04 October 2006

So Long and Thanks For All the Fish

463 post.

That's what it reads.

463 posts. Assuming the drafts aren't being counted, too, you could read one a day and not read them all, Don't know why you'd want to do read them like that, but you could.

My God.

I wasn't as constant a poster as I wanted to be, but I never stopped writing in this journal. I never gave it up and moved on to something else. I always came back to it. Always tweaking it. Always working on it to make it better.

Maybe that's why it's so hard to leave.

I said I was going to give it till year's end, and I honestly thought I would. But working at the other blog, on the previous post, in fact, I started thinking how much time I was wasting. How much space. Seems a bit foolish. A bit selfish. On this, the other blog is... well... better. I can't format the thing the way I could do this, and that makes me sad, but I can make it look just different enough from the other sites, so that's okay.

It's okay.

I'm going to miss coming here, seeing all of my images displayed, the little thrill of pride knowing that I did this, I tweaked the site into this, it's mine and everyone can see it.

I need a proper website.

But that's neither here nor there.

This will be, for the foreseeable future, the last post I make here at Blogger. Something might happen. I might come back. I hope the site will still be here. I hope it will always be here. I hope someone finds it and walks away a bit happier, a bit wiser.

And I hope whoever that person is follows me over to the new blog. Cause I ain't done yet.

Whatever comes next, comes next. I've reformatted this site one last time, closed the doors, and turned off the lights. Time to move on.

This has been your narrator, Cullen M. M. Waters

Goodbye. Hope to see you again real soon.

Mini Reviews (II): Night of the Blood Beast, El sonido prehistórico/Sound of Horror, and Dead End

More Mini Reviews! Such fun. Three this time, of varying quality and worth.

Night of the Blood Beast

A space pilot miraculously returns to life after a devastating crash to find himself pregnant with alien spore. Meanwhile, the papa alien is roaming about causing havoc.

Paging Professor Quatermass and Beluah from Venus. Your plots have been stolen and mangled together. Quite the mess, no hope for salvation.

That's probably unkind and unfair. But... This movie did have some potential. I started watching it, giving it the full benefit of the doubt, and bit by bit it lost me. It wasn't the big headed alien or the questionable science, or even the pilot, who's continued existence is not quite adequately explained. It was just an overwhelming sense of tedium brought to the proceedings. I couldn't help but think that maybe if it had Roger Corman as the director it might have been a contender. But alas, Corman was only an executive producer.


El sonido prehistórico/Sound of Horror

Treasure hunters disturb an invisible dinosaur and fun is had by all... save the viewers of this film.

This is one dull movie.

A story about an invisible dinosaur sounds promising enough. I guess. In principle. But in practice...

The monster doesn't show up until half way through the film, and by that time you've heard so much about this treasure, the people looking for the treasure, how weak women are, and so on that you start praying for the monster to arrive.

Or fast forwarding to the monster bits.

Which was what I did.

Be warned: The monster bits aren't worth it.


Dead End

A father tries a new route and sends his family into a nightmare.

And now for something completely different: a good Horror movie.

Anyone who has spent as much time watching Horror films as I have will know where this one's heading long before any of the protagonists do. This does not mean that this is a waste of your time. Far from it. Unlike the first film mentioned in this post, this movie plays with its basic situation, adding fresh moments and dark humor to the proceedings. In the end, it proves itself a worthy entry into its own particular subgenre.

All that effort not to spoil things and I've probably ruined the whole thing.

Give it a shot. I think you'll be glad you did.

03 October 2006

Doctor Who Series 2 - First Season - Capsule Reviews (1)

We begin our look at the new Doctor Who series. Specifically, the first season.


Rose

written by Russell T. Davis

All Rose Tyler wants to do is to go home from work. However, a chance encounter leads her to an alien invasion and the mysterious traveler known as the Doctor.

It's interesting to compare this episode to the disastrous Doctor Who movie. In both we have a.) an introduction to the Doctor and the Tardis, b.) an introduction to a new companion for the Doctor, and c.) an introduction to an old enemy of the Doctor's. A lot of ground to cover, I say, and all too easy to botch.

Not only does this episode handle all of this in less time than the movie, it also a.) establishes a running themes for the series (i.e. mentioning of a Time War), b.) gives the companion far more characterization, down to family member and boyfriend, and c.) has more depth and intelligence to its plot. It's almost appalling how much better Rose is.

