Reading Davin Malasarn in the Waves

All---

While on my trip, I did a lot of reading, and after reading one Davin Malasarn story in Stories for Sendai, since we were still in the land of cell signals, I tweeted that I enjoyed how Davin's writing leaves the reader uncertain what's obvious and what's subtle.

I immediately knew I owed folks a blog post about what I meant.  Let me first offer the essence: Davin Malasarn uses bold language and large characters to reach into the most tiny nuances of human life, and to do so in a gentle, quiet way that you at first think, "Wow, that was subtle," and then when you look at the bold language and the large characters you find yourself thinking, "Or should it have been obvious all along?

The Matterhorn,
photo by GammaCygni

I'm not a Buddhist, and I'm not giving you crystal images to tell you 'bout a brighter day, but there I think this passage from, "There is a Mountain," by Donovan, sort of sums up the Malasarn reading experience:

First there is a mountain

Then there is no mountain

Then there is

This is true in his shorts stories and in his novella Bread, which I have had the privilege of reading.  The first thing that always strikes me is just how strong everything is.  Stark language, with a very striking intentionality about pace of structure.  Characters who are complex, but easily apprehended when they first step onto stage.  Everything he wants you to know, he makes sure you know; he writes in a way that everything is accessible.

And yet, at the same time, as I read, I am struck by the subtle and clever -- even sneaky -- ways in which he uses those strong elements.  While they might be accessible, Davin uses that accessibility to bring the reader into a deeper view of life that the reader even realizes until the very end.  Then, the reader is suddenly breathless, looking back and saying, "Wait, how did that happen?"  We're talking about my own soul?  My own life?  The nature of the people I love?  The strangers I pass?  How did we get there?

But that's not where it stops, because then, when you look at those bold elements you began with, you're left thinking, "Oh, wait, it's right there."  Or, "Hold on, he said everything right at the beginning of the story."  And often he did.  But you didn't catch it, because you didn't understand it yet.  Then, after he's worked his sneaky word magic on your brain, you begin to understand it, and suddenly what was a hidden, subtle shadow in the beginning now seems easy to grasp.

It is the sign of a master writer and a master teacher.

Sitting Seiza,
photo by Tharso

Let me describe the experience in another way, one less explicit but perhaps more instructive.  Davin has talked often of the importance of reading circumstances.  It struck me, as I took my half-read copy of The Wild Grass down to the lakeside, that I was in the perfect opportunity to read Malasarn the only way that makes sense to me.

There were constant, gentle waves in the lake.  Nothing overpowering, but enough to keep the water in motion.  I took The Wild Grass out, and set seiza in the waves.  I read like that.  Embraced by the water in which I feel more at home than I feel on land.  Rocked about, struggling for balance against the same water.  Keeping the precious book elevated enough that it would stay dry.  Searching for the perfect reading angle in the high sun.  Working hard, even as I was perfectly comfortable, at ease and yet constantly engaged.  I could not think of a place I would rather be, and yet it took constant effort to maintain myself.

.Nevets.

Step Into My Parlor

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Feels like a day with enough swirling good and bad around me that it's probably a good time to share a few likes and dislikes, and let you get to know a bit more about the quirks behind the Nevets.

First, the really exciting news: I've completed Sublimation, just shy of 100K words at this point.  I'm in the middle of one final solo revision, and then I'll be handing it over to a few readers and an editor.  Then, assuming there's not too much major work to be done, I'll begin querying agents.  I'm incredibly excited about this book, a dark psycho-philosophical thriller about rules and gamesmanship in a surreal vortex of violence and personal collapse.

Another good thing going on right now is improved health.  I've not really talked about it or made a  big deal, and I will continue to do neither, but I wanted to share this as an encouragement.  Over the course of the past eighteen months or so I've lost about sixty pounds.  I'm still not at my ideal weight, but I already feel much better, and while I still suffer from terrible allergies and some other health issues, there's no question that I have more energy and stamina to get through the day.

On the other hand, something that frustrates me more than it should.  Things should just do what they're supposed to do. When a door doesn't open, a container holds food other than it's labelled for, or a video glitches and fails, it really jars me.  Even worse, when a book is interrupted by another book . . .

What's that?

Yes, today I received my copy of Stories for Sendai. I asked Rose to take my picture with it when she had a chance, and then, as I was flipping through the pages I started to get confused.  Apparently Michelle and JC had used some excerpts of Thomas Paine's Common Sense and Lewis Caroll's Alice in Wonderland in among the stories.  Strange choices, but editors will be editors.  It seemed extra strange that they included artwork.  Even stranger, that there was a table of contents for Common Sense.  Then, I realized that these weren't excerpts.  They were entire books.  A book nested within a book, nested within a book.  And the interruption was right in the middle of a story.  Jarring.  Frustrating.  Agonizing.

