brian m. latimer

printedandbound:

Kurt Vonnegut, writing in response to Jonathan Franzen’s April Folio on American novelists, “Perchance to Dream,” claims that “Novelists are people who believe they can dampen their neuroses by writing make-believe. We will keep on doing that no matter what, while offering loftier explanations.” This makes Vonnegut look humble and lovable, but as a response to the stuff Franzen was talking about is total horseshit.

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November 11, 2009, 9:41pm

How Junot Diaz, Kazuo Ishiguro and Orhan Pamuk Write

printedandbound:paperbackgirl:92y:(via anin)

Mr. Pamuk writes by hand, in graph-paper notebooks, filling a page with prose and leaving the adjacent page blank for revisions, which he inserts with dialogue-like balloons. He sends his notebooks to a speed typist who returns them as typed manuscripts; then he marks the pages up and sends them back to be retyped. The cycle continues three or four times.

November 09, 2009, 7:37pm

Left : Before
Right: After

By Mark Doyle

Problem: How do you entice readers to start reading a monthly comic with issue #21?
Solution: Make it look like #1.

Brian [Wood] gets a lot of well-deserved praise for being a great writer. From the damaged streets of the DMZ to the frigid wastelands of Northlanders, Brian brings heart, drama and truth to all of his stories.

[…]

See Brian [Wood] thinks about [design, aesthetic, how to keep a story accessible without bogging it down with over explanation, or making it so simple that the story gets boring]. He talks to retailers and readers, finds out what works, what doesn’t, and incorporates all of it into his work…

Source, missing parts, & hi-res.

I’m glad comics have gotten complex enough to allow stories like DMZ to exist.* I guess there’s the obligatory nods to Watchmen’s Hugo Award that might have effected an editor’s judgment in letting something like this come to pass w/r/t the It’s not Superheroes? It won’t sell mentality that (while perhaps not all-encompassing) was probably very popular Pre-Watchmen.** I like to think that if something is good people will get it, but that rarely tends to be the case.

Wood seems to have a tight grasp on what works for him, and that’s a line that I constantly find myself straying from, often in the name of “experimentation”. Most of the time it leads straight to the trash bin, but the intent is always to make whoever reads the things I’m writing do a little bit of work while getting at what I’m trying to say. The trick is to make them work without them realizing it.

Unfortunately meandering sentences or complex delivery forms are no substitute for substance, and often a mistake gets made that their presence indicates a lack of it. I think I’m going to re-read these comics (and probably Demo as well) and give myself some homework.

_______
*I’ve only read through the first five or six issues of Northlanders, so I don’t know what kind of things go on there, but Historical Fiction in comic form about VIKINGS? With this guy at the helm, I don’t really see how it can fail.
**Which sends us FURTHER BACK in time to Pre-Superhero comics. Pirates, anyone? [Ha. Ha.]

November 04, 2009, 10:02pm

At some point during the year 1970, Kurt Vonnegut walked up to a chalkboard in a lecture hall containing just over 200 people and, on a blank slate, wrote the following:

? ! .

“These three bits of punctuation are the basic outline of a three act play or story.” He said.

A student asked if the period could also be a Dot, Dot, Dot.

Vonnegut nodded, and continued to talk, moving from the flesh to the soul of the writing. He read from Joseph Conrad’s The Nigger of Narcissus, in which Conrad said:

“…the artist appeals to that part of our being which is not dependent on wisdom; to that in us which is a gift and not an acquisition - and, therefore, more permanently enduring. He speaks to our capacity for delight and wonder, to the sense of mystery surrounding our lives, to our sense of pity and beauty and pain; to the latent feeling of fellowship with all creation…”

He read the passage with some feeling and then he said that, a few years later, “Conrad said that was all bunk, which is kind of an anticlimax.”

November 02, 2009, 9:29pm

Photo Source

Even if you do.

And not to mention just how much it is to leave behind. It’s so much. You’ve got all of this life bound up around you now, and then this one thing comes along like this and sweeps you up in it’s simplicity and promise practically demanding of you This was what you were waiting for! …but lets think about this for a second. This isn’t like a vacation. You’re not just moving out of a house or something. Really think about this.

I know how it makes you think of all the things you ever wanted and all the things you think you’ll have when you do it: the dreams and the quiet, and how perfect everything will be with the way you see that Future-Self of yours. I know what you’re thinking. It feels unreal, and you’re trying to be rational about it. These are the right things to consider. These are all the notes you need to play, the fears you need to fear and the secrets you need to let go. I know it because I’ve been in your place before.

