Rudy’s Blog

I’ve been busy making some photo-album books and a new edition of my art book, now with 62 full-size paintings for $29 from Lulu: Better Worlds.

As regular readers of Rudy’s Blog will know, I have an interest in creating art books and photobooks, whether for family gifts or for products that I can sell online as print-on-demand books.

I first did this in December, 2008, when I designed the first edition of Better Worlds , with only 47 pictures. (As mentioned above, the new version has 62.) At that time I blogged some information about my process, and I wrote some down in a note to myself. But now that I’m going through the process again, I thought it would be worthwhile to write up the steps so I can find them again. And maybe some of my readers might find this useful as well.

I’m going to describe a procedure is for a Windows machine with Office 2007, Adobe Acrobat Pro, and two gigabytes of RAM. The basic process is to create a document that looks like your photobook, save it as a high-resolution Adobe PDF, and upload this PDF to a print-on-demand site. (In principle it seems like you could do essentially the same thing on a Mac, but my expertise is in Windows.)

Why don’t I just use Lulu’s online photobook design software or Blurb’s downloadable design software BookSmart? Well—I’m a computer hacker and I like to tweak. And I don’t like either the Lulu or the Blurb wares very well, as they default to cropping my pictures—and generally I have already cropped my pictures to be the way I want. (I know I can cancel the cropping, but that takes a lot of clicks.) I also find the Lulu and Blurb software to be somewhat kludgy and hard to use—the response is sluggish and you have to repeat a lot of steps, and when you make a big book, the wares are highly prone to running out of RAM and freezing up. Also, I worry that these wares may in fact downsample my images to a lower resolution than I’d like. And my guess is that the Mac iPhoto bookware also tends have these same two issues, that is, the issues of cropping your images and of downsampling images to overly low resolutions.

So I’m learning to do it myself with Word and Acrobat Pro. I actually own a copy of Adobe In Design, which is especially made for designing books, but so far I haven’t gotten it together to learn how to use it. It seems like I can what I want done pretty easily with Word.

Here are the steps.

Create Your Document File

Put your JPG files into a directory. Create a Word document in this file. The shape of your pages needs to match the shape of a book that an online print-on-demand publisher uses. I have been using Lulu, where I can pick a book shape and download a template in the form of a .DOC file from the link http://www.lulu.com/en/help/book_formatting_faq#book_layout. You can open this template as if it were a document, and save it as the document for your book. The pages are shaped the right way for the book.

Blurb, who provide similar services, also allow you to upload a PDF for your photo book. They only supply Adobe In Design templates for their book shapes—which mostly don’t happen to be the same shapes as Lulu’s. I’m not currently running In Design. In principle I could use Word to make an appropriate document, as Blurb does list the desired page sizes and margins and I could input these into Word using the Page Layout|Page Setup dialog…but so long as Lulu is working for me, I haven’t bothered.

Insert Your Pictures

So let’s suppose that one way or another you’ve opened a Word file with the page layout matching a targeted print book size. Use Insert|Picture dialog. It’s easiest just to insert all your pictures at once. Navigate to the directory with your pictures and make sure they’re in an order you like. If you right click in the file list you get a context menu where you can choose Arrange Icons By to get a choice or automatic orderings. Do that.

Then select all of the pictures for your album at once. Use Insert|Link to File to put them all into the document . This is important. You need to use the Insert|Link to File option rather than the plain Insert option because otherwise your document will get too large for Word to handle it. If you use Insert|Link to File option, the doc is small, and the pictures “live” outside it.

Arrange Your Pictures

Go to Word|Word Options|Display|Always show these formatting marks on the screen and turn on the check mark by Paragraph marks. Now make sure there is a paragraph break ¶ after each photo. Until you do this, you will have difficulty getting more than one photo per page.

Now select the whole file with the Ctrl+A key combination, and use Home|Paragraph|Centered if you want to center all the images. I recently made a book in a standard kind of paper shape, that is 8 inches across and 11 inches high, and I mostly put two pictures on a page, one above the other, so it was natural to center them.

You can resize the images by dragging their corners. Note—and this is the good news—that their aspect ratios are preserved. They’re not cropped. And they’ll flow together, squeezing onto the same pages if there’s room. If they are small, you can have two on one line. Insert spaces to put room between them. Or have one above the other, usually with an extra paragraph break in between for spacing.

