Crow Fair, 2011

I attended part of the 2011 Crow Fair in Crow Agency, Montana. I'd like to go again sometime and take in more of it. It was an interesting juxtaposition of tradition and modern day life. Here's an example of what I mean:



Teepee versus RV



I was also amazed at the horse handling skills of not only the Crow adults, but their kids. Even the youngest seemed so at ease on horses. Here's a picture of a great way to advertise a horse for sale:



Horse 4 Sale

The stadium that held the horse races was old and worn, but kind of cool for exactly that reason. Anyway, being a naive white guy, when they listed horse races in their program, I assumed that it would be Native Americans riding bareback in traditional dress, or something like that. Again, that's an assumption bred by my own ignorance. Instead, the horse races looked like this:

Parimutuel betting, too!

The weather was hot and dry while we were there. Makes sense since it's held in August. I'd really like to go again and take in some of the things I missed. One thing to remember, though, if you decide to go, is that the Crow people don't put this on just for the entertainment of pasty-skinned folks like me. They put this on to celebrate their heritage and culture, old and new. Yes, us white folk are welcome, but it's their celebration.

(Melissa took the photos, by the way.)





In Honor of Muhammad Ali's Birthday

In honor of Muhammad Ali's birthday, I have a funny story about him. One of my older brothers worked at the Mayo Clinic in a lab where they tested urine. Muhammad Ali was at the clinic for tests, and my brother ended up testing his urine (this was probably 30 years ago or so) and he brought home a vial of his pee. It was in our freezer for a few years before I think my mom threw it out. But my bro used to like to say, "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, I tested the pee of Muhammad Ali."

Paul Bunyan's Murderous Rampage Through the Great North Woods

As a horror writer, I see things with a bit of a different eye; a heavily bloodshot, bulging eye that if removed from my head will most likely take on a life of its own and hover over the faces of those fast asleep. Or maybe not, but what I mean is that many times if I hear or see something that interests me, the horror writer in me takes over and creates different scenarios, testing them and tossing aside the images that aren't compelling while holding onto those that make me feel as if I just swallowed a handful of chocolate covered espresso beans.

That feeling usually doesn't occur with just one something. Instead, it's a combination of somethings. It can't just be an interesting setting - there's gotta be some metaphorical meat juxtaposed with it to get my gears cranking.

For example, there's an old quarry in Rochester, MN that has always intrigued me. It was once part of the Second Minnesota Hospital for the Insane (soon more kindly named the Rochester State Hospital) - and the land was farmed, worked and quarried by the inmates. There were cattle to tend to, limestone to quarry, soap to make, produce to harvest, sheep to shear. This was apparently before the phrase "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy" was taken seriously, since they believed that keeping the inmates working kept them from thinking too much about their problems.

Also on these grounds are man-made caves, carved out of the sandstone above the quarry in 1882 by inmates led by Thomas Coyne - a man who thought of himself at times as a prophet, and at other times as Jesus Christ.

Interesting setting with an interesting history with interesting characters.

The farm portion of this land - and the hill the quarry and caves rest on - was sold to the county in 1965 and was turned into Quarry Hill Park. The rest of the State Hospital closed in 1982 and was eventually remade into a prison.

While I grew up in Rochester, these caves were always open. You could hike up to them at any time and wander through them. Although the park officially closed at dusk, it didn't stop teenagers from sneaking up there with booze and lust on their minds, or perhaps the chance to experience a good scare.  Even during the day, there rarely seemed to be many people in the caves, and it often served as a semi-private place to make out in - although not all that comfortable if you didn't think ahead and bring a blanket.

There were also always rumors about satanic rituals being performed around the quarry. Rumors of small animals found sacrificed and hanging from trees, or pentagrams spay painted on the quarry's walls. At the time, it was exciting to think that such goings-on occurred in our little boring town (because isn't any town you live in boring when you're a teenager?) but if such things as pentagrams and dead animals actually were found, they were most likely the product of a couple drunk kids saying, 'Hey, let's fuck with people's minds, man!' Chortle, chortle, snort, snort. 'Yeah, I saw a dead raccoon back there. Got some string?'

The caves are no longer opened to the public, except on tours offered every now and then throughout the summer.

Bummer.

I've always wanted to write a book based on Quarry Hill. It's the kind of place that captivates me. Stokes the fires in my brain. Puts my 'nads on heightened alert.

It's fun to be a horror writer. And yeah - it's hard not to think of a giant like Paul Bunyan with his big axe running through the forest lopping off heads and painting the pines with fresh blood. That's just the way us horror writers are.

Perspective

Before we had kids, Melissa and I drove down to Rochester to visit my parents and attend a Christmas concert at the local community college. I was the one behind the wheel. It was early evening - the sun had already set, there was snow in the fields, but not on the roads - and at one point two eyes appeared in front of us reflecting our headlights back in a greenish-yellow glow. It was a doe, standing right there on Hwy 52. I slammed on the brakes, spat out the word 'Deer!' and braced for impact. The poor thing didn't have a chance.

