Father's Day really ought to be celebrated on the day you first become a father, whether that's the birthday of your first born, the anniversary of your child's adoption, or your wedding anniversary if you're marrying into a family.
For me, today is Father's Day. It is also the anniversary of Seattle's 6.8 magnitude earthquake of 2001. Funny the things you remember, innit?
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Eat It, It's Good for You
Or not.
Dutch scientists have created a unique lab to study the way we choose the foods we eat. It's a canteen, filled with cameras, where they will watch and record not only the customer's food choices, but also how much they eat of what they choose, all in an effort to divine the reasoning, or unreasoning, behind their choices.
Why? Because they can. Because there's a ton of money to be made using subconscious triggers to make us buy or not buy things. Every major food manufacturer, grocery store and restaurant in the country is already spending millions on R&D to try to influence our choices. And as the article points out, 80% of our food choices are irrational and subconscious.
Think about it. What is something you never eat? For my wife, it's seafood. "Nothing from the sea," or the lake, pond, or river. No fish, no shellfish, nothing. Why? Because when she was a little girl, she watched her father gut a fish. Since she was about eight years old, she has refused to touch anything that formerly lived in water. She eats beef, chicken and pork, even though those are gutted, too. She doesn't even know if she likes fish, shrimp or lobster. Her irrational food choice stems back to a mildly traumatic experience in childhood. Because part of every person's self-identity is built upon what foods they will or will not eat, to eat something that you "don't eat" is often beyond our ability to challenge - "If I eat this, I will cease to be me, since I never eat this." The unconscious prohibitions are too great. For most people, their food prejudices can only be overcome by an even greater trauma - starvation.
How many food prejudices do you harbor? We all have them. I hate Brussel Sprouts, because they smell like little balls of fart, and but I will eat or at least try pretty much anything else. I've hated green beans my entire life, until this past summer, and now I love them. It wasn't so much that my tastes have changed, although they have, as I made a conscience decision to eliminate another food prejudice. I began making those conscious decisions when I was about eighteen, when I tried raw oysters for the first time. (Beer was involved.) Up until that time, I had numerous food prejudices, more than most people.
Anyway, the whole science experiment I mentioned above only confirms my earlier suspicions. I do all the grocery shopping for my house. I am not hypoglycemic, but almost every time I go to the grocery store, I get the shakes. When hypoglycemia hits, you kind of lose control of your higher brain functions. All you care about is finding something to eat, and quick - the more, the better.
This is a relatively new thing. It's been happening for less than a year. The conspiracy theorist in me suspects my local chain grocer is spraying something into air to induce hypoglycemia-like symptoms in their shoppers. It is subtle, but real, and it always seems to hit me as I get ready to leave - when you are most susceptible to impulse buying. That's why they have always put candy, magazines and knick-knacks around the cash registers.
I don't know if this is really happening, or not. The thing is, I wouldn't be all that surprised. As long as it isn't specifically illegal, you know they'll do it. Why wouldn't they? If they aren't gassing us to make us hungry now, they'll probably do it in the future.
Dutch scientists have created a unique lab to study the way we choose the foods we eat. It's a canteen, filled with cameras, where they will watch and record not only the customer's food choices, but also how much they eat of what they choose, all in an effort to divine the reasoning, or unreasoning, behind their choices.
Why? Because they can. Because there's a ton of money to be made using subconscious triggers to make us buy or not buy things. Every major food manufacturer, grocery store and restaurant in the country is already spending millions on R&D to try to influence our choices. And as the article points out, 80% of our food choices are irrational and subconscious.
Think about it. What is something you never eat? For my wife, it's seafood. "Nothing from the sea," or the lake, pond, or river. No fish, no shellfish, nothing. Why? Because when she was a little girl, she watched her father gut a fish. Since she was about eight years old, she has refused to touch anything that formerly lived in water. She eats beef, chicken and pork, even though those are gutted, too. She doesn't even know if she likes fish, shrimp or lobster. Her irrational food choice stems back to a mildly traumatic experience in childhood. Because part of every person's self-identity is built upon what foods they will or will not eat, to eat something that you "don't eat" is often beyond our ability to challenge - "If I eat this, I will cease to be me, since I never eat this." The unconscious prohibitions are too great. For most people, their food prejudices can only be overcome by an even greater trauma - starvation.
