Archive for August, 2010

First person POV and metaphor

I want to read more first person narration from the POV of stumbling characters who try to speak in excellent metaphor or simile, but fail.

Her face was like a fat pig face, but with a lot of blonde hair on top.

That kind of thing provides excellent characterization.  It’s lovable writing.


Flashy new Sambas shredding cheddar

They are comfortable and just as stylish as they were in 1989 when I first bought a pair, that’s true.

This is also true: They have a razor sharp giant tongue that has reached over my tiny socks and is, as I type, cutting me, both sides, low down on my shin.

I remember this stupid tongue, only now.  I will soon be bleeding from my lower shins.

Generally, based mostly on their slick sheen, I am quite pleased.  I do wonder why I’m wearing the same shoe I wore during my first year at college during my first year of teaching college full-time.  Am I kidding myself?

New Sambas: a joke I play on me?

Twenty-two meatballs

This, I have eaten in the last hour.  They were fine meatballs, but now I’m concerned that I have some psychological malfunction, or perhaps biological misalignment, that would make it seem appropriate to eat twenty-two meatballs.

I bought two new pairs of pants today.  Have you ever noticed that Levi’s stores are dark and red?  They remind me of The County Seat at a small Milwaukee mall sometime in 1987.

These pants might never fit again, because I have lost all notion of proportion and appropriateness with regard to meatballs.

House Plants

I have never taken care of more than one plant at a time (one and a half, really — weird plant I forgot in the corner of old front room that went brown but wouldn’t die really should be partially included). Now I have five or six or seven, because I like the way they look in other people’s houses. Some days my plants look really good and healthy. I rejoice.  Other days they look droopy and ill. This does not seem to coincide in anyway with watering. It’s like they’re moody or they get tired. I shouted out in pain this morning when I saw my favorite plant drooping. This plant has twice been blown onto the floor by winds in the sunroom, but keeps on keeping on, until this morning. I don’t know why this morning.  There’s no cause I can think of.  I’m so confused, plant.

Sad Mr. Bender

Stupid Fast ATV

As the school year and the new job quickly approaches (my official duties really begin on Thursday here in Mankato — I will be sharing space with the Minnesota Vikings as they wrap up training camp, Favre-less II), I am also looking at wrapping work on my new book, Stupid Fast, which is about a very fast kid.  The publication on that is June of ’11 (Sourcebooks), which means edits are due to the copy editor in early October.   I read the manuscript for the first time in months over the course of the last week.  I have to say, I really like the thing.  This is the third novel I’ve written, and there a parts of the other two I detest, especially with Miracle Letters (the title, for instance).  I couldn’t find those parts with this one.  I’m hoping what’s happening here is learning — I’m learning to write good (that’s a bad damn joke, though).  In honor of that hope, I’m posting a picture of this 2005 Honda 400ex, which has been described as a Stupid Fast ATV.  Enjoy.

"Stupid Fast"

I am…

Geoff Herbach. I am the author of Stupid Fast and Nothing Special, among a bunch of other stuff. When I'm not writing, I teach writing at Minnesota State, Mankato.

Stupid Fast

Nothing Special

I’m With Stupid

Fat Boy (Gabe Johnson Takes Over)

PowderKeg Stage

Herbach's favorite store

My Bizzle

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