For all of that, though, it never feels like a Doctor Who episode to me. A certain quality is missing from Davis's script, one that I'm not sure that I can explain. I think you'd have to have watched the first series for years to really know what I mean. It's not that Rose is bad, or that I don't like it. It's just not Who. I'd have liked it a lot better had it been the opener to another show.

One last gripe: the aliens used in this episode? Could have used a bit more screen time and been a bit closer to their roots. Although I'm a bit of a fan of theirs, so I might be bias...


The End of the World

written by Russell T. Davis

The Doctor takes Rose to a very special party, one that's about to be crashed by nasty little invaders.

This one, however, is much closer to what I want out of my Doctor Who. It feels like something out of the Seventh Doctor's tenure. That's not my favorite portion of Doctor Who history (always with the caveats, aren't I?) but it's still in the right direction for me.

A nice variety of alien life is presented here, and you can see just how much better the new series will be practical effects-wise. On this, the CGI work is extremely well done.

Once more, the characters have depth to them and you do feel for those who go. It's around this episode I started liking Christopher Eccleston as the Doctor. It feels like he's getting his footing here. Especially good is his line on finding Rose in trouble ("Oh well, it would be you!"), as well as his various reactions to all things related to the Time War.

I think it was about here that most of my concerns vanished for the new series. If not, then they vanished with...



The Unquiet Dead

written by Mark Gatiss

The Doctor and Rose's next stop leads them to a spooky encounter with the undead.

This one's one of my favorites, and I had the Dickens of a time writing the synopsis as not to spoil the fun. If you want to know what I think Doctor Who should be, look no farther than this episode. It's smart, funny, and scary. With a few changes here and there, this story could have popped up at any point post Hartnell Doctor Who and fit right in. That it's better than a lot of the classic Who stories is just icing on the cake.

If I had one complaint to make (and you knew I would have one complaint) , it's the episode feels rushed. It's a feeling I got a lot while watching the new series. Maybe I'm just too used to the old series' pacing.

One other thing: It's about here I started noticing one of the "failings" of Eccleston's Doctor. I won't go into it here, as it is a wee bit of a spoiler. However, I will discuss it in the series overview, which should come after I finish with reviewing the seasons.


This concludes the first part of these reviews.
These reviews are being "simulcast" at two blog sites. But not for long. Almost made up my mind...

29 September 2006

Ouchie

Here's a fun little quiz for you. What's wrong with this picture?


Bear in mind that this is on a comic book cover. A sample of what images you might find within. (Although, in all honesty, it's been years since you could tell what a comic was about by simply looking at the cover.)

I'm sure that we don't need to belabor points on this. The lady appears to have a wee back problem. She is either kin to Elastigirl or recently punched from behind by the Incredible Hulk. When we highlight her back and front, we find she has a wasp figure.

Literally.


But the anatomical nightmare she represents isn't what's wrong with this picture. ¡Por supuesto no!

What's wrong with the picture, then? That this seems to be the norm in comics. That there is someone out there who finds this attractive. Or well drawn.

I'm not the greatest artist out there (yet). My drawings don't have the level of detail in them that this one does (yet). However, in my overwhelming ignorance, I can see how this is wrong.

I mean, ouchie. That pose looks like it hurts.

This post is being "simulcast" over at our sister site at welltuncares.wordpress.com. The author is considering moving his blog. Thee decision should occur no later than end of the year. We apologize for any hassle this causes and thank the readers for their patience.

28 September 2006

In Which the Narrator Talks of Change

No indenting for today. I have spoken!

Any ways, couple of things to relay:
  • I went and opened up ANOTHER blog. This is a mirror to this site, down to the name. If you want to check it out, you may go here. Don't go changing links quite yet though. The service, Wordpress, is, and pardon my crudity, giving me the red ass. It's not as user friendly as I'd like it to be, my formats were not carried over from Blogger (i.e. blockquotes don't always look like blockquotes) and so forth. On this, tags? Useful, but a pain to install in over 400 entries. My dance with Wordpress may be oh so brief.
  • Oh. Over 400 entries on this blog. Can I get a "Hell yeah!" Not bad for a man who never follows through on projects.
  • Next couple of days may, may I say, deal with the presentation of the female form in comics, art, and anime. I mentioned this at a previous time. I promised a tasteful posting. I can no longer guarentee this. Right now I have one semi nude (a museum quality piece of art, not porn in any way) and at least two non-nudes that I suspect will offend. The title of this questionable essay will be The Infamous Breasts Essay and will be hidden to a degree by a link. I reiterate, the essay may well offend some sensibilites. So Mom, Dad, you might not want to read this one at work.
  • Guarenteed, though, is a significant rise in Doctor Who related content. Wait and see.
  • No post is worth posting three times. Especially this one. [sighs] And you were doing so good, Blogger...