How many food prejudices do you harbor? We all have them. I hate Brussel Sprouts, because they smell like little balls of fart, and but I will eat or at least try pretty much anything else. I've hated green beans my entire life, until this past summer, and now I love them. It wasn't so much that my tastes have changed, although they have, as I made a conscience decision to eliminate another food prejudice. I began making those conscious decisions when I was about eighteen, when I tried raw oysters for the first time. (Beer was involved.) Up until that time, I had numerous food prejudices, more than most people.
Anyway, the whole science experiment I mentioned above only confirms my earlier suspicions. I do all the grocery shopping for my house. I am not hypoglycemic, but almost every time I go to the grocery store, I get the shakes. When hypoglycemia hits, you kind of lose control of your higher brain functions. All you care about is finding something to eat, and quick - the more, the better.
This is a relatively new thing. It's been happening for less than a year. The conspiracy theorist in me suspects my local chain grocer is spraying something into air to induce hypoglycemia-like symptoms in their shoppers. It is subtle, but real, and it always seems to hit me as I get ready to leave - when you are most susceptible to impulse buying. That's why they have always put candy, magazines and knick-knacks around the cash registers.
I don't know if this is really happening, or not. The thing is, I wouldn't be all that surprised. As long as it isn't specifically illegal, you know they'll do it. Why wouldn't they? If they aren't gassing us to make us hungry now, they'll probably do it in the future.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Sometimes Silence Ain't So Golden
After I finished writing The Thieves' Guild, around about the year 2000, I began looking for an agent. I sent out about 20 query letters and ultimately I received some kind of response to most of them. There may have been one or two that were ignored.
Last June, I began looking for an agent again. I ultimately sent out 40 query letters over the next five months. I received a few positive responses. But here's my gripe. Of those 40 query letters, one in four has never received a response at all. Silence.
It gets worse.
Fifteen days ago, I began sending out 42 email queries for my new screenplay. Of those, I have received just one response, and that one was within an hour of my hitting the Send button. He said, all I'm really looking for right now are fast balls over home plate - easy sales. The others have not responded at all. Silence.
Just one of the many joys of being a writer - the golden silence provided by impossibly high walls.
Update: Edited and redacted. Still no response on the screenplay queries, and one response on a previously pending novel query. Hurray for them, it only took six months to send me a form letter.
Also, I should note that short story markets sometimes have even longer waits, though not as many just never respond at all. I have several stories that have been out close to a year, and one that has been under consideration for more than two years. I don't even count that one anymore, but they still haven't responded.
And then there was the time, back in 2002-2004, when a major publishing house kept a novel of mine for 745 days before I finally got fed up and pulled it from consideration. Funny thing is, in addition to ignoring my query emails, letters, and phone calls, they also never responded to my withdrawal letter, so technically, the novel is still under consideration. That's six years and one month since I first sent it to them. So what am I complaining about, right? It could be worse.
Speaking of, last year I extracted a novella (Ananke) from that novel and got it published at Theaker's Quarterly.
Last June, I began looking for an agent again. I ultimately sent out 40 query letters over the next five months. I received a few positive responses. But here's my gripe. Of those 40 query letters, one in four has never received a response at all. Silence.
It gets worse.
Fifteen days ago, I began sending out 42 email queries for my new screenplay. Of those, I have received just one response, and that one was within an hour of my hitting the Send button. He said, all I'm really looking for right now are fast balls over home plate - easy sales. The others have not responded at all. Silence.
Just one of the many joys of being a writer - the golden silence provided by impossibly high walls.
Update: Edited and redacted. Still no response on the screenplay queries, and one response on a previously pending novel query. Hurray for them, it only took six months to send me a form letter.
Also, I should note that short story markets sometimes have even longer waits, though not as many just never respond at all. I have several stories that have been out close to a year, and one that has been under consideration for more than two years. I don't even count that one anymore, but they still haven't responded.
And then there was the time, back in 2002-2004, when a major publishing house kept a novel of mine for 745 days before I finally got fed up and pulled it from consideration. Funny thing is, in addition to ignoring my query emails, letters, and phone calls, they also never responded to my withdrawal letter, so technically, the novel is still under consideration. That's six years and one month since I first sent it to them. So what am I complaining about, right? It could be worse.
Speaking of, last year I extracted a novella (Ananke) from that novel and got it published at Theaker's Quarterly.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Define "Suck" in 300 Words or Less
Last night, I finally got around to watching The Fantastic Four movie. Yeah, I know. I'm a loser.So, does this movie suck, or what? This movie sucks so bad, it doesn't even deserve to be panned. It deserves negative stars. It deserves two thumbs up the ass of a sweaty Sumo wrestler.
