I reached home after Comic Con at 10 p.m. last night, and am still weary. I want to write up descriptions of my Mythcon activities as well as my adventures at Comic Con. But my brain is still just getting into gear now.
And then I discovered that LiveJournal is down. That’s a motivator for getting into the habit of posting blog entries here on my own site first and then reposting to other sites. The times they are a-changing.
Anyway, more to come shortly, with photos even.
The Creature was upset that after spending almost 24 hours in bubble wrap the first thing he finds on emerging is that I’d ordered room service for myself. Sorry pal, but I’d had breakfast at 6:30, and I was hungry.
So, I finally got everything thrown into the bags for the trip. At the last minute, I decided to skip using the duffle bag, at least for the trip to Mythcon. The idea of wrangling the wheelie, the duffle, the computer and my messenger bag was a bit much. Besides, I didn’t really need all the stuff I was thinking of packing. It did make the computer bag stuffed, and I worried about the Creature (who was to travel well wrapped in bubble wrap in the messenger bag). But mostly I was ready to go.
I’d ordered a shuttle service to take me to Union Station, and it was a breeze. I got there in plenty of time, which was reassuring to me. Whenever I’m doing something new, I prefer to leave plenty of time for glitches, and this was my first long distance train trip. Upon entering Union Station, I had to take a picture of the closed off section. It’s a beautiful space.
Los Angeles Union Station
It’s not really necessary for current usage. But they keep it in good shape. And it does get used for locations for film and television. When they do use it as a location, they move in waiting area seating.
This is the restaurant eatery in the station. In the distance is where all the ticketing and check-ins occur, and where the real waiting area is.
Los Angeles Union Station
I sat in the waiting area, staring at the status sign, and eves-dropped on the Red Caps. The incoming train for the Southwest Chief was late. In the end, about a half hour late. Which mean our boarding was late. But, eventually, they called the passengers, and I hopped on one of the trolleys for a lift out to the platform.
Of course, when we got to the platform, the train still had not been backed into place for boarding. Two Surfliner trains, but no sign yet of our Southwest Chief.
Los Angeles train platform
But… eventually it rolled into place and we boarded.
Corridors and stairs on trains are narrow, narrow, narrow. And difficult to manouver if you are wrangling baggage. My roomette berth was on the upper level. I initially would have preferred to have a lower level, but later realized that you enter the dining car on the upper level, plus you have better views.
“Roomette” is an interesting term, I discovered. Only a bit wider than a large armchair, with the space of two seats facing each other. I’ve seen walk-in closets that are larger.
Roomette on the train
I had scrunched myself as far back in the opposite corner to take this picture, so you can imagine the size limits. Still, I’m not complaining. The pillows were sufficient, and there was plenty of leg room.
The train pulled out 45 minutes after our scheduled departure, and off we went. It was odd seeing the LA area from a different point of view. I really had no idea where the Amtrak tracks ran. Apparently they head to Fullerton for a pick up stop, then to Corona and on to Riverside.
There are odd things to see from the train. At one point, as we went under a bridge, smack dab in the center, at the top of the bank, right under the bridge itself, there was a lawn chair planted. I wondered who it was that spent so much time under the bridge that they kept a chair there. As we approached Corona, there was one sort of grassy area, and a guy had spread out a blanket as if for a picnic and he waved at the train as it passed. I wondered if he did that a lot.
My dinner time was scheduled for 8, and the sky was still dusky warm colors as I sat down for it. I had a pleasant chat with my table mates. I had noted earlier that the full moon was rising over, although it seemed pale in the early dusk. But it grew brighter as the rest of the sky darkened. It was full dark by the time the train stopped in Riverside to take on more passengers. I was a little disappointed by this, as I’d hoped to see the landscape as we climbed the Cajon Pass. Oh well.
I did some work on the computer for a bit after dinner, but life on the train tends to fold up after 10. I wrangled the seats for the “bed” configureation (sort of – enough to suit me), and stuck my bags on the upper bed.
Once the sliding door was closed and the drapes drawn, you become very conscious of how small the space is. And with nothing to distract me, there was the vibration of the rails and the swaying of the train. Every time the train approached a crossing, there would be the tri-tone “Tooot-tooot-toot-toooot”, which always translated in my mind as “Here Comes the Train!”. But there wasn’t much to see in the darkness outside.
