Troll School

The wild and wooly world of the Internet has provided the human race with a burgeoning treasury of knowledge and information, beamed directly to our computers faster than our minds can process it. It is important to remember, in this fast-paced digital age, that no amount of facts, critical thinking or indisputable evidence should ever get in the way of winning an argument.

Certain aspects of debate – such as not knowing what one is talking about, arguing more from emotion than logic, and/or simply making things up out of thin air – form the rock-solid foundation of making an unassailable point, and should not be forgotten in the advent of technology that provides for immediate fact checking

It is thus in the spirit of public service that we now present to you, our reader, the finer points of winning an argument online, or, as we like to call it, TROLL SCHOOL.

Lesson One: Semantics.
The reason, intelligence, and wealth of facts any enemy poster may have will be completely undone with the use of semantics.
It doesn't matter if said opponent is a constitutional scholar with a PhD. in history, one single word will undo them. For example:
"America is a democracy".
This falsehood is ripe for the pickings with the response:
"WRONG, d_ _ _kface! America is a republic!"

The fact that the enemy poster never implied that the US is a commonwealth, a giant state, a kingdom, et al notwithstanding - he's a total commie, and he just demonstrated it.


Join us under the bridge next Sunday for a new lesson. Until then, keep on trollin'!

Untitled:Foreword

The following is the first installment of a fiction serial that I started writing for one of my other sites, 1000 Follies. I decided that it is a more natural fit here. After running the first III Parts, I will start adding to the story little-by-little. Please come back for Part II.

FOREWORD

It is with honest pleasure that I introduce this collection of columns by Margaret Millet. I do so as her friend as well as her Publisher. I worked with Margaret for approximately eight months, during the period that she wrote for my newspaper, The Estimator. It was in that publication that all of the pieces in this compilation first appeared, from September 2006 until March 18, 2007.

I met Margaret about 3 weeks before sending her on her stint to Canada. She impressed me immediately, and with great clarity, as a woman and writer of depth, talent, intelligence and vision. I felt, at the time, that The Estimator had fallen too far away from my initial goals: it had become stale, boring, and perilously close to extinction. In an effort to shake new life into its tired bones, I mass hired an interesting bunch of characters from all sorts of small publications. The Indie Artists, as they liked to call themselves, succeeded in infusing vigorous blood and energy into The Estimator.

Margaret came to me from a tiny magazine that folded a few months later. The job did not pay her bills, something that bothered her to practically no degree at all. She was a woman in love with words. She thought it privilege enough just to be allowed to set her thoughts to paper. Readership was not really something she thought about. I changed that when I sent her to Montreal. Instantly, she had 300,000 people reading her columns: it rather quickly became their privilege. I can think of no one else that I would have even considered sending to another country, with no guidelines or subject matter. All that she had to do was write, steadily and well, to the tune of 3 columns a week. She managed this with beauty, expertise, and an entirely unique voice. Margaret wrote incessantly while up North. I am not sure that she did anything else, apart from the charming perambulations mentioned in her columns.

Although our relations were always warm, considerate, and full of humour, i never got to know Margaret in any intimate capacity. It is my belief that she had given up on the notion of a one-on-one connection with others. She channeled that loss into her writing and, so doing, intimately connected with her readers in a way that would probably not have been possible otherwise.

Margaret Millet, by the way, was not her real name. She chose it for its alliterative quality. Even after I hired her, and gave her that wide readership on a silver platter, she declined to use her given name, which was perfectly lovely. It is not my place to divulge her true identity, so we will continue to call her Margaret Millet, a name that gave her real pleasure.

I sincerely hope that you enjoy the works contained within these covers. I was proud to print them a few years ago, and I remain so. If anything, my enjoyment has increased over time. I hope that you take away something of the intelligence, artistry, and whimsy with which Margaret endowed her writing and her person.

GIBSON OLIPHANT

NEW YORK CITY

July 19, 2009

"Writing is the best way to talk without being interrupted."-Jules Renard

Fiction! Fiction! Coming Soon to A Small Press Life

As part of our on-going expansion, we will be adding Fiction to ASPL. There are no genre limitations to what will be published: it simply has to be good stuff, full of Indie Spirit. If you would like to see one of your stories in this space, please e-mail us.

