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Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
The daily news
Check out this article written by Brian Lilley from the Parliamentary Bureau in Ottawa. Wow!
OTTAWA — Iran is warning its citizens not to come to Canada out of fear of widespread Islamophobia sweeping the country.
A story posted on the website of the Islamic Republic of Iran Broadcasting news agency states the foreign ministry in Iran issued the warning earlier this week. The agency claims crime rates in Canada have soared recently and Iranian nationals may fall victim to this new crime spree.
The government of Iran is warning its citizens to take extra precautions if they visit Canada.
The Iranian government also claims Muslims in Canada are being denied “social and political rights” and police are not following up on complaints filed by Iranians in this country.
In addition to warning citizens to stay away from Canada, the government of Iran also recently warned its people to stay away from France, also citing Islamophobia there.
OTTAWA — Iran is warning its citizens not to come to Canada out of fear of widespread Islamophobia sweeping the country.
A story posted on the website of the Islamic Republic of Iran Broadcasting news agency states the foreign ministry in Iran issued the warning earlier this week. The agency claims crime rates in Canada have soared recently and Iranian nationals may fall victim to this new crime spree.
The government of Iran is warning its citizens to take extra precautions if they visit Canada.
The Iranian government also claims Muslims in Canada are being denied “social and political rights” and police are not following up on complaints filed by Iranians in this country.
In addition to warning citizens to stay away from Canada, the government of Iran also recently warned its people to stay away from France, also citing Islamophobia there.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Do the Kings of Leon have Amy Winehouse to thank for their success?
Formed in 1999 in Tennessee, this family band spent the majority of the last decade touring relentlessly. They broke out in the United Kingdom initially, with their first three albums doing well there. Success in the United States didn't happen until their "Only By the Night" album was released and sold millions.
Caleb Followill, the group's lead singer, has a very unique voice. He has a soulful bluesy delivery, and his inflections are wonderfully emotional. The timing of the band's success in my opinion has to do with the fact that his type of voice was starting to get very much in demand. Soul music had become very popular in the UK, and a few years ago artists like Amy Winehouse opened the door. Popular music tends to repeat itself even though it is packaged in different ways, and the season for soul music has returned.
Followill's powerful voice can pack a punch. Regardless of what genre of music that the band creates, the vocals in this case bring that element of soul music to the table. Naturally writing strong songs and tireless touring sets the stage for the big break, but a tipping point needs to come from somewhere. In this case, it may have come from rehab.
j
Caleb Followill, the group's lead singer, has a very unique voice. He has a soulful bluesy delivery, and his inflections are wonderfully emotional. The timing of the band's success in my opinion has to do with the fact that his type of voice was starting to get very much in demand. Soul music had become very popular in the UK, and a few years ago artists like Amy Winehouse opened the door. Popular music tends to repeat itself even though it is packaged in different ways, and the season for soul music has returned.
Followill's powerful voice can pack a punch. Regardless of what genre of music that the band creates, the vocals in this case bring that element of soul music to the table. Naturally writing strong songs and tireless touring sets the stage for the big break, but a tipping point needs to come from somewhere. In this case, it may have come from rehab.
j
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Jonny from Thunder Bay, the whole story.
I only posted a partial part of my story "Jonny from Thunder Bay," and here's the whole thang. Check it!
As Jonny hopped out of the Mack truck, he could see that the haze in the distance dissolved the road into the sky. The hot autumn sun melted away his desire to start walking, so he flopped down in the tall wild grass and pulled out his map.
Pointing to the south bearing highway he mumbled to himself, “Hmmm, that’s the 11, I’m on the 17, it looks like I might be about twenty miles or so from Thunder Bay. Damnit! Too bad that guy wasn’t heading my way for a bit longer.”
