Coyote Wild

New Hunting Grounds

2006-07-24T19:34:00.000-07:00

The Coyote Wild pack has moved to new hunting grounds.

We hope you will join us, as readers, contributors, or both, as we launch our new speculative fiction ezine. We accept non-fiction, short fiction, flash fiction, and poetry submissions. Beginning September 1st, just send your ideas or manuscripts to submissions(at)coyotewildmag.com (non-fiction queries are accepted any time.)

Our first issue is due out January 2007. Watch and listen for us. We'll be howling in the night.

Howling in the Night

2005-11-09T22:48:00.000-08:00

Ar-ar-arrrooo....

Coyotes may be the most vocal of all land mammals. Although most people are familiar with the coyotes howl, the animal actually has a language which incorporates a variety of sounds. They have long clear calls in addition to barks and yips. Their vocalizations are designed to bring individuals together or let other coyotes know their location.

Listening for an answer in the night.

They Live

2005-10-28T23:07:00.000-07:00

The other day, I had the opportunity to talk to some younger writers. One of them mentioned Salinger and how he used to find his characters so real, he would often refer to them as real people. For instance, according to this young woman, he would say things like, "Holden would never do that." She said this in a tone of awe, like it was unusual. Abnormal, even.

For once, the little safety mechanism that's supposed to keep me out of mental hospitals activated in time. I said not a word. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.

Thing is, I thought all writers viewed their characters as real people. I thought it was normal. At least for writers.

Hell, even the members of my writing group refer to my characters as if they were real people and I talk about theirs the same way. Last December, I was having trouble with a scene and, after patiently listening to my frustrations, one member of my group just turned to me and said, "But she would never do that. She would..."

It can be so annoying when other people know your characters better than you.

Earlier this year, this same character -- she lives to cause trouble -- got mad at me and stormed out of my head and went and stayed with another member of my writing group for a few days. Eventually, she got tired of tormenting that person's muse and came home. And then, a week or so ago, the sister of the trouble-making character got bored because I was overworked and stressed and had no time for her, although it was her turn to have my full attention, so she just up and left for a couple of days.

No lie, the spot in my brain where she normally resides was blank. Empty. Hollow. She did come back, but I still have no idea where she was or what she did while she was gone. I doubt she'll ever tell me.

A literary meme

2005-10-21T00:58:00.000-07:00

Swiped shamelessly from The Crankiest Quaker Alive.

1. Take first five novels from your bookshelf.
2. Book 1 -- first sentence
3. Book 2 -- last sentence on page 50
4. Book 3 -- second sentence on page 100
5. Book 4 -- next to the last sentence on page 150
6. Book 5 -- final sentence of the book
7. Make the five sentences into a paragraph.
8. Feel free to "cheat" to make it a better paragraph.
9. Name your sources
10.Post to your blog.

Here's ours:

This time there would be no witnesses.

"I have been instructed to tell you, if it seemed necessary, that Khorov, as you probably will not be surprised to hear," and here the white face took on something uncommonly like a sneer, "is well known to our Department of Security as an agent of Trantor."

"Don't fret so much, Ms. Andrews."

Ayla had spent many long afternoons when she was alone in her valley practicing bird whistles and calls. But, in spite of these deficiencies, the wishes, the hopes, the confidence, the predictions of the small band of true friends who witnessed the ceremony, were fully answered in the perfect happiness of the union.

From:
Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency by Douglas Adams
The Currents of Space by Isaac Asimov
The Robber Bride by Margaret Atwood
The Mammoth Hunters by Jean M. Auel
Emma by Jane Austen

Okay. TAG!
Kira Conally/Loving Twilight
Jason Evans/The Clarity of Night
MacAllister Stone/Stones In the Field
MacDuff/Bits

You're it!

Restless

2005-10-16T13:44:00.000-07:00

The sun is shining, but the veils between worlds feel thin. Transparent. Something is stirring within this world. What is moving, I don't know.

My soul feels restless. It wants to go...

