My friend George may cringe at this, but lately, I’ve been watching a lot of Lady Gaga videos, and something occurred to me–I don’t care much for Gaga’s music. I mean it’s okay, catchy even, but I wouldn’t sit and listen to it without watching the videos.

Gaga is a rock star because she acts like one, but not because she rocks out, just as, conversely, Weezer rocks out, but they act like dweebs. I mean, seriously, her videos are just badass, where Weezer’s videos are a little WTF.

As exhibit one, I offer Alejandro. This video has everything, rifle barel bras, neo-fascism, sweaty underwear-rubbing acrobats, simulated gangbangs, and it is backed by weak synth-pop. When I watch it, I don’t know if I want to touch myself or invest in a bomb shelter.

One the other hand, take Hash Pipe, one of the most rocking tunes ever with a video feature lots of sumo wrestling.  Now sumo may be the greatest of the non-western sports, demanding superior athleticism and a monk-like devotion to training, but it sucks for backing a bad-ass song, it looks like a bunch of fat guys in their underpants, and let’s face it, if I want to see that, I’ve got a mirror.

Once upon a time, pork belly was considered a meat for commoners. The phrase “eating high on the hog” actually comes from the idea that only the pork shoulder could produce superior meat. This belief stemmed from the British aristocracy’s well-documented fear of porcine genitalia, also the root of their hatred for Scotsmen.

This all changed in 1602 with the philosopher and statesman, Sir Francis Bacon, who sliced pork stomach into thin strips, pan fried it, and named it for himself. For this act, he was knighted in 1603 and eventually offered the office of Solicitor-General.

* I coined that phrase, but I’ll probably never get credit for it. You’re welcome, Internet.

Tonight, someone in my group had a copy of “Spunk and Bite” by Arther Plotnick, I mentioned I really liked it, and he asked if I knew any other good writing books. I immediately answered, “No, they all suck.” But after getting home and taking a moment to ponder, I did think of a few which were pretty good.

First of all, there is “Spunk and Bite.” If you’re going to break any of “The Rules” out of a need for a unique style or just plain old spite, the book will show you how to do it right.

The second I would put on my list would be “Self Editing for Fiction Writers” by Renni Browne and Dave King. This book is the best down and dirty mechanics how-to I own.

Third, I would choose the Dwight Swain classic, “Techniques of the Selling Writer.” While this book is thicker than most, if you can get over the page count and the small print, you’re guaranteed to learn a thing or two. In fact, I should read it again.

If you want some lighter reading, but still a book filled with good information, I recommend “Grammar Girl’s Quick and Dirty Tips for Better Writing.” Sure, you can get it all on her blog, but a blog can’t sit on your shelf.

Okay, now here’s what puzzles me. With all the total crap writing books still in print, the next two, while being amongst my favorite, are both out of print.

“The Holt Handbook” by Kirszner and Mandell is the finest, easiest to understand style manual I’ve ever owned. Fortunately, it can still be gotten from Amazon’s used section. Be careful not to confuse this with the current Holt textbooks of the same name.

Another one you’ll have to find used is “The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Publishing Science Fiction” by Cory Doctorow and Karl Schroeder. Yes, THE Cory Doctorow and THE Karl Schroeder wrote a “Idiot’s” book. Oddly, in the US, Amazon lists this book as available for Kindle, but not in the US. There is not a Kindle edition listed for the UK or Canada.

So, in summing up, Most of these gook books on writing aren’t on the writing process at all–except for the Swain and the Idiot’s Guide. The rest are about usage, grammar, and mechanics.

please don’t compare me to other rappers
compare me to trappers i’m more Frank Lucas than Ludacris
and Luda’s my dude i ain’t trying to diss
like Frank Lucas is cool but i ain’t trying to snitch
–Jay Z, No Hook

When I mention John Cage, most people say, “Who?” They say the same thing when I mention Copland, but then I say, “He’s the Steak: it’s what’s for dinner guy,” and they say, “Oh, yeah. I like him.” Aaron Copland wrote pieces like Fanfare For the Common Man and Rodeo, which sound really cool, and even manage to stir the heart a little. John Cage wrote for prepared piano and could make music from a fucking cactus.

Even at my current, meager skill level as an artist, I am constantly confronted with the reality of saleability vs. integrity. Recently, at Wiscon, I got the opportunity to hear the brilliant Ellen Klages speak about writing. Ellen said something to the effect of, “I just wrote what I had to write. I let the publisher worry about the audience.” This remark was met with a enthusiastic applause from the largish audience.

Still, when a publisher says, “if you can re-cast this as young adult and follow these rules, I would buy this,” you began to doubt your convictions a little. When you have people telling you, “You drop the F-bomb too much,” you start to think, “Fuck, maybe I fucking do.” On the other hand, I sometimes think I am censoring myself too much by stopping there. I suppose some people would say that makes me immature, but in the words of Eminem, “Will Smith doesn’t have to cuss in his rap to sell records. Well I do. So fuck him.” Em and I are the same age, and he’s probably like a millionaire, so there.

But back to the subject of artistic integrity. When it comes down to it, I’ve got to be me. I think cops, vampires, gangsters, and plumbing fixture salesman might not always talk like Miss Manners. I have to talk in my voice, and if that means I have to work harder and wait longer to find the right audience, I guess I’ll just have to do that. Remember what Frankie said:

For what is a man what has he got
If not himself then he has not
To say the things he truly feels
And not the words of one who kneels
The record shows I took the blows
And did it my way

So, the other day, I finally got around to writing something, a flash piece called Carsed. I submitted it, and today it was on the Six Sentences site. The editor Rob McEvily had some nice things to say about it too.

Whether or not you intend to submit a piece, doing a six sentence story is a good exercise. It really makes you think about every word, and forces you to use some more complex sentence structures.

The more you tighten your grip, Tarkin, the more star systems will slip through your fingers.
–Princess Leia

The other day, I was looking at the picture of a sperm whale on a website and one of the comments below the picture read something to the effect of, “I’m sitting in Panera Bread and their web filter won’t let me see a ‘sperm’ whale.”

This seems like a microcosm of the idiocy of keyword censorship, especially of the banning of “dirty” words. While I can understand Panera’s position in not wanting a trench-coat-wearing maniac to turn around his laptop and show the tween at the next table a picture of a Japanese schoolgirl covered in pearlescent goo; it seems to me just as likely that the trench-coat-wearing maniac could cue up a DVD on that same laptop.

Meanwhile, because of their censored pages, a young girl in a Panera in Akron will never develop the dream to become a marine biologist or a fertility doctor.