Time slowed down drastically. I remember so many vivid details; the deer bending at an impossible angle, its head veering toward me, mucus flying from its eyes, nose and mouth onto the windshield. It rolled off the hood, and then there were headlights in our rear-view mirror and I braced myself again, thinking we might be rear-ended. I remember sitting there for a moment in the SUV on the highway, realizing I'd better pull over, and then Melissa and I talking about what we were supposed to do.

Where had the deer gone? Did we need to drag it off the road? Were we supposed to call somebody?

I got out of the truck, and couldn't find the doe at first, but then there it was, back a ways, having rolled off the highway's shoulder and down a shallow embankment.

It wasn't until I walked back around the front of the truck to leave, that I noticed the damage. We were lucky, I suppose, that the airbags hadn't deployed, because the front of the SUV was pushed in a good half-foot, the hood bent up in the middle, the radiator badly dented.

Later, I found this to be kind of strange - that I hadn't noticed the damage being done to the vehicle at the moment of impact. A lot of force had been in play to push in the frame that much, to cause that much damage, but all that I had focused on at the time was the deer in slo-motion, head lolling toward me, mucus exiting its eyes, nose and mouth, spraying onto the windshield.

Here is what I've taken from this; a good lesson for writing about perspective.

What parts of a scene should our writerly lens focus on? What parts should be slowed down and examined in detail? What parts should be glossed over, or perhaps revealed in hindsight? Perhaps revealed at a later critical time?

The damage to the truck was not as important as the way the deer died, or at least how its death affected me in the moment of impact. The damage to the truck was more of an afterthought - an annoyance, sure, but not the focus of that particular scene in my life. It was, instead, the slow motion death of a sentient creature and the vivid detail of the mucus springing from parts I did not expect it to spring from.

The truck remained functional. We continued on to my parents', to the community college's Christmas concert. Somehow, the music made me forget, momentarily, of that slo-mo impact, that moment of shock and disbelief and bewilderment and the too-easy acceptance.

How to Write Your First Novel From Start to Finish in 10 Easy Steps!

How do you not only write your first novel, but also a bestselling first novel - in only 10 easy steps? Simple:

1. Think of an idea. Spend a day or two realizing how great this idea is and how it will make you rich! Buy a notebook and a dozen cheap pens to capture all the great ideas that will soon flow from your brain. Or use a laptop. Either way.

2. Tell others that you have this great idea (but don’t give specifics – they might steal it!) and how you’re going to turn it into a novel. Mention that there will probably be a movie deal, too. It's okay at this point to start casting the movie in your head. And best of all, tell everyone you know that you’re now a writer!

3. Jot down some ideas about the book and maybe some character names. Watch some TV or goof around on the internet for a few hours to let your mind rest and your subconscious work. No use going overboard at the beginning.

4. Have a drink or three. Hey, your idea seems better and better! And you just figured out something chilling about one of the characters! Jot it down if you can find your notebook (or laptop) under all the crap on your coffee table.

5. Post on Facebook, Twitter, Google+ etc about how you’re writing a novel. You’re a real writer now! You realize you’ve got a whole year or so to write this thing. Don’t most writers put out a book a year? A whole year is plenty of time, so no hurry.

6. Now you’re ready. Time to get down to the hard work. Have another drink. Get that notebook in front of you. Wait, no – go to a coffee shop and sit at one of those tables. A coffee shop is a great place to write.

7. Write down sentences. One sentence, two sentences. It’s okay to use a bigger font to fill up the pages faster. They hire editors to fix that stuff after the book deal has been signed. Hey, look at that person over there. Can they tell I’m writing? I bet this whole writing deal will get me laid a lot more. C’mon, look this way, look this way! I’m a writer!

8. Don’t fill up too many pages just yet. Go to the bookstore and get the Writer’s Market. Or the Novel Market. And the Agent Market. You’re going to need an agent, right? Go home with these and look through them. Which agents and/or markets are right for your novel? Go through and circle them. You’ve got the time! You’ve only just started your novel, and there are still over 360 days left in the year. Relax, you’re doing great!

9. Call your parents or in-laws for some money to subsidize your rent for a while. Why continue with the day job when you’ve got a book to write! Tell them you only need six months worth of rent. (Because really, who are you kidding? You can crank this thing out faster than that! Your idea practically writes itself!) And even if it does take a year, your folks will already be heavily invested, so why cut you off when just as soon as you’re finished, you’ll be like a millionaire or something. And if you’re married with kids, don’t worry about it. They’ll understand your sudden need to follow your bliss!

10. Okay. So you’ve got at least a page or two written, or at least filled them with some ideas and character names. Here’s where the real magic happens – the sure-fire way to land your novel an agent leading to a six-figure book deal leading to a seven-figure movie deal. Listen carefully...You know that cousin/brother-in-law/nephew/friend/former co-worker you have who actually has written a book? Tell him/her that you have this awesome idea for a bestselling novel. Don’t tell him/her the idea yet! No, first tell them that you’ll give them the idea if they will write the book. And then you split the money; at least 60% to you for your sure-to-be-bestselling one-of-a-kind idea, and the remaining 40% to them for the easy part of just writing it out on paper (and make sure they understand the agent’s commission comes out of their end, too.)

There you go – 10 easy steps to not only start your first novel, but to become a bestselling author as well. Enjoy your journey!