Set-up for Printing to Adobe PDF

Now to save as a PDF. If you have downloaded the 2007 Microsoft Office Save As PDF Add-in, you have the option File|Save As PDF. Generally you don’t want to use this, as it will save your images at a very low resolution, something on the order of 72 pixels per inch, which isn’t suitable for printing.

Instead you have to use the Word Print dialog and set the printer to be Adobe PDF. In order for this Print option to be there, I believe that you need to have Adobe Acrobat Pro installed on your machine. Adobe Acrobat Pro is, I’m sorry to tell you, a product that you need to buy, it’s not free like the Adobe Reader. But I think you’re better off with the real Adobe product with some fly-by-night special-purpose ware that purports to do the same thing.

If you’re still with me, you now have to edit the Properties of the Adobe PDF print. You can reach this properties in two ways. Either directly from the Word Print menu, where you select Adobe PDF as your printer, and then go into Properties|Adobe PDF Settings Or you go to Windows Start and find the Printers and Faxes|Adobe PDF line. Right click on Adobe PDF and select Properties to and you can dive down into those same Properties|Adobe PDF Setting menus.

Ack! Too much geekage. Quick…need art…

The sixty or so pictures in the new edition of BETTER WORLDS!

Now…back to the Adobe PDF Properties Adobe PDF Setting dialog…sigh.

The easy thing to do is simply to change the Default Settings line to High Quality Print, which will probably be one of the options. But it’s probably wiser to edit the settings a bit, using the Edit dialog. Once you have edited the settings, you can Save them under a new name that you choose. So really you only need to do these tweaks once.

There are two things you want to edit.

(1) You want to make sure you’re using a high pixel count, but not so high that your PDF gets too unwieldy. Select the Edit|Images option, you can make sure that your Color Images are printed to the PDF at 300 pixels per inch (or even 400 if you can get away with it in terms of manageable file size, although really 400 is usually overkill, and results in PDF files so big that they crash my machine). Note that you set two numbers, the targeted size, and the size above which the image is downsampled to be the target size. You can set both of these to 300, for instance.

(2) Most printers require that you embed your fonts. So—if you are using fonts—go to Properties|Adobe PDF Settings|Edit|Fonts and make sure that Embed All Fonts is checked.

Print to Adobe PDF

The printing-to-Adobe-PDF process takes a long time, like maybe an hour, and uses a lot of RAM. Close all your other applications before you start it. And don’t use your computer for the time that the printing takes. First you see a dialog saying pages are being processed, and then for quite a while nothing seems to be happening but Adobe Distiller is invisibly at work. When it’s done an Acrobat window will pop up showing your file. Leave the computer alone until the printing is really done or you’ll lock it up and probably have to start over!

Depending on whether you went for 200, 300, or 400 pixels per inch, and on how many pictures you have, the resulting PDF will be a hundred megabytes or maybe a gigabyte, or more.

Upload your PDF

To upload a PDF this big to Lulu you have to use their ftp, see http://www.lulu.com/en/help/upload_big_files. You can download the free ftp client software Filezilla for doing this. Uploading your PDF can take an hour or several hours, depending on the file size. While this is happening, you can’t effectively do email or web surfing very well, as your internet link is full of bytes. It’s better to leave the machine and go do something else until the process done.

In Lulu the file ends up in a location called My Files, and then you can add it to a project—Lulu has fairly good Help online. Or you click around and eventually figure it out.

One final caution here. Often you’ll decide that you want to upload a revised version of your image-file PDF. Always give the new file a new name, like by putting “ver2” at the end. If you upload a file with the same name twice, Lulu’s database is likely to get confused and you won’t be able to use the file.

Groundhog Day is February the second! I remember living in towns with rough weather—like Geneseo, New York, up near Rochester. And then there’d be a article in the paper every year about the so-called groundhog Punxsutawney Phil in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. (What a GROOVY town name!) It seemed like Phil would always predict a heartbreaking six more weeks of Winter.

I formed a bitter theory that this so-called groundhog was in fact a fact a robot on rails. I’d discuss this endlessly with my three children, summing up my theory in the slogan:

Zzzt—*shine*—zzzt!