Of Tattoos and Youth

2005-10-14T22:38:00.000-07:00

I was in the convenience store the other day buying a soda and a candy bar. Not that this fact is relevant to this post or anything, except to establish that I was in the convenience store and I wasn't just there hanging out. I had reason for being in there. The reason I was there was to buy a soda and while I was there I decided I wanted a candy bar, too.

So, I took my purchases -- the candy bar and soda -- to the cashier. The clerk was a young woman who just started working there recently. I know this because I do stop in at this store quite a bit. But not to hang out. She looks nineteen, but since she and the young man she was flirting with were talking about Rockin' Robins, a local bar, we'll give her the benefit of the doubt and say she's twenty-one. (She can't be twenty-one. She looks way too young to be twenty-one.)

The young man was trying to impress her by talking about getting a tat too. She responded in the flirtatious, squeamish fashion designed to let him know she's not out to overpower his masculinity then informed him, "My friend's mother just got one."

"No way? What she'd do something like that for?"

"I don't know. She just turned forty and she's going through that thing where she wants to be young again."

Now, as I'm leaving, after paying for my soda and candy bar, I find myself thinking, They are so young to think that forty is old and that tattoos and things are exclusive to the twenty-something crowd. This shows how not so young I am these days.

Then I found myself wondering, What do they think would happen to their tattoos when they turned forty if they got one now? I mean, those things don't magically fade away on your thirtieth birthday.

A Challenge

2005-10-08T01:01:00.000-07:00

During the US Civil War, Mrs. Rose Greenhow, nicknamed "Wild Rose" spied on the north for the Confederacy. She transmitted her messages using a cipher. Imprisoned by the North, she still managed to pass messages to fellow conspirators by using her fan and signals arranged in the window of the house where she was held until the Union government deported her to the Confederate states. The cipher was finally cracked when the code was discovered on her body following her death.

Ann Blackman, a Greenhow biographer, offers the first five individuals who can break Wild Rose's cipher and interpret the encrypted parts of one of her messages an autographed copy of the book she has written. Only three people have succeeded so far.

Are you Coyote enough to take Ms. Blackman up on her challenge?

A Touch of Ego

2005-10-04T00:01:00.000-07:00

I have recently been studying everything from Plato to Nabokov. As part of this experience, I've been examining not just the published works of these authors, but also their biographies. When and how they lived, who they interacted with, what was important and not important to them. And, in a touch of ego, I've found myself wondering if I make it as an author, if my works survive through the generations, what will future biographers say about me and the life I've lived? How will they summarize it? What, or who, will be seen as the greatest influences on my writing and my beliefs?

More importantly, I've wondered which of the writers emerging alongside me future scholars will hold in high regard. As I move deeper and deeper into the current literary world, I am developing friendships and relationships with other aspiring writers and literary critics, each with their own style and voice and goals. In these hypothetical future biographies, which of these friendships will be noted and which will never be mentioned because one or both of the parties involved failed to achieve literary success?

Who, among the many writers striving to find their way to the top of today's slush pile, will achieve immortality tomorrow?

No Escape

2005-10-03T21:51:00.000-07:00

A good friend once told me that you should only try to save the people who are trying to escape the quicksand, that you can't save those who aren't struggling to escape. Recently, I've realized I don't necessarily know the difference between the two.

If a person says they want to escape but keeps finding a reason not to reach for the rope that is being tossed to them, is it because they don't want to escape or because they've never seen a rope before and mistake it for something frightening, like a snake?

*sigh* That sounds absurd even as I type it.

If someone doesn't reach for the rope, if they make no effort to move toward firm ground, if they, in fact, move closer toward the center of the quicksand, they are not trying to escape, are they?

I just have to close my eyes and cut the rope so I can move on; I'm not certain I know how.

Damn Gypsies

2005-09-25T07:44:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine who doesn't write for a living has decided that all writers are paranoid and delusional. The problem is, he has proof of this statement in the form of at least two writing sites outlining some of the different paranoid and delusional thoughts most writers experience at least once in their careers. I know there's a third one out there, too, but I haven't been able to find it again. They probably moved it so I couldn't report on its existence.