Always eager to feel sorry for himself, Jonny shakily drew a slender cigarette from his breast pocket, and lit it with his Bob Marley lighter. He started out on the perimeter highway of Winnipeg at four in the morning. Over the course of the last 12 hours of traveling and waiting, and the three different rides he had managed to score, he had not had a chance to sleep yet. And the previous overnight from Regina was no picnic. "I've never met such a scary trucker in my life," he mused aloud,"I mean that guy was right fucked up."
Jonny was a tall, slender fellow with long blonde dreads. He had the gait of someone who looked like he soiled his trousers, which painted a large target on his back at school when he was growing up. Like many children with certain physical differences, he was bullied to the point where it messed with his self esteem. As he got older he realized that he could fight back, but this tended to get him into trouble so he just kind of avoided people. Being a bit of a loner soon became his identity.
As his goal was to reach Thunder Bay by sundown, he knew that he would have a tough time making it by then, especially if he was walking in this heat. He decided to wait it out and hitchhike and see if his luck would continue to ride, so he continued to relax for a bit. As he lay down in the grass, he thought he'd just rest his eyes for a bit.
Jonny awoke to a loud screeching noise. He looked for the source and saw a large 18 wheel Feedrite truck start to topple over onto its side as it plowed into the ditch on the other side of the highway. As if still in a dream, he could see it all happen in slow motion. He started to turn his head and look around to see if anyone else was catching wind of this strange sight, but no one was around. "What the hell?" he said in shock.
The large truck was fully flipped onto its side and murky oil was gushing out from the inside of the running engine onto the torn up grass below. The 18 wheels were all still spinning violently. There was no sign of the driver, at least from what Jonny could tell from his vantage point. He second guessed whether or not he should make a move toward the possibly dangerous vehicle, so he surveyed the scene closely to look for any signs of sparks or fire. As smoke billowed from the underbelly of the engine, he rounded the front of the truck and saw the driver of the vehicle in a daze and pawing at his seatbelt.
Second guessing himself, Jonny decided it was too dangerous to even try. "Luckily the driver didn't see me," he mumbled to himself as he picked up his belongings off the ground and started to head eastward down the highway to Thunder Bay. Minutes later he heard a loud bang, stopped for a moment as his mind wrestled with turmoil, and then slowly started walking again.
As the next several hours rolled by, Jonny was so transfixed on what he had just witnessed that he didn't even try to hitch a ride. He kept replaying the image of the driver desperately trying to free himself over and over. He peered at the scar marks on his wrist and noticed that they were bleeding again from all the scratching. Suddenly realizing that he was also clenching his teeth, he stopped to have a cigarette. After a few drags, the setting sun reminded him to start hustling to get a ride. After all, he didn't want to be caught out in the dark.
As the blue Hino pulled to the side of the road, Jonny climbed up into the cab. "Where ya headed?" the pudgy and splotch faced driver gurgled.
"Thunder Bay" Jonny replied sheepishly.
"You can hop in but I got one rule, if you bitch about my tunes then you can hoof it. The name's Doug." snorted Doug.
"Uh ok, ahh… I'm Jake," Jonny lied.
"Well pleased to meet you Jake." Doug grinned as he turned up the stereo.
'Shit, rarely do I ever tell someone my actual name,' Jonny remarked to himself as he leaned back into the cracked leather seat and simmered on the George Thorogood song that was blasting through the pristine speakers. 'I always liked Jake because it was to the point. Plus I've never known a Jake that I didn't like.' His internal conversation was interrupted as Thorogood belted, 'I drink alone, YEAH with nobody else!'
Jonny smiled to himself as he soaked in the lyrics, 'Fuck there's nothing like sitting on the docks and drinking some fucking Moosehead.'
The miles drifted by as the sun continued its downward spiral into the horizon. Doug's animated armchair dancing to the classic rock music was interesting to watch as Jonny kept to himself, but soon the amusement wore off and he started to nod. Through the nappy haziness he noticed the Welcome to Thunder Bay sign near the turnpike. "I'll stop at the Husky and let you off there." Doug stated as he turned the volume down.