The first “Zzzt” is the sound of the fake mechanical Pennsylvania groundhog rolling out on rails. The “*shine*” is the illumination by a powerful TV camera floodlight producing a shadow. And then comes the predetermined and automatic second “Zzzt,” which represents the rolling back of the mechanical groundhog and the extinguishing of all human hope.

What is the motive behind this cruel hoax? My theory is that it’s designed to crush the hopes of the public at large. Why? Because a despairing populace stays inside and watches TV, only going outside to visit the shopping mall or a big-box retailer. Sufficiently beaten down, we become ideal consumers, robotic drones in the capitalist hive.

An even more paranoid theory of mine in those times was that external reality is (as quantum mechanics tells us) nothing more than a consensual group hallucination and that therefore, if the media can convince us that the weather will be bad—then the force of our collective convictions will guarantee that the weather really is bad.

By the way, I worked this last theory (that a conspiracy to forecast bad weather is creating the bad weather) as an aside into my short story, “Schrödinger’s Cat,” which appeared in Analog in March, 1981. Just for the fun of it, I’m putting a PDF version of “Schrödinger’s Cat” online for you to read. And here’s the relevant excerpt from the story:

I had a nervous breakdown during my fourth year at Wankato. It had to do with the television weather reports. Quantum mechanics implies that until someone makes an observation, the weather is indeterminate, in a mixed state. There is, in principle, no reason why it should not be sunny every day. Indeed, it is logically possible to argue that it rains only because people believe it to be raining.

Fact: in Wankato, Minnesota, there is precipitation 227 days of the year.

Before too long I thought I had determined the reason for this. All of the citizens of Wankato … even the faculty members … watch television weather reports every evening. These reports almost always predict rain or snow. It seemed obvious to me, in my isolation, that if the weather reports could be stopped, then it would not rain so often.

I tried, unsuccessfully, to gather signatures for a petition. I went to the TV station and complained. Finally, I forced my way into the studio one evening and interrupted the weather report to state my case.

“Tomorrow it will be sunny!” I cried. “If only you will believe!”

The next day it was sunny. But I was out of a job, and in a mental institution. It was clear that I needed a rest. It had been folly to shift my fellows over so abruptly from one belief system to another.

Changing perspective a bit—the movie Groundhog Day is, I would say, one of the very best science-fiction movies ever made, and has a very clever and philosophically profound treatment of time. The author of the story and co-author of the script is Danny Rubin, who maintains an interesting Blogus Groundhogus about his career and about his sacred text. I notice that the second version of Danny’s script (as revised by the film’s director, Harold Ramis), is online.

In an email today, Danny wrote me, “The first draft of the screenplay — which everybody seems interested in — is going to be published soon so you’ll get to see how it developed.” And, late-breaking news flash, Danny is giving me an unpublished SF story of his, “The Palmetto Man” to run in the Spring-Summer, 2010 Issue #9 of my webzine, Flurb, when I put out the new issue in mid-March! Yeah, baby!

[Image copyright (c) Andrew Wyeth. See the link below for purchasing prints.]

And don’t forget Andrew Wyeth’s classic painting, “Groundhog Day.” Sylvia and I had a print of this on our wall for years, it was like having an extra window. And then it fell out the window and was gone.

And, changing the subject once more, I just finished my own groundhog-day-time-period painting today, the first painting I’ve done in awhile. It’s called Amenhotep’s Ghost, and it has to do with a creature who’s making some dramatic and disturbing appearances in the closing chapters of my novel-in-progress, Jim and the Flims. He’s holding the flail, hook and ankh, symbolic of a pharoah’s power.

[Image copyright (c) Isabel Rucker 2009.]

I got some of those hieroglyphics from my daughter Isabel, who used them in this frame of her masterful graphic novel Unfurling to depict a street-person speaking “Tweakenese.”

What are Amenhotep and the tweaker saying?

“It can be Spring starting tomorrow, if only we’ll open our minds! And don’t let them fool you with the Zzzt—*shine*—zzzt! of Punxsutawney Phil! And Danny Rubin rocks!”

