Local children’s book author Greg R. Fishbone today marked his return to The Spectacle group blog with a 60,000-word screed on the use of rutabagas in science fiction. “I’ve been thinking that there just aren’t enough books about rutabagas…” started the entry, which proceeded to describe every appearance of the root vegetables in science fiction books, movies, and video games. The exhaustive list was broken up by occasional tangents into the metaphysics of belly-button lint, Cretaceous-Era honeybees, and a bizarre conspiracy theory involving the depletion of toiletries from the U.S. Strategic Toiletry Reserves.

“The general readership has no idea why they let Greg R. Fishbone back into The Spectacle, especially after the 30,000-word anti-armadillo diatribe of 2009,” stated a longtime follower of The Spectacle which, when not being written by Mr. Fishbone, is known for insightful commentary into young adult and middle-grade speculative fiction by some of the top names in the genre. “Singleton writes for The Spectacle. Sensel writes for The Spectacle. Peevyhouse writes for The Spectacle. They don’t let just anyone in…or at least they didn’t until now.”

Sources indicate that Greg R. Fishbone is hard at work at another shared blog entry to end all shared blog entries. Cackling laughter has been heard from high atop the battlements of stately Fishbone Manor along with the ominous intonation of, “Squid! I’ve been thinking that there just aren’t enough books about squid…”

A startling report released today from the Stuffed Animal Preservation Society reveals an unexpected disappearance of penguins from the living room of local children’s author, Greg R. Fishbone. “The North American Stuffed Penguin once flocked all up and down these stairs,” Fishbone told a documentary film crew that’s been following this story. “It’s almost as if they’ve been moved aside to make room for something else…”

The penguins first arrived as gifts from fans and well-wishers around the release date of The Penguins of Doom in 2007. Over the years, the stuffed penguins adapted to an indoor environment bereft of their natural enemies, stuffed sea lions. They multiplied wildly, filling all available surfaces until this week when suddenly, they were gone, perhaps the victims of condo warming. “It has been a hot summer,” Fishbone admitted.

Scientists are at a loss to explain the sudden disappearance but warn that an open niche in the living room ecosystem will not remain empty for long. “Something new is coming,” said Fishbone. “Something bigger than a planet. Bigger than a star. Perhaps as big as a galaxy. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

After nine years of sporadic online journalling, local children’s author Greg R. Fishbone announced on Tuesday that his popular writing blog, Let the Games Begin, would be shifting to a faux-journalism format.

“It’s a format that projects objectivity and professionalism even when none exist,” Fishbone explained to a large roomful of eager reporters. “Otherwise ordinary remarks, filtered through an imaginary roomful of eager reporters, seem to take on more weight and importance. One might even imagine a round of enthusiastic applause where, otherwise, there’d just be the sound of a snoring cat.” This statement was immediately greeted by a round of enthusiastic applause and a subdued meow.

Blogging experts predict the format change will allow the site to stand out more among a crowded field of competitors, leading to an expected 57% increase in readership. “Especially effective in this context are the use of made-up statistics and the citation of anonymous experts,” remarked one anonymous expert.

The change goes into effect immediately, and may be made retroactive with the help of creative editing of past posts. So is the journalism format here to stay? “Anything is possible,” said Fishbone, in an exclusive interview from his helicopter-based headquarters. “I expect this format to continue into the distant future, or at least until I get bored with it and go on to something else.”

The World Cup is over and the winner is Spain!  As predicted by a psychic mollusk. Possibly because Spaniards have a higher prevalence of feline brain parasites.

Suddenly, soccer is more than just playing for hours to break a one-one tie, so it should be no wonder that these games were more widely watched in the United States than any previous World Cup.

Even John Cleese was inspired to weigh in with a comparison of Association Football to American Football. His arguments: 1) Strategy in Association Football is determined by players rather than by coaches and offensive coordinators; 2) Play in American Football is broken up more often for commercial breaks; 3) American Football is violent; 4) American footballs aren’t spherical and therefore shouldn’t be called “balls”; and 5) American Football isn’t actually played with your feet.  Valid points, perhaps, but let’s address them one by one.

1. If the strategy you’re referring to is which direction and how hard to kick a ball, there’s no need to get an offensive coordinator involved. There’s little more to soccer, except that when I played soccer in 7th grade there were also slide tackles. Somehow, it was legal to slide into an opposing player and make them eat turf, and our strategy was to make that happen as often as possible regardless of who scored how many goals. In American football, there are passing plays, running plays, onside kicks, two-point conversions, clock management, and a variety of offensive and defensive formations. Some of these calls are made from the sidelines but so what? Advantage: American Football.

