Author Archives: Christina M. Grey

Organize me in Uncategories

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When an artist tries to make an album full of songs of different genres, it very rarely works for me. Only a few extremely talented musicians can pull off a crossover of any kind, much less 10 crossovers on one album. So why do I want writers to mix genres and blend styles? And why do I keep posting anything I feel like posting on here? Shouldn’t they stick to what they do best? And shouldn’t I be targeting a specific audience?

If I’m consigned to stay within the lines and only drive in one lane for the rest of my life, my boredom might blind me into snoring through the light.

“Some people like the flash. Some people like the hash. But I love art. And I make it out of trash.”

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“Some people like the money. Some people like the honey. But I love art. Some people like the flash. Some people like the hash. But I love art. And I make it out of trash. Some say it has no class.” -Isaiah Zagar, Philadelphia’s Magic Gardens

Mystery Science Masterpiece Theatre – Review of This Brilliant Darkness

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This Brilliant Darkness by Red Tash

The way the author weaves fantasy, humor, science fiction, and mystery is, for lack of a better word, brilliant. I read the entire thing with admiration/envy, taking notes and thinking ‘THIS is how you write a novel.’ The religious themes and sexual undertones combine to make an intellectually stimulating joyride. It reminded me of Lorrie Moore (sarcastic, clever) meets Dan Brown (can’t put it down, fast paced), but much more poetic. There were layers upon layers of symbols and ideas, but even if you only skimmed the surface, it was a highly entertaining read.

I particularly enjoyed the one-line poems/pop culture nods throughout the chapter titles, ranging from the Pixies, to Harry Potter, to the Hindenburg disaster. I also loved how realistically the characters were portrayed; the dialogue felt like I was hanging out with my friends, goofy, relaxed, and straight forward (My friends are smart and hilarious; YMMV). The best parts of TBD were the touches of modern life scattered throughout the story. Remember when Scream blew the horror world away by actually using technology in a realistic way? Well here’s blogging and online forums and long distance cyber friendships, honestly depicting the way we live in the 21st century.

There’s some heavy Biblical symbolism, but it never felt overtly Christian. There’s also a lot of parallels to science fiction, but I wouldn’t call it sci-fi, either. I’m an atheist, but I was a little touched by the subtle way in which the author plants these seeds of faith and doubt simultaneously. Science and Magic and Jesus, together? Absurd! But perfect, if you think about it.

My biggest criticism is that I don’t think the cover does it justice (but does any cover, ever, really?). TBD is a modern, intelligent, thrilling masterpiece. I can’t wait to see what else Tash does.

Sam I am what I yam

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I recently read a blog post by a non-reader who admitted he didn’t like reading and then gave several reasons why. After I read it, I didn’t feel at all defensive, but sympathetic instead. I often have trouble reading and sometimes it takes me 10 reads before I comprehend a single page. I also often just don’t care about what I’m reading, regardless of how well it’s written or how riveting others find it. Different strokes, of course.

At the end of the post, I felt challenged. And apparently, so did everyone else who read it, because they proceeded to give the author a list of books he should try. Even I tried to defend reading, by suggesting that it was writers’ fault for not making their work interesting enough (I don’t have ADD; they’re all just really boring). After several more attempts by commenters, I began to feel like I was reading Green Eggs and Ham (I do not like them by Orwell. I do not like books, can’t you tell?).

So I got to thinking about my own taste as a reader. Most of the time I do find it difficult to get into a book/story, but I don’t think that makes me a non-reader, because there are (albeit, rare) other times when I love them. The real question here is: what does this mean for my future as a writer? Can you imagine a producer who hates most music or a painter who hates most visions? Eek! This could be a really bad sign.

But here’s the thing: I write the way I like to read. Sure, maybe not everyone likes to read the same stuff I do, but if I can entertain my disinterested self, then maybe there’s a shot I can entertain someone else. Basically what I’m saying is that I’m a hard sell, so if I’m selling it, it better be damn good. This brings me back to challenged. When I begin writing, I assume that the reader doesn’t care, and it’s my job to make them. Maybe that’s demonstrative of the downfall of our society, or maybe it just means I’d rather be interesting than right. Either way, I yam what I yam and I like what I like.

Interview

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Ellis Jackson interviewed me on his blog. I wanted to come off as level-headed and realistic. Overall, I think I nailed it:

“I assumed my book would change literature and revive mass interest in poetry. It would be the first eBook of contemporary poetry to go viral. Critics would argue about its place in the “Best New” and “Worst Ever” lists, but everyone would agree that it was a huge step for modern poetry.”

Damn Girl You Thick: Wonder Woman

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I'm famous!