This movie sucks an order of magnitude below the very worst episode of The Incredible Hulk. It sucks like Linda Carter as Wonder Woman (there's a visual for you, boys). Actually, I much prefer the sucking of Linda Carter as Wonder Woman. That was only television and didn't cost gajillions of dollars to make. It was supposed to suck.
But it's like they took all the bad acting and bad screenwriting of those 1970's superhero television shows, including Space Ghost and Scooby Doo's Laff-a-Lympics, and just added a bunch of expensive special effects.
Sadly, it doesn't matter how much a superhero movie sucks nowadays. It'll make money anyway. It can't help but make money if it's flashy enough. People love shiny things, especially if you throw in an invisible Jessica Alba stripping in public. There will be many more to come, hopefully none so bad as this one.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
A Fart that Well-Nigh Blinded Absalom, or An Immodest Proposal
Here's a depressing statistic for you: there are 1,585 short fiction markets listed on Duotrope.com. That's not all the short fiction markets in the world, only the ones Duotrope lists, and Duotrope only lists those with online submission guidelines and who don't charge reading or contest entry fees. Also, they only list those they are aware of, but that goes without saying.
So many places publishing short fiction, competing for so few readers. Short fiction isn't the first choice for most people. They'd rather read a novel, or better yet, some fictionalized account masquerading as biography or history. Or how to lose weight, or make friends, or make money, or how to write a novel and get published, or why George Bush sucks or why liberals want to destroy the world. Thousands of blogs endlessly pontificating. Thousands of news sites endlessly pontificating, but with nice diplomas on the wall lending the illusion of legitimacy. Thousands more entertainment sites, celebrity sites, political sites, weird sites, science sites, porn sites, game sites, community sites. All of them competing for a sliver of the public's reading time. Never mind television, movies, music, work and life in general.
It seems like every day, there are three or four new short fiction markets opening up, and five or six going out of business. Do people even read short fiction anymore, or does the short fiction audience mostly consist of aspiring short fiction writers? Aren't most subscriptions to short fiction magazines sold to writers trying to get published in said magazines?
It seems to me that we are living almost exclusively off ourselves, feeding off our dwindling fat reserves until such time as public interest in short fiction magically revives -hey presto! I recently read somewhere that back in the days of Hemingway and Faulkner, these guys would sell a short story to a magazine like Harper's for the equivalent of a school teacher's yearly salary. Nowadays, if most writers didn't have non-writing jobs providing a trickle of new money into the publishing ecosystem through subscriptions and purchases of the yearly plethora of anthologies, I imagine almost the entire short fiction market would collapse.
I blame university-level creative writing programs. Not only do they churn out a steady stream of aspiring writers, they churn out a steady stream of shitty aspiring writers, completely mucking up the ecology with technically proficient garbage, overwhelming editors, agents and publishers with so many crappy stories that they have been forced to build taller and thicker walls just to keep from being buried in the shit, simultaneously blocking out the good with the bad. They can't completely shut everyone out, because these shitty aspiring writers are the same people who are buying all their books and magazines, and thus keeping them in business. But at the same time, they no longer have the time, energy, or inclination to give a serious look at any of the shit that comes across their desk unless it comes with a prior recommendation.
It's like when a factory posts a job listing and they get 1,500 applicants for one stinking entry-level job. The person who eventually gets the job does so not because of their talent or qualifications. There are probably 100 other applicants equally or more talented or qualified. At this level, the ultimate hiring decision becomes rather arbitrary, often based on the personal, irrational feelings of the employer. Maybe the winner had nicer teeth, or bigger boobs, or was left-handed. Maybe the loser sneezed during the interview, or wore a slightly annoying shade of eye shadow, or was right-handed. Maybe it was cloudy the day the loser interviewed and thus the employer was a little depressed. Maybe the employer had just received some good news, or won a bet, or got laid the night before the winner was interviewed.
Meanwhile 99 other people sit at home wondering what they did wrong. They did nothing wrong. They were just competing against the irrational force of randomness. A writer/doctor I met a few years ago stated it perfectly. He said, "One day Jesus was in Southaven MS. He pointed at a dried piece of bubblegum on the sidewalk and said, the next person who steps on that spot I will make him a famous writer. And as He spoke, a foot stepped on that spot and He looked up and beheld John Grisham. Mr. Grisham is a fine writer, I'm sure, but there are ten thousand more just like him who haven't sold their first book."
Now, if there hadn't been 1,500 applicants for that one shitty factory job, if there had only been 40, things probably would have turned out differently. The employer wouldn't have been so overwhelmed and might have given each applicant careful consideration. But thanks to university level creative writing programs, there are 1,500 applicants instead of 40. Thanks to university level creative writing programs, there are 1,585 short fiction markets listed on Duotrope, but only 155 that pay 5-cents or more per word, and only maybe a dozen that will ever pay more than $1,000 for a short story under any circumstance, and none that pay the equivalent of a year's salary for a school teacher, because publishing short fiction is largely a losing proposition. There's no money in it for the publisher, thus no money in it for the writer.
So I say lets close down the creative writing programs. Stop churning out too many applicants for too few jobs. Or we could always begin culling the herd - arm editors, agents and publishers and let them winnow out the weak and unworthy graduates of Iowa and Clarion. We could feed them to the starving children of Ireland and Sudan. Sure a few creative writing instructors will suffer, their livelihoods will be destroyed, but most of them will be culled from the herd along with their former star students. The best ones will no longer need to teach to survive, as they'll be able to make a living from their actual writing.
The world will be a better place, trust me.
And while we're at it, lets cull most of the other general education university programs. Let's be honest, the only reason you need 60 or 80 hours of general education credits to graduate is because those liberal arts departments would be forced to lay off most of their staffs if not for general education requirements. The only graduates they actually turn out are future teachers of the same damn general education requirements, so why not break this endlessly brutal cycle and stuff them all into one building. Think of the money we'd save in tuition alone!
Forcing people to study Shakespeare doesn't turn them into Shakespeareans, any more than forcing them to take college algebra turns them into mathematicians. Those who want to learn will learn, those who don't won't. Let's generally educate people in high school and allow them to choose their own paths of higher education rather than dragging them through two or more years of institutionally-mandated ritual intellectual hazing. You must first prove your worth by reciting the first twenty lines of Canterbury Tales in Middle English. Only then will you be allowed to learn the inner secrets of organic chemistry. If this wasn't exactly the way it is, you'd think it was a Monty Python skit.
Besides, the only lines of Chaucer's anyone ever remembers come from the Miller's Tale:
This Nicholas anon leet fle a fart,
As greet as it had been a thonder-dent,
That with the strook he was almoost yblent;
And he was redy with his iren hoot,
And Nicholas amydde the ers he smoot,
Of gooth the skyn an hande brede aboute,
The hoote kultour brende so his toute,
And for the smert he wende for to dye.
As he were wood, for wo he gan to crye,
"Help! Water! Water! Help for Goddes herte!"
UPDATE: Stephen King seems to agree.
So many places publishing short fiction, competing for so few readers. Short fiction isn't the first choice for most people. They'd rather read a novel, or better yet, some fictionalized account masquerading as biography or history. Or how to lose weight, or make friends, or make money, or how to write a novel and get published, or why George Bush sucks or why liberals want to destroy the world. Thousands of blogs endlessly pontificating. Thousands of news sites endlessly pontificating, but with nice diplomas on the wall lending the illusion of legitimacy. Thousands more entertainment sites, celebrity sites, political sites, weird sites, science sites, porn sites, game sites, community sites. All of them competing for a sliver of the public's reading time. Never mind television, movies, music, work and life in general.
It seems like every day, there are three or four new short fiction markets opening up, and five or six going out of business. Do people even read short fiction anymore, or does the short fiction audience mostly consist of aspiring short fiction writers? Aren't most subscriptions to short fiction magazines sold to writers trying to get published in said magazines?
It seems to me that we are living almost exclusively off ourselves, feeding off our dwindling fat reserves until such time as public interest in short fiction magically revives -hey presto! I recently read somewhere that back in the days of Hemingway and Faulkner, these guys would sell a short story to a magazine like Harper's for the equivalent of a school teacher's yearly salary. Nowadays, if most writers didn't have non-writing jobs providing a trickle of new money into the publishing ecosystem through subscriptions and purchases of the yearly plethora of anthologies, I imagine almost the entire short fiction market would collapse.
I blame university-level creative writing programs. Not only do they churn out a steady stream of aspiring writers, they churn out a steady stream of shitty aspiring writers, completely mucking up the ecology with technically proficient garbage, overwhelming editors, agents and publishers with so many crappy stories that they have been forced to build taller and thicker walls just to keep from being buried in the shit, simultaneously blocking out the good with the bad. They can't completely shut everyone out, because these shitty aspiring writers are the same people who are buying all their books and magazines, and thus keeping them in business. But at the same time, they no longer have the time, energy, or inclination to give a serious look at any of the shit that comes across their desk unless it comes with a prior recommendation.
