Munk Davis

Munk on Sabbatical

2011-10-28T16:12:00.000-07:00

"Piss on the fire, call in the dogs, head it on back to Bowlegs."

Munk needs to focus less on blogging and more on noveling. This post, therefore, is the last you will see posted on my blog for what may be a very long time, years even.

Yes, of course I will miss your comments. And yes, of course I care. I will try to stop by your places from time to time, I promise. Please stop looking at me that way… oh, damn… I promised myself I wouldn’t cry… gimme a sec…

Okay, I'm back, but I just can’t keep blogging guys, my family and work justifiably take the lion’s share of my time, and the truth is, Booker is in trouble—he needs me.

So, here’s the deal, should you wish to converse, and/or share critiques on queries or manuscripts, email me at munkdavis@gmail.com. I would love to hear from you. For any new visitors… here are a few popular bygone posts… Sweet Munk Nothings, Emperius Rapturius, and Damn that Munk, and a couple of posts on writing… Munk Rules, and Love-a-Roll-a-Coasta... and then, of course, there's this one... Bubba.

If anyone asks, tell them I’m writing.

Munk’s opening line…

By turning the page, he had turned on the world.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Music: The Nerny-Nerny-Nert-Band: Bowlegs

Munk out.

Hey Baby, What's your Genre?

2011-10-20T17:00:00.000-07:00

What is your genre? What is your line?

Fiction and diction, coarse or divine?

Commercial for fun or classical prose?

The Code of Da Vinci or Name of the Rose?

Vampires you say! Why not call it romance?

Where zombies and werewolves all come to the dance

Dramedy, comedy, horror, and gore

Mystery, history, tales of yore

Yoga, Pilates, organics, and health

Follow my teachings and find instant wealth

Home repair? Don’t despair, fixed in a jiff

I’ll write you a book about making it stiff

Fantasy’s fun... but don’t write on a lark

You first must decide if it’s light or it’s dark

For lollipop-fairies might get quite a start

From leprechauns dining on unicorn heart

Pay homage to comics; no longer cartoons,

with mutants and heroes and high school buffoons

Now graphical novels sell fine-art with type...

Is the art any finer or is it just hype?

I once knew a bloke, who called sci-fi a joke

And said later Han Solo was his kind of folk

And what of the man who “pays thrillers no mind”

But thinks Lisbeth Salander is so very fine?

By now you must know my tastes are diverse

It’s less about subject and more about verse

I can cozy with spies or golems or ghouls

As long as the teller sticks to some rules

Character, plotting, and scenes are a must

As are pace and the voice of an author I trust

And though some may define me a maudlin mope

I just can’t do themes with no glimmer of hope

So write genres you love, and love what you write

Mix 'em and match 'em, let stories take flight

Throw three in a blender and give 'em a spin…

Say….

an epic-gay-western with magic thrown in?

Munk’s Opening line,

With the brim of his ten-gallon Stetson pulled low on his brow, Jake’s blue eyes glistened in the residual silver light—a mumbled incantation and the deed was done.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

And lest you consider what I write poetry...

This week’s music: Joe Pug...an old soul in a new vessel... Hymn 101

Priorities

2011-10-14T22:12:00.000-07:00

I am willing to do most anything in pursuit of a noveling career: writing, reading, reviewing, revising, kissing ass, querying, blogging, tweeting, social networking, anti-social networking, white-lying, dark-magicking, or simply munkeying around, I’ll do anything short of bold face lying, stepping on my fellows, or sacrificing my family’s needs.

I am dedicated to having a writing career: I therefore write, read, review and revise my work while blogging and tweeting to build a platform and never losing sight of my family's needs.

In order to create a better experience for my readers, I write, read, review, and revise my work. Blogging and tweeting are also important. As always, my family comes first.

I am willing to do what it takes in pursuit of becoming a better writer, husband, and father. I'll try to blog

Compelling stories, compelling lies. I love my family. blog

Create the unforgettable. Love thy family. blah

Love thy family, love thy writing.

Love thy passions.

There... that’s better.

What are your priorities?

Munk's opening line
The depths to which Lucifer fell,
can no more be judged by meters or miles,
than his hell can be measured by mercury's rise.
Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Susan Kaye Quinn gave me a nod this week and here's a hearty nod back... she has a book release planned for November 1... Open Minds is the first title in the Mindjack Trilogy... I'm ordering one. Are you?

This week: rock as it was meant to be rolled.
Bob Seger, Get Out of Denver (Baby Go)
Up walked a Baptist preachin' southern funky school teacher... (I think)

Drink Up

2011-10-08T22:46:00.000-07:00

For whom do you write? When you sit down and scribble or tap, who is your inspiration? Not that it matters really, there is no write answer (as it were), I’m just curious.

I used to think writing was just and noble, but it didn’t take me long to realize that, for me, writing is an addiction. Hearing kids giggle is my perfect drug, a powerful and addictive intoxicant with few negative side effects. The worst of which being the one where I measure my writing against everyone else’s in the entire world… everyone’s… everywhere. I can’t stop.

My wife hears it all. I’ve become a walking critique machine without a power button… don’t need one… the power is always on, good, bad, indifferent, it doesn’t matter; I’m spewing opinions. And I don’t leave it at a simple “good” or “bad”. My critiques are long-winded and sometimes arbitrary diatribes, “This stupid serial killer serial has become so serial, I think I'm gonna kill someone,” I might yell, followed by, “this is the silliest premise I’ve ever heard… the people of the United States are way too safety obsessed to allow their teenagers to fight to the death… not without your bike helmet and elbow pads Katniss! And for God’s sakes take the Purell or you’ll get a nasty infection,”—and then—“Damn, a futuristic Count of Monte Cristo… why didn’t I think of that? I could make him gelatinous with the ability to transfigure--ate.”

All this, just to hear a kid giggle; the more I think about it, the more I think Monster’s Inc. got it right. Why didn’t I think of that?

Munk's opening line:

Yeah. I was worried—worried for the bare nekkid mole rats.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk.

This week's music: Randy Newman, If I Didn't have You...

Cadence

2011-10-01T08:42:00.000-07:00

I have recently lectured on details and place

So today I submit a treatise on pace

Your stories may ebb and your stories may flow

But how do you tell when to rush or go slow?

Cadence depends on your goals for a scene

Such as hatred or passion or feelings between

Shorten your phrasing for action and fights

But shake out Roget’s for fanciful flights, of love… of love… of wonderful, lovingful, chummingful love…

Go charging ahead with hard-rocking words

Like rockets and rackets and thundering herds

Then slow with the gentle of feathers and fluff

With kisses, caresses, and mushyful stuff

This poem may be poor, but you shouldn’t be sore

Based on the price that you paid at the door

Something for nothing is something said I

And it far exceeds herpes or a stye in your eye

What's your cadence?

Munk’s run-on opening line,

After changing his name to Jack, Jake married Jill, but Jill ended up liking Jake better so she divorced him, Jack that is.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Did everyone read Suze’s post regarding rejection over at Analog Breakfast this week? Loved it.

This week's music Nancy Sinatra--These Boots are Made for Walkin'

You keep lying when you ought'a be truthin'

Just Skidding

2011-09-24T23:51:00.000-07:00

Existence as an unpublished author can feel like living in a vacuum. Not a “vacuum” as in the appliance you push around the house sucking up dust bunnies, but a “vacuum” as in a vacuous state of null where queries giggle and flit before drifting away over the Seas of Submission. Hello? Is anyone out there? Anyone? Oh yeah, that’s right, sound doesn’t travel in a vacuum... and it’s cold, so very,very cold.

To fill the vacuum, I write. That is unless I work. The work I get paid for has been demanding sixty-hour weeks as of late. And though sixty-hour weeks aren’t what I consider grueling, they are decidedly not conducive to writing. Not when I have loveables at home with whom I want to spend time. For I stand convicted, I shall not compromise my family time for writing.

So… you ask, what’s a Munk to do? Take a day off, of course.

Tuff Truck Rhinoplasty

And what a day off it was. Saturday, when others crowded into massive football stadiums to watch overpaid “amateur” footballers battle it out on the gridiron, the Davises played soccer, toured a Frank Lloyd Wright Usonian home, and ended the day rooting for Tough Trucks and Trash Cars at a nearby redneck cultural center known as the Willamette Speedway. Drive it like ya stole it Earl!

NASCAR may hold the record for left-hand turns, but watching a good-old-boy behind the wheel of a smoke-belching, 1988 hatchback play dirt-track-fender-tag with his drinking buddies… now that’s my kind of distraction.

Tomorrow I write. What's your distraction?

Munk’s opening line.

The ghost in the machine was broken.

Munk’s opening line is yours to keep, use it.

This week’s music… Rapid Roy (The Stock Car Boy), Jim Croce

You ought’a hear ‘em screamin’ for that dirt track demon in a ’57 Chevrolet.

Life Sentence

2011-09-16T10:11:00.000-07:00

I was at the gym on Monday. I was going big and not going home, pumping iron, tossing weights, maxing out, gettin’ ripped, and building mass… well I was at least drinking my electrolytes and watching other folks do all that when the DJ came on the radio and called me out. He spoke to my soul.

A retro-DJ with no relation whatsoever
to the DJ in my story.

“Yesterday,” he said in his radio voice, “was 911 and I had a few hours for reflection as a good friend of mine died last week and I attended his funeral. I stood in the sun and considered all of the wonderful things said about the man. How he was gracious and giving, and how he’d be missed. I asked myself then,”—the DJ went on—“as I ask myself now… why do we wait? Why don’t we tell people how we feel about them today, rather than wait until they are gone? For you folks listening, go tell someone how much you appreciate them today. Tell them how you value their friendship. Tell them you love them. It is important that we say these things when we feel them, so don’t hesitate. Go do it now… or not, if you don’t want to.”

Or not, if I don’t want to?! …What the hell? No, no, no Mr. DJ man, no! You just dropped your conviction on the way to your point. You had me. I was poised and ready to go hug a big sweaty workout buddy when your conviction just up and lost its balls.

Imagine the hangover if JK Rowling’s grand plan of “love conquers all” cruised into the wrong bar and got all staggery-drunk on magic? Or if Dorothy and the Tin Man and the Lion and the Scarecrow learned that to find their respective home, heart, courage, and brains, they just need apply for a VISA gold card (because everyone knows that The Emerald City doesn’t take American Express)?

C’mon folks, all of you DJs and writers and anyone else with a story… get yourself convicted.

How is your conviction going?

Munk’s opening line…

Upon careful examination of the ape’s dead caterpillar, Mynce knew the real culprit was a small, left-handed child, three to four inches in height, and proficient with mint-waxed dental floss.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Today’s music is dedicated to TJ Riles and Jayne, both of whom I expect are future (or current) fans of the Avett Brothers, I am not choosing the most accessible cut from the bro’s Emotionalism CD, but I love this song because of its breadth, its banjo (yes Jayne, the banjo takes stage-center), and its obvious pop leanings (think Pet Sounds gone Americana). God only knows… Paranoia In B Flat Major.

RIP TM.

The Devil in the Details

2011-09-10T09:29:00.000-07:00

Last week I discussed my love for “place”. This week I will discuss my love for details, which in turn, adds to place and often teaches me new things. Trivial things sometimes, but interesting to me. I love learning. I love reason. In a nerdy way facts connect me to the universe. Jon Krakauer knows climbing, Herman Wouk is a military geek, and Laura Hillenbrand loves horses… and it shows. I can see, feel, and smell their worlds and characters.

Examples:

"I’d gained nearly seven hundred feet of altitude since stepping off the hanging glacier, all of it on crampon front points and the picks of my axes. The ribbon of frozen meltwater had ended three hundred feet up and was followed by a crumbly armor of frost feathers." Jon Krakauer, describing his ascent of The Devil’s Thumb in Alaska from, Into the Wild. (Meltwater and frost feathers? Are those his own word combinations? Bully, bully, Mr. Krakauer)

"Charles Howard had the feeling of a giant onrushing machine: You had to either climb on or leap out of the way. He would sweep into a room, working a cigarette in his fingers, and people would trail him like pilot fish. They couldn’t help themselves. Fifty-eight years old in 1935, Howard was a tall, glowing man in a big suit and a very big Buick." Laura Hillenbrand, Seabiscuit. (Note that among all of these descriptors, somehow Ms. Hillenbrand is able to "tell" us that "They couldn’t help themselves" and yet it comes off looking like a "show". Get it?)

"The focus of Willie’s mind widened beyond the plank now and took in the quarterdeck of the Caine. It was a place of noise, dirt, bad smells, and thuglike strangers. Half a dozen sailors were clanking at the rusty deck with metal scrapers. Other sailors were walking past, cursing under crates of cabbages on their backs. One man in a welding mask was burning a bulkhead with a crackling sour-smelling blue flame. All around were patches of new gray paint, patches of old gray paint, patches of green prime coat, and patches of rust. A tangle of snaky hoses, red black, green, yellow, brown, lay all over the deck. The deck was covered with orange peel, fragments of magazines and old rags. Most of the sailors were half naked and wore fantastic beards and haircuts. Oaths, blasphemies, and on recurring four-letter word filled the air like fog." … Herman Wouk, The Caine Mutiny. (If you haven't smelled The Caine Mutiny, it's time for you to do so. Don't be put off by the length of description here, the book is a character piece and in this scene Willie is entering his new world, much to his chagrin.)

Oh and as an aside... If your world is real, I want accurate details. The words "based on true events" more often than not ruin a story for me. If your "real events" require excessive dramatic embellishment, just say NO and write fiction instead. This holds for movies as well, yes I’m talking to you Richie Cunningham, and you too Michael Moore.

Do you like details?

Munk's opening line:

The boat was powered by the souls of frogs.

Discuss, Munk

Please fall into this week's music... Fishing Blues by Taj Mahal, it's like one last breath of summer.

And thanks go out to TJ Riles... for being cool. Go GB.

Love-a-Roll-a-Coast-a

2011-09-01T15:22:00.000-07:00

After receiving a few more positive commentaries on Syntropy I was struck again as to why I love books and movies. It’s the same reason I love life. To quote the good doctor, “Oh the places you’ll go!”

I love new worlds, brave or otherwise. Books or movies without a sense of place often leave me cold. I recently read The Terminal Man by Michael Crichton and was left chilled to the unmemorable bone.