Networking for the Anti-Social: Welcome

I am not a joiner. I am not exuberantly social. The concept of mingling with a group of strangers, no matter how like-minded, is nearly enough to make my skin crawl. When I find myself in such situations, if I am expected to do one thing I am overcome by a perverse desire to do the opposite. Fortunately, my good manners usually prevent anything disastrous from happening; but the very thought that certain things are expected of me, no matter how inconsequential, makes me ill at ease. Yes, I can be that unpredictable. Yet I know that I am not alone in this: it is one of the great universal truths that small talk makes people uncomfortable. Even when a common goal is at hand--say, furthering one's career--this type of witless chit-chat can be tedious, painful and boring.



Things were no different when I was a school-girl. I dropped out of Brownies after a year. The delight that I took in donning my little brown pinafore--I still remember the day that I picked it out of a JCPenney catalogue--was not enough to hold my interest. I tired of making useless crafts from Popsicle sticks; I already knew why it is important to be kind to old people and animals; and, most telling, I had little interest in being friends with most of the girls in my troop. Part of this was due to my natural shyness. Although I will never be gregarious--not even with half-a-dozen drinks in my system--time, experience and circumstances have largely eradicated the extreme form of shyness that I suffered from as a child. The rest, however, is a result of what I would call a personality quirk; you might call it rudeness or self-absorption. While I try not to judge people, I am as guilty as anyone when it comes to impressions; I am even worse when it comes to the after-effect of such decisions. Simply put, if I do not find you interesting, then the conversation is over; it is unlikely I will come back for more.



I was this way even at the tender age of 7, and quite possibly sooner. Life is too short to be spent in long pointless conversation with strangers. This is where Alicia and sociability part. Thus, I have not been an active member of anything since 1981. Fortunately, technology has come a long way since then: it is now possible, and perfectly acceptable, to network and market yourself solely through what our forebears would probably consider wickedly artificial means. Thank you, Internet. You were meant for people like me.



Lest you get the wrong idea, I will spend approximately one paragraph expounding on my personality and social choices. I am no hermit. I enjoy going out. I do not balk at meeting new people. I like finding friends, expanding my circle, and experiencing interesting things. I am not typing these words in a dark room in my parents' basement. I am a modern, sophisticated, witty woman who just so happens to have no penchant for listless small-talk, coupled with the attention span of a ferret and the patience of a 2-year-old.





I know that I have stated this before, but truth bears repeating: the Internet has been a major gift for writers. It has also, most unfortunately, sated the world with more hacks and untalented aspirants than I ever thought possible; that is the topic for another day. For those willing to forgo the old-school pleasure of holding their work in their hands, the Internet has opened up thousands of new venues. I, for one, have opted for a compromise-mix of the two, hawking my work to a combination of hard-copy periodicals and on-line magazines. In the area of marketing and networking, however, I fully embrace twenty-first century means.

Networking is, it seems, one of those necessary evils for any writer desirous of being read. It is tedious, time-consuming, and soul-and-creativity draining--unless you are one of those rare people who actually goes in for that sort of thing. Most of us are not. We just want to write, to express ourselves, to weave plot and words and philosophy together into one unique vision. The naked reality is, of course, that if we do not do it no one will. Suck it up, because writing is a business like--and unlike--any other. On the Internet, raw human contact is, naturally, kept to a minimum--which can be quite nice when you are essentially whoring your most personal goods out to a bunch of nameless, judgmental strangers. You can also do it at any time of day or night. You do not have to get dressed up--or even dressed. You can edit how you present yourself down to the last crossed t and comma. Presentation is all in the words--exactly what writers are most comfortable with.

There are myriad places on the web to market and network yourself: finding the forums, forms and communities that are best for you takes a lot of effort. Networking for the Anti-Social is going to shine a hot little light on some of these sites. It is up to you to try them on for fit.

First Up (Next Time): Thirty-Something Bloggers.