It's like when a factory posts a job listing and they get 1,500 applicants for one stinking entry-level job. The person who eventually gets the job does so not because of their talent or qualifications. There are probably 100 other applicants equally or more talented or qualified. At this level, the ultimate hiring decision becomes rather arbitrary, often based on the personal, irrational feelings of the employer. Maybe the winner had nicer teeth, or bigger boobs, or was left-handed. Maybe the loser sneezed during the interview, or wore a slightly annoying shade of eye shadow, or was right-handed. Maybe it was cloudy the day the loser interviewed and thus the employer was a little depressed. Maybe the employer had just received some good news, or won a bet, or got laid the night before the winner was interviewed.
Meanwhile 99 other people sit at home wondering what they did wrong. They did nothing wrong. They were just competing against the irrational force of randomness. A writer/doctor I met a few years ago stated it perfectly. He said, "One day Jesus was in Southaven MS. He pointed at a dried piece of bubblegum on the sidewalk and said, the next person who steps on that spot I will make him a famous writer. And as He spoke, a foot stepped on that spot and He looked up and beheld John Grisham. Mr. Grisham is a fine writer, I'm sure, but there are ten thousand more just like him who haven't sold their first book."
Now, if there hadn't been 1,500 applicants for that one shitty factory job, if there had only been 40, things probably would have turned out differently. The employer wouldn't have been so overwhelmed and might have given each applicant careful consideration. But thanks to university level creative writing programs, there are 1,500 applicants instead of 40. Thanks to university level creative writing programs, there are 1,585 short fiction markets listed on Duotrope, but only 155 that pay 5-cents or more per word, and only maybe a dozen that will ever pay more than $1,000 for a short story under any circumstance, and none that pay the equivalent of a year's salary for a school teacher, because publishing short fiction is largely a losing proposition. There's no money in it for the publisher, thus no money in it for the writer.
So I say lets close down the creative writing programs. Stop churning out too many applicants for too few jobs. Or we could always begin culling the herd - arm editors, agents and publishers and let them winnow out the weak and unworthy graduates of Iowa and Clarion. We could feed them to the starving children of Ireland and Sudan. Sure a few creative writing instructors will suffer, their livelihoods will be destroyed, but most of them will be culled from the herd along with their former star students. The best ones will no longer need to teach to survive, as they'll be able to make a living from their actual writing.
The world will be a better place, trust me.
And while we're at it, lets cull most of the other general education university programs. Let's be honest, the only reason you need 60 or 80 hours of general education credits to graduate is because those liberal arts departments would be forced to lay off most of their staffs if not for general education requirements. The only graduates they actually turn out are future teachers of the same damn general education requirements, so why not break this endlessly brutal cycle and stuff them all into one building. Think of the money we'd save in tuition alone!
Forcing people to study Shakespeare doesn't turn them into Shakespeareans, any more than forcing them to take college algebra turns them into mathematicians. Those who want to learn will learn, those who don't won't. Let's generally educate people in high school and allow them to choose their own paths of higher education rather than dragging them through two or more years of institutionally-mandated ritual intellectual hazing. You must first prove your worth by reciting the first twenty lines of Canterbury Tales in Middle English. Only then will you be allowed to learn the inner secrets of organic chemistry. If this wasn't exactly the way it is, you'd think it was a Monty Python skit.
Besides, the only lines of Chaucer's anyone ever remembers come from the Miller's Tale:
This Nicholas anon leet fle a fart,
As greet as it had been a thonder-dent,
That with the strook he was almoost yblent;
And he was redy with his iren hoot,
And Nicholas amydde the ers he smoot,
Of gooth the skyn an hande brede aboute,
The hoote kultour brende so his toute,
And for the smert he wende for to dye.
As he were wood, for wo he gan to crye,
"Help! Water! Water! Help for Goddes herte!"
UPDATE: Stephen King seems to agree.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Anatomy of a Lightning Strike
Here are 12 sequential video frames captured from less than half a second of film I took earlier this evening.
The images above are of the leading edge of the tornado below, which hit the Hickory Ridge Mall. I took this image probably less than a minute before the tornado hit the mall.
More here.
The images above are of the leading edge of the tornado below, which hit the Hickory Ridge Mall. I took this image probably less than a minute before the tornado hit the mall.
More here.
Friday, February 01, 2008
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