Yeah, right H. P. LOVECRAFT

If FACEBOOK is good for anything and frankly it isn't good for anything, you find these little tests to compare yourself to whomever and whoever and sometime whatever.

The most recent is for writers to enter the texts, a few paragraphs, and the magical analyzer will tell you who write like.

I did it twice.

I took a satirical piece I wrote fifteen years ago; one that is finally being published and only being published now because I couldn't find a satirical magazine to send it to. ANYWAY, on that piece I was told I write like COREY DOCTOROW.

I then took an article I had just written and just had accepted. Not a piece of fiction, but a straight article. 'I write like' H. P. LOVECRAFT.

Yeah. I know I am good, but that good?

Well a foreign critic in a seminar discussion once made the parallel to all of us horror writers as bands. In that comparison he said that while the rest are playing rock n' roll, some better than others, my stories were different and compared me to PINK FLOYD.

Yeah...right.

Are We Becoming Obsolete In Our Time?

For the most part it seems that, as far as platforms are concerned, that websites were replaced by Facebook and blogs have been replaced by Twitter. Just recently I was invited to enter a contest where the story could only fit in a comment box.

While I am a great fan of brevity, my fear is that we have fallen out of love with the written word. That the emotions we seek to evoke will become as impersonal as a post it note.

While it is true that the art of writing lies in finding the right word, that simple word shouldn't shield the reader from the greater, broader experience.

If we continue in this trend a symbol will someday replace language. If you think I am crazy just look at signs on your local road.

Words shouldn't be spared but embraced; but embraced in a natural flow and rhythm that can only evoke emotion in the reader be it love, hate and/or comfort.

From Harper' Weekly June 16, 1877 Fly Sweet Angel of Death Fly.....

Found this on Facebook. Amazing piece of art.

My Manifesto Going Forward And A Change Of Direction

I posted this on Facebook this morning to the two or three people who actually might care:

"Well it looks like anthology entrant has bit the dust. What looked like to be a break out year I have lost eight anthologies between November 2013 and now because either publishers have gone belly up or have just given up on the project because they been distracted by another shinier new penny. Since this was the last of my stories sitting and rotting for the better part of the year I have definitely learned my lesson. As I have told a number of good people I am changing the way I do things. I understand the problems publishers have in this present business climate; but I also understand that I am not chasing they way I did and will spend more time building up my catalogue again of available tales and will only do business with people I trust rather than what appears on its face via submission sites to be a good fit."

Good things have happened but great things have been stalled. So few anthologies and publishers thereof are trustworthy these days. Within the last year, as I have stated, we have seen the growing trend of 'a friends only anthology' as well as 'token' anthologies where characters beliefs, race, religion and sexual preference are mandated.

These have added to the erosion started by the unprofessional who for some money given them by the parents, grandparents or a doting aunt or uncle can set up publishing companies with no clue.

Writing should stand the test of time and that means beyond the shelf life of the next book and until publishers take that to heart they will continue to fly into the proverbial glue strip hanging under the naked light bulb of history to be forgotten.

A Lack of Professionalism of One Genre Against Another

This morning I awoke to find my email littered with a rant. No, not necessarily a rant but a pathetic plea and cry for help with all the subtlety of an ACT-UP demonstrator. During this morning's witching hour a fellow writer attempted his imitation of a third rate elementary school bully by spewing garbage, or as the kids call it --- talking trash; insulting all of us involved in a charitable endeavor.

I mention it because it is another in a long line of similar crap spewed by Bizarro writers against those who write horror and those who write fantasy.

On his own Facebook page, before launching his dingy filled Normandy invasion, this individual announced his plan to 'shake things up'; the same buzz phrase I have seen over and over from others of his ilk. For a few of his ilk this 'performance art' is how they promote themselves.

In the end a friend of his writes that essentially he is making himself look 'stupid'. And that guy was right.

I mention this because, again, this isn't the first time and I am sure not the last. I don't understand the attacks other than like all bullies the insecurity is so deep they lash out. But while I can deduce a reason, I make no excuses for that. In my day we handled bullies in the school yard. In my day, they were taught a lesson.

Since we are not allowed to do that today all I can say is this is a married man and if this is his level of maturity, well it is amazing he found a wife.

And while I don't blame all Bizarro writers for the actions of a few, perhaps those who publish in that genre should take a close look at those who represent their banner.

We are supposed to be professionals here.

No Face Time for Face Book

We do have a Facebook page that mimics this page; and for those who have been asking we do not link because of the repetition. We also do not link because I'm usually a little late in seeing to the Facebook posts in favor of this blog.

