The Vanity Press

Excuses, excuses.

Thursday I didn't post anything because the server was down. That shouldn't have stopped me from writing, but hey, it's an excuse.
Friday and yesterday I didn't post anything because of my new rule that if I spend more than ten hours at work, to hell with writing when I get home. (It was twelve hours yesterday. And eleven minutes.)
Today I didn't post anything because my mother took me out to dinner and I am completely full of lamb, which may not sound like a very good excuse until you realize just how completely full of lamb I am.

posted by Martin Marks at 8:26pm EDT // comment? by:

 

Tonight, food.

Gnocchi are commonly served with a ragù or some other tomato-based sauce, and with good reason—they're basically just blobs of potato and flour, so they need a sauce that's both strong enough to give them flavor and thick enough to stick to them. I definitely had my doubts that the asparagus-mushroom sauce I pulled out of the old Moosewood Cookbook—in fact, when I went to the store, I deliberately bought the ingredients for both that sauce and a ragù, so I would have time to change my mind. But in the end, my inner vaguetarian won out, and I went with the asparagus-mushroom concoction. I'm quite glad that I did.

For one thing, it looks downright beautiful when it's served atop the gnocchi, though in the pot it just looks like brown glop with bright green bits. But it also tastes quite good, which I gather is somewhat important as well in the world of high cuisine. I was a bit concerned that the asparagus wouldn't work, especially since I had to sauté them instead of steaming them as Ms Katzen would have had me do. (I realized immediately after I had chopped them that I didn't have any variety of steaming implement. Whoops.) But the bit of variety in the texture that the asparagus provides is what makes the whole thing work, by balancing out the squishily delicious gnocchi. The only other bit of creative license I took with the Moosewood recipe was to use whiskey instead of white wine, because that is the manner in which I roll, and to add bay leaves rather then tarragon (which I didn't have), both of which worked out fairly well. The sauce adheres fairly well to to the gnocchi, and flavors them quite nicely.

The gnocchi came out surprisingly well, actually. I thought my lack of a potato ricer or food mill or suchlike would be a problem, but in fact the little chunks of potato that resulted from my incomplete mashing were a nice little touch. The recipe there was from the Mixer Bible, which my mother bought for me to go with my KitchenAid. In principle, they were simple—I just baked four red potatos for about an hour and fifteen minutes, then mashed them and mixed them with egg, flour, salt, and baking powder, which gave me the dough. Then came the part that made me consider just ordering a damn pizza—rolling the dough into little snakies, cutting the snakies into bits, and then shaping each and every one. The key to good gnocchi is an irregular shape, so that they grab the sauce, so I had to roll each last gnoccho on the back of a fork to get the perfect groove-and-dimple effect. By my count, I made eighty gnocchi this way. (I only had 31 tonight—the rest I'll cook for tomorrow's dinner.)

(This was probably a boring entry, but I committed to posting evidence of creativity here every weekday, and given that I spent six flipping hours preparing this, it's going to get a fairly long entry.)

posted by Martin Marks at 11:41pm EST // two comments by:

• Fafner
• Martin

 

What keeps me going is knowing that every word is closer to the ending than the one before.

I actually wrote most of this tonight! Wow! It's a bit didactic and more than a bit purple, but it sets up what I need it to. I don't actually like this story that much any more, but I'm intent on finishing the damn thing—I have too many beginnings and not enough endings.

