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Author: Marcus

Keep Looking. No, Harder. More. Again.

Keep Looking. No, Harder. More. Again.

Just a reminder here—because most of us need reminding, now and again—to keep looking at everything around you. Noticing things others don’t notice is part of being an artist. You have to be able to convey a vision to the world, either an internal or a translated external one (come to think of it, inner visions have to be translated themselves).

In order to fully convey your vision to us, you need to have seen and absorbed what you’re putting down for others. You can’t do that unless you’re really good at seeing stuff.

It’ll seem too simple at first. Then, as you keep noticing and looking deeper and longer, you start to see that it’s almost infinitely complex, and you could get lost in the most mundane slice of your day. But don’t stop. The idea for your next thing comes from what you see and how much and how far you see into it.

Searching Desperately Through the Ruins and Trying Not to Panic

Searching Desperately Through the Ruins and Trying Not to Panic

NaNoWriMo excerpt, there’s a bunch of jargon building up in this, and I’m wary of such things. But it’s a first draft, judgment should wait:

Long abandoned by the corporate enclave founders, there were scattered opportunists who’d barricades themselves a few independent co-ops and communities, but they liked to stay isolated and wouldn’t exactly be open to a stranger and his bear, boosted or no. He knew of a small group somewhere south of the bridge that Manola had friends among, but that was it. He’d have to try to feel them out with his chatbit and see if he could get the message through a friendly wavelane.

A Bridge and Abandoned Buildings Over the River

A Bridge and Abandoned Buildings Over the River

A NaNoWriMo excerpt:

Ahead of them, jumbled walls and the few buildings that still stood, open-eyed with glassless windows. Bluesong imagined hordes of people waiting for them, hidden behind the walls and burned out columns of temporary shelters. It was probably unlikely, he knew, but he couldn’t stop his imagination conjuring. But they were at the middle with no movement or sound from the other side. Only the slow rush of the river below them made a sound above their own feet, so he pressed on. They were just about to the other side, and Bluesong about to tell Ya-Ya he needed an access point, when the alarm sirens started pulsing behind the walls of Pearl City

Change It Up Now and Then to Stay Loose

Change It Up Now and Then to Stay Loose

Specifically, I mean your style, whatever that is. We build styles by copying the artists we love, not directly and by specific example, but all at once, everything.

All the stuff you love about an artist should go into the mix, and if you can combine one or more in the same concept or even final piece, congrats! You’re making something new out of a remix.

Encountered Along the Way, Closely

Encountered Along the Way, Closely

I watched Spielberg’s Close Encounters of the Third Kind yesterday. I’m always struck by how carefully he set up his shots (well-deserved Oscar by cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond), and tells the story with just enough info to go forward with, forcing you to create the missing information in your own mind.

You Know What They Say, Out of the Frying Pan, Etc.

You Know What They Say, Out of the Frying Pan, Etc.

NaNoWriMo excerpt:

But here they were. Bluesong was panting heavily and feeling a little dizzy—his weekly workouts weren’t very rigorous—but the bridge loomed just ahead through the trees, which had thinned a little as they rounded the inside river bend turning south. A few hundred yards and they’d be safe. Well, that was being laughably optimistic. East of the river was slicer territory, and he didn’t really have a good working knowledge of their range

A Path Forged in Real Time, a Ford to Come

A Path Forged in Real Time, a Ford to Come

NaNoWriMo excerpt, and this is slow going, folks:

Somehow, he’d need to get within range of an open localnet node and send a message to Manola. She’d know what to do, and maybe she could help find out what had happened to his life since this morning, when he’d thought everything was still normal. He tried not to think about the growing possibility it would never be so again.