All right, this kid is a spoiled brat. I never once had a reaction like this at Christmas–my parents would never have allowed me to spit in the faces of their presents. But also, this kid’s attitude toward books makes me sad.
Besides, I keep begging everyone to give me books for Christmas, and no one listens!
Merry Christmas, Word Pirates.
Lots of writers are on Twitter. A good deal of them seem uncomfortable as they go through the motions of “social media” or so marketing-oriented that you kind of want to slap them. Margaret Atwood has found her own weird and totally awesome way to use Twitter. Her Twitter updates are genuine, personal … and often confusing. But some of her latest exploits on there are making me insanely happy (and a little jealous).
One Twitter user recommended Atwood’s books to a friend. Atwood replied with a “thank you,” which would be the end of it for most people. Well, you can see the whole exchange here … but it ended with Atwood designing superhero costumes for the person who recommended the books and her friend. What? That is the best in the world! You say you like some books and then the author draws special superhero costumes for you. That is the BEST.
Here’s one of them:
Want some advice from Ford Madox Ford on how to tell if your novel (or any novel, really) is any good? “Open the book to page 99 and read, and the quality of the whole will be revealed to you,” he said. It may sound arbitrary. But if you think about it, page 99 is far enough in that you should have already established your characters and setting … so whatever is on that page is representative of the tone and heart of the book. It would be in full swing by that point but not far enough along to be mired in who did what or how this ties to that. (Although you could chose page 87 or 102 for the same purpose.)
A new site called Page 99 Test is taking that advice seriously and will soon allow people to upload page 99 of their novels for criticism from internet people.
Why you should never date a writer by a grammar. The myths of dating a writer, and the reality. Example:
Writers will offer you an interesting perspective on things. Yes. Constantly. While you’re trying to watch TV or take a shower. You will have to listen to observations all day long, in addition to being asked to read the observations we wrote about when you were at work and unavailable for bothering. It will be almost as annoying as dating a stand-up comedian, except if you don’t find these observations scintillating we will think you’re dumb, instead of uptight.
and:
Writers can think through their feelings. So don’t start an argument unless you’re ready for a very, very lengthy explication of our position, our feelings about your position, and what scenes from our recent fiction the whole thing is reminding us of.
and:
Writers are surrounded by interesting people. Every last one of whom is imaginary.
It’s funny ’cause it’s true. (Via Bookslut)
Put a book on your wall! Postertext prints every single word of (some classic) books on a poster, along with a cutout of an image related to the book. The one above is Ulysses. Cool!
The History Channel says it is. They scanned a death mask found in Germany with 3D computer technology and came up with this image.
Of course, according to this article, no one knows if the death mask that the image is based on is really Shakespeare or not, so this could just be some dude.
If it is him, scientists “say it proves the writer suffered from cancer towards the end of his life.”
Here is a real image of Shakespeare:
“I Write Like” is a fun site where you paste in some of your writing, it does some sort of comparison against a database of famous writers, and tells you who you write like. I can’t tell what it’s looking for … and it doesn’t seem very accurate. (For instance, it told Margaret Atwood she writes like Stephen King.) But it sure is entertaining.
I went a little nutso with it and put in several different types of my writing. What I got back:
My essay writing is like … Chuck Palahniuk
My fiction writing is like … Stephen King
My correspondence is like … Stephen King
My blog post writing is like … Kurt Vonnegut
Conclusion: Stephen King is an awesome writer? Margaret Atwood and I write a lot a like?
Note: I got all meta and put this post in (every part of it before “Note”) and got Vonnegut again. So perhaps while I am inconsistent in my writing tone and style overall, my blogging is distinctly Vonnegutesque. Vonnegutian?
When you think of Ernest Hemingway, what comes to mind? Did you say shoes? If so, then you and his son Patrick have a lot in common. He’s working with an Oregon shoe company on a line of Ernest Hemingway shoes. Because, you know, Hemingway loved shoes.
“Hemingway was very fond of loafers,” Patrick said. … “I love that you can wear these without socks. I hate socks. Hemingway hated socks, too.”
Some sons publish their dead fathers’ unfinished work, while others put their dead father’s name on a line of El Salvadorian leather shoes divided into the angler, literary, and sportsman collections.
I am imagining pretentious college students backpacking through Europe hoping to fish and run with the bulls while wearing expensive literary loafers. As a woman, there is no footwear for me in the Hemingway line.
I’m more excited about the literary puns than the manly shoes. My favorites so far:
For Whom The Gel Soles and Movable Feets (from @DRUNKHULK)
Shoe at First Light and the Snowshoes of Kilimanjaro (not as clever, sadly from me …)
Side note: He calls his father Hemingway? Is that because he’s being quoted?