The books and characters I love all have a sense of place: Scout has Maycomb, Billy has the Ozarks, Muad’—“my name is a killing word”—Dib has Arrakis, Augustus has his little grove of pecan trees down by the creek where he and Clara used to spend time together, Harry has Hogwarts, and Booker has the Muddy Joe river bottoms. For me to find a book truly engaging, I have to fall into the pages and want to stay. When I was in the Ozark’s with Billy Colman I didn’t simply fall in love with two dogs, I fell in love with barefoot summers and patched overalls.

Further, I believe that building a clear sense of place serves more purpose than simply creating a world for the reader to enter. I believe it promotes story telling. In the interest of time I will share just one example. Assuming you have read and own the Harry Potter series, grab your copy of The Order of the Phoenix and turn to page 609. Near the bottom of the page Harry is pulled into Dumbledore’s office by the utterly detestable Madam Professor Dolores Jane Umbridge and an ad hoc trial breaks out, complete with a jury of talking portraits. I often think of this scene because I remember being amazed by the density and deftness of the ensuing action. For the next thirteen spellbinding pages Ms. Rowling treats us to a view into a pseudo-courtroom populated by no less than ten unique voices and at least sixteen total character references, not to mention the numerous spells, jinxes, charms, and Phoenixes flying about. And then there is Harry himself, who all the while is sharing with us his thoughts and suspicions while simultaneously having a non-verbal conversation with Dumbledore on the side. My point… the swiftness and lucidity of this scene would not have been possible had JKR not first built a world where this density of narrative was possible.

To sum: I appreciate it when an author takes the time to build an interesting world for two reasons: one, because I like going to new places; and two, because in the right hands a well built world can act like the rails of a roller coaster.

What keeps you on the edge of your seat?

Munk’s opening line:

The Palace of Fraelok was cracked in all the right places.

Munk’s opening line is yours to keep, use it.

This week's on-theme music: Ohio Players, Love Roller Coaster... say what?

Cycles of Learning

2011-08-25T19:40:00.000-07:00

Every weekday morning I wake-up, shave, kiss and tickle my wife and kids, and ride my bike to work.

I work at a tech firm. You know the type, the huge multi-national conglomerate whose major stockholders and board of directors have become so focused on the distance between the first and last digits of their net-worth that they have forgotten the importance of the people and the technologies that allowed them the digits in the first place. The firm, whose board of directors spends their twenty working days a year nattering away in a price-per-share soap-opera determining the fate of thousands of people’s careers, while hiding behind terms like 'complimentary investments' and 'uncomplimentary divestitures'.... oops, sorry... I promised myself I wouldn’t go there, so I’m stopping this train. If you crave more anti-establishment rant, please head over to Tim Riley’s place and view Jon Stewart’s hilarious yet poignant take on the subject.

So, anyway, I work at a tech firm. I have technical chops. And, like the typical engineer, I am a nerd, a geek, a freak, and a really good dancer. One of the buzz-phrases we often use around the office is “Cycles of Learning” or “COLs”. COLs are the packets of time required to solve a problem. Most often a problem at work involves turning some idiot savant’s crazy idea into a useful device and the ensuing discussion focuses on shortening or reducing the number of COLs required to make the idea a reality. The number and length of COLs required for a problem depend, quite naturally, on the complexity of the problem and the number of resources assigned. Rather than bore you with the nuances of how the number of inventions required to solve a problem can be used to strike a healthy resource allocation, I’ll again stop the train and just say this: Writing a novel is a really, really hard problem and therefore (in my case) requires multiple, time consuming learning cycles.

So far, I believe every learning cycle (or Syntropy re-write) has been absolutely necessary, but I am nearing a dilemma—when do I stop? You see, science is easy, or at least the end point is. You either meet your constraints or you don’t. You rarely hear an electrical engineer asking her cube mate if he wouldn’t mind re-watching a light toggle on and off on a new circuit she designed. “Did you like it that time? How did it make you feel? What if I switched it on and off really fast? How about slow? Does it turn you on? Do you care about the light? Does it make you want to keep watching? What if I just hinted at turning it on?” No. Under normal circumstances in the tech world, on-is-on, off-is-off and that-is-that.

"It may be perpetual motion, but it will take forever to test it."

A confounding piece of the puzzle for me is that my re-writes come slowly. During my six-month re-write sojourns I know that I continue to grow as a writer and therefore once finished, I am compelled to start over.

And there you have it; my cycle of learning has become a perpetual motion machine.

What does your done-state look like?

Munk's opening line,
"Jim, your increasing tendencies toward centripetal acceleration have forced us to let you go."
Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk
(A punchline without a toon is a sorrowful thing. Can someone please draw me a picture for this one?)

And finally, music this week: (after last week's comments I will spare you more Donner Party and stay on theme with the Penguin Cafe Orchestra and Perpetuum Mobile. Please listen, it just might make your day, and the next, and the next, and the next,...

Nothing from Something

2011-08-18T18:03:00.000-07:00

I will never apologize for short posts, but I will beg your forgiveness for being less than creative. Creative takes time, creative takes energy, both of which are running at a premium in my life.

And, so this week, I’ll beg your forgiveness and just be me… not a young mother-to-be on the Death Star, not a love poet, not nothing.

Firsts: I received the greatest compliment this week from a fellow blogger. She said I was “different”. Yes! I mean, YES! Does it get any better than that? I am not being sarcastic here (though, as you know, I am prone). KC Wolff runs a very different blog of her own, always thoughtful, always welcoming, hmmm… loving, in a way. It’s hard to describe, but it feels good when I visit.

Seconds: Did everyone get a chance to read dbs’s Think Stew blog entry regarding introversion? Hit the nail on the head he did. One hammer strike and he put steel to wood.

Thirds: About me and Syntropy. After attending a writers conference a week ago, I am trying to shore up the MS for another (very precisely targeted) round of submissions.

Fourths: My family is great (different even). I can’t say how much I love them, my words aren’t big enough.

Munk’s opening line:
Obviously, his definition of "carefree love" was different than mine.
Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Our music this week comes from the closet of the strange. The band is The Donner Party, the song is When I was a Baby. Please tell me what you think... for I defy anyone to listen to the Donner Party without forming an opinion.

Limits. Find Yours.

2011-08-11T16:30:00.000-07:00

The scariest movie I ever saw.

The scariest movie I ever saw, was a made for television film chronicling the real-life homicide investigation of Sam Sheppard, a neurosurgeon on trial for the murder of his pregnant wife. He claimed a bushy-haired intruder had entered their home and done the killing. It was a brutal act. A blunt instrument was employed to violently pulverize the woman’s skull and spatter her brains on every wall of her bedroom.

From my memory, it wasn’t an exceptionally well done film, though I could hardly be the judge. I was eleven. I’d snuck out of bed and was hunched on the stairs, peering through the stair rails at the shimmering cathode ray tube in the far corner of our sunken family room. The backs of my parent’s unknowing heads were silhouetted against the television’s flickering light. The carpet was shag. The rails wrought iron.

I worried for the doctor, I worried for the intruder, I worried that my parents would turn and catch me watching. But what worried me the most had nothing to do with declared innocence or guilt.

What worried me the most was that just like me, someone had fallen prey to an urge to do wrong, and wrong they had done.

Which movie scared you the most?

Munk's Opening line...

"Pam was hardly a name suitable for a murderer, so I changed it."

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

This week's music... Johnny Cash, The Man Comes Around.

Oh... and anyone who has yet to meet Rebecca Kiel, should do so now. Her blog is well spoken, thoughtful and inspiring... thanks for the award Rebecca.

Substitute Blog

2011-08-07T21:55:00.000-07:00

It’s no secret. I hated my attempts at blogging this week. In all, I wrote three. I posted each one in succession, waited a few hours and then reread them. I found that I hated every single one. Either they were too serious and painted me as a hypocrite (which I am, but would like to hide the fact from general view... get it?) or they were sophmoric and terribly ill-written (stupid, stupid, stupid). So I killed them. Every one.

Except for this one. This post shall remain boldly posted where no other post has remained before.

The only part of my many failed blog attempts worth saving was my nod toward Bryce Daniels, the virtuous, writer/blogger, Nova driving, cool guy which most of you probably know already because of his grand breadth of readership, but if not, you should go check him out… he’s got some great stuff.

Does anyone else struggle with blog perfection issues?

Munk’s opening line:

The hills have eyes and so do the potatoes.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Music this week:

The Avett Brother’s The Ballad of Love and Hate… definitely worth a go ‘round.

Sweet Munk Nothings

2011-07-31T07:45:00.000-07:00

On the heels of last week’s post about nothing, I’ve stepped it up and found something to write about. And it really is something... It makes the world go around, it lifts you up and it knocks you down. It can have you floating on air, or crushed by despair. You can feel it in your fingers; you can feel it in your toes. Yep… it’s LOVE.

Love is my something this week.

I did a quick search and found numerous sites about love, each with its own categorical definitions. One was content with just two categories: passion and compassion, another described three: Eros, Philos, and Agape, some defined as many as four or five or even six. But regardless of the number, all were firm with the limits of their categories. “That’s it, love defined,” they seem to say.

I see love and all of its variants as infinitely adaptable and therefore indefinable. Trying to define love is like trying to define literary genre, each variant squirms and strains against the trappings of classification.

Don’t believe me? Grab a few opinionated friends and try to classify this list without a debate.

In no particular order…

There’s puppy love and Courtney Love, unbidden and forbidden,

There’s sensual, consensual, unbridled, and once bitten,

There is fading love so bittersweet it tastes of melancholy,

And the crazy, stupid, crushing love that only leads to folly,

The obsessive and possessive loves, of tainted jealousy,

And the unrequited stinging love of ‘never meant to be’,

There’s timeless, endless, boundless love, and trysts that lead to scandal,

Cool, gentle, tender love, and love too hot to handle,

Ethereal, untellable, agape love divine,

The carefree-careless, summer love that ends before its time,

There’s gay love, straight love, and a mother’s love unguarded,

There’s funny love, a comic’s love, and that wasn’t me who farted,

Rivaling-reveling-sibling love ‘tween sister and a brother,

And the super freaky sort of love you don’t take home to mother,

But of passion or compassion or of tender loving care,

The best of love that I have found is that which I have shared.

XOXO,

Munk

Munk’s opening line.

On vacation by a lake, Munk had a second glass of wine and wrote a poem. No one had the good sense to stop him or help him with punctuation.

Munk’s opening line is yours to keep, use it.

This week’s music… Love is All Around, The Troggs--1967

A very cool band with a very cool and early promo video.

I will have limited connectivity this week... my replies will be even more sporadic than usual.

Damn that Munk

2011-07-23T14:51:00.000-07:00

This is a blog post about nothing. If you find nothing of interest in the following text, it’s because my goal this week is to provide you with a string of easily digestible words and phrases that may at first appear compelling, but in retrospect present no substantive value whatsoever. No value in the least.

To repeat, and stay with me here, there is nothing, not the slightest tidbit of information in these words that should be construed as interesting. Perhaps you continue to read because you are drawn by an inexplicable desire to find out if I am kidding, hoping that a punch line awaits. I can assure you it does not. There is nothing more to this blog than the opening sentence predicts—nothing. I am writing words, with the simple goal of writing words, nothing more, nothing less.

Some of you still reading must be asking yourselves, why? Why, after reading over-and-over again that nothing of value is to come, must I keep following along? Perhaps you are searching between the lines for hidden metaphors or some higher purpose, for some scrap of sanity among the nonsense.

And I’m sure that by now there are several folks out there who after throwing their hands up in disgust have dropped out. “Damn that Munk,” I’ll bet they cursed, before stabbing their cursor on their browser’s BACK button, “he’s always playing around, doesn’t take nothin’ serious.”

Well, see-you-later… you impatient lot… bon voyage, and hit-the-road, because I was kidding. There IS something more to this week’s blog, something amazing, something so absolutely awe-inspiring, that those of you who have stuck around will be talking about it for weeks… or not.

Munk’s opening line…

My name is Camden and I would like to be part of you.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

This week's music:
Mazzy Star -- Fade Into You.

Just Write, Damn-it.

2011-07-15T17:25:00.000-07:00

Do you believe in your story?

I do mine.

It’s why I spend my weekends hammering at my narrative and tightening my prose. I want my readers to careen pell-mell across the text, to feel as if they are falling through the pages and into my world.

It’s difficult to do and one hell of a lofty dream. I’m not sure I can do it.

But I believe in my story.
I have to try.

Do you believe in yours? If not, find one you do believe in and throw your soul into it. Write your words with conviction and send them out there. If they fall flat, pick them up, dust them off, figure out what went wrong, and try it again.

Steady as she goes.

Munk’s opener…

In my entire life I have had but two novel thoughts.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk (Why does this opener sound so familiar?)

I love this song from beginning to end. Love it with me. Mr. Jack White in his first gig as a Raconteur.

Your friends have shown a kink in the single life,

You’ve had too much to think; now you’ll need a wife.

Scary Science

2011-07-09T14:09:00.000-07:00

This week's blog contains one big pointer, an ice breaker, and an opening line.

Pointer--> I did a guest spot over at Tim Riley's digs... please mosey on over for a list of my favorite documentaries and add some of your own. The list is actually one of the more useful things I may have ever posted on a blog.

Ice Breaker-->
What is madness if not freedom? Gone are the days when people ask me questions expecting a logical response. Oh, but it doesn't keep them from asking. With their digital recorders sucking at my words and their digital fingers stabbing away at their digital keyboards... they ask and ask and ask, mouths flapping, tongues wagging. They ask.... Ronnie, what does the fire say when it speaks? Who's voice does it use? Are you alone when it talks? Ronnie, is it talking now?

This week's opening line:
There is good reason to fear science.
Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

And, this week's music... Did someone say Ska?

Punching Mary Sue

2011-07-02T07:51:00.000-07:00

Today’s blog contains two full disclosures and six Mary Sues at no extra cost!

If you are not familiar with Mary Sues see Lydia Kang’s blog on the subject. From the comments at Lydia’s, I get the feeling that a Mary Sue character (one that has characteristics which you, for any number of reasons, find unique or attractive) is generally seen as a bad thing, but after I followed the link on Lydia’s blog, and took the Mary Sue test, I found that not only I "Mary Sue", but so do my favorite authors.

Do you love your characters? Do you get excited about creating a life? If you could, would you want to be one of them? I do, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. In my book, I Mary Sue all over myself, though you might be hard pressed to tell with which character I share the most in common.

