Celebrity Prison

Art Deco Tile Avatar

When I’m writing, I often profile my characters. That begins with my ability to empathize; I feel this emotion is sorely needed for writers to be able to better characterize and connect with readers. Sometimes, like today, I profile a character type based on my experience with it. I used to shoot local events for a community newspaper based on a creative concept I designed; the reason why I stopped doing that was because I erred on the side of respect. So, sometimes I didn’t get the shot of celebrity what’s-his/her-face because I asked and the answer was “No, this is my personal time.” You mean you missed so-and-so? Yeah, yeah I did. I’ve worked with celebrities in other capacities as well and even though that is a “job” they’re also human beings. There were other politics associated with the tab, too, since the feature’s popularity grew and my more casual/candid style didn’t suffice anymore. It was fun. I’m glad I had the experience. And I’ve moved on.

Anyway, back to storytelling. I have an idea in my head for a dark story about a celebrity musician trapped (literally) by his fame. (Remember: I’m the writer who lurks in the dark. Hee.) This has been explored in depth before — the film The Island has an interesting, if horrific take on that. But, sometimes I need to write for the sake of writing, so I can get that concept out of my system and move onto something else. I often use the second person to explore empathy, to address the fictitious character as if they’re sitting right in front of me, to flesh out how I feel about him (or her).

With that in mind, here’s my character profile:

    Dear Rock Star:

    We’ve never met. I suppose we never will, even if we did. Oh, I know I’d be standing in front of you, Mr. Rock Star, shaking your hand, telling you how much I enjoy your music, but that’s not you. Not really. That’s the “you” perfected by publicists and marketers, make-up artists and advisors, and the image demanded by millions of fans. I may want to feel the grip of your hand because you touched me with your music — but that’s just the bioware housing whatever’s trapped inside.

    If you took your shirt off, would I see the bite marks? The pieces of skin ripped from your body, inch by inch, stealing your humanity?

    What happened? You used to be the boy with a dream. Now, you’ve become the dream and the boy has been beaten into submission. You’ve been wiped out. Gone. Only an echo remains.

    You’re not a man, either. Not really. Bossed around, sucked up to, seeking endless amounts of approval — you’re lost and this realm is your personal hell.

    I’d say “Lost, my friend.” but you won’t listen to a stranger or wait for synchronicity. Not anymore. The vultures you confide in would kill you in your sleep to profit off your death. They’re not going to go through with murder, but they’re thinking it. They’re feeling you’ve outlived your splendor. You’ve hit your peak. There is nothing, save for that one song everybody knows, that you could do to top that.

    Where are you, man? Do you need a map to find your way home? What is home, but a collection of all the shit you’ve never wanted and all the shit you think you’re supposed to have. You entertain. You have people you call “friends,” but really they’re just folks who want a taste of your fame. You’re the cool guy, so you be cool, even when you don’t wanna be. Then, your “friends” suck off that cool so they can be cool, too.

    But you’re not cool. Not anymore. You’ve been sick. Diseased, deep down inside. For a long time. Oh, you did try and fix it. You went through rehab. Twice. You thought marrying Mrs. Rock Star might help, but your relationship is just a band-aid. You know that. She knows that. And one day, you’re both going to have a hard time facing that. Already, there’s cracks in your relationship but you don’t want to admit what’s happening, so you’ll ignore your growing issues and hope the marriage’ll sort itself out — but you have no one to turn to, no place to go for advice.

    Who’d understand, anyway? Imagine the hell you’d go through if you did divorce that plastic doll. You’re living the dream, right? Only that’s the price you paid. Everybody’s lying to you because you’re the Rock Star. You have something to give them. They made you. You owe them your legacy. Or do you?

    The dream is fading. The Rock Star is disappearing along with your fame. You’ll live on in your song. But you died along time ago.

    So when I come for your autograph, if I have the time, it’s to commemorate your death, man. It’s to stand witness to the boy with a dream, who one day grew up to write this amazing song everybody knows.

