It’s been a while since I talked about politics here

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I never even commented on Daschele’s withdrawal from the health care reform fight, even though the scandals he was facing seemed fairly minor and his loss hurt our chances of seeing decent health care reform in this country.

But I do want to post about two things, quickly. First, I hope everyone takes a couple minutes to read this op-ed in the Washington Post. It’s co-written by Nouriel Roubini, one of the few economists in recent years who publicly warned of the financial crash that hit us months ago.

He’s calling for the government to nationalize the banks put failing banks into receivorship. It’s worked in the past, and if the government acquires and then sells troubled assets after they aren’t so troubled any more, it would not be such a financial hardship on the tax payers.

It would also free up credit for businesses who are struggling to replace capital and reduce the size of institutions that are “too big to fail.” We really shouldn’t have those any more, and a little breathing space to let us regulate those would be welcome.

Check it out.

Next, I have leap frog over the Republican refusal to join Obama and the Dems on the stimulus package, bipartisanship, GOP discipline (message- and otherwise) enforced by hardcore conservative interests willing to put up ambitious conservative politicians in the upcoming primaries and talk about Betsy McCaughey.

In 1994, McCaughey was part of the political hit job against the Clinton health care reform plan. She wrote an article in which she said she read the whole thing and gave her thoughts–and stated that the plan would allow the federal government to block you from seeing a doctor of your choice.

This was reported widely by Republican opponents and in the press, and helped fuel public opposition to the bill. Nevermind that it was an outright lie. Clinton’s plan stated exactly the opposite. Explicitly.

Now she’s back, claiming that the stimulus bill has secret provisions that allow the federal government to decide what treatments you can get.

It’s all BS, but it’s all over Fox News, Rush Limbaugh and the other usual suspects. See here for a small link farm (really more of a pea patch) of bloggers pointing out the outright deceptions in her remarks.

How does that rate a comment when the whole stimulus bill fight didn’t? Her lies this time around are an attempt to stifle means testing for medical treatment. What works? What doesn’t? What works best? What’s uselessly expensive? See, McCaughey is on the board of a medical device company, and works for a think tank funded by the pharmaceutical industry. She knows that one in five dollars in this country is spent on health care, and that a frightening percentage of that money is wasted on unnecessary treatments and name-brand drugs.

Very profitable unnecessary treatments and name-brand drugs.

It sounds crazy to say it, but some people think that gathering data on what treatments work best–saving lives–and which don’t is controversial. They’re afraid that letting Americans see the numbers will cut into their profits. And they’re right.

Watch out.

In happier news, I met my daily goal again today. I have a book to give my wife for VDay, and when I leave to write in the morning, I plan to have it waiting on the table for her along with a nice, fresh scone.

Cya.

Another game

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To follow up on my previous post (LiveJournal harryjconnolly.com)about the game Bow Street Runner, I want to offer another in-depth mystery game.

This one isn’t a historical, though. It’s based on a Canadian kid’s show: 11 Somerset is the link to the game (English language version). It’s an immersive environment, like Bow Street Runner, but there are no prostitutes, gin smugglers or suspects to beat up. Each chapter looks like it’s derived from an episode of the show (I say “looks like” because I’ve never seen the show–hell, I don’t even know if it’s still on the air).

Anyway, in the first chapter you sneak around an office searching for the hidden parts of a mysterious device. Once it’s assembled, you get sent on missions by the dead(?) inventor. Collect a bunch of clues in the form of photographs and then try to answer the mystery. Fun. But not as costumey.

This is how people talk.

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As I was ordering my coffee at the Starbucks counter, the guy at the register said: “So. I notice that you use a Macintosh computer.”

“Yeah,” I answered. “I like it.”

He narrowed his eyes and nodded his head a couple times. “I’m going to bond with you on the Mac level.”

In other news, I have replaced my broken keyboard with a shiny new one from the Apple store. I also met my daily goal for Man Bites World today. Things are looking up.

Ugh.

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The crappy thing about buying a jacket from a thrift shop like Value Village, even a nice one, is that you might stick your hand in the pocket and pull out an old, yellowed fingernail clipping. Bleh.

My desktop computer went insane mid-comment yesterday. All I could type was Greek letters, math symbols and other crap. After a wasted hour and an increasingly bitter certitude that my computer had given up the ghost six months after my extended Applecare had run out, I discovered that it’s (almost certainly) a broken keyboard. Which means I will be stimulating the economy on my lunch hour.

I am having trouble sleeping and waking early to do my daily pages. I’m way behind on my schedule for Man Bites World, and it’s really bugging me. Then again, I always have trouble sleeping and waking at this time of year. Must do better, must do better, must do better.

And then, this morning I was riding the bus reading a book I should be enjoying much more than I am, feeling grouchy and inadequate as I head to a job I don’t much like but really really need, the bus tops the hill behind my house and I get a sudden vision.

Today is a rare clear winter’s day, and because I missed my morning bus, I was riding to work just as the sun came up. And in the time it took the bus to make a left hand turn, I caught a glimpse of the Olympic Mountains on the other side of the Sound, their snow caps pink from the rising sun. And just a few degrees above them was the full moon.

And it was beautiful.

I’m just jealous that I didn’t think of it first

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Via Writer Beware:

Stuck for a gripping opening to your latest opus? The Avocado Papers want to help aspiring writers by selling them opening paragraphs for their stories at the low, low rate of $1.75 a word.