Full disclosure 1: I’m not even sure I know which of my characters are most like me. All I do know is that I love hanging out with each-and-every-one of the ne'er-do-wells. I love messing with them as much as I love reading and just a little less than hanging out with my family. I hear some people, even writers, say that they HATE writing, or at least that they procrastinate to keep from writing (blogs come up a lot in these discussions). Not me. I might procrastinate a little, but it is not a significant time drain. Perhaps, it is that I get my fill of “real” people at work; engineers can be very exacting, it seems that they always have to be right… which is not really me either, I don’t have to be right all the time… I just happen to be so.

I sometimes wonder what would happen if writing was my job… would I learn to hate it, and would I then translate that hate to my characters? Without my engineering career as a surrogate punching bag, would I pound the humility out of my Mary Sues?

Full disclosure 2: that last sentence gave me an evil grin.

A quote for today: “Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to a better understanding of ourselves.” ~Carl Jung (Thanks to Matthew MacNish for posting this quote on his blog)

Munk’s opening line:

The distance between pleasure and pain is measured in the flesh of the participants.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Music this week is from the vault of obscurity. Unless you spent time in Chicago in the seventies, odds are you've never heard this gem. If I am wrong, please prove me so. Alliotta-Haynes-Jeremiah, with Lake Shore Drive

How Far Over The Top Do You Camp?

2011-06-25T08:18:00.000-07:00

Question: How far over the top can one movie go?

Answer: Rent “Bubba Ho Tep” and find out.

Synopsis:

Elvis is alive. He’s living out his last days in an East Texas care home. He is sick and the movie is too, way sick. Hide from the movie if you get queasy when people use the terms pustule and genitalia in the same sentence (like I just did, but worse).

The thing is, many years ago, Elvis (played by Bruce Campbell) switched places with an Elvis impersonator and missed his chance to switch back because he accidentally barbecued the contract. The real Elvis now shares a room with John F. Kennedy (played by Ossie Davis… yes that Ossie Davis) and together they must defend their care home from an Egyptian mummy, who is having a dandy-old time sucking the resident’s souls from their, well, from you know… back there.

All that, and yet I still recommend the movie, just leave the logical part of your brain on the shelf when you screen it.

I know, I know, if you are anything like me you are probably asking yourself, “Why didn’t I think of that? How could I have let that little gem of a plot slip through my hands?” Well, you did. Get over it. The question is, what are you gonna do now? I’m personally working up something with Jerry Lee Lewis and a Kraken, the working title: “Great Balls of the Leviathan”.

Munk’s opening line:

Eye’s like dinner plates, tentacles like sewer lines… goodness, gracious, the great balls of the leviathan.

Munk’s opening line is yours to keep, use it. Note: this week’s opener is so filled with wonk, that if someone actually uses it, they must share.

On a more deferential note, Mr. Peter Falk died this week. During his acting career he helped tell many a beautiful story. Remember him reading “The Princess Bride” in “The Princess Bride” to a very young Fred Savage? In another of my favorite films, “Wings of Desire” by Wim Wenders he portrayed an aging film star. The film contained one of my all-time favorite quotes: "But no one has so far succeeded in singing an epic of peace. What is wrong with peace, that its inspiration doesn't endure and that it is almost untellable?”

Okay, enough serious, here he is Jerry Lee, the prince of over the top with Whole Lotta Shakin' Going On, It’s worth watching if only for his hair acrobatics at around 0:36 seconds… wow.

Catharsis Consommé

2011-06-17T14:57:00.000-07:00

Blog de jour: two subjects, one tag, one aphorism, and no rants.

Sujet une: today’s entry began simply enough, being that it is summer and the kids are out of school, I was considering how difficult it is to find time for all of the things I would like to do. I was doing well, tapping away at my keyboard, creating gleeful witticisms (thanks DUO), when something went suddenly and terribly wrong. Storm clouds of vitriol rolled across my Doppler radar feed. Before I knew it, I was ranting. My simple blog entry had become an manifesto touching on everything from the Butterfly Effect to the global consequences of our daily moral judgments. On I went, bashing through barriers of blogosphere decency, smashing the good intentions of well-intentioned intenders. I really made an illogical mess of things before I was through and as I sift through the rubble, trying to piece together what went wrong, I realize that recovery is still a ways off. Has this ever happened to you? Has an unknown need for catharsis ever consumed your blog?

Sujet deux: I enjoy building. I find all aspects of the work relaxing: the brainstorming, the drawing, and the physical-ing. I rarely find time to build anymore. I am writing. My dream life would have me writing for a living, building for fun, and hugging my family. The skies would be sunny except when it rained and people would stop killing each other, God damn it… You see, here is where things went wrong. This was the actual start to my original blog and as you can tell things devolved at a drastic pace. I don’t think train wrecks happen this fast, but then I can’t tell for sure because those that I’ve seen have all been in slow motion. Now, rather than go into all of the conditions that led my train-of-thought into the canyon-of-angst, let me just finish what I started…My wife and I built a house (family and friends pitched in), since, I have added patios and decks and walkways and finished the basement and landscaped the yard and built a woodshed and… and, I miss it. I don’t just miss seeing the results, I miss doing the work: particularly during t-shirt weather. It’s what I gave up to write. What do you give up to write?

Le Tag: Thanks again to D U Okonkwo, the gracious Londoner, for tagging me… DUO’s blog is overflowing with the joy of writing and can be found here: http://www.duosays.com/

L’aphorisme: following a quick sift through the rant, this is the only thing of value that I found… Acceptance is as powerful as righteous tyranny… and often less harmful.

Munk’s Opening Line:

The brown dwarf swung so nearly, I felt my mood change.

Munk’s opening line is yours to keep, use it.

This week’s music (I love the opening to this song…): One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer by George Thorogood and the Destroyers

Eve’body funny… now you funny too.

Crazy Change

2011-06-12T14:17:00.000-07:00

Why I am, as a writer.

I’ve always counted my life experiences among my greatest assets.

I am not an Army, Navy nor any other type of institutionally defined brat, but I have moved, and moved often. Why my brattiness you ask?... purely my own design.

Before my fourteenth birthday my family and I had inhabited at least eight homes scattered over four states, Alabama, California, Oregon, Kansas, and then California, and Oregon again; couple that with required school moves and I was the definition of an adolescent nomad. After that, things stabilized, if only a bit. Four years in Newberg, Oregon led to two colleges, five stays in Alaska, two in Colorado and one in California before finally settling in Oregon’s Willamette Valley.

Perhaps my numerous transitions help me to write, I know they push me to write. I am a storyteller and am rarely without a new idea, though as I get older, I fear my muse will-wane (rhymes with... Lil-Wayne). My desire now is to write stories in a manner worth sharing. Any artist worth their sanity understands that taste plays a huge role in books chosen, so I realize my stories (anyone’s stories) can’t appeal to everyone. But I am desperate to develop the skills of plot hooks, character voice and scene pacing so that the task of writing, and thus the reading, becomes more fluid and more accessible.

I have thus logged three years on my first-novel-training-ground, and based on my past that’s a pretty long stay, but worth every second.

I just realized something. Perhaps writing is a way for me to recapture the excitement of moving, embracing the unknown as it were. I love my lush, Douglas Fir shaded valley, I love that my family is growing and learning and finds security in the familiar surroundings of a small town. The smell of the fresh cut grass the cool evening breezes... but sometimes, I just need to get away.

Someone once said... "The difference between an artist and a person that's crazy, is that the artist has a two way ticket and the crazy person only has a one-way."

How does your past impact your writing?

This week's opening line was submitted by (okay, perhaps "extracted" from) the prophetable bard... L.G. Smith.
"Get your damn finger off of the mouse, Munk."
Munk's (erm... LG's) "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk... note: no mice were injured during the writing of this blog.

This week's music: for you Cake lovers out there, this is a must see streetwise review video of Short Skirt/Long Jacket... love it. "She's trading her MG for a white Chrysler LeBaron." ...if she was a little more like the broad in this song...

Nova Jackson: Ejects!

2011-06-04T13:45:00.000-07:00

For many of you, Jodi Chamberlain’s name is already familiar as the creator of the Syntropy trailer (the YouTube video off to the right there… the one showing Booker and Annabelle running in the cornfield… awesome). Well, Miss Jodi is as prolific as she is talented, in addition to her videos and fine art (click the link and then go to "paintings"... you might just fall in love), she has completed the first episode of a highly entertaining (okay, crazy-ass-fun) graphic novel series designed specifically for digital media, Nova Jackson: Ejects!

The trailer…

If you are interested in downloading a $2 copy… the link to the Barnes and Noble page is here.

But wait there’s more! The story of Jodi's career change, from office fodder to whatever she considers herself now, is worth a read as well, and is listed here at the Huffington Post (fun huh?). Just what drives this 5’2” sailor to do so much of what she does? Where I fret and sweat whether my work is good enough to share, she just knows hers is.

Munk’s opening line(s)…

Wallace set about doing the only thing he could think to do, and that was to lick the chocolate from Stacy's neck. There was a chance she was allergic, after all.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

This week's music "Lights Out" by DobleFlo (video by... you guessed it.)

Wrestling Goats: The Opening line

2011-05-29T10:08:00.000-07:00

What makes a good opening line? I have been submitting opening lines to the blogosphere for some time now (the lines began as sort of an accident—but have now taken on a life of their own). Note that the previous parenthetical statement is, by my estimation, a pretty good opening line, especially if you take it out of context. Which leads me to my thesis: One technique for creating an effective opening line is to limit its CONTEXT.

Leaving out just a dash of context opens a gaping hole of curiosity, which the reader then feels compelled to fill... by reading more. It is a first level “hook”.

Let’s take a look at perhaps the most recognizable opener...

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times….” This, of course, is from Dickens' “A Tale of Two Cities”. First off, the line is a contradiction, which by itself creates great interest, but what makes it even better is that Dickens doesn’t tell you how or why the times are best or worst, nor for whom the times are best and worst.
What if Dickens had said, “Paris in the 1840s, a time of revolution, the aristocracy wielded power, the poor were downtrodden…”? Same story, different telling… oops, your context is showing.

Note that leaving out context creates an indistinct feeling of curiosity rather than a blatant unknown, let’s try again, “Paris in the 1840s, a time of revolution, the aristocracy wielded power, the poor were downtrodden, and some may die.” Yep, people may die, that pretty much tells you that as part of the book, people will die and that the only remaining mystery is—who will be tits-up at the end?... blatant, dull unknown.
Now, just for fun, we might be able turn the whole thing around (without the need for white-out) by using all of the context we’ve just shoe-horned into my dull opener and turning it on its ear: “Paris in the 1840s, a time of revolution, the aristocracy wielded power, the poor were downtrodden, and some may die—or at least seem to.” But that is a different story all together, one I like to call: “The Tail of Two Zombies.”

Here are some more opening lines which I admire… note that though many are provocative for more reasons than simply leaving out context (such as the high stakes admitted in “Berg”), lack of context is a common theme…

"It is a sin to write this." Anthem—Ayn Rand

"Mother died today. Or, maybe, yesterday, I can’t be sure." The Stranger—Albert Camus

"All this happened, more or less. The war parts, anyway, are pretty much true.” Slaughterhouse 5—Vonnegut

“It was love at first sight.” Catch-22—Joseph Heller

"We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold." Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas—Hunter S. Thompson

“It was the day my grandmother exploded.” Crow Road—Iain Banks

“A man called Berg, who changed his name to Greb, came to a seaside town intending to kill his father.” Berg—Ann Quin

“I was born during an electrical storm. They told me when Matilda saw me for the first time the lights flickered, and in that moment of blackness, my sister leaned over and whispered, “I missed you.” Nathan Bransford's Blog— Anonymous

Do you have a favorite opening line, and why?

Note... for more on opening lines, check out LG Smith's latest submission at Bards and Prophets.

This week's opening line...

When Booker stepped from the barn his Aunt Myna was wrestling her goat.

Munk's "Opening Line" is NOT yours to keep this week... Munk

Music... I've got a real treat for you this week. The Mills Brothers-How'm I Doin' Hey, Hey... No instruments, no problem.

Emperius Rapturius

2011-05-21T08:46:00.000-07:00

Mumsy,

It seems millennia since I’ve written, but I’ve just been handed the greatest news. I am the new Head Chef at the Empire Flight Grill! That’s right; all the tuition and late nights at Sentient Services is finally paying off. Your daughter is on her way.

Head Chef is a Level 62 position in the fleet, which as you know means full tenure… FULL pension! Paulos is a little jealous he wasn’t chosen first, but he is happy for me (happy for us!), gosh, gosh, gosh, I love him. The news couldn’t have come at a better time, with the baby on its way and all. J

Oh, and can you believe the DS is finally working? It took them long enough. They tested it on some planet… Almaden, or Alderaan, maybe? I can’t remember… non-believers, anyway. The test put the lights out for almost five multi-counts, I nearly missed who got voted off Empire Idol and was beginning to think Paulos and I had chosen the wrong space station. But the schools here in The Sixteenth Suburb of Contentment remain at the top of the galaxy rankings. I just knew things would work out. They say we’re headed toward the Yavin system; I know I should have paid more attention in astography, but I can’t remember, is that anywhere near you? If so, maybe you could visit!

Love, Karaso XXOOXX

“The force doth twist on solar winds and bestows upon you freedom”- Lucos Plezant, Sith Lord Scholar. (Don’t you just LOVE this quote!)

6104 Starfox Way #3435

SoC 16

The Death Star

Karaso999@empiremail.socxvi

Munk' opening line...

Truth is most often forged by the percentage of people who believe it so.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Today's Music... Meco--Star Wars Theme/Cantina Band (get-the-funk-out-of-here)

Muzik, Muzik, Muzik

2011-05-15T14:34:00.000-07:00

My musical tastes run as wide as the Mississippi in spring: classical, pop, bluegrass, heavy metal, jazz, rock, you name it, but I can't listen to music while I write. I drift into the sound, I cascade through the melodies, and lose focus on my words. I know I've written blogs on this subject before, but lately I've run across some great new music and joined a site called Jango, where big fun is to be had for the musically entwined.

Today's question: When you sing in the car, do you care that other drivers are watching?

Munk's Opening line (meant for a middle grade boy book)...

No matter how you spin it, you can't win a fight with a girl.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

For today's music I present the jangly-spangle of Surf Nada, Their version of Bill Fox's Electrocution offers a wall of sound that would make this guy proud...