Shopping for the Bookworm: 1970's Pencil Case

Newly sharpened pencils are not just for students, nor are cases to keep them in the sole province of the teacher's pet. They are tools for a writer's trade. Technology aside, many of us still write the early drafts of stories or articles long-hand or, at least, jot down notes, ideas and phrases the old-fashion way. With the need for pencils comes the need for keeping them neatly together. My favourite stand-by, ETSY, has scads of pencil cases available. Many are hand-sewn fabric or leather; some are vintage. A quick search brings up 1,235 results.

My favourite of the current crop---which is apt to change daily--is a tin case dating back to 1970's Germany. The case--and the 5 white pencils that come with it--are by Eberhard Faber. At $39.50, it is a bit pricey but the case itself is a keeper. I love the the utilitarian appeal of the piece which, coming from Germany, is appropriate. It can be found at the Etsy shop of Spacejam.

Photo courtesy of Spacejam.

Shop: Spacejam

Where: etsy.com

What: Eberhard Faber pencils and case

Price: $39.50

Go HERE to find Spacejam's shop.

Love at First Site: The Selby

My introduction to The Selby came courtesy of the Asian Cajuns some nine months ago. With an 'aha!' born of discovering something fabulous, new, and unknown, I spent the majority of that afternoon meandering through the site's archives. The Selby--sumptuous, off-the-wall, and inspiring--is best enjoyed at a leisurely pace, with eyes practically glued to the screen. There is so much to take in; none of it should be missed.
Scrolling through The Selby is like flipping through a fabulous coffee-table book or being given a detailed, intimate tour of a home by its owner, followed by a wacky Q & A session and some finger-painting. Todd Selby--yes, he has a first name--takes stunning photographs of the abodes of creative-types: musicians, artists, designers, writers, etc.. Naturally, most of these people live in enviable locales: New York, Los Angeles, Paris, Milan and Sydney. Yet, it is no travel diary: the focus is always on the subject-at-hand and the nooks and crannies and knick-knacks of their most intimate surroundings.
I have always been fascinated by how other creative people live, or lived, from Colette to Amy Sedaris: our homes, to one extent or another, usually double as work-space, think tank, studio. Those lucky enough to be featured on The Selby are lucky for other reasons as well . They are always successful--or at least well-heeled--and dwell amidst above-average luxury. Yet, Todd Selby focuses his lens on the small details: books, ash-trays, framed art, shoes, figurines, plants. Because of this, it is not an endless, claustrophobic tour through a top-notch home magazine's features section. These artists are eclectic, unusual and genuinely inspirational--even the most cursory glance at the photographs reveals people living out their various and deeply artistic natures.
The Selby is not just straight-up photography. He paints each subject in a quirky, backwards-style and puts them through a hand-written Q & A so bizarre that Dali would be amused. It is a winning combination of whimsy, entertainment, visual delight and unconscious decorating advice.
Although I would love to take a peek into the places and spaces of artisans like myself--those who conjure creative surroundings (and artistic goods) with much less money at-hand--The Selby remains an interesting look at Bohemians of another sort.

The Selby-go Here.
The Selby's book-go Here.

BLAST YOU, HOLLYWOOD, YOU KNOW I'M RIGHT!!!

KM Scott

Hi.

Movies. They've inundated my life. No other form of media - no, not even cave paintings - have affected me the way the moving picture has. The culmination of this lifelong infatuation has given me an insight to movies like no other human can comprehend. As such, it is much my pleasure as my duty to break through the veil of chaos that surrounds the film industry at large and present to you, my hungry reader, the sliced and de-rinded fruit of my joy.

Arright, so to kick this thing off, I’m going to blahg about a phenomenon that Hackywood seems to have been obsessed about lately – remakes. This is the process, as you well know, of making a film based on a previously made film. This is not new. And, despite the horrifying ring of the collective moans that issue forth from the gab-o-sphere and associated forums whenever a remake is announced, it is not necessarily a bad idea. Some of the most famous and well-made films in history have been remakes, not the least of them The Magnificent Seven (based on Akira Kurosawa’s The Seven Samurai), John Carpenter’s The Thing (a slant on Howard Hawks’ The Thing From Another World, with a healthy dose of the original novella Who Goes There by John W. Campbell, Jr., which inspired the Hawks version), and 12 Monkeys (inspired by La jetée, by Chris Marker).

