Let the Self-Publishing Revolution Begin!

Today was a Monday but it wasn't so bad. I think having a three day weekend helped. My boss was back from his vacation which was not as much fun as not having him in the office but he still seemed to be in 'vacation mode' so it wasn't so bad.

It also wasn't so bad as far as workload and coworkers went. I've had far worse days, let's put it that way.

Also, a coworker sent me a link regarding getting my novel published on the iPad. I've been waiting for Apple to make that option available to first time writers so I was excited to see it was finally available.

Of course, this led to a trail of pages, some of which were blogs, some were informational, as to how hard it was to actually get your book on the iPad if you're self-published.

One of the the blogs had a rather rude and snotty comment from someone who said something along the lines of, "what's the point of self-publishing? It's only for losers who can't get their books published in any other way."

My first reaction was anger. Then it was calm. I understood his initial reaction. As I've said on here before, the problem with self-publishing is that there's a stigma associated with it. Back in the days before it became so easy, self-published authors did tend to be those who couldn't get their books published in the traditional way.

I resisted self-publishing because I didn't want to be one of those people who published their own book because no one else would.

But you know what happened? I wrote a book that I knew was good. It was a timely, comical book that in the era of Sookie Stackhouse and the Twilight franchise, the era of 'chick lit' and entertaining fiction, it should have been easy enough for someone to say, "I want to read that."

I followed the traditional path. I sent queries to agents. I got nice, kind rejections this time around. The writing was good and the story seemed fun but they just didn't think I would work for their agency.

Then I became annoyed. From their point of view, I get it: A new writer, no credits to her name, a story that could be amusing but could also suck when, right now, everyone's looking for the next JK Rowling, Stephanie Meyer or Stieg Larsson. They want their Harry Potter, their Twilight, the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.

Here's my take on that: The reason there are JK Rowlings and Steig Larssons in the world is because there weren't any already out there. Some one, somewhere thought: "Hey, this looks interesting, maybe I should give it a chance."

But there aren't many agents out there doing that any more. Most of the big publishing companies are 'eating' the smaller ones. There are fewer and fewer chances for writers to get their books published. The interesting thing is that most of the time, unless you get SUPER lucky, even if they decide to publish your book, you still have to do the publicity yourself.

Of course, you could hire a publicist. I mean, if you're paying an agent 10%, the publisher a huge chunk of royalties and possibly a manager to help you figure out what the heck you're doing, what's another big chunk of change to try to get people to read it.

Or, you could do what I and so many other writers have done. You publish it yourself. There are no upfront fees. I went through Createspace. I pay for the proof copies. When I sell a book, they take their fee from the sale price which I set. If I don't sell any, they don't make anything.

Today, I received payment from Amazon for sales on the Kindle over the past month. I make less than 50 cents per sale on this version since I sell it for only $1.99. I made enough for me to say, "whoa! And I haven't done any publicity for this yet!"

It may not be enough for me to quite my job and live but it's enough for me to feel like people are buying and reading my book. I've had enough 'fan' emails for me to blush and feel proud that I've written something that people enjoy.

So, aside from the fact that I didn't wait a couple of years to have an agent read my query, then request my manuscript, then request edits, then try to approach publishers and, if I'm lucky, find one for me, what's the difference between me and someone who went the traditional route?

Is it validation? It used to be that you weren't a writer until you had a product that made money. Just see the blog I once posted in response to such a statement by literary agent, Nathan Bransford.

Now, it seems, even if you make money, you're still not a writer unless someone spins their roulette wheel of 'Lucky New Writer" and decides it's worth taking a chance on you. And then, what happens? You get a book published and unless you're someone who can be a bestseller, you're relegated to the shadows where your book dies. If you are a bestseller, you sign a contract and you promise to deliver so many books in such a time frame. Then, in my opinion, you begin to go downhill. Some of the most promising new writers can't follow up on their original success. Those that do still end up going downhill. They're expected to deliver and they write furiously and fast, to earn their paycheck and give the publishers and not necessarily their readers, a finished book. Sure, Stephanie Meyer, you can deliver Breaking Dawn in less than a year but, uh, did you read it? Jane Green? Your original chick lit was almost deeper than the surrounding stuff but now you're becoming Nicholas Sparks for a new generation. Jennifer Weiner, watch out- you used to be very moving. Now you're becoming cliche. Stephen King...I feel bad chiding you because you're one of the greats but, well, when you announce that you're retiring, RETIRE. From a Buick 8, Cell and Duma Key are all horrible faded shadows of the great stories you used to tell.

I could go on but I won't. My point is this: All 'great' writers were once "new" writers. They were unpublished once. Nowadays, we have the tools to put our works out there and while I admit my novel isn't as polished as if I had someone from Harper Collins editing it, at least it's the book I wrote, not some watered down version of the story I wanted to tell.

I know, I know. Where's the validation if I had to do it all myself. My validation is in my sales. It's in the reviews I have on Amazon.com. It's in the emails I get from complete strangers who loved my book. It's not on the scale of a bestseller but, you know what? It feels like it.

I'd like to take this opportunity to encourage other writers out there who feel like their bashing their head against a glass ceiling to take charge of their own writing. If you feel like it's good, if people already love it, try it. Use Createspace. Use Lulu. If you're scared of the commitment of printing the book, put it on the Kindle, the iPad, the Nook if nothing else. It costs nothing. People WILL read your work.

It's my dream to start a revolution. The agents and publishers hold the reigns right now but they're losing their grip. We don't need them to slow down a process in which they're becoming a relic. While I love books as much as the next person, I love reading even more. Sure, a literary agent knows their way around the industry but the industry is changing. The power is coming back into the hands of the writer, the creator of the product that is fueling them. Sure it's nice to have an official label on your book that says, "Hey, someone made me pay them a lot of my earnings of this book to get me here," but we don't need it.

Ok, so I realize some books shouldn't be published because they're not ready. But, honestly, given some of the rubbish that's making it to library and bookstore shelves these days, what's the difference. Do we need any more vampire novels, really? Yet each week in Barnes and Noble, there seems to be more.

I want to tell other writers that just because you did it yourself, doesn't make it any less valuable. It took me a while to realize I could admit this but I am an author. I have an Amazon page to prove it. In 100 years, I'll still have a book, somewhere, out there, published and it's unlikely someone will stop to scoff, "wait, it's self published. It must be crap!"

I need to get my name out there. I know this. But it's happening slowly. I'm part of a revolution and I'm proud to admit it. Agents can open doors, publishers can help you walk through them but if you can create the building yourself with doors that you actually design, isn't that better?

I'm proud to have published my book. I'm proud to be selling it. I'll keep pushing it, hoping to get more readers. It's not about the money. It's about getting your story out there.

And my story is just getting started.

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Happy Tuesday.

Reading Recommendations...

I have a lot of friends that like to read. Since I also loves to read, this makes sense. We often befriend those that have things in common with us. It makes for a bonding experience, something shared.

I love that I have friends that love to read. It means at any given time, I can seek them out via email, on the phone or even in person and ask them what they’ve read lately that they’ve loved. It’s a great way of finding books to read without having to read reviews. What better way than to ask someone who has actually read a book and whose opinion you trust?

Of course, sometimes, you find you disagree with their taste. Hence the fact that I did read the Twilight saga without knowing the full-scale assault it was going to have on the literary world as well as the assault it was going to do on my poor brain as I tried to see what the fuss was about. As I’ve said, I’m backing off it now because there’s no point. Granted, I still dislike the books but, well, let’s just say that having good friends who really like the books and can argue their value in escapism (Thank you, Lady Aero), I will respect the fact that some people like them. I never will.

So, a wee bit tainted from being told that I’d love Twilight and not liking it at all, I was just a little hesitant when another good friend told me about two books I had to read in the same fictional series. The books were The Hunger Games and its sequel, Catching Fire, by Suzanne Collins.

I tried repeatedly to get the books from the library with no luck. It seems there are some teens out there reading other books betweens the Stephanie Meyer collection; I salute that. So, I ended up borrowing my friends copy. I started the books a little hesitantly: When anything comes that highly recommended, it’s always a little intimidating to start reading just in case you don’t like them.

The premise of the book is deceptively simple. It’s the future. The U.S. does not exist but has been divided into 12 Districts, each producing one essential item necessary to life. The districts are ruled from the Capitol, a city set in what used to be the Rocky Mountains and in which the people live luxuriously and excessively, ignorant of the plight of the people in the districts. The Capitol is strict and firm, allowing nothing that it does not approve. The people are oppressed because the Capitol does not want an uprising in the Districts and thus it rules with an iron fist. Every year, they stage The Hunger Games. A barbaric pastime in which children from age 12 to 18 are ‘reaped’- their names thrown into a giant lottery. From each district, a boy and girl is chosen annually from this lottery and must compete in the Games, a fight to the death in which only one victor will survive. The winner receives food and money for life.

The heroine of the tale is Katniss Everdeen, a tomboy who bears the weight of her family on her shoulders. Katniss hunts illegally in her district, trading in a black market to both survive and to get enough food to feed her family. When Katniss’ sister is reaped for the games, Katniss steps in and volunteers to take her place, placing her in a competition that makes her question everything she knows.

