Blarg!

Bill's blog. Writing, guitars, gratuitous Simpsons references, you'll find i​t all here. Almost certainly a waste of time for both you and the author. On the internet, that's actually a plus.

A needlessly long post about the upcoming football season written for people who don't care about football

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Football season starts tomorrow for my college team, the Nebraska Cornhuskers, and I'm pretty fired up about it. I hang out in geeky circles, and as you might expect, the Venn diagram for sci-fi/fantasy writers and football fans doesn't have much overlap (a notable exception is my friend Rich Matrunick, who is an excellent writer and ardent fan of the Steelers and Penn State). I don't begrudge them this -- you can't make people like what they don't like, I always say. I just don't get to talk football that much. So being a writer, I thought I'd write a little about it.

[Author's note: If you're a fan of football in general, or of Nebraska football in particular, I have nothing new for you. This is post is written for outsiders wondering how a scrawny, sensitive, bookish guy with no athletic ability ends up liking a sport for made for large, aggressive alpha males.]

Nebraska the team is a rally point for Nebraska the state. Nebraska fans tend to live in the past, most specifically the 1990s, when the Huskers were indisputably the best college football program in existence. We point with pride to facts that would be embarrassing to other states, like the fact that on game day, Memorial Stadium's 90,000 spectators make it the third-largest city in the state (though most teams are jealous of the fact that there hasn't been a single empty seat at Nebraska home games since the Kennedy administration).

Nebraska is unique in that there are no other major sports teams of any kind within the state, and outside of Lincoln or Omaha, there isn't a whole lot for kids to do. When I lived in Florida, you had fans of UF, Florida State, and Miami intermingling with each other and deflating each other's tires. In Nebraska, your conversational choices are commiserating over Husker football or long, awkward pauses. (Okay, you could talk about Iowa, I guess, but why?) Half of all flat surfaces in the state are painted Husker red. Living in North Carolina, I occasionally meet fellow Nebraskans, and the first thing we talk about -- whether they're a retired banker or a kid in a punk rock band -- is how the team looks this year, and to bemoan the team's play-calling (FYI, no football fan anywhere has ever been happy with their favorite team's play calling).

Some of my favorite memories are from when I was a kid watching Husker games at my Grandma's house in Homer, Nebraska (population 500 or so). We'd gather around one of those boxy wooden TV sets that weighed a hundred pounds and had a seventeen-inch screen. My wife Jen still brings up the time I took her to meet my grandmother. Grandma had prepared us a picnic feast, and over pimento-loaf sandwiches and potato salad she grilled me over whether new coach Bill Callahan's west coast offense was strategically on-par with Nebraska's traditional option-based running attack. Grandma did everything but bring out a chalkboard and start diagramming plays.

I wanted to share a couple things with my non-sporting friends to show part of why I enjoy the game. I'm not trying to convert anybody, but rather show that football (and football culture, which even I will admit can be obnoxious), for all its seriousness, still has some genuine fun left in it.

Nebraska coach and noted hothead Bo Pelini plays a prank on the team before giving them a night off at the movies.  Payoff comes at 2:28.

Seven-year-old cancer patient and huge Husker fan Jack Hoffman runs for a touchdown in the Nebraska spring intrasquad game. My favorite part: The band plays Hail Varsity when he scores, and six points are added to the scoreboard. Little Jack's touchdown counts , people.

Probably Nebraska's most impressive play of the year, which sadly came during what was definitely its worst game of the year.

