Here’s a quick little poem for your enjoyment. I bet you can’t guess when it was written.
 

Early Tuesday Morning

The moon
hung in the sky,
round and pale,
under cover
of some wispy clouds.

 For your enjoyment, here’s an absurd little poem of mine:

The Raven

Raven;
Joy in the shade of space.
Fear of the unseen enemy.
The battle is fought,
the dark is won.
Nightshade triumphant!

It occurs to me that I’ve not posted a new poem in quite some time. As I’ve started running Google ads to promote my poetry writing, it seems prudent to put some fresh poems online. This post does just that.

This poem, “Genocide City Zone,” was originally published in the Voices literary magazine of Rock Valley College. In fact, it was written specifically for inclusion in that journal. I reprinted “Genocide City Zone” in my chapbook, Angst & Wrath.

The name “Genocide City Zone” was rejected as a level name in one of the original Sonic the Hedgehog games on the Sega Genesis. When I read about the name being cut from the game, it stuck with me. Several months later, this poem was produced. The title and theme is very reminiscent of a Rush song (Red Sector A, anyone?).

So, without further ado, I present you “Genocide City Zone.”
 

Genocide City Zone

Welcome to the genocide city zone

I’m sure you’ll enjoy your stay

We’ve been killing folks here

All the live-long day

If you want to join us

You’ll have to pay the price

Your soul’s the cost, so ante up

C’mon and shoot the dice

 
Welcome to the genocide city zone

Everyone’s dying to get in

Ignore your guilty conscience

Though Jesus says it’s sin

If you do not join us

You’ll have to pay the price

Sacrifice your life tonight

To our deadly new device

 
Welcome to the genocide city zone

Check out time is soon

We only stop once a day

To eat our lunch at noon

If you want to join them

We’re happy to grant your request

Just remember this one thing:

We kill ‘em with the best

In case anyone out there was wondering, I’ve got a few projects I’m working on right now. Here’s a random list of what’s going on:

• Battlepixies! Battlepixies! is a pencil-and-paper role-playing game I’ve been tinkering with for about five years now. It’s a role-playing game of fey combat. Battlepixies! is a very silly game, meant to be a light-hearted game to run between serious RPG campaigns. I’d like to get it finished by the end of next year at the latest.
• Double-secret Project #1 I hate to pull a Wheaton, but I’m sworn to secrecy on this really cool project I’m working on. I’ll post more details as soon as I can. Trust me: it’s awesome!
• Serve Yourself My zombie short story that’s quickly becoming a zombie novella. I’m hoping to trim the final word count enough to submit it to the First Time Dead anthology from May December Publications.
• Cold Sun My pencil-and-paper role-playing game set in the aftermath of catastrophic hubris. Take one part alternate history, one part science fiction, one part global climate change debate, equal parts human arrogance and ignorance, toss in a dash of psychic powers and genetic mutation, plus something… else, and you have the recipe for the game. Coming in 2011 or 2012, most likely.
• A Novel It’s a novel with a controversial topic that I’d prefer not to talk about until it’s done. I’m sort of ashamed that this story came from my brain, but I suppose I can blame it on the Muse… or be burned at the stake. Arg.
• Exercises in Exorcism I’m working on poems to be included in my second chapbook as inspiration strikes. I hope to have enough new material by year’s end, but it may not be until the middle of next year. I’ve been spending on lot of time lately on prose, and the ars poetica fail me right now.

So, that’s what I’m working on currently. Artists, photographers, fellow poets and writers: what are you doing? Please, leave a comment about your WIP list (or lack thereof). I want to know what my comrades-in-art are up to!

If you’re interested in being a “beta reader” or playtester for any of my upcoming stuff, get in touch with me. Email, Twitter, or Facebook are all acceptable forms of communication. Thanks!

Disclaimer: The following post contains intentionally vague (ha-ha, get it?) references to people and companies. All names have been excluded to protect privacy and professionalism. Enjoy!

Last week, I was solicited by an interactive entertainment company for a 42,000-word writing project. They asked me to provide them with a quote for services, in addition to samples of my writing. I put together what seemed (to me) to be a reasonable quote based on info I gathered, and provided the requested writing samples from some of the writing I did for the Aegis Studios RPG book, Virulence.
 