The thing about the The Hunger Games is it sounds like a familiar premise. When my friend described it to me, it reminded me of some Stephen King stories: The Long Walk and The Running Man. Yet there is nothing in The Hunger Games that is unoriginal. It is a well-written piece of young adult fiction that deserves as much, if not more, acclaim than the Twilight series.
For one thing, take Katniss Everdeen. She’s a girl who is plucky, smart and a survivor. Even though there’s a love triangle in The Hunger Games reminiscent of the Bella/Edward/Jacob mess in Meyer’s novels, never once do you question it. Katniss is the same age as Bella Swann yet because she’s faced hardship, she puts everything above love rather than making it the only thing worth living for. Katniss has two men in her life: Peeta, the male representative from their district in the Games. Peeta has loved Katniss for years. She’s wonderfully oblivious, believing his acclamations of love to be a strategy for winning the games even though it’s quite clear to the reader that he means them. Peeta is sweet, devoted, kind and nice. He wants nothing more than to see Katniss survive the games. Then there’s Gale: Katniss’ hunting partner from District 12. Never more than a friend, Katniss clearly feels more for him and as the books proceed, it is obvious Gale feels the same way. Gale is brooding, strong and opinionated. He’s a good match for Katniss as the two find a natural rhythm in just being together.

Yet, even with a love triangle, there is so much more to the books. The story is one of growing rebellion and questioning of authority. It is the movement from sad acceptance to awareness and action. The other characters are rich and defined. My favourite is probably Cinna, the stylist who takes on Katniss’ case for the games and turns her from a wild tomboy into a symbol of unity. He’s quietly rebellious in his own way without taking a more active role than helping Katniss discover who she is. One of the most disturbing things about the books is the dramatic and unpredictable ends that befall characters who lend their hearts and souls to Katniss' quest. Cinna is an example of that; for his rebellion, he is punished but the stories leave you wondering and desperately hoping that he's ok, even if he took a stand in a place where doing such a thing is forbidden.

Catching Fire is a disturbing book. It’s not full of sparkles and cottages in the woods, perfect honeymoons and disturbing birth-scenes. It’s dark and twisted and bad things happen to a lot of good people. It’s the type of sequel that climbs into your head and haunts your dreams because you can’t stop thinking about it, wondering what will happen and having your heart break just a little for some of the amazing characters who sacrifice themselves to try to save others.

I think it’s obvious I enjoyed these books. Thus, I am recommending them to anyone that challenged me to tell them what’s better than Twilight. These books are better. These are books in which something actually happens besides love but still allows love and feelings to be a huge part of the story. They’re books with characters that make me care without having to do much at all, although no one in these books is idle. The writing is good enough that you don’t even notice it as you’re turning the pages to see what happens.

The books are part of a bigger series. The next book isn’t out yet and I don’t know when it’s going to be. I do know that until it is, I have a feeling that Katniss and her world are going to pop into my mind quite a lot as I wonder what will happen to her, Peeta, Gale and the other characters in the story. What I don’t care about is if she ends up with either of the men and who it might be because that’s incidental. It’s a nice change of pace. If you're looking for something to read, I highly recommend it. And, even if you're not...I still recommend it.

Happy Tuesday!

Sookie Stackhouse: Now Those are REAL Vampires...

This week is going fast. I rarely say that but, for once, it's true. Maybe it's because I bought a house, maybe it's because it's busy at work suddenly but...whatever it is, it's already Wednesday and the week is almost half over.

Sometimes it seems like the week is going too fast, like I get home from work, work out, make dinner and it's almost time for bed. Of course, that may be because I'm having fun reading at the moment and I love to go to bed early and read until I'm ready for sleep. I think I mentioned that I'm working my way through the Sookie Stackhouse Southern Vampire series at the moment. I'm on book five already. They're so easy and fun to read, I'm having to pace myself. I feel like, suddenly, it's ok to like vampires again.

I've always liked vampires. I used to read this series when I was young called "The Little Vampire" by Angela Somer-Bodenburg. They were about a vampire child named Rudolph who was too young to drink human blood but was from a family of ancient vampires. He introduces his family to Tony, his new human friend and, naturally, adventures ensue. After that series came Dracula, naturally and then Anne Rice. I loved the first four books in the Vampire Chronicles. I read the ones that she wrote after those and with each one, the mysterious, romantic and erotic world she created began to suddenly be beyond ridiculous. Lestat lost his sexy bad-boy appeal and became almost as whiny as Louis, the narrator of Interview with a Vampire.

Then I stopped reading vampire books for a while. There was plenty of other fiction out there. Sure, I read Salem's Lot, Stephen King's rather creepy foray in the vampire genre. I played vampire video games with my brother, Dracula Unleashed being our favourite. Yet I stopped searching for vampire fiction.

Then, of course, came Twilight and it's subsequently and increasingly awful sequels. While I've blogged about the fact that, if I'd been a sixteen year old girl, I'd have probably liked the novels more, I'm not a sixteen year-old and thus I think the novels are pretty awful. I've blogged about the books already and why I think they're awful so I won't go into that again. Yet, I can safely say, now I'm reading Charlaine Harris' Sookie Stackhouse series, I can point my finger at Stephanie Meyer and say, "Lady, did you think of ANYTHING original?"

Sookie's been around a fair bit longer than Bella, the whinier, more helpless heroine of the Twilight series. She's a telepath whereas in Twilight, Edward Cullen is the telepath. Sookie doesn't have many friends because people are freaked out by her mind-reading ability. Bella doesn't have many friends because she's annoying and whiny and falls in love with a vampire because there's not much else to do in rainy Forks. Sookie's boss and sometimes-crush is her boss, Sam who happens to be a shapeshifter and proves himself a loyal friend to Sookie. Bella's friend, Jacob, is a loyal friend to Bella and also happens to be a werewolf. That is, to say, in the first three books, he's a werewolf. In Breaking Dawn, Stephanie Meyer decides he and his co-werewolves are now shapeshifters because, well, why not arbitrarily change a character at the last minute?

I could continue on. There are more than a few more similarities between the books. In the very first book of the Sookie series, Dead Until Dark, Sookie describes how the vampires skin seems to glow, how the vampires are all beautiful. It turns out that it makes it much easier to get human prey that way. Interestingly enough, in Twilight, the vampires are described as having glowy skin and are stunningly beautiful because, you know, it makes it easier to get prey that way. I'll give Meijer kudos for getting around that pesky traditional " the sun kills vampires" lore; in her books, the sun makes the vampires sparkle "like they've been dusted with diamonds" and that's why they have to stay out of it because otherwise humans would realize they were vampires.

I know that, really, much of Charlaine Harris' vampire/supernatural creature lore is not original. Vampires are cold because..they're dead. Werewolves run hotter than humans because...they're part wolf and plenty more. Yet Harris presents it in such a fun, matter-of-fact way that you can almost believe there are vampires, shapeshifters, werewolves and fairies hiding in the moss-dripping trees of the Louisiana Bayou.

The other thing about her books is that...they're sexy. I'm not faulting Stephanie Meyer for the fact that her books are rated PG that even the pillow-tearing, headboard-breaking 'sex scene' has all the sensuality of a Victorian teaparty. It's nice that she can give our over-sexed teenagers something to obsess over that isn't about sex but is about love.

Yet, I'm not a teenager and I quite like reading a good sex-scene and, let me tell you, Charlaine Harris is the queen of the good sex-scenes. I never much cared for Bill, Sookie's vampire boyfriend, because I thought him a wee bit drippy yet in bed, I quite liked Bill. Of course, then there's Eric. I had to turn the air conditioning on when I got to book four because, let me tell you, it might not be literature but it is fun. And really, really...uh....hot.

I realize my mother reads my blog. Fortunately, my mother doesn't seem to get shocked when I bring up sex as I do every so often. So I don't think she's going to say, "Captain Monkeypants, I raised you better than that!" Also, she and my dad watch True Blood, the HBO adaptation of the novels so she knows what they're about. I'm going to loan them to her, in fact.

So, anyway, I guess the purpose of today's blog is to recommend the Sookie books if you're into fun reads. I have to give credit to two friends (and loyal blog readers) who recommended I read them. You know who you are...and I thank you both, Mrs. Future Texan and Mrs. Likes-Twilight-a-Little-Too-Much-But-You're-Completely-Forgiven-For-Sending-Me-Your-Sookie-Stackhouse-Books.

Granted, the books aren't at the level of, say, Jane Austen but even she has been adapted to fit the modern world with Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. Is it too hard to imagine Mansfield Park Full of Vampires or Sense and Sensibility And Fangs? I, personally, don't think so. Also, I think that would be intriguing. Probably horribly wrong...but intriguing.

Happy Wednesday.

The Vampire Trend

It is a nasty, damp, steamy day out there. We had thunderstorms last night, not the air-clearing kind but the clinging kind that come in, rumble, rain and then evaporate, leaving the air heavier and stickier than ever.

It's grey and gloomy and feels like a 'stay in bed' type of morning. Unfortunately, I have work commitments and I had to rouse myself. I also had to rouse Sausage who does NOT like to get out of bed until he's ready. He growls gently at me when I make him get up. It makes me laugh. I don't think he means to be funny.

Things are going a little better with the dog. I think he only barks a little in the crate and settles down to sleep after he realizes he's in there for a while. At least, this is what I've convinced myself. There's less guilt involved in that. Doggie day care didn't work out. For one thing, they never called me back and, for another, I realized they'd need proof that Sausage had his vaccinations as a puppy and, naturally, I don't have that proof.

So, it's just me and Sausage for a few more days. We have a routine now, at least I think we do. I get home from work and we walk. He hates walking because he's a lazy dachshund. Once he's done his business, he doesn't see the point of walking anymore. I think exercise is good for him. In disagreement, there will be times during our walks in which he will sit himself down on the grass and refuse to move. Then, when I make him get up, he gives me disgusted looks and trots along until he decides to sit down again. Like I said, we have a routine.

