A Question of Timing

So, I'm not always great at guiding readers through the passage of time, but even I can tell that two months is plenty of time in which to both consult an attorney and enter a plea "quickly and expeditiously." I suspect the good senator has his lawyer on speed dial.

If you have to lie to yourself, sir, that's one thing. If you lie to me, though, you'll find I'm a somewhat more critical audience.

Writing Meme

Kelly started it, and while I'm feeling too busy to play, I'm also feeling like a bad mother to my blog, so here goes.

What do you find _______ about writing?

Hardest? Making sure the plot makes it to the surface of the story.

Easiest? Dialog and character tics.

Most fun? Breaking the rules, with malice aforethought, and making it work.

Most tedious? Submissions. I'd much rather just write, but I know I need to keep measuring myself against the higher standard to make myself improve.

Coolest? Discovering that maybe I did know how to do that after all. It's always nice when I hit the dreaded bit and just write right through it.

Least cool? Knowing that in some ways, I'm ten to fifteen years behind the trends in my genre.

Best? Being able to scratch that creative itch and know that what I made beats the hell out of any sticker-laden, ribbon-bound, specialty-sheared, cutesy, disposable scrapbook.

Worst? Never quite grasping what I'm reaching for.

Managing Your Writing Addiction

5. If you win big, enjoy! But remind yourself it will probably never happen again.

Oh, go read.

Why Harry Potter

What Rowling doesn't have going for her:

• >> Solid grasp of punctuation (grrrrrr)
• >> Strong pacing
• >> Economy
• >> Any idea that names precede character development
• >> Great originality

What she does:

• >> Poster child for "show, don't tell," sometimes ad nauseum
• >> Fundamental conflicts, both good v. evil and child v. adult
• >> Characters who are recognizable "types" but still all individuals with their own goals, preferences, habits and failings
• >> Deep understanding of the myriad ways in which people are cruel to each other
• >> Humor
• >> Eye and ear for mannerisms
• >> Main character who is the reader's stand-in for the introduction to all that is weird, wonderful and scary

Being a Writer

One of the standard pieces of advice for aspiring writers is to identify one's self as a writer, claim it as part of one's identity. I've always resisted doing that.

Part of my reaction is that I don't like being tied down to a single identity. It feels like being a butterfly pinned to a board, wings outspread, and labeled. Every one I've seen like that was dead. Not that being alive in that situation appeals any more. I've spent a good chunk of my life flitting from display case to display case, and I want to be able to do it again if warranted.

The other reason not to identify myself as a writer is that I'm pretty sure I could stop, unlike most writers I know. Why don't I? After all, writing is a vale of tears, self-torture, humiliation on demand, etc. ETC.

Yeah, right. This stuff is a hoot.

Where else in life do I get to make up as much nonsense as I like and persuade people to take it seriously? Where else can I march people around without worrying about hurt feelings and trampled rights? Where else can I funnel the creative urge, which makes me edgy and unsatisfied if not indulged, into something that has a shot making its way in the world? Where else can I stretch myself this much, learn and risk failure without real-world consequences?

And how much of that would change if I told myself I was a writer? How much more seriously would I have to take it if it were something I am instead of just something I do?

No thanks. I think I'll stretch my wings a bit longer on my own before I go looking for that pin.

Writing Thoughts

Wyrdsmiths are saying interesting things about writing humor. Lots of people with multiple perspectives.

And Eleanor Arnason is talking about why she doesn't kill characters. I'm with her on this one, but for different reasons. Too many times, killing a character feels like tacking on an artificial cost to the story. Yeah, I know, people die in real life. But characters rarely go to the bathroom in fiction because it doesn't serve any purpose in the story. If a death doesn't serve a story purpose that can't be served any other way, it feels artificial. I feel cheated.

Spoiler alert: If you haven't read War for the Oaks, well, why not? Go read it. The illustration will be stronger for it.

War for the Oaks is where I first noticed the problem. When Willie dies, it doesn't do anything that injuring him (making him less attractive, taking his ability to play) wouldn't do. In the process, it stops his story. And he was just getting interesting--in ways that maiming him could have amplified.

Phooey.

So if you're going to kill your characters, make it part of their story. Make sure it doesn't derail your own. Or just leave them alive. It isn't always the weaker choice.

Insomnia...

...is not my friend. But that doesn't stop it from hanging around hoping, no matter how sick or tired I am. I've tried ignoring it. Doesn't work. Damn thing can't take a hint. I think I'll try being mean next.

Wish me luck.

Oh, and for the record, I don't really hate the ice cream truck. I just wish it weren't audible four blocks away and didn't hang around our corner for fifteen minutes at a time...and didn't use a bad midi (not redundant) version of "La Cucaracha" to attract customers. Okay, maybe I do hate it a little.

WisCon Top 10 Moments

Because it wouldn't be a blog without lists.

10. Knowing that I traveled hundreds of miles to spend a weekend mostly with people who live less than 20 miles from me.

9. Being welcomed back by the bartender in the Governor's Club. He's ours and we're his, even if we only see him once a year.