Not that making this guy proud should be on the top of your to-do list, but extra points to the first person who can name him. I'll post Munk kisses on the blog of the first correct contestant.

And with no further ado... the buzz of Surf Nada, enjoy.

Thanks Tim.

Obama-Osama-Omama

2011-05-07T18:44:00.000-07:00

This week as I watched the strip mall denizens cheer the death of Bin Laden, I sat, rubbed my eyes, and thought, “What the hell is there to cheer about? Elation is not an emotion I come by easily, especially in the shadow of death.

I did not restrain myself from cheering through intellectual reason. Logic was not required. I was moved instead by emotion. Upon hearing the news of Bin Laden’s death, I slipped into introspection, not glee. Perhaps it is because I have no reason to be fearful of Al-Qaeda; I live in a largely terrorist-target-free town. Or perhaps I am just tired; exhausted of the notion that killing is the answer.

Don’t get me wrong, I can’t argue the decision to end Bin Laden. I believe the US rightfully acted in self defense. But, ending a life is a cinch when compared to building a future, especially a future worth cheering for.
How did you weather the news this week?

Munk’s opening line,

His curveball dives down and away and his slider swims inside out—but his knuckler is the demon’s circus.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

No music this week, but in honor of Mother's Day (love you Mom, did you get my card?) and to prove that I still have a sense of humor after that downer post... Mother's Day by Barats and Bereta:

Guilt and Envy: a Love Story

2011-05-01T10:34:00.000-07:00

I know someone who recently retired from the Navy at the rank of Captain. At his departure he was adorned with all the spoils: the money, the GI Bill, a sweet health care package, a next generation jet pack, all the usual stuff. As writers, or creatives in general, we might expect him to take his plunder and join a theatre troupe or write that novel. No. He is going to nursing school. It takes a special kind of someone to hurt me like this. I envy him so hard his free time sometimes my eyes fountain tears of angst (not really, but since I saw the image so clearly in my creatively addled brain, I just had to share.)

This past weekend I was unable to find time to write and my envy wrestling reached WWF smack-down proportions. I had nearly succumbed to a jealous barrage of pile drivers when something amazing happened. The mutinous captain sent me an e-mail quoting the first sentence of his nursing school’s program philosophy:
“Human beings are biopsychosocialspiritual individuals with intrinsic value and worth.” (Which, by the way, is one hell of an opening line).

It was as if Rowdy Roddy Piper had put me in a sleeper hold. I stymied. My head felt bloated. What!? And here I thought nursing wasn’t a creative outlet. Just look at the beauty in that phrase. Hell, that conglomo-word alone deserves its own book.

The truth: I'm proud of the guy for his dedication to the service of others and it makes me feel a little guilty. Writing for me is a self-centered act: I hide, I ignore, I write. But at least now, when I feel bad about selfishly focusing my energies on writing, I realize that I am only human, just a biopsychosocialspiritual individual with intrinsic value and worth. I can only do so much.

Is your writing a guilty pleasure?

Munk's opening line:
Charis knew every name and every number inked into Abraham's skin. She had to, in case one changed.
Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

This week's music: Jangle, jangle, jangle, jangle... From Yo La Tengo's brilliant Fakebook L.P.: You Tore Me Down

Munk Rules! -An Off Cycle Blog Post-

2011-04-26T16:58:00.000-07:00

Cheryl Klein of the Brooklyn Arden inspired me this morning. She, being quite principled herself, began a new section on her blog called "Other People's Principles." Her goal is to compile a list of lists. Apologies for the redundancies, but a principle list of listed principles is inherently redundant, unless of course you are Dr. Suess, at which point it becomes a Star Infested Pundonkey. Anyway, Ms. Klein has requested that any of her readers who feel up to it, write a list of principles on writing. So did I and so should you. Perhaps all of you "A to Z" bloggers can adopt a German accent and create "Zee" list for your Saturday post. Warning, seeing as I am unpublished, and have no real prospects, be wary of putting any of my principles into practice.

Munk’s List on Writing…

Regarding expectations: Write to reach someone, but not everyone.

Regarding conventions: Avoid the entrapments of genre, write a story.

Regarding details: Sweat the little stuff and the big stuff: words, sentences, punctuation, characters, plot, theme… all of it.

Regarding craft: Face your weaknesses. Never stop growing, but pace yourself. Opt for daily reflections over weeklong immersions, growth is time consuming and effortful.

Regarding reviews: Listen hardest to those whom you respect the most, but ignore the others at your peril (I wish I had an editor to instruct me on the proper use of ‘whom’).

Regarding age appropriateness: Write to your audience in theme only, avoid restricted vocabulary (except in character voice).

Regarding absolutism: Never follow a tip beginning with the word ‘never’ (yes, this means you Elmore). Break rules.

Regarding inspiration: Write with purpose or with joy, or both.

Regarding editors: Secure council that possesses passion and energy—and nothing to lose.

Regarding lists: Treat other people’s lists as guidelines, not laws. I hold firm that God is not walking among us, singularly disguised as a bestselling author, offering advice to writers.

I am a big fan of Ms. Klein, aside from being a Potterologist (I’ll let you scour her website to understand that reference) and an editor for Arthur A. Levine, a Scholastic imprint, she spends much of her time helping people understand the craft of writing. I find her writing on writing pragmatic, value rich, and entertaining. She connects many of my free radical Zots.

Check her website, if you like what you see, I recommend you buy her book, Second Sight. I carry two books in my backpack when I write: hers and “Strunk and White”.

Do you have a list?

Munk’s opening line,

I can’t be redundant; I’m the only one who knows how to fly the plane.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Road Tripper, Radio On!

2011-04-23T09:17:00.000-07:00

I recently realized that many of my favorite reads are “road” books. My love for road books probably stems from my love for travel. I enjoy motion.

Some of my favorites:

Travels with Charlie—John Steinbeck

On the Road—Jack Kerouac

The Hobbit—J. R. R. Tolkien

Lonesome Dove—Larry McMurtry

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance—Robert Pirsig (I can’t tell you how many years it has been since I read this book and yet I still debate with Phaedrus on road trips).

Books for experiential enhancement:

I often choose books to read on vacation based on where I am travelling. For example while trekking in Nepal I read Annapurna by Maurice Herzog… in a word: harrowing. While in the Cook Islands I read the Nordhoff and Hall trilogy: Mutiny on the Bounty, Men at Sea, and Pitcairn’s Island… in three words, egomania, ick, and megalomania. After being shrunk to microscopic size and injected into the arteries of a really important smart guy and submarining toward a deadly blood clot in his carotid artery, I read Fantastic Voyage… Okay, you caught me, I never read Fantastic Voyage. I would have, had I not been so busy fighting off white blood cells and helping Raquel Welch apply her mascara.

What are your favorite road books?

Munk's opening line (the kids helped me write this one)...

Technology stole my grandmother’s underpants.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

This week’s music:

Jonathon Richman and The Modern Lovers: Roadrunner

Happy Birthday Audrey.

Connecting the Zots

2011-04-16T10:54:00.000-07:00

Was sent an e-mail this week by a friend with whom I share the love of creation. She is also one of my few blogging friends that I actually know exists. I can testify that she has an analog version of herself to compliment her digital form. That is to say, we’ve met. We work together. Kat, the photographer (her digital self), can be found here: www.kateyeview.com. The analog version of Kat resides, for the moment, in Italy… gridare evviva! She’s finishing a two-year TDY with her family in Milan and finds time to share her passion for photography on the web. Love that.

In addition to being an inspired photo jockey, and cracker-jack engineer, Kat is a voracious reader (I was thrilled that she enjoyed an early version of Syntropy). As it happens, her current read is Madeleine L’Engle’s A Circle of Quiet.

Kat graciously sent me an e-mail as a follow up to my blog post of last week and I was floored, purely and magnificently—floored. Have you ever read something that so clearly speaks to your opinion it’s as if someone has climbed inside your head, extracted the appropriate bits, and arranged them better than you could ever hope to? Jon Krakauer and John Irving have connected the dots in my mind on occasion… and Vonnegut has as well (which, to be honest, scares me a little).

In regards to choosing the right word, the dear departed Ms. L’Engle says thus…

p.148:

“I have a profound conviction that it is most dangerous to tamper with the word. I've been asked why it's wrong to provide the author of a pleasure book, a non-textbook, with a controlled-vocabulary list. First of all, to give an author a list of words and tell him to write a book for children using no word that is not on the list strikes me as blasphemy. What would have happened to Beatrix Potter if she had written in the time of controlled vocabulary? Lettuce has a soporific effect on Peter Rabbit. "Come come, Beatrix, that word is beyond a child's vocabulary." "But it's the right word, it's the only possible word." "Nonsense. You can't use soporific because it's outside the child's reading capacity. You can say that lettuce made Peter feel sleepy."

I shudder.

To give a writer a controlled-vocabulary list is manipulating both writer and reader. It keeps the child within his present capacity, on the bland assumption that growth is even and orderly and rational, instead of something that happens in great unexpected leaps and bounds. It ties the author down and takes away his creative freedom, and completely ignores the fact that the good writer will always limit himself. The simplest word is almost always the right word. I am convinced that Beatrix Potter used "soporific" because it was, it really and truly was, the only right word for lettuce at that moment.”

I swooned as she shredded the notion of “even and orderly” growth. I now have the book at my bedside. Ms. L’Engle surrounds the passage with further eloquence, but I believe the words above, the words Kat chose to share with me, provide a good summary.

Two questions:

1) Do you have writers that connect dots in your head?

2) Any comments regarding Ms. L’Engle’s philosophy on word choice?

Munk’s Opening line…

Never underestimate the reasoning ability of a three-year-old human.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Music this week... probably not for everyone... but definitely for me. The Pixies, Subbacultcha (you know, when you grope for Luna)

Crazy in the Sunlight

2011-04-09T11:37:00.000-07:00

I attended a writer’s conference last summer and while there I had the first few pages of my manuscript reviewed by some experts in the field. A recent post by Tim Riley got me thinking (again) about one of the comments I received. To start, I must admit that I am a glutton for comments on my work. That is to say, from my view, the more comments the merrier. Each new perspective opens my eyes to an individual reader’s experience and I find each comment as fascinating on a personal level as I do indispensable in my quest to become a better writer.

So as I was saying, I received a comment and I would like you all to weigh in with your thoughts. To be fair, remember that you are not my target audience. The book is written toward 11 to 15 year olds, so while answering you must pretend you are a 15-year-old boy (the “boy” part will make sense in a minute, just hold that thought).

The passage in question:

First to the porch, Booker staked his claim on the swing. A late evening stillness had descended on the farm and the luxuriant fragrance of black magnolias hung so heavily in the warm air it was as though the lemon-sweet aroma was soaking into his skin.

The reviewer’s comment: "Remember your audience, what 15-year-old boy would care about the smell of magnolias?"

Warning, you are about to read a fluff sentence... I am writing this sentence, and extending it with extra words only in order to give you a few seconds to consider your answer to the reviewer's question before I tell you mine... Which is, ME! I would care, I still do. I relish the smell of fresh cut grass and fish markets, as a boy I remember the serious and sweet aroma drifting from the of the door of the tobacco shop next to my aunt's beauty supply store. Does this make me odd? Are most 15-year-old boys unaware of, or insensitive to, smells?

So, now… time to weigh in… As a 15-year-old boy, living in the south, would you have noticed the smell of magnolias each spring? And if so, would you have admitted it to yourself? Be blunt, hammer the truth home, I want to understand this from different perspectives.

Munk's Opening Line:

Art outlives the sales pitch.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

today's music... Sugar Magnolia... by the Happy Cadavers

When Good Words Go Bad: A Case Study

2011-04-03T09:15:00.000-07:00

Imagine you have just finished a comedy set at the Stork Club in 1946 and Sherman Billingsley greets you as you leave the stage. He’s really excited. He loved your set, and he says one of the following…

1) “You look smashing and your gags are to die for.”

2) “You killed out there tonight, you really slayed me.”

3) “You are so bad… you are the bomb.”

4) “You are so phat and dope and sick, you make me sick.”

In which scenarios do you smile and shake his hand?

In which scenarios do you slap him?

In which scenarios do you give him a great big wet kiss and yell, “Thanks dawg! Your club is the shit. I mean this joint is so totally ass, I want to burn it down!"?

This week's opening line... I'm thinking of it as a middle-grade novel, first-person narration...

Being invisible would be great, imagine all of the trouble you could stay out of.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

And now to music... from the movie "The Stork Club", I bring you, Betty Hutton, (I have to admit, I find this hilarious).

Speedonius Blogio Poemus

2011-03-26T22:54:00.000-07:00

Searching for one I’d misplaced, I found a quote I’d all but erased,

Simple, succinct with down homey air, Harper Lee is a pillar of grace.

“I think there's just one kind of folks. Folks.” –Harper Lee

If you have a favorite quote or aphorism, please share.

Munk’s Opening line,

Her message was simple, but her voice, loud.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

A moral in a song. Mr. Marty Robbins (my favorite baritone) sings The Cowboy in the Continental Suit.

"We thought he must be crazy when he opened up the gate, standing just inside was fifteen hundred pounds of hate."

Metaphies and Analogors

2011-03-20T08:39:00.000-07:00

I led readers astray last week with drifty descriptors. I am sorry.

It is with mild humility and great excitement that I announce I have joined Analogists Anonymous. No more sloppy, far reaching, unclear analogies for me. I'm gonna be like, like a really clear speaking person. Yeah, that’s it, like a person who speaks his thoughts straight and really clear. This is gonna be a piece of pie.

To sum: though I have a book trailer (again, a massive thanks to Jodi and Lisa at www.surreels.com for choosing Syntropy as their first portfolio piece, see right-->), I do not have a book deal, nor even an agent. I am my own editor. I do have a goal of enlisting the help of a professional, and I am currently in the process of beating some freelance editor’s bushes (wait, that metaphor just went terribly wrong and began acting like a dirty little analogy). Which reminds me, I channeled George Carlin last week while trying to explain to my ten-year old how it is okay to use the word “prick” when describing the stab of a needle, but that... we humans bastardize word usage at an alarming rate, to the degree that we may soon run out of "safe" words, queer isn’t it?