Of course, having a routine with Sausage means my regular routine is a little off-kilter. I haven't been able to write in a while because of house-buying, Washington D.C.-visiting, Sausage-sitting and various other interruptions. Of course, I do recognize the fact that I could still find time to write but...I'm not. I hate that I'm not. I hate that the past few years have spurned a flurry of books from me and this past year has been very thin on the writing front. I love to write. I want to write. It's just been a bad year as far as getting anywhere with my writing. I can blame the economy a little for that. I can also blame my writing for that. I'm writing what I want, not what's popular.

At the moment, I should be writing vampire novels, it seems. That's the trend. People give credit to Twilight and Stephanie Meyer's other vampire books. I don't. Vampires weren't invented by Meyer, they were just Victorian-ized, stripped of their natural eroticism and made sparkley. I'm reading Charlaine Harris' Sookie Stackhouse books at the moment and enjoying them immensely. Now these books are what vampire books should be: Sexy, funny, witty and clever. While I know the actual writing in them isn't perfect, the beauty of Harris' books is that I don't care. I'm so taken in by the story and the characters that I forget to notice the writing. To me, that's the mark of a good writer, not necessarily the structure, the words, the grammar and the formal side of the craft.

What I love about Charlaine Harris' books is that she has fun writing them. You can jump right into the story and when you're reading them, it seems perfectly natural that vampires have come out of the coffin and are fighting for equal rights in society, that shapeshifters are lurking in the shadows, trying to hide what they really are by keeping a human form, that mythical creatures lurk in the woods. I enjoy reading about Sookie because she acts like a real human; yes, she makes some unwise choices because she's a little naive but...I find it perfectly believable that she would fall in love with a vampire. I also rather like that though she loves the Vampire Bill, she's still horribly disgusted with the more bloodthirsty vamps and the fact that they're actually...you know...dead. She's also declared that she adores sunshine and has no intention of becoming a vampire. I love her for this. Unlike, say, Bella Swann from the Twilight novels who fell for a vampire, is enamored with their beauty and was already begging to be turned into a vamp at the end of the first novel. Sookie also can take care of herself or, at least, thinks she can and tries admirably. She doesn't always needs to be rescued. I like that in a heroine.

Anyway, these are only two of the vampire series flooding the market. In the teen market, in particular, there are multiple other series or stand-alone books on the Barnes and Noble display tables. Next season on TV, a series called The Vampire Diaries is being filmed for the CW network. Now there's talk about a remake of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer movie. If you've seen the first movie, you'll know it was awful. It was bad. It was campy crap that only has significance because it was the springboard for the brilliant TV series by Joss Whedon.

Of course, Joss isn't going to be involved in the movie. From what I'm reading, he wasn't asked and the studio responsible for the stupid idea is hoping to jump on the vampire band wagon. Also, knowing what I know about Joss, he probably said, "what a dumb idea," shrugged, and continued filming Cabin in the Woods or whatever is the name of his new movie. You see, Joss probably knows what all we Buffy fans know. Buffy was only Buffy because of Joss. Take the Whedon out the equation and essentially what you have is...the original Buffy the Vampire Slayer movie with Donald Sutherland, Luke Perry and Kristy Swanson which...sucked. Joss wrote the script for that movie and was essentially taken out of the equation because the studio so heavily rewrote his script. When the movie bombed, Joss took his idea and made the series which, to me, is still some of the best television ever created.

I know I won't be going to see that movie. What's the point? I've lived in Buffy's world and it's in Sunnydale, California which, blew up at the end of the series. Buffy and the slayers are all around the world these days. That's the Buffy I know. It'd be a little like going to see a remake of Star Wars in which Luke Skywalker was allowed to exist but there could be no Han Solo, Princess Leia or Darth Vadar because the studio didn't have the rights to the characters. Dumb, right?

I could rant all day about this but it won't do any good. Movie studios are greedy. They've long forgotten to make movies for the filmgoers, concentrating instead of the cheapest way to make a lot of money. Fortunately, there are talents like Joss Whedon out there to give us what we really need: Good entertainment that actually makes us think a little at the same time we're laughing.

I've digressed from my original point which is why I stopped writing for a while. I want to wait and see when the wheel of trends turns, what will be next. We've had pirates, wizards and dragons recently...I'm curious to see what's next to be in vogue. Then again, if I get my act together, maybe I can try creating something original that sparks a million other ideas.

You just never know.

Happy Wednesday

I'm an Adult and I Blame the Jonas Brothers

So, last night as I'm watching TV, getting ready for Grey's Anatomy, it occurred to me that I'm getting old. It was one of those horrible, sudden realizations that stops you cold for just a second. Ok, so I am approaching my mid-thirties and it's not that old but you have to understand, until recently, I still sort of counted myself on the side of the young 'uns and not of the grown-ups.

I think it's time to admit I'm a grown-up, an adult. Eek. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I've been living like a kid. My bed is a grown up bed, not some princessy, curtain-draped wonder. I cook. I clean. I even occasionally do my own laundry. I act like an adult, I've just never really felt like one.

You might wonder what spurned this revelation. Well, in all honesty, it was those blasted Jonas Brothers. You have to be somewhat familiar with them. They're the hot teen band; you cannot go into Walmart without seeing their stuff displayed by the Hannah Montana merchandise. I think there are three of them, they're Disneyfied boys, prettied up to get the girls screaming and they play that bubblegum rock that makes your teeth feel like it's going to fall out of your head with the sweet teen-ness of it all.

Last night I saw a preview for their movie or whatever it is they're promoting and I thought to myself, "what funny looking little boys" and then it hit me, I called them little boys. My mind flickered to the audience for whom they exist and I realized that I had no connection to this generation, that it had moved on and so had I.

I think this is the first generation with which this has happened. I try to stay pretty current in my music tastes. I'm a die-hard Green Day fan, I love Linkin Park, I love My Chemical Romance, I like some of the songs they used in the Twilight movie. (I'm sad to admit that Stephanie Meyer and I do have similar taste in music and when she lists the songs that on her writing playlist, they're usually very similar to mine). I'm always worried that I'll seem like an old person trying to be young but, in truth, I really don't care. I've always loved music and that will most likely never change.

I will say that even when I was a teen, it's doubtful I would have liked the Jonas Brothers. With my generation, it was New Kids on the Block or, as they're so fondly known, NKOTB. I despised them in high school. I was annoyed at their popiness, their irritating sickly ballads, their clean-cut looks and their horrible choreographed dancing. I was into the hard rock stuff, Bon Jovi, Skid Row, Def Leppard, Cinderella. Well, that was until I suddenly started listening to showtunes and I became a complete an utter nerd but I've already told you about that.

Yet even though I didn't care for NKOTB, I cared enough to tease my friends who did and, deep down, understood why they liked them...yet it still wasn't for me.

With the Jonas Brothers, I realized I didn't even care enough to mock them. They exist but they have nothing to do with me. I wouldn't know if I heard them on the radio, all I'd know is that I was on the wrong station and scan for another one. Even with the craze before that, High School Musical (HSM), I had seen the first stupid movie. It was when I lived alone in L.A. and I had a free preview weekend of the Disney Channel (I only ever had basic, basic, BASIC cable- local channels only with a few odd extras). I thought it looked interesting when they previewed the first HSM. I still like a good musical and I thought "That looked cute."

Bad idea. I thought it was awful. It was a shiny-happy version of high school and not one that I remembered. I knew it was Disney but wow, was it Disney, the dimples, the shiny hair, the happy ending...give me that in a cartoon form, change the characters into monkeys or something and I might like it but not with those insipid kids with their flat-ironed hair and trained-from-birth singing voices.

Yet, you'll notice, I still cared enough to pick on it, to make fun of it. I would never mock the fans of it unless they were over the age of 16 but you get the point, right?

Those Jonas Brothers are just a sign of the times. They're a safe transition from pre-teen to teenagerness. Yet, to me, they're just there. I don't even groan when I see their posters the way I do with the two leads from Twilight because the kids like The Jonas Brothers and let 'em have their music.

(Of course, the Twilight thing might be because every picture I see of Rob Pattinson and Kristen Stewart looks like they've been smoking something they shouldn't have. Seriously, want a visual picture of 'stoned', look at the latest cover of Entertainment Weekly.)

I digress. Again. Anyway, back to the Jonas Brothers. They make me feel old. I do still remember the butterflies that a pre-teen crush can bring.*

(*side note: I already confessed I used to love George Michael. Today, a remake of "Careless Whisper" was on the radio and I still know every word without thinking. Bizarre.)

Yet I don't get the fuss about the Jonas Brothers and I don't care. The kids like 'em. That's all that matters. And by saying 'the kids' I'm separating myself off as an adult.

I suppose it had to happen sometime, I had to come out of the closet and admit I was a grown-up, no matter how many times I watch or read Harry Potter but I just didn't expect it to happen so suddenly and without my knowing it was going to happen.

I suppose it had to happen sometime, right?

Have a great weekend.

Stephen King vs. Stephanie Meyer

So, yesterday, there was a slightly 'big' controversy in the writing world. I say 'big' because depending on how much you care about either author involved, it may have slipped by unnoticed. However, if you're like me and you like to read, there's very little chance you haven't heard of either Stephen King or Stephanie Meyer.

Now, for those of you new to my blog, it's no secret that I dislike the writings of Stephanie Meyer immensely. Ok, so dislike might not be a strong enough word based on what I've written in the past. I think it's pretty obvious that I think the Twilight books are badly written rip-offs of much better author's works. I've been nice in giving Meyer respect for at least getting young people to read. Although now I might have to amend even that nicety a little because, frankly, the obsessee's of Twilight aren't exactly going out to the library or Borders and looking for other books. They're just rereading all of Meyers' books over and over again. There comes a point where that stops being reading and just starts being scary.

