I have been reflecting a lot lately on, well, everything. One of the concepts I have really struggled with is the idea that you can create a certain portion of your own reality. You have heard the adage "Dress for the job, you want not the job you have?" Well, at 45 years old I think there is some deep wisdom to that. 

After a lifetime of being a low flying, self-effacing, humble soldier in the blue collar world I am from, I can see where my slacker chic has informed my status. I'm not a great salesman, and even worse at self promotion. Its a defense mechanism for most of us - the ability to point out our shortcomings before others have the chance to devastate us with critique. In fact, a lot of us may have invented weaknesses in order to deflect that same criticism. 

Anyway, I have started to wonder if about every shortcoming in my life is in some way related to how I was "dressed." My attitude, my screen printed T shirts, by choice of hobbies... all of these things painted a picture that became Carl. The harsh truth is very few people will spend an ounce of energy to dig through the facade and discover who Carl really is. 

Working on putting a better image forward. More professional, more confident, and as honest as always but with a little more reserve. More on this as the situation develops. 

One of the frequent frustrations I have with tabletop gaming is how min/maxy and rules-strict they tend to be, especially for a hobby that is ultimately mostly random. I can trace a direct line from my love of D&D and subsequent RPGs to where the flame died. It didn't have as much to do with the discovery of the opposite sex as it did the increase of crunch and death of narrative. 

As a writer, I want to be part of a story (or tell a story, as a DM). I expect this as a core requirement in all my gaming, be it video games or skirmish style miniature games. This is why I think Fortnite, despite being just another FPS, snagged me. The world tells a narrative, even though the game itself is a bunch of kids hopping and shooting. 

I mention Skirmish gaming because its something I enjoy. Strike that, its something I enjoy imagining the ideal version of. Every several years I get sucked into Warhammer and get caught up in the fluff only to find the same dead-ends waiting. One, the cost. Two, the planned obsolescence. And three, and most pertinent to this post, the lack of narrative in some games. Rolling fistfuls of d6 determined most closely to the amount of dollars spent was a narrative I do not enjoy in my hobby life. I'm already keenly aware of the dagger of socio-economics, thank you.

I have broken my vow and given game design another crack. I am at a spot where I am between novels. I have one at a publisher, one rough draft finished and ready for revision, and a third started. It was as good of time as any to try this ttrpg thing once more. I have decided to design a skirmish game, one with a world I can write stories in as well as share as a sandbox with any willing gamer. The core of the game will be based on the ability to tell a story, both in the theater of the mind as well as with the components on the table. Best of all, you can use about anything you care to for miniatures and terrain - limited only by your imagination. 

I will be writing more about this project in the time to come. 

I am currently hoping to resurrect this blog, as well as my writing career. COVID-19 happened fast and it murdered a lot of my momentum and motivation. I'm in the rebuilding phase now, so I need to get back out there and build my presence from scratch. So watch this space, I will be posting much more often than I have been. 

Perhaps you thought I forgot that this was supposed to be a page about my writing career? Well, I did, sort of. 

The truth is somewhat closer to the fact I wanted to work on my writing rather than talk about it. I have been rather productive and am excited about the projects underway. Let's take a moment to visit what is coming up for the near future. 

The book formerly referred to as "The Vampire Novel" has been finished and submitted to a publisher. It is in production currently and I will keep you abreast of key milestones in its progress as I am made aware of them. I am pushing for the title "Birth of the Rat." 

The next novel I will release is nearing completion of its first full draft. It is a weird western fantasy and I am pretty happy with how it is turning out. I think it has a lot of heart and has a much more humorous approach than my previous releases. 

Lastly, I continue to work on the "Untitled" tabletop game. From the ashes of Play Your Own Adventure I hope to build a tabletop skirmish game that is rewarding for solo players, competitive players, and cooperative players alike. I want it to be narrative by nature and offer persistent characters so you can play the story of your own design. Mostly, I want its rules to to provide easy fun (something so many systems forget to bake in when it comes to miniature centered games). 

​If you are interested in any of the projects, watch this space or my Twitter account @carlsmithwriter 

I think about kids’ shoes a lot. 

Shoes were a stressful part of life as a kid. For a middle class family shoes can be an oppressive expense. Kids feet grow every time they sneeze and they are sometimes by default harder on shoes than the most severe Consumer Reports lab tech. 

My parents always bought us PayLess shoes. They did this because of the price, and I think because of the illusion of value through effective marketing. I was always happy to have new shoes. It was super cool to get to pick out a new pair. I could swallow wearing the hand me downs the neighborhood moms gave us (my own friend’s cast off clothing!), but something about shoes were more personal. Used shoes weren’t even an option. I’d wear the toeless size 8’s until they were shreds rather than wear someone else’s shoes. 

It was an absolute thrill to wear a new pair of shoes, and I often asked to wear them immediately. This was both because I felt so proud to own something new, and also because the shoes I wore into the shoe store were invariably destroyed. PayLess shoes had a knack for coming apart. My big toe would wear a hole through the top and the sole would come unglued at either end and would flop about as I walked. 