And now for something completely different: It has been said, by those who know me well, that watching “Rango” the chameleon, is not unlike watching yours truly in a bad action flick. “No, Munk, really… it’s uncanny…”

I couldn’t be more proud.

Munk's opening line,

As I came spinning from the gun barrel, I knew the world would be forever changed.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

This week’s music

Ferlin Husky—I’ll Be Here For A Lifetime. Best known for “Gone” and “Wings of a Dove”, Ferlin Husky was tremendously influential in the 1950’s Nashville sound. Ferlin died this week at 85.

Trailer Treasure

2011-03-12T14:05:00.000-08:00

Never have I been more excited to share a video. The Syntropy Book Trailer is ready for viewing.
The talented Jodi Chamberlain and the sophisticated Lisa DiPetto at www.surreels.com have breathed animated life into my book with appalling grace. You might want to enlarge the window or bounce to YouTube for viewing, there is so much cool stuffed in this thing that you'll want to catch it all.

The book itself is in the shop. The technicians estimate four to eight months before the old girl is ready to drive again, but they are promising big things... very big things.
Munk's opening line,
Success doesn't taste sweet, it tastes like pork.
Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

No music this week, go back and watch the trailer again, you know you want to.
I am however recommending Cheryl Klein's "Second Sight", a book regarding all things writing. I have read only some of Cheryl's work and was impressed enough to have pre-ordered my copy. If you are a writer and haven't read Cheryl Klein, it's time you do so.

Lucky Animal Charms

2011-03-05T10:35:00.000-08:00

Welcome again to the high maintenance Munk Davis blog. I'm a bit early on the draw this week, but for good reason. The Talented needs our votes.

I can feel your pain... "Munk! Again with the links? I've got a life, I don't have time to be chasing you around the blogiosociosphere clicking your damn links all day, all day, all day."
Buck up Buckbeak, this link holds all the moxie of the last and is a video to boot, one I reckon you've never seen. Too bad for you if you miss out.
Jodi Chamberlain, from here forward to be referred to as the "The Talented", can use our help. She, The Talented, submitted a bright and shiny movie trailer to a dark and scary movie production company and now you can help her get noticed. Cut to the quick: A film titled Animal Charm ran a "give-us-your-best-video-on-which-to-roll-our-credits" contest and The Talented entered. The link to her entry is below, rather than forward you to the You Tube link, please follow the link and vote (if you like). It appears to me that numerous of her competitors have submitted material not related to the movie, but have a lot of "digital" backing. Take a moment, you won't regret it. By the way, for you writers out there... did I mention that Jodi may begin making book trailers?

Jodi's Animal Charm Entry

Munk's opening line...
For Salazar laughing came easy. But not now Salazar, not now.
Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Today's music... the more times I listen, the better it gets... Manchester Orchestra, Simple Math.

Declaring My Blog Love

2011-02-27T07:37:00.000-08:00

Technology was good to me this week. I took a page from my grandfather’s playbook and “talked nice” to the offending machine. Then I let my wife fix the damn thing (dang-she-lovely). Life is good again.

And life is about to get better for you. If you take my advice and begin following my new favorite blog... http://www.studionightshade-myseriallife.com/.

You won’t find out which agent is ranting about "stupid" wannabe writer’s or raving about their client’s latest release, you won’t find out whether or not to query on a Sunday following a full moon or how to write an opening line, you won’t be asked to join a contest (at least that hasn’t happened yet). But, if you enter the world of Studio Nightshade, all of your dreams will come true. Okay, you caught me, I lied just then, but in a world of sensationalized superlatives I needed to get your attention. And now that I have it, here is my recommendation, pour yourself a cup of joe, settle into a comfy spot and begin reading the blog—from let’s say January 13 (http://www.studionightshade-myseriallife.com/2011/01/my-nom-de-bistro-or-what-happened-at.html). Note: January 13's entry contains my new favorite phrase “urban ocular behavior”. If you aren’t swooning by January 30, there is no hope for you.

Oh, and mind your step, as a leader, JF can be a tad unreliable.

Munk's opening line... high concept if I say so myself.

The fruit proved sweet. And thus, I had proven myself God.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Today's music: The Shins'--Young Pilgrims, for no better reason than it is one of my favorites...

Stardusted Hoagies

2011-02-19T22:45:00.000-08:00

Do you ever feel as if technology is just a little too difficult? Is the ease of plug and play, just not really that easy at all?
Take heart, you’re not the only one. This week NASA reported that their two-hundred million dollar "Stardust" probe inexplicably forwarded images of the Tempel 1 comet back to earth--get this--out of order from the order in which they were taken. Did some of the files take a longer route on their way back? Maybe one had to stop at a Martian diner for a cup of Joe.
Now, before you alien conspiracy folks get your black t-shirts in a knot, ask yourself when the last time your software decided to chart its own course.
It’s not the aliens… it’s obviously the ghosts in the machine.
Munk's opening line:
Sure, stardust sounds enchanting, but get some in your eye and it burns like a bitch.
Munk's "opening line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Today's music? You guessed it... Stardust by Hoagy, sung by Willie.

White Malice

2011-02-12T16:15:00.000-08:00

Palaces of ginger, palaces of white,

Malice be my mentor, guiding me at night,

We skirt the darkened shadows, drawn by glare of light,

For what would be our charge, if hidden from your sight?

I found a new writing cave today, it’s vacant, it’s fenestrated, it’s awesome.

Where do you write?

Munk's opening line(s),

Pills. I eat pills morning, day and night. I don't like the taste, I eat them because I am hungry.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Today's music: Fleet Foxes, White Winter Hymnal. Headphones... eyes closed... there you go.

Exit Through the Gift Shop: Blipview

2011-02-05T18:18:00.000-08:00

The Banksy film Exit Through the Gift Shop is 60 minutes of "hey, that's cool," and 30 minutes of "Holy crap, you have got to be kidding me." Big fun, major hypocrisy.

In other news,
I'm rooting for Green Bay this weekend because Tim Riley is.

I also love this post about trying to write while holding down a job by A Novel Novelist.

Munk's opening line:

I am hate. But only to those who hate me.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Today's music... The Plank by The Devil Makes Three. Try not to get sucked in. I like their latest album best, but The Plank still spices my drink. If you like it, go buy it, you will not be disappointed; this YouTube version seems compressed and lo-fi.

Frosted Godflakes

2011-01-29T22:22:00.000-08:00

I have little desire for discussion today

so ask me no questions, but don't go away

my life and my nest are in such disarray

please silence your words, but for heaven's sake, stay

Munk's opening line,

Lauren licked her again. The other's were right, girls did taste like cinnamon.

The opening line is yours to keep, use it.

Munk

This week's musical interlude...
The Louvin Brothers -- The Great Atomic Power
Form your own opinion on the lyrics, but those chorus harmonies are like frosted godflakes. Are you ready?

May Charlie Louvin RIP

Who Do You Propose to Be Tomorrow?

2011-01-23T08:14:00.000-08:00

Author Reynolds Price died this week. He spent the last (very productive) thirty years of his life relegated to a wheelchair as a result of lifesaving treatments for spinal cancer.
He once stated that the one thing that could have helped him through the initial stages of paraplegia, was if someone he respected had looked him in the eye and spoken the following words.
"Reynolds Price is dead, who do you propose to be tomorrow?"

Munk's opening line...
The new sergeant reeked of malicious intent--I was drawn to him.
Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Today's musical pick, chosen as a companion piece to Calamity Song from the Decemberists' new album.
Talk About the Passion by REM--Murmur.

The Art of Lying... to Oneself

2011-01-16T08:58:00.000-08:00

I've got a brand new opening and it's great! Let me tell you about it...
Well yeah, that's me. I tend to think every change I make to my book is THE change, the one that will take it from "eh..." to "whoa, how cool is that!". I don't mind lying to myself (sometimes). It keeps me moving. How stupid would I feel if I missed the boat because I didn't even go to the pier? I must admit, however, the execution of my strategy isn't perfect. When coming off a dry period, the enormity of the odds against me flashes on a neon red number board, just behind my eyes. If you look closely on those days you can see it there, flashing away like a megabucks jackpot sign. Society installed the sign years ago as a measure of protection against my dreaming too large.
As such, I often have this vision of myself as the guy who is constantly talking nonsense about his next big idea. The truth is, I am that guy, but I guess I don't care. You only live once.
You know, I really do have a brand new opening... Let me tell you about it...

Munk's opening line.

Jason faced the wild non sequitur from the back, it was time to pledge his allegiance.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Today's music, The Old Crow Medicine Show: I Hear Them All.

Beneath the Tilt-a-Whirl

2011-01-09T19:19:00.000-08:00

Some may call it a sellout. I call it damn fine music.

I have been aware of The Decemberists, and their front man Colin Meloy, since the beginning of their musical run. How could I not be, my early pop music compass was Colin’s uncle, Paul. Paul introduced me to REM’s “Gardening at Night” (the Athens band’s first LP) and to Joy Division before there was a New Order.

I met Colin once. I think he was 17. He corrected my butchering of David Gray’s lyrics as I belted out “Made Up My Mind” in the house Paul and I rented in college. Charitable to a fault, Colin made no mention of my vocal miss-stylings.

I was an early fan. The Decemberists’, “Shiny,” from their first EP, “5 Songs”, still sets my back ashiver (click below). But try as I might, I just couldn’t keep the fire burning for the Portland based band regardless of their critical and financial success.

The spark has returned. The Decemberists’ new LP “The King is Dead” delivers everything I want and need in a prog-rock-folk-alternative-Americana album without the hyperliteration. Colin’s minstrel-esque accents are cut to a minimum and replaced by an unadorned, energized clarity of voice. Other highlights include Gillian Welch’s graceful, home rooted harmonies enhancing several tracks such as, “Down by the Water” and “All Arise!”. My favorite cut, “Calamity Song” is, thanks to Peter Buck, the best REM song REM never recorded.

Shiny:

The New Album: The King is Dead

Munk's Opening line:

I couldn't pull the trigger.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Plaid Pants in White

2011-01-01T16:35:00.000-08:00

Writing is a multi-headed bitch. And the patience required to deal with the old girl is daunting. It’s the writer’s job to make the reader’s job easy. You see... readers are lazy and yet they want every little thing just so—effortlessly.
They want connection.
They want to be intrigued.
They want the thrills of adventure without the confusion.
They want to taste their first kiss over and over again.
They are exactly like me and I love them for that.

Random musical entertainment: A place where even squares can have a ball (no disrespect to Merle... but point made).

Munk's opening line:
Flying is not for the weak of wing.
Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

The Old Mill Stream of Consciousness

2010-12-26T17:47:00.000-08:00

A little about me... it is my blog after all.
I'm old. I know this because I am grizzled. I wish my voice was deeper, it would help my acting career. Perhaps I should take up smoking.
My kids enjoy playing games on the floor. I don't, it hurts to get up. My leg went to sleep the other day while building a marble maze with my ten-year old. It took two shots of espresso to wake it up. I ended up walking in circles for hours.
I wanted to name my first born "Invention" but my wife, Necessity, wouldn't abide, she claimed the name was cliché. I love her to death, but I'm not sure I necessarily need Necessity's allegories. So, I said so, in so many words, and found out that I do so... necessarily.
But enough about me...

I submit more music... if you failed to click on the link I posted a couple of weeks ago for The Be Good Tanyas, you are in luck... it's smooth, it's creamy, it's Oootischenia and ever so Canadian...

Munk's opening line:
Sneezy hated Groucho's visits; his cigars made him cough.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Nutcracker Epitome

2010-12-18T09:31:00.000-08:00

For the unfamiliar, this week I submit a gem: The Pogues "Fairytale of New York". Often covered, never matched, this studio version from 1987 feature's Shane MacGowan's gravel-hammer voice in a restrained duet with Kirsty MacColl. For her part, Kirsty's precise and sturdy vocal's weave effortlessly through Shane's powerful turn. Two of the best at their best.

The epitome of the Christmas ballad.

Munk's opening line,

Bathed in red light, tiny Vampire Elvis loosened his cape and topped off his lungs with air.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

PS... did you notice Matt Dillon at the beginning of the vid?

My Ten-Year-Old's Gorilla

2010-12-12T16:11:00.000-08:00

An auto-feed paper towel dispenser ignored me this morning. Either my pre-coffee, matte-finish expression was insufficient in reflecting a requisite number of photons or the machine simply gave me the brush-off. Perhaps I appeared untrustworthy or undeserving or both. Whatever the reason, the oh-so important wipey-box would not relinquish its water absorbent booty.

So I danced. As embarrassing as it sounds I waved my hands, smiled expectantly, and pleaded audibly with the stingy machine—all to no avail.

With an air of contempt, I wiped my hands on my pants and departed, leaving the auto-dispenser to stew in its own self importance. Technology is so overrated.

For Munk's opening line, we have a vote this week... which book would you read?

We drank to the tears of our slain enemies.

or....
We drank the tears of our slain enemies.

or... (this is a late entry offered by my 10 year old).
A deep rumbling sound emanated from the dark cavern. A split second later a giant gorilla burst through the wall.

Munk's (and now Jensen's) "Opening Lines" are yours to keep, use them. Munk

Monkey Sea Monkey Doo

2010-12-05T20:12:00.000-08:00

Is writing noble?

Is the joy of writing enough? Enough to spend hours away from your family, holed up in a library’s nook, unshaven and un-showered? I say yes. I say the joy of writing extends beyond the simple act of dreaming up heroes and villains. It is more than the spewing of theological ideals and expounding on theories of love.

Efficient communication (writing) forces deliberate thinking (senility is of my greatest long-term fears). It also sets an example for those around you. In my case, my children.

It is no secret that my family is my greatest inspiration, they are also my biggest fans. “How is the next book going Daddy? What is going to happen? Please, please, please tell us…”

I saw myself in my kids the other day while both were gleefully creating characters and writing stories (multi-paneled cartoons ala Dav Pilkey)... and good ones at that. I love to watch them laugh at each other’s silliness. If the example I set while writing instills a love for stories and communication in my children, then I say writing is noble. And, further, that the joy of writing extends well beyond the simple act of scratching out words.

Munk's opening line,

The view from the cannon's barrel rounded out Jon's sour mood—posing as gel palace guards the tantric sea monkeys had once again assumed control of the ship.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Prodding Your Muse with Head Cheese

2010-11-28T13:05:00.000-08:00

When I write I can't listen to music. I like quiet. I find music intoxicating; it draws me in and I stop writing. I just listen. What about you? Does music prod your muse or distract your focus?

