't great.

That's just pathetic -- finding myself tore up because I haven't written a classic work of literature. Well, that isn't really what I was aiming for -- but I want to produce something that will be a (god help me) minor classic in its own little niche. A great fantasy that has some real resonance. But there we go. We dream in fire and work in clay...

On the other hand, this is just the first volume and while it's a satisfying read on its own, it is just the introduction to the situation. It will get deeper as it goes along. Most of what I'm trying for comes later -- I'm gonna try and tear the reader's heart out in volume two and nurse them back to life in volume three.

We shall see. We shall see.

Baffu's First Story Complete.

For your reading convenience, the whole story is in the comment section of this post. Strictly rough draft, completely off the top of my head -- but I think it's a solid start.

That said, I have no idea what the title is.

Baffu's First Story: Part Nine

“Good enough,” Doctors said. “Good enough.” Then he looked at the potted plant and got up from his couch. While he had been speaking the rain had thinned and then stopped, though clouds still hid the world beyond the sky. “I think the buds have been softened enough for the blossoms to…”

Baffu got up and went to the plant. Doctors was right; one of the buds was splitting. Baffu held his finger out and the blossom crawled onto it, seeming grateful for the warmth. Its cluster of crinkled petals pulsed and swelled, turning into wings. Its eyes glowed with the internal light of coals under ash.

Full text in comments.

Baffu's First Story: Part Eight

“You mean whore’s paisley,” Baffu said. “I’ve heard that after a time it turns women into men.”

“Not so, not so,” Doctors said. “But it does have certain… unfortunate cosmetic effects. Thusly, it is only used on the lowest grade of prostitute, one whose employer intends to use and discard them. Now if I may return to the story – and I trust you’re paying attention?”

Baffu nodded.

Full text in comments.

Baffu's First Story: Part Seven

Doctors stared out at the potted plant with its struggling luminous buds in silence, then drained his cup. Baffu picked opened a third bottle and poured for both of them.

“So?” he asked.

“So, indeed,” Doctors said. “The next time the Justice of Black and Gray saw the student the young man lacked the modest dignity that had formerly been his hallmark; the student turned this way and that, his scholar’s robe open so that his private parts were displayed to any who cared to look. That is because his sash was around his neck and he hung from a rafter in his room. It was the restauranteur who found him when the smell of the student was stronger than the smell of cooking."

Full text in the comments.

Baffu's First Story: Part Six

He gestured to a plaque on the wall; it was much like the one Baffu had seen in the court where Doctors acted as judge but older and simpler in design. Carved out of fine-grained ivory and inlayed with colored wood and shell, it showed four figures, posed close together; a tall stern man with a dour face, a calm woman with a look of keen intelligence, a dark angry youth, and a gently smiling girl with downcast eyes.

“Kneel before them,” Doctors said. It was a command.

Full text in the comments.