The tractor trailers were lined up in a community of diagonal silence underneath the autumn dusk. The littered and cracked parking lot was teeming with weeds and cigarette butts. Without a word of thanks or goodbye, Jonny opened the door and hopped to the ground several feet below. 'Too bad convenient stores here weren't like the states,' he wished.
Jonny stopped in at the liquor mart on McNaughton St and headed straight for the McKellar Island. After about an hour of walking he reached the mangled docks. As he stepped over the creaky floorboards, he gazed at the burgeoning stars. Jonny slumped down and cracked open a barely chilled Moosehead beer.
"Well I missed sundown but the stars sure look fuckin-A," he said as he started to swig several large mouthfuls of golden nectar.
“Damnit!” Jonny spat the awful results into the dark water and yelled, “skunk-ass beer!”
As Jonny hopped out of the Mack truck, he could see that the haze in the distance dissolved the road into the sky. The hot autumn sun melted away his desire to start walking, so he flopped down in the tall wild grass and pulled out his map.
Pointing to the south bearing highway he mumbled to himself, “Hmmm, that’s the 11, I’m on the 17, it looks like I might be about twenty miles or so from Thunder Bay. Damnit! Too bad that guy wasn’t heading my way for a bit longer.”
Always eager to feel sorry for himself, Jonny shakily drew a slender cigarette from his breast pocket, and lit it with his Bob Marley lighter. He started out on the perimeter highway of Winnipeg at four in the morning. Over the course of the last 12 hours of traveling and waiting, and the three different rides he had managed to score, he had not had a chance to sleep yet. And the previous overnight from Regina was no picnic. "I've never met such a scary trucker in my life," he mused aloud,"I mean that guy was right fucked up."
Jonny was a tall, slender fellow with long blonde dreads. He had the gait of someone who looked like he soiled his trousers, which painted a large target on his back at school when he was growing up. Like many children with certain physical differences, he was bullied to the point where it messed with his self esteem. As he got older he realized that he could fight back, but this tended to get him into trouble so he just kind of avoided people. Being a bit of a loner soon became his identity.
As his goal was to reach Thunder Bay by sundown, he knew that he would have a tough time making it by then, especially if he was walking in this heat. He decided to wait it out and hitchhike and see if his luck would continue to ride, so he continued to relax for a bit. As he lay down in the grass, he thought he'd just rest his eyes for a bit.
Jonny awoke to a loud screeching noise. He looked for the source and saw a large 18 wheel Feedrite truck start to topple over onto its side as it plowed into the ditch on the other side of the highway. As if still in a dream, he could see it all happen in slow motion. He started to turn his head and look around to see if anyone else was catching wind of this strange sight, but no one was around. "What the hell?" he said in shock.
The large truck was fully flipped onto its side and murky oil was gushing out from the inside of the running engine onto the torn up grass below. The 18 wheels were all still spinning violently. There was no sign of the driver, at least from what Jonny could tell from his vantage point. He second guessed whether or not he should make a move toward the possibly dangerous vehicle, so he surveyed the scene closely to look for any signs of sparks or fire. As smoke billowed from the underbelly of the engine, he rounded the front of the truck and saw the driver of the vehicle in a daze and pawing at his seatbelt.
Second guessing himself, Jonny decided it was too dangerous to even try. "Luckily the driver didn't see me," he mumbled to himself as he picked up his belongings off the ground and started to head eastward down the highway to Thunder Bay. Minutes later he heard a loud bang, stopped for a moment as his mind wrestled with turmoil, and then slowly started walking again.
As the next several hours rolled by, Jonny was so transfixed on what he had just witnessed that he didn't even try to hitch a ride. He kept replaying the image of the driver desperately trying to free himself over and over. He peered at the scar marks on his wrist and noticed that they were bleeding again from all the scratching. Suddenly realizing that he was also clenching his teeth, he stopped to have a cigarette. After a few drags, the setting sun reminded him to start hustling to get a ride. After all, he didn't want to be caught out in the dark.