I only have about three more chapters to write on my novel Jim and the Flims. Right now, our hero Jim Oster has been loaded up with ten thousand jiva eggs—the jivas being some nasty aliens who want to invade Earth. The cartoonist Jim Woodring designed the original models of jivas that inspired me.

[Image of painting, “Jivas,” by Jim Woodring, 2008, which recently sold for $1200 at the Comic Art Collective.]

In the part of my book that I’m writing now, Jim Oster is in Santa Cruz, California, with all those eggs about to pop out of him and find human hosts. The jiva eggs want to get inside living humans, there to incubate and grow—and later to emerge as a grown jivas, which have the general appearance of flying beets with a long snaky tails.

Now, originally, I was assuming that it kills you to host a jiva. I thought you’d be like being a paralyzed caterpillar with a wasp larva growing inside you.

[Part of a broken Woodring-made toy with cacti.]

But then I realized that if Jim’s eggs go into ten thousand of the citizens of Santa Cruz, then that many people will killed by the lethal practice of hosting a jiva larva. That’s ten thousand deaths out of Santa Cruz’s population of fifty thousand.

“Oh well!” was my initial line of thought. “Can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs!”

I was taking a kind of prankish delight at the thought of depicting mass destruction in Santa Cruz. The town is like a second home to me, by the way, and I love it dearly…but it seems like a great locale for disaster scenes.

I was also thinking that if ten thousand people died, then I could have a scene of Jim confronting all those dead souls at once, and that would be dramatic. And I was imagining the new ghosts moving into a new tract-home-style development in the afterworld, a place called Nueva Santa Cruz.

But yesterday I decided not to decimate the population of Santa Cruz after all. I think some readers would be turned off to encounter a mass die-off in what’s meant to be a fairly light-hearted novel—it would bring them down, and my goal is to show my readers a good time. A massacre like that hangs up the story-flow. People start brooding over it. And I’d prefer to to keep things bouncing.

So I’m putting in some mumbo-jumbo about the jivas having tweaked the egg-in-human-body routine so that the latter-day Jivaic saints of Santa Cruz can carry their alien spawn to term without lethal effects.

I love how flexible things are in SF. Give people a floating log to hang onto, and they’re willing to go with the flow, and right over a waterfall if that’s to be part of the fun. It’s like that poster of a UFO that was in agent Mulder’s office in the X Files with the caption: I WANT TO BELIEVE. (Click here for the history of this poster.) I always loved that slogan, it really gets to the heart of what ufology and science fiction are all about.

I just finished reading Don Delillo’s White Noise, which was first published in 1985, and is out in a very nice Penguin Classic Deluxe paperback.

[My favorite toy raygun. By the way, my artist friend Paul Mavrides did a great painting, "Peace Dividend" of rayguns in 1997.]

Somehow I didn’t read Delillo’s book when it came out, even though there was considerable buzz. Maybe I was bitter and envious that Delillo was getting the lit-crit attention that I wished we cyberpunk SF writers were getting. You can’t really trust writers’ opinions about other writers books—many of us are, at least some of the time, mean-spirited, back-biting, and resentful.

Anyway, White Noise kicks ass. Other than it’s (refreshing) lack of computers and the internet, it could have been published this year. The dialog is amazingly flat and hard-hitting. And the plot elements are somewhat science-fictional: an unfathomable “airborne toxic event,” and a mysterious high-tech drug called Dylar. Delillo does this cool thing of throwing in generic TV and advertising phrases, standing on their own in little paragraphs, breaking up the action. “Technology with a human face.” “And this could represent the leading edge of some warmer air.” “Not that I have anything personal against death from our vantage point high atop Metropolitan County Stadium.”

[Advertising pins for the 1980 Virgin Books edition of my novel White Light, the pins stored in an argon-filled tetrahedron at the Rucktronics Museum in Silicon Valley.]

Quite a few of Delillo’s scenes are set in a supermarket, with our characters bathed in the waves and radiation of product information. The white noise. They get most of their information about the world from supermarket tabloids.

[A Liberty Light, a gift from my friend Nick Herbert, who at one time worked for the manufacturer.]

The other thing I’ve been into during this rainy, cabin-feverish week is to listen to a boxed set, Back to Mono, of singles produced by Phil Spector 1958-1969. I got it from the library.