Here’s a sample paragraph:

The President was in a pensive mood as he wondered what sort of arc his second term would follow, and idly surveyed what he believed to be the Washington Monument (but which was, in fact, the Capitol) through the tinted, bullet-proof windows. It had been a tough day, but as his motorcade sped along the edge of the Mall some minutes later, his body tensed as he thought about how lucky he was to have a Secretary of Defense who was so good at sucking cock.

For only $152.25! For non-exclusive rights!

Which is hilarious.

And yeah, this site is from last July. Also, they seem to specialize in satire. I wonder if they’ve actually managed to get money out of this?

Quote of the Year!

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I just got a great blurb from Jim Butcher for Child of Fire. Check it out:

“[CHILD OF FIRE] is excellent reading and has a lot of things I love in a book: a truly dark and sinister world, delicious tension and suspense, violence so gritty you’ll get something in your eye just reading it, and a gorgeously flawed protagonist. Take this one to the checkout counter. Seriously.”

Holy crap! Happy!

I’m already off course for the day.

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We had a slushing of snow last night (which is like a dusting, but sloppier) which we weren’t expecting and only discovered when we received an automated call telling us school would be starting 2 hours late.

Now I’m behind on everything I need to do today. For instance:

I have to finish up the chili I put in the crockpot last night and jam it into our refridgerator somehow.

I have to vacuum. A good half hour was spent fixing the damn thing yesterday, and that’s after more than a week of struggling with it. Our carpet is really, really in need of a vacuuming right now, and that’s what I’m going to do next.

Recycling needs to be done.

And so on.

But before I get to the vacuuming and writing my words for today, I have to post this for geniusofevil:

When I came back to writing as an adult, and decided to pursue it seriously, I was trying to write for the movies. I wrote thrillers and zombie space comedies and alien invader scripts and so on. Twice I tried to make the move to L.A. but punked out both times. Once back in Seattle, I got together with a friend to make our own low budget horror films, but that didn’t work out well for me.

And I realized I had changed in the last few years. I now preferred books to movies and so I went back to writing fiction.

So! When I received a note from my editor that I should hold off on writing book three because she had a concern about the proposal, I felt a little sick. I couldn’t help thinking of that scene in SUNSET BOULEVARD where the producer wants to change the writer’s submarine thriller in a comedy about women’s baseball. And I was remembering going through the script I wrote for our horror film with my director, and all the changes he wanted me to make.

But I was startled by the notes I actually received. It wasn’t “Make sure [supporting character x] appears by page fifty and stays through to the end. We like that character.” Nor was it “This setting won’t work for us. What else do you have?”

It was all suggestions about making the book work. Very polite suggestions, too, (which makes me want to take them all the more). “This sounds interesting and should make a good contrast with the previous books.’ “Will this character be appearing?” “Be sure to tell us if [minor character y] survived book two.” “I’d like to see more exploration of the group they belong to.”

And so on. All good ideas, even if I’m not sure I have room in the book to implement them, and all designed to make it a deeper book than I would have written otherwise. Not once did she suggest that I add a sexy, sexy love interest or a zany chimp, and Pikachu help me, I don’t know why I expected it.

Okay. I’m off to work.

A couple things, quickly

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And it has to be quick because I’m sick and sleep-deprived. I slept 9 hours last night and I’m already fading.

I felt like the crap yesterday, but we still went out. I had to cut less from Man Bites World than I expected, and instead spent most of my time filling in paragraphs that had been too sketchy. I must remember to write when I’m writing.

After that, we all went out to the REI flagship store for various things. I could not buy a Wenger backpack (they had none, which surprised me) but I did get a nice one out of the clearance bin for under $20 bucks. We also picked up new shoes for the boy, he did an ascent on the climbing… thingee (and did I remember the camera? I did not. Shame shame). And we went out to dinner.

Now, I was feeling extremely run down, but we ate a Racha Noodles on Queen Anne, which is nice without being too too nice. I had the Duck Curry, which was spicy and fantastic. I left there feeling better than I’d felt all day.

Then the sleeping, which I already mentioned. Today I did the cleaning we didn’t get to yesterday, and I fixed the vacuum cleaner. With fire.

That’s right. There aren’t many problems in the modern world that you can fix with an open flame, and even fewer you can write about in your blog without terrible consequences, but long hairs jamming up the roller brush is one of them.

Now: two links. The first is for Affinity8: The the impotence of proofreading, which is pretty funny.

The second is about a guy who used Google AdWords to test market his book’s title to good effect. (Quick disclaimer: I haven’t watched the video on that site because it’s an hour long). Considering how much trouble I had picking a title for Child of Fire, and since Everyone Loves Blue Dog looks like it might have the same problems, I just might let the reading public decide for me.

OMG. To bed. I’ll try to be more interesting tomorrow.

I’m posting this the night before, just because

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I have a bit of a day planned for tomorrow. First thing in the morning I have to delete a bunch of the work I’ve done on Man Bites World, then try again. As I mentioned, I received my notes for this one, and they were not what I expected.

After that, I have to run some errands, eat lunch, and then the family and I will head out to REI’s flagship store. I’ll dig up a new backpack (hopefully a Wegner’s–thanks for the suggestions!) and the boy will get new shoes.

Then we’re all off to dