How to Succeed in Evil » 2008 » August

…for I will not desert you.

It’s a paraphrase from one of my favorite parts of Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman. And even though I haven’t been podcasting, I have not abandoned well, the faith, let us say.

The book proceeds. Such arrogance to attempt such a long work, but it goes well. I can’t say that knowing what I know right this minute that I would attempt it again, but I will finish the thing if’n it kills me. Surely, the next one will be easier.

But mostly, what’s been keeping me hopping is paying work. Too much of it in fact. I outsold my ability to do work. And I didn’t have the structure in place to make me more efficient. It is very much a transitional time for me professionally and creatively. And, as exciting as it is, it’s not too conducive to podcasting. What can I say? A couple of things really.

1) Sorry, a man’s gotta eat. And given the current economic climate, this squirrel is going to store as many nuts as possible whilst he can.

2) All this work now, means money hoarded (like nuts, man this analogy just won’t quit) for more writing later.

So, for everybody who’s hanging in there, thanks. For those who aren’t, well, you’re not reading this post now are you?

Here’s the Whitman. I’m knuckling tight.

I understand the large hearts of heroes,
The courage of present times and all times;
How the skipper saw the crowded and rudderless wreck of the steam-ship, and Death chasing it up and down the storm;
How he knuckled tight, and gave not back one inch, and was faithful of days and faithful of nights,
And chalk’d in large letters, on a board, Be of good cheer, we will not desert you:
How he follow’d with them, and tack’d with them—and would not give it up;
How he saved the drifting company at last:
How the lank loose-gown’d women look’d when boated from the side of their prepared graves;
How the silent old-faced infants, and the lifted sick, and the sharp-lipp’d unshaved men:
All this I swallow—it tastes good—I like it well—it becomes mine;
I am the man—I suffer’d—I was there.

So somebody once said, that authors only really write about themselves. And maybe that’s true. Consider Ian Fleming.

Fleming had a good war but fought it all from behind his desk in Whitehall.

Peter Smithers, a colleague in naval intelligence, said: “Ian constantly longed to be personally engaged in the excitement. He was of an essentially aggressive nature. It was the repression of all these desires by authority, quite rightly, which in my opinion fired the imagination engaged in his books.”

After the war Fleming became a journalist again and then a writer, dashing off “Casino Royale” in 1952 and 11 further Bond novels before his death in 1964, at the age of 56.

Pretty stupid to want to be personally engaged in the excitement of war. Because the punchline to all that excitement is invariably death. But you can pretty clearly see how he acted out a latent fantasy with the character of Bond.

So what about me? Well, it’s frighteningly simple. On many occasions I’ve given people advice as a consultant and they didn’t listen. Many, many people have these experiences. Waiters, IT professionals, tour guides, car salesmen, managers, really just about everybody. And it’s tremendously frustrating.

It would be an oversimplification to say that Edwin is how only I took out my frustration. There’s a bunch of satire working in How to Succeed in Evil. And, I hope, a critique of the ways people take themselves too seriously. But if you were to look a link between Edwin and I (or Edwin and any reader) it would be that frustration with people you are trying to help who insist on doing stupid things.

So I have a t-shirt somewhere that says “Evo is my God” — he was giving them out at DragonCon a couple of years ago. He’s a magnificent bastard, not self-effacing, but.. Anyway, I think Evo’s spot on. I think I’ll start doing podcasts of the process. You will NEED to tell me if it becomes boring and self-indulgent.

Yes, there will be a few spoilers. But really, who cares? Spoilers only ruin the most venial kind of storytelling. Take, for example, good old William Shakespeare. He had a habit of giving away the whole story in the first minute of the play.

1 Two households, both alike in dignity,
2 In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
3 From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
4 Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
5 From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
6 A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life;
7 Whose misadventured piteous overthrows
8 Do with their death bury their parents’ strife,
9 The fearful passage of their death-mark’d love,
10 And the continuance of their parents’ rage,
11 Which, but their children’s end, nought could remove,
12 Is now the two hours’ traffic of our stage;
13 The which if you with patient ears attend,
14 What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.

Sometimes it’s tricky to see things clearly through the Elizabethan English. Two families hate each other. Their kids fall in love and then commit suicide. That’s the whole story. But Swounds Man! It doesn’t take one whit away from the play. Because the question of all great imaginative fiction is not how or what but why? Crappy Sci-Fi cares about how the teleporter works. Great Sci-Fi cares about why, when the teleporter can only save your wife or your son, you choose who you do. In fact, that’s all of great writing.

As another example, here’s a bit of scene where Topper convinces Edwin to sue Excelsior (basically Superman). That completely spoils the piece, but, even knowing that, I’ll wager you enjoy it thoroughly.

“You really think we can sue him?”, asked Edwin

“I know we can. It’s called the law. And if anybody can twist it to work in your favor, it’s me. But more importantly than that, we’ll have public opinion on our side. It will be fun, easy and profitable. And I know how you like profit.”

“But he’s a costumed hero. Beloved by the masses he protects.”

“Beloved? No, he’s famous. He famous because he can fly and bullets bounce off his chest. He’s not famous because he’s a talented guy. He’s not famous because he’s a nice guy. People like the show, the don’t give a shit about the person. In fact, they secretly dislike him.”

“You mean you secretly dislike him.”

“You’re goddamned right I dislike him. I actually have a secret grudge against everybody who’s taller than I am. Excepting you big fella. You’re so freakishly tall, it wraps around, I actually feel a little kinship. The world wasn’t made to fit either of us. Anyway,” Topper shook off this line of thinking like a dog shaking off water, “my point is, how do you like a guy who constantly reminds you that you’re inferior? You might kiss his ass in case you need him. You might put him on the Christmas card list for getting little fluffy out of that Elm tree,”

Now that Topper was all revved up, Edwin couldn’t resist, “Elm?”

“Maple, pine, spruce, it can be a friggin Juniper bush for all I care. Point is, he’s arrogant. Prideful. And what does pride goeth before?” The pause became so long it was no longer rhetorical.

Reluctantly Edwin said, “A fall?”

“Not anymore my lanky friend. These days, pride goeth before settling out of court for a big fat wad of sweaty cash.”

“Would that be the proverbial wad of sweaty cash?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you like. Let’s just get this asshole.”

“Is this personal for you?”

“Yeah it’s personal. It’s always personal with me. That’s why I’m so good. come on Ed, this is a guy, you tell him to take a flying fuck at a rolling donut, he can actually take a flying fuck at a rolling donut? Who likes that guy? Wait, don’t answer that. I’m your laywer I’ll answer for you. Nobody. Nobody likes that guy.”

So the old email box has been flooded in the last week. And everybody is asking the same question. What in the hell is going on?

The only thing I find lacking in your work to date is the lack of quantity. I enjoy Edwin, as well as the short stories of yours I came across in Voices: New Media Fiction. Do you currently have any ETA or status update for your loyal fans?

Yes I do. I’ve completed the first draft of the novel. And I’m about a third of the way through the rewrite. I’m good for about a chapter a day. And I’m on chapter 14 now. That’s about 26,000 words rewritten out of a target of 80ish. The beginning has gone a little slower than I would have liked because I’ve added a couple of charcters and an entire subplot.

I am also rather curious about how much progress you’ve made in the last three months.

Me too. Or curious as to how hard it got there for a little while. I’ve found that if I try and put the hurry up on it (like I sometimes do with my shorter work) it always, always comes out bad. But if you just plug away at it every day at the same time in a workmanlike fashion, it comes together faster than you expect. Mostly, I had to clear my head from all the garbage of previous incarnations to write this clearly and well.

I was highly entertained and can’t wait for any other items that may off shoot from this story.

You know, I could easily spend my time doing more audio episodes. And I have no end of ideas for off-shoots and spin offs. But I feel that would mean that this is as far as the story will go. No, it’s time for a more communicable form. So the time I can spare from my life (which there’s less and less of) is devoted to the novel.

So I have a question for all of you. I’m thinking about podcasting the novel as I work on this rewrite. I have some reservations about this, not from a media standpoint, but from an artistic standpoint. The episodes as they exist are more along the lines of notes. Thoughts on toward a character and a story. What I’m trying to do by writing the novel is have a full and complete, fully realized story. But there’s a difficulty with this

What if the story changes?

Sure that sounds stupid, but, believe me. It’s happened to me more than once as I’ve written this novel . It started off in the direction I wanted, then it changed dramatically. And for the better.

And I don’t know if my fear makes any sense. I’m just looking for some way to get this thing done and appeal you slavering (and much loved) fans. Thoughts anybody?

So I’m printing the first draft. It’s the biggest thing I’ve ever printed. 200 pages on 8.5 x 11 paper. I even jiggered the margins so it would be smaller. It’s a big moment. The thing is a big brawling mess. I’m pretty sure my toner cartridge is going to completely blow it’s wad.

Hey, lookie there, there goes page 100. Halfway there.

Some of the chapters are little more than an outline — a description, or a key bit of dialog. But all the pieces are there. Rough and incomplete as it may be, I have written a novel. I know that the first draft of everything sucks. (Quite intimately) But it is a first draft. Huzzah.

Now it’s time to read it through and see if I can make anything good out of this gangly pile of words.

So I just got a nice comment on the last episode of the El Justiador podcast from a guy named Julian. http://succeedinevil.com/2007/09/16/el-justiador-part-5/ I assume he’s Australian because his email shows up with a .au ending. And the bit that jumped out at me was

> Within a few days I had managed to find time for something I had previously no interest in and had listened to the lot.

It is exactly the kind of thing that keeps me going. It means I have something worth working into a longer form. As I have thought about it with my Edwin hat on (amazing how a character gets under your skin) the real cost of a book or movie is not the amount that one pays for it. It’s the amount you pay plus the cost of your time to ingest it. And time is pretty damn scarce. There’s a thousand, million, billion other things that someone could do with their time other than get involved with my little story. So I really appreciate it.

>I loved every podcast except for Edwin 2.0 which I felt lacked everything about Edwin that I liked and instead replaced him with a bad >stereotype that could be found in any crappy novel/film/podcast. So I was glad when I listened to Edwin 2.0 Part 2 that you had killed the >character off after listening to your fans feedback.

Yeah. Sometimes you just have to try something to see if it works or not. It’s kind of an awkward blot in the feed, but I also think it’s kind of cool that I got to try something like that with a pretty large group of people. I think it’s a uniquely web/decentralized media experience.

>My only other complaint with How to Succeed in Being Evil is the lack of quantity. The quality is fantastic and I’m sure it’s hard to keep >up that good work. However you are obviously a talented writer and story teller so all I can beg of you is keep it coming. I know I will lap i> t up and I’m sure many others will too.

The reason the output has slowed to a glacial pace is because I’m writing the novel. I’m at 62,000 words. With a little luck (and a good tailwind) I should have the draft finished by the end of the month.

Edna’s tough for a couple of reasons. One, I haven’t quite figured out what she should do in the story. I’ve got her voice pretty well nailed, but I don’t know what she has at stake. But then again, what does Moneypenny have at stake in any of the Bond novels.

The real dilemma with Edna is about changing her name. Edna and Edwin are oddly close. Disconcertingly close, one might say. And it wasn’t a choice I made consciously. Perhaps I was just E-happy that day. But I’m loathe to change it. But what’s in a name. By any other name, Edna would still be an awesome character.

Edwin had spent the entire morning trying to explain to Lifto the magnificent why he shouldn’t rob banks.

“But that’s where the money is!”, Lifto protested, bursting into laughter as if he had said one of the most original things in the long-winded history of saying things. Lifto was disappointed when, instead of joining in the hearty guffaw, Edwin searched for a non-existent speck of dirt underneath his perfectly manicured fingernails.

Lifto did not know quite how to react to this. It was not the kind of response he was used to getting. In fact, this whole morning had been strange. Windsor had come highly recommended, but Lifto felt that something was a little odd. If he had the time, or the inclination, to think about anything other than himself, he might have begun to suspect that he was not wanted. And this suspicion would have been given birth by the woman in the lobby.

Lifto had entered the office and announced himself loudly. “Lifto is here!”

Edna said nothing. In fact, her face did not move at all. After a moment’s consideration, she gave a small sniff. As sniffs, go, it was the third most contemptuous sniff of all time.

You see, Lifto the Magnificent was not, in any conventional sense of the word, magnificent. He was squat, hairy and insisted on wearing a purple unitard everywhere he went. When he became excited (which he did often) his complexion grew a shade of deep red that can only be described as purple’s mortal enemy. He was a hideous creature, prone to fits of absurd melodrama.

When it was cold, like this particular morning, he would wrap himself in a fake leopard skin. But that was all pyrotechnics as far as Edna was concerned. She noticed two things. The slavic accent. And the lack of pants.

She quickly assumed that he was a savage.

I have no idea what black, gleeful part of my soul this character came from. But God do I love this bloodthirsty little guy. Here he is talking to Edwin.

“If you messed with my head like that, you be lucky if I didn’t dress up in a Tooth Fairy costume and pipe bomb your house.”

What about this one.

“What are you talking about. Sure, the devil may be the patron saint of all defense lawyers, but God loves me. I’m meek.” He leaned out the window to scream at a minivan. “Outta the way urinal puck! We’re not getting any younger!” When he pulled his head back in the car he continued as if nothing had happened. “That’s why I’m going to inherit the earth.”

Every single time I write him, he tries to take over the story.

So I’ve recently had some questions about the comic. And we don’t have anymore printed. But, I do have a pdf of the the completed and colored first issue. Call it a Christmas present to the faithful and the early adopters.

It seems like it’s safe to announce the thing. Kind of like a pregnancy, it’s gone on long enough that the doctors are pretty sure it’s going to go to term.

I’ve never written a novel before. I was always afraid of it. I though that writing a screenplay was easier. And I can not emphasize how WRONG I WAS. Screenplays are difficult. One might be misled into thinking they might be easier because there are fewer words on a page. One might also be misled by thinking, just because you can write dialog that, screenplays (or perhaps television) are likewise easy. These things are simply not the case.

But I guess it all depends on what you’re wired for. And, evidently, I’m wired for novels. Because it’s going pretty well. Sure, sure, the first draft of everything is shit. And to be certain those 44k words are a big, brawling mess. But it’s a big mess on it’s way someplace. And that’s very exciting.

So if I’ve been a little lax on the podcasting front, it’s because I’ve been writing. And, before that, busting my ass to save the money to get some time to write.

I’ll be posting excerpts and updates along the way. And I’ll have to record some parts to share. Honestly, Topper doesn’t lose too much on the printed page, by every time I write his dialog I want to read it. (good sign).

So thank to everybody for bearing with. It means a lot.