I take my music before and after I write. I place the songs in the scenes I've created. Booker's story has a soundtrack... Having difficulty finding links to entire songs, I am instead resigned (with a few exceptions) to pointing you toward samplers. Try as many as you like, their small. Make sure you are listening in stereo.

For Syntropy:

Opening scene/credits… “America on Horseback”… Charlie Pickett (click on A. on Horseback)

Booker and Opal’s theme… “Beautiful Thing” by The Old 97’s

Stealing the truck… “Here’s to the Halcyon” by the Old 97’s (find it near the bottom)

Myna’s Kitchen… "Ooteschenia (Opal)" by the Be Good Tanyas

The GTO… “La Grange” by ZZ Top (don't look at the picture or read the lyrics... just focus on the guitar riff)

For Booker’s second book:

General theme… “Up the Devil’s Pay” by the Old 97’s

Booker’s opening scene… “Time Bomb” by the Old 97’s (track one)

General thematic ambiance… two of my favorite bands as of late:

The Old Crow Medicine Show

And the Devil Makes Three (two full songs from their most recent effort exist at the bottom of the page)

Both are old timey awesome… pretty much everything they touch sets my heart aflutter.

Munk's opening line...

In a fit of hunger, Coco stuffed herself with handfuls of processed head cheese product.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Toss Caution

2010-11-21T19:07:00.000-08:00

Imagine steering your fragile vessel of flesh carelessly toward a class five hurricane. Imagine swinging branch to branch hundreds of feet above the earth without looking down. You are marvelously free until something goes wrong. It is at that moment you recognize your own mortality. It is then that you find yourself bathed in the penetrating and unflattering light of self importance. You are suddenly confronted with an all too transparent view of your true self; each of your glaring imperfections displayed clearly for all to see.

It is then that you realize how much you owe to those with whom you share unconditional love.

And now for something completely different... If you haven't yet found Lydia Kang's blog ... I recommend you take a moment to investigate her Medical Mondays entries. They are like bite size Radio Labs.

Munk's opening line:

At the security gate, Lorna cheerfully opted for a pat down over a full body scan. In a way, it seemed more personal.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Social Medionics and Viral Qualifiers

2010-11-14T15:53:00.000-08:00

So, okay, a little rant about social media.

I’ll admit I’m a noob, but STFU. I think social media enables soft language which in turn fosters weak opinions. Have any other bloggers, facebookers, or tweeters noticed the overabundance of qualifiers (grin). IMHO, written opinions should be delivered with little humility. I mean—mean what you say and say what you mean (just saying).

If you're wit me, give a WOOT, whatever that is. Or maybe scream “RAWK!” Isn’t this new spelling sensation ka-RAY-zee as well!? Luv it (Squee!). Further, I find it annoying to have to be alerted when someone is attempting humor (LOL!). If it ain't funny, don't type it (LMAO!).

Okay, so really, I mean like, totally no offense peeps *hugs*. Sarcasm aside, I think we can do better (ROTFL). If anyone reads this, plz let me know, k?, c u.

Munk's opening line...

I went out to find myself yesterday and wound up buying a waffle iron (WTF?).

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Data Mining

2010-11-07T17:41:00.000-08:00

Putting it out there.

I want to be a writer. A successful, sellable name. My desire is no secret. I want to be a writer for the simple fact that I enjoy writing. The thrill of having others read my work, and enjoy it, is almost too much to bear. My desire to be sellable is driven by my desire to write more—to write better.

I know it is not yet Thanksgiving , but I would like to thank everyone who has furthered my goal: my beta readers, my critiquers and especially my family for putting up with this crazy dream. I must also say thanks to each of you who spin by and drop a note and those that just spin by and spin back away anonymously. I wish I could spend more time here, but I have begun work on the second in the Syntropy series. The working title: Entropy—The Apprenticeship of Booker T. Bakkus.

Munk’s opening line:

Hearing more voices in her head, Martina was relieved to discover that it was just the miners.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Think Twice Before Reading this Entry

2010-10-31T08:48:00.000-07:00

I grew up in a skeptical house, with skeptical parents. Television commercials, lofty dreams and politicians never stood a chance. “Don’t believe ‘em, there’s no free lunch,” my mother would call over my shoulder when a “message” interrupted Wild, Wild West.

After a while I became skeptical of everything, even my parents. It followed naturally as a self "defeating" prophecy. Don’t believe ‘em, I would say to myself. The words seemed to fix so many things.

Skepticism can make it hard to receive feedback on writing projects. Try as I might, deciphering commentary becomes an exercise of first attempting to understand the source and then dissecting their message. Taking critique at face value is the easiest, and often the most valuable approach…I think.

Munk’s opening line,

The trouble with achievable dreams is that they are ever so achievable.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Blogus Speedonus Dystopius

2010-10-25T21:11:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Dystopia, population everyone. Where no one makes sense except for Protag and his trusty sidekick, Sidekick. Enjoy a lovely dinner of crow and perhaps a side of Sidekick. You can wash it all down with a cold bowl of administroni soup. Just like Mom used to make.

Love, Munk

This week's dystopian opening line,
If today’s satisfaction quotient is Purple, why did I just dodge my third falling smile?

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

The Church of Lindsey Lohan

2010-10-17T20:06:00.000-07:00

My family and I attended the Wordstock Book and Literary Festival this past weekend in Portland.

It was fun and informative. We bought books, looked at authors and I spoke with potential book conspirators.

Looking at authors is interesting. They look so normal, so… bookish. What’s with that? I was doing my usual stagger, sans cowboy boots and sport jacket, and stood out like Lindsey Lohan at church. I hope my boots and jacket don’t add up to a liability, but thinking about it, I strongly doubt it so. Does anybody really care? I know that agents and publishers want a sellable product and that the author’s persona is a part of the package, but I tend to think they just want to know that they are working with a professional, someone capable of combing their shirt and tucking in their hair.

I would like to know how many people had the slightest idea what JK Rowling looked like before buying the first H. Potter. For that matter, was the buying public aware that “JK” was a woman? Word has it, her first publisher wanted to suppress her femininity so that the target market (boys) wouldn’t be put off. That is to say they wanted to suppress the femininity of her name, not her per se… that would be sick. So my point is that yes, I do agree that good hygiene is important for an author, but it is mainly to impress the book sellers, not the buyers.

The question I am asking myself now is why I even spend time making such distinctions?

Munk's opening line:

Bilk noticed the strength of his father's third hand; it had obviously been repaired in the fight.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

PS... It's true, I title my blogs just to make them look interesting.

The Good, the Bad, The Weird: a Blipview

2010-09-19T18:12:00.000-07:00

Keeping with the meandering nature of this blogadoo. Today, I offer a nano movie review (a blipview). Anyone who remembers Max Headroom should get the reference.
I am one who avoids reviews with synopses, so no worries, if you haven't seen the film, but plan to, I doubt my blipview will give anything away. I have been impressed by the risks taken lately by Asian cinema...

If you liked Stephen Chow's Kung Fu Hustle, then The Good, the Bad, The Weird by Kim Ji-woon is for you.

Three plates of double chocolate cinematic fudge.

Big screen and 5.1 surround: HIGHLY recommended.

Note: probably not a film for horse lovers or people who don’t enjoy watching other people in painfully painful--pain.

Bang, you’re dead.

This week's opening line...
I was twenty-three before I discovered the French were dead wrong about kissing.
Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Toil and Trouble

2010-09-10T19:07:00.000-07:00

Work. Writing takes work. I don’t mind the toil, but I often wonder if what I am doing to the manuscript is an improvement.
Subjectivity is my enemy. I fear it. I fear that it skulks through my confidence, plying my ego with delusions of grandeur.
Is it getting better, or just getting different?

Shaking the bush, Boss. Shaking the bush.

Munk's opening line...

It was a century ride on the life-cycle of death.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Rules, Rules, Rules

2010-08-29T21:08:00.000-07:00

Cut words to make more sense. Drop adverbs for purity. Stop telling start showing. Put an inciting incident in the first chapter. Know each of the character’s agendas. Use dialogue to drive the story. Find a unique voice. Write an outline. Don’t repeat words. Remove small talk. Stay tight (one of my favorites by the way). Use similes. Watch your tents (this one confuses me). Pace, find balance. Don’t change your POV mid-paragraph. Eye before EEE. Don’t fragment. Use a legible 12-pt font, headers on each page and DOUBLE SPACE… know your rules dammit...........and then break a few.

Who has a rule they would like to share?

This week's opening line...

From what Jurgen could tell, the barn dance was going well.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Priorities: The Straight and Narrow

2010-08-14T08:29:00.000-07:00

Yeah, it’s been a while since I posted. Apologies to all youse fervent readers. The truth is, Munk’s been busy.

I attended the Willamette Writer’s Conference last weekend and now have piles of material to sift through and some letters to write. As much as I enjoy blogging. The book is the real deal for me. The blog be damned. There I said it. Though I love staying in touch, and miss it greatly when I am gone. My true goal is to improve my writing craft. To that end, my priorities fall as such… please offer your priorities in response.

1. 1) Family (I am not going to itemize this header)

2. 2) Health (in support of everything)

3. 3) Job (in support of #1 above)

4. 4) Writing (the book baby, the book)

5. 5) All else (mowing fences, building lawns, watching blogs, writing movies, verb confusion etc…)

This week I am on vacation with the famdamnly and loving it. Lots of sitting, some waterslides, aquariums, grandmas and space staring after a good night’s sleep and a cup of joe—all in support of #2 above of course—do try to keep up.

Munk’s opening line(s),

Miss Kale’s voice was scratchy. So much so, Amber imagined a small trickle of blood breaking the surface of her eardrums whenever the old woman spoke.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Sensory Underload

2010-08-01T21:34:00.000-07:00

Have you ever looked over the edge, just to give yourself a thrill? Have you ever thought what it might be like to freefall without a parachute? Terminal velocity must feel a lot like the weightlessness of outer space—but a whole lot louder. I think the wind would sort of mess up the experience for me. I don’t enjoy traveling, at speed, in the backseat of convertibles. The thought of it, the notion of skimming along at 70mph with the top down is engaging enough, but the reality is shaken by the wind. Pushing aside the atmosphere at that velocity generates a great deal of turmoil. Nitrogen, oxygen and argon molecules racing against my eyes, slamming my hair against my scalp and coursing through my ears is fatiguing. The only relief is to stop. And even then, a sort of sensory underload persists, like a hangover buzzing in my ears and dulling my existence… Hmmmm… coming full circle, I’ve just realized that I began this notion with a terminal velocity freefall. What would the stop at the end of that trip feel like?

Munk’s opening lime,

It was said that everything in Citruscine smelled of pine and tasted of pepper—Lyman just had to visit.

Munk

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Writing Worth Reading

2010-07-25T18:36:00.000-07:00

Today’s blog is about books. Though I have read steadily throughout my life, I have never been a voracious reader. I read books the same way I watch movies. I analyze them. Afterward, I run them over in my mind, but rarely do I read (or watch) them twice. My meticulous ways have left me with a great treasure—all of those great books I haven’t yet read.

Just recently I picked up To Kill a Mockingbird for the first time. I was elated to discover how incredibly entertaining it is. Somehow I was expecting social commentary with a plot; I was not expecting to laugh out loud at every other page (I’m grinning now just thinking about it). By the way, am I the only one who thinks 'Harper Lee' is one of the coolest names on record?

If’n you have kids. You might try one of the following titles. My kids and I enjoyed both Abel’s Island by William Steig and Misty of Chincoteague by Marguerite Henry. Well written engaging stories.

Munk’s opening line:

Pounding, that’s what Ginger liked to do. She liked pounding smaller kids over the head with her beaded purse.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Rot Iron-y

2010-07-18T15:46:00.000-07:00

I’m an unsinkable ship. I am an iron fortress. Thar be no iceberg big enough, thar be no sea angry enough, and thar be no enemy strong enough to drown me. I shall never leave my bounty on the ocean floor to be picked at by scavengers or degraded by rust. Ignore me at your peril, for I shall forever prevail, never to be discarded, never to be forgotten. Or… maybe… I’ll just head to seven-eleven for a slurpee. Anyone?

I am still working on Booker. The new version is currently in the hands of a few beta readers. If I forgot to send you your copy, let me know. Off to the Willamette Writer's Conference in a few weeks.

Today’s opening line…

“Call me Hang Nail.”

(I know it is similar to a previous submission, but I just couldn't help myself.)
Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

The Reluctant Critic

2010-07-11T19:09:00.000-07:00

Hey again… welcome back to Munk’s blog. For all you writers out there… by now you have probably noticed that I am not a wealth of information with regards to writing advice or inspiration, unless of course my opening lines spark you in some way. In this regard, today’s meanderings are again useless. Instead I shall offer a sociological observation.

Over the past week, I have been asked on two separate occasions to fill out a comment card for service for which I have paid for and received. Once I was even asked, that if I liked the service, could I please check the “excellent” box on the card, because the “good” box doesn’t really mean “good” it means “fair” or “poor”… So if I could just check the “excellent” box, that would be great.

Here is my thought… If you are going to open a restaurant, and you want your employees to provide excellent service, go to the restaurant, work at the restaurant and show your employees how to provide excellent service… Don’t ask your customers to do your job for you, because we suck at it… I didn’t even fill the comment card out.

Oh… and for you writers out there… here’s this week’s opening line:

Boiling electrons turned out to be so much fun, Marcie immediately attempted the experiment with protons.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Independence

2010-07-05T21:26:00.000-07:00

I know my blogs are short... but it gives you more time to comment. Yippee!

Taking most of the weekend off from writing, I have left myself little time to blog. It is becoming habit, this speed blogging. I want to write, and write I shall. I am a handful of pages away from a final read through before one last revision.

I have been reading the book to my kids lately, even Audrey, the seven year old is finding a place in her heart for Booker and Opal. “Too many big words at the beginning,” she said, “way too big!” Things have changed however, now that Booker and Opal are striding stalwartly through unchartered territories… Too many big words…. I know, I know.