As the blue Hino pulled to the side of the road, Jonny climbed up into the cab. "Where ya headed?" the pudgy and splotch faced driver gurgled.
"Thunder Bay" Jonny replied sheepishly.
"You can hop in but I got one rule, if you bitch about my tunes then you can hoof it. The name's Doug." snorted Doug.
"Uh ok, ahh… I'm Jake," Jonny lied.
"Well pleased to meet you Jake." Doug grinned as he turned up the stereo.
'Shit, rarely do I ever tell someone my actual name,' Jonny remarked to himself as he leaned back into the cracked leather seat and simmered on the George Thorogood song that was blasting through the pristine speakers. 'I always liked Jake because it was to the point. Plus I've never known a Jake that I didn't like.' His internal conversation was interrupted as Thorogood belted, 'I drink alone, YEAH with nobody else!'
Jonny smiled to himself as he soaked in the lyrics, 'Fuck there's nothing like sitting on the docks and drinking some fucking Moosehead.'
The miles drifted by as the sun continued its downward spiral into the horizon. Doug's animated armchair dancing to the classic rock music was interesting to watch as Jonny kept to himself, but soon the amusement wore off and he started to nod. Through the nappy haziness he noticed the Welcome to Thunder Bay sign near the turnpike. "I'll stop at the Husky and let you off there." Doug stated as he turned the volume down.
The tractor trailers were lined up in a community of diagonal silence underneath the autumn dusk. The littered and cracked parking lot was teeming with weeds and cigarette butts. Without a word of thanks or goodbye, Jonny opened the door and hopped to the ground several feet below. 'Too bad convenient stores here weren't like the states,' he wished.
Jonny stopped in at the liquor mart on McNaughton St and headed straight for the McKellar Island. After about an hour of walking he reached the mangled docks. As he stepped over the creaky floorboards, he gazed at the burgeoning stars. Jonny slumped down and cracked open a barely chilled Moosehead beer.
"Well I missed sundown but the stars sure look fuckin-A," he said as he started to swig several large mouthfuls of golden nectar.
“Damnit!” Jonny spat the awful results into the dark water and yelled, “skunk-ass beer!”
Kings of Leon
It is interesting to see how the KOL had a great opening week in Canada, hitting #1, but not quite getting there in the US. Sugarland took the top spot. I guess Canadians have better taste than Americans. Are you surprised? I'm not! Here's hoping that the KOL album has legs!!
j
j
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Blog assignment - Short Story Excerpt - Jonny from Thunder Bay
As his goal was to reach Thunder Bay by sundown, Jonny knew that he would have a tough time making it by then, especially if he was walking in this heat. He decided to wait it out and hitchhike and see if his luck would continue to ride, so he continued to relax. As he lay down in the grass, he thought he'd just rest his eyes for a bit.
Jonny awoke to a loud screeching noise. He looked for the source and saw a large 18 wheel Feedrite truck start to topple over onto its side as it plowed into the ditch on the other side of the highway. As if still in a dream, he could see it all happen in slow motion. He started to turn his head and look around to see if anyone else was catching wind of this strange sight, but no one was around. "What the hell?" he said in shock.
The large truck was fully flipped onto its side and murky oil was gushing out from the inside of the running engine onto the torn up grass below. The 18 wheels were all still spinning violently. There was no sign of the driver, at least from what Jonny could tell from his vantage point. He pondered whether or not he should make a move toward the possibly dangerous vehicle, so he surveyed the scene closely to look for any signs of sparks or fire. As smoke billowed from the underbelly of the engine, he rounded the front of the truck and saw the driver of the vehicle in a daze and pawing at his seatbelt.
Second guessing himself, Jonny decided it was too dangerous to even try. "Luckily the driver didn't see me," he mumbled to himself as he picked up his belongings off the ground and started to head eastward down the highway to Thunder Bay. Minutes later he heard a loud bang, stopped for a moment as his mind wrestled with turmoil, and then slowly started walking again.
