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Joshua Alan Doetsch

~ Author & Scrivnomancer

Joshua Alan Doetsch

Tag Archives: uis

PLUTONIAN CAB

19 Tuesday Feb 2008

Posted by scrivnomancer in Uncategorized

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

chad baldwin, david logan, joanna tweedy, nancy perkins, novel outline, outstanding graduate thesis, phone sex, red lion pub, spider-man, springfield, torrie, uis, val, word jazz

More eavesdropping fun…

In the 7-11 in the city I grab a water and a sandwich and a man spouts his theories on how the recent rash of strange weather, winter tornados and angry ice, was brought on by the government to kill certain people and cited other examples of weather controlled assassination as support.  I wish—WISH—I could have stayed and recorded this…but I was in a hurry.

But I digress…

I’d apologize…but I’ll only digress again…

The law of double negatives says it will all cancel out in the end…

And I’ll be sinless—halo clean and steel wool scared…

But I digress…

It’s been a weird set of weeks.  Almost a month ago, I got back from Sundance, falling in and out of sleep, on the plane, coming in and out of the slipstream of WORD JAZZ playing through my iPod headphones.

Soon thereafter, I packed up again for Springfield…

UIS MASTERS THESIS CEREMONY
On January 28th, I went to down to UIS for their annual Outstanding Masters Thesis awards ceremony—as A FORMER RECIPIENT, I was invited.  It was nice to get out of the house and mingle again (not to mention dust off my decaying social skills…weeks of outline writing and a growing addiction to instant messenger and social websites have desicated any social graces I may have had…the first few people that I tried to socialize with, in person, I just hit in the side of the head with a stone and said, “Chunga!  Chunga-chunga-chunga!”). 

I got to see a few old faces, meet a few new ones, and had that kick-ass, ego-amphetamine-boost feeling of having your reputation proceed you.  I got some nice comments about my thesis—praise for my unique descriptions, research in mythology and voodoo—and kudos for my “in depth knowledge of drugs and the drug subculture” (think back…put yourself back in your high school shoes…and try to even conceive of a world where a school official would praise you for this).  I’ll let you lovelings in on a little secret, about the drug thing:  partially, I research it…but mostly, I make it up.

Shhhhh…don’t tell anyone.

They even had my READ poster up in the room.

I got to talk with my teacher/mentor/friend Nancy Perkins—I was excited as I was scheduled to meet her and several of my old UIS writing buddies for dinner the next night.  She had some bad news though—a member of said writing group, Chad Baldwin, had passed away a week ago.  I was floored.  Throw in all the cliches—he’s too young, thoughts of my own mortality, etc.—I felt them all.

Chad Baldwin (December 27, 1971 – January 22, 2008)

In the graduate level Creative Writing program at UIS, students came and went, but there was a core group, handpicked by Nancy Perkins (from past students).  We were a very tight-knit group—everyone got along—everyone was different with a very different, particular writing style and voice—we all complimented each other, had something to show each other—all of us impressing each other.

Looking back, I see how lucky I was to be part of this unit.  In other classes or writing groups, you’re lucky to find one or two others that you trust as much, like as much, and who genuinely challenge you as much…and I had a whole class of super peers.  Those were fun classes.  The fun bled out of class too…we would share drinks at Bootleggers after every class, talk shop or just BS—we’d see each other at parties—were part of discussion panels at writing conferences—went to Nancy’s wedding and visited her in New England a few summers back.  I was blessed by the storytelling gods to be with these people and they are one family group that I thoroughly regret not being a part of on a day to day basis anymore.

Chad was part of this group.

Chad was cool (the term “cool” is overused and has become a generic positive term…but he alway struck me as cool).  I liked Chad’s stories, particularly his characters.  He’d play strange, underground word games with friends.  I hadn’t seen Chad for well over a year, but I heard that he was working as a cab driver, and handed out prayer cards kind words to strangers who looked like they were having a bad day.  Once, Chad gave me a gift:  a word.  What a cool gift to give someone, a word.  He handed it to me, before a class, said he thought I’d find it useful.  I did.  In fact, I probably overuse it.  But I don’t care.  It’s my word.  It was given to me as a gift and I like to show off the things my friends give me.  I still have the word, can still reach out and touch the word; it’s sticky tacked to my writing desk, a tearaway sheet from a word-of-the-day calendar with the word chthonic and a definition.  I’m very glad I still have it.