He's recently indicated that he doesn't believe writers sleep either. Ever. I think he's been reading this blog because we recently discussed not sleeping. And then he asked if writers ate. Yes, I definitely think he is lurking here. Reading. Gleaning all of our writerly secrets. But for what deep, dark, and nefarious purpose could he be using them? Is he plotting to take over the publishing industry?

I've shown him the opening scenes from my novel-in-progress. He wants to see more. I don't know why. He has discriminating tastes in reading material and I write trite, cliché space operas that no one in their right mind would ever read willingly. When the manuscript is done, I'll probably have to bribe my writing group to read it by offering to read their glorious pieces of prose that will drive me further to despair -- you know that's what the writing group wants, don't you? To drive me over the edge so there will be one less writer they are competing with in the slush pile.

But never mind them. They can be dealt with. Later. Right now I must learn what my friend is scheming, why he would want to read my hackneyed prose. But what if it isn't hackneyed? What if it is brilliant and I am just too close to it to see it? What if...

Oh, no. That's it. That must be it. There can be no other explanation.

My manuscript is brilliant. It is the best written novel of the current century. And my friend, he's signed a contract with Satan and is in league with the gypsies!

MAKING A DIFFERENCE

2005-09-24T06:31:00.000-07:00

Writers at all stages in the careers are doing what they can to make a difference for the victims of Hurricane Katrina. Do your part to help them help others.

I Would Resign

2005-09-16T21:33:00.000-07:00

Who wouldn't want to be a writer?

It's a glamorous lifestyle, right? And easy.

After all, people pay ridiculous sums of money for writers to daydream and commit to paper whatever comes to their head. Then, in the evenings and on weekends, writers jet set around the world, sipping champagne and taking fabulous cross-country vacations in between book signings and talk show appearances.

If only that were the truth.

The reality is countless hours spent staring at a computer, banging one's head against brick walls, agonizing over word choices, character decisions, trying to decide when a work of fiction has crossed boundaries that it should never cross, writing, reading, editing, rewriting, rereading, and editing just a little more while losing sleep because the muse has turned off your internal clock and forgetting to eat. It's a destructive, repetitive lifestyle. And all of this before the work is ever submitted, before it risks rejection, before it ever earns one cent towards purchasing a package of macaroni and cheese for the writer to wolf down between writing bouts.

Some of us would resign, throw up our hands and quit, but we're not allowed. Our friends, our fellow writers, the voices in our heads, the stories we are destined to tell won't let us. So, we plod on, losing track of days and weeks and the seasons and hoping that one day, someone, somewhere will read what we've written and that it will touch an emotional core of their being. And maybe, just maybe, they'll pay us for the privilege, at least enough for another box of mac & cheese.

Moving Forward

2005-09-10T19:22:00.000-07:00

I had written a post earlier this week about the need to remember what happened during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina in order to be able to hold the proper authorities accountable when the time comes. Another writer assisted me with finding appropriate links to some of the information presented. That makes it even more difficult for me to set aside that prepared post, but I am going to do so.

I am not setting it aside because I feel it is unimportant. I feel it is vital that we hold the proper authorities accountable for the delayed response in assisting the victims of Hurricane Katrina, but I have realized I do not have all of the facts about what did or did not happen in the Gulf Coast area and cannot provide Coyote's readers with the details necessary for them to make an informed decision about who should be held responsible for the lack of action. I encourage everyone to research the matter for themselves and to arrive at their own conclusions, as I will continue to do.

That said, it is time to return Coyote Wild back to its primary purpose, which is an experimental discussion about reading, writing, sex, death, and head colds, with some free writing, internet memes, and the occasional game, too. I wish I could tell you exactly what that means; maybe we can figure it out together?

Housing for Hurricane Victims

2005-09-03T15:57:00.000-07:00

MoveOn.org is coordinating people who have temporary housing available and the victims of Hurricane Katrina who need a place to stay.