Jonny awoke to a loud screeching noise. He looked for the source and saw a large 18 wheel Feedrite truck start to topple over onto its side as it plowed into the ditch on the other side of the highway. As if still in a dream, he could see it all happen in slow motion. He started to turn his head and look around to see if anyone else was catching wind of this strange sight, but no one was around. "What the hell?" he said in shock.
The large truck was fully flipped onto its side and murky oil was gushing out from the inside of the running engine onto the torn up grass below. The 18 wheels were all still spinning violently. There was no sign of the driver, at least from what Jonny could tell from his vantage point. He pondered whether or not he should make a move toward the possibly dangerous vehicle, so he surveyed the scene closely to look for any signs of sparks or fire. As smoke billowed from the underbelly of the engine, he rounded the front of the truck and saw the driver of the vehicle in a daze and pawing at his seatbelt.
Second guessing himself, Jonny decided it was too dangerous to even try. "Luckily the driver didn't see me," he mumbled to himself as he picked up his belongings off the ground and started to head eastward down the highway to Thunder Bay. Minutes later he heard a loud bang, stopped for a moment as his mind wrestled with turmoil, and then slowly started walking again.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Interview with author Paul Vieira
For one of my creative writing assignments I interviewed author Paul Vieira. He wrote the book, “Jesus has left the building”. This book is basically about finding spiritual truth outside the walls of a church. My questions were about his writing process, as well as the challenges that he faced and what he might do differently next time. You will find his answers posted below in mostly point form.
Writing process:
- inspiration for the book came out of presentations that I did at conferences (from public speaking career)
- went over my presentation notes and thoughts about the subject and created on outline for the book. laid out the themes of each chapter. I made point form notes on what each chapter would contain. I would add, subtract or edit these notes along the way.
- began writing each chapter in detail. I would write first, edit after. I didn't want to get bogged down with editing...didn't want to lose the momentum of my thoughts.
- I read over every chapter several times to edit, clarify and tweak what I wrote.
Blocks:
It was difficult to write on an ongoing basis. The process was 4 years, but concentrated writing happened in intense short periods of time. On 3 separate occasions I spent one week writing full-time at a friend's home in the U.S. (I would write 8-10 hours a day and knock off about 50-60 pages each time)
Editing:
I put the book through a lot of editing myself. I wanted to send publishers a perfect manuscript. I had 4 people edit the book from different angles - flow of thought, typos, consistency, etc. The publisher's editor didn't have to do very much. The publisher suggested that we eliminate 5000 words. I had 80,000 and they wanted 75,000. I had no trouble cutting out an entire chapter and other parts of the book. i wanted the book to readable and reader-friendly.
The temptation was to rush the process, but I had to remind myself to slow down. Editing lasted for about a year.
I went with a smaller publisher and this gave me a lot of control over the process. i chose the title of the book, the book image, wrote the back description. I also put a lot of time into marketing the book online. I learned a lot. We've sold about 3000 copies to date.
I put out podcast readings of the book...the first 10 chapters (all free)
What would I do differently? I would try to shop the manuscript out a little more - the publisher that I went with was really the first one to show interest. A bigger publisher might have made the book go further.
Writing process:
- inspiration for the book came out of presentations that I did at conferences (from public speaking career)
- went over my presentation notes and thoughts about the subject and created on outline for the book. laid out the themes of each chapter. I made point form notes on what each chapter would contain. I would add, subtract or edit these notes along the way.
- began writing each chapter in detail. I would write first, edit after. I didn't want to get bogged down with editing...didn't want to lose the momentum of my thoughts.
- I read over every chapter several times to edit, clarify and tweak what I wrote.
Blocks:
It was difficult to write on an ongoing basis. The process was 4 years, but concentrated writing happened in intense short periods of time. On 3 separate occasions I spent one week writing full-time at a friend's home in the U.S. (I would write 8-10 hours a day and knock off about 50-60 pages each time)
Editing:
I put the book through a lot of editing myself. I wanted to send publishers a perfect manuscript. I had 4 people edit the book from different angles - flow of thought, typos, consistency, etc. The publisher's editor didn't have to do very much. The publisher suggested that we eliminate 5000 words. I had 80,000 and they wanted 75,000. I had no trouble cutting out an entire chapter and other parts of the book. i wanted the book to readable and reader-friendly.