27 September 2006

Rules of the Game

When I speak of "rules", I speak of the conditions that define and limit fantastic subjects, such as monsters, super heroes, and magic. The basic "natural" laws that allow what would be impossible in the real world. What the supernatural and preternatural can and can not do.

Read enough Fantasy and Horror and you'll see them crop up with great regularity. Same holds true for Science Fiction, of course, but let's put that portion of the talk off for another day.

An excellent example of rules in the Fantastic Genre would be Gremlins, specifically for the Mogwai. They are:

  • Keep it away from bright light. Sunlight can kill it

  • Don't get it wet.

  • Never, never ever feed it after midnight.

The first rule sets a limitation, the last two are powers the creature has. How the Mogwai and the Gremlins behave during the movie is defined by their rules. Each one has consequences when broken and the consequences are fully explore.

Without rules, you have characters and creatures who can do anything. The most common example for this is Superman. Back in the day, he had super-this and super-that. If he didn't have a power to match the situation, you could bet he'd whip something up that would work. On all of this he tended to be a step or two ahead of everyone else he dealt with.

This isn't, of course, to say Superman had no rules. Green Kryptonite kills him, he's weak against magic, and so on. However, all of this was put into play after the fact. When the Last Son of Krypton could do anything that needed done, it became a bit difficult to write for him. Thus these weaknesses (rules) were given to him.

Another excellent example is Bugs Bunny. That Wascally Wabbit can do whatever the script requires of him. Seldom, if ever, are we concerned about his well being. We laugh at his antics, we enjoy his triumphs, but how involved are we in his life? Especially when we know the next time we see him, he'll be in a whole new situation.

The rules of anything, be it monster or magic spell, super hero or super villain, should be expressed, if not early in the proceedings, then well before the tale is coming to a conclusion. Doing otherwise runs the risk of giving the story the meddling of a Deus ex Machina. Which, as we all know, is a Bad Thing.

You also run the risk of alienating the readers if the rules you're playing with aren't the same as the ones they are expecting.

As a for instance, what are the rules for classic werewolves?

Depends, of course, on what you consider "classic", doesn't it?

That in mind, I would say that the rules most people would recite would be are as follow:

  • A person becomes a werewolf due to being bitten by a werewolf.

  • They change into werewolves on the rise of the full moon.

  • Silver bullets (or silver in general) kills them.

Pretty standard, right?

Except when I think "classic", I don't think of those rules. They're "Hollywood Classic", stemming from Curt Siodmak's work in The Wolf Man. They work, but, for me, the old ways are best. A wizard wearing wolf skin, using his arts to disguise himself as an animal. A baby born on Christmas Day becomes a werewolf in his manhood. Regular weapons work just as well as silver. Stuff like that.

If I was to use one of these types of classic werewolves, it would behoove me to mention it. That way, when the main character doesn't wolf out over being bitten or my werewolf dies in a hail of real bullets, the readers are neither surprised nor disappointed.

(Unless, of course, they prefer reading about "Hollywood Classic". But that's another ball of wax.)

One further thing about rules. Sometimes their very existence leads to story ideas.

Let's look back at The Wolf Man and his rules. In addition to the three I mentioned, his victims are marked with a pentagram. This suggests a mystical connection to the curse. Coupled with how the curse spreads, this leads to several questions:

  • Who was the first Werewolf?

  • Why was he (or she) cursed?

  • Who cursed them?

  • Why is the curse spread at all?

  • How are the victims chosen? What if one escapes? is another one chosen the next night? Or does the werewolf keep trying until he (or she) gets it right?

  • Why, exactly, does silver kill werewolves? (Iron, traditionally, was a bane to magical creatures. Why not iron instead of silver? Or as well as silver?)

  • Why limit the transformation to the full moon? Is it tied to "the crazies come out for the full moon" myth?