In case you haven't heard of Stephanie Meyer, the Twilight series is a four-part series of novels about a perfect boy who turns out to be a vampire and a very normal girl who inexplicably becomes the desire of the vampire. The series encompasses themes such as being so in love, you're willing to kill yourself because your love left you. Also, a theme that love conquers all, especially life because Bella, the heroine, spends three and a half books pining for Edward, our hero, to kill her so she can join him in eternity. She's seventeen. She has a loving family. Yet she still wants to turn herself into a bloodsucking beauty just so she can stay with Edward. Then she eventually marries the vampire, has his baby in an extremely gruesome manner and gets turned into a vampire because it was the only way to save her life. Oh, also, Bella's best friend (who started out as a werewolf but then became a Shapeshifter because Meyer couldn't make up her mind) is in love with Bella so there's a love triangle going on. Except when Bella and Edward's baby is born, the terribly-named Renesme, Jacob falls in love with baby because that's what shapeshifters/werewolves do- they imprint on a person, no matter how old, and mate for life.

Ok, so that might be a teensy bit editorialized but, I promise, the plotlines in the paragraph above are all true. Every last one of them.

Anyway, so that's a little about Ms. Meyer. Now, about Stephen King. Yesterday, a quote was published from him regarding Stephanie Meyer for an interview he did with USA Today:

"The real difference is that Jo Rowling is a terrific writer and Stephenie Meyer can't write worth a darn," he said. "She's not very good."

Naturally, Meyer fans are in an uproar. The mud is flying, people are accusing Stephen King of being the pot to Meyers' kettle, i.e he can't write either.

I beg to differ. Ok, so Stephen King's books of late haven't been particularly gripping. Ok, so he said he was going to retire a couple of times but...hasn't. And yes, his earlier books were WAY better than his later ones (which may or may not have been linked to his alcohol/substance abuse problems from back in the day.) I'm not saying that he was a better writer when he was drunk or high but....well....those books were better. However, Stephen King has some amazing credits to his name. He can also write and he can write well.

Personally, I can't even fathom how people can even dare say that King can't write any better than Meyer. To say so is almost a crime. Whether you like horror or fantasy or not, doesn't mean that Stephen King can't spin an amazing tale. When he wants to, King's writing can be beautiful and poetic. His characters are three dimensional and compelling. He can make you laugh with a simple phrase such as "he stared at him as though he'd just suggested he use the Arc of the Covenant as a pay toilet". That may be slightly misquoted but it's one of my all time favourite literary quotes. I think it might be from It but I actually don't know. All I know is that it stuck with me.

I'm not saying that Stephen King is perfect. After all, my mother, who used to read his books and enjoy them can no longer read his works because he was arrogant enough to write himself into the last of his Dark Tower series. I admit, this was a gutsy move. I actually didn't mind that at all, I had more of an issue with the syrupy, sugary ending he gave his Susannah character. With that, he let me down, proving that even the toughest, most brutal writers can give in to sentiment. Stephen King: if you're going to kill two of my favourite characters from the Dark Tower books, do not DARE to try to bring them back for a happy ending. I mourned them both and was ok with that. Bringing them back was cheating and it should never have happened.

Yet if you look at Stephen King's record vs. Stephanie Meyer, I don't think anyone can question the fact that King is the much better of the two authors. For one thing, have you looked at his sales figures? Secondly, have you read his books? My favourite is still Black House which was a joint effort with Peter Straub but, as a King fan, I can see his writing and his influence on the book and it's brilliant. The Waste Lands, the third of the Dark Tower series, is one of the best fantasy books ever written, in my opinion.

Yet it's not a question of who's the better writer. That's obvious. Also, I think King was absolutely right to declare J.K. Rowling a far superior writer to Meyer because she is. I am sick to death of the Twilight vs. Harry Potter debate. It's like comparing Star Wars to Starship Troopers. They might both be entertaining but one is a cinematic classic...the other is a piece of crap that might entertain but at the end of the day, has giant bugs and some terrible acting.

I suppose I'm just happy that, once again, Stephen King has seconded an opinion I've had for a while. He did that with Dan Brown's DaVinci Code, calling it a piece of "dreck". I'd been calling it that for ages. It's nice to have someone who usually writes rather well not afraid to say what he thinks instead of patting Stephanie Meyer on the head and saying "good girl" instead of saying "you're a bad writer who ripped off Anne Rice."

And, as a writer, it's also nice to feel validated. I used to wonder how Stephanie Meyer got past the rejection letters since her writing is so....mediocre. Then I found out a friend of her's was a writer and hooked her up with an agent. Some of us aren't that lucky. We keep writing and our writing improves but we have no published friends.

Yet at least there are published authors like Stephen King to stand up for good writing until we can get our start. And, for that, I say thank you, Mr. King. I'll even consider reading some of your newer books again.

Happy Thursday.

Tuesday Rant: Why I Hate Fanfiction

It's Tuesday. I'm giving up believing in weather forecasters. Part of me thinks we were more accurate before the days of Doppler 55,000 or whatever it is these days. Back in the days where shepherds used to tell the weather from the sunsets, when people relied on their bones to tell 'em it was going to rain....what's the difference really? Those shepherds probably got the weather right as often as the modern weatherforecasters. This morning, we were supposed to get an inch of snow. It's raining. Yes, I know that meteorologists can't tell the future but....you'd think they'd be a little more accurate once in a while.

Anyway, today feels like one of those days where I need a good rant to get me kickstarted since it's a soggy Tuesday morning, it's not light outside yet and my brain is still waking up. So, lucky readers, todays rant is all about Fan Fiction.

Are you familiar with fan fiction? I wasn't really until recently. It's one of those things I knew existed but I had no interest in it so I ignored it completely. Lately though, it's been crossing my path as I surf the web and I finally decided to figure out what it was all about.

Frankly, I'm slightly appalled at the amount of it out there. In short, fan fiction is written about already existing characters usually from TV shows, books, even theatre. It can be innocent fiction that basically fulfills someone's fantasies, allows unsuccessful writers to change their shows/books/movies/theatre storylines in the way THEY would do if THEY wrote for TV or it fulfills some rather twisted fantasies on the part of the writer.

I'm sure there's more to it than that. What I have figured out is that fanfiction writers have to honour the canon of the original material; they can't change what's happened already on the show, in the book, in the movie, or whatever. They can't change the personalities of the characters they write about just to suit their needs. They have to respect the parameters of the worlds that the real writers who created them have set up.

Some of it is fairly silly. Some fanfiction writers focus on what is called 'shipping. That is to say they take an existing romance on a tv show and write about those two characters. They also take two opposite sex characters who are not romantically involved and write romance between them. There's also alternate universe in which they find ways to change the history of the tv show/book or whatever and write a different version of events.

The one that disturbs me a little is slash fiction. I had no idea what this was until I looked it up on Wikipedia. This particular brand of fan fiction takes two same-sex characters and gets them romantically or sexually involved, regardless of whether they're gay or not. Usually, they're not. The more I read about it, the more disturbed I got. One of the most popular themes is Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Seriously, what is wrong with these people? Harry Potter started as a children's book. Yes, it got darker as the series progressed but it was still aimed at children. Nowhere in the book is there any scene with Harry and Draco having a romantic or sexual moment.

Here's the part where I give the obligatory "I'm not homophobic" explanation. I'm not. We can't help who we love and are attracted to. We can fight it but, ultimately, it's in our genetic makeup to be sexually attracted to someone, whether the same sex or the opposite one. I know that being gay is a lifestyle and all but in my mind, it still boils down to who's in your bed at the end of the day. I'm British with stereotypical reserve: Whatever someone does is up to them but don't make a fuss about it. It doesn't bother me who the heck someone sleeps with. I've never understood the need for gay people to "confess" or "come out". It's not like I'm running around saying "I'M STRAIGHT! I ADMIT IT!" It should just be something we are. Yes, I'm an idealist. Knowing is half the battle as my character, John King, would quote.

Anyway, enough of that. What I'm trying to say is that if J.K. Rowling had made Draco and Harry a couple, it would be different. It would definitely be a different sort of book but given J.K's genius, it would still be very readible, I'm sure. But she didn't. She wrote a book about a boy wizard who grows up, vanquishes the evil villain and falls in love with Ginny Weasley. There's plenty of fan fiction about Ginny and Harry too, by the way.

It's the same with TV shows. I love Grey's Anatomy even if I think it's on crack at the moment. But Meredith and Christina are NOT a couple. They are friends. Derek and Mark Sloan are also JUST friends.

You can tell, slash fiction bothers me. I think of it as a form of porn. I actually have no problem with porn, as it happens. It fills a need, some people consider it art. It's there if you want it.

Which makes me question why I'm so bothered by slash fiction. It's probably because it's out there for anyone to see. They do have a rating system so readers can make sure it's suitable. Yet it's out there. The best reason I can come up with is that becasue I am a writer. I find it offensive. I have a series of books, as I've mentioned, that have three teenage boys who are good friends. I know if it were ever to get published and get popular, slash fiction would be born and I'd be horrified. Those are MY characters- get your nasty fanfiction hands off them.