I did not get the job.
 
I did, however, get a rejection letter. It came in the form of an email, and while it praised my work as “professional and something [they] feel would work well,” it also informed me they’d decided to go with another writer.
 
I understand completely. I’m also not upset in the slightest.
 
First, I understand why an established company would be hesitant to hire on a fairly novice writer. The project would have been written in screenplay format, as most video games are. Though the screenplay format is (seemingly) not difficult to adapt to, I have no prior experience with it, other than reading how it’s constructed.

Second, I’m actually quite pleased that I was even solicited. How could I be upset about getting rejected for a job I didn’t even inquire about? The fact is, until last week, I didn’t even know this gig was out there. So, I’m honored I was considered, delighted that my work was well-received, and encouraged that I am “someone that [they] would definitely consider for any future opportunities.”

Of course, the phrases I’ve quoted (which are directly from the rejection email) could be platitudes. Then again, what motivation would a professional design director have for blowing smoke up my ass? He could have just as easily told me “sorry, but after careful consideration, we’ve decided to go with someone else. Thanks for your time.” I will operate under the assumption that this guy was sincere, and that I’ve made a contact that could lead to some seriously fun, seriously paid work in the future.

So, thanks for my first official rejection letter as a serious writer. I’m sure it won’t be my last. Rejection letters, it seems, are like lovers to writers: you will probably have a few over the course of your life, but you’ll never forget your first. This failure, like the failure of my first serious romance, is actually a success, because it means I explored my horizons and expanded my knowledge of life. Something that makes you a better person cannot be a failure, but merely a setback at most.

OK, enough waxing philosophic: time to get back to work.
 
Time to get back to writing.

For the record, I love ancient Greek literature/ mythology. I read Oedipus Rex for what has to be at least the twentieth time the other day. I started reading it again mostly because I wanted to double-check the spelling of “Tiresias,” but once I started, I had to finish the story. Of course, I knew what was coming, but watching the tragedy unfold, seeing the inevitability of it, is what makes the story great.

For your reading pleasure, I present a poem that features some Greek mythological references. I hope you enjoy it. As always, your feedback is welcome and encouraged.

The Soft, Cool Blanket of Night

wrap me in the soft, cool blanket of night.
 
waning,
the moon peers down at me
like the heavy-lidded eye of some cyclops.
 
and if I be lost like poor Odysseus,
cloak me in the soft, warm wool of night.
 
and if my eyes fail me like old Tiresias,
stitch the cloth with the needles of the king,
and wrap me in the soft, cool wisdom of night.
 
and if the trees reach out for me
like the souls of the dead,
blanket me in the soft, cool mists of the Styx.
 
wrap me in the soft, cool blanket of night.

The last few days I’ve been dealing with a malfunctioning car and a brief but intense illness. It’s been less than pleasant. Add the Chicago Blackhawks playing like crap in the first round of the Stanley Cup playoffs, and losing all my phone numbers and email addresses in Address Book (and thus my iPhone too), and this week looks pretty bad on paper.

There’s a silver lining though: another page in my novel finished. It’s been slow going, and I could probably find more time to write, but I feel good about the words. Do I think this novel will be sellable? Probably not. But it will be written, and that’s more important to me.

So, to anyone out there who thinks they can write a book: do it. There’s no better advice on writing than that. You will suck at first. You will get better if you try. That’s all.

Here’s a new poem for  everyone. I’m in no way qualified to write this poem, as I am not a Native American. I do, however, believe that the natives of North America have been dealt one of the worst hands in history. Their systematic slaughter by waves of white immigrants has been hollowed out of the history books and replaced with the “Maize; you call it ‘corn’” bullshit we get fed in grade school.
 
I apologize if some of the language I’ve used offends you. It’s my hope that, by using such abrasive terms, I’ll get your attention and you’ll think about what it means to be any color but red in America.
 
For the record, I do not advocate a native uprising, a la Shadowrun, but Indians deserve better than fucking casinos and firewater. Your comments are welcome, unless they’re hateful, bigoted ignorance.
 