This week's opening line (by the way, I am still waiting for someone to use one of these.)
Jimmy felt the presents of a close friend.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Munk Manners

2010-06-27T18:56:00.000-07:00

Last week I was bequeathed a blog award by the lovely Doctor Kang. As such, I am compelled to bestow a bequeathing of thine own. It is called the “Backatcha” and it is just like it sounds; a wimpy response to a truly pay-it-forward effort. It is also one of the riskier awards in the blogashpere, because it involves my entering the recipient’s name in my “Opening Line”. So, if you do not want to see your name show up in my opening line, best not be bequeathing Munk for any awards. Keep in mind I like to keep the opening line interesting, and I therefore take expansive liberties. After all, what is an opening line if not provocative?

Without further ado… Munk’s Backatcha award for June… Backatcha Lydia.

The discovery of the cadaver’s additional orifice came as no surprise to Coroner Kang, but what was that parked inside – a key?

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Good for Nothing

2010-06-18T21:38:00.000-07:00

No, really, if you are looking for substance, you've come to the wrong place. I got nothing. I'm working the book. Smacking it, slapping it, coaxing it into submission ready form. It is definitely better, and I am not just saying that. Or maybe I was just saying that. There, I said it.

The good news... due to the short blog post I am offering up two opening lines. Perhaps one will tickle your fancy, or your funny bone, or your Aunt Nancy's fancy funny bone, or that place that is really ticklish that you haven't told anyone about for the fear of being tickled there in public and spitting your coffee and squealing like a girl. I know what you're thinking, but I don't have one of those places - so don't even ask.

Munk's opening lines...
1) Marshmallows had always been Marsha’s favorite snack, but eating them all today would leave none for tomallow. (Okay, that sucks as an opening line, but it does kind of sound funny.)

2) Trails are meant to be followed, unless they are entrails.

Munk's "Opening Lines" are yours to keep, use them. Munk.

Yo Blog... it was a Bit Pitchy

2010-06-12T09:10:00.000-07:00

How very fragile the world’s human supply - but if not for its delicate nature, thrills would be much harder to come by.

I have been attending writing meetings again; and very much enjoyed meeting some new folks in Salem this week. We practiced pitching. Not the baseball type, but the “hey, look at me, I’ve got a book to sell” type. Frankly I wish I could just write and leave the pitching to the professionals, but all-in-all the group was generous with ideas and they threw nothing back of any physical mass. It was great. I said thank you then, but I’ll say it again now. Thank you.

Other news: Booker remains deep in revision mode. Weekends are for family and writing. I plan to have the new revision complete by early August.

Munk's opening line...

Teddy stared back at his sister and asked, "what do you mean by my 'good' underwear?

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Booker Obtuse

2010-06-05T08:48:00.000-07:00

Travel far enough away from the Earth’s surface and the truth about its rugged terrain is revealed. Our planet is a near perfect sphere and is as smooth as polished stone. At odds with the endless vacuum of space we humans cling tenuously to the Earth's fragile crust; spinning away our days sandwiched between a sea of molten rock and an impossibly thin film of atmospheric perfection.

For us to survive, it all has to work. The ice, the rain, the steam, omnivores, herbivores, carnivores, hosts, parasites, predators and prey – symbiosis is real – and all living things adapt. We adapt, or evolve, to survive. It has been said that evolution, based on chance, is too slow. These voices claim that our mere presence on Earth proves the existence of a guiding force which compels living things toward higher and higher levels of physical order. Were this force to be concentrated in any single life form, even a simple one, we might all be doomed.

It is comforting to know that as living things evolve, so do heroes.

Munk's opening line:
With the stationary bike peloton raging, Guthrie decided to make his move.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

A Lucky Man

2010-05-29T16:06:00.000-07:00

A colleague of my mine lost his wife, this week, to cancer. He has two kids.

Years ago, long before his wife's cancer, he told me that he was unbelievably lucky. He claimed that without his wife, he would surely be lost; that she kept him grounded in reality. You know, the whole, "I'm weak, but my saint-like wife keeps me on track" syndrome. Think "Sugar Magnolia" first chorus. I agreed readily with his logic, not just because I thought he was indeed weak and needed a saint-like wife, but because I thought the same about myself, in triplicate. Now, looking back, his statement makes about as much sense as bubble gum toothpaste.

I have proof. Consider his response to the news that his wife was sick. Sure, I'll bet he got chapped off, I'll bet he howled and thrashed and screamed at times, but when all was said and done he stepped up and carried the day brilliantly. He performed his enhanced roles of caregiver, breadwinner, and father extraordinaire with incredible grace for two years.

But wait there is more... he didn't HAVE to marry her. He had choices. I mean, it wasn't like he drew a lottery ticket and found matrimonial bliss. I figure matrimonial bliss requires three things, 1) a proper choice, 2) hard work (by both parties), and 3) a smidgeon of luck. Therefore, I submit, that he wasn't just lucky. It simply doesn't work that way. He made a damn good choice, worked hard and eked out a bit of love, it just felt lucky. He knew from the outset that his wife was right for him, perhaps he just wasn't aware how right she was. May the good choices and hard work continue.

I learned a lot by watching his efforts, both about him and myself. Though I take zero responsibility for his strength and hard work, I can honestly say I am proud to know him. I desperately wish, for his sake, I could have learned the lessons in a different way, but I guess, in some ways, just by knowing him, I'm the lucky one.

Munk's "Opening Line" is on hiatus this week.

So Much Time and So Little to Say

2010-05-21T21:03:00.000-07:00

When life gets overwhelming, run away. Don’t face those monsters; lull them to sleep with inactivity. Anyone who knows me knows that I live in the world of avoidance - not.

I can’t help but fight the good fight. Hopefully, as I get older, I am better at choosing the battles that are worth engaging, and I don’t mean simply those that I believe I can win. There is more than catharsis to be gained from a battle lost. There is education on both sides of the trenches. The trick is to mediate the learning pains, so that what is lost is not broken.

Wow. Did I just say all that or was I channeling Confucius? No disrespect to the great teacher… oh, and while I’m at it, don’t tie your shoes in your neighbor’s watermelon patch.

Munk's opening line:

Call me E-mael.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

This is What it Sounds Like When Monkeys Cry

2010-05-15T08:34:00.000-07:00

Maybe you’re just like my mother

(If anyone gets that, let me know.)

I am so busy that I have little to blog. I read the content in other writer’s blogs and I can’t figure how they have time to write a book, live life and blogadoo daily. I must be a really slow writer or just be living too large. Not that I mind either. Speaking of blogs I removed the technology rant I posted last week. Mind you, I still think technology designers are way too focused on glitz and not convenience, but the subject deserves a much better analysis.

Oh, for those of you interested, I have been attending writer’s meetings. You heard right, I leave work, and instead of going home to my lovelies, I go to another meeting. The truth is, it’s not quite as bad as it sounds. I have learned a few things. Not the least of which – there are others like me. It’s weird though, we aren’t there to try to talk one another out of our obsessions. I had my speech all prepared… “Hi my name is Munk and I am a writer… I haven’t written a word in… oh crap, I can’t lie, I wrote again today….”

Today’s opening line…

As her sphincter tightened, Jenny realized that balancing the golden unicycle had become second nature.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it.
Munk

Trashy Souls and Talking Roses

2010-05-01T08:02:00.000-07:00

When I was 6 or 93,

I met a rose that said to me,

Don’t turn around lest you shall see,

A monster that will never be.

I took that flower’s dreadful dare,

And spun to lock the beast in stare,

But the rose’s honor had been fair,

When I swung to look, found nothing there.

Munk's opening line:

For the third time in a week, careless Freddie found the shiny part of her soul in the trash bin.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Half the Way There Just Wouldn't be Fair... (The Old 97's)

2010-04-23T20:24:00.000-07:00

The Midwestern Cornbelt; it's the land from which Booker hales. It is the setting of my little story and that which I cannot change. St. Louis, the Gateway to the West, sits square in the middle of the Cornbelt and so, therefore, does the Arch - like a stainless steel buckle. It stays. The Arch remains in the story.

I suppose that, if by some off chance, Booker gets an offer for publishing, and that publisher gives me an ultimatum, akin to “Munk, yank it or lose the contract”, well, I guess I’ll cross that arch when I get to it.

Friends, thanks for all of the positive comments and especially to Dawnelle for squaring me around.

Munk's opening line,

I loved my city; on Sundays, Barry and I would count the cars speeding through to the drive-through window at the acupuncturist’s office.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it. Munk

Milli Vanilli

2010-04-16T20:58:00.000-07:00

A few nights ago my nine year old gave me some sickening news. He showed me where some amazing similarities exist between “The Education of Booker T. Bakkus” and “Percy Jackson and the Olympians - The Lightning Thief”. My choice for the iconic Gateway Arch as the backdrop for Booker T’s turning point is entirely similar to a scene in the Lightning Thief. Ouch! Why did we ever teach that kid to read anyway?

I currently have no plan as to how to respond to this terrible realization. I think that in the five steps of grief I am only slightly east of denial - nowhere near acceptance. The gateway arch was so much a part of my story that it existed long before many of the characters. Taking the arch out of the story would literally be like cutting off one of the character's limbs.

Next up I plan to write a novel about this crazy Swedish dude named Quixjohan who has a penchant for attacking water wheels on his goat named Rochefort. Look for it in your local garage sale "free" bin soon.

Munk’s opening line,

Munk's ill fitting belt was of little concern. The sudden realization that his pants were at his ankles wasn't nearly as bothersome as having just learned THAT HE HAD WRITTEN NEARLY THE EXACT SAME SCENE INTO HIS NOVEL THAT SOMEONE ELSE HAD THREE YEARS PRIOR.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it.

Munk

Don't Bother Me, I'm Writing

2010-04-10T07:14:00.000-07:00

I have to write. It has become a basic human need for me. I do not have time to psychoanalyze my new, unrequested, compulsion. Besides, psychoanalysis might uncover something I don't want uncovered right now. I am not afraid that I might reveal a skeleton in my closet of whom I would find disagreeable. I just damn well enjoy having a passion for writing and I want to keep it for a while.

Munk's opening line,

With her life-size voodoo doll draped over her shoulders, Perus struggled to out-pedal the mutinous traitors.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it.

Munk

I can wait for death, but everything else I have to try

2010-04-02T21:03:00.000-07:00

Boring blogs might mean better books. At least in my case. You see, I really haven't grown up, and every passing year it gets a skosh harder to never do so. I will NOT grow up if means that I am forced to put a stopper in the bung hole of my barrel of discovery. And writing a book, a good book, is like childhood - it's all about discovery. It's also hard, dammit, it takes an Olympic effort of mental gymnastics - at least for me. Therefore, based on the little known theory of "conservation of eureka" the future quality of my blogadoo may be at risk.

Here is how it works, it all begins with a simple "if". "If", at the beginning of something, it is hard for me to see that something's end, that "something" is all the more intriguing for me to try. I used to run - and not just a little. There were years of 60 and even 70 mile weeks, but I've never run a marathon and only a few solo races. When I peaked in my running "career" I was fast, really fast, on the verge of elite. But I saw my limits, I would never win, or even place, in a race of any consequence. So I stopped racing. I never cared to finish just behind the top 3 finishers, not because I was proud, but because the knowing that I could never mount a real challenge to win, left me the freedom to say, "well, I gave it a shot". I continued running for the simple fact that I liked running - But, now I knew the ending. I was destined to finish races somewhere near the top, but never first, second or even third - I knew the ending.

In addition, I rarely watch movies twice, and I've only recently begun reading books twice - because, you guessed it, I know the ending, so why bother?

I love writing because writing is not knowing the ending - in spades. Both the act of story creation and the possibilities of actually getting published, drip of the unknown. My writing endeavors are already paying off. The unexpected joy of the review process, see Blogadoo Editor in Brief, is enriching. Every review I have received has been enlightening and most are inspiring. It's weird, but even seeing someone point out a typo is exciting simply because it reminds me that the person has actually read the story. Seeing exclamations and fun comments in the margins of my manuscript, from anyone, even my mother is nothing less than thrilling. I say "even my mother" because aren't mother's supposed to love everything you do? Mine does, but she is also critically helpful at times by offering superior insights. And while I am on the topic of reviews... recently sending my story to an editor for a "consult" filled me with copious amounts of trepidation and excitement - I didn't know the ending.

By the way, the review was inspiring. My thought is, "if you ain't feelin' it, you ain't wantin' it," and based on how much I've enjoyed writing this past week, "I is feelin' it". So, I plan to pour my diminishing childhood into the book for a while, so my blog may suffer.

For those interested, the editor's name is Jaimee Garbacik at Footnote Editorial in Seattle. She's excellent at her work, that link again... Blogadoo Editor in Brief.

Munk's opening line

"The calluses on Martin's nipples forced him to reflect on the prudence of his latest enterprise."

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it.

Munk

Alliterative Blogadoom

2010-03-28T08:43:00.000-07:00

Today's blog is all about the future. So, I guess you could say that today's blog is about tomorrow.

This week I began putting completion dates on my writing. This could be a terrible thing, time will tell. I hate missing deadlines, but in opposition to the deadline, the schedule faces an unmovable object called quality. I will not tolerate a reduction in quality (or scope) for Booker and that creates a significant risk for conflict. I may experiment with trying to find some new times to write and see how that works.

If I can find the time I'll let you know...

Munk's opening line:

Turner turned his eyes to the future, and in turn, turned the tables on his past.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it.

Munk

The Mothers of Convention

2010-03-20T08:41:00.000-07:00

Not much to say today, except that rejections keep trickling in.

Now I must focus on the “new” Booker, and my job, and my children, and my wife. It’s enough to make a person wall-eyed. I guess that means I’m blessed. Lots to do, lots to love, lots to dream. I know that’s not a sentence, but grammar never was my strength, nor do I even believe in it strongly. Perhaps as a writer I should respect grammar more… Nah.

Grammar is just convention, and as a rule I detest conventions. Not the kind of conventions where trekkies meet trekkies or photonics nerds meet other photonics nerds, but the defined rules that tell you what you are supposed to do, because, “that’s the way it’s always been done around here”. Some level of conventions are, of course, required. For instance, I can’t speak in tongues while ordering a hamburger and expect to be fed, but there is some breaking of convention that is delicious. For me, it is what makes writing fun. One of my goals as a writer is to become sly enough at breaking the rules, that even though most folks know I’m making a mess of things, it comes off as our little secret and they don’t mind tiptoeing through the sea of broken rules with me.

Munk’s opening line:

“Casper, where the hell do you get off floating into this house smelling of the living?”

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it.

Munk

Editor-in-Brief

2010-03-14T08:30:00.000-07:00

Booker received an excellent review this week by a brilliant young editor. That isn't to say that she thought Booker was excellent, but she did excellently point out where the story and its telling could be improved. Though respectful, her edit was by no means gentle. She found some of the story engaging. She also very clearly pointed out where I need to get my s**t together. All in all the experience was unquestionably useful, and it’s driving me closer to my goal as a writer.

"I don't want to be everybody's favorite author, but I do want to write a few people's favorite book"

The best thing about the review was how clearly my editor pointed to weak, slow and otherwise clunky portions of the book. At times her ability to read the author through the words bordered on eerie. Referencing one point near the end of the book she mentioned that the pace sounded rushed, like I might have been in a hurry. Damn right I was in a hurry, I wanted to finish the blasted (beloved) thing so that I could get someone to tell me if it was any good, or "not just crap" as my wife once pointed out.

In other places she very delicately told me to "STOP SPOON FEEDING and CUT THE REDUNDANCIES, your back-story reads like a list of anecdotes, Urgh… YOU CAN’T WRITE A NOVEL LIKE THIS!" She furthered her usefulness by pointing to a couple of my strengths; techniques she felt I could use to overcome my failings. To a novice writer who genuinely wants to write a better book, lovelier words were never uttered. Mainly because I could see by her frustrations that she really wanted to see the story work. How often in your life do you work with someone that sincerely wants to see your vision succeed?

Sure, I had to pay for the service, but I received value back for my pay in spades. I don’t plan to take every piece of advice she offered, but I am making sure I understand, as best I can, why she offered it. Understanding how people respond to my writing maybe the most interesting thing I’ve experienced on this journey besides the writing itself.

If you are an artist or simply alive, I have some advice; try to embrace every review you receive in your life. You may have to endure some criticisms that are inspired by misguided self-serving intentions, but if you find a knowledgeable ‘someone’ who is genuinely willing to tell you the truth, embrace them and keep them close, their advice is priceless.

So it’s back to the drawing board with Booker, huzzah.

Munk’s opening line,

This time, Wilshire was better prepared when his pants began to speak.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it.

Munk

Genre Bending

2010-03-05T17:15:00.000-08:00

What if every existing fiction genre just isn’t enough to describe your work? For those who have read “Booker”, help me decide where in the bookstore it should sit.

Is it…

…Young-Adult? I think so, for the mere fact that the main character is sixteen.

…Science Fiction or “Near” Science Fiction? Possibly, it’s got cool gadgets and weird science.

…Adventure? Definitely

…Horror? Scary… yes, Horror… not so much, but it does have the gross-out element.

…Thriller? Likely.

…Fantasy? No, but it edges toward the fantastic, I consider weird science fantastic.

…Steam Punk? No

…Cyberpunk? No, not really, but this is a tough one because it meets some of the agreed upon criteria. The younger characters definitely use intellect to their advantage and there is an evil corporate conglomerate.

…Macabre or Goth? Nah.

…Urban Fantasy? No, but possibly “Rural-Fantasy”… I bent this genre all by myself, but will anyone know what it means?

…Superhero Fiction? Perhaps, but I think it is more “super-ANTI-hero” fiction.

…Dystopian Society? Not really, but there is that one bit…

To make things even more difficult there are other characterizations to consider. Is the book, literary? Commercial? Plot driven? Character driven? And by the way, how would you describe the book’s voice?

The difficulty with having a book that covers so much ground is that it eliminates all of the agents and publishers who define themselves by what they are not rather than by what they are. Question... do I approach someone with Booker who says that they do not accept science fiction or fantasy, even if they accept adventure? To demonstrate let’s review a hypothetical discussion regarding what should be an easy definition, the definition of black coffee.

For your consideration:

Bob: “I like my coffee black”.

Betty: “Oh, I see, you don’t take cream and sugar”.

Bob: “Well, not exactly, I take sugar.”

Betty: “But, that’s not black… black coffee is any bold fine-ground dark-roast with no cream OR sugar. You know… something with a kick to it.”

Bob: “Look, it’s not the grind or the roast that matters, it’s only whether or not I take cream. Besides, light roast coffee has more caffeine kick than dark roast.”

Betty: “Really? There is more caffeine in light roast? I guess that makes sense…”

Okay, so my hypothetical coffee discussion is a bit of a stretch, but then you probably never lived with some of my old roommates. But back on point, if you see any truth in the coffee-gate conversation above imagine how difficult it becomes for Bob and Betty when discussing genres as they drink that coffee…

Bob: “I like science fiction.”

Betty: “Oh, I see, so you must enjoy Frank Herbert's Dune.”

Bob: “It was okay, but Dune is more “fantasy”; I like Michael Crichton.”

Betty: “Oh okay, so more like thrillers…”

Bob: "I like thrillers too, but that's not what I'm talking about..."

Yada yada yada…

Here is my attempt at characterizing Booker…

The Education of Booker T. Bakkus is a Young-Adult Weird-Science Rural-Fantasy Adventure.

Final note…If I had taken all of the above listed genre’s and characterizations into account prior to writing Booker’s story, frankly, Booker wouldn’t be the Booker he is today, and that, I submit, would be a shame. Trust me when I say that everyone… EVERYONE… has a bias and defines each genre and characteristic in a slightly different way. It is this that makes us human.

Munk’s opening line:

It was the part of town careful travelers avoid, but the trailer was nothing less than palatial.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it.

Munk

Monkeys Can’t Fly

2010-02-26T21:20:00.000-08:00

Monkey’s can’t fly and neither can you (at least with your arms using feathers and glue)

But don’ t be down trodden, don’t sink into blue, so much that you are, and so much that you do,

is bounded by precept and not really true.

My family is so cool.

Munk’s opening line…

You’ve got mail!

Monty breathed a slow incredulous curse as he guided his cursor over the message and clicked. His eyes widened and his head spun dizzily as he read the words, “Congratulations... Monty Mulligan, you are now a full-fledged master-level member of the Resolute Order of Luddites”.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it.

Munk

Isometrics

2010-02-20T07:39:00.000-08:00

Sometimes life is like isometrics. You stand next to an unmoving object and apply force. You exert energy. Nothing moves, except the blood in your veins, the air in your lungs and the thoughts in your head. You sweat. If you work hard enough, and long enough, your muscles ache and parts of you begin to shake. Like a sewing machine, they shake. Now things are moving, but not in the direction you are pushing. Like an electron in a resistor you release energy, you make heat – you vibrate. You are making waves. That’s all. Nothing of any substance has moved, but value has been created – you are stronger.

Munk's opening line:

After a time, Maggie had to admit that her feet had begun playing tricks on her.

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it.

Munk

For Every Pot, There's a Lid

2010-02-12T21:35:00.000-08:00

Everyone knows that Sunday is Oregon's birthday. But I am going to take this opportunity to blog about a lesser known holiday; one that coincidentally lands on the same day that the great state of Oregon joined the union. Forget the fact that as part of good-natured goodwill the mostly peace loving native Oregonians unwittingly signed over many of their rights to the pale newcomers… let's talk love. By the way, if you are curious as to what this holiday is, it is called Valentine’s Day, and I am sure the good people at Hallmark or FTD would be glad to instruct you as to the proper etiquette for celebrating.

Love is a many splintered thing. It seems to exist everywhere, and everyone has an idea of what it means, but describing it is a painfully difficult task. All of the usual descriptors often come off sounding trite and bland in comparison to the real feeling. So writers, musicians and poets use metaphors, analogies and anecdotes to display their relationship with love... here are some... he is the peanut butter to my jelly, my heart leapt right off of my sleeve, or… the emotion swept across her body like the migration of crabs over Christmas Island. Marvelous no?

The truth is, I truly love the "my heart leapt right off of my sleeve..." phrase. It was penned by a friend of mine, ToMas, and has lived in my heart for well over twenty years. If memory serves the extended passage read, "My heart leapt right off of my sleeve... I have taken to wearing it there lately." I take full credit for the other two though, please accept my apologies.

Back on point, I love you Dawnelle.

-Munk

Munk’s opening line:

“Wayne wagged his brand new tail.”

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it.

Ultra Love

2010-02-07T08:57:00.000-08:00

It was a tough week. My mind is storming with thoughts on shortsighted corporate initiatives…. But in honor of Booker, Annabelle – and true love – I will not foist my sour grapes upon your fruit salad.

I've written a book, and by all accounts it’s a good one... no Pulitzer-prizer mind you; it won’t change the world, but it is a bucket-load of fun.

As I begin the second in the Booker series I am reminded that writing is not a solitary venture. I am blessed to have a cadre of enormously supportive family and friends. Tops down, side-to-side, they are the most bolstering of crowds, rock-like even... and honest to boot.

My most encouraging stat to date is the number of Lake Tahoe Middle School readers I have… I am not certain of the tally at the moment, but my ultra-cool niece (from here out let’s just call her my “ultra-niece”) is sharing the book amongst friends; and the reviews are very encouraging. As I mentioned, she is my ultra-niece so I am hoping the reviews aren’t simply trumped up by her friends in hopes of appealing to her ultra-ness. This, I doubt however, because she is SO ultra.

Encouraging is one thing, but what about critical reviews? To my delight many of my friends and family have attacked the book from several angles and have not shied from pointing out where improvements could be made. I love this. The book gets better with every pass. Thanks.

While I am on the subject of thanks, Dawnelle, Audrey and Jensen – thank you and forgive me – for I am not confident that I can express the depths of my gratitude without sounding trite… so I must simply say, from my heart… thank you… I love you, Munk.

Munk’s opening line:

“He was a dark and stormy monk – and he had lost his robe.”

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it.

Munk

Confidence

2010-01-30T09:10:00.000-08:00

Confidence is of the most attractive traits. One definition of confidence is the knowing of oneself and being comfortable with that knowledge. Many of my friends are confident in this way and I admire them. It is a genuine treat to be near someone who is at peace with who they are and not searching for validation. But with this definition comes a twist. Why do these people, whom I admire for their confidence, strive for more; look to do what hasn’t been done? By the above definition they must not be entirely confident, for why would they search for new challenges, strive for additional validation as it were? It must be that confidence itself requires validation. Confidence is not an absolute; it ebbs and flows, like truth, justice and peace.

Confidence is the application of valuable risk, without the fear of failure.

Munk’s opening line:

“I had walked past the abandoned quarry every day going on four years, never had I seen a vein of ore glowing so brightly.”

Munk's "Opening Line" is yours to keep, use it.

Munk

The Vacancy of Waiting

2010-01-23T22:04:00.000-08:00

I hate...

I hate waiting. I hate queues, I hate applying for anything and having to wait. The more I want whatever I'm waiting for, the worse it is.

I don't mind...

I don't mind physical labor regardless of its repetitive nature... I don't find it boring. On many levels I enjoy mowing the lawn, chopping wood, and sweeping. I can daydream and the job still gets done.

I like...

I like motion. I like activity - cause and effect - action and response. I like new music. I like the progression of history. I like my day job.

I love...

I love writing fiction. I control the motion. I set the pace. It's like sharing a daydream.

I hate waiting.

This week I've received no rejections. A positive sign you might say, but it is most likely due to my not sending many queries as of late. But be warned, I have another small batch of fledgling queries that I plan to kick out of the nest soon, don't be frightened if one crashes to the ground near you.

Some highlights:

I began sending "Booker" queries on Halloween 2009.

In December I received one request for a "partial". Meaning that an agent (or their assistant) found the query and Prologue interesting enough to request 50 pages.

I have received numerous rejections, including one intended for someone named Karla. Karla, if you are out there... I feel for you girl.

Today's opening line: "I am the metronome... well, not the whole metronome."
Munk's "opening line" is yours to keep, use it.

Munk

Reverence

2010-01-16T06:50:00.001-08:00

Breaking from this blog's long and storied irreverent traditions, today's entry is dedicated to my friend and neighbor, Cecil Barnett, who died this week.
Aside from simply being handed one of the coolest first names ever, Cecil excelled at life. His mind was sharp as a tack before suffering the massive stroke that sent him heavenward early Wednesday morning. Yep - Wednesday - just another day for most of us, a miniscule valley in the vast continuum of time. The day will deservedly be remembered by the world community as the day Haiti was crushed by a devastating earthquake, but Maxine Barnett will remember it as the last day she shared with her life-partner.

Of note: Maxine turns 80 in March, and once estimated our prevailing mid-summer coastal breeze as sustaining sufficient power to 'blow-the potato-salad-clean-off-a-plate'. She will miss Cecil. So will I.

Cecil shared his late-life eloquence with a loud and confident voice. Whether he was cheerfully describing the behavior of his annoying lap dog, Barney, or the annoying behavior of his most recent rash - Cecil was clear spoken and as loud as a bucket full of gravel. He spoke loud because he couldn't hear so well. He suffered his hearing loss on the beaches of Italy in WWII. It was there that he also lost most of the use of his legs. He spent a great deal of his life on crutches which eventually wrecked his shoulders. His "crutches strategy" may have been aimed at reducing the number of pitiful looks he received way-back-when, when having physical limitations was strikingly more isolating than today. I tend to believe that Cecil used crutches because of his drive to be productive, to be engaged, and not burden those around him. How difficult it must have been for him later in life to live through the irony of being wheelchair bound without full use of his shoulders, but if it was difficult, you'd never know it. I never heard the man complain... except perhaps about his rash.

Cecil has left a great impression on this world. Regardless of your political, social, or theological bent, please give Cecil and those like him a nod of thanks. Not for serving in the military or being a loving husband and father - all worthy efforts mind you - but for simply being dealt a damn dirty hand of cards and then laughing at the dealer while playing them like a royal flush.

Munk

How long did it take?

2010-01-09T23:34:00.000-08:00

The first draft of The Education of Booker T.Bakkus took me ~sixteen months to complete. I wrote mainly on weekends and on the occasional vacation day. Once the first draft was complete and reviewed by eleven brave souls - to whom I am forever indebted - revisions took an additional two months. The manuscript has been modified only slightly since October of 2009.
I am currently shopping the book to literary agents. I consider this the 'conventional' approach to selling a story and one my wife and I will continue to pursue until at least August 2010.

And... just for fun... in addition to submitting my self-serving weekly "Booker Blog" above, I plan to finish each of my postings with an opening line, it is yours to keep. Today's opening...
Missy’s new blender caused quite a stir among the other squirrels on the block.
Munk's opening line is yours to keep, use it.

Munk