Really, what could be better to wake up to? Pitchfork: Stephen Colbert vs. The Decemberists. Here's the direct link to the Comedy Central Motherload video, wherein Colbert challenges the Decemberists during a segment titled "Who's Riding My Coattails Now?"

And then, finally, counterchallenge! Decemberists double-challenge Colbert. My favorite part of the whole thing?

Furthermore, we'd like to announce the very first 'Decemberists vs Stephen Colbert Guitar Solo Challenge'. Put down the pen, Colbert, and pick up the axe! Let's see what kind of a man you really are-- let's SHRED. Let truth and good music prevail!!!

Wow.  Cool.  I got a response to my post about Burroughs (over at my blogger account, not here), from the editor/webmaster of the Burroughs tribute site group.  I thought I ought to mention what he told me, cause it's good info.  Only the first few Carter books are public domain, and most of the characters &c. are still copyrighted. 

Also, he mentioned two of Burrough's books that are considered some of the most pro-Indian pieces of the twentieth century:  The War Chief and The Apache Devil.  I didn't know about those, so thanks for letting me know.  And now I let others know.  Truly, the circle of life is grand, especially when it's a circle of literature, and not life.  ^_^

Huh. Apparently Burrough's John Carter stories are public domain now. I've read A Princess of Mars, I bought it last semester, and it's a lot of fun. It has several uncomfortable moments for the modern reader, because Carter, true to his time, is quite the racist, especially about Native Americans. But, I just marked that down under "verisimilitude" and wandered off into a good story about kidnapping red chicks and fighting big green ape-things. Good stuff. Here's the first chapter under Wikisource. It links on to the rest. I recommend it. And it's free.

I wonder if the other books are around somewhere, then...

Anyway. Other stuff. Ganked from Wil Shetterly's blog, Steven Brust's Advice to Aspiring Writers. Brust writes the Vlad Taltos books, so some of you out there should be interested. One of my favorite pieces of advice? "4. Concentrate on basics, such as grammar, and constructing a good sentence. If you can write a good sentence, you can do any form of writing." There are a few there I like, but don't do at all, such as number one -- don't tell anyone you're writing a novel. : ) Shetterly deals with that afterwards -- it's different for different people. But Brust is funny, and really talks more about attitude and work ethic.

Another from Shetterly's blog, by him this time: Three Stories into One: a Key to Plotting and an End to Writer's Block. This is good as well, and highlights why I get irritated with people when they complain about writer's block -- it usually means they're just not putting their mind to the right fulcrum. My nearest bout of what one might call writer's block happened when I wrote that first novel, once I got three of the four main characters together. The fourth showed up, found their books for them (she worked at the library), and helped them puzzle out a prophecy (in an attempt at humor, they figure it out very quickly -- not sure how that'll hold up when I go back to it). Suddenly I couldn't move forward.

What to do? Well, if I had listened to all the LiveJournal posts ever, in the history of ever, I would have complained about it, and slumped in defeat for two weeks, derailing my work ethic and writing process. Instead, I lay down in the "library," spread-eagle, staring up at the ceiling, working out what the problem could possibly be. After five minutes I had twirled the different dials, and the one that caught was Asphodel -- why in the hell, one part of my brain said to another, would she leave her home, family, and nice job to help these crazy people that just showed up?

So I applied those two parts of my brain, and all the rest. Twenty minutes later, after one encounter with my father ("It's four in the morning? What are you doing up? On the floor?"), I had clicked all the pieces into place. Well, obviously, I said to myself, as Dad had gone back to bed, she doesn't think they can get the job done. She's much smarter than the main character, after all.

And I was back to writing, where I did 100 more words, saved, and went to sleep, to get up the next day and fill out the first few scenes I would need. Wee, and the like.

Yes, I do still have a paper to write, what's it to you? I'm not puzzled, it's just tedious. I know all the stuff, there's nothing new to discover as I'm typing. Sigh. Okay, back to medieval monks and their unconscious mirroring of Celtic myth. Or something. Maybe food.

"you'll be pushing up the daisies in the old boneyard"

Argh. So, we managed to nearly double the amount of time it took me to drive from home to Richmond today. My car screwed up in a new, exciting way, and almost halfway I stopped at a rest area, and Dad insisted, over the phone, that I wait for him to show up, so he could check it out, and drive it to Richmond with me following in his car.

Hell, I enjoy driving my parents' car -- it's a newer model of what I have, its brakes function properly, and it accepts gasoline in an expeditious manner. So I slumped on the slightly chill tile of the rest area -- no seats anywhere -- and read most of a short story.

Then the car acted mostly better, after Dad poured some crap in the tank that's supposed to deal with water in the gas. I dunno. It still doesn't accelerate the way it actually should, but it goes, and that is, traditionally, what I look for in a car.

Incidentally, the magazine I was reading? Weird Tales! It's still (after some stops, and management changes) in print. And they're very honest about how Lovecraft is what gives them a market presence. So, that's another market for me to submit to, and also, I liked all the stories I read it in, whereas a lot of the pieces in Fantasy and Science-Fiction Magazine bugged me. So woo.

Oh, and I tried Pernod over the break, with my dad. He enjoyed it more than I did, though I mean to try again, and make sure I use the proper amount of sugar and water. Anyway.

The thing that actually convinced me to open the update program was that I just started Goldfinger, one of the Fleming Bond novels. It's, er, odd. One chapter in, and I have no idea what Bond looks like, though Fleming indulged in the all-too-common APB (all points bulletin) description with the first character Bond encounters in the second chapter. Super. I mean, at least in fantasy novels they're probably not dressed like any preppie asshole on the streets, yeah -- there's a reason heavy-handed writers might be tempted to stop everything to pile on details about how someone looks, with no reference to any other senses. At least Fleming had a nice sensual description in there: his hands were like "mud packs shaped like hands, or an inflated rubber glove." The mud pack thing could have been something special, but I often slide into multiple comparisons myself, so I can't fault Fleming too much for that.

The narrator/Bond (it's in third person, but so far there hasn't been a difference, really) has only referred to women once, so far, and that as "whatever tart he pick[ed] up that night." Yay, misogyny.

Oh, my parents got me a new phone as a sort-of early Christmas present. Really, we were able to get new phones on our contracts, and mine sucked like a dockside ragamuffin in a Navy town. I'm a consumer whore, and my parents like shiny things, so we have two Motorola Razr phones between us. We had to find a new homescreen background for their phone, so we wouldn't mix them up. Of course, I can't get the pictures from it still, as now I need some proprietary software, or some crap like that. Ah well.