This Land Is My Land
 
Niggers and spics,

kikes and Micks

(don’t forget the krauts and deggos, too)

live on land that belongs to you.

If your skin is red,

you’re better off dead

than deal with this sordid affair.

No one told you caveat venditor, “Let the seller beware.”

 
You trusted the limeys and frogs to boot:

they used that foot to grind you to soot.

Ashes and soot of once-proud nations:

now there’s strife in tribal relations.

 
Anima spirits, totems, and tools:

the white man has played you for fools.

Soon, painted faces gather in band,

proudly declaring, “This land is my land.”

Now that I’ve finished the outline for my first novel, I’ve realized that I hate the main character. Stanley Laroche is a douchebag. Stanley Laroche is an asshole. If Stanley Laroche were an ice cream flavor, he’d be pralines and dick (thanks for that one, Mike Myers!)

But I have to tell Stanley’s story anyway. Even though I hate him, I made him. I owe it to him to let the world know what an absolute scumbag-fuckface-turd he is. To do otherwise would be to abort a ten-year-old.

Sometimes, as a writer, you have to tell a story you don’t like. Sometimes a character is so vile that you have second thoughts about bringing them into the world. Sometimes you question yourself, wondering how you could have created such a monster.

Paging Dr. Frankenstein…

It’s been a while since I posted something, so I thought it would be prudent to put together a quick update on what’s going on in my life right now.

The Olympics are over. I’m quite happy with Team USA’s performance in hockey. Both the men’s and women’s teams medaled, which is excellent. The men, especially, should be proud of their performance. For  a team that no one thought would make it to the medals round to go to the gold game and then force overtime on the Canadian team is quite exceptional. The real superstar of Olympic hockey is not Sidney Crosby with his reputation saving, national hero overtime goal, however: it’s Jonathan Toews of the Blackhawks. In seven games, he racked up an impressive eight points (seven of them on assists) and had a plus/ minus of plus-9. He also lead Team Canada in faceoffs won, “winning just under 65 percent of his draws,” according to the Fighting Sioux website. Wow! I’m sure glad that he’s a Blackhawk.

I have managed reduce my weight to 215, a net loss of five pounds from my starting weight. I’ve also gone down one notch on my belt just the other day. Slowly but surely I’m making progress on my weight loss goal. It’s not happening as quickly as I might like, but I am making progress, so I’m happy.

My daughter has to wear glasses now. She’s only two years old. They seem to be helping a lot and she doesn’t fuss with them much, so I guess it could be worse. Her eye still wanders a bit, usually when she’s tired, but she goes back to the ophthalmologist in a few months. I’m sure her current pair of glasses will not be her last. Thankfully, we paid less than $40 for them, so if she does need another pair (or two!) before the end of the year it’s no big deal.

My debut poetry book, Angst & Wrath, is published with about as much success as I’d envisioned it would have. Thanks to those of you who like me enough to buy a book of poetry. Let’s face it: America is not the culturally enlightened Mecca that, say, France is. I’m well aware that poetry is dead and that any asshat with a word processor can spew out a book of shitty poems. That’s OK though: I published the book for me.

On a related note, I’ve finished writing my first children’s book. The project is now in my wife’s very talented hands. It’s short and simple and will be beautiful once Tiffanie is done with her part of it. We’re planning on self-publishing for now, though I may be interested in shopping it around to some agents too. The title of the book is “You Can’t Tickle A Goldfish” and should be released later this year or early next year.

Thanks to a scheduling change, I am once again participating in a regular role-playing game session. I have become a full-time player in Alex Rodriguez’s Shadowrun 4th Edition game. Aside from a few minor issues, it’s been going great. I’m honestly just happy to be back at the table, rolling dice like the good old days.

That’s about it for current events in my life. My friend Dan Sehr, who’s in the Air Force, is leaving in a few days for an extended overseas tour. He’s been back in town on leave the last few weeks and it’s been great to see him again. I wish him the best of luck and hope he comes back safe and secure. We all appreciate what you do, Dan. Thanks for standing up and doing what’s right.