2. Commercials are not entirely evil. They can be as entertaining as the game itself, which is why so many commercial campaigns kick off during, or are exclusive to the Superbowl. Besides, if a soccer game goes for so long without built-in breaks, how do the fans refresh their snacks or use the bathroom without missing some of the action? Then again, it is kind of refreshing to see a game clock that doesn’t stop just because somebody dropped the pass or stepped out of bounds. Advantage: Association Football.

3. Violent? Heck, yeah! At least when somebody gets hit and falls down in American Football, you know it’s not a flop. Advantage: American Football.

4. Association Football and American Football (along with rugby, Australian-rules football, and other games) derive from the same ancestral game that was played in medieval Europe. The ball in question was “made of leather, fabric, or wood, a pig bladder filled with hay, or even a wooden block.” If you’re going for an authentic and historic size and shape for your football, it seems like anything goes. Soccer’s opted for a ball that rolls easily when kicked. Football’s gone for a design that can be spiral-tossed for long yardage. Advantage: Neither.

5. American Football isn’t played with your feet. True enough. Advantage: Association Football.

Result: Let’s call it a draw.

Found in my local gas station!

Let’s talk about these chips I found in my local gas station mini-mart. The Asian dragon makes me think of China. The font looks like it was lifted from a Chinese restaurant menu. But aren’t those Japanese katakana characters up there, wedged between the “Chips” and the dragon’s nose? Yes, they are, and they say: “Wasabi!” It’s the only place you’ll find the word on this bag unless you take a magnifying glass to the ingredients.

You’ll find wasabi in the green paste you get with sushi, on rice crackers and chips from Japan, and coating some dried green pea snacks, as a distinctive medium-hot horseradishy flavoring. But if you don’t read Japanese, the marketing  department at Frito-Lay figures you don’t really need to know what you’re eating. The product development people, on the other hand, have done a great job of teaming wasabi up with corn chips. If you see these in your local gas station mini-mart, grab a few bags!

It may be a case of being too close to the source material, but I haven’t been thinking of Galaxy Games as a humor book. It’s been primarily science fiction and sports with lots of funny bits thrown in. I also didn’t think of Penguins of Doom as a humor book, but as a contemporary fantasy with humorous events told in a humorous voice. If it’s not acknowledged as a humor book, I told myself, I get to be funny only when I want rather than having an obligation to toss out punchlines on a regular basis.

Now, however, may be the time for me to reassess my writing in general as well as in the specific case, to take hold of the virtual podium, and to proclaim: “I’m Greg R. Fishbone and I write funny books for kids. And teens. And penguins.”

Feedback from my editor at Publisher-I’m-Still-Not-Daring-To-Name-In-Public: “Some members of the acquisitions committee didn’t get the book because they only read the first three chapters, which weren’t punchy, hooky, or funny enough.” Except she probably didn’t use the words “punchy” or “hooky” because that’s just me cribbing from my notes of our conversation. Now that I’ve had a week to think about it, I’m sure the committee was right on and I’m the one who didn’t get the book–because the middle and end parts are pretty damn funny if I do say so myself. Hence a violation of the Promise Principle of novel writing:

The Promise Principle:

The first chapter of a book (along with the title and jacket copy) should set up a reasonable expectation of style, genre, character, and plot. The rest of the book must fulfill the promises made, or otherwise leave the reader feeling satisfied rather than cheated.

If you fail to do this, the best you can hope for in reader reaction is the Positive Bait and Switch.

The Positive Bait and Switch:

“That wasn’t at all the book I thought it was going to be, but I liked it anyway.”

But just as often you’ll get a Bait and Switch Off.

The Bait and Switch Off:

“Someone told me the book would be funny, but I stopped reading after three chapters of not laughing.”

A humor book has to front-load some of the humor, which is difficult because the nature of humor is to require a setup and punchline, or better yet, multiple punchlines. Since I wasn’t thinking of Galaxy Games (still in search of a title, by the way) as a humor book, I was spending three or four chapters on mostly setup before dropping several loads of punchlines.

The challenge with a humor book is providing punchlines at the beginning that require little or no explicit setup and yet blend seamlessly into the funny stuff that happens later on. If I can do this successfully, the book will head back to the committee and there will be thunder. Ka-pow!

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