    Rest in peace.

    Mood: Wintermudgeon
    Caffeinated Beverages Consumed: Beh
    Work-Out Minutes Logged Yesterday: House cleaning. Grr.
    In My Ears: Nothing
    Game Last Played: Sonic and All-Stars Racing Transformed
    Movie Last Viewed: A Good Day To Die Hard
    Latest Artistic Project: Contest design (In progress)
    Latest Release: “The Button” We Are Dust anthology

Miss Random USA

Yuna Final Fantasy X-2

Good morning! Well, this week was supposed to be a strict “reading deprivation” diet. I made it all the way to Wednesday — excited I’d gotten so much done — then Thursday I blew it. Mostly because I was nervous sitting in the doctor’s office, waiting for the SO to come back from his appointment. (Good news, so far. Phew!) And got overly excited with the Top Cow Talent Hunt announcement that loomed on my immediate horizon. The contest had almost 900 writers submit and the commonalities of the pitches helped eliminated the writers. While I did not win, I am very happy for whomever did, though! However, that does not declare the end of my fate in comics. I signed a contract for an original short comic and I’m pitching another series. So, I won’t qualify next time around, but I’m very excited that I’m finally breaking into this industry.

I’m trying the reading deprivation tack again for another week. I managed to get the edits done for an adventure science fiction novella and have to enter them into Megatron (my compy) yet, but that should be done today along with cleaning and a plethora of [Redacted Projects x a lot]. This is the first time The Thirteen is reading one of my longer works and I’m anxious to see how they critique this. Then, we’ll try an even longer novella. Hee.

I finally sent out some of my Christmas presents, which will be pictured at bottom. The red quilted earrings, choker, and copper ball drops are original designs; the other two are variations on a pattern. I had no choice but to stick to my original Edward Gorey plan o’ Christmas cards. Only, the interior said Season’s Greetings. I may have decorated the inside with flowers, music notes, and other paraphernalia by saying Happy Spring Season’s Greetings, but so it goes.

Because I was supposed to reduce my intake of words, when I did get caught up in news, I was more painfully aware of what happened when I did. A few articles in particular got under my skin. Namely, having to do with politics and predisposition, the Magdalene Laundry tragedy, and the Orson Scott Card writes Superman kerfluffle.

I took my stress as a learning opportunity and translated the experience into hard data, a tactic designed to reduce stress and increase productivity, and wrote about it for BookLifeNow.com as a two-part article. I’ll let you know when it appears.

The other consequence to going offline is that I miss news and whatnot. This weekend, I’ll also be putting together some lots for an auction called “Evil for Crestline.” You can read more about the tragedy (the burning down of Crestline Elementary and its effect on the community) in the auction. I’ll update you about that, too, as more news develops.

Overall, I’m very happy because I’m seeing immediate payoffs to the attention I’ve given to my business, the goals I’ve set, and what I’ve achieved so far. My writing pace is back where it needs to be (3,000 to 5,000 words per day) and I’m steadily pursuing a better and a consistent method of editing. What I’ve found, there, is that it all comes down to how the draft was written. I know a lot of writers talk about process, but I prefer to internalize those elements and the only way to do that? For me, the answer is to write. Not talk about writing or give advice or obsess about process — but write. If I can’t write, I show up anyway, and flip to something else. But tying my creative work to the dollars I earn has been the best motivator, overall.

And, for that reason, I believe 2013 is the true start to my career. *winks*

Here are the pics!

