Oh, Monday, I feel none of your promise /
and all of the life left to me lies bundled up /
in bed dreaming and believing /
in a Monday yet to be.
Q.: What is the capital of the United States of Zombies?
A.: Brainerd, Minnesota.
Q: What’s the nickname of the United States of Zombies?
A: The Brain Drain.
Q.: What do you call a Zombie sink?
A.: A Brain Drain.
[Editor's note: You could call this finding old friends through fictional characters. It's interesting what storytelling can achieve.]
Dale Morton was 43 years old when his childhood fantasy came true.
He walked through the red turbolift doors and found himself standing on the bridge of the USS Enterprise.
The screens were all lit up, the lights were all blinking and it was all Morton could do to keep his welling emotions under control.
There, in the middle, room was the command chair where Captain Kirk recorded so many of his famous captain’s logs.
“I’m standing in the place where Kirk usually stands. I’m standing in his point of view,” Morton said.
To his right was the station where Commander Spock dutifully monitored the spaceship’s shields.
A few steps over was the panel, where engineer Montgomery Scott would crank the ship’s engines until he was “giving her all she’s got, Captain.”
Morton wasn’t really aboard the Enterprise, obviously, but it was the closest possible thing.
Here is a novel turned into a graphic novel.
An example of the getting more mileage (pardon the pun) out of the same material. This was discussed in a blog post on July 7th: http://talltalestogo.wordpress.com/2014/07/02/7-things-every-twenty-first-century-writer-needs-to-do-phoenix-magazine/
This is probably one of those blogs I shouldn’t write, but impulsivity and I are old, old friends. (Remember that time I decided to wear only clothes from Wal-Mart for a year? Yeah.)
I get a lot of very generous feedback about my writing. Some of it in the form of reviews, some of it direct to my inbox. It’s the kind of feedback that keeps me going, writing the next book or story. It helps me put out the flames of self-doubt when they come shooting out of my brain, obliterating the words before they can take shape on the page. I won’t say that I can’t live without it, but it surely makes my work easier to put out there. You know. Welcoming arms and all.
I’ve never addressed a reviewer directly, and I won’t do it now. But there’s a thread that runs through some of the uglier criticism of my novels and stories that I think is worth mentioning and examining.
Vulgar is a word that’s commonly used. Lurid as well (though it was used in conjunction with entertainingly, which I rather liked). My favorite and most recent hint that all is not hunky dory in my world is the observation that I must have a sordid mind.
It does make me think. It makes me wonder if,
To read the rest of the essay: http://www.laurabenedict.com/rough-stuff-in-which-i-discuss-being-accused-of-having-a-sordid-mind/