I can recall being made fun of for my shoes on several occasions, and a lot deeper into my teens than I’d like to admit. Sometimes when new shoes were not in the cards, my dad would use some sort of contact cement and glue the soles back on to the foam. It never held long and even when it did there were bits that still caught and flapped about from the uneven spreading of adhesive. 

Sometimes when I was either annoyed, impeded (PE was a hoot with these floppy soles), or needed to preemptively strike before bullying, I would tear away the flapping part. Invariably all this achieved was an uneven gait, pulling away more sole, a smaller flap, a more disheveled look, and more chance for water to seep through. It was miserable and this scene played out multiple times in my childhood. 

It was for this reason I used to be in favor of school uniforms. The topic came up a few times in the 80s, I am not sure why as public school in Council Bluffs, Iowa is hardly the place for it. Once I remember the teacher saying it was being considered because of gangs, and left it at that. But I was for it. I remember thinking if we were all forced to wear the same thing it would be one less thing for kids to bully me about. We’d all look the same, at least as far as shirt and pants go. It never passed. 

My one clothing triumph ever were my Spuds MacKenzie t shirts, purchased at Foodland grocery store out of a shopping cart (the shirts just unceremoniously dumped within, a precursor to the WalMart DVD troughs). I wore one to Wilson Junior High one day and immediately was sent to the office and asked to wear it inside out the rest of the day, and to never wear it again. My dad could not understand why. I now had two perfectly good, new shirts that I couldn’t wear to school. It was back to the ragged Star Wars shirt that showed my belly button, or any number of pocket tees. My mom took mercy on me and bought me a Hobie shirt (no way she’d splurge for TC Surf Design ot Santa Cruz), so I wore it three days a week. 

At some point around my double-digits I started to ask for brand shoes. Not incessantly, but persistently. The answer was no, of course. I remember when I got to junior high school my mom bought me a pair of Adidas, just like ones Run DMC wore in the Christmas in Hollis video, only just a couple years too late to be super cool (and of course I both laced mine to the top with narrow laces and tied them, ending any chance at hip hop cred). I felt like the king of the world. 

Later in high school when I went out for track, I told my mom I needed running shoes. I knew not to ask dad. She let me get some Saucony from the 1/2 Price Store. They were wack but I loved them. I wore Saucony running shoes as my daily shoe, gym shoe, track practice shoe, and meet shoe. My coaches continually hinted I needed spikes. I didn;t know what they were until I saw other guys’ kits. I looked in the East Bay catalog and saw the prices. No way in the world I’d ever have those. 

By a stroke of luck we found a pair on clearance late in my sophomore season. Instantly improved my 400 time (ran it around 58 sec). With those cleats, and the awareness that you should train off-season, I’m convinced I could have been something at track (I have a theory that key moments in my life would have been drastically different if for one solid mentor… everything from track to college to career. I was a directionless kid).

My junior year I bought a pair of clearance Nike with my own money, my first pair of Nike ever. They were black and hot pink, and they were indoor track shoes. They were super light and had zero support and the thinnest sole. I wore them as my regular shoe and track show, rain or shine, indoor or out. I literally wore through them. In fact, I wore them to Mexico and stepped on a nail, which had no trouble slipping through the millimeter thick rubber to pierce my foot. I got a sweet tetanus shot at the campsite from our group’s nurse. 

So fast forward to last week. My kids have never wanted for shoes. My wife is an insanely great shopper and they have had nice, new, brand name, cool shoes on their feet since birth. My daughter and I have a tradition that every year for her birthday I take her shoe shopping and we splurge on a pair of cool, non-sale shoes (usually at Journeys). My son, now that he is 11, is getting picky. He asked for all white Nike. They are awesome, but white. And he’s as tough on shoes as any 11 year old boy. 

The first day he had them he put them on with his new white socks (I splurged for matching Nike socks) and he was obviously proud. Was heading out the door to go scare up the older boys in the neighborhood, no doubt hoping to show them off. I never felt so good as a dad. Maybe that is an exaggeration.

​But shoes are important. 

​

One of the constant battles I see being waged online is (sadly) over race relations. The former majority, now finding its way or trying to, has taken it upon themselves to be quite militant in their calling-out of peers and institutions over matters of race. 

It can be a little cringeworthy at times, but I do prefer it to the alternative. Case in point, this week media darling Jimmy Fallon was called out for wearing blackface in a SNL sketch where he portrayed Chris Rock. The incident was over a decade ago, but the reaction to it is hot.

Blackface has puzzlingly been a topic du jour for a few years now. The first time I personally remember there being backlash to it was when Ted Danson attended an event in blackface on the arm of Whoppi Goldberg. And, if my memory serves me correctly, that was pre-internet. At any rate it was pre social media. 

There has been no shortage of blackface scandal since. Photos from private parties, comedy skits, movies… the list involves big names who should, at some base level, at least be aware of how the press works and try to take a safer course in their behavior. 