But after a quick conversation with Michelle to confirm that not all the printed volumes were shipping like that, I was able to use the pains-free, questions-free Amazon replacement process and I have a corrected book shipping to me already.  It's being well handled, but it definitely played straight into a hangup of mine.

Charles Frederick Gill,
image by Leslie Ward
for Vanity Fair (1891)

On a more ambiguous note, without reference to any specifics, I will also say that the past few days (between Battlestar Galactica and the news), I've been once again reminded just how much I get into jurisprudence.  I don't mean trial news or courtroom drama.  I mean the actual legal, philosophical, and ethical nuances which go into the operations of a legal system, especially our American adversarial system.  Always gets my heart beating just a little faster.  Even when I was just tutoring students in comm law, which is pretty dang boring.  Jurisprudence really is, in its own right, a battle between rules and gamesmanship, both of which I adore.

Little known fact: There was a time I was thinking seriously about law school, but was frightened off mostly by the money.

Less known fact: When I was thirteen or so, I checked out several volumes of the Indiana code and read through them so that I could understand the difference in nuance between larceny, burglary, and grand theft.

And then, ending on a really positive note: I got to have a brief exchange with writer and Twitter-friend Shopgirl about the Chinese langauge today and how cool the Beijing accent is.  Makes me grin.  I really don't understand it, but there's no denying it: as much as I enjoy other languages, there's something about Mandarin Chinese that just hits deep inside me and resonates from head to toe.

.Nevets.

Just Another Brick in the Japanese Wall

photo by Nao

All---

Things like cultural heritage, tradition, and family are interesting things.  For some, these things bring with them warmth, nostalgia, and a grounding for everything they have become.  For others, the same things are prisons, tying them down and restricting their freedom and growth.  In America, we tend (broad brush here) to circumvent this problem by shrugging off our heritage and traditions and downsizing our meaning of family.   In other cultural contexts, this isn't an option.













Tanaka Jun is a young Japanese man struggling with the weight of this. Torn between pressures to celebrate his heritage and pressures to shake off, as Ben Folds might say, his redneck past, he exists in a shell that he has created for himself. Then, he starts receiving text messages on his cellphone. A menacing countdown to an evil he does not know.

Tanaka Jun popped a takoyaki into his mouth, took the toothpick which had speared it, and flicked it over his shoulder.  As he slowly savored the fried octopus, he set the container of remaining treats on the counter and, to the chef’s confusion, walked slowly away.  The slim young man adjusted his dark sunglasses, pulled down his hat and, even though it was a hot Osaka summer day, he wrapped a knit scarf around his mouth.


In his pocket, the last mail his cellphone had received still shone with a single character: the stark cross-shaped mark that meant 10.

 -- From "Kansai Oniisan," Stories for Sendai, by C. N. Nevets (c) 2011

Since, my friend, you have revealed your 

Deepest fear,

I sentence you to be exposed before 

Your peers.

Tear down the wall!

-- From "The Trial," The Wall by Pink Floyd (c) 1979

The anthology Stories for Sendai is now available for purchase on Amazon.com.   The costs is $7.99 for the print release with nineteen stories and a poem.  Featuring Michelle Davidson Argyle, Phil Loring, Davin Malasarn, JC Martin, JR McRae, C. N. Nevets, and many more. 

International readers and fans of e-reading, the Kindle edition will be available very soon.  I will make sure to keep you posted, but you can also follow the Stories for Sendai blog for more information.

Stories for Sendai

Soundtrack for Sendai: Music for Kansai Oniisan

photo by Kansai Explorer

Are you excited yet? We're almost at the official release date for Stories for Sendai! I know I am incredibly excited. I've heard authors say that their first stories to see print were their most exciting. For me, given my more cynical turn, I'm always afraid that the last story will be, well, my last story. Every story that I write not only gets stronger, but also becomes more rewarding. To celebrate my story, "Kansai Oniisan," I'm offering you a soundtrack.
I frequently listen to music when I'm writing, and often times I develop a sort of leitmotif, in which certain songs represent certain characters.  I rarely, however, develop an actual soundtrack for what I'm writing.  In fact, this is less of a soundtrack and more of a musical preview.   At the risk of sounding professorial, I think it might be fun to watch these videos, sometime before you read the story, and then perhaps again after.  If I've done my job as a writer properly, you will appreciate the music and culture represented in a different way.

So, without spoilers as to context in the story, here's the outline:

The bulk of the story is covered by three songs by Japanese pop artists using English titles.  The video, "Loveless," by Yamashita Tomohisa, captures some of the tone of the opening of the story, perhaps the first half or so.  As things hit a moment of normalcy and comradeship, I would recommend the video, "Weeeek," by NEWS. Once things suddenly turn dark and heavy, go to, "Truth," by Arashi.

At the end, though, it's all about this song, "Nani wa Iro ha Bushi," by Kanjani8.  If you watch none of the other videos I've linked, at least watch this one.  It will really give you a sense of the Kansai cultural personality, which lies at the heart of story.

Hope this helps get you all pumped up for the anthology!

.Nevets.

MC Escher's Evil Identical Cousin Cathy

"Waterfall"
by Andrew Kepert

All---

I don't have time to catalog all the writing myths I've run into over the years.  I don't even have an interest in doing so right now.  But here's one that I think is especially pernicious because it just makes so much sense that it resonates without explanation: write what you like to read.

I'm not disputing the value of being familiar with and well read in the genre you're publishing in.  I think even that can be made a little too much of, but I have experienced its value first hand so I at least get it.

But that's not the same as writing what you like to read.  New writers sometimes ask, "I want to write, but I'm not sure what to write."  Developing writers sometimes ask, "I feel like I should settle on a genre for this story, but I'm not sure which."  Readers sometimes ask writers, "How did you decide what to write?"  And too often the answer is, "Write what you like to read."

But, as the saying going, here's the thing.  I read sci fi.  I read westerns.  I read mysteries.  I read fantasy and historical fiction.  I read literature with very internal story lines.  I read spy thrillers and psychological suspense.  Most of the time, what I read isn't telling the stories I want to tell.  Most of the time, authors I read aren't telling the stories in the way I would.   When I'm writing I take human psychology, brutally force it through a sieve that distorts reality, and then chunk it violently together with philosophy.

And every time I try to step away from my role as Escher's verbal dark side, the stories break.  They don't work.  They don't click.  No matter how much I might appreciate the story if told another way.

Truth be told, I'm already reading people who tell the stories I want to read.  I'm telling stories to tell them, not to read them.  And, strangely, in the end, I don't like stories that I write how I might like to read them.  But I love the stories that I write how I like to tell them.

And so, when I want to tell an existential story about the need to matter, it includes a shotgun and a man in a chicken suit ("The Best Medicine," Genre Wars).  When I want to write a story about coping with death, it centers on a forensic anthropologist reveling in gore ("Death, Be Not Me," Genre Wars).  When I want to tell the sweet love story of a man breaking free of isolation, its course runs through the imagery of serial killing and dead insects ("Terminal Instar," Notes from Underground).  When I want to tell the story of the two-edged sword that is heritage, I take a main character with an attitude problem and throw a ticking bomb in his pocket ("Kansai Oniisan," Stores for Sendai).

And when I try to write about the human struggle for patience in a busy world, employing airport observations as partial metaphors (see my last blog post), it doesn't click until I wrap it around a revenge plot turned mercy killing.

So here's my verdict:

Write the story you want to tell, and write it the way you want to tell it -- and the way only you can.


.Nevets.


p.s. Someday maybe I will take a stab at what, "and the way only you can," means.

Portable Octopus

All---

Tanaka Jun popped a takoyaki into his mouth, took the toothpick which had speared it, and flicked it over his shoulder.  from "Kansai Oniisan," (c) C. N. Nevets, 2011

Takoyaki,
photo by Keith Pomakis on 2004-09-18

At the open of my story, "Kansai Oniisan," from the upcoming anthology Stories for Sendai, the main character partakes of a snack-sized Japanese food called takoyaki.  What exactly is takoyaki?

Takoyaki is the answer to the age old question:

So you got a hankering for some octopus, but you don't feel like lugging the whole thing around, what're you gonna do?

You're going to get Takoyaki.

Often compared to dumplings, takoyaki (tako = octopus; yaki = a frying technique) are essentially pan-fried spheres of bread, filled with octopus and a variety of strong Japanese flavorings.  

The octopus part of the dish can be anything from a small cutting of boiled octopus to an entire baby octopus, preferably in the center.  The batter is flavored in a typical Japanese fashion -- infused with dashi stock and shot through with bits of pickled ginger, green onion, aonori seaweed, katsuobushi flakes, even red shrimp.  There is a lot of variety in the filling and flavoring, but there is even more variety in the topping.  Some takoyaki are eaten essentially plain or with a thin dipping sauce.   Others are topped more complexly with daikon and mayonnaise or more.

The dish seems to have originated in Osaka, the Kansai town where my story takes place.  As is characteristic of Osaka food variety is encouraged, as long as the end product is a full-on sensory experience of taste, aroma, and (literal) heat.  It is served all over Japan, but in the minds of many, it is strongly characteristic of Osaka.

Takoyaki stands,
photo by Onilx

There are a lot of cultural and social trapping that go along with takoyaki.  Most often, it is perceived as a street snack, and is commonly purchased at stands harken more to old county fair booths than they do to hot dog stands.  The takoyaki are actually prepared in the stand, cooked on in fry-pants that are reminiscent of muffin tins.  Typical of Asian street food, there are often a couple of small seats around the stand and perhaps a bar to stand at, but the food is also easily served up into portable, plastic containers or paper baskets.  The stands serve as easy, casual meeting places for couples who are not yet ready for public dating or private meetings together.  They can serve as neighborhood anchor points.  They also serve as places to get some snack food, especially in food-crazed Osaka, whose Dotonbori district is often characteristics by a motto that can be translated as, "Eat yourself to ruin with joyful gluttony."

(image from the public domain)

While they are rarely served in restaurants, Takoyaki are not limited to street vendors, of course, and can be prepared at home, though I'm not clear if they would be prepared as a personal snack, a family snack, or more as a party food.  They are, however, a common food at neighborhood and club festivals, where they are not prepared by professional chefs but brought and prepared by individuals, rather like the man at church who makes the cotton candy or the lady at the PTA who brings her own popcorn cart.

As with most Japanese arts, clean presentation and intentional design are important.  Smooth sphere sheers with clean edges are valued.  Efforts are taken to minimize the waffle-iron batter effect so that when the balls are topped and presented, the person who is about to eat feels as if they are receiving a gift, something that shows appreciation and respect for them and which demands that they show appreciation and respect back to the preparer.

They can be eaten with small sticks, similar to toothpicks, or with chopsticks in the usual way.  Takoyaki may also be served up like a kabab, a group of them skewered on a chopstick.  (Apparently not every street vendor in Japan has read the etiquette books which tell us to never, ever use our chopsticks as a spear!)

So the next time you want the yumminess of octopus without all the hassle of lugging around a full-grown animal, you know what to do: grab some takoyaki.

.Nevets.

Writing News - Stories for Sendai Anthology

All---

You may have already heard the news, if you're following  the Stories for Sendai blog, or if you keep up with either of the upcoming anthology's authors, JC Martin or Michelle Davidson Argyle.  In case you haven't heard, though, my short story, "Kansai Oniisan" was selected for inclusion in Stories for Sendai.  The anthology will features twenty works of fiction or poetry and is scheduled for publication at the end of June.  It is an incredibly deep, diverse field of writers, and I am truly honored to be included alongside authors such as Domey Malasarn, Phil Loring, Roland Yeomans, Michelle Davidson Argyle, and JC Martin.

There's a lot going on with this story and this publication that make it extra meaningful for me.

Phil Loring is a very good friend of mine from grad school.  Some of our best memories of Alaska are times that my wife and I spent with Phil and his wife.  Some of my own best memories of grad school are the widely-ranging, no-holds-barred intellectual, philosophical, political, anthropological, and speculative conversations held in the grad school bull pen between Phil and myself on everything from real-world concerns to science fiction geekery.  I am very excited to share space with Phil's, "Population 1," in this anthology.

After learning from and being inspired by Michelle Davidson Argyle and Domey Malasarn for a long time, it's also a treat to be published alongside them.  Domey and I write in very different ways, but we have both found interesting parallels and connections in our writing from time to time.  I can't tell you how much I smiled when I say that, like my own, "Kansai Oniisan," his story, "Obaachan," is titled with a Japanese family word packed with all sorts of implications that would have been lost if presented in English.  Michelle is the author of two of my favorite books I read last year: the literary fantasy Cinders, whose main character resonated with me more than virtually any other I've read; and the soft psychological thriller Monarch, set to be released this September by Rhemalda.

The anthology itself is also important.  You should read the entire mission statement, but here is an excerpt summary of the excellent work this anthology is doing, as presented on their blog:

We are compiling an anthology of inspirational short stories loosely themed around the strength of the human spirit. All proceeds will be donated to GlobalGiving in aid of victims of the earthquake and tsunami. GlobalGiving will disburse the funds to relief organisations and emergency services on the ground, including International Medical Corps and Save the Children.  

I am excited to playing even a small part in that relief effort, and I hope you all will help spread the word, too. This anthology is a great way for readers and writers to do something bigger than stories, and to connect in a real and not only figurative way to the broader world.

But, at the end of the day, what's most meaningful to me is my story itself, "Kansai Oniisan."  Like any story, there are things I think I did well, things I wish I'd done better, and things I can't decide whether I like or not.    One of the things I think I accomplished was transporting the reader to a context with which they might be unfamiliar.  When I used to write fantasy and science fiction, that was a big part of what I did.  Now that I write psychological suspense, it's something I go to less frequently.  In, "Saturation Point," I loved the opportunity to transport the reader to the crowded Delhi  markets.  In, "Kansai Oniisan," I really wanted to take the reader to Osaka, Japan.

I've mentioned before that I have a lot of connections of varying depth and seriousness to Japan. It was really important to me that I use this opportunity, not to represent Japan, but to convey some of complex layers of Japanese culture and society which are compelling to me and which make Japan an important and special part of our world.  While that's a very challenge for a short story, I believe that, whatever else I accomplished with, "Kansai Oniisan," I did capture some of the tension and hope which are uniquely Japanese.

Osaka
photo by JKT-c

And, so, with no further ado, the opening to, "Kansai Oniisan," (c) 2011 by C. N. Nevets:


Tanaka Jun popped a takoyaki into his mouth, took the toothpick which had speared it, and flicked it over his shoulder.  As he slowly savored the fried octopus, he set the container of remaining treats on the counter and, to the chef’s confusion, walked slowly away.  The slim young man adjusted his dark sunglasses, pulled down his hat and, even though it was a hot Osaka summer day, he wrapped a knit scarf around his mouth.


In his pocket, the last mail his cellphone had received still shone with a single character: the stark cross-shaped mark that meant 10.




Watch the Stories for Sendai blog for updates on when the anthology will be available, so you can read the rest of this, as well as all the other stories!

.Nevets.

HEA or DOA?

All---

Okay, so, I know several of you have read "Terminal Instar," my story in Notes from Underground.  There's something I'm dying to know.  Does it have a happy ending?

Charlie Chaplin, happily ever after

I'm seriously, very curious about that.

For everyone else -- get the anthology, read all the stories, go friend and follow all the other authors, and then come back and tell me if you think "Terminal Instar" has a happy ending or not.

In the mean time, I'd like to start an open conversation about what you all think (as writers or as readers) makes an ending happy?

This is on my mind all the time, but more than ever as I worked up, "Kansai Oniisan," the story I'll be submitting to Stories for Sendai.  In my first draft, I thought it was a really clear, unequivocally happy ending. For this piece, that's definitely what I wanted.

But then I actually had my wife read the story, and she was willing to go as far as, "Well, I definitely know that's a happy ending for you."

I have my own thoughts, but I don't want to spoil the conversation, so please, readers and writers alike, chime in: what makes an ending happy?

.Nevets.

Kansai Oniisan

All---

So I managed to grab some time this weekend to work on the story I plan on submitting to Stories for Sendai, an anthology edited by JC Martin and Michelle Davidson Argyle than plans to raise money to support recovery efforts in devastated Japan.

My story is called, "Kansai Oniisan."  It is a literary thriller in short form, erring a little more to the psychological side than the suspense side, though both are present.  I think the story fits in nicely with the rest of my work, and in some ways will give readers a bit of a bit more taste for how my long form fiction feels in some ways.  If, "Kansai Oniisan."  is not accepted into the anthology, I will likely post it directly to to my website as a Websclusive.

If you've followed any of my conversation about writing, you know that I don't always follow the best advice out there, and this is a case in which I have mostly violated one of the wisest principles of fiction writing: don't write with a point in mind.  I routinely violate this rule in varying ways.  In this case, because I am answering the call for stories that emphasize the triumph of the human spirit not by finding an appropriate story from my stash, but by writing one from scratch.  Which means I'm writing with a very definite point.

That said, I'm also taking a a little bit of a chance and I'm sticking to my guns on it, sink or swim.    I don't write very well on the community or cultural level.  I'm all about individuals.  I'm also less interesting in prevailing against external forces than I am in conquest against the forces within the individual.  "Kansai Oniisan" is the story of one young man, under anonymous threat, and how his personal character fares when passed the crucible of the horrible.  For me, it's definitely the triumph of the human spirit.  It may not fit the tone and mode of Stories of Sendai, however, and I'm willing to let my story fit or be rejected on its own terms rather than try to turn it into a story it's not.

I like to think my being brave makes up for my other failings in this particular pursuit...

.Nevets.

Soundtrack for this blogpost provided by Alaap, Daler Mendhi, and Sardool Sikander!