Matthew Woodring Stover's Blog, page 3

It's the smoke from my brain.

I think it's time to pack it in for the evening.

An honest-to-God American hero, Richard Winters, passed away last night at the age of 92.

You might know him from his portrayal by Damien Lewis as Lieutenant, later Major, Dick Winters, commander of Easy Company in the greatest war movie ever made, Band of Brothers. That's where I learned who he was, and I'm grateful for it.

(No crap from anybody about it being a TV show. It was an epic 10-hour masterpiece. You don't have to agree, but this isn't about the movie.)

The concluding paragraph from the New York Time obituary captures part of why I admired him so much:

"The cohesion that existed in the company was hardly the result of my leadership," he wrote in "Beyond Band of Brothers," his 2006 memoir. "The company belonged to the men, the officers were merely the caretakers."

Richard Winters 1918 — 2010

Thanks, man. Get some rest.

It's been kind of cool to wake up this morning and find everything more-or-less as I left it.

Huh.

How about that?

Yes, I did just pull out the caps lock on your ass.

What overworld.tv Is Right Now:

My new partner — who occasionally posts here as Moe Moe — has discovered, within himself, a conviction of almost theological proportion that the only reason Caine isn't a world-wide superstar is that he hasn't been properly introduced.

Moe has put together an astonishingly gifted creative team to create and market a re-imagined Graphic Lit take on Caine's life and career. (Seriously — you should see the fucking art. Mindblowing.) The scripts, at least for now, are courtesy of Yr Obdnt Svnt MWS, and will be until this thing either expires or explodes.

We've got our ducks in a row (Throats on a chain? Asses in hot coals?) to do one (1 — yeah, that's right, I said ONE) awesome introductory issue. Given the talents of Our Team, I'm confident that it won't be the only issue.

To that end, Moe and Chris and Tony and TJ and JT and I are undertaking to provide a place for aficionados of All Things Caine to hang out, argue, and buy Caine-and-Overworld-related shit, to help us finance further issues and move Our Favorite Killer out into the mainstream.

Wait — I can see it now — the OverWorld version of The Brave and the Bold. A team-up title: Caine and Batman. Hell, Caine and the Punisher.

No, wait . . . Caine and Dexter.

You know you want it.

As the official pub date approaches . . . and it ain't all that far away . . . there will be posters. Wallpaper. T-shirts. Diapers and lunch boxes and I don't even know yet. The Official Caine Garrotting Belt, Complete with Double Loop Ends and Aircraft-Cable Core.

It's a work in progress. All of it. The site, the marketing campaign, the comic — err, graphic literature — we're figuring it out as we go along. Things may change without warning or notification of any kind. In fact, they will.

As Caine's dad might say, "The wise man does not plan. He steers."

Or as Moe's old pals might say, "We improvise. We adapt. We overcome."

Stay tuned.

First looks at a work in progress . . .

I realized this morning that I have been remiss in failing to recommend to all and sundry the following Mountain of Awesome:

Starting late last October, the New York Times has been running a (nearly) daily series of blog posts under the title Disunion.

These are essays by eminent historians and authors on the events of each same date in the United States as it was 150 years ago. Many of the entries read like news reports on the events leading up to the American Civil War; others take a broader look at how what happened on that date reflected the nation as it was in those days. All of them rely heavily upon what historians call "primary sources" — diaries, letters, news reports and photographs of people who were there and who did that.

Just this past week, Maj. Robert Anderson and his adjutant, Lt. Abner Doubleday (yeah, the inventor of baseball), brought their tiny force (less than six dozen soliders, but including many of their wives and families, including Mrs. Doubleday, and a brass band) from the indefensible sham that Fort Moultrie had become,  in a desperate night crossing under South Carolinian guns, to an unfinished-but-serviceable Federal fort on an island in the mouth of Charleston Harbor.

An editorial in the next day's Charleston Courier began with these ominous words: "Maj. Robert Anderson, U.S.A., has the unenviable distinction of opening civil war between American citizens by gross breach of faith."

Just this morning (January 1, 1861), the headline of the Wheeling Daily Intelligencer read as follows:

"A WARNING TO THE SECESSION TRAITORS IN OUR MIDST. Western Virginia will Secede from Eastern Virginia, if she Secedes from the Union."