If you are as tired as I am with tedious narcissism of Facebook?

For writers blogs and websites are still superior platforms to promote work. On Facebook you have swim through a lot of information you are polite to like but frankly don't care about.

Not all but a lot. 

Get Over It

This younger generation is amazing to me. And forgive me if I sound like my father. Someone posted on Facebook one of those 'clever' fake news stories claiming Stephen King purchased/posted a number of fake reviews to lift a doubtful book upon publication.

I stated in my comments that I didn't believe the story. After all King is an icon. Fan boys and girls, mostly horror writing hopefuls, would spend their mother's last nickel to purchase a fully stocked, flies included, manure bucket if Mr. King himself wrote the word 'manure' on it. In between fainting over the brilliance of the written word, these same followers would write 'clever' tomes extolling the bucket of manure's historical horror virtues. This is a given. So the story itself is clearly ridiculous.

What isn't ridiculous and what I commented on was the author/publisher practice of filing a flurry of fake reviews to bolster a questionable book; as well as some finagling of printing/sales
data to boost numbers on best seller lists. This IS and HAS ALWAYS BEEN found in literary circles for decades.

Of course I am attacked. Of course I missed the point. This is a genius fake story that is so funny H. L. Mencken himself can be heard belching in belly laughs from his own grave.

Well, the story itself is not funny. It's as funny as most bizarro literature. And clever? It's clever like two plus two equals four or is it seven now that we have Common Core?

I wish this generation specifically would actually experience the outside world and stop being reactionary and naïve. We don't live in a utopia. There is no such thing as an utopia. The world is a bad place. The world is a dangerous place. The world is deceitful.

Authors and publishers will do anything to promote a book and pad sales. Hype is promoting and is usually promoting something far from genuine. And if I say something about Stephen King that is negative, which I did not, I do have freedom of speech.

Well do I?

All my years, history backs me on this, to live in  a world believing everybody is nice, that no one lies, that is no one is bossy; and unfunny is funny will only leave that dreamer holding nothing but a bucket of manure.

Wake up.

Here is where Facebook doesn't work

When Scarlett River ceased to be the notification was placed on Facebook in August. In August where it never made my news feed and where I never received an email.

I have been writing the publisher since October to no avail and now, dear readers, as you can see the post I was only recently notified.

On August 12th we were relieved of our contracts. However today I am told those contracts were assigned to another publishing house. I wasn't given a name and I was told this morning someone would be getting back to me.

This is going to be interesting and worthy perhaps of a better tale for writers than the one I penned.

Faux Paus

Well I guess I am thrown out of another writers' group. This is getting to be a habit and yes, the common denominator is me.

Welcome to Facebook where people live out their fantasy lives in elaborate virtual games played along with family, friends and strangers from around the globe be it dating, farming, whatever. Welcome to Facebook where people can chart their travels and experiences right down to the second as they are sipping a beer in a dive right off the turnpike and close by. Welcome to Facebook where everyone is a success and life is happy. Welcome to Facebook the perpetual High School, family reunion...

And who gives a shit?

All I did was post a simple question. All I did in the spirit of community to writers and artists everywhere is ask what their favorite or most horrible rejection was and how that rejection was ultimately redeemed.

What is wrong with that?

I was looking for positive stories. I was looking for gold pulled out of shit. I was looking for editors who have blown it. The history of literature is chock full of famous cases, so why not add to it and join the illustrious ranks of the famous just before they became famous.

What did I get in return?

Cue crickets. Yeah, crickets. No I lie, I received worse than crickets. I was responded to in silence.

I realize we are an insecure bunch. Otherwise why write? We feel we are important and our thoughts count. We are showmen, exhibitionists and 'bully pulpiteers''. We are walking genitals spewing out waste the bulk of the day; miserable most of the time until we see our name in print and after those few seconds of euphoria and orgasm pass we are back to being small and miserable again as we await the next great rub from a sympathetic editor.

I realize our most important work IS THE NEXT ONE and to admit to any failure received in private in a proud and creative brain is compounded by having to admit to the failure in full public view.

But isn't it better to share the hope? Isn't it better to feel some relief that we are not alone in our quests?

We talk a lot about supporting each other; about being a community and picking each other up when the other falls; so why can't we just be true and truly give guidance once in a while rather than just become a receptacle for applause.

I'm out. I get it but at least denial won't bite me in the butt someday. I can stand by my creations knowing others feel they should be in print for their audiences as well and not just for an audience of one.

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Under me, Joseph J. Patchen