8. Getting called for telling people things about themselves that are absolutely characteristic but never acknowledged, unique quirks that people don't necessarily love about themselves but that I find charming because, without them, this person wouldn't be the person I like. The phrase she used was, I think, "It sounds so complimentary--and so vicious."

7. Having said person apologize the next day for doing to me exactly what I'd just done to her.

6. The child-free panel. It only ended an hour after it was scheduled to. I don't think I'd realized how much I self-censor on the topic until I saw no need to. That one will happen again.

5. Catching up with Tracy. It's always a highlight of WisCon. It might, in fact, be enough of a highlight to explain why we don't talk the rest of the year. Counterintuitive but true.

4. Creating instant happiness with sock monkeys.

3. Meeting and chatting with sdn. It was an exercise in reverse perspective. She got more life sized the closer she got. Way cool.

2. Discovering that someone I've always liked but haven't had many opportunities to talk to is the friend I thought he might be. Getting to have a few brief moments of that conversation.

1. Total fangirl squee moment. Having Ellen Kushner tell me to go write the story of one of her characters because she wasn't interested in doing it. My writing skills are currently wholly inadequate, but if I'm ever able to do the story justice, I may have to take her up on it.

Time to Take a Risk?

Cognitive Daily, my I-haven't-completely-abandoned-my-college-major daily read, has a link to this NPR interview with a probability expert on the futility of trying to predict the next Harry Potter phenom and other highly unlikely things. My favorite part (of course) of the Cognitive Daily article:

He also mentions the propensity to risk more to avoid losses than to make gains. This can explain why publishers are so quick to reject even promising works by unproven writers. Taleb suggests that publishers should be offering more contracts to writers because that small risk can have such a vast reward.

I'm all for that. Now, how do we convince them?

Why SG-1

Over on Making Light, there's a thread about Entertainment Weekly's list of the top 25 SF movies and TV shows from the last 25 years. Stargate SG-1 is not only not on EW's list, it isn't recommended in the 233 comments prior to mine at Making Light. Torchwood (blegh) was listed, but SG-1 wasn't. That floored me.

Full fangeek confession here: Not only do we own five seasons of the show, we also get together with friends on Fridays for dinner and to watch. When the show is on hiatus, the only thing we've done that's more than a placeholder is watch the new Doctor Who. Otherwise, we're just waiting for our stories to come back.

I'm not sure why it's less than cool in the SF fan community to like SG-1, but I'm not ashamed to say that I do. In the interest of combating lists with lists, here's why.

1. The writers know how to pay me back for an hour of my time. Too many shows right now go in for soap opera storytelling, where I have to put in hours of watching before anything is resolved. Not SG-1. The arc goes on, but something is resolved every hour (or two).
2. The characters are geeks. Each of the team (including rotating members) has an overriding passion.
   
3. The characters are bright. They're risk takers, since it's the nature of their profession, but they mitigate the risk where possible.
4. There are consequences. Decisions made in one episode affect the events in later episodes, later seasons. Sometimes this is a good thing. Sometimes expediency proves to be terribly short-sighted.
5. There are non-fatal consequences. The writers trust me as an audience member enough to ease up on the stakes from time to time. These episodes are still compelling.
6. Enemies of our enemies are not necessarily our friends. In fact, enemies have become (uneasy) allies when a new, bigger threat looms.
7. Our allies don't have the same priorities we do. Our friends from other planets and races have responsibilities to their own people that come first. Everyone wants to know what the risks and potential for gain is for them before deciding whether to help.
8. Ascension may be a long-term goal to be aspired to, but nobody's really ready to leave behind being human while they still have another choice.
9. Ba'al. Woof. (Four Ba'als in one room? Intriguing, but a little creepy.)
   
10. The characters have frequent philosophical differences. They are rarely resolved.
11. Nobody seems to be afraid that being funny means they won't be taken seriously.
12. There are good scientists and bad scientists, pragmatic scientists and space cases. Being a scientist doesn't keep a character from being a human being. Ditto for women. Ditto for people in military or government service.
    
13. Our main characters are highly competent people, but they work at it. They don't spend a lot of time, say, in front of the TV.
14. The new big gun/shield is always a stopgap. Technology never stands still.
15. There's plenty of fan service, but it never overruns the story. Except maybe episode 200. I'm not sure. I was too busy laughing for most of it.

There's more, but that's the top-of-the-mind list.

International Pixel-Stained Technopeasant Day

Jo Walton has created a new holiday, International Pixel-Stained Technopeasant Day, as a way of turning crass idiocy on its head. Today is a day to post professional quality work online in celebration of our "technopeasanthood."

What this means in practical terms is an opportunity to check out lots of artists' work for free before buying a book that may or may not be a good match for your tastes. Go. Read. Revel.

In honor of the day, I'm posting my story, "The End of Eternity," on my web site. I hope you enjoy it.

Perfectly Happy

I've written here about a movie and music experiences that have disappointed me. I'll do it again, because it helps me understand where the artist/audience contract broke down. I don't want to repeat the mistakes myself. However, when something makes me really happy, I want to share that, too.