I laughed so hard when I saw this stencil last month. But then I stopped laughing and wondered how closely I resemble it. Then I wondered how many average women think they resemble it and how many women who actually do resemble it think they look average.

Now I wonder what the average is and how it’s figured. I wonder how many women would think I’m a bad person for laughing at it and how many women would think she’s a bad person for being fat. I wonder if I ever really think or if I only wonder about what others think. I wonder if there’s a difference. Call me Wonder Woman.

[See what happens when I stop reading the news. What is this, Day 2?]

When Dramamine Isn’t Enough

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Reasons I need a break from reality/Causes of my mental breakdown: Fullerton cops, Jasper dragging, Cheshire trial, cannibal woman, Troy Davis’ death, GOP debates, the bleakconomy, bullies, veterans, those Humane Society commercials…

Sometimes I just can’t stomach the facts. I always return to search for them, though, like a crack whore escaping from rehab to find her abusive pimp/dealer. The truth breaks my heart and I keep coming back for more. But right now, if I don’t (further) quarantine myself for a little while, I’m going to end up crouched in a padded corner, rocking back and forth and singing “In the Still of the Night” with my eyes squeezed shut. Again. So I’m going to try to kick the habit, at least until I’m brave enough to relapse again. In the meantime, I’ll be writing and arting and blowing heart shaped bubbles.

Revel Revel, My Face Is a Mess

Posted by Christina M. Grey on

Books, Birds, What's the diff?

I make. I hate. I remake. I love. I hate. I remake. Ad infinitum.

I’ve finally reached a “love” point on that wheel. I may not be as great as the New York Times Bestselling Author, Snookie, but I made something awesome and I’m totally proud of it. I get these brief waves of astonishment that I did it and it’s done. Then these deep ripples of honor when I hear that others like it. I’m sure it won’t last long before I return to self-doubt and insecurity, but while it does I’m going to revel in it. !!!!

Physicality

Posted by Christina M. Grey on

The Hole Between Mine and Yours is now available as a paperback on Amazon!

This was a long and loopy process and I’m so excited for everyone else to see the final product.

Please read responsibly.

P.S. For a limited time, The Hole Between Mine and Yours is available in Amazon’s 4-for-3 promotion, which includes Books, Single Copy Magazines, and Home & Garden items. Buy any 4 eligible items, get the lowest-priced item free.

Review of “The Restoration Man”

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The strongest writing is like the male half of a dancing duo: his job is to display the female. The writing’s job is to display the content, without calling attention to itself. In “The Restoration Man,” Simon John Cox does this with subtle precision and evocative imagery.

He composes sentences that flow so well they disguise the skill with which they were crafted. Every clause, every syllable, is placed so purposefully that the brain floats through the narrative uninterrupted by a shade of doubt, oblivious to the emotional osmosis that occurs between the lines.

And does it ever occur. Call me cold-hearted, but I’m not often “moved” by the weak attempts at poignancy that litter contemporary literature. But this story is not a weak attempt; it is a powerful success. This guy has got it.

The mood reminded me a little of Morvern Callar (novel by Alan Ramsey), although I’m not sure exactly why. Maybe because the way it was written was in such contrast to the main character? Maybe not…

Anyway, I liked it. Check it out.

“The Restoration Man” – Simon John Cox – Amazon $.99

Hi, I’d like to introduce myselves…

Posted by Christina M. Grey on

After spending the entire day fighting with my alter egos, Narcissus and Eeyore, I was ready to give up on writing a bio.

I flew through paragraphs of self-righteous, conceited, and delusional descriptions of myself before peddling back into self-loathing and disgust at my inflated self-image. I then hopped from one persona to the other, for several hours, trying to reconcile my confidence with true perspective (If you think you’re a good writer, you haven’t read enough). This microscopic reflection of my entire life exhausted any strong feelings I had in either direction and forced me to tell the truth instead:

Christina M. Grey is an alien princess from the planet of unEe-chiview. After losing a bet with her stepmother, Audrioles, she was banished to this galaxy to inhabit the body of an Earthling female. This cruel punishment for questioning the wisdom of her queen has been the setting for a trove of adventures, ironically, in curiosity.

Because she was born into the Royal Family of ickZelms, Her Highness is often perplexed and devastated by the lack of worship she receives from friends and lovers on Earth (and hilarity ensues). She uses these fantastic expectations and their inevitable consequences as material for her musical writing, which she offers as prayers to the gods, Truth and Sound, of her native universe, in hopes of being blessed with other members of a species like her own.

