GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #61: IDENTITY

A lot of people know me as a bizarro writer. I've written bizarro a few times, but I don't consider myself a bizarro writer. (Maybe this caused me to lose votes for the Wonderland final ballot in regards to TALES OF QUESTIONABLE TASTE. That would suck, but I'm not going to lose too much sleep over it. The fact that anyone read that book is balm in Gilead to me.)


A ton of people know me as a horror writer. I've written horror more times than anything else I've ever written, but I don't consider myself a horror writer.


A smattering of people know me as a crime writer. I've written crime a few times, but I don't consider myself a crime writer.


I consider myself a writer. Period. Anything that pops up in my head? I'll write it. Even if it's a gothic romance. (And believe you me, I have a gothic romance idea in my head. I've had it for at least twenty years. I just don't know how to write it yet.)


I've said it many times: Joe R. Lansdale is my favorite living writer. Notice I didn't clarify the term "writer." The guy has written in so many different genres, I couldn't modify the term if I had ten million years. I wouldn't want to, either. Since I was a kid, I wrote mysteries. Secondary to that were horror stories. After that, I wrote just about everything, including straight-up literary stories that might have caught the attention of the Paris Review, if I'd been more mature at the time.


This isn't to say I'm a snob. I'm far from it. I just don't get the need to classify everything. I get the desire to fit a story into a particular box, at least when it comes to marketing (for one), and finding an audience (for another). But to label the person who created that story? That's insane.


And honestly? Labeling a reader is kind of crazy, too.


I love horror stories. I also love bizarro. I love SF tales and on occasion, I get a kick out of those supposedly straight-up literary works, at least the ones that don't involve a parent dying of cancer just so the protagonist can learn something about him/herself. I would never call myself a horror reader. Or a bizarro reader. Etc. I'm a reader. Period.


It seems kind of silly, but a lot of writers and readers seem bent on making their various genres EXCLUSIVE instead of INCLUSIVE. This baffles me so much, I can't get my head around it. As a writer, I try to see things from EVERYONE's POV, but this one? It's too crazy for me to figure it out, aside from the fact that those who seek exclusivity are those who want to feel like they're in a club that no one else is allowed into. I get people wanting to feel special, but I don't get people wanting to push like-minded people away.


A bizarro writer recently said something reprehensible. I get why this person said it, because I understand a desire to not be pigeonholed. Yet at the same time, he said it in such a way that is inexcusable. It was poorly thought out. He caught a lot of heat, and he should have.


I generally like the guy. I've enjoyed his books. I can't speak for personal involvement, because I personally don't know him. I've never had a single exchange with him. But he went off on a particular genre, saying things that aren't true to make himself seem more important. Again, I get the desire to transcend, but to shit on something for self-important reasons is crazy.


I'm not a horror writer. I'm not a bizarro writer. I'm not a crime writer. But I love horror. I love bizarro. I love crime. And I love everyone who writes and reads in these genres because I want to spread word about the things I enjoy.


When I was in college, I started writing reviews for the local newspaper. Here's the thing, though: I only wrote reviews of things I enjoyed. Why? Because I wanted to spread word about a work of art that turned me on. I didn't want to be the lone voice shouting in the wilderness. I wanted someone to discuss these things with. It took a great deal of stupidity and/or evil to get me to write a bad review. In my two years of writing for a biweekly paper, I wrote only ONE bad review. (I don't have the numbers for after that, but I know that bad reviews from me were very rare in that time.)


I love a lot of things, and I want more people to love those things, so I have something to talk about with them. If a stranger comes up to me and professes a love for those things, I accept them immediately without question. It doesn't matter if they're a different color or GOD FORBID a different sex. I love talking about this shit with EVERYONE.


I guess what I'm trying to say is, I don't get the hate getting thrown about in particular genres. I get the egotistical need to be better than others, but I don't understand why anyone would apply it to readers and writers and other people who experience pop culture. To those who bitch about women "pretending" to be into comics? Fuck you. To those who hate a black Spider-Man? Fuck you. To those who dismiss an entire genre because you think its practitioners are focused on bullshit? Fuck you.


Try to think things through. Try to think about what "the more, the merrier" means. Try to decide if it's better to have a conversation with no one (hint: that sucks) or someone (hint: that's cool).


Let love in, fuckers. Stop being obstinate. You hated on popular authors for stepping up and helping unpopular genres, and for what? Are you so bent on your too-cool-for-the-room persona that you're OK with sacrificing genuine readers for people who will merely reaffirm your so-called independence?