Once we did get to the High Desert, the bright moon gave the landscape a grey cast, enough to see the edges of landforms. I discovered I couldn’t really sleep, at least not for a long time. I was resting, and perhaps cat napping, but not really sleeping.
The train rolled into Needles, and I pulled back the curtain a bit to see the place. I’ve driven the I-40 several times and have passed the Needles exit, but not much of the town can be seen from the Interstate. I was surprised to see how much “town” there was. Next time I drive that way, I may check it out. After Needles, there was the long climb to Kingman. The train slowed considerably as it made that climb. We reached the Williams stop by about 3 a.m., I think. I took note of that, because at Williams, you can get a special train up to the Grand Canyon. But now I know, if you’re coming by Amtrak from LA for that excursion, you arrive in Williams in the dead of night. Not so much fun, transfering for a short bus ride and then to another train. Then we rolled onward. We reached Flagstaff as dawn was coming up, a bit after 5 am. The dining car doesn’t open until 6:30 for breakfast, though. So I got dressed, had a cup of coffee (the car porter makes a good one), and relaxed.
I do have to say that the food on the train was actually good. I’d had flank steak for dinner and french toast for breakfast.
I realized that my lack of real sleep through the night was making me tired. Hopefully, on the return trip, I actually will get some sleep in. Though I must have fallen asleep for sure at one point, because I have an image that must have been a dream – that I’d stepped out into the corridor, and looked down the passage way toward the rest room. And someone was using the shower, but for some reason there was a window in the door to the shower room, and I could see the person – or at least part of their back. Had to be a dream, because there are no shared showers on the upper level of the car, and certainly none with windows in the corridor doors.
We actually arrived in Albuquerque early, 45 minutes ahead of schedule, so not only had the engineer made up the delay from the start, he picked up speed somewhere along the way.
I did have one odd moment as we had been crossing northern Arizona. I was idly looking out the window at the landscape during breakfast, and I started to recognize the formations. At this point, the tracks ran fairly near the I-40. And I went “Hey, I know that!” I glanced to the south, and sure enough, there was the southward bound two-lane highway that travels down to Taylor, where my friend James Owen and his family live. I waved in their direction as we passed, and thought about how we’d miss seeing him and Cindy and their delightful children at Mythcon. But the train didn’t linger with my thoughts.
So here I am, ensconced in my hotel room for Mythcon, finally feeling less of the train vibrations. A little more lounging and I might even have the energy to venture downstairs for dinner, and seeing if I can spot any other Thursday-arriving Mythies.
For Mythcon is about to begin.
I don’t think he likes the idea of me going so far.
It’s always an adventure when a trip sneaks up on me. Suddenly the hours shorten, seeming to go by much faster than they would on other days. Suddenly I realize that half the wardrobe I meant to take on the trip still needs to be laundered, and I wonder why I didn’t get to it last week.
Then there are all the pre-trip things that need attending too – making sure I have all my documents, letting the credit card companies know I’ll be traveling, arranging for the mail hold. It’s not that these tasks are individually very hard (they’re not); it’s just that you have to remember to do them!
And talk about things to remember — I bought a new memory chip for my camera, since I hope to take lots and lots of pictures, and didn’t want to possibly run out of space (the current chip is 3 years old and a bit better than two-thirds full). I need to actually get the chip INTO the camera (ha! another chore for right now!). I’m taking the laptop with me, and have to make sure that the latest versions of certain files are transferred from the desktop to the laptop. (Oh! The advance of technology that this is even considered important. As recently as the summer of 2007, I wouldn’t even have concerned myself with that element.)
All of this is to gear up for Mythcon and then the San Diego Comic Con.
Even though some friends won’t be making it to Mythcon this year (and you will be missed!), I still love going. It takes me out of the Hollywood MindSet for a weekend, where people are just interested in good stories and talking about what they mean to us. Thought provoking and stimulating and refreshing. And also, just the simple pleasure of seeing people I enjoy spending time with. This year, I’m moderating a panel on poetry in fantasy literature, and it should be a fun discussion. And if the panelists run out of things to say, we can always read our poems to each other. Heh.
