New Scientist: Storytelling 2.0: The digital death of the author http://bit.ly/ch9OQZ
Famous Friend
Some people think it must be cool to have a famous friend. You’re
imagining hanging with someone like, say, Keanu, and Keanu
telling you things he doesn’t tell anyone else, and you ragging on him
for sucking at PlayStation. That would be cool. But what it’s
actually like is one of your friends—your real friends, say your best
friend—and he’s exactly the same only everyone thinks he’s wonderful.
Do you see how annoying that is? Because, sure, he’s
a good guy, but he’s not perfect. He’s not God. But now everyone
fawns over him and tells you how lucky you are to know him. That’s
why they pay attention to you: because you might help them get closer
to him. And
whenever you spend time with him, just the two of you, you both know he could
be somewhere else, listening to people flatter him or take him cool
places for free or sleep with him, because he’s famous.
Being friends with a famous person is the worst. And that’s why when
the magazines come sniffing around, asking just off the record,
just for background, is he really happy, and does he drink or ever do
drugs, and did he really hit that girl, you tell them everything.
Willow Smith is mocking bald men.
I wrote a piece for the Guardian (UK) today: "The perfect big society is just a few points away." http://bit.ly/afTVw6
Ayn Rand and a Hint
The
New Yorker
published
one of my short stories
in full without even asking. That’s
a gross copyright violation. I’m thinking of suing. Admittedly, the story is
only 25 words long. But still. They broke the ten percent rule. Two and a half words would
have been okay. “She walks i.” I’d have no problem with that.
So now The New Yorker has stolen my livelihood, there’s no reason for you to buy the book it’s published in, Hint Fiction. Unless you would like to read 150 or so stories by the other contributors. I guess that’s a good reason. The deal is they are all hints: 25 words or fewer, not self-contained stories but rather suggestions of larger tales. There are some more examples, by which I mean copyright violations, in The New Yorker article, and you can pick up the book, published today in the US & Canada, here or here.
If you are in Australia, I’m on TV tonight, talking about Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged. Actually, I’m doing that no matter where you are. You can’t affect it. I’m also discussing Freedom by Jonathan Franzen. I mention the Rand book first because it’s the one people will send me emails about.
Here’s the thing with Atlas Shrugged. It’s eleven hundred pages of brilliant, beautiful, go-getter industrialists talking to stupid, grasping, corrupt collectivists, set in a world where only half the laws of economics apply. The character names change but nothing else. Otherwise, it’s not bad. No, I lie. Even setting that aside, it’s terrible. I felt like Ayn Rand cornered me at a party, and three minutes in I found my first objection to what she was saying, but she kept talking without interruption for ten more days.
It’s not a novel so much as a manifesto, and, I think, impossible to enjoy unless you’re at least a little on board for the philosophy, and it’s hard to be on board for the philosophy if you understand economics or see a moral problem with starving poor people. I realize many believe fervently in the philosophy. They email me. And I don’t think it’s one hundred percent bogus. But it demands that you choose between no government or total government, and I think all such extremes have similarly extreme problems.
Freedom is good, though.
Darren Aronofsky to Direct Machine Man
You know how I feel about film deals. At first, sure, everyone’s excited.
It’s going to be the greatest movie ever made. You’ll be walking down
the red carpet in no time, Max. You’ll be doing blow off the naked backs
of strung-out starlets. But a few years later, and you know what? No
starlets. Not one.
Not that it’s all about the starlets. I’m happily married. I’m just saying, it would be nice to be offered starlets. The point is, I have discovered that there’s a lot that can derail a project between sign-on and starlets. In fact, starlets seem to be the exception. Most of the time, the movie never happens.
So when the Machine Man deal happened, I tried to steel myself. “Meh,” I told people. “Not as glamorous as it sounds. Probably never go anywhere.” A few months ago, I heard Darren Aronofsky was interested in directing. “Yeah, there’s always a big name who’s interested,” I said. “Everyone’s always interested.” Then he signed on. And today it’s public, being reported in Hollywood Reporter and Variety.
Now, Aronofsky is possibly the greatest director in the world. By which I mean, if you wrote a book or a screenplay, and you wanted someone to make it into a film, you would choose him. Because many people can do smart and unsettling and entertaining, but not usually all at once.
His newest film is “Black Swan,” which premieres in the US on December 3. It’s written by Mark Heyman, who is also on board for Machine Man. So I’m basically hoping Black Swan is the best movie of all time.
It is getting harder to stay cool about this.
By the way, Aronofsky was involved with the Robocop remake before the studio imploded. So do you think he walked away with a head full of unrealized ideas about bioaugmentation or what?
UNTIL NOW. http://bit.ly/d04DSC
For months I have borne the terrible weight of knowing Darren Aronofsky was attached to direct my movie without being able to brag about it.
So what exactly is the difference between a saint and a witch?
Four hours sleep ahead of First Tuesday Book Club taping. Any more and I'd be COHERENT.
My web game is in xkcd's Map of Online Communities!! I'm so proud. Geek-proud. http://xkcd.com/802/
Reading "Atlas Shrugged" for ABC book show. I don't want to spoil it. But my one-word description is "virulent."
Reading Ayn Rand at Young Writers' Festival. If I don't make it out, that's why.
I'm all for the evolution of language, but I will fight to the death for "disinterested."