Sometimes those which the filmmakers call homages (or, if one feels particularly honest, rip-offs) to previous material may as well be remakes. Take Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, for example, essentially a timeworn tale of the murderous Thugee cult of India, dressed up in the Lucaspielbergian visual fantasticana, fed a big hunk of rip-snorting action, and played to its dizzying climax with the music of John Williams. This doesn’t make the film any less a good movie (Willie Scott does that job, and all by herself), but simply acknowledges a great story when it hears one, even if it’s over a century old.

This has not been happening recently.

Obviously, the folks of the Magic-Plated City are in the business of filmmaking for the money. The stunning amount of remakes in the last decade alone are a testament to this; there is an obvious benefit to making a big commercial endeavor with built-in name recognition. It started in earnest with Batman years ago (not a remake, to be exact, but an adaptation of a world-renown character), and has never stopped.

The staggering goofiness of it all is the apparent speculation on the part of Hollywood execs that modern audiences are so blissfully stupid that we can’t see what they are blatantly up to. Starting with Gloria back in the 90’s, and more recently Friday the 13^th, the Dream Machine has been reaching all the way, way back, as far as twenty years ago, to remake films that everyone has seen repeatedly, knows how they end, and were quite content with just the first one. One would think that since these original flicks were new enough at one time to inspire remakes that perhaps Hollywood would invest in new ideas, new writers, new talent that would produce a whole new title to exploit.

But, no. We get remakes. Retreads. Malibu Stacie with a New Hat. We’ve got remakes of movies nobody gave a damn about when the source material was new (Flash Gordon, 1980, to be remade by Stephen Sommers), multiple remakes of films that were …. okay, I guess (Freaky Friday, no less than THREE versions), and remakes of films that were hardly vintage to begin with - and I don’t mean remaking something from other countries or cultures, like Samurai, but more like the above mentioned Gloria (1980, 1999), or The Getaway (1972, 1994).

But there is a worser, far worser creature that skulks in the darkened hallways and deep sub-basements of our local movie theaters and pirated movie torrent sites. Yes, folx, ya’ll know what I’m talking about – the remake of the classic movie. I don’t mean simply old flicks that are aired on TCM all the time, no no –

I’m talking about the movies that taught movies how to be movies: Psycho. The Day The Earth Stood Still. The War of the Worlds. To call these movies misguided attempts to rake in cash via familiarity is giving far too much credit to the filmmakers: remaking these movies were entirely unnecessary, and an insult to the original pioneering filmmakers and audiences alike. Its as if some GIT (Guy In Tie) execu-honch walked up to the Mona Lisa and said, “Hey, how did Rembrandt or whoever expect to reach 18 to 49 year olds with a goofy-looking sorta half smile? I wanna see teeth, dammit, TEETH!”

To ‘update’ these venerable pieces with modern sensibilities is to wreck ‘em. They were films of their times, to be sure, but many of them had timeless messages that are relevant to even today’s reckless generation of hoodlums, miscreants, deviants, and, of course, baby boomers. The lesson from War? Technology does not make you superior. The lesson from Day? Stupid ideological arguments will be the death of us all if taken to far. The lesson from Psycho? If your choice is between an isolated little motel a ways from the highway in the desolate wilds of the Southwest, watched over by the empty eyes of a horrifying old house, and a Motel 6, go for the Motel 6. Said chain is not paying me a dime for advertising, but they’ll leave a light on for ya.

It has been said repeatedly, and I add my voice to the chorus, that if you’re going to remake movies, don’t remake the classics. Remake really, really good versions of bad films. Wanna see a good zombie flick? Make a movie about an invading species of aliens who infect the recently deceased in an attempt to overrun the human race. Lot’s a blood and innards for the gorehounds out there to watch. The original masterwork was called Plan 9 From Outer Space.