This year instead of a road trip, I’ve opted to take the train. I haven’t made an over-night train trip since I was two. And of that train ride, I only remember one vivid moment of it. In 2008, my brother and I took the train from the Philadelphia area into Manhattan, and then a few days later, I took the train from Manhattan into Connecticut for that Mythcon. But other than those, this will be my first “serious” train trip. I try to pretend I’m so sophisticated that it is merely another mode of transport. But the reality is, I am gleefully anticipating the train ride. I have a sleeper roomette all to myself, which means I’ll be able to fall asleep watching the landscape go by.
Last year, when I drove to Dallas, off in the distance south of the Interstate 40, I could see the train tracks and the long lines of freight trains crossing the vast open countryside of the southwest. It’ll be nice to cross those lands and not have to be focusing on driving! I’m sure it will stir in me a longing for further adventures on cross-country trains. We’ll see about that.
When I get back from Albuquerque, I turn around and venture into the frenzied world of the San Diego Comic Con International. It’s a physically challenging experience — days of trudging and standing and manouvering through crowds. But when entertainment really is your business, it’s a great place to get a sense of the audience. What are people really interested in these days? How are various projects being recieved? What’s the next big trend in thematic entertainment. (Steampunk has held on for three years, but will that still be the most popular choice for the cosplayers?) And of course, there are the friends I see at Comic Con – varioius artists and editors, and writers, of course. My feet are going to be tired by the end of the con, but … it’s worth it to me.
Yes, it is the season for my Summertime Pilgrimages.
I started coloring the scans of my comic book short story “Tsalosha” a while ago. The intent is to prepare it and a couple of other stories to be printed together in color (probably from the POD company Ka-Blam). I’m not expecting it to be a huge money maker, but it’s getting the things out in front of the audience some more.
The character of Tsalosha is one of those creations that just appear in the imagination and say “Hi! Here I am.” I was never quite sure what to make of him. I wrote a very very short story, then a much longer short story (which was intended to be the first in a series about the character). And then in 2002, when a group of friends put together a black & white comic book anthology, it seemed to me that sequential art might be the best medium for his story. I hired professional comic artist Gordon Purcell to do the pencils and he recommended his frequent inker, Terry Pallot. They did a great job, and I appreciated it. Gordon even showed me some things about my character that I hadn’t realized (Tsalosha is a Trickster figure). We got some attention when we put the book out.
And there it sat for quite some time.
I recently started thinking of a color book with my comic scripts gathered together. And it seemed worth while to get “Tsalosha” colored. Except that I couldn’t afford a colorist. So it finally occured to me to try my hand at doing it myself. I did some beginning pieces, coloring my own art (like the Taliessin drawing, or the hobbit one). I’m never going to be the world’s greatest colorist, that’s for sure. But… I’m not too bad.
Anyway, because I’m a novice at this, it’s taking a while to get through the 8 pages. I only work on them one or two days at a stretch, since there’s so much writing I need to work on. But I’m making progress, and as I practice, I get a bit faster.
I decided to show off just a little, and post a version of the first page of the story. It’s got the credits on it. And it actually features the story antagonist, Elrashke (a strong fella with anger management issues), not Tsalosha himself.
Once it’s all colored, I might post the whole eight pages online on my website, but I haven’t decided about that yet. For now, here’s a first look at the color version of the story.
(I do have to say that one aspect of the story, a crucial aspect, is going to look better in color. Not that Gordon did a bad job – NO! He did a super job, given that the original publication was going to be in black & white. But working in color, in Photoshop, I’m going to be able to show this crucial aspect in an added dimension. I’m pleased with the possibilities.)
For the last 2 years, I’ve taken part in a science fiction/horror/fantasy critique group as part of GLAWS. We’ve met pretty consistantly, once a month, usually at the Venice library on a Saturday afternoon. This month, however, because of various schedule matters, we ended up using the back patio of a fellow GLAWS member, who very graciously accommodated us.
You can’t see anything of him except his arms gesturing there, but our fearless group leader, Ace Antonio Hall, does an excellent job of keeping people motivated.
For a critique group, we usually have a large turn out. And most of them are wonderfully consistent at showing up. We have a rule that encourages participation on those months when someone else’s work is being critiqued. It can be the bane of any writers’ group that some people only show up when their work is the one getting notes. We’ve tried to short circuit that by requiring a certain amount of attendance before your turn at the submissions slots comes up.