Yes, I'm a selfish writer. I have a moral beef with stealing other people's ideas. It's the same reason I refuse to read "sequels" to books like Pride and Prejudice or Gone with the Wind. Unless a sequel is written by the originating author, it's not really a sequel. It's fan fiction, regardless of the cover price, publisher or level of prestige that goes with it. There is NO way to know what a deceased author would have written about their character in a sequel and so it's not fair for another writer to assume they do.

I apply this logic to everything, even books I despise. There are 'alternate versions' of Stephanie Meyer's Breaking Dawn floating around, books that were written by angry fans who hated the way she wrote the ending of the Twilight series. As I've mentioned, I hated Breaking Dawn and thought it one of the worst books I've read in several years. Yet that doesn't mean that I have the right to change it. It's Stephanie Meyer's baby, her creation. Even if it is a self-indulgent, twisted piece of anti-feminist rubbish, that's the way she wrote it. End of story. Unless she decides that it is, indeed, absolute crap, recalls every copy she published and issues a better version, that's the way the series ends. No amount of fanfiction is going to change it.

I can hear the opposing arguments: At least fanfiction writers are writing, using their imaginations, finding ways to get through bad times in life. It's an outlet, a way to inspire creativity. Sure, that's fine, I suppose. Some of them are actually quite good writers and I can't help but wonder if, maybe, they applied the same energy to original stories with their own characters, we'd have less Breaking Dawns and more Harry Potter type novels.

I know that writing fanfiction is almost like a drug; a way to escape into a world that is more interesting than the real one around us. It's a way to 'talk' to characters that are loved, adored, hated, admired. It's a way to crawl inside those characters head's, to be a part of that world we've read about or watched. It's a way to be a part of it, to wrap ourselves up in the lives of the people we've only ever observed before, voyeuristically or otherwise.

So I get it. I do. I still hate it. I still hate the violation of an original idea. I still think the fanfiction writers should step outside of fantasy and project that creativity into the real world around them but, like any vice, I don't suppose they can help it, not really. I really have no right to condemn them and, really, I'm not. I'm just stating the fact that I, as a writer, and as Captain Monkeypants, do not really understand why there is so much fanfiction out there and why it's tolerated. I suppose imitation is the highest form of flattery which is why some of the "canon" writers don't mind but I can safely say, it would bother me if someone took my characters and used them for virtual sexual gratification. Whatever reason the fanfiction writers do it, I still don't like it. I suppose it's like shrimp; you either love it or you hate it. I, personally, hate shrimp. The taste is ok but the texture and feel in my mouth is vile. Fan fiction is like shrimp. I like the canon but I feel dirty when reading the fan fiction, like I'm commiting a violatation against the original writer.

I'm sure I'll offend with this post and I do, honestly, apologize. It's just my opinion. I have friends who like fanfiction, who even write it. Maybe there's more to it than I've ranted about here. Maybe there is something I don't get about it. If so, tell me because, as I said before, knowing is half the battle.

Happy Tuesday

Why I Once Would have Loved Twilight: The Obsessive Nature of Captain Monkeypants

I've always been a creature of phases. And I don't mean that like I'm a werewolf or anything but, rather, that I've always had a bit of an obsessive personality. Ever since I was a child, I've had a tendency to get stuck on something and it becomes my most favourite thing in life.

For example, one of my earliest obsessions was with a British children's author named Enid Blyton. As an avid reader anyway, I discovered that she had hundreds of books. They were books about boarding schools, fantasy lands that could be found at the top of trees, child detectives, mysteries and even had my most favourite character: Noddy. Noddy was a little elf-like thing whose best friend was the grumpy Big Ears. I used to call him "Biggy Ears" before I knew better. I absorbed Enid Blyton's books like a sponge: I used to go to the library and come home with a stack of five books, all by her. I wanted to go to boarding school, to have midnight feasts, to do all the things her characters did. Actually, I've always had a sneaking suspicion that J.K. Rowling, author of Harry Potter, also read her share of Enid Blyton when she was younger. There are definitely some good Blyton-esque scenes in her books, especially the earlier ones before the world of Hogwarts got too dark.

Anyway, my obsession got to the point where, I believe, a teacher even told my mother that I should probably read something else to give me some variety. You see, I didn't know it then but Enid wasn't, um....a good writer. She tended to use the same words over and over and being as young as I was, I didn't realize how dated her books were, even when I was a child.

Sadly, I got my hands on some Enid Blyton books fairly recently, books that I'd loved as a child about St. Clare's school. I was horrified. They were terrible. They were full of terms like "fiddlesticks" and "golly gosh" and they were absolutely horrendously written. Needless to say, I was mildly crushed that such a staple of my youth wasn't the paragon I believed her to be. Yet she'd given me an impetus to read voraciously as a young 'un and there was value in that.

My obsessions continued. They veered in music in which I am now sort of embarrassed to admit I was a huge Wham! fan and was in love with George Michael. Ok, I'm more than sort of embarrassed. Hey, I was ten. We didn't know he was gay then. My best friend and I would had recorded two Wham! videos- "Careless Whisper" and "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" (and yes, ok, I know technically "Careless Whisper" was a solo effort by George but that's irrelevant to my story). We would run home at lunch EVERY DAY and watch them. My poor mother- she had to suffer through that. Sorry, mum. Really.

From Wham! I moved on bouncing from films to television to books and back to music. I went through a heavy metal period in my teens, wearing the black band shirts and thinking I was cool because I liked hair bands. Again, hindsight is 20-20 but at the time, they were a metaphor for my painful awkward teen years. My friends and I would have lotteries to divide up who had 'custody' of a band for the week. Yes, again....I was an unhappy teen for a while but, then again, show me a happy one. As teens, we all think that we're misunderstood and unliked by our peers. It's only fifteen years later and you realize that all those people you thought hated you really were just as messed up and befuddled by life as you and suddenly they all want to be your Facebook friend.

Uh, sorry...I digress. After that phase, I changed friends. I think it's because I suddenly realized that life really didn't suck and I was just a dork in a black shirt listening to music from men more effeminate then me. I made new friends and started to listen to happier things like Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals.

It was a new phase. That one lasted me a while. During that phase, I also went through an Anne Rice phase in which I loved vampires again. I've always liked vampires but Anne Rice made them more romantic and less, you know, fangy and bloody. Phases can overlap, you know.

Since then, I've probably had a dozen more phases. I went through a huge Buffy the Vampire Slayer phases but, then again, that one is still ongoing merely because Joss Whedon, the writer and creator of the show is a genius and I will follow his creativity wherever he goes because he always keeps me amused, spellbound and fascinated by his ability to write and create such original stuff.

You may wonder why I'm telling you all this. My snarky answer is that it's my blog, I can tell you what I like. Surprisingly, however, I do have a point. This whole reverie was sparked by a visit to a bookstore this weekend in which I saw two teenage girls grabbing several copies of Stephanie Meyer's Twilight books and literally being so excited you could see them jumping up and down.

Surprisingly enough, given my past rants and blogs about Ms. Meyer, this isn't actually a tirade against her and her mediocre books. It's mostly because when I saw those teens being that excited over a book, I could relate to it. Maybe the reason I hate those books so much is because I know, as a teen, I, too, would have wanted to be Bella Swan with her sparkled-skin, bronze-haired hero to save her from her mundane life. I would have felt catharsis in Bella's unhappiness too. So I can't even mock them as I normally would. Mostly, I'm excited that they are that excited over a book. Ok, so I wish it was someone more deserving like Neil Gaiman, Celia Rees, J.K. Rowling or even Stephen King but, well, at least they're excited over a book of some kind.

The only thing that I wonder, especially as I surf the pages of the internet, is how those Twi-hards are going to feel in a few years. At the moment, every entertainment site I read likes to talk about the sequel to the blah Twilight movie and who will play who and if the new director will be good. With each online news story, there is room for comments and that space is filled with devoted love from Twi-hards about how amazing the movie will be, how much Robert Pattinson resembles the Edward in their head and all of that. Yes, I read them. I used to be a quasi-journalist- I'm a firm believer in reading the good as well as the bad.

The comments are often written in that annoying shorthand used for text messaging, so fluidly done that it's obviously a teen. They love their Twilight. They love Stephanie Meyer. They love the books so much that they've read them multiple times.

There's nothing wrong with that. Whatever gets 'em through the day.

Yet, as I mentioned, in a few years, when those devoted fans are a little better adjusted to life, when the awkward teen years are behind them and they find themselves becoming adults, will they really be able to go back to Twilight and see the same beauty and brilliance they see now? Or will it become one of those slightly embarrassing obsessions that got them through middle school or high school but now needs to be forgotten?

I can't answer that because I don't know. What I do know is that when I was fourteen, I read The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton. I fell in love with the book. I read it and reread it. I memorized the opening. I wondered what would happen if I met Ponyboy. I watched the movie. It wasn't great but I was willing to overlook that because there were Sodapop, Ponyboy and Johnny on the screen.

I reread that book a few years ago. I get why I loved it. It's the tale of a teen who doesn't fit in but eventually, after some crappy experiences, realizes that he has to stay true to himself. Something like that, anyway. I don't know why I could relate to it. I was from an unbroken, nicely stable, loving middle-class family- completely the opposite of any of The Outsider's characters. Yet I also cringed a little that I'd loved it as much as I had. I recognized that value it gave me in my teens but, as an adult, like any youthful obsession, I couldn't remember why I'd loved it to the point of obsession.

I suppose, maybe, The Outsiders was my Twilight. Minus the sappy romance and drippy descriptions, of course. I know now, having the hindsight and something resembling wisdom, that had I loved Twilight in my teens, it would now be one of those shelved memories along with Def Leppard, Bon Jovi and crushes on skateboarders who should have bathed more often. I'd be slightly embarrassed that I loved it but in a way, it made me who I am, for better or for worse. I like who I am now and that means everything. I hope those Twilight fans have a similar experience.