Hankerin’ for a gritty martial arts movie where two dedicated brothers punch, kick and chop their way through a relentless gang of equally talented thugs in order to rescue a damsel in distress? With Tony Jaa and some popular MMA dude who can speak dialogue without moving his lips when his co-stars talk? I don’t see anybody else making a Double Dragon movie. Why don’t you?

One does not set out to make crap. One either intends to make art, or sell merchandise. Excellent movies have been made because of both, as have turkeys. At least the guy who tried to make art can say he cared about his project and the intelligence of his audience. When you screw up trying to take advantage of people … well, you’ve seen Batman and Robin.

KMS

More to Love

I am thrilled, pleased and proud to announce that ASPL is adding another regular writer to its roster, KM Scott. He is a man of many talents and counts the following among his titles: artist, editor, writer, and publisher. Mr. Scott will bring an entirely different tone and perspective to this space, showing that there are as many takes on the small press life as there are artists to live them. Please check back shortly to read his first piece.

Now on Thirty-Something Bloggers

In an effort to pick up my networking pace, I can now be found on 'Thirty-Something Bloggers'. You can look me up under my full-name, Alicia Austen. Since I am using it as more of a marketing forum, I will only be doing 1 or 2 posts a week; still, it will be well worth your time. If you fit the obvious criteria, I encourage you to join this site filled with a variety of work by your contemporaries. If not, you can still stop by to read the blogs!

Go here to find out what all of the hoopla is about!

INSPIRATION BOARD-2 August 2009

1. Gala Darling (ICING)-Gala Darling is a pink-haired darling from the Southern Hemisphere. ICING is her irreverent, infectious, savvy and stunning blog. She brings readers her own juicy brand of completely-off-the-wall inspiration: encouraging one and all to celebrate their own nonpareil loveliness. She definitely practices what she preaches. Click here to check out her site.
2. Amado Sur Wine-This Brazilian Malbec is my current every-day favourite. After a few hours spend concocting and spinning words, a single glass of wine is a great reward and rejuvenatory.
3. Re-Reading Old Books-This is one of my favourite pastimes (after reading new books, of course). I believe that this justifies my large personal collection. I eventually return to most books, even re-reading certain volumes yearly. It is with amazement that I never cease to dig up new bits of enlightenment, shards of wisdom and gems of inspiration with every new perusal.
4. Networking-This does not come easily to me. I am not a joiner, never have been. While the distance of Internet socializing puts many people off, it is a boon for mildly anti-social people like me. In real life, you cannot hide a bad mood or irritability. On-line, I can further my career while even in the vilest state-of-mind.
5. Vintage dresses on EBAY-While my greatest passion is language, I am also a very visual person. I worked in the world of art galleries for a decade: colour and texture is my aesthetic strength. I have always loved vintage apparel, with certain periods taking natural precedence over others. Until recently, I never particularly cared for the '70's or '80's (perhaps because I was born in one decade and came of age in the other). EBAY, of all places, has helped me get past that distaste to a place of appreciation. I am amazed by the play of colour with pattern, especially in some of the '70's designs. There is actually a surprising softness to palette and pattern that I am currently finding quite inspirational.
6. I found this one courtesy of Gala Darling. Check out 'Copy Blogger' for some practical, truly helpful writing tips. Go there now!
7. "Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self."-Cyril Connolly.

Routines

I am, by nature, extremely organized. I love making lists. I love slashing my way through item after item of to-do's and need-to-be-done's. I have left every business I have ever worked for a more streamlined and efficient place. This superb track record starts falling apart in one very important area: my hollow, sorry excuse of a writing routine. I have, at my handy disposal, a lame set of reasons why it is so erratic. Let's investigate these.