So here’s to Chad.  I miss him.  I missed him before he was gone.  He was one of the people I was hoping to see on my Springfield trip.  But I’ll keep his word and a pocket of memories.  I’d like to think he’s driving a cab somewhere between worlds, helping lost souls who had a bad day and earning two coin tips.


PHONE SEX

I did get to see Nancy though, as well as David and Joanna (two other members of the afore mentioned cadre of writing students).  That was very nice.

Also, while in Springfield, I got to see Torrie…though, as always, not for long enough…but still, we got to hang for a bit, have Josh n’ Torrie conversations, discover a new rum (Kilo Kai) and after a few of those, mime our very similar cell phones mating with each other on the bar table (hey…back off man, we’re scientists!…well…she’s a scientist…I just like Bill Murray references…).

I also got to make a quick stop, on the way home, and see Val, drink, and watch old Universal monster movies.

OUTLINE BLUES
This freaking outline!  How could it stretch out this long?  I could not seem to get it done, could not figure out why it made me feel frozen, useless, talentless.  Why?

I think it’s because I’m an intuitive person.  I can weave prose, images, words, in the moment, and I feel comfortable.  I’m good at improvisational thinking, reactive, with a problem or stimuli or prompt I can go on the spot (I was the student who didn’t mind an on the spot 5 minute random writing prompt in class).

But my weakness seems to be certain areas of technical discipline.  I’ve gotten lazy and picked up a few bad habits.  This outline is about discipline, planning ahead, methodically analyzing, plotting, structure.  I’m over-analyzing, second guessing, stopping…and when I stop, creatively, I stagnate, and I drown.  I get scared…I want to abandon discipline and rely on my natural talents…my subconscious is much smarter than me.  But I’ll get better…

How did I reach this level of introspective insight?  I’m almost embarrassed to admit it…but I was reading a Spider-Man comic (I take that back…I’m not embarrassed, not even almost, I have little use for socially obligated embarrassment—I have my flaws, but one thing I’m good at is letting pretension fall out of whatever orifice is handy).  I was in a bookstore, working on the outline, got frustrated, and picked up a Spider-Man comic.  Spider-Man was talking to Captain America…who was lecturing my childhood favorite superhero, telling him that he needs more disciplined focus…which Spidey resists because he’s more used to going with the flow, reacting in the moment, using his amazing natural abilities (super speed and strength) and quick wit.  Capt. America, who doesn’t have that level of natural ability, relies more on forethought, slowing down, and disciplined focus (and so imparts these things to the web head).

Yeah.  That’s what I lack right now…discipline and focus.  My mind scatters in a thousand directions and possibilities, crawling up every wall.  I stick to that…to possibilities and I hate to let go.  But I got to pick and choose.  I have a big project and natural ability isn’t enough.  Normally I just fling myself into my imagination, in the moment, I can fly slinging strands and webs of words…but analyzing my technique is making me freeze up and I fall, fall, fall…

Ah well.  You and me Spidey.  Forever.


Yeah…I was a Spider-Man fan from way back….

The Read Lion
I finally needed a change of scene.  I borrowed a lap top, drove into the city, heard some dude give his theories on weather control assassinations, and ducked into my favorite haunted, British style pub, drank rum in the 120+ year old building, and finished the outline, just across the street from the alley where John Dillinger was shot dead.

I turned it in.  We’ll see what the editor has to say.

And that’s about it for now.

To sum up:  Here’s to Chad.

By the Pricking of My Thumb . . .

12 Wednesday Sep 2007

Posted by scrivnomancer in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

beowulf, cafe aeon, iron man, kenning, laboratory, ray bradbury, scrivener, uis

Laboratory Blues

Bubble, bubble—I’d wish for a little less toil and a lot less trouble . . .

But all in all and my laboratory is back in working order.  The flesh and limbs and mortal clay are all back on their shelves and in their jars and viscera soups.  My tools are each in their place, shining and humming and sparking.  And I think I’m ready to get back to work on the quivering thing on the vivisection table.

Yes, I’ve made the transition from my dying PC to a brand new MAC.   I just barely got out alive too . . . as on my last trip back to my ailing computer, to get the last little bit of data to transfer, and it would not start.  Now it is dead.  But we discovered it was a registered organ doner and some of its innards now reside in my brother’s computer.

I’m mostly acclimated to the i-mac now and mostly like it.

Best of all, I just bought an awesome new bit of creative writing software . . . it’s called SCRIVENER.  Check it out.  It deserves it’s own blog entry…at a later date.