It’s so much though. It’s so many moments to fill up and you’re so impossibly forgetful. I know you think you don’t want them, but that’s not the way to think about this.

It’s not that I think you can’t do it, but you haven’t given this world a chance; you think you’ve had all the smiles and tears this place has got to offer and now it’s time to move on. But you need to trust me when I say this: You’re not ready.

Someday - and you’ll know when - you will be. Someday you’ll wake up and you’ll step out into the weather and look up in the sky and it might be so bright you have to lift your hand to stare at the sun through your fingers, it might be snowing and you’ll listen to the ground crunching under your feet, or you’ll hide yourself under a nylon halo with the rain so heavy above you and the wind will push you so hard you crash into the sidewalk…

When you’re right for this, you won’t have the uncertainty that knots up your stomach and snaps at you. You won’t worry about your options. You won’t dawdle. When this is what you really need you’ll dive right in and meet the truth with tears in your eyes and you might look behind you but you won’t even think about stepping back.

October 28, 2009, 5:51pm

wordsearch:

So.

Extended deadlines are pretty much due by the weekend. Please send in your awesomeness.

Spread the word.

-Lylynn

Last chance to get something in for issue #1!
Words, pictures, and whatever lovely combinations of the two you might come up with are all accepted.
Or more directly: “Anything that can be printed on a piece of paper [has] a 99.9% chance of making it.”

Wordsearch is a bi-coastal, online and print zine.
wordsearchzine@gmail.com

October 06, 2009, 3:43pm

***

S: It looks like it hurts.

T: …

S: Um, does it hurt?

T: Of course it hurts. What kind of a question is that?

S: Well I mean it looks like it hurts but I thought it might be one of those things where it looks worse than it is you know?

T: …

S: This is the last time, right?

T: I’m not a fortune teller.

S: What?

T: I said ‘I’m not a fortune teller.’

S: I heard what you said. What does that mean?

T: It means I can’t promise it won’t happen again. It could happen in two weeks. It could happen in two weeks or a year and a half from now, or it could never happen again. I don’t know. If I had any say in it it wouldn’t have had to happen the first time, but it did. And no one knows how these things will turn out. I can’t predict the future. Are you going to ‘make sure it doesn’t happen’ like you did the last time?

S: Well thanks-

T: Fuck you.

S: …Good to know you’ve got that much confidence in yourself.

T: Fuck you!

S: …

T: …

S: …

T: I’m sorry.

S:No. You’re not, I can tell. Don’t say you are when you aren’t.

T: …

S: Look, I’m tired. I’d be going to sleep right now but I think this is important. I don’t mean to snap, really. Friday I can pay the rent and we’ll fill up the cabinets yeah? That’ll be good right? We can move soon too. We can go somewhere where there’s snow sometimes instead of all this sun. It’s boring, don’t you think? We can get a place with big windows and neighbors we never have to talk to if we don’t want. How does that sound? We can go wherever you like.

T: It doesn’t really matter.

S: Well what the fuck does that mean?

***

C: This will be good for you.

R: I don’t know.

C: I do. Trust me. I’ve seen you on your own. It’s important. Really.

R: …

C: Look, I’m not saying to up and quit when things get tough, but this is senseless. If things get messed up again like this I want you to leave. I know It’s not like the problem will have solved itself, but I think this is as close to a solution as we’re going to get.

R: It’s not that simple.

C: You’re right. It’s not. After that’s all said and done with we’ll still have this uncomfortable-familiarity that people like us get shafted with. Plus I won’t have any of what you’re leaving on me. I’ll have started something new. You’ll have your ends to tie up. You’ll have the nights where you worry about whatever it is that you might worry about and I’ll most likely have no concerns of the sort, except those you bring to me. I’ll take the time to console you if that’s what you want - my dad used to have war flashbacks; it’s not the same thing, not even a little, but I understand what grief does to a person - other than that I’ll have nothing to remind me of what’s going on now, and I’m sorry for that but you said you wanted change.

R: …

C: I suppose I’m asking a lot of you. I don’t know if this is something you want, but it’s something I want, and that’s all I can offer you.