More on Katrina

2005-09-03T13:54:00.000-07:00

The lack of assistance available to the people in New Orleans is... Check out Stones in the Field. Macallister Stone has been staying up on what information is available as it comes out of the affected area.

Katrina: First Things First

2005-09-03T08:11:00.000-07:00

In regards to New Orleans and Hurricane Katrina, there is plenty of blame to go around. There are many of things that could have been done differently, that should have been done differently, that the city and the nation would have done differently if only they had known, but no one wins the woulda-shoulda-coulda game.

Later, after everyone has been safely evacuated from New Orleans and other affected areas, after the survivors have been reunited with their loved ones, after the dead have been removed from the streets, then we can more fully examine the situation, determine why such a disaster happened as it did, figure out the best way to prevent it from happening again, analyze the allocation of resources, and review the actions, or lack thereof, of the political leaders involved, but right now there are still thousands of people stranded in New Orleans, thousands more who are refugees, homeless, in critical need of basic supplies, and thousands who need information about their friends and families.

Now is the time for action. Not second-guessing.

Right now, New Orleans needs the rest of the nation. Right now, everyone needs to focus their attention on what needs to be done, using the resources they have available. Right now, everyone needs to save the Monday morning quarterbacking for later.

What you can do to help:

Contact local chapters of the Red Cross, Salvation Army, as well as local churches and temples and donate whatever is needed most.
Donate your time to the above organizations.
In some areas, universities and other organizations are arranging for temporary housing for refugees. If you have a spare room, consider opening it. (As a caution, if you do this, go through a reputable charity or organization. Do not just make the arrangements on your own.)
Donate blood or your time to a blood drive.

If anyone knows of any other ways to assist the victims of Hurricane Katrina, please add to this list.

Cult of the Written Word

2005-09-01T02:53:00.000-07:00

I was recently reading parts of The Short Oxford History of English Literature by Andrew Sanders. In the Introduction, Sanders talks about the development of the secular canon and how it was based on the idea of the Catholic Church's canon of biblical literature. In the early days, as the canon was just coming into being, writers would try to prove their credentials by comparing themselves to writers of the past and holding the acknowledged literary sages up as idols to be worshipped and revered. Wordsworth saw himself as standing in an "apostolic line" with Chaucer, Spenser, and Milton.

There's something to be said about knowing what's been written before--and having read it. That's how literature is lifted from dead archives into living conversation. Would Stephen King have as much to say without following Henry James, Edgar Allan Poe, Mary Shelley, Bram Stoker, H.P. Lovecraft, Shirley Jackson . . . ? Sorting all that out, and making note of it, using those prior works as context for your own also gives your readers the code they need to read you most effectively.

In later years, as the Poets' Corner was gaining status in Great Britain as the location to venerate great English writers either by interring their remains there or else by erecting statues and plaques in their honor, this sense of worshipping the literary greats of the past spilled out of the literary world and into the common culture. The middle class began acquiring busts and statuettes to place in their reading rooms and on their mantle pieces to show that they belonged to an elite, learned culture.

As I was reading, it struck me that this tradition of placing writers on a pedestal continues even today. From inside the publishing world, this may not seem to be the case. Writers, whether aspiring or published, know that writing is far from a spiritual endeavor. It is filled with blood and tears and heartache and long, sleepless nights. Almost every writer I have ever encountered has at least one friend or family member who is less than supportive of their writer's dreams, who suggest that the individual is wasting their time, and think it would be more realistic for them to get a real job and forget this writing nonsense.

As I read Sander's words, I realized this lack of support is in fact evidence that writers are still worshipped and regarded with a certain degree of spiritual mystery. What the naysayers are in fact showing is a lack of spiritual faith that someone they know, someone who without a doubt is only a fallible mortal, might actually be able to attain the veneration due to true writers and be accorded the same honors as William Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, J.K. Rowling, and Stephen King.

Even within the publishing world, writers are encouraged to show their place in the apostolic line in the queries they send to perspective agents and publishers. Newer writers are instructed by today's sages to compare their manuscript to previously published novels. Its not that the newer writers are being told to suppress their own originality, but to reveal their place in the list of the literary divine so agents will know who might be willing to worship them.