We generally do three submissions a month, each about 20 double-spaced pages. Then we go round and try to keep each reader to three minutes of feedback – trying to stick to the positive and what we think works first. That way the “problems list” is kept in a more encouraging context.
It’s very satisfying that most everyone who participates in this group turns in very good work. The horror genre is not my thing, but the pieces I’ve read in this group have been really good. I really hope my friends in the group do hit the market well and strongly – they deserve a bigger audience.
As for myself, their feedback has given me very important elements that I need to address in my fantasy novel. I’m going to have to acknowledge their assistance, when I finally finish the work.
Oh, and “ScHoFan” — it’s the beginnings of the genre names all pressed together.
I was working on a script earlier today and needed to take a break from it. This is a second major rewrite of a concept, and it’s a challenge to make plot changes, to tweak the characters, and still retain an enthusiasm for the work. So, to give myself a bit of a breather, I decided to either work on something else or just read through some other work-in-progress.
What I settled on is my “how I became a writer” memoir Making Everything Count. And found something that spoke to me where I am right now. A reminder to myself to trust my story-telling instincts, or at least my artistic instincts.
“Pastel Blasphemy #2”
What follows is a section that deals with part of my senior year of high school, and a particular project for my art class.
*****
The teacher I had for the art class my senior year was not as good as the one I had at Bellaire. Not that she was a poor teacher, just that she was not inspired. I went about the assignments pleasing myself first, and not worrying about what grade the work would get.
I had become fascinated at some point by the spectrum of color and how one color blended into the next. It became a compulsion with me to arrange things in the order of the spectrum: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. I began doing pieces where the background would run the spectrum, and the figures would be solid black silhouettes against them. I even played with the colors this way in my own versions of OpArt styles. But a secondary feature of this activity was that I preferred strong, saturated colors. I liked the power and intensity of unadulterated color. I was not a pastel type girl.
Somewhere along the line, I did a class assignment in what I considered “spectrum style.” I liked the piece, and got a good grade on it. I didn’t think much beyond that, until one day, the art teacher pulled me aside.
She told me the school administration had decided to have large panels of art made to be hung in the cafeteria (actually, bolted to the walls), and the art would be by students. My “spectrum style” piece had been chosen as one of those to be done for this project – so I would have to enlarge the design for a panel that was (possibly) five feet by four feet. I was pleased with the prospects. That is, until she told me the “However” about the project: the colors of my original were too intense, and I would have to do it in pastels.
I’m not sure if this was the administration’s request or her own. Either way, I was appalled by the request. I already knew that the pastel versions of the colors did not blend into each other the same way the saturated colors did. And the blending was the whole point of playing with the spectrum in the first place – at least for me. But as with the encounter with the second grade teacher, I was not quite capable of articulating my objection to this change. I did murmur some disagreement with this requirement, but it was set aside. I believe the reason given was that the saturated, bright colors would be too strong for the cafeteria.
So, I did it. I painted that huge panel according to their request, reproducing the swirling design shapes, and coloring them in with the pale versions of the spectrum. And hating the whole thing with every stroke of the brush. By the time I finished the panel, I never wanted to see it again. I don’t recall if the panels were hung by the end of the school year. I do know that I did not want to ever look on that panel again.
As with that second grade experience, I learned something important from this experience. Where the second grade experience taught me to trust what I knew of myself, this taught me to trust what I knew of my creative work. I learned that I really did know what I was doing, in one sense. I knew exactly the effect I was going for, and that if I compromised that, the work would fail, at least according to my purposes. That pastel blasphemy was deadly bland and had nothing of the excitement that the intense, saturated version had. I hated being made to drain the blood from my own creation, and privately vowed I would never do that again.
******
I never did look at that panel again. It was close to the end of the school year when I handed it over. I don’t think I ever saw it mounted on the cafeteria wall, so I can’t even swear that it was in fact hung.
It’s a bit strange to think of so utterly disavowing something I had labored at, but that is the case. The sense of wrongness about doing it has never left me: it is not how I wanted to do the piece, and I resented being made to twist it into a pale imitation of what it should have been. The way things work on Hollywood, where a writer needs to accommodate so many (often bizarre seeming) requests for changes, there is a need for the writer to disconnect at least a little bit from the created work. But, even so, when you are still at the point of bringing the work into being, that should not be a controlling factor. What should matter most at this point is to write what most inspires my own heart.