I’m a Brilliant Future

Looks like I’m a Brilliant Future.  Go ahead.  Give it a click.  See.  Growing up, I was a poor gang banger from the projects . . . but someone gave me a chance—and look at me now!

Te-he . . . I am flattered that they thought of me (though a much better picture of me is summoned up if you click the link at the bottom of that page).

Also, I’ve been emailed some interview questions for an article on me that will appear in the UIS development magazine (name still pending).

Representing hard for the UIS yo!

AEON

Black envelopes marked in colored ink get my attention.

I just got an invite to an invite only event at my favorite café, CAFÉ AEON, and I’m quite excited.  They have a new website to boot.


Something Wicked . . .

I can feel the shift in season, the trip wire is tripped, by the trip-trap of autumn.  Memories like the smell of cider, pumpkin pie, and the sticky-sweat seal of a rubber mask are the phantom limb itch in my head.  So, I knew it was the right time to start listening to the audio recording of Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes.  Ray knows autumn better than anyone.  He knows why monsters under the bed are important to child development.  I had a water bed growing up—no spaced underneath, no room for anything to hide.  Incidentally, my college writing teacher/mentor, Nancy Perkins, is convinced that, that is the reason I write what I write . . . to make up for lost time.

Of Comic Books and Kenning

For you comic fans, check out the trailer for IRON MAN.

For you epic literature fans, check out the rated R trailer for the new BEOWULF movie.

I can’t wait.  I especially like the part where Beowulf is spouting off his descriptive nick names:  “I am ripper, tearer, slasher.  I am the teeth in the darkness!”  That sort of comic book/hero contrivance where they say “I am the shadow in the night,” or some such—it’s actually from the ancient tradition of epics and mythology, the magic of formulaic naming disciplines like kenning and epithets.

There are different types in different cultures…but they all come down to giving clever nick names for a person, place, or thing.  You could just take an appropriate verb and turn it into a noun to describe something—Beowulf is “Ripper!”

Or maybe a deed becomes the name of the person—“I am Cyclops Slayer!”

Or maybe you get a little more poetic—“I am the teeth in the darkness.”

And sometimes these become set formulas for referring to famous figures…like in mythology.  Gods get many different names…or different descriptors attached to that name…and sometimes you use one so that your reader/listener knows what aspect of the god you refer to.  You might call Odin, “Gallows god” or “Glad-of-War.”  You might call Loki, “Wolf Father” or “Sky Strider.”

Kenning gets really formulaic.  It’s a system of putting two or more words together to give them a combined meaning that neither word had before—for example—one of my favorite is “bait-gallows” which means “hook.”

But then kenning gets even cooler and more deceptively complex—because you can layer it.  Let’s say a pirate strides up to me, and like some ancient, Norse poem spinner, I want to call him by kenning rather than his usual name.  I might call him “Hook-Wrist.”  And that might catch on (because kenning is simple and descriptive and it catches on just like nick names in high school)…

…but if I am a master kenning slinger, I might layer the kenning.  I can take those two words and use kenning on each of them (and we go to four words).  For example, the kenning for hook (as we said) is “bait-gallows.”  The kenning for wrist is “wolf’s-joint” (this is an allusion to the Norse myth where the god Tyr’s hand is bitten off by the demon wolf Fenrir).

So now the pirate’s kenning name becomes “Bait-Gallows-Wolf’s-Joint.”  Someone who knows their kenning could break that down and know that I’m really saying “Hook-Wrist” and deduce that the pirate I’m talking about has a hook for a hand.  But even if not…it’s a fucking cool name.  It’s a conversation starter.  The pirate, let’s say his real name is Bob, would probably thank me for the bit of poetry I’ve blessed him with.

On that same line, I might be a Viking who finds himself lost in Egypt (worm-holes can happen to anyone) and I see the crazy hooked swords of the ancient middle east ( the kopesh).  Seeing these strange, sickle shaped swords, I might call them “Hook-Sword”…or “Bait-Gallows-Blood-Worm” (“blood-worm” means “sword”).

And this takes us to the ultimate conclusion of this post . . .

Who wants to join me and start a band called Bait-Gallows-Blood-Worm?

And finally, A CHALLENGE TO THE READER:  I’m curious what someone might use as kenning to refer to themself…click on the above links, read up on it, and then reply to this post with your own kennings.  If anyone replies, I’ll join in the fun too.

Parting Wisdom

Give a cannibal a severed arm, and you feed him for a day.

Give a cannibal a cleaver, and you feed him for life.

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