As Kellic rode north, the nights grew colder and colder, and yet he did not dare to light a fire, for fear of upsetting the inhabitants of the forest. Instead, he wrapped himself in sheepskins as best as he could and shivered through the chill.
One night, his fitful sleep was disturbed by the rustle of underbrush. He looked up to see the dim gleam of two eyes in the thicket next to the road, low to the ground and full of malice.
"Who goes there?" he said.
"You are a light sleeper, Prince of Men," said a soft voice.
"You know who I am?"
"The weasels have a proverb: 'nothing is secret that is known to a raven.'"
"I see," Kellic said. "What is your name, friend weasel?"
"I am Hermeline, of the Firethorn Stoats," she replied.
"What business have you with me, Dame Firethorn?"
"Idle curiosity, no more," she said. "I have never seen a Man before. I did not know you were so woolly."
"The wool you see is not my own." Kellic stood and shed his sheepskins.
"Ah, yes," Hermeline said. "I have heard it said that Men cover themselves in the flesh of their victims."
"We are adaptable creatures," Kellic responded. "It is the secret to our success."
"Yes, and to the gadfly's as well," Hermeline said. "And I know which I would prefer."
"Why do you hate me so, Dame Firethorn? We have never met, and by your own admission you have never even seen a human before, yet every word you speak drips with malice. Have I wronged you?"
"Your blood has wronged mine, Prince of Men," Hermeline said. "You are my natural enemy."
"Why is it that humans are the only species of animal truly hated by other animals?" Kellic said. "After all, the rabbit may fear the weasel, but they do not speak of hatred."
"Humans believe themselves to be unique. It is only fair that they should be treated uniquely."
"Perhaps," said Kellic. "But even if my species has done yours harm, I myself have caused you none. Tell me, then, Dame of Stoats, what right have you to hate me?"
"I did not say your species had wronged mine, but your blood," Hermeline replied. "Your father and your king, in whose name you serve, is my enemy. I hold you responsible for his evil."
"I know nothing about any wrongs my father has done in this forest, but I have always believed that even the most loyal subject must oppose the unjust actions of their government. If you share your grievances with me, I will decide for myself whether they were just or not, and you may then decide whether or not to hate me."
"If you wish," Hermeline said. "Your father banished to this forest two unnatural Beasts, who have upset the balance of the forest and devastated our land. They have eaten our prey and left our young to starve. As long as they live, I reserve the right to hate you and any other Men or allies of Men."
"Is what you say the truth?" Kellic said. "Did my father truly send these Beasts from the Land of Men?"
"Upon my kittens," Hermeline said.
"Then they are a problem for Men, not for Weasels," Kellic said. "Lead me to them, and I will rid the forest of this scourge or die in the attempt."
"And in return, I assume you will ask us to help you find the Princess of Numen who you seek."
"I am in no position to make demands," Kellic said. "My people have wronged you, and I am merely correcting that mistake. Once that issue is behind us, then we can negotiate as equals."
Hermeline narrowed her eyes. "If you double-cross us, Prince of Men, we will tear you to shreds."
"I have already made my vow," Kellic said. "Do you have the authority to grant me safe passage off of the Great Road?"
"Come," Hermeline said. "I will lead you to their lair."

posted by Martin Marks at 10:17pm EST // comment? by:

 

796^th Musa is probably the best thing in this ridiculous story.

Gellic found himself in a great and featureless plain under the unrelenting sun. On either side of the great road the golden grass rose as high as his horse's eye. With each shift in the gentle breeze, the grass was set to whispering, providing the perfect cover for any who might see fit to attack a traveler. In Gellic, however, they would find a sharp-eyed adversary.
"Excuse me," he said to a field mouse hiding in the grass.
"Sir has seen me?" said the surprised mouse.
"You have been following me," Gellic said. "Are you after my hardrusk or something more?"
"The bread of Men is a rare treat in these lands," the mouse said.
"Next time, little friend, simply ask," Gellic broke off a piece of hardrusk and dropped it. "I am called Gellic."
The mouse darted over, grabbed the hardrusk, and then vanished back into the grass.
"Are you still there?" Gellic asked. "I am in need of assistance."
The mouse peeped out of the grass. "A beast of the steppes does not assist a Prince of Men for a mouthful of stale bread."
"What is your name, friend mouse?"
"Musa," the mouse said. "It is an old name among the mice of the fields, and I am the 796^th of my line to hold it."
"I am honored to meet you, 796^th Musa," Gellic said. "I understand that amongst the rodents it is a great source of pride to hold an old name."
"Sir is correct," Musa said. "What variety of assistance is sir in need of?"
"Merely a piece of information," Gellic said. "I seek a woman with spirals in her eyes, taken by forces unknown from the Great Road. Did she pass this place?"
"That is no small piece of information," Musa said.
"I have little to offer, friend, but what I have I will give."
"Sir has nothing of use to a mouse of the field," Musa said. "And if I had the information sir asks, it would take all the bread ever made by Man to convice me to part with it."
"What do you fear, Musa?" Gellic said. "The Baboons? I offer you my protection against Babi Hezur."
"Sir will be lucky to protect himself," the mouse said. "Nor could sir protect my family, nor would the mice of the field be happier if they were ruled by Men instead of Baboons."
"I see," Gellic said, breaking off another piece of hardrusk. "Thank you, 796^th Musa. Take this for your troubles."
Musa took the hardrusk and nodded. "Sir is kind. Perhaps I might have something of use to sir."
"What is it? More information?"
"If I answer, will sir take me back along the road to my home, and give me as much of his bread as I can carry home to my family?"
"You have my word." Gellic dismounted and let Musa scurry into his cupped hands.
"Hold me to sir's ear," Musa said, "and I will tell sir something he may like to know."
Gellic raised the little mouse up to his ear. Musa looked anxiously around, and then whispered:
"The son and heir of Babi Hezur is no son, no kin of Baboon, but a Man who thinks he is Baboon."
"I see," Gellic said. "I am in your debt, friend Musa, 796^th of the name. Come, we will ride back to your home with all speed."

posted by Martin Marks at 8:42pm EST // comment? by:

 

In which I take a moment to gripe.

The frustrating thing is that I know what happens in all of these stories. Hell, I have the history of two universes sorted out from Creation up to the year 3102. (My timeline, which is currently a 91 kilobyte file, only shows the half of it.) I can talk all day about Mathurian creation mythology or the infamy of the Baron de Marigny or the geography of Toliman I or the lost writings of Fuiler Bás. I can tell you all the subtle connections—how Caitlin Bryce connects to Ellie Peters, or Tisha Conway to Peter Caro, or Sam Key to the Apella project, or Necessary Consequence to Zhuwusye, or Galileo City to the Mnemon Bureau. I just don't seem to be able to get there one word at a time.

Sometimes I worry that my greatest achievement as a writer will turn out to be the Eleventh Volume itself—which is to say, my notes rather than my writings. The Eleventh Volume is, of course, inspired by Jorge Luis Borges, who I've always felt had the right idea. When he had a brilliant idea, rather than trying to write the story, he would often pretend someone else already had, and write a review of the fictional story. It's genius! Maybe I would be better off if I stopped trying to write stories and instead focused on describing the world they exist in. After all, the Eleventh Volume is all Creative Commonsed, so in theory someone else could come along someday and actually write the stories. Or maybe I should stop whining and figure out how I'm going to introduce the manticores into my untitled fairytale. (BELATED SPOILER WARNING)

posted by Martin Marks at 10:17pm EST // one comment by:

• Julia

 

Not sure I like this scene.

After many days hard riding, Kellic found the trees around him growing thicker and thicker and the path growing narrower and narrower. It was the duty of the forest beasts to keep the Great Roads clear; obviously they felt that obeying the letter of the law would suffice. The nights were almost as dark as the belly of a cave, and the days were little brighter. What light there was forced through a filter of green, lending everything an unearthly tinge and an aura of menace. Because of that, it was Kellic's sharp ears, not his eyes, that finally made him realize he was being followed. He stopped and turned.
"Greetings, friend!" Kellic cried. "I am Kellic, Prince of Men. Will you come forth and speak with me?"
The massive black raven flew out of the darkness and into plain sight, landing on a stout branch ahead of Kellic.
"Your ears are sharp, Prince of Men," he said. "It only took you three days to notice me."
"What is your name, raven?"
"Forgive me," the raven said. "You may call me Cigfran—though whether that is my name I leave it to you to guess."
"I thank you, Cigfran," Kellic said. "May I ask why you were following me?"
"Perhaps I was following you because killing you would be too much work," Cigfran replied.
"Why should you wish to kill me? I have given you no provocation that I know of."
"Provocation?" Cigfran said. "You have no feathers and walk on two legs—what more provocation do I need?"
"Is you distaste for men so strong that you would murder one travelling the Great Road?"
"I have already told you I would not kill you," Cigfran said. "It would involve a lot of effort and I would get nothing of use but your lean flesh and that hardrusk you've been gnawing on."
"And so you chose to follow me instead," Kellic said. "Following me involves a good deal of effort, and doesn't even yield hardrusk—what use do you get of it?"
"There are those who like to know when men walk this road," Cigfran said. "That makes it worth my while to find out."
"Who else has walked this road recently?" Kellic asked. "A delegation of Easterners, perhaps? A woman with spirals in her eyes?"
Cigfran laughed. "And what would I get for this information? Hardrusk?"
"A note with my seal will get you the greatest feast of your life in my kingdom. Your pick of our finest livestock, Cigfran, freshly slaughtered and still warm."
"Do you take me for some toadying jackdaw? Ravens do not work for men. And if a raven did work for men, he would not survive to claim his payment."
"I see," Kellic said. "Well, if you refuse to tell me about the Princess Naruto, I'll have to continue my search without your help. You can keep following me if you like."
"Are you a poor shot with that handbow of yours, Prince of Men?" Cigfran asked.
"Not at all," Kellic said. "I've been trained in all forms of archery since I could hold a bow, and if I may say so am quite good at it."
"But you have yet to try and shoot me," the raven mused. "It's loaded and within reach. I'm only a few yards away. If you're as good as you say, you'd stand a slim chance of catching me by surprise and hitting me. So why hasn't your hand so much as twitched while we've been talking?"
"Why should I wish to kill you?" Kellic said, astonished. "I'd be violating the Great Road, attacking another without cause. You may let slip some piece of information about the Princess. I'd lose a perfectly good bolt if I missed. If nothing else, the ravens are powerful in this forest, and if word of your death got back to the Great Corbie—who I'm sure knows everything that happens in Lendod—I would be known as a raven-killer. That certainly wouldn't make me any new friends."
"You think a lot for a man, don't you?" Cigfran said. "And you respect the ancient peace of the roads. Not many still do."
"Whoever kidnapped Naruto didn't," Kellic said. "And if you respect the peace, Raven Cigfran, you have a duty to tell me who broke it if you know."
"Well, if it's my sacred duty, then I suppose I have to tell you," Cigfran said. "From what I hear, a man accompanying your princess's group broke the peace. Whoever it was who took her was completely within their rights."
"What? But what happened? The attacker must have been provoked."
"It seems that the creatures of the East don't think as much as you do before shooting at ravens," Cigfran said. "Good luck, Prince of Men."
And with that, the great bird flew off into the thick green and black of the trees.

posted by Martin Marks at 9:09pm EST // comment? by:

 

I have about three more days of this before I have to actually write something.

The Numen delegation came from the distant East, across the treacherous lands of Lendod. The King was eager to make an alliance with the Numina, as with their aid Babi Hezur and the other enemies of man would be outflanked. The princes, on the other hand, had eyes only for the mysterious Princess Naruto. They had little to say to her, as she couldn't speak their language any more than they could speak hers, but they were happy enough to spend hours staring into the strange black-and-gold spirals in her eyes. The King noticed this, and saw a chance to solve all his problems at once; within days, Gellic and Naruto were betrothed. This sealed the alliance, assured that the kingdom would have a Queen, and, best of all, put a look in Kellic's eye that the King had been been trying to cultivate for years: jealousy.

A week after Naruto and her entourage left for home, news came from the Aleph of the Jackdaws, one of man's few allies in the wild. Naruto had been captured by forces unknown.
"My treaty!" thought the King.
"My Naruto!" thought the twins.
And so a great search was launched. The King assembled an army to march into Lendod, while Gellic and Kellic rode ahead at a gallop. Just past the kingdom's border, the princes came to a fork in the Great Road. Gellic called to a pair of jackdaws in a nearby tree, who flew over and each perched on a prince's shoulder.
"Good morrow, friends. I hope your nest and your bellies are full." Gellic said, knowing the importance the corvids place on politeness. "We are the Princes Gellic and Kellic."
"Good day, Princes of Men," the male said. "I am Denom, my mate is Dula. What do you seek in such a hurry?"
"We seek the Princess Naruto of the Numina," Kellic replied. "Do you know which way she went?"
"I fear not," said Dula. "We are allies of Men, and dare not enter Lendod; we must rely on gossip from our larger cousins, who tell us nothing these days."
"Where do these roads go?" Gellic asked.
"Ride left and you will find the dark forests of the north," Denom said. "Ride right and you will find the broad steppes of the south. Neither is safe for jackdaws or for men."
"Or for my Naruto," Gellic said. "Very well. We thank you for your help."
"We would be happy to share a meal with you for your time," Kellic added. "I'm afraid we have only hardrusk and the like, but what we have is yours."
"We thank you," Denom said, "but richer food is easy enough to find so close to your city."
"And whichever way you go, you will need your provisions," Dula said. "We wish you luck, Princes of Men."
They flew off into the trees.
"We shall ride south, then," Gellic said. "There can be no doubt that Babi Hezur is behind this."
"We have no evidence of that," Kellic said. "The weasels are as dangerous as the baboons these days. I say we ride north."
"Very well," Gellic said, "ride north if you like. I will go south."
The two brothers shook hands, as there was little other embrace they could make while on horseback, and without another word rode off in opposite directions.

posted by Martin Marks at 4:54pm EST // comment? by:

 

On second thought...

Scratch that. I owe you content, and I'll give you content. I didn't write it today, but that was never part of the bargain. Maybe by starting to serialize it here, I'll be able to continue it. You've seen the untitled cyberpunk, now for the untitled fairytale:

The greatest sadness of the King of Men was found in his children.
The good-hearted twin princes Gellic and Kellic were the delight of the entire nation, but they were also the delight of those who would destroy the nation, for they lacked the ruthless cunning that had allowed the Kings of Men to maintain their throne for so long. They had been trained in combat and in tactics, yes, but to the King's despair had yet to put this military education into practice. When Gellic, the elder of the two by minutes and thus heir to the throne, was put in charge of dealing with some disobedient mine workers in the southern hills, he responded not by killing the ringleaders and burning the miners' homes as any good King would do, but by meeting with them and compromising, even going so far as to cut the miners' hours and increase their rations. The King shuddered to think what would happen when Gellic took the throne and every layabout in the nation began demanding such treatment.
"But Father," Kellic had said, "the miners are happier and healthier now, and production has actually increased."
Ah, and Kellic... what could be done about Kellic? The King had long since given up hope that Kellic's unswerving loyalty to his brother was a front; it seemed, against all logic, that Kellic had no intention at all of killing his twin brother to take the crown as his own. The King had tried lavishing favors on Gellic while ignoring Kellic; in the end it was Gellic who had complained about the unequal treatment, while Kellic smiled and said nothing.
There was once a third Prince of Men, a true son with a kingly heart who would have surely overthrown his weak elder brothers once he came of age and brought peace to the kingdom. But Prince Nollog was gone, taken from the King forever by the black magic of Babi Hezur.

posted by Martin Marks at 8:34pm EST // three comments by:

• Neil
• Tanya
• Martin

 

I did make it the first week, which is more than I expected.

I got nothing for you today. No editing. No good excuse. Ah well.

posted by Martin Marks at 8:29pm EST // comment? by:

 

Still excusing.

More editing today. Trying to get through the boring formatting and punctuationey part first—squiggly things are not a strong suit of my father's—then over the weekend I'll start working on content. I have great quantities of thinking to do regarding the ending.

posted by Martin Marks at 9:22pm EST // comment? by:

 

And now, an excuse.

Tonight, I'm editing one of my father's screenplays, The English Crew. Dad describes it as "My Fair Lady meets Reservoir Dogs", which is surprisingly accurate.

In preparation for this arduous task, so far this week I have watched Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels, Snatch, and The Italian Job. I take my editing seriously.

posted by Martin Marks at 7:42pm EST // comment? by:

 

It's slow going, but it's words.

What I'm about to tell you is one of the best-kept and most shameful secrets of the Augment Age.

As amazing as cogaugs are, many researchers saw them as a disappointment in practice. They had envisioned a seamless connection between man and machine, but even the most advanced users perform little better than unaugmented humans skilled with traditional interfaces. Even today, the best stenographers still write faster than augmenteds—hundred and fifty year old technology, beating out bleeding edge neuroprosthetics. The problem is not in the machines, but in the users; people just don't bond with their augments the way the scientists dreamed they would. So the scientists started looking for better users.

The brains of human children have perhaps the most astonishing balance between power and flexibility of any in the animal kingdom. Remove half an adult brain and they will be invalids for life; remove half a child's brain and the other half will take over its function. By the late 2030s, cogaug developers were already beginning to speculate that a child's brain might be flexible enough to add to its capabilities as well. Then in 2042, the European Medical Association announced that recent "primate research" had proven that prepubescent brains were not capable of integrating with augments. What they neglected to mention was which primates were being researched.

posted by Martin Marks at 10:15pm EST // three comments by:

• Fafner
• Tania
• Martin