So today, I got my pep talk from myself.
(This text was also posted on the Scribblerworks LiveJournal blog.)
“Pastel Blasphemy #2” is a piece of digital artwork to represent the experience described. It does not resemble the original artwork mentioned, other than playing with the spectrum.
The Creature took a nose-dive (face-dive? he doesn’t have a nose) off the hutch shelf of my desk last night. I guess he didn’t think I really needed that sixth game of Spider Solitaire. As he points out here, I could be writing or working on the artwork for that comic book short story of mine. He’d kept quiet the last couple of weeks, but I think he blew a gasket when I switched from Spider Solitaire to Majong Titans.
On the other hand, I have been working on the story beats for the pilot script re-write!
My friend Donald Williams was out in the Los Angeles area in order to speak at a seminar sponsored by the Southern California C.S. Lewis Society. The seminar was most of the day on Saturday, and unfortunately I had a conflicting committment across town. So I didn’t get to go hear Don talk about CSL and mediavalism – something that would have been right up my alley.
Don Williams
However, I did get to see Don on Sunday afternoon/evening. Edie Dougherty had helped organize the seminar, and her brother Don Brown and his wife hosted a potluck BBQ at their house for Don. A small company gathered, and I happily made the drive out to Glendora for the event.
Edie Dougherty
Edie relaxing after we’d finished dining.
(Okay side matter: from Hollywood, Glendora is actually inland, and yet to me, living in Hollywood, it’s outward. It’s also a slightly longer drive than I calculate. I always underestimate the amount of time it takes to drive there. But I arrived, and that’s what matters.)
It was a very pleasant occasion for conversation. Diana Glyer managed to get there for a time (even though it was Father’s Day), so it was nice to see her as well.
Diana Glyer
She had only just gotten back from one trip, so it was an achievement to get out and socialize at all. I was happy to see her because she said she won’t be attending Mythcon this summer. She said she’s been traveling so much she just needed some “home time” – which makes excellent sense.
And then there was Lynn.
Lynn Maudlin
I haven’t had a chance to talk with Lynn since Loscon last November. I always enjoy seeing her. I’m always nagging her about getting her music onto CD. She had done an album on cassette way back when and I would love a copy in a more durable form. But she’s in the same boat as many other creative people: processing the masters for burning the CDs would cost money she doesn’t have right now. I do hope she can find a way, since I love her music.
I didn’t get a photo of Edie’s brother Don and his wife. I’m out of practice as a shutterbug. But they were wonderful hosts, and fun to talk with. “Edie’s Don” has a Segway, which he showed off to me. I’ve been fascinated by the contraptions ever since they were released, so the opportunity to check it out close up was irresistable. It’s a strange sensation standing up on it, because it does compensate and respond to your leaning very sensitively. And the intuitive response to standing on it with this pole in front of you is to lean back a bit … so it backs up. It seems to me that the engineering is designed to keep the foot platform directly below your center of weight. Turning is a very easy twist on the left handle, and it rotates very tightly, within the circumference of its “footprint”. So even if you were in the midst of a lot of people, turning around would not require additional space beyond what you already occupied. I really liked it. But even he said “It’s an expensive toy.” If one could park it somewhere safely, or lock it up in a locker, it’d be cool to have one. I’d scoot over to Hollywood & Highland or the Cinerama Dome, instead of driving, for instance. But I really appreciated Don’s demonstrating it and letting me try it.
Conversation ranged generally over several topics, which was a pleasure. I also had a “sounding board” chat with Don Williams about the panel we’ll be doing at Mythcon, about poetry in fantasy literature. Of course, we also talked about poetry in general, and the poets that influenced each of us. For me, that would mostly be Shakespeare and Keats.
I kept lingering over conversation, even after Diana left (to get back to hubby Mike and daughter Sierra). But eventually I did get back on the road, reaching home around 10:30. All in all a lovely day in excellent company.
I have recently created a Patreon page, where I will be posting about my works-in-progress, and indeed sharing draft chapters as things move forward.
I want to express my deepest thanks to those who have joined the Gold Level of my noble Patrons.
Bradley Rader