I'm mentoring a student at NYWF. I will teach him about the publishing industry. He will teach me to live and love again.
Heading to Newcastle Young Writers Festival. Excited about opportunity for unbroken night's sleep. Possible sign I'm no longer young writer.
I'm not obsessive-compulsive, but I know if I don't turn off every appliance at the wall it will burn down the house and kill everyone.
Discovered 5yo taping "BABE 4 SUL" sign to newborn.
Snuggled with 6-day old. Wrote good words. Ran behind wobbling new bike of five-year old. Perfect day.
Chandelier, Illuminated
My baby SUCKS. Really well. That’s important. It took her a few days to get the hang of it. But now: awesome at sucking. I’m so proud of her.
It started like this: at 2am Tuesday Jen woke me to say her waters had broken. I was confused, because we were scheduled for a Caesarean delivery at 9am, had Jen forgotten? She wasn’t supposed to labor. This must be some kind of miscommunication. But no. The baby was coming. She’d heard she was to be born today and decided to take charge.
Off to the hospital we went. Fifty-two minutes before the time we had booked four months ago, she arrived: Matilda Margrett Barry, weighing 8lb 11oz, dazzling onlookers with her rich thatch of red hair.
The smell. The smell! I had forgotten how good this was. She smells like distilled contentment.
Matilda is strong and likes to have her hands near her face. Because of this, sometimes she facepalms. I have to get a photo of that and release it on the internet. She had a restless first few days, but now the sucking is under control, has been happy and very snuggly. She snuffles and snorts. Her big sister Finlay, who turned five yesterday by the way, can you believe that? Her big sister is super-super excited. Look at that smile. There’s ownership.
Today we arrived home. It’s been a great day. I wish you all this kind of happiness.
P.S. I once wrote a blog about how before I named my next child, I would make sure the domain name was available. Well, I completely forgot about this until Day 3 in the hospital, long after tweeting her arrival. The five panicked minutes between realizing this and securing matildabarry.com were the most nerve-wracking part of the entire experience.
Fun fact: due to fluid retention and maternal hormones, babies are born with swollen, comedy-size genitals.
Born today, a ravishing red-head, Matilda Margrett Barry.
Hospital. It's happening!
Baby #2 due in two days.
Voting. I like numbering the Senate paper all the way down to 60. You can be all, Take that, Conroy!
The phrase "to be honest" almost always means "I am lying."
Book review of "Company" ends with: "and then I realized I had to quit my job." Nice. http://bit.ly/a55po3
Wrote 4,000 words today. Not that it's about the number. Quality, not quantity. But FOUR THOUSAND WORDS.
Saw "Inception." OR DID I?
Burning CD for tonight's Mix Tape with Rob Jan. I'll just say this: there will be Vanilla Ice. http://fb.me/FcIOzETH
Writing a sex scene from a female character's point of view. Now I wish I'd been paying attention to my partner.
Max! Does! Stuff!
Here is a short story!
Not by me. Oh. Sorry. You thought… you’re
right, that was confusing. No, this is by Sean Silleck.
He’s nobody. I say that with the deepest respect. I mean he’s only
had one thing published and this is it. But check it out: it’s like
something I would write, if I was having a really good day.
I mean, eerily so. It’s like the guy is hanging around my house after
dark, going through my trash. I’m not saying he is. I’m not saying
anything until the police have finished their investigation. But really.
Eerie.
I swapped a few emails with Sean and it turns out he’s never heard of me in his life. That was kind of disappointing. I was all excited that I had inspired a bright young talent. But no. Apparently I’m just working with ideas so obvious that anyone can have them.
Speaking of shorts, I’m judging a short story contest! You can win $1,500 just by writing the kind of thing you already know I like. It’s practically rigged in your favor. Although you do have to be Australian. I suppose that’s the catch.
If you’re not Australian, I still have something for you. Wait. No, this is local, too. Wow. This blog is just getting more and more pointless for you. But anyway, I’m rocking out the Wheeler Centre in Melbourne next week with the Writer’s Mix Tape. The idea is I bring along a CD of significant/pumping tunes and play them and talk about why what they mean and finish with an awesome breakdance. It’s something like that. I’m there with Rob Jan of RRR radio. You should be, too. Unless you live thousands of miles away. In which case I’m very sorry for wasting your time. As you were.
Although slightly odd that the only funny character in that show is the robot.
I like "Sarah Connor Chronicles." There should be more stories of people falling in love with robots, and the robots killing them.
My kid calls M&Ms "Enemies."
Jen said, "You're so funny all the time." She put the emphasis on ALL THE TIME.
Walkabout
I shaved my head totally bald and the skin is so baby-smooth I can’t
stop touching it. That’s not relevant to anything. I don’t know why I
brought it up. But seriously. Baby-smooth.
So I didn’t blog or go on Facebook or Twitter for six weeks and you know what? It was kind of good. It was like walking into the desert and rediscovering Nature. It was like being born again. It was like looking at a photo of who I used to be.
No, not really. It was pretty much like this, only I had more free time and hadn’t heard of Zach Anner.
I have been doing lots of writing. The last big Machine Man novel rewrite is almost finished, and I started something new. I was planning another serial, but this kind of grabbed me and it’s not at all serial-like. So now I’m not sure about serials. I’ll see where I am in three months.
Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I’m here and writing and I know who Zach Anner is. Also: baby-smooth.
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