The temptation was to rush the process, but I had to remind myself to slow down. Editing lasted for about a year.
I went with a smaller publisher and this gave me a lot of control over the process. i chose the title of the book, the book image, wrote the back description. I also put a lot of time into marketing the book online. I learned a lot. We've sold about 3000 copies to date.
I put out podcast readings of the book...the first 10 chapters (all free)
What would I do differently? I would try to shop the manuscript out a little more - the publisher that I went with was really the first one to show interest. A bigger publisher might have made the book go further.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Short Story Review - The Dungeon Master
As I am a student, from time to time I am required to post assignments up on my blog. This particular piece features a review of a short story by Sam Lipsyte called The Dungeon Master. This story appeared in the November 1st, 2010 edition of the magazine.
One of the key things not to do that has been discussed in Creative Writing class, is the use of many characters in a short story. The Dungeon Master is no exception. Other than the main character, there are about ten other characters, and it can get confusing when a bunch of them are involved in a scene.
Dr. Varelli, the Dungeon Master's father, was quite interesting. He used strange language to communicate with his sons, in one example he would always call them puppies. I enjoyed the scene where the main character stumbles upon Dr. Varelli playing guitar and singing a sombre Italian ballad, very touching.
The pacing of the dialogue was quick in many cases, and this certainly provided a real conversational feeling. Due to the fact that the language the characters were using was very dungeon and dragon-like, I found it challenging to grasp where they were coming from. The fantasy world that they had been contriving did not really grab my attention as much as I thought it would when I started reading the story.
The Cherniski character, who always played a thief in their fantasy games, also played the thief in real life. I thought his character fit into the story nicely, and it was not surprising that he eventually got caught by the police for all the theft he had committed.
The Dungeon Master had a tendency to bully the other characters, and would regularly kill off the boys' fantasy characters. It was nice to see that the main character in the story finally stood up to the Dungeon Master, which caused an end to their friendship, however, their reunion in the end seemed very awkward to me.
I would have liked to read more of the story, provided that it would have addressed how the main character was to move on with his life.
If you are interested in reading the story, just click on the link below.
http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/features/2010/10/04/101004fi_fiction_lipsyte?currentPage=1
One of the key things not to do that has been discussed in Creative Writing class, is the use of many characters in a short story. The Dungeon Master is no exception. Other than the main character, there are about ten other characters, and it can get confusing when a bunch of them are involved in a scene.
Dr. Varelli, the Dungeon Master's father, was quite interesting. He used strange language to communicate with his sons, in one example he would always call them puppies. I enjoyed the scene where the main character stumbles upon Dr. Varelli playing guitar and singing a sombre Italian ballad, very touching.
The pacing of the dialogue was quick in many cases, and this certainly provided a real conversational feeling. Due to the fact that the language the characters were using was very dungeon and dragon-like, I found it challenging to grasp where they were coming from. The fantasy world that they had been contriving did not really grab my attention as much as I thought it would when I started reading the story.
The Cherniski character, who always played a thief in their fantasy games, also played the thief in real life. I thought his character fit into the story nicely, and it was not surprising that he eventually got caught by the police for all the theft he had committed.
The Dungeon Master had a tendency to bully the other characters, and would regularly kill off the boys' fantasy characters. It was nice to see that the main character in the story finally stood up to the Dungeon Master, which caused an end to their friendship, however, their reunion in the end seemed very awkward to me.
I would have liked to read more of the story, provided that it would have addressed how the main character was to move on with his life.
If you are interested in reading the story, just click on the link below.
http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/features/2010/10/04/101004fi_fiction_lipsyte?currentPage=1
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