Living With the Weird

Editing an anthology as large as this book of weird we’re doing is a bit like fighting a war or running some kind of multi-threaded private political campaign. Attrition. Battles won. Others to fight. Some things seen clearly. Some hazy as we feel our way through a dark forest. Others beckoning on the horizon. True light or false? Recalibrating. Secure that flank. Fall back over here. Rally again at this point. Hold the line right here no matter what…and it’s also like living in a cell of sorts. Working from morning until midnight. Rarely getting outside. Seeing the book come together bit by bit. Exercising at home. Watching the lawn turn to weeds. Wondering if it’s worth it. Well, at least by the end of this I’ll be able to bench two-fifty, if I don’t get knifed in the side.

Comments

  1. Christopher Robbins says

    It’s funny that you should mention exercise. I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently in regards to writing. I know a lot of writers that run, but most (I’m assuming) don’t lift weights. I remember you saying that you do. I do to. Strangely, I’ve often been worried that there’s an inverse relationship between weightlifting & intelligence. The more you do it, the less smart you become. So, at times, I have the perverse desire to get “ripped” like a bodybuilder but have a fear that it would bring my intelligence & creativity to a screeching halt & turn me into one of the cast members of The Jersey Shore. Maybe?

  2. says

    Instead of a sound mind in a sound body, perhaps you can be striving for a weird mind in a weird body?

    Seriously, exercise is great. I need to get back in the routine so I can sleep better and be quicker. How long do you workout a day? 1 hour? 2?

  3. says

    Hm… a weird mind in a weird body brings to mind a commercial where a skinny young woman has one arm (only one) which is a massive musclebound hulking THING.

    So yeah: do a bunch of curls and extensions with just one arm. The other arm must go completely vestigial. That should be weird enough.

  4. says

    Oh, and D. Harlan Wilson is a “pseudobodybuilder” which I think means “can crush most other authors, but is not entering actual bodybuilding contests.” Though he is “bizarre” and not “weird” though if you pressed me, I would be in trouble to define either.