As I recall it, none of these points are addressed in the movie. None of them really needed to be, either, any more than the restrictions placed on the Mogwai needed to be dwelt upon. However, by having an answer, even if you never reveal it outright, you can in theory enrich what your writing.

Or, at least, that's what I keep telling myself as I work on my endless notes.

25 September 2006

23 September 2006

Oh Blighted Night! Oh Befouled Day!

I had such plans for this day of days. Perhaps a post on the Importance of Rules. Perhaps a bit of discourse on a motion picture or television show. Mayhap even a discussion on Famed and SLANDERED rulers of comic book lore. Such thoughts bubbled fierce behind my eyes. I could almost smell wood burning, though that was no doubt just a coincidence.

All of these possibilities and yet NONE OF THIS SHALL COME TO PASS THIS DAY!

"Why," you might cry out to the uncaring skies. "Why are we, the loyal publick deprived of the wit and wisdom of the Grand Master Cullen M. M. Waters? What TERRIBLE HAPPENING has occurred to thwart his will? Did a butterfly flutter past his view? Did he get up from his computer to get a peanut butter sandwich and forget to return? Has Linda Cardellini returned his phone call?"

I SAY THEE NAY!

I received a cellular phone call from that FOUL villain known the world over as Brother Eric. I was told that he had good news, but what he spoke of was but PAIN and MISERY to my ears! Once more he had accomplished something BEFORE ME! ON PURPOSE NO LESS!

You must understand that this has always been his way. I tried my best to show him the proper way, mind you. I did my duty as a brother!

When he wanted to learn how to drive, I suggested patience and caution. "Wait into a more stable age. Late twenties, early thirties. Like me." But did he listen? NO! He was driving in his early twenties like a man possessed! With the skills of a driver!

When he started courting the opposite sex, I told him, "Hold off! Those of the female gender have what is in the common vernacular called the 'Cooties'! Wait until your immune system matures. Like me." But did he listen to me? NO! He even attended his prom, the heartless MONSTER!

But now, oh now, he has GONE TOO FAR! He has submitted his poetry to an online contest and won a place in a book! Made of DEAD TREES no less!

Does his dastardly nature know no bounds?

I forget the specifics at this juncture, my head is a maze of conflicting thoughts and horrors. But I know that once more he hath bested me! ME! The great all powerful ME!

Curse you, Reed Richards!!!!!

I mean Eric Waters!!!!!

Now there is but one recourse remaining to me...

The above image, sans the purple prose of Stan "the Man" Lee, is the work of Jack Kirby. It originally appeared in Fantastic Four Annual #2 in 1964. I lifted the image from Polite Dissent, specifically from the link on this page. All copyrights to the picture itself belong to Marvel as far as I know. The sentiments expressed in the panels, however, come from my own fevered brain.

My brother Eric has indeed been published, though technically not first. First poem, maybe. First work that can be acquired in stores definitely. When I have more word, I'll give it. [FUTURE CULLEN sez: The books tenative title is Immortal Verses, something that Eric is hoping will be changed. The site he hit was Poetry.com]

Until then, congratulations to Eric on a job well done. I hope he doesn't mind his brother over reacting too much.

Boy is this mask stuffy.

22 September 2006

In Which Our Narrator Grumbles To Himself

You think a guy with an uncle named Henry could spell the name. But noooooo....

Fantastic Writers - Mark Twain

When one thinks of Mark Twain, one does not think "Fantastic Writer." Or, at least, Fantastic Writer in the sense I use it. Huck Finn comes quickly to mind, as well as Tom Sawyer and, perhaps to a lesser degree, The Prince and the Pauper. However, he did write A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, a time travel tale*, and thus he does have a place on this site.

Now I could talk on Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer, as I've read both a time or two in my life. But ACYiKAC... I read a Little Big book when I was a wee Cullen and that's about it. I suppose I could toddle through the internet and dig up a copy (Wiki no doubt has the links), but I'm feeling lazy.

Instead, I'd like to talk about some of his comments on writing. The man not only had a devastating wit, he had some excellent thoughts on the craft, and, really, life.


"Classic." A book which people praise and don't read.

Wonder if he ever suspected his works would be considered classics? On that, a thought: What good is a book that isn't read? Let me be thought a hack and read by millions than honored as a genius and read by a few. Or none.

The difference between the right word and the almost right word is really a large matter- it's the difference between a lightning bug and the lightning.