Sorry for the long blog but thanks, as always, for reading. Happy Wednesday.

Happy New Year!

It's New Year's Eve. I feel as though I should write a deep and meaningful blog, a reflection of this past year. Or I should give my best and worst for the year as other bloggers seem to be doing. There's nothing wrong with that. Ok, so I don't often agree with the choice for the best of 2008 but then again, once I find something I like, whether it be music or not, it becomes my 'best', regardless of what year it's from. For example, if asked what the best album of 2008 is, I would say "Green Day: American Idiot." Ok, so it was released in 2004 but it's still the album I listen to most and since nothing really came out that made me drop this from my 'best' list, then it's still the best.

So, that's why I won't do a Captain Monkeypants 'Best of 2008' list. Because my 2008 is your 2004 or 2005. And once something's the best, it's hard to top that.

Instead, I'll do what I seem to do best...ramble for a while.

New Years Eve has never been a hugely momentous event in my life. Many of my years have been spent quietly at home with my parents, drinking Baileys, occasionally champagne and turning off a movie to watch the ball drop. This may read like I'm pathetic. Perhaps I am. Yet the thing is, I adore my parents. They love me unconditionally and they're always there for me. I know the trendy thing to do is go to a party and kiss someone at midnight but if I don't have anyone I want to kiss at midnight, well, then a quiet evening in with my parents is actually a rather nice alternative.

Ok, so there have been times when there's someone I wish would kiss me at midnight but I've never been much of a romantic heroine and it never happens.

The odd occasion where I've been away from home for New Years have been interesting. One year, I had to go back to school early and my roommate and I tried to go to a New Years Eve party but by the time it was 11 p.m., almost the entire body of the party was either drunk or stoned. It was clear that the seeing in of the New Year wasn't going to happen unless the host of the party stopped throwing up enough to remember what night it was so we slipped out the back door, went home, grabbed a bottle of strawberry wine and went and watched the Midnight fireworks dance over the Ohio river. I have to say, that was a nice way to see in the New Year.

Another year, I was in Pasadena, crammed like a sardine into my friend's living room. That was a fun night. It was a houseful of people, all just relaxing. It was freezing and it was hard to stay warm. We crammed around a little fireplace, warming ourselves enough to go outside. We all planned on seeing in the New Year, watching the Stealth Bomber fly over in the morning, signaling the start of the Rose Parade.

Well, we did see in the New Year. Yet we all managed to sleep until we heard the bomber flying overhead. By the time we all sprinted outside, we'd missed it. We managed to wander up to watch the Rose Parade, a truly amazing spectacle. I don't think watching it on TV does it justice; the sight of a million flowers, wound into patterns, designs, ornaments, adornments....it's truly something to watch live.

Tonight, I've been invited to a party. I was excited to go to a real one. Unfortunately, though, my return to the Midwest from the moderate temperature of L.A. is playing havoc on my immune system and I'm coughing and sneezing and feeling generally unlike imbibing and infecting others with my germs. I may try to go but it may end up being a quiet New Year's after all. It honestly doesn't matter. To me, it's not what you're doing on New Year's Eve that matters but it's how you pass the following year that does.

2008 has been a strange year. It's been a year of loss, change, old and new experiences. It's been a year when I've learned that friends can also be family, that dreams don't die, they just strengthen and grow stronger. It's been a year when I've learned that the important things don't have to be huge, they can be tiny and still mean just as much.

I don't know if I have resolutions for the new year that I don't make every day. It's something to think about, I guess. The year starts anew and we're supposed to also but do we, really? Do we really become better people tomorrow because the year has started over? Do our slates really clean and give us a new chance?

What does the turning of a year offer us that we wouldn't have on any other tomorrow? It's all symbolic, that I know. Yet maybe there is something in the closing of the year that does make everything feel fresh, feel new. Maybe there is a reason to resolve to do things better, to try harder, to reach harder and grab tighter to the dreams we have in our hearts and minds.

Whether I celebrate as a group or I see the New Year in alone, it really makes no difference, I suppose. It will happen, regardless of what I'm doing. My friends in the UK will be in 2009 five hours before I am, my friends in California, three hours after. It's a strange time when midnight hits on New Years: time travel is actually possible. I like that aspect, it's exciting.

I suppose I should think about New Years Resolutions. Perhaps I should resolve to not be so mean about Stephanie Meyer. Although, since it's still 2008, I can safely say the WORST book of the year is definitely Breaking Dawn without breaking that resolution. I'll work on the rest.

In the meantime, no matter what you end up doing or who you end up with, I wish you all a happy and prosperous new year. Here's to 2009, a year of hope and newness.

-CM 12-31-08

Friday Rants

It's pouring with rain outside. It's lovely. It's good rain, not the scary freezing stuff that makes it hard to drive. It's also Friday which means I'm done at work for a whole week after this. Finally, it's less than a week until Christmas. All these things should mean Captain Monkeypants is ready to wax poetically about the beauty of the holidays, the soothiness of the rain, the twinkly lights of the beautifully decorated houses she's seen.

However, I'm actually in a mood to rant. Maybe it's because I'm tired. I went to bed too late and I woke up too early. That's my excuse anyway. It also may have something to do with the fact that while fudge may seem like a nice easy way out of a cookie exchange, preparing ten bags with a dozen pieces in it is a sticky and time consuming way to spend the evening.

I was already in a bad mood when I sat down to put the fudge in the pretty cellophane bags I had ready for it. Mostly, it was because of online retailers. Correct me if I'm wrong but we are in a bad way with our economy, right? Which means businesses are failing left, right and center? So, hypothetically speaking, as a business, wouldn't NOW be the time that you would be paying a little more attention to your business practices and customers so that you don't go under with the rest of the victims of this horrible economic environment?

It would seem not. I started Christmas shopping before Thanksgiving. I did a lot of it online this year, thinking it would save time and money. Well, it hasn't done either. I ordered two items within two days each other in the first week of December. Neither has arrived. You're probably thinking, that's ok, there's a week until Christmas.

Except there's not. One of the items needs to be rerouted to California. I'm still waiting for that. I paid for regular shipping, they decided to send it media mail. I am not happy about this. The other company did the same but they didn't even ship it until ten days AFTER I had ordered it. Seriously, online stores, do you really want to screw your customers now? I know how to leave feedback and, trust me, I will.

So, last night, I packed my boxes full of gifts for my Los Angeles friends but there's a big gift missing. This does not make me happy.

This morning, I'm already crabby. I shouldn't listen to the radio in the mornings. Have you heard the new McDonalds ad campaign? I think they're trying to be clever and start a trend. They're trying to get people to say they're "Nug Nuts", meaning they're nuts for chicken nuggets. "Nug Nuts" sounds stupid. It sounds like some overpriced advertising company sat in a roomful of desperate marketing people and said "Hey, let's come up with a catchphrase."

You can't manufacture a catchphrase. They're organic things that grow out of a natural ease of saying them. They're clever or funny. "Nug Nuts" is not funny. It's desperate.

The thing that is amusing about that is I'm a HUGE fan of calling people "NumbNuts" which sounds a lot like "Nug Nuts." To me, "Numb nuts" is just hilarious. It sounds funny and it makes me giggle to say it. "Sugar Tits" also makes me giggle. I thank Danny DeVito and Mel Gibson respectively for those insults. They're fun to say.

"Nug Nuts," however, is not fun.

Speaking, of commercials, there's another one that irritates me. It's for the X-box 360. Have you seen them? Basically, the commercial starts with a family sitting on the couch in a living room watching Netflix. Then the camera pans and moves out and the scenery rotates and you're looking in the back of someone's skull. I don't get it. Also, it's vile. Why do you have a family watching Netflix in the back of your head? I get the whole 360 degree rotation thing and the tie in to the X-Box 360 because I'm not THAT bad at maths but why are we looking at the back of someone's head. STOP IT. I don't want to see that.

In other advertising rants, I'm still irritated by the jewelry commercial in which the guy gets up in the night, gets the pretty necklace for his wife, lays it over her throat while she's sleeping and the first thing she does in the morning is reach for her throat and find it. I get that it's supposed to be romantic and sweet but let's be realistic for a moment. First of all, ladies, is the first thing YOU do is reach for your throat in the morning? Not me- I look at the bloody clock to see what time it is. Secondly, he didn't do up the clasp so even on the stillest of sleepers, the necklace wouldn't stay in position. And I AM the stillest of sleepers, seriously. I've had friends check to see if I still have a pulse in the morning because I don't move while I'm sleeping.

That necklace would be lost somewhere in that bed. Couldn't he do something more romantic like give it to her with her coffee and toast? For me, toast=love. A man that makes me toast AND gives me a necklace at the same time? That's true love. I'm still waiting for that.

Ok, I know, I know, I'm getting wordy. And I'm ranting. I haven't had a rant in a while. Now that I have a nice working iPod, I can't complain about that anymore. So I have to find other things. Bear with me; ranting is the same as venting, it's therapeutic.

Yet it is Friday which means things can't be that bad. I'm heading home for the holidays on Saturday evening which means I can relax, eat too much and not worry about work for a while. There's a lot of good to be found in that. I'll be blogging at least some of next week and I promise to be in a better mood. Hey, at least I'm not ranting about Stephanie Meyer again.

Have a great weekend.

