1. YOU STOP WRITING A NEWS piece when you run out of facts. But when do you stop writing fiction? When you run out of story, I suppose.
2. In news, the most important information goes up top. In fiction, it’s in the reader’s head — at least with genre pieces. There has to be some connection between the reader’s mind and the writer’s expression in terms of shared assumptions or expectations. A science fiction author knows his readers are unfazed by three-headed alien bankers, so doesn’t need to waste valuable real estate on justifying same beyond adhering to strict internal consistency. Someone writing for a general audience needs to adjust their bankers, but touch not the consistency! Continue reading “5 Thoughts: Fiction- v. News-Writing”
I pledge allegiance to the Constitution
Of the United States of America
And to the ideal on which it stands:
One nation of individuals
Indivisibly intertwined
With liberty, justice and peace for all. Continue reading “Allegiance Considered”
THE GENESIS OF THIS PIE lay in my reluctance to buy retail by way of an unintentional misreading of the directions in Betty Crocker’s Orange Tome. (I left out the flour and cinnamon, thinking the blueberries would make their own sauce like cranberries do. They didn’t, and while the results are rather a bit more runny than expected still it’s not too bad — worth a blog post, at least.
Fig. 1
I used:
– Two 12 oz. bags frozen blueberries from the whole-lifestyle store[1]
– Two 9-inch frozen organic pie shells from same (they come two to a package, complete with tin)
– 1 cup sugar
– 1 cup water
0. Preheat oven to 425 degrees F.
1. Put the blueberries in a big pot with water and sugar. Bring to boil, then reduce heat to a fast simmer.
2. When you realize they’re not exactly cooking like cranberries (about 10 minutes), be grateful that they’re at least nicely defrosted and ladle with a slotted spoon into one of the pie shells. (Reserve liquid for making deLICious blueberry sodas — just add seltzer!)
3. Invert the other pie shell atop the fragrant steaming blue mass; crimp edges and deflate, then poke a few holes in the top to vent. Wrap edge with a 2-3″ strip of cooking foil so it doesn’t brown horribly.
4. Bake for 30 minutes. Remove foil strip and bake another 15 minutes.
5. Set for an hour, preferably on a window sill to tempt passing scamps and hobos. Slice and serve with ice-cold, unskimmed milk. (Live a little. You’re worth it.)
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[1] That’s how it seems when I shop there. I feel simultaneously out of place and catered to in my 48-year-old-punk duds.
THE IMMEDIACY OF BLOGGING CREATES, for the blogger, a whole new way of looking at the world. It’s not much different from the world of any writer in terms of the compulsion to record, comment on and embroider every living moment; blogging just makes it easier and less private.
Privacy in today’s age of Instant Personal Broadcasting[1] (blogs, vlogs, YouTube, reality TV, chat, texting, Facebook and definitely MySpace) means something different than it did when the cautionary “1984” loomed in our future, before we collectively became Big Brother for both fun and profit. Continue reading “Posts That Never Were”