Amen. Amen, amen, amen.

To promise not to do a thing is the surest way in the world to make a body want to go and do that very thing.

It's... it's like he's talking about my constant promises of a consistent schedule.

My God. Y' don't think... Mark Twain reads my blog?

Well I thought it was funny.

Quick! Don't think of a polar bear!

Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.

BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR.

I'm thinking of putting this in front of all of my novels. In bold face, flashing text.

Yeah, like I'll ever be in that sort of danger.

Also, yet again, wonder if he even dreamed his work would be analyzed and reanalyzed throughout the decades to come?

The humorous story is told gravely; the teller does his best to conceal the fact that he even dimly suspects that there is anything funny about it.

This is should be my motto, but, with this essay alone, you can see how far I fall. Oh well.


* Wiki suggests it's the first steam punk novel, as well as the start of a whole subgenre of science fiction. Not bad at all, I say.

19 September 2006

To Outline or Not To Outline

Stephen King, according to his book On Writing, does not believe in outlining. He claims that two of his worst books were based on outlines.

Terry Brooks, writer of the Shannara series, uses and recommends outlines.

David Morrell, writer of The Totem and First Blood, uses a self interview process.

H. P. Lovecraft, Grand Master of Weird fiction, would sometimes write down his dreams, but by and large followed outlines. In fact, according to Old Providence himself, he would write two outlines, one "in the order of their absolute occurrence", the other "in order of narration."

Now I do a great bit more that flatter myself by mentioning myself in any connection with the above four (pretty close to slandering them all with the comparison, as a matter of fact), but how do I say it should be done?

Well, let me put it to you this way.

Right now, I'm in the middle of writing an outline. I have attempted doing this before and have puttered out before finishing. As a point of fact, I have written nothing fictional based on an outline.

However, the first novel I finished I did without an outline and it was a mess. I've puttered out of more novels than I have outlines. We won't even discuss short stories. I have fragments galore that just. Might. Be. Something. Maybe. Someday.

So, let's not kid ourselves by thinking I know the One True Path.

This is what I think I know, though, for what it's worth.

I think that if you base your outline on your characters and not your characters on your outline, you'd be better off.

I think that if you can rattle a story off the top of your head, you're better off than the guy struggling through an outline.

I think in many, many ways, the first draft is the outline, or at least all the outline you'll ever need. I also think that there are some writers who can only do one draft. (Hi there! This is me.)

I think that if one of your characters strays from your outline, you let him or her do his or her thing. The character may well know more about what he or she wants to do than you do. And that outline isn't going anywhere.

In the end, I think every writer finds their own way. It's not the most helpful of answers, but in my fumbling around at this craft, I think it's the truest.


17 September 2006

Charles L. Grant

On the same day my Grandfather died, so too went Dark Fantasy writer Charles Grant. His works of Quiet Horror include The Hour of the Oxrun Dead, The Pet, Jackals, and Something Stirs. He also edited the anthology series Shadows, which is one of the best Horror anthologies out there.

I wasn't the biggest fan of his short stories. I owned an anthology of his short stories (the title of which escapes me) which I ended up selling, a rarety for me. I noticed a certain pattern in every story and it ruined the collection for me.

This, of course, shouldn't be taken as a utter condemnation of his short stories. He has some outstanding works. My beef is a Cullen beef, and thus can be safely ignored.

His novels were, on the whole, excellent. Jackals is one of the better Werewolf type novels out there (right up there with David Morell's Totem.)

15 September 2006

Grandpa Vickerman

About thirty minutes before I made my last post, my Grandfather passed away. He was the last of my grandparents still living.

During his life, he was a difficult man to deal with, from what I've heard. My own experiences with him had a share of ups and downs. The last few years of his life he lived with my Aunt Jeri. By that stage he wasn't the man he was. About a month ago he had several set backs that left him even less than that.

I'm not quite sure what to say more on the matter. Perhaps I should talk a bit more about him, perhaps this is enough. I will say this is yet another reminder of all of our mortalities, and another reason to get the novel done.

I will speak again when I speak again. Right now I'm taking my Mom to my Aunt's.

Be well and happy, everyone.

In Which Our Narrator, Humbled Once Again By His Inability to Follow Through On a Schedule, Apologizes and Explains

And another week's planning blown down the tubes! Hurray!