Red Quilted Earrings 2
Cupcake Pendant 2
Victorian Choker and Copper Ball Earrings 2
Daisy Crystal Bracelet 2

    Mood: Not caffeinated enough.
    Caffeinated Beverages Consumed: WAY too much pop-a-doodle-doo.
    Work-Out Minutes Logged Yesterday: Walking. In the bitter cold.
    In My Ears: Cher! ‘Cause… CHER!
    Game Last Played: Sonic and All-Stars Racing Transformed
    Movie Last Viewed: A Good Day To Die Hard
    Latest Artistic Project: SHINIES. A few you can see above!
    Latest Release: “The Button” We Are Dust anthology

Why Skulls

The Tick Weapons Lab Avatar

Taking a quick break between projects today to whittle down the dread pile o’ mailing and dive into more research. I made a master to do list and found there’s a lot of it to do. Sigh. Anyway, in between that and trying to figure out why the HECK my Bowie ain’t playing like he should on iTunes… Yes, I am having a day filled with minor annoyances. Minor, but still annoying. Like the fact my cats are both fuzzy, little angels today while, just yesterday, they were hell cats. This is because they know when I’m on deadline. Eesh.

So, today I shall reveal a secret. Why skulls? Why do I design skull jewelry like the earrings below and collect skull scarves (I currently have three), etc.? (You should see my house. It’s not country living, that’s for sure!)

haunted skullSkulls are an ancient symbol and, in many world myths, is believed to be where the soul is housed. A reminder of our own mortality, a skull can also signify miracles, rebirth, and other magical concepts connected to the passage of time and how we move through that. Of course, the symbol had more pragmatic uses for pirates and prostitutes. Symbols are often used to clearly identify groups of people or evoke emotions — like fear or the radical notion that all human beings end up the same way. “Death comes to us all.”

I’m a touch romantic. I rather like the idea that one symbol can mean two very different things. Not to mention, the “facing one’s mortality” has special significance to me. If you think about it, miracles tell us the fantastic can happen. Death, life — these aren’t just everyday miracles. This is magic.

When a skull starts “talking,” and death is at my door to reality — I watch for an everyday miracle. That’s what skulls do for me. Remind.

    Mood: Scully! Bad joke.
    Caffeinated Beverages Consumed: Iced tea. Yes, I’m waiting for Spring.
    Work-Out Minutes Logged Yesterday: There was a gym. I went to it.
    In My Ears: Nothing. For some reason, Dave Mathews Band. And then? Nothing. Oh, wait! BOWIE’S BACK!
    Game Last Played: Sonic and All-Stars Racing Transformed
    Movie Last Viewed: The Warrior’s Way
    Latest Artistic Project: SHINIES. Still need to take pics…
    Latest Release: “The Button” We Are Dust anthology

Oh, Ye Purse Conundrum

Jack The Pumpkin King Avatar

I hate buying a new purse. I really, really do. The issue isn’t just the design for me, it’s the materials because I can’t justify spending X amount on a design that isn’t intentional, functional, and made well. Lately, it’s also the weight because we’ve cut down our carbon footprint by bringing our own bags and I always, always, always have pen and paper with me at all times. Outside of groceries, most of what I shop for will fit in a purse, anyway — but weight can get to be an issue as well as the price. I have… Um… Not cheap tastes. I’ve spent $20 on a decent purse and $200; but I’m picky.

So, I bought a LeSportSac this time around. No, I did not have one in the 80s. Shut up. And yes, this means I am now old. Why they haven’t come up with a sugar skull pattern yet I’ll never know. (Shhhh… Don’t tell them, either because I just bought a black-and-white design and will likely have glowing red eyes if they put one out in the next few years. That or an ombre. Eesh.)

Pie in the sky? Pick an awesome purse, price no object, that’ll last forever and is pure, 100% bats of awesome?

THIS.

Nightmare Before Christmas Bag

Mega huge props to Disney for partnering with Harvey. (There are several other Nightmare Before Christmas purses you can find here, too.) For those of you who don’t know, the Harvey purses are made out of seat belts. Brilliant, well designed. Love, love, love. Just wasn’t in the budget.