R: Of course it’s something I want. If it wasn’t we wouldn’t be having this problem. It’s just a lot to deal with. It’s a lot to think about and there’s a lot to get ready for. I’m not this person. I’m not the kind who does these things or takes these risks. There is so much I would never do or make happen that’s happened. It’s a lot to worry about.

C: I can take some of this from you. The work, I mean. I could say or do things for you so you don’t have to.

R: …

C: Well?

R: No.

C: ‘No’? No what? No you don’t want me to?

R: No. You can’t.

***

V: I’ve sort of got a headache, can I lay down?

E: Sure, sure go ahead. So when did it happen?

V: A few weeks ago I think. I don’t really remember.

E: I can imagine.

V: We were talking, things were good, you know? I don’t really get it. Like I said I don’t remember much, so I might have been the one who started it. I wish I knew for certain. I remember the After just fine, it’s the Before I’m having trouble with.

E: Were you hit?

V: No, no. It was nothing like that. That I’m sure of, though you wouldn’t know it by looking at me. I’d remember being struck though. I’m sure of that. This was something else.

E: Like what?

V: I’m sorry?

E: Well of what you remember what did you say? What was said to you?

V: I don’t really want to talk about it. My head is killing me.

E: Is everything alright?

V: Look at me, what do you think?

E: I think you’re leaving me hanging. I can’t help you if you don’t help me. We need to talk about what you remember so I can help you figure out the parts that you don’t.

V: I know, I know, but I get the feeling I’m better off leaving it alone.

E: I deal with these things all day honey. You’re not better off. Trust me. Talk to me. It will be easier for you if you talk about it. It always is. I mean, we’re sort of in this together, you know? I went through the same thing. We should try to talk about it. Maybe I can help you. I like to think I’m good at these things. People tell me I am. Please, talk to me? Please? Hello? Can you just acknowledge me? Please? Hello… Oh God. Someone get help. Please. Hey! Hey you!

***

September 29, 2009, 2:58am

To whom it may concern,

Now hear me proper, I’ve been there. I’ve had that sleep that ended when your best dreams would start, that lasted as long as it took to blink. I’ve had that alarm sickness. Talk radio gunshots mainlined at the open-gate. I’ve sat in cold shock after the heat’s burned off, hurting myself awake. I know it. I know it.

I’ve done the time. I’ve swung. I’ve formed. I’ve cradled conscious that fades in and out between the weight of your arm and the spark of iron on tin. I’ve felt an apex screaming the words I’d never understood from a slow fury building in the cycles: Wake up.

And then there’s the sinking.

When you see it you’ll know that this is you. When the walls beg you. When what seemed like the end is barely the middle. When outside the greys match the rainclouds to the asphalt and the day enlists a fog to set between them. In their tender way they took me in

-Fold.
-Crumple.

and I lost.

Once collapsed they found me whispering equations through black breath. They found me sleepwalking, comatose through hurricanes and slogging through curtained rain. Swept off in the flow. Irretrievable. I’m still here.

Regards.

September 28, 2009, 4:21pm

breathethroughyreyes:

A Day, A Photo

Apparently I need to develop a style.  A unique way of looking at the world that makes my creativity a more recognizable commodity.  I have been shooting without thinking for a while now, or at least attempting to, and I think that to develop a style I would have to have a conscious philosophy.

I’ve been trying to think, trying to formulate some reason for taking photographs other than I like to.  The more I try to philosophize about something so strange I fall asleep faster.

I think identifying motives is tricky enough.  Am I trying to make money or am I trying to make beauty?  Can there be both?  Will I only be able to produce beauty if I shun the physical world?

I made this photograph out of training, recognizing that multiple arms in the same location looks kind of cool.  But once again, I become disappointed in the lack of drama, mystery, etc. that I have brought to the picture.  I think I am afraid of being boring.

I’m far from being able to offer answers or advice on the subject, but I’ve had every single one of these concerns about writing. Repeatedly. I can never figure out if I’ve got some kind of ‘greater goal’ I’m working toward, or if it’s just something I enjoy that I might look to earn a living with sometime. Everything is always a fine line to tread.

September 26, 2009, 1:44am

While the dust settled inside empty chambers
and the notes stood unvibrating
and the smoke took its turn Russian-Rouletting breath into eruption
and blank stares punctuated by buckling knees made their entrances and exits
and the dry earth pushed chests inward, heaving collapse to kiss the ground ‘hello’
the credits rolled.

September 18, 2009, 3:47am