It started Saturday with Family Problems (Brother Todd had an eye infection that prevented him from seeing) and progressed from there. While I did warn you all of this possibility, it still shames me to do it. One day I will either a.) not say anything at all or b.) follow through, instead of going with c.) trying and giving up mid-way through. In any case, I am sorry for failing yet again.

There was a time where I was going to use this site on a cover sheet. That's now a private joke for me.

Right now, I'm working on an outline for NaNoWriMo. For this site... well, let's see what turns up, shall we?

Once more, sorry about not delivering the promised essays. Thank you for your reading.

10 September 2006

Krevan

Long time readers might recognize the name Krevan as the main character of my abomination of a first novel, "The Crawl of Chufule". He is also the character pictured at the top of the page, as well as featured in one of the mock posters. Odds are good he'll be featured in my drastic redo of "The Crawl of Chufule", called "Chufule's Calling" so as not to confuse anyone.

He originally was going to be the main character of the webcomic I was thinking of doing. Thus I have quite a few sketches of him. (In fact, I lost a damn good one not the other day...)

What you see to the right is the evolution of the character and, by and large, the evolution of my drawing.

Large picture upper right is the very first image of the character. It was drawn on...

Sigh.

It was drawn on Microsoft Paint. Back in the day, I loved Paint. Wouldn't think of using Jasc. I understood it and it understood me. Unfortunately, it was crap and I don't use it any more.

The smaller picture towards the upper left is, I believe, the first drawing of Krevan, period. In fact, I think the order in which they were drawn (created) goes something like this: Upper Right, Upper Left, Beneath Upper Left, Middle Right, Next Left, Beneath Next Left, and back to Bottom Right. And if that made any sense to you, consider yourself a Genius! You'd be a Super Genius if you could explain why I have it set up like that at all. Cause I can't.


That bottom right image, incidentally, is the definitive one. I can't think of Krevan without thinking of that image. (Though the running image is a close second.) My style doesn't really match it any more, and, for whatever reasons, I can't duplicate it or surpass it.


At right are two more recent attempts, the left the most recent, the right touched up by Jasc. They're not bad. Just not quite right.

Though, they may be growing on me.

Other characters change like the wind. He remains. Is it no wonder I'm thinking of trying him again?

In Which Our Miffed Narrator Screams. A Lot.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
[intake breath]
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
[intake breath]
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
[intake breath]
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Can someone, anyone, explain to me why a black and white text document needs FREAKING PHOTO CYAN! Has someone complained about not getting enough color in their BLACK AND WHITE DOCUMENT!


AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

How am I supposed to work in these conditions? I was promised smart computers as a youth! Smart! Ones that WOULD PRINT MY DOCUMENTS THE WAY I WANT THEM

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Argh!
Argh!
Argh!

I am not amused.

Fortunately I have my blog site to vent. My blog never, eve +++r f@¡|$ m3+++ H0^^3r ¡$ +h3 d3v¡|!+++%%

09 September 2006

Cod Gamera

And no, it's not a Gamera that looks like a cod. Though that was tempting. Still is, actually...

We'll start off by looking at the original, to the right here. I have no working scanner, so every thing is currently being put into the computer via digital camera. I have no idea if the picture is blurry because of the camera or me. Probably both. But that should give you a feel of what it looks like.

What I did was find a picture of a turtle in one of my how-to books, sketched the image out, and added tusks to it. All said and done, it doesn't look that much like Gamera. Not the right type of turtle. Also, the eyes are mishapened, the front's crooked... but that's being petty. This is damn good work, I think, and I hate it that the Jasc version's the only one I can really show off.

This is the finished product. The curves and lines were redone with Jasc's line function. Also, I did a bit of cut and paste to make both sides symmetrical. What's really pleasing is that it's not too terribly different from the original. My line control is definitely improving.

I originally tried to do some sort of crosshatching, which looked... okay in black and white. Colored in... Not so much so.

I used a Jasc tool called "Soften" to blur the crosshatching. The effect isn't that bad, I think.

All the colors used in the picture, save the background and the black lines themselves, were drawn from the "real" Gamera.

Tomorrow, another sketch.

08 September 2006

The Lost Art of Debate

We as a nation have lost the ability to debate. Or maybe we never had it.