Or at the very least to gamble a few bucks on a paperback by an unknown.

Family Day?

2005-08-30T01:12:00.000-07:00

The White House has proclaimed September 26, 2005 Family Day. Everyone in the nation is encouraged to sit down and eat dinner with their family. The idea is that families that eat together and spend time together are more likely to raise healthy, responsible, drug free kids. While that idea is sound, people are unlikely to change their habits and lifestyles after one day.

But that's not what this entry is about. It's more concerned with what TVLand is doing to promote Family Day. On the day in question, TVLand is canceling its regular programming for four hours and instead will display photos of families eating and spending time together. I imagine it will be like watching a slide show of other people's vacations.

Call me cynical, but I keep picturing someone living alone, who, for whatever reason, has no family, growing more and more depressed as they watch photo after photo of other people enjoying time with their loved ones. I hope the suicide hotlines are gearing up for an increase in calls on that day.

Occupational Hazard

2005-08-24T22:09:00.000-07:00

Life doesn't seem quite real tonight. Time is standing still. The world is waiting. For what, I don't know.

This feeling of separateness, of not being part of the world, of anticipation, is an occupational hazard, I suppose.

I've spent the day reading. Stepping out of this reality and into worlds created by others. In those other worlds, I exist, but only as an observer. The result is this odd sense of disconnect from reality.

First, it was Oscar Wilde's Salomé, a modern retelling of the death of John the Baptist and the girl who danced and won the reward of the prophet's head on a platter. I was reading it with an eye toward the embedded Greek myths in the text. I found Artemis, the virginal goddess of the moon and the hunt, and Persephone, the queen of the underworld. There were overtones of Hamlet, too.

Then, I read the first three chapters from a member of my writing group's work in progress. It's an otherworldly tale told by an introspective narrator.

Little wonder then, that I'm pacing around a darkened house and occasionally sliding outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of the moon.

The New Alternative Media

2005-08-21T23:21:00.000-07:00

At Stones in the Field, MacAllister Stone compares blogs to the letters and journals left from the past. In some ways, this is true. Blogs reveal the inner lives of real individuals, both famous and ordinary, just as letters and journals have taught historians what people's lives were like in centuries and decades past.

But blogs fill another vacant niche in the literary ecology, too. They are taking the place of underground newspapers. Individuals living today may associate an underground press with the student and radical movements of the United States in the 1960's and 1970's. These movements used underground newspapers to share their viewpoints with others. But the history of the underground newspaper extends far before this. Those who are not the dominant power in the government have long used underground newspapers to share information. In the 1940's, Dutch and French resistance movements in Nazi occupied Europe established underground newspapers. POW's also established their own underground newspaper.

One does not have to agree with the voice of the disenfranchised to appreciate the value of an underground newspaper. It is about the ordinary individual having a voice separate and apart from the traditional media.

Think of Latoyia Figueroa. People far from Philadelphia learned her name not from the traditional media, but from bloggers. Blogs transmitted her story throughout the internet until the nation knew her name. So, although her story ended tragically, it also gives hope that the voice of the people has not been lost.

Godspeed, Latoyia

2005-08-20T17:30:00.000-07:00

LaToyia Figueroa's remains were found today. The story is here. Her ex-boyfriend has been arrested.

On and Off

2005-08-19T22:34:00.000-07:00

The cursor blinks on and off, on and off, on and off.

I've had several ideas for blog entries lately. I've sat down and started to write them. But none of them end up saying quite what I want them to say. They end up rambling. Not making any sense. Going nowhere.

So, I sit here, staring at the bane of all modern writers. The electronic cursor. Blinking. On and off. On and off.

Hamlet, The Dick and Jane version

2005-08-16T02:28:00.000-07:00

Some things are just oh, so wrong. But completely hysterical. Case in point: The Dick and Jane Hamlet.

It was originally written in the late 1950's by Larry Siegel. For a group of first graders. Allegedly.

Enjoy.