I've picked up two albums in the last couple of months that just keep making me happier. (Really, I downloaded them off iTunes, but at least I didn't call them records.) The first is The Killers' Sam's Town, which I wasn't too sure about the first time I heard it. It isn't quite like anything else I've heard. Every time I think I know where it's going, it doesn't. But the more I listen to it and take it on it's own terms, the more I love it, because that unexpected choice is always right. I liked their first big album, but this blows that out of the water. If you like your music instantly accessible, this isn't for you. If you like things a bit more complicated, give it a try--or two or three.

My most recent acquisition is Cat Empire's Two Shoes. It's a...uh...well, it.... Okay, look; it combines ska, hip hop, Cuban funk, and Aussie punk attitude--generally all in the same song. I was listening this morning on the way to work, and I just grinned like an idiot. The scratching and the trumpet combined soooo beautifully. It was all wrong and completely right. This one you'll have to listen to on your own to decide whether you'll love it or be driven insane by it. But by all means, listen.

If you like it, I recommend Madness's "Swan Lake," Royal Crown Revue's "Barflys on the Beach," and the Insane Clown Posse cover of "Let's Go All the Way." No, really. And if you think all this means I like weird music...oh, yeah.

The Egg, of Course

There are things we say without thinking about or knowing what they mean. "I could care less." (Really. Then why do you sound so scornful?) "Penultimate." (You know a prefix changes the meaning of a word, right?)

"Which came first, the chicken or the egg?" Grr.

This one's bugged me for years. I grew up in the midst of dinosaur mania. I've seen the fossilized eggs. I knew what birds descended from. The second I stopped to think about it, I knew which came first. Whatever the first chicken's parents were, they hatched from and laid eggs. That chicken had to wait in line.

It all seemed so transparent that anytime I heard somebody ask the well-worn question, I had to check whether I was dealing with a closet creationist.

Turns out I was wrong. Sort of. We didn't know until recently. So, to everyone I've looked at funny over the years, I'm sorry. I was making assumptions I had no right to make. Please accept my humble apology.

But can we stop saying it now?

Generic Books

sdn, over on her lj, asks the following:

my inflammatory comment of the day: why do books that are clearly generic ripoffs of other books (a) get ridiculous deals, (b) sell in large quantities to actual, presumably intelligent readers, and (c) get good reviews from established sources? is everyone high? this applies to all age ranges/categories/genres of books, by the way, not just books in my particular world(s).

Since LiveJournal hates me, I'll answer here.

I think the phenomenon in question has more to do with the good books they're ripping off than it does with the bad books. Really good books are often good because they make us uncomfortable, challenge us while offering us enough in the way of story and language to keep us moving through our discomfort. They stick with us because they changed us. Sometimes I'm too tired to put myself through that again.

A generic version of the same book repackages the story without the discomfort. Those who read the original can read the weak carbon and be reminded of their experience with a good book without undergoing the trauma. And since the new book is generic, it can have that kind of resonance for several good books--and lots of readers. Hence the sales. Hence the deals.

It doesn't explain the reviews, but I've never claimed those were explicable.

The Boys in the Band

I went to see a bunch of very good musicians on Saturday. It's a band I've liked for a long time, playing material I love, and I was deeply disappointed.

Okay, so some of it may have been due to the car breaking down in the middle of the street earlier that day, or a disappointing dinner someplace that serves its beer 20 degrees too cold and dripping down the outside of the mug (and onto my jeans), or the scent of patchouli hitting me in the face when I walked in the door. But I think there was more to it.

The lineup of the band has changed since the last time I saw and enjoyed them. (I saw them once in the transition process--WAY too many musicians who hadn't rehearsed together. Highly annoying.) Their lead singer and guitarist has been replaced by two people. They're both hugely talented. Their original fiddle player has returned to the fold. He's not the virtuoso their interim fiddler was, but he's perfectly competent. They'd even rehearsed.

So why was I getting more disgusted by the minute?

First there was the lack of energy. These are killer tunes that in the past have had me dancing so long and so hard I could barely move the next day. Saturday there were pauses to tune and discuss in between each song. The fiddle player was under amped, so every time he took over, momentum dropped off. And the lead singer kept "jazzing" up the lyrics by singing them with no regard for the beat. You just can't do that and keep your audience stamping their feet.

Every time he sang one of my favorite songs, I wanted to throttle him, but I'm not sure he would have cared. He might have viewed it as his chance to stop singing that song forever.

When they played a new song and the energy of the place jumped, I figured out the problem. Their lead singer wasn't having a good time. He was bored with the music he'd written fifteen years ago (the first time he was with the band), and the fact that we liked it didn't matter. He wasn't playing for us. He didn't care whether I had a good time. Somewhere along the way, he'd lost the realization that I'm not paying him to sit on a stage and tootle a tin whistle; I'm paying him to entertain me.

The last guy was a bit of a showoff. He was at least as talented as this new guy, and he did some silly stuff on stage to keep himself from getting bored. But he always brought it back to the songs, and he always took his audience with him for the ride. To me, that means he met the bigger challenge, one the band was failing Saturday night.