The princess crafts her thoughtful poetry from observations as a stranger on this planet and interactions with its inhabitants, confessing dismay and confusion, longing and frustration, delusions of grandeur, and the innate happiness of an eccentric soul in a hostile environment. The sensuous nature of her poems arises from extended periods of isolation, subsequent hypersensitivity to light, and sociopathic desire.

Her Majesty enjoys drinking carrot juice and dancing alone. She also enjoys silence, where she can be reborn. She dreams of one day building the perfect swing set for adults. She questions every moment, but forgets the answers past.

I’m still so green (around the gills?)

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I am spinning. I think if I weren’t, I would nauseate myself. Husky Rescue keeps playing in my head, just this one part of a New Light of Tomorrow remix, but it might be the dehumidifier. I keep getting these twinges that turn into attacks of self-loathing and cynicism. I know it’s too early, but I can see the future. It’s a loop of the past week if I decide to stick this out. Do I really want misanthropy in doses even greater? Should I coyly play pretend I’m not offended by each traitor?

But then… why the hell am I offended? They’re just vengeful for my absence. They’re the ones that I abandoned when I couldn’t care less what happened. They don’t like the girl I am because I made her far from them. Their disdain is bittersweet but it’s not me who has to eat it.

I’ve no hatred left to spare; I spent it all on rites of passage. While they root for my despair, I must recall: they are the masses.

And the rest who break my heart, I will assume they have their reasons. I respect them all so much that it’s myself I’ll charge with treason.

So is life.

Posted by Christina M. Grey on

“Aren’t those just a waste of paper nowadays? Isn’t that just extra pollution?” she responded when I said I still subscribed to some “real” (versus internet) magazines.

My first problem with her reply: I’m not really sure that any energy we use in America is all that “clean” or “guilt free”. I think we should be limiting our consumption in more ways than our paper trails, because coal is not without its faults.

My second problem: So is life. This is all just one big waste of energy, without purpose or meaning or use, so should we all just kill ourselves? You decide which ways you most like to waste your energy and then you try to enjoy the destructive process that is time.

We should do our best to decrease. For some people, that means getting rid of the subscriptions to magazines they do not love; but for others, those magazines are the equivalent to an iphone or television set: sure, we could live without them, but they are farther up our lists than many items at the top of someone else’s. Everybody’s list is different, and until we are fighting for food and water, let’s be conscious of our glass houses.

All consumption is sin. “Morality” means being aware of that and striving to do better than is presently done. So stfu and get off my Juxtapoz.

Self-Deprecation on Hiatus

Posted by Christina M. Grey on

I just published my first book. I realize that the hardest part of being a writer is what comes now: marketing. I’m not a salesperson. I’ve never liked trying to sell. I’ve always believed that if something is worth buying, people will buy it. I know that is not true, especially when it comes to writing, but I have an innate distaste for the whole process of things being sold. If the product is so great, why do you have to come to my door to sell it when millions of other products are flying off the shelves (virtual and otherwise) all by themselves? The very notion of a salesperson seems contradictory to me.

I wrote a good book. I wrote a book that I would enjoy reading. Because I am a new writer, I priced it well under its worth at $.99 (for 55 poems). I told my friends and family when it was released and I asked a few of them for their criticism. I understand that this is only the beginning of a long process, but I am uncomfortable with the tasks that lie ahead. I want to be working on my next book. I want to use my energy toward creativity, not capitalism.

But I guess this is growing up, and although the process of self-promotion is more apparent in a writer’s career, it is not absent from others. We are all selling ourselves to someone or something, whether for money or otherwise. And frankly, if I have to sell a product, myself is a damn good one. So here goes. (“Now How Much Would You Pay?!”)

The Hole Between Mine and Yours: Liquid Logic from a Dirty Tumbler is now available at Barnes and Noble.com (for the nook or free nook reading apps for computers and devices) and on Amazon.com (for the Kindle or free Kindle reader apps).

This is a collection of 55 poems, none of which will remind you of literature class. It’s reminiscent of the beat generation, with heavy focus on emotion and sound instead of landscapes and secret codes (although, a watchful eye might find some hidden messages). My work is more Seussian than most contemporary literature and more fun than most historic literature. I write the way I like to read. I hope you like it too.

It’s only $.99. Treat yourself.

… seriously, it’s fun. and it’s damn good.

The Hole Between Mine and Yours: Liquid Logic from a Dirty Tumbler – Barnes and Noble $.99

The Hole Between Mine and Yours: Liquid Logic from a Dirty Tumbler – Amazon $.99

Now I’m going to scrub my skin with a brillo pad.

oooh THIS is what anxiety is???

Posted by Christina M. Grey on

I’ve suddenly developed a nauseating fear of being dead. I don’t wanna end. Guess I’ll have to start believing in a god now.