Blackface’s origins, which I understand are tied to minstrel shows, represent a negation of a culture. White folks would like to pay to experience an entertaining display of black culture, even if steeply flawed and poisoned by stereotypes, so long as its performed by white folks. They made an entire culture the clown: a characterization they had no agency in guiding, gained no benefit from, and suffered from the negative propagation of misconceptions. Blackface, in that form at least, is a bigoted endeavor. 

So what about actors having some fun? Fred Armisen playing Obama, because he allegedly had the best sense of the impression? Or Robert Downey Junior playing an actor playing a black soldier in a mockery of Hollywood hubris? Or, in this case, Jimmy Fallon?

The topic boils down to two other hot concepts: white washing and cultural appropriation. The former is when Hollywood employs the same logic used in minstrel shows - we know actor X.Y. will sell tickets and while the part was written for a person of color/culture, we will use them. It is the substitution for all colors with white proxies. The latter is when the experiences and beliefs, even the lives, of a culture are mined for use without their benefit, permission, or technical supervision. 

I have to ask myself - does Jimmy Fallon portraying Chris Rock fulfil any of these highly negative goals, or is it just crude humor? Comedy is difficult. We want it to shock and ratle taboos but it has a great power to harm and offend. Some of the worse bullying is defended with “it was only a joke.” 

This inner debate extends to matters outside of late night talk show hosts as well. For our book club, we have started reading Lovecraft Country. It is a wonderful book by Matt Ruff. It takes the racism inherent in the works of HP Lovecraft, pulp/weird fiction, and America and turns it into an allegorical adventure tale. The book pulls no punches with its account of racism in America. Unlike other works, I do not get the feeling that the negative energy and violence directed at the black characters is secretly some sort of wish fulfillment by the author - hiding behind the art to exorcize some terrible character flaws. But there is a question that lingers, because Matt Ruff is a white male. In 21st Century America, is it bad form for a white male to speak for the black experience in this way? I do not have an answer for this. 

When I put my feelers out into the world wide web for viewpoints, I quickly regret it. The loudest and strongest detractors seem to be, on surface, folks of privilege no different than me. Then there are folks of color who agree that it is, in one degree or other, offensive. Then there are the folks that say there are bigger problems to face. Then there are folks who say they aren’t offended. And then come the next loudest group, white folks staunchly and categorically defending their team. 

It makes it uncomfortable for me if I dwell on it too long. Are my own opinions wrong? If the offended party cannot come to quorum on this, how can I have any sort of final answer? Am I allowed to write black stories and/or black characters? What steps should I be taking to make sure I do it right? Is it any different than writing females? Gays? 

I was recently made aware of editing services that will review your text and dialogue specifically for matters of discriminatory material, intended or otherwise - from descriptions, to portrayals, to dialog. It seems like a very useful tool, if not another delay and expense for a guy like me. However, the cynic in me couldn’t help smirk that most of the services I found in my initial research were in fact other privileged American whites. 

I am not here to ask if blackface is essentially awful or just tacky, nor do I propose an answer to whether a white author can present and by its merits personally benefit from a story about black characters and black experiences. I just wanted to reflect that these questions are still debates that rage in daily life here in American in 2020. If you have an opinion on this, and can offer it in a level-headed and respectful manner, I should like to hear it. 

Above all else, let’s just love others as we would ourselves, or perhaps even better. Sometimes the way we do this is by pausing to look at the world from another angle, and ask ourselves if something that is comfortable and accepted isn’t also hurtful. And just like with all good science, use the new data to change our actions. Ask, test, review, change, repeat. 

​

I hesitate to even say its name, but COVID 19 has really caused a fair share of chaos. Its effects have stretched from trivial to substantial, and we haven't seen the end of it yet. 

I'm reminded of those sort of events in history that affect human leisure and art. Fans of music may have read about how Ska, an indigenous Jamaican genre that mixed American R&B with high energy dancing. It peaked in the late 1950's, and was permanently changed by a massive heatwave. The dance halls were too uncomfortable for the uptempo revelry, so the music morphed into rock steady and the roots of what we eventually just call reggae.

I'm looking down the barrel of no baseball this spring and I hate it. Even as I type this the cancellations of conventions and events are rolling in. But there is an exciting aspect to this; the part where us dreamers play "what if?" What if the world has to stay indoors and away from crowds? Will board games experience a boom? Will video games experience an evolution in style and audience? Will people read again?

The prospect of book sales, book talk, and book stores all increasing while sports decrease is a little satisfying, in a fiendish way. COVID-19 is nothing to make light of, but in a way, it is a very nerd-friendly pandemic. Especially for anyone who feels even slightly introverted. 

Order some books, comic, or games from your favorite independent and/or locally owned shops. If you need the name of a few, or any suggestions, hit me up! 

Of course you could always buy one of MY books... available on Audible, Amazon, and Kindle as we speak...