Bonus Blog: Twilight...My Review

If you've read my blog on any given week, I have a tendency to rant. My favourite ranting topic o' the moment is Stephanie Meyer and the awfulness of Breaking Dawn. I'm also not much of a Meyer fan in general. I read Twilight a while ago, before I knew about the Twi-hards or (Twi-tards, as I prefer) and the Twilight moms. I thought it was an ok book, one by which Anne Rice should feel a little plagerized but I sort of understood why it reached teens. The rest of the series was bland and silly with the exception of Breaking Dawn which should never have been published without mass rewriting and editing.

My hatred of Breaking Dawn retroactively made me despise anything to do with Meyer and Twilight and so when the movie became the cover story for Entertainment Weekly on a regular basis or, at the very least, a huge space-stealer, I was irritated beyond belief. I was sick to death of the hype and still, to this day, can't understand why Entertainment Weekly and other magazines could not promote the far-superior Stardust movie last year with the same gusto. Stardust, based on the Neil Gaiman book, was cute, clever, romantic, hilarious and just a fun ride that makes me want to rewatch it over and over. The original book is a grown-up fairy tale, written with lyric and simplicity and worth ten of Twilight any day.

Yet, because I am a fair Monkeypants, I knew I couldn't complain about a movie without seeing it and so, I knew I had to see Twilight. After all, I'm a firm believer that you can't mock properly without having done your research.

I had no expectations. I expected it to stink. The previews had done nothing to prove otherwise. So I went into the theatre, expecting to snort with derision and emerge at the end, satisfied that I'd been right.

Truth is, that didn't happen. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't a good movie by any means. It just wasn't as horrible as I expected. Given my earlier scathing comments, that's high praise.

Let's start with what I liked. I thought that the scene in which Edward Cullen (Robert Pattinson) and Bella Swan (Kristin Stewart) are paired as lab partners was awesome. The look of revulsion on Edward's face was perfect. The problem was, it made me wonder how much cooler the books would have been if he had continued to loathe her. So much more interesting than puppy-love, don't you think?

Yet this scene made me feel differently about Robert's portrayal of Edward. I got a strong feeling that he was almost mocking the character as he portrayed him, that there was a snarky and bitter undertone in his performance that played perfectly on screen. I'm probably wrong but I felt like Robert didn't think much to Edward and that added a rather good layer to the character who otherwise is one of the wussiest, blandest vampires ever to grace the fiction world.

I also liked Billy Burke's portrayal of Charlie Swan, Bella's dad. In the books, the character has always been rather obtuse and uninvolved in his daughter's romantic entanglement with vampires. Even when she disappeared for months and then re-appeared as a vampire in Breaking Dawn, all it took was for a football game on TV to distract him. I get the feeling that the movie Charlie would kick that Charlie's arse. He's protective, wry and funny. Granted, the man is town Police Chief and he cleans his gun while drinking beer but he's funny and I loved the layers he gave a somewhat background character.

I also actually enjoyed the baseball scene. Set to Muse's "Supermassive Black Hole", the scene is fun and enjoyable. Then again, I've always liked Muse so maybe that was why.

So, see, I can be nice. But I can also be scathing. For example, though Bella Swan has always baffled me as to why Edward can love such a drip, Kristin Stewart's portrayal is beyond dull. She's very pretty and has good hair in the movie. However, she delivers Bella's lines in a monotonal fashion that show that she, like us, is bored with the character. The turning point in the movie in which it went from being decent to being bad was the scene where she confronts Edward and tells him she knows he's a vampire. Ugh. The way she says her lines: "Your skin is ice-cold and pale..." and all that stuff is cringeworthy.

Speaking of lines, there are some stinkers in there. The two worst, sadly, are taken directly from Meyer's book: "And so the lion fell in love with the lamb" and "You're my special brand of heroin". Really? I HATE the lion/lamb line. It makes me think of one of those high-school freshman who want to be writers journaling in their notebook, writing what they think is deep prose but really is a glorified diary entry.

Then there's the special effects. I know the budget sucked for the movie but it seems that they skimped on areas that should have had the most attention paid to them. We didn't need to see Edward jump and run up so many trees. The money spent on that would much better have been spent on makeup. Seriously, Carlisle Cullen looks terrible. You can see the pancake makeup piled on. Maybe it was the blonde hair but he looked washed out and unattractive.

The scene in which Edward shows why he can't go out in the sun (he sparkles- in case you hadn't read the book) was awful. He looked sweaty. He didn't look like "he'd been sprinkled with diamond dust" as the book so frequently and gushingly describes. He looked wet and sweaty.

And then there are the rest of the Cullens. Alice was pretty good, very accurate to the way she is in the book. Emmett was supposed to be strong and big but he looked like a lumberjack to me. Rosalie, played by Nikki Read, was over-acted and pretty terrible. And then there was Jasper. He stood there with a blank look on his face. He's supposed to be able to calm people's emotions, that's his Vampire Power. I now call him Jasper Scissorhands because his hair and facial expression are so much like Edward Scissorhands, he should be sued.

Overall, there were moments where I was entertained. I only cringed a couple of times. I won't mention the author's cameo in the movie. It irritated me, let's leave it at that.

I wouldn't recommend Twilight. It isn't good. It's the type of movie that, if it didn't have an army of militant fans, would probably have flopped and emerged as a DVD rental. It's ok. It's watchable but it won't explain to the non-Twilight readers what all the fuss is about. Harry Potter it is not but then, it doesn't even deserve to be placed in comparison with those books though I'm reading otherwise.

I had to review this movie since I've ragged on the subject so much. I think perhaps if it was viewed as a comedy, it'd be better. I can't help but think Robert Pattinson might like that. Yet, overall, it wasn't as painful as I expected. But it wasn't good. And that, for now, is all I have to say about that.

In which I Tried to be Nice but Failed Miserably (Sorry, Stephanie Meyer)

I promise I'm going to try to hold back from complaining about anything related to Twilight, Stephanie Meyer or anything resembling syrupy, unoriginal, annoying vampire fiction. At least for today. I think I need to read something else that's really bad; then again after I read The DaVinci Code by Dan Brown that sent me on a rant that still isn't quite over, even though it's been several years since I read it. To be fair though, Angels and Demons, the prequel to The Davinci Code. was much worse. I mean, that one had the self-proclaimed 'Harrison Ford in Tweed' hero, Robert Langdon falling from a high flying helicopter and he escaped with nary a bruise.

Here's a confession though: Sometimes I read Dan Brown's fiction because it's so bad, I relish it. There's still a couple of his books I haven't read and I'd like to think I can restrain myself. It shouldn't be too hard. After all the last one I read was so silly, I can't believe it got published. It was something like Digital Fortress or something. There's a couple of them that sound the same. All I know is that he started writing the book with a female heroine who was supposed to be smart but she ended up getting pushed to the sidelines because the men around her were much smarter. It was bad. Though the book had one of my all-time favourite "Don't Write Like This" phrases: "Her olive gaze was keen." To this day, I'm not quite sure whether he meant she had green eyes that turned everything around her green and keen or whether she had mysteriously replaced her eyeballs with pimento stuffed olives. Both of them make for an interesting visual, you have to admit.

Other than the Strictly Research Harlequin books I read, I haven't read anything bad since Breaking Dawn. I've read good books. I don't know if that's because I've just picked good books since then or because that book was so atrocious that everything else pales in comparison.

At the moment, I'm reading a popular fiction book: The Time Traveler's Wife. I wasn't sure about it at first. The time traveling was a bit confusing in the beginning but then it evened out and it got interesting. I also wasn't sure about it because I was afraid it was going to be some silly, too fictional to be real love story. Not that there's anything thing wrong with a love story but if the lovers in question don't at least have a couple of scenes where they're ready to throw knives at one another, it's not realistic to me. Then again, I am the person who couldn't get through Wuthering Heights. Talk about a couple of drips. They actually probably would have thrown knives at each other, come to mention it. Most of the time, it seemed like that hated each other. I think it was one of those grand passions that are so famous in fiction. Unfortunately, they were both so despicable, I really wished they'd both just ride off into the moors and get eaten by the Blair Witch or something.

Um, yeah, Captain Monkeypants may still be feeling a little snarky. Sorry about that.

Back to The Time Traveler's Wife. It was a loaner from a good friend who insisted I finish it. So I perservered even though I don't do well with the concept of time travel. To me, it's the same level of confusion as concentrating while trying to brush my hair in the mirror. I'm not terribly good at the whole reverse image thing. I get befuddled. Time travel befuddles me. All that paradoxical stuff in which future people can travel back and talk to past people but not be seen by their present people or whatever...it's all rather perplexing. It's one of those things I'd rather be perplexed by rather than have someone try to explain it. Like all things I don't understand, it's magic. That's good enough for me.

But this book isn't confusing now I'm into it. I'm intrigued. I'm almost done and I think I might have figured out how it's going to end and if I'm right, I don't think I'm going to like it but I might love it. I confess, sometimes I'm a skipper. This means that I cheat, I skip to the end of a book because I can't wait to see what happens. I'm trying to be better about that lately so I'm not skipping to the end of this book.

The reason I might not like it is that it's not going to be a completely happy ending. I might love it because if I'm right, it means the author did a brilliant thing in placing an almost throwaway scene strategically towards the beginning of the book and I almost didn't think anything of it. I love it when that happens. I love that I'd have to read the second time to see if knowing the ending spoils the book. I'm weird like that, I suppose but I love to reread a good book, particularly one with an excellent ending.