    Mood: Responsible
    Caffeinated Beverages Consumed: Caffeine at the ready. Deadlines at the helm.
    Work-Out Minutes Logged Yesterday: Blargh.
    In My Ears: A soundtrack I can’t properly pronounce. (It’s in Japanese.)
    Game Last Played: Sonic and All-Stars Racing Transformed
    Movie Last Viewed: The Warrior’s Way
    Latest Artistic Project: SHINIES. Still need to take pics…
    Latest Release: “The Button” We Are Dust anthology

Reading Deprivation And Other Miscellany

Fizgig Avatar

Hard to believe it’s almost six o’clock on a Saturday, but here I am. Many of the pitches I sent out have borne fruit; I’m busy working on outlines and drafts at the moment and just finished a science fiction novella. There’s been a few delays on projects due to elements out of my control, but I’m happy with the progress I’ve made so far and I’m getting a really slick setup for recording audio as part of my birthday present. So, there’s that. (And that’s very exciting!)

I’m still behind on mail and filing, but I’ve cleaned up my office and managed to reduce some of the clutter so I can focus on projects. I’ve got a lot of books lying around and while I’m happy to be in such good company — surface space is crucial when painting or making jewelry. C-r-u-c-i-a-l.

Now that I’m here, a few things I’d like to mention. This week, I’m scheduled for a reading deprivation session so no Tumblr or social media. E-mail only during regular work hours. (e.g. 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.) This is part of a program I’m immersed in right now; one of the theories behind the deprivation is that artists are heavily influenced by environment and “junk” words/experiences. Branding, for example, is a tiny, tiny piece to that. Just watching TV, you’ll encounter thousands of brands every day.

But, back to the junk concept. Really, junk experiences lead to junk emotions and sensationalism is all about forcing you to feel something you might not normally feel for a click. What you do with that reaction fascinates me from a sociological standpoint. How much time do we waste on that crap? I’ve had good luck with social media blackouts before and I think smaller reading deprivations, like the one I’m about to dive into, are more effective than what I did for the 100 days social media blackout because I’m taking back control of what I consume. For myself, that’s essential to everything I do, especially since I need to listen in order to hear a story’s pulse or the rhythm of a song or the pattern on a canvas, etc.

For any artist, output matters so much more than input, because this is who we are. It’s not like being on an assembly line; there’s an ebb and flow. Sometimes that depends upon money but other times it doesn’t. It just depends on the person and I’m a “It’s the journey — not the destination” type. So recognizing the swinging periods, whether they be mood, weather, or related to something else is crucial for my work — for ALL my work.

Before I go, two things. First, stand up and applaud humankind. We have designed a machine that has drilled a hole in the surface of Mars. If that does not instill you with a sense of wonder? I don’t know what will.

And two, the “largest” ancient Scottish art installations have been discovered recently. The reason why I’m pointing that one out, is because there was a lot of references to the cup-shaped marks in the rocks. They don’t know why the ancients made cup-shaped marks, but in more recent times holy water and milk filled the indentations. From what cursory research I’ve done on this, there’s a theory the marks are related to a fertility rite — but I’m not buying it at all. (Besides, everything is a fertility rite if you turn your head sideways.) I’d be curious to line up the position of the stars at the time and test the reflection of the water under different conditions. Fill the marks with water, light a fire or two or wait for sunrise/sunset, and you have some potentially heavy duty lighting effects for your magical ceremony/oracle/priest right there.

Anyway, just thought I’d mention it. Another weather advisory for tomorrow. Freezing rain. I think I could use some spring now. No wonder why I bought that hot pink purse. Eesh.

    Mood: I’ll get back to you on that.
    Caffeinated Beverages Consumed: I broke down. Having a Diet Dew.
    Work-Out Minutes Logged Yesterday: Stairs. They sucked.
    In My Ears: AX Music Volume 15 Utopia.
    Game Last Played: Sonic and All-Stars Racing Transformed
    Movie Last Viewed: I don’t know the name of it, but it was a spaghetti western with crow ninjas in it.
    Latest Artistic Project: SHINIES. Still need to take pics…
    Latest Release: “The Button” We Are Dust anthology
Previous Posts Next Posts




Looking for Monica’s books and games that are still in print? Visit Monica Valentinelli on Amazon’s Author Central or a bookstore near you.

Archives

Back to Top