What inspires this, you ask. Was it listening to Democans/Republicrat commentators on the TV? Was it reading one of Plato's works? Was it listening to scientists discuss the latest theory of the farts of poodles affecting the Ozone Layer? (And I mean affecting. These are the jokes, we all have to deal that.)

No. Of course not. I was reading blogs. What else do I do with my time?

There was a big ruckus at one of the blogs I frequent, big enough to cause hurt feelings. Some left the blog perhaps never to return. Of these, at least two had blogs of their own. I journeyed to them, read the injured parties' thoughts on the matter, and the little gray cells in my head started a sparkin' over another blog entry. (Yep! Both of them! Firing as one! Who'd've thunk it?)

Now, contrary to standard practices here at Welltun Cares Presents, I'm not going to link the sites. It doesn't matter who was right or wrong, or if there was a history of such between the parties. We will say Yes and No and leave it at that.

What I find more interesting was the venting of the "wounded" parties. The two of them talked about how the offender was "surrounded by Yes People" and there was no one at the blogs to "give a wake up call to reality" for the offender. It struck me as a tad self righteous of both of them, all things considered, but I have no illusions about myself. My own personal quirks can cloud by vision sometimes. They could well be right and I be wrong. It's that time of year, after all.

But, even more interesting was in the comment sections of both blogs. There were three or four comments saying just how right the wounded parties were and isn't it a shame? And neither blogger made any note about these "Yes People", or suggesting that they should have another opinion maybe, to keep everyone in touch with reality.

I'm not saying these two bloggers or the commenters were in anyway wrong in what they were saying. Not in the slightest. But, in the words of one of the Great Poets, it's a little bit ironic, don't you think?

Okay, so Alanis Morissette isn't one of the Great Poets. I couldn't think of anything from Shakespeare or Emily Dickerson that fit the situation. What do you want from me? I'm just. One. Man.

Or a roomful of monkeys pounding on a keyboard. I mean, given enough time...

Whenever we start discussing things, debating things, or arguing things, we usually enter believing that we are right. Which is the way it should be. What's the point of getting into things if you know your wrong?

But you have to allow the possibility that your viewpoint might be wrong, too. You have to listen and consider what was being said. It is possible to change your mind. And how are you going to change anyone's mind yourself if you're not going to honestly examine the other person's words?

No one seems able to do that anymore. Accusations start flying at the drop of a hat. You've got a closed mind. You're not listening. You're blind. You're a fool. You're a fascist, You're a pinko. You're a potty mouth. You're a doo-doo head. On and on and on and on and on. Like a blogger with only two gray cells rattling in his head.

Ahem.

We've become a nation of fanatics convinced we bear the One Truth. Hell's teeth, the world's full of people like that who will not bend, who will not accept that they could be wrong. I know I've been one of them, to my shame, and no doubt I will be one of them again at the drop of a dime.

It needs to stop. It needs correcting.

And how do we fix this?

Damned if I know. I'm no wise man. It's just has to be done, for all of our sakes.

I'm just glad that, with my blog, I've got readers who delight in pointing out my mistakes. Who revel in every little error. Who rejoice in my sloppiness.

And that's just my family.

Now that I think about it, this place could use a few Yes People scattered about. Wonder how you get them. E-bay?

That's a problem for later. Hunger looms. We've got to go to the kitchen and get ourselves some nice bannanas...

In Which Plans Are Made By Our Notoriously Unreliable Narrator

Here's my plan for the next 4 or 5 days:

  • This weekend I plan to post two new sketches. My ego, it seems, still burns after revealing those old cartoons. Both of these drawings will be of recent vintage.
  • On Monday, I'll be posting a Horror short short story (or maybe the correct term is "microstory"). It's 1040 words long, which might be a wee bit long for a normal post. If It looks too big, I'll post it in installments.
  • Tuesday, or there about, I'm thinking of reviewing The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms. It might be, might be I say, followed by the long promised Beast/Gojira comparison Essay.

As always, let me repeat that this Journal is run by whim alone. Sometimes whim means me publishing something without spell checking. Sometimes that means doing something completely different than what I thought I would. Sometimes that means posting an angry rant about writers who can't keep their hands to themselves, only to pull that essay down again later.

You never can tell with me. I can never tell with me.

07 September 2006

In Which A SEAL IS BORN!

Found another site. This one's called Official Seal Generator. Kind of a fun way to kill some time with.

Below is my seal, the offical seal of Welltun Cares Presents:
I think that covers everything...