1. I am not a morning person. I do realize that there is no pesky by-law of the writing code that says one must practice their craft in the a.m. Yet, so many writers choose the early hours of the day for their writing time. Day in and day out, they rise at disturbingly wee hours of the clock. I am not certain that I would have a fully functioning brain at, say, 5. Methinks that I would probably be a nasty, flaming bitch-- especially pre-pot of tea. Wordsmiths who are up and stringing together brilliant phrases before dawn just seem so dedicated and professional. Meanwhile, back at the loft, all I am interested in doing is rolling over and catching more not-strictly-necessary sleep.
2. I currently work 9 hour days, 10 if you throw in the commute. By the time I hobble through the door, drop my purse, fling my keys, walk the dog and put the kettle on, it is early evening. If I connect to the drug known as the Internet and DO NOT IMMEDIATELY BEGIN WRITING, then I easily lose another hour. At this point, it is 7 p.m. I most likely have 'The Golden Girls' on in the background. Those witty old ladies have been known to suck me in to their hyper-social sun-baked lives for endless episodes. Hello, 8. It is so nice to see you. I am sure that you get the idea. On a good work night, I can write 3 blog posts, edit my upcoming 'zine, and write a paragraph or two of fiction. Then there are the other 4.
3. If The Chef has the night off, then forget about it. I try to make my time off coincide with his schedule as 1)he insists that I not write 12 hours a day, 7 days a week and 2) it is too damn difficult to write with him in the flat. He talks back to the television. He strikes up conversations with me even when I am in the writing zone. He insists that I get up and move around, that I eat dinner....nothing of value gets done on these nights, creatively-speaking. This kills up to 2 nights a week.
4. Ah, weekends! Bliss! Sleeping in! Laziness! Socializing! Practicality: laundry, sweeping, cleaning counter tops and sinks. I have way too much to cram into 2 days/nights. Sometimes, I am a writing dynamo on Saturday and Sunday. I accomplish insane amounts of work. I am proud of myself. Then, on Monday, it is back to the same grind.

What, then, is a writer to do if she is in an especially fertile period? Right now, I am doing more projects than ever. I have blogs, the 'zine, a fictional serial and a rocking short story. I also have to network myself and market my product--all while managing this thing called a life. Everything that I am doing at this time is too good to be sacrificed or sold short. The only viable solution is to impose some kind of order on those things that can benefit most from it, including my writing schedule. I plan on trying a few different routines until I find the one that best fits my needs. First up? I am about to become one of those early risers.

I am not looking forward to this. I will never greet the morning with anything but a series of yawns and a sour look on my face. I do not believe that being genuinely perky or even nice is ever fully possible before 10 a.m. (2 hours into my regular work day). I hate being the first one out of bed: jealousy will abound against the sleeping one. Yet, I am game because--if it works--my writing will benefit immensely. I am also not talking about falling out of bed 2 hours early. No, I am starting with a quite doable 45 minutes which, taking into account making tea and rousing my mind, should leave approximately 30 minutes to write. I have attempted this sort of thing on 3 previous occasions, but for different reasons. None were a resounding success.

The first two times involved "The Artists Way" by Julia Cameron. If you have ever followed that program, you already know what it is I am talking about. Essentially, you get up early and write your thoughts, stream-of-conscious-style, for 3 pages. My first attempt at this, some dozen years ago, lasted a few weeks. The second go-round, circa 2004, lasted approximately 5 minutes. The third time involved the lovely Gala Darling of 'ICING' which is a delectable, Technicolor dream of a blog. She ran a challenge group for the entire month of February. It was up to you to decide what you wanted to change/improve in your own life. She simply provided a forum and support. I decided to better my sloth-like sleeping habits and rise early, which I did for about 3 days. It was easier than I thought it would be! I was actually awake by the time that I arrived at work! Then, woe is me, I took a temporary second job. At night. End of story.

I have faith in myself and my considerable self-discipline abilities that I can make this work. The real question is....what type of writing do I devote this precious daily half-hour to? Should I blog or write fiction? Should I write or edit articles for the 'zine? I think that I am going to try a day or two of each, and see which fits.

The beauty and the bane of the writing life is that so much of it is for you to set, form and control. You have to determine your own parameters and crack your own whip. Ultimately, no one else really cares if you write or not. It is, then, a matter of self-respect: if you value your ability and voice, then you will give it the appropriate place in your life.

What is your routine? How closely do you follow it? Has your writing benefited from it?