Category Archives: Writing

Goodbye, Buffy, We Hardly Knew Ye

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So there she is, Buffy Summers, standing at the edge of the crater where Sunnydale, California used to be and where it is no more. Supposedly, the Hellmouth closed forever. Or something.

And there I was, watching the last episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The last episode. No more. That’s when the depression started. It was over.
Now, I’ve watched other shows and the finales of other shows, but I gotta’ tell ya’, I’ve never felt so sad at the ending of a show before. I’ve felt cheated, like with Battlestar Galactica, and I’ve felt satisfied, go, Firefly, but when I watched the last Buffy episode, I felt desolate.

No more Buffy. No more Willow. No more Anya.

Anya was my favorite. I wanted one more episode to watch how the Scooby gang handled her death. I’ll never forget Anya’s reaction to everyone grieving over Buffy’s mother’s death. How she couldn’t understand it, couldn’t understand everyone’s sorrow.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know I’m late to the party and Buffy’s last episode was almost ten years ago. Or something. Yeah. I’m late. And I’m stupid.

I tried to watch Buffy back in the 90’s, during its original run, but I couldn’t get into it. Season 1 was, um, iffy. Season 2 better, but not good enough. And if you try and come in midway, inscrutable. I had gay friends recommending it, and we all know all gay people have impeccable taste, but, well, I had Star Trek to watch.

Two huge lessons I’ve learned in life: listen to less Rush, more Prince. Watch more Buffy, less Star Trek. There.

So I kept getting slapped and beaten for not watching it. Seriously. Hit. “What–you haven’t watched Buff?” Smackola. So I knew I had to force myself to weather through the first couple of seasons. I did. And I am so glad.

Joss Whedon has genius, certainly, and we all either love him or hate him for it. I secretly want to eat his heart and brains, with onions, in hopes I can ingest some of that genius. The thing is, Joss Whedon can do conflict well, but his real brilliance is making us fall in love with his characters.

And I fell in love Buffy, Giles, Xander, the whole Scooby gang. And so, when the show ended, it was saying goodbye, a forever type of goodbye.

Sometimes I wonder if art and TV and novels are worth anything. If it’s all just a distraction from real life. Maybe to blind us from enlightenment.

But my life was richer for watching Buffy, gotta’ say.

Now, the spin-off, Angel? Um, I’ll post about that later.

Real Life Kills Blogger – Film at Eleven

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So, I was blogging all the time and things were good and I was rockin’ the party. I was getting literally dozens of hits. I know. I was big time. Next stop, Vegas, baby.

And I had the idea that blogging five days a week wasn’t a big deal. I could do this. I had help from the wonderful and dynamic Chris Devlin. Everything was coming up roses. And then summer hit. And I started traveling. And real life happened. And I was working on three books, one published, one in the final stages, and one a preemie little thing that I adore. And blogging dropped off into the void. Goodbye, Mr. Bond.

And now I’m having trouble getting back onto the blog habit and I’m even having trouble getting the gumption to schedule interviews and do a lot of things I was doing. I’ve gone back to writing. Like real writing. Like fiction.

I like to blog. It’s like exhibitionist journaling and I’m down with that. It’s kind of a nice break from normal journaling because heck, I’ve journaled the hell out of myself and how often can I write, “I didn’t eat well today and I’m watching too much T.V. and I probably need to get back on the wagon.” Yeah, it would be like reading Bridget Jones’ Diary, with her weight, cigarette consumption, and eating woes for twenty years.

But there are only so many minutes in the day and I only have so much energy. And I kind of like sleeping. Not enough to pursue serious sleeping but enough to miss it when I don’t have it.

So long story short, I’ll still blog, but not five days a week and not with the mania that I once did. I have books to sell, stories to create, and sleep to, er, sleep.

So, World, you’ll just have to enjoy me when you get me.

My COMPLETELY UNAUTHORIZED Interview with Maggie Stiefvater

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So, as you all know, one of my favorite questions to ask writers is my blue pill question. Remember in The Matrix where Morpheus offers Neo a red pill and a blue pill? The blue pill will return Neo’s life to normal and the red pill will give him the truth.

I ask authors, if you could take the blue pill to remove all desire to write, would you take it? The pill would last forever, and all desire, all thought of writing would be gone. You wouldn’t regret not writing because the pill would remove all of those messy nostalgic thoughts of satisfaction, fame, and fortune.

99% of the writers would not take the pill. Me? I’d take it in a minute. Wash it down with some Yukon Jack. I talked about that when I interviewed myself, back when I had a soul and believed in God. Oh, wait, no, I didn’t have a soul back then.

Out of all the writers I’ve talked to, Maggie Stiefvater of Shiver fame, had the absolute best answer. I talked with her at the Colorado Teen Lit Fest after her drop-dead fabulous keynote speech.

ME: Ms. Stiefvater, if you could take a pill to remove all desire to write, would you take it?

MAGGIE STIEFVATER: Such a pill would have no affect on me.

Coolest answer ever, right?

She went on to say she wouldn’t take the pill, but that even if she took it, it wouldn’t work on her. If she didn’t have the desire to write, she would find some other artistic endeavor, even if it was ancient Chinese bubblegum crochet (my words, not hers).

Maggie Stiefvater is a natural-born artist and had written like thirty novels before she graduated high school. She is a born writer, and like all successful writers, she is a warrior. It was such a pleasure hearing her talk and meeting her.

And in all the excitement, I gave her a copy of my book. I was a bit smitten.

You can find her books everywhere, but here’s a link to her Amazon page.

When I talk with Twilight fans, I always push Shiver. Well, I did before I had a book of my own. Now I push my book, The Never Prayer, but Shiver is a close second, if they prefer werewolves to angels.

In some ways, writers like Maggie Stiefvater give me hope. Writers who write and stick with it can make it to the top. In other ways, this deepens my despair. I have to write twenty more novels and even then, my chances are iffy. I just wish I had a guarantee. But this is life, not a novel.

Which is why fiction is so much fun. Because in fiction, we can write in our own guarantees.

Thanks so much to Maggie Stiefvater for talking to me!