If your political convictions forbid reading the New York Times, you can also join Disunion on Facebook.

Go forth.

Don't Ask Don't Tell: Repealed.

New START Treaty: Approved.

Health Care for 9/11 Responders: Passed.

That's a hell of a hat trick.

The Republic could use more days like this one.

I was pretty depressed about not getting the job. So I took down the Way of the Porcupine posts, just beause. Eventually I realized that nothing is ever truly gone from the Web, so what the fuck anyway.

Besides, I still might want to found the Huàn Dao Society of America.

I didn't get it.

Okay, this is weird.

As some of you probably recall, I've been day-jobless since August of 2009. While contributing to God of War and writing Test of Metal & His Father's Fist, I've been hunting for a day job that's actually worth doing for its own sake, as opposed to just a paycheck. I'm at the time of life where some people retire and take up a second career . . . and while I don't intend to retire, I have been looking for a second career.

I may have found one — and if I have, it will be at least partially attributable to huàn dao.

No, really.

I had gotten to the face-time point in the recruitment process. They brought me in to spend a day at their corporate headquarters (which is absolutely stunning, by the way — imagine a witty, gorgeously produced mash-up of Skywalker Ranch and Prof. Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters set on 500 acres of wooded rolling hills).

As part of the interview process, they wanted me to give a 10-minute presentation on a subject of my choice. As anyone who reads my books (or this site) can attest, ten minutes just isn't enough time to present my concepts of narrative structure, or the mechanics of tie-in fiction or pretty much anything else related to my writing life. So I was looking for something interesting that I could share in that brief slice of time.

My initial thought had been to give a presentation on Authority in Performance — three simple rules "to command attention, to establish trust, and to induce belief." I had it all mapped out, supported by quotes from Shakespeare to Abraham Lincoln, and I knew I could pull it off because, y'know, I yam what I yam.

Easy. Straightforward. And borrrrrring.

Ordinarily, I wouldn't worry about being boring — it was only ten minutes, and for ten minutes I can hold a crowd no matter what. But I really want this job. And I wanted to have a little fun, and make it fun for them.

So this was my presentation:

The funny thing is, I really do know the secret of huàn dao — and it's not because I made it up, either. By thinking about it seriously as a soft art, I discovered my Inner Grandmaster. Not only is huàn dao a real martial art, I can teach it — and save people's lives, or at least help them save their own.

I mean, I've been in the martial arts for more than 30 years now, and something about the Porcupine Way captures everything I know about self-defense in a nutshell. A snowflake. Well, something to do with nuts and flakes.

Remember Caine on fighting?

"Fights aren't about winning. Fights are about making the other guy leave you the fuck alone."

Porcupines don't have to be fast or smart or fierce at all. The predator knows just by looking at him that he should pick easier prey — and if the predator doesn't, its very first attack on the porcupine will persuasively demonstrate the truth.

This is the Porkie Mind Trick:

"I'm not the victim you're looking for. Move along."

– Obi-Wan Kenobi

Sort of.

Okay, not really.

To put it another way:

"The only fight you really win is the one that never happens."

– Grandmaster FatMatt Fu Wu-Wei

Or as another recognized authority on the subject might say:

"Being in a fight means you fucked up."

As I was giving the presentation (in a jocular tone not unlike the original Grandmaster post), it struck me that I know a lot about avoiding violence — and even more about surviving what can't be avoided — and that I can teach what I know. And that sharing this knowledge would be a positive good.

In fact, I promised my recruiter that if I get the job, I would not only share the principles and techniques of huàn dao with anyone and everyone who might express an interest, but I would establish and certify the very first Huàn Dao Society of America (Go PORKIES!) right there at the company's headquarters. And I am, if nothing else, a man of my word.

If this happens, I will be a very, very happy Porkie.

It also struck me during my presentation (the company is based in Wisconsin) that "huàn" can also be translated as "badger," which probably doesn't hurt.

This is on my mind today because their "week to ten days" timeline will be up Monday or Tuesday . . . and last Thursday, I got a note from one of my references that they called to chat about me.

I want this job.

And for those die-hard Cainists out there, it's worth noting that this position would relieve me of the necessities of writing for profit . . . which would mean I could go back to writing for fun (oh, and profit, but that's just gravy.)

This does mean, however, that the sale on black belts is canceled. Sorry.