My favorite is Darlene Love, singing “Today I Met the Boy I’m Going To Marry,” which you can hear in this YouTube video of…the phsyical record spinning on a turntable. It’s gotten very hard to find free mp3s of songs online, but for some reason you can find a lot of songs being “pirated” as soundtracks of YouTube videos. You can find mp3s on marketing sites like lala.com, but then they only let you hear the things once before buying it. And if you really want to get an mp3 for free you end up on, like, a Polish language site seething with malware. So hooray again for YouTube.

There are a number of videos of the Ronettes, though—they’re the supreme girl-group named after their lead singer Veronica (Ronnie) Bennett, who was later married (unhappily) to Phil Spector—thus she’s more commonly known as Ronnie Spector. That’s “Be My Baby” above, in a kind of weird video of a TV show with, oh my god, gogo dancers. Ronnie’s not a really great dancer herself, but it’s sweet and cute to see her and the other two Ronettes do their best. Probably “Baby I Love You,” is a greater song, here’s a video of that, in which the two sub-Ronettes (Ronnies sister and cousin) are relegated to a role liike appliances being wheeled from a closet. I like their Easter Parade outfits in this one.

I always had trouble figuring out what ethnicity the Ronettes were—turns out they’re a mix of black, white, and Native American. Researching them and Phil Spector and his other groups, it seems like most of them had pretty rough lives. Phil Spector’s in jail for killing a woman, for instance, with no chance of parole till he’s 88.

Looking back to happier times…another great group that Spector recorded were the Crystals, led by the wonderful Lala Brooks. We’re talking “Da Doo Run Run.” You can see the Crystals sing it on YouTube. Oddly enough the song “He’s a Rebel,” which is credited to the Crystals, was in fact sung by Darlene Love. Here’s a recent video of Darlene Love singing the song with Lala Brooks of the Crystals. And, wow, YouTube is bottomless, here’s Darlene and Joan Jett singing the song.

[Danglng raindrops with a palm-tree-bokeh background.]

But the weirdest video of “He’s a Rebel” is the following. Back in 1964, Kenneth Anger made a fairly outrageous underground movie called Scorpio Rising, whose entire soundtrack is pop songs of the day. I remember seeing it in an art house back then and cracking up that they had “He’s a Rebel” in the movie overlaid with some clips of Jesus and the disciples walking around in some ancient religious film. You can see the movie on Google video. The “He’s a Rebel” part cuts in about twenty seconds after the 16 minute mark.

White noise, white light, white heat.

This week I’ve been working on the final revisions of Nested Scrolls: A Memoir, my autobiography. I’ve contracted for it to come out in a collector’s edition from PS Publishing in England, and then in a trade edition from Tor/Forge Books in the US. I’m not sure about the publication dates yet, either 2011 or 2012.

Today I’m running an excerpt from some material that I just added, a passage about blogging and photography. The photos are mostly from a recent walk on St. Joseph’s hill near Los Gatos.

After five and a half years of blogging, I’ve put up some seven hundred posts which, taken as a whole, bulked to a word count comparable to that of three medium-sized novels.

Have I been wasting my time? What’s the point of a blog?

The issue of wasting time is a straw man. A big part of being a writer is finding harmless things to do when you aren’t writing. To finish a novel in a year, I only have to average a page a day, and writing any given page can take less than an hour. So I do in fact have quite a bit of extra time. Of course a lot of that time goes into getting my head into the right place for the day’s writing—and then contemplating and revising what I wrote. But blogging isn’t a bad thing to do while hanging around waiting for the muse.

[Marble rye sandwich with avocado smears.]

I often post thoughts and links that relate to whatever writing project I’m currently working on. And my readers post comments and further links which can be useful. So to some extent my blog acts as a research tool.

Another thing about a blog is that it serves as a tool for self-promotion. By now, my blog has picked up a certain following, and every month it receives about a hundred thousand visits. The only ads I run are for my own books.

But my blog isn’t really about research or commerce. The main reason I keep doing it is that the form provides a creative outlet. I like editing and tweaking my posts, and I like illustrating them. I alternate text and pictures, usually putting a photo between every few paragraphs.