Google's Electronic Library

2005-08-13T16:48:00.000-07:00

I'm just hearing about Google's proposed electronic library today. I sent the link to the first article I read to some friends from college who aren't involved in publishing. One, who is often politically active and likes to follow certain legal issues, e-mailed me back after reading the article. He wanted to know my take on the matter because he wasn't certain if they proposed library was acceptable or not. Particularly, he asked me how I felt about them possibly scanning my work. I wrote the following back to him:

Based on the information I have available to me, I'm against it. Google scanning it and distributing it sans payment or contract is no different than if you scanned it in and put it up on your website. It deprives me of my electronic rights without benefit of compensation or contractual agreement.

Am I against eBooks? No. Although currently a small share of the market, they are a valid form of distribution preferred by some readers. I'm also not against audiobooks, paperbacks, or translating the work into different languages for publication in other countries. But, there are established methods for attaining the rights to produce such materials and Google is circumventing those methods. They are ignoring legal precedent by attempting an "opt-out" approach (the copyright holders must find out what we're up to and tell us they're not interested if they don't want us to do this with their works) rather than an "opt-in" approach (they would need to approach the copyright holders to obtain permission prior to proceeding).

It is this "opt-out" approach that is the most galling and concerning to me, not the proposed eBook library. Should it succeed, then it sets precedent for anyone to use copyrighted material without first contacting or alerting the copyright holder. For many reasons, this is a bad, bad thing.

Honestly, I don't think Google will be able to go forward. Although I'm not a lawyer, this case is similar in my mind to Tasini v. New York Times. This, interestingly enough, was argued when I was just starting out as a freelancer and was an employee of Lexis-Nexis, one of the defendants in the case. Despite all the propaganda at the office, my sympathies were with the freelancers in that case and the freelancers did win. The paraphrased/summarized ruling in that case was simply: new technology does not change copyright law or the rights previously sold by the author.

See, my main problem is not with the proposed electronic library itself, but with Google's methods of creating it. The idea of an online library intrigues my inner techno-geek. I do lots of research online as it is. I'm a great fan of Sacred Texts, but those texts are in the public domain. Their copyright expired long, long ago. In many cases, it expired centuries before copyright law even existed.

This is just one more example of Corporate America ignoring the rights of the individual and the little guy for their own economic gain. Google argues that what they are doing is just 'fair use'. I argue good business doesn't have to be about bad ethics.

Night: The Time of Life

2005-08-12T23:59:00.000-07:00

There's something about the night that speaks to me. It stirs my soul and reawakens my sense of self. Starry nights. Moonless nights. Overcast nights. Whether I am standing on my porch, padding barefoot through the grass next to my driveway, or slipping out the door to take an illicit walk through the neighborhood, I am more alive at night.

Daytime is fine. The sun, warm on flesh, feeds my biological needs. It makes the grass grow and warms the earth. It brings out the squirrels and rabbits that chase each other through my yard and around the trees. But the daytime belongs to everyone. The energy of civilization trying to catch up with itself is deadening.

By the bright light of day, I know what I have to accomplish. But in the dark, I know who I am.

Or maybe I'm just weird.

Don't forget

2005-08-09T02:29:00.000-07:00

The next few days, especially August 12, should be good for star-gazing. The Perseids are just about to peak.

Any excuse to stand outside late at night and stare skyward, filled with wonder. What runs through your head, the instant you see a shooting star?

Edited to add: As of just a few moments ago, the Discovery is safe on the ground. Yay, astronauts! Yay, NASA! Now, if only we could build a shuttle that didn't have shit falling off of it all the way through its journey.

2 + 2

2005-08-02T02:44:00.000-07:00

My brother wants to hear our father say, "I'm proud of you, Son." It's a bit of a problem. Logistically, I mean. Dad's been dead for nearly six years.

But I think they may finally be making peace with one another. And of all things, it is math that's bringing them together.

