Some More of God’s Greatest Mistakes: The Half-Year-In Revue


It’s post number 150, so there’s no better time to take stock of what’s been happening on the site during the first half of this year called two-thousand and eighteen. I’d say that so far this year has been one of experimentation, but I called this site “Scrapbook” specifically because I wanted to be able to write about anything I felt like so…every year since I started this endeavour has been a year of experimentation. Regardless, I’ve had a few new pursuits for the last little while, giving me the opportunity to write about a myriad of subjects I’ve never tackled before (like music) or haven’t done in some time (like in-depth book analyses.) Rather than putting all my attention into a single writing project, I’ve found time to veer off periodically, which has actually been a whole lot of fun, so I hope to continue doing that into the future.

Here’s another new type of writing I’d like to try: writing about my own writing. I guess you could call this an addendum to the first six months worth of posts, some additional thoughts on things I’ve already spilled too many words about:

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Ladies and gentlemen, please do not panic! But SCREAM! Scream for your lives!*



As is Youtube’s manner these days, a few weeks ago I had to sit through a movie trailer before getting to the video I was actually intending to watch—the trailer was for a film called The Meg, a particularly moronic-looking giant shark movie/Jason Statham time-waster. How it is in this day and age giant sharks in movies look less believable than they did forty years ago? It’s also always a good sign when a movie’s release is changed at the last minute to August; surely it is to make sure that everyone will have the opportunity to see such high-minded fare at the ass-end of summer vacation. Regardless, I could feel a twinge of wistfulness seeing the title of The Meg flash across the screen, because this specific giant shark movie is one I’ve been reading about for as long as I have had regular Internet access. A decade and a half later, and we’ve finally reached the point where they can release a dumb giant shark movie in the theatres.

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Love is Love


…Will you tell us about the other worlds out among the stars—the other kinds of men, the other lives?”

One realization I’ve had, which I think will motivate me to keep writing as long as I live, is that I will never be one-tenth, or one-hundredth (or more), of the writer Ursula K. Le Guin was—I will never be that intelligent, that humane, that poetic, that creative, that natural at utilizing the written word. She will remain that wonderful reminder of the endless potential of writing, whether it be science fiction writing or fantasy writing or critical writing or any sort of writing at all, and to always have that there to aspire to, even though I know I will never reach that pinnacle of the form, will keep me going, forever reminding me why I love all these things. I don’t think I would be as inspired and devoted to this art form if I hadn’t experienced her prose.

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I Gotta Get Outta Here: The Reads of 2017


I used to have a blog where I wrote thousand-word book reviews (you might have known that had you ever looked just to the right of these posts, but I bet you never have), but I hung up that hat after four-and-a-half years once it became a slog to keep finding a thousand words or more to say about absolutely everything I read, especially since after the first year or so I stopped coming up with any unique ways to write about them. You know what becomes more fun when you know you won’t have to write about it later? Reading. I thought graduation was supposed to free my brain from endlessly thinking about how I’ll respond to that stuff.

But you know, sometimes it’s fun to write about things you read. So here I am, back again, but in order to make it interesting, I decided to limit myself to one hundred words per book, so it won’t take you all day to read. If you find some that are not exactly one hundred words, please spare my reputation and do not reveal it to me or to the world. Also, if some of these sound vaguer than others, it’s because I read the book months ago and didn’t have it on hand to refresh my own thoughts. Now that no one can possibly criticize my criticism…

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“Hooray I scucceeded at winning the mission”: The Ten Essential Fan Fictions of Peter Chimaera

One could argue that we are currently mired in the age of fan fiction: that the cultural merchants working out of the big media conglomerates have given up all pretense of supplying us with fresh new visions and have instead become reliant entirely on taking other peoples’ ideas and rearranging them in such a way that they can pretend that they’re anything other than lukewarm leftovers. This comes after decades of fan fiction that was and is truly by and for fans, people who wrote about their favourite pre-existing characters and settings without any pretense of eventually changing all the names and selling it to a book publisher or being hired into some Hollywood brain trust, but entirely out of love and maybe some other more complex emotional reasons. Those sorts were exploring this charted territory for us, and the Internet age allowed them the kinds of exposure they never would have had in the zine and local convention era, taking fan fiction from the realm of the few to a mass audience.

Among the fan fiction authors in the last two or so decades of the Internet, there stands one out among the masses, one who took the form in thrilling, provocative, and strange new places: Peter Chimaera. First appearing in the heady days of 2003, Chimaera worked on a sporadic schedule, but in almost every instance gave us gold, the kinds of flash fiction reinterpretations of well-known franchises and stories (and even some less well-known ones)—video games, animation, comics, and even live action—that could be reread over and over again and provide new enjoyment and new insight every time. These are stories that defy the standard rules of writing, and especially of writing fan fiction, in order to deliver something with a unique, personal vision. There are recurring motifs throughout Chimaera’s oeuvre, where characters often face tragedy and loss; some are consumed by the abyss of violence and despair, while others overcome adversity and demonstrate the true tenacity of the human spirit. By putting these themes into the contexts of well-known series and characters, he makes it clear that these struggles are universal across all times and in all peoples, if you’re a superhero, a space marine, a warrior battling ancient evil, or even a bus driver.

Peter Chimaera, although still writing some fan fiction in more recent times, has seemingly moved on to selling more of his own original fiction, the obvious next step in a literary career. For us, though, his fan fiction tales will remain foremost in our hearts, and so today I have decided to rank what I think are the ten essential Peter Chimaera stories. Many of these have, in their times, become well-known among the denizens of the Internet, who have paid tribute to his works with live readings and even in song, so I’m sure everyone has their own personal favourites; I hope that my selections showcase the variety and the evolution of Chimaera as a writer, and the myriad of ways he has delighted readers for almost fifteen years.

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In The Meantime, Keep Your Profile Low*



This is the 100th post on Scrapbook Infinity, which may or may not be an achievement. Have I ever reached 100 posts on previous blogs? Almost certainly. But I feel like this pseudo-project has been especially fun for me for the past year-with-change, so doing something a little different for this occasion feels appropriate. Here, then, is something very different from what I have been tackling on this site since the beginning, and something I’ve pretty much avoided doing for the past several years: personal writing.

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