I need to mention that I switched over to digital photography around the time when I started my blog in 2004. I’ve used a series of pocket-sized SONY Cybershot models, a heavy-duty Canon 5D single-lens reflex camera, and a medium-sized Canon G10.

I carry a camera a lot of the time, and I’m often on the lookout for photographs. I sometimes think of photography as instant transrealism. When it goes well, I’m appropriating something from my immediate surroundings and turning it into a loaded, fantastic image.

When incorporating my photos into my blog, I don’t worry much about whether the images have any obvious relevance to the texts that I pair them with. My feeling is that the human mind is capable of seeing any random set of things as going well together. So any picture can go into any post. It’s like the Surrealist practice of juxtaposition, or like the old Sixties game of putting on music while you watch a TV show with the sound off. Our perceptual system is all about perceiving patterns—even if they’re not there.

This said, if I have enough images on hand, I will do what I can to bring out harmonies and contrasts among the words and the pictures. Subconscious and subtextual links come into play. Assembling each blog post becomes a work of craftsmanship. It gives me a little hit of what the John Malkovich character in Art School Confidential calls “the narcotic moment of creative bliss.”

Having the blog and the digital cameras has revitalized my practice of photography. With the blog as my outlet, I know that my photos will be seen and appreciated. It’s not like I’m just throwing endless packs of photo prints into a drawer. For many years, Sylvia assembled our photos into yearly family albums, but now, with the children gone, she’s let this drop. “The kids don’t want to see albums of us two taking trips,” she points out. And I’ve gone online.

Digital cameras are a whole new game for me, after using film cameras for forty years. I like how my digital cameras give me immediate feedback—I don’t have to wait for a week or a month to learn if my pictures were in focus. And I like using my image-editing software. I crop my pictures, tweak the contrast, mute or intensify the colors, and so on. It’s like being back in the darkroom with, wonderfully, an “Undo” control.

And now that I have my photo-illustrated blog, my camera acts as even more of a companion to me than before. When I’m out on the street, I’ll sometimes slip into a photojournalist mode of searching out apt images while making mental or written notes for a post.

An interesting effect of the internet is that, if you’re a heavy user, your consciousness and sense of self become more distributed and less localized. Even when I don’t have the camera along, the blog is a kind of companion, a virtual presence at my side. My old sense of self used to include my home, my workplace and the coffee shops I frequent—but now it includes my blog and my email. Bill Gibson was right. Cyberspace has become a part of daily life.

It’s raining like a mofo here in California this week. I love the winter rains, I like how every little spot of the landscape gets watered. It reminds me of the hylozoic Zen koan:

Q: “Does a stone have a soul?”
A: “The universal rain moistens all creatures.

It’s absurd how the news-media always try and put a disaster-and-crisis-and-watch-your-television slant on some a healthful and revivifying natural process that is in no sense a harsh surprise. But why even worry about them? The rain is right here, right outside, right now.

I was busy revising Jim and the Flims over the last couple of months, and now I’m ready for the final scramble to the peak.

Revising a book, I’m always anxious that it will be somehow unfixable. But it is always fixable, if I keep an open mind. When revising a book, I often I think of the I Ching hexagram number #18, a figure of six lines, some solid some broken, which looks like this.

This hexagram is Ku / Work on What Has Been Spoiled [Decay] .

It’s composed of two three-line patterns called trigrams . The upper trigram is Kên / Keeping Still, Mountain, and the lower trigram is Sun / The Gentle, Wind.

I like that phrase, “Work on What Has Been Spoiled.” “Spoiled” might suggest the notion of someone interfering with your work, but you don’t have to take it that way. Things can spoil by sitting around and beginning to rot. Or a spontaneous gesture might be spoiled by a slip or a loss of attention during the execution. The point is that you can fix it.

I’ll paste in some of the analysis of this hexagram from an online copy of the classic Richard Wilhelm translation of the I Ching, rendered into English by Cary F. Baynes (Bollingen Series, Princeton University Press, 1950).

The Chinese character ku represents a bowl in whose contents worms are breeding. This means decay. It is come about because the gentle indifference in the lower trigram has come together with the rigid inertia of the upper, and the result is stagnation. Since this implies guilt, the conditions embody a demand for removal of the cause. Hence the meaning of the hexagram is not simply “what has been spoiled” but “work on what has been spoiled”.