Let Bill Ferris create your pen name

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As you know, I recently wrote a column on creating your perfect pen name. I've got some extra author aliases lying around that are free to a good home. All of them are focus-grouped and tested for maximum marketability and book sales-ness. 
  • Archibald Sneak
  • Rachel Staircase 
  • Caroline Vesuvius
  • Smith Woodright
  • Dashiell Hardcase
  • Christine Quisp
  • Keith Von Keith
  • Brooke Las Cruces
  • Lloyd Llarson
  • Pythagoras Steamship
  • Steven Kiing
  • Dan Browne
  • J.K. Rotfl
  • Tyler Linkedin
  • Freddie Facebook
  • Thomas Alva Tutone
  • Basil Worcestershire
  • Ndamukong McCoy
  • Mike McMack
  • Gladys Gnite
  • Sara Consonant
  • Daphne Punq
  • Johnny Vegas
  • Johnny Carlot
  • Johnny Steakhouse
  • Johnny Horserace
  • Jonathan Rugby

How to create your perfect pen name: My new Writer Unboxed column

photo by Amy Strachan

photo by Amy Strachan

I've got a new coumn up at Writer Unboxed dedicated to helping you come up with the ideal pen name to launch your writing career. Behold, an excerpt:

Quick, what’s the first name of your protagonist’s favorite singer? What’s the first initial of your least-favorite Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle? Now tell me your favorite brand of liquor. For me, Robert Plant plus Raphael plus Kraken rum gives me Robert R. Kraken — I’ve already harangued my parents for not giving me this name. You’re on the right track if you end up with something like John D. Morgan or Nico R. Dubonnet. If you come up with Ke$ha L. Ron Rico, please stop writing, because you have terrible taste in everything. 

You can read the whole thing here. And check out some of my other columns while you're there.

How to Create Your Perfect Pen Name at Writer Unboxed

How to be an author 24-7: My new column at Writer Unboxed

Want to be a pro writer? My new column at Writer Unboxed shows you how to turn a fun hobby into a pro-level cycle of toil & anguish. Here's a quick excerpt:

You’re home from work (you listened to an audiobook during your commute, didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU?!). Dinner with the fam is the ideal time to focus-group plot points and character sketches. Also make sure to ask your family how their day was. These conversations pay big dividends in writing material, like the literary equivalent of hilltop-removal mining. Your spouse and children will come to know the phrase, “That’s so great, I’m totally putting it into my book!” as the response that is most akin to the emotion they call “love.” 

How to be an author 24-7 at Writer Unboxed 

It's hard being so amazing - or - When did superheroes get so whiny?

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I saw Man of Steel  a few weeks ago, and despite enjoying it, I like it less and less the more I think about it. Don't get me wrong, it had many cool touches. Good fight scenes. The Kryptonian tech seemed genuinely alien. The iconic "S" emblem was a symbol of hope instead of a galactic coincidence of two distant planets having the same alphabet. I even liked the stuff Superman purists hated [spoilery, so highlight to read]. I had no problem with Superman killing Zod. Yeah, I know, Superman doesn't kill. But what was he supposed to do? Take him to the county jail? Superman's options were to either kill him or hope he could keep a super-powered, genocidal maniac in a headlock for the next thirty years.

So why can't I think about Man of Steel without gnashing my teeth? Didn't it give people the always-appealing tale of an outcast overcoming doubters to do something remarkable and gain acceptance?

It did, and that's the problem.

Superman is not a plucky overachiever. He's not an underdog in any sense of the word. That's the whole hook to being Superman. But Zach Snyder would have us believe there's no greater burden than secretly being a living god walking amongst mortals. Like Dances With Wolves tells young Clark, "Son, if the world finds out you're the most gifted person to walk the earth since Jesus Christ, they'll reject you. Not in any way that could actually hurt you, of course. I'm talking about feels here." Or something--I dunno, I don't have a copy of the script handy.  

For many superheroes, their biggest problem is they're JUST SO AMAZING that nobody likes them. Take the public's fear of mutants out of X-Men and Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters may as well be Degrassi. J. Jonah Jameson uses a major metropolitan newspaper to conduct his personal flame-war against Spider-Man. Harry Potter's aunt and uncle are so afraid of his superior abilities, they store him under the stairs like a damn kitchen mop. (And yes, Harry Potter is a superhero. He flies around wearing a cape, using magical powers to save the world from evil. How is he not  a superhero?)