Endings are hard for writers. There are some writers I enjoy who cannot write a decent ending to save their life. Stephen King comes to mind. He falls into the trap of building it up so much that the ending is almost a complete letdown because there's nowhere to go. I think It is the best example of that. I loved that book until the end. The flashbacks were clever, the story built up, it was creepy and scary and then when you found out that the It in question was really just a glorified giant spider, it was a bit of a letdown. Pennywise the Clown was WAY creepier. Dean Koontz is also pretty bad at endings. I think horror writers have it hardest because creating the horror is much easier than explaining it. After all, it's really just a variation on the old saying that there's power in a name. There's a power in knowing in a horror novel. Once you know what the Big Creepy is, it's far less creepy. It becomes an object that can be confronted because it is known. It's the not knowing that's the scariest thing of all.

Stephen King's son released a novel fairly recently. His name is Joe Hill and the novel is Heart Shaped Box. For a first time novel, it was actually quite a good read. It definitely had some moments of creepiness. When he released it, he didn't publicize who he was but one look at his photo on the back cover and it was pretty obvious to anyone who spent vast amounts of their teenage years reading Stephen King novels that the two were related. They look extremely alike. It wasn't a mystery. Joe has a lot of similarities in his writing to the earlier Stephen King. I can't say it was the best horror novel I read but as a ghost story, it's definitely worth reading. But I will admit, the ending of that wasn't anything I really remember. I remember the hero and his unlikely love. I remember the ghost. I remember how the ghost came to being and I remember being very sad for the dogs. I just don't remember the ending very well. That's probably not a good sign.

I won't lie and say I'm great at endings either. They're hard. Really hard. The more you write the characters and the longer you spend with them, the harder it is. I've written eight novels now. Of those eight, there are five that are a series. I spent a couple of years with the main characters, my boys as I like to refer to them: John, Michael and David. They're all wonderful, even when they're evil and they do bad things. I killed one of them. Actually, no, I killed two of them. That was hard. I'd say that was a spoiler because nothing is ever what it seems, especially when I'm making up the details.

But the hardest part was writing the last book in the series and realizing that their story was done. Though I knew how it would end, getting there took a long time. I've rewritten the ending several times and I don't think I'm 100% happy with it. It needs to be edited more. It needs to be tidied up. It needs to be tighter. But I couldn't quite let go of them because I was afraid that would be it. Those boys would leave me and I'd have to move on.

Those boys haven't left me though. They're in my head all the time. I call it my literary schitzophrenia. They've been joined by a couple of other characters who've stuck with me but whose ending I had no trouble with. I usually don't start to write towards the ending until I know what it will be. Sometimes I know the ending before I know the beginning. Other times, I think I know the end but my characters tell me otherwise and I'm at their mercy.

I'd love to share my books with the world. I've dabbled with query letters but I haven't really jumped in feet first. I want those boys I wrote to get out into the world. I want them to grab the readers the way they grabbed me, their tale of good and evil, friendship and brotherhood and the sometimes brutal way they have to act to carry out their purpose in life. And I love how they take that purpose in life and stomp all over it.

But when I think about jumping in feet first, I think about poor Stephanie Meyer. She might be rich but there are always going to be people like me, brutally stomping on the ending to her Twilight saga and ranting about what a pile of crap it is. I'd like to think she was terrified to let the world read that, that it meant so much to her she almost didn't want to publish it because her heart was in that novel. But I've read it and as brutal as it sounds, there is no heart in there. To me, Breaking Dawn is just the self-indulgent whim of a writer who stopped remembering to let her characters tell the story and forced them into submission so she could write the ending she'd always visualized instead of the one that belonged to the book.

So, though I planned on finishing The Time Traveler's Wife tomorrow, I think I may stretch it out. The ending isn't too far off now and if it's anything like the rest of the book, it's going to make me think. Against my expectations, I like the characters and I like how unconventional they are. I especially like that though the time traveler and his wife are in love, they fight and argue like real people. I like thinking I know how it's going to end but knowing I might be wrong. I just hope that I'm not wrong about how good it's going to be. Endings are hard, in every sense of the word. But sometimes they can be as good as a beginning when it leaves you with a hope, a thought and a memory of how much it meant to have it, even for a little while. It's true for writing and it's true for life. It's always hard to say goodbye.

On that note, it is time for my ending for now. I know I said I'd be nice and not rant about Stephanie Meyer but, well, like I said, I can't always plan for how I write. It just happens. And I said I'd try. Clearly even the best of intentions go awry sometimes. I'll try to read something else awful so I can move on. Recommendations are greatly appreciated.

Happy Thursday, everyone.

There's always a Weatherly....

I am at a workshop all week. I think I mentioned that. Yesterday, I had to put in 13 hours of work. I'm playing two roles at the moment, one as a trainee which means I forced to cram a lot of information into my brain and the other as an employee of my company since they're providing the training. This means that I am expected to retain the learning.

I'm trying. I mentioned I wasn't good at meetings yesterday. I probably should mention today that I've never been particularly good at listening to lectures. I don't mind if it's a good lecture for which I have an interest in the subject but if it's remotely dull, I don't do to well.

This is not to say I don't keep trying. It just means that if the lecture is slightly dull or boring, i'm doomed.

Take yesterday for example. I had to learn some rather complicated stuff about how the software our company develops works. I managed to take in almost all of the first session. After that...well, it was spotty.

I did spend some rather interesting time observing people. I have learned in every training session, there's always one person whose head you wouldn't mind chopped off and served on a platter. Um, wait, maybe I should make that less barbaric lest you think I'm some kind of weirdo. There's always a person you would like to throw something at. Yes, much better.

In my session, we shall call her Weatherly for that is almost her name. Weatherly has used our software for a few years and thus, is an expert. Or so she claims. My first interaction came when I sat at her table for the obligatory welcome-and-introduce-yourself-by-saying-something-witty session. Bad idea. I didn't have a name badge on so she had no idea who I was. I got to listen to Weatherly talk about how tiny this training was compared to last year. I discovered afterwards that she hadn't been to the training last year and that she was thinking of a conference from two years ago. The conference is an annual event with over 200 people. Trainings average about 10-15 people. This one is 25 people.

She also managed to bad mouth several staff members who I know and like and respect. After a few too many moments, I reached across the table and introduced myself, pointedly. All this did was earn me a somewhat condescending sneer and meant that she began to whisper to her companion instead of talk full voice for the rest of the session.

She also likes to talk. A lot. Except it's never about anything useful, just very much about what a wonderful and fascinating person she is. She also likes to read the New York Times during the training sessions and then, during the exercises in which we apply what we've just learned, she spends the whole time asking the trainers questions because she's confused.

Fortunately, she's not the only distraction. We get a lot of breaks. I have a computer. This is dangerous as I'm a chronic surfer. I'm actually supposed to be listening but Weatherly just asked a question. She just arrived. 20 minutes late. She missed the discussion that would have answered her question. I'm trying to be patient but it's first thing in the morning. If the people who are from a time zone that's 3 hours behind can be here on time, I don't get why Weatherly, from a place within this time zone has to be late.

So I surf. I've read my Entertainment Weekly for the day. Normally, I like that website. Lately, it's been all about the Twilight movie. Once upon a time, I was curious about that movie. Then I read Breaking Dawn and I've retroactively reformed my opinion of the Twilight story. I hate it now. I'm so thrilled that teenage girls are fainting at the site of Robert Pattinson whenever they happen to catch a glimpse of him. He's playing the lead vampire in the movie, the swoony, perfect Edward Cullen. I say that with full sarcasm.

The funny thing is, in reading the Entertainment Weekly, I realized that Mr. Pattinson doesn't seem to care for his role much. Stephanie Meyer, the author of the novels, seems to think this movie is going to set him up for Leonardo DiCaprio levels of fame because it's such an amazing role. She makes a few slightly disparaging comments in the article about him disguised as compliments. I found that amusing.

More amusing, I found that both Robert and his costar, Kristin Stewart, don't seem to be taking their roles as seriously as both Meyer and the fans would like. They both seem to want to make sure that this isn't the defining role of their careers, that they'll be able to be actors without forever being able to be referred to as "Bella" and "Edward." I'm glad for them. It's quite a commitment they've made and neither of them seem to have known exactly how insane the fans and their mothers are.

So, seeing that they have teenage girls swooning before the movie comes out, makes me smile. I think it's good to have that sort of passion. It worries me a little in their mothers but...well...maybe it's a bonding thing. Maybe those mothers don't really fancy themselves a seventeen year old vampire. Granted, he's been 17 for a long time now but, well, that fictional character...he's still seventeen

Anyway, along with that surfing, I've also managed to read my email, make a move in my online scrabble-type game and read WAY too much on Facebook. And I still manage to get all my work done.

I'd say I'm proud of that but I'm really not. It's just the way I get through the day. I can't help it...I really want to be a good little student but I'm not. Not really. After all, I am the one who, in high school, tried to read Moby Dick, read the first page and then decided I could not read that book. I managed to do quite well in the discussion and on the paper; it's amazing how much deep thought you can make up when you read the back cover of a book. This is even before Wikipedia.

Anyway, I'm just babbling today because I don't have the usual time or brainpower to be able to write anything too funny or deep. Besides, Weatherly has sucked what little brain power I had away. She's currently asking why she can't connect to her home network on her personal laptop. My response would be much less polite than the instructors. Then again, her office only paid a few hundred dollars to send her here; why on earth would she need to learn anything?

Clearly, Captain Monkeypants is feeling snarky and crabby today. I apologize. I promise to be perkier tomorrow. Well, maybe not perky, perkiness in me is a little alarming. But I don't have to work quite so long today so maybe I'll this will help.

Then again, Weatherly is here all week. I can't wait.