If you really love the genre of your choice, be it horror, bizarro, SF or whatever, you would want to share it with others. When you get down to it, I think our various interests intersect quite nicely. Those of us who genuinely love these things are willing to share. Those of us who aren't? Those of us who think you have to earn love of certain things? Those of us who think you have to exhibit appreciation of certain things from an early age?


I think you're missing the point.

C2E2 PANEL: FUTURISTIC FRIGHT: SCIENCE-FICTION NOVELISTS IMAGINE FAR-FUTURE WORLDS

That’s a mouthful of a title. Sadly, this panel didn’t quite turn out to be about that. It was still a great time, but they went waaaaay off topic.



The guests were SF writers John Scalzi and Alex Hughes, and they were mediated by a woman whose name I didn’t get, and no amount of internet searching is helping me find it. I think she was a representative of Penguin USA, but for the life of me, I can’t recall her name, and it’s not in my notes.


They were off to a good start when Scalzi admitted his distaste, at least when it comes to his own work, for dystopian futures. He much prefers to take a philosophical approach to SF. He spoke for a while on the Cartesian separation of body and mind, and about the nature of being able to download your personality to a recording, mind-blowing things like that.


At one point, the mediator introduced the idea of space fantasy verses SF. It could have been an interesting discussion, but it veered off on another course. I think they were trying to promote the idea that stuff like STAR WARS was not SF but space fantasy, which is close but distinctly different. They didn’t discuss it, or far futures, for very long.


It wasn’t long before the panel was just another SF panel. That’s not to say it wasn’t fun (SF panels usually are pretty awesome), but it was no longer specialized.


One of the big topics discussed is the use of actual science in TV shows and movies. Few know this, but Scalzi was an advisor for STARGATE SG-U. In his time on that show, he noticed something: keep your scientific explanations simple and vague. Since SF uses a lot of theoretical science, there are no definite answers. If you find a middle-ground, you should be good. You’ll then get two responses: non-SF people simply won’t care, it’ll sound good enough to them; SF people, on the other hand, will puzzle over it for a while and come up with their own explanation, which will always be better than the one you devised yourself. Brilliant, really.


The STAR TREK reboot kind of got to him. He generally liked the movie, but when Spock was describing the thing with the star exploding, Scalzi just couldn’t take it. He hates hearing the usual clichés, like reversing the polarity. “Be happy with the polarity you were born with,” he said.


He was full of good one liners, my favorite being about having enough power to explode galaxies. “Why not destroy a few galaxies? For the lulz.”


He was in a really good mood, cheerful, full of jokes and great observations. Sorry, fellow LORD OF THE RINGS fans, but he turned me on one subject: I’ve always said the books are better. While I enjoyed the movies, the books will always be the true LotR. Scalzi disagrees. He says that Tolkien was really good at creating this world with vast detail, even going so far as to write THE SILMARILLION, but he just wants to sit back and relax in this world, structure be damned. Peter Jackson had the common sense to focus all of these details and histories and everything into a story. Being a purist, I hated to admit that he was right. I’ve always miss the real ending of LotR, when the hobbits return to the Shire only to find Saruman has taken over and they have to defeat him to save their home. No one has ever put that into their adaptation except for the Mind’s Eye radio play. Well, I guess there’s a reason, but it upsets me whenever people leave it out. I have to give this one up, folks. There is no reason for that part to be in LotR. Jackson was right to cut it out. In fact, Jackson’s LotR is the best form of that story.


Scalzi made an interesting point with that last bit. Two more examples he used are JAWS and THE GODFATHER. The movies are the best versions of those particular stories. Not that the books were bad, they just weren’t as good. It’s a hard concept for us purists to get over, but I have to admit that he’s right.


As charming as Scalzi was, Hughes was nervous. She conducted herself really well, but the unfortunate thing is, I’m pretty sure no one in the room knew who she was. (I certainly didn’t. I bought her book, but I haven’t gotten to it yet.) As a result of this, no one asked her any questions. It got to the point where the mediator and Scalzi both asked the audience to offer up some questions for Hughes. I hate to say this, because I really liked Hughes, but the only question she got from the crowd was akin to a pity question, kind of like an adult condescending to a kid. It wasn’t meant to be that way, but that’s how it came off.


All in all, it was a successful outing. We all had a good time, a few laughs, and a few insights into the world of SF.