You thought Lex Luthor and Galactus were tough? Today's superheroes have to deal with haters, and you sure attract a lot of them when you're single-handedly striking down the forces of chaos. Maybe that's why Superman's so courageous in the face of evil--because when you've spent your whole life coping with DIRTY LOOKS from people who pose no threat to you, fighting an extraterrestrial psychopath bent on exterminating the human race feels like the slow-pitch machine at the batting cage, amirite?

Why do we accept this nonsense? I think it's because it reinforces what we'd all like to believe about ourselves: People don't understand me because I'm too awesome.  Have no friends and can't get a date? It's 'cause people can't handle how real I am! Nobody wants to publish my novel? Well, I guess my work is too edgy for the establishment! Superheroes are the ultimate in wish-fulfillment--not only can they do amazing things to spite our enemies, but they also absolve us from having to confront our own shortcomings. It sure beats having to learn social skills or dedicate years to practicing one's craft.

All this superhero angst is like the Powerball winner who complains about how much the IRS takes out of his winnings. As if he wasn't still filthy-freaking rich after taxes. As if he'd earned that money. In fact, the modern superhero story is pretty much about winning the lottery--some dude in a lab coat is messing with a science thingy-doo just as a squirrel accidentally triggers the transmorpho ray. Then BLAMMO! Suddenly Mr. Lab Coat can spring from tree to tree and cram sixty-five walnuts into his mouth. Like the lottery winner, he didn't achieve this via effort or skill, it was all dumb luck. And now that he can do these wonderful things, he's sad because he's ostracized by the very people he's trying to protect. O Fortuna!

"Oh yeah?!" argues a straw man that wandered by. "If people don't tear down exceptional people, then how come I got picked on in school for being on the Mathletes? Being subject to ridicule shows that even though superheroes have fantastic powers, they're really just like us." Sadly, playground culture (and a depressing amount of adult culture) doesn't value academic achievement as much as it should. But if there's one thing our culture does value, it's athletic prowess. Faster than a speeding bullet? Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound? These are feats of athleticism, and a big reason why the superheroes-as-mistreated-nerds trope is ridiculous. If Superman really existed, he'd have much more in common with LeBron James than any of us, and all he can do is dunk a basketball.

"But I hate LeBron!" the straw man says (quite correctly). Yeah, a lot of people do. The thing is, he's so talented that he's still one of the most popular athletes in the world. How much patience would you have if that guy complained that people don't like him? You'd hate him even more for it. But Lazer Woman feels blue about the mean folks who are jealous of her powers? Well, Ms. Lazer, grab a chair and tell me about your troubles while I heat up some cocoa.

Being a superhero isn't all flowers and sunshine, of course. It's also not mandatory. If super powers are that much of a burden, then go get a real job. Want to save the world? Join the Army or the Peace Corps. At the end of they day, superheroes can still do things mere mortals can only dream of doing. If they don't like it, they're not getting any sympathy from me.

"Suicide Chef" and "P is for PWNED" to appear on Tales to Terrify

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Tales to Terrify will publish audio versions of two of my short stories, "Suicide Chef" and "P is for PWNED." If you're not already a listener, Tales to Terrify is a sister podcast of the Hugo-award winning Starship Sofa.

"Suicide Chef" was originally published in issue 7 of Opium Magazine. A chef finds a way to save his struggling restaurant, but with deadly consequences. It was my first-ever fiction publication, so I'm really excited to reintroduce people to it. It'll be my first audio narration, too, so I hope you enjoy it.

"P is for PWNED" is a new one--it's a detective story about Charles Moncrief, a geriatric, hard-boiled private eye who's hired to crack the case of a kid who killed himself over losing a video game. To solve it, he'll have to overcome his estranged daughter, the ravages of old age, and his complete ignorance of computer technology.

They'll be on different episodes, and I'll let you know the release dates as soon as I have them.