WORK ON WHAT HAS BEEN SPOILED
Has supreme success.
It furthers one to cross the great water.
Before the starting point, three days.
After the starting point, three days.

What has been spoiled through man’s fault can be made good again through man’s work. … Work toward improving conditions promises well, because it accords the possibilities of the time. … We must not recoil from work and danger—symbolized by crossing of the great water—but must take hold energetically. Success depends, however, on proper deliberation. … Decisiveness and energy must take the place of inertia and indifference that have led to decay, in order that the ending may be followed by a new beginning.

Write on, aided by the secret machineries of the night!

I’m revising my novel Jim and the Flims this month, getting ready for a final push to the end. I haven’t taken any new pictures since last week, so I’ll just recycle some images from 2009.

In my novel, Jim is in the afterworld (called Flimsy), and he may or may not bring his dead wife Val back to life on Earth. It’s a take on the Orpheus and Eurydice legend, but I’m considering a happy ending, although I keep wondering if a “happily ever after” ending is best.

I gather that, in romance novels, the HEA ending (as they call it) is more or less mandatory. As the romance novel writer Janet Dean says on the writing-advice website Seekerville: Escape from Unpubbed Island: “What I love about romance novels is the guarantee of a happy ending. That’s why I read and write them.” But should I be following writing advice from such a source?

[Speaking of “unpubbed island,” I keep thinking about the stories of how the Inuit supposedly dispose of aged family members who become a burden. Eventually the same fate overtakes older writers. The editors put you on an ice floe with a hunk of blubber. “We’ll be in touch.”]

[Two alien flims: a jiva and a yuel, left to right.]

Back to my plot. What if my character Jim doesn’t in fact get his wife, Val, back at the end of the Jim and the Flims?

At a deep level, Jim and the Flims is about a man coming to terms with his grief over his wife’s death. So it might be a cop-out for Jim to get Val back. Maybe it’s enough if he travels through the whole process, and at the end he’s rounded off a grief cycle. Nobody ever comes back from the dead. You can’t ever go back to the happy person you used to be.

I’d guess that the grief process is the transreal theme of the Orpheus and Eurydice myth in the first place. Here’s a link to Vergil’s version in the Georgics, and here’s a link to the story in Ovid’s Metamorphoses.

Eurydice is bitten by a poisonous snake soon after her marriage to Orpheus. Orpheus goes down to the underworld and plays his lyre and garners some sympathy. He’s like, “It was unjust, it was too soon.” Pluto, the god of the underworld, gives him Eurydice and tells him to lead her out of the underworld, but not to look back. And, when Orpheus is almost out of the cave entrance, he looks back at his beloved, perhaps worried that she wasn’t following, and now she breathes the world, “Farewell,” and fades like smoke in the air. He never sees her again, and the keepers of the underworld won’t let him come back and try again.

Vergil says Orpheus was soon torn to shreds at a wild Bacchanal, and that his severed head floated down the river to the underworld, the head still calling out for Eurydice. Ovid says that Orpheus “was the first of the Thracian people to transfer his love to young boys, and enjoy their brief springtime, and early flowering, this side of manhood.”

In other words, our bereaved poet/singer turns alkie or gay! Gotta love it.

So what about Jim and the Flims? As a half-measure, I’d been entertaining the notion that Jim does in fact get Val back to Earth at the end—but then she frikkin’ divorces him! I was thinking of that as a post-modern twist.

Or maybe it’s heavier if Jim somehow can’t get Val to come back at all. It’s not so much that she wants to come and that he mistakenly he looks at her—like in the Orpheus an Eurydice myth. I think it’s rather that Val wants to go through the zero and start again. I’d need to prefigure this kind of predilection on Val’s part, or show her growing into this mind-set during her stay in Flimsy.

All this said, I might be outsmarting myself if I don’t just do the comfortable, reader-friendly thing and let Jim bring Val back. HEA! What I can do is make this a little hard for him. Like, Val initially doesn’t want to come, and maybe he has to talk her into it. Perhaps the scary ghost of Amenhotep’s mummy shows up near Flimsy’s core and, like, scares Val into Jim’s arms.