When he was in high school, my brother not only struggled with math, he hated it. Despised it. He tried to avoid taking even the basic classes required for high school graduation. In classic teenage-style, he informed our father that he would never need math when he grew up. This was bad. Dad loved math. He excelled at it. He could do complex problems in his head. And he knew how much he used it every day in his profession, the same profession my brother wanted to pursue.

Last night, my brother called me. He informed me he had two brain cells. This was up from the half of a functioning brain cell he had last Friday. They are multiplying. Last Friday, he completed a two-week long Level II Accident Reconstruction course. It took algebra, geometry, and even some trigonometry. My brother used vectors, the Pythagorean Theorem, and advanced calculations involving three dimensions. He struggled, but he passed.

Dad would've been proud.

Newsworthy: Latoyia Figueroa

2005-07-28T16:22:00.000-07:00

A question for the working and aspiring journalists and non-fiction writers out there: What makes a story newsworthy? When you have two similar stories, what makes one worth telling and another one not?

On December 24, 2002, Laci Peterson was reported missing from her California home. Young, pretty, smiling, and pregnant, the nation rallied support in an effort to locate Laci and her unborn son Connor. Their disappearance, the discovery of their bodies, the subsequent arrest and conviction of her husband Scott for their murders was national news, covered by such media giants as CNN, MSNBC, and CourtTV.

On July 18 of this year, another young, pretty, smiling, and pregnant woman was reported missing. Her name is Latoyia Figueroa. She is from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, single, and African-American. After nine days, CNN ran a short article on their website. Most of the media attention provided to this story during the first week and half has been from local and regional sources and from bloggers who have heard about the case.

What is the difference? Why was one story set up to capture the heart of the nation shortly after the first missing persons report was made and the other virtually ignored by national media?

For all Coyotes, everywhere, who are howling alone in the night, may someone, somewhere, hear your cries.

Poets Need Not Apply

2005-07-24T01:40:00.000-07:00

Plato did not want to admit poets, otherwise known as writers, into his Ideal Republic. Poetry, in his mind, was inferior, an imitation of a copy of an original. Not only did it serve no purpose, it confused people by appealing to the inferior portions of the soul.

Later, Aristotle argued the opposite. Well-written poetry, the fiction of Aristotle's age, provided a system of checks and balances, a controlled method for citizens to release their emotions.

Ever since, the debate has continued.

What do storytellers, writers, purveyors of tales, poets contribute to society?

What If?

2005-07-18T22:27:00.000-07:00

I've long wondered what would have happened if, in the mid-1800's, the abolitionists and the suffragists had united to demand equality for all rather than struggling separately for equality for African-Americans and equality for women.

At the Women's Rights Convention in Akron, Ohio in 1851, many of the suffragists were concerned when Sojourner Truth arrived. Throughout the first day, she sat quietly in the corner, listening and watching as the men, particularly the clergy, heckled and berated the 'unnatural' women attempting to speak for women's rights. The suffragists did not want their infant cause mixed up with the cause of the abolitionists. Many advised the chairwoman not to permit Sojourner Truth to speak.

On the second day, Sojourner Truth rose and approached the podium. The suffragists continued to whisper to the chairwoman, "Don't let her speak." The clergy and other men present hissed.

Sojourner's impromptu speech, handed down through history as "Ain't I A Woman?" has become legendary. Powerful and moving, it spoke above the hypocrisy of the crowd.

This is the power of words.

I want to hate Hemingway

2005-07-18T03:55:00.000-07:00

I really do. I want to resist that spare, bare-bones, masculine approach to writing. I want lush words and beauty of sound and style. I want swashbuckling prose with ruffles and panache, both robust and beautiful.

Then I read something like this:
"Water stood in pools on the gravel paths. The sea broke in a long line in the rain and slipped back down the beach to come up and break again in a long line in the rain. " (from "Cat in the Rain")

It's a beautiful couple of sentences.

Never mind the rest of the language in the story is ugly as hell. It's almost worth reading the thing for those sentences together, splashing in my ears.

What do you hear when you read?

test

2005-07-18T00:29:00.000-07:00

one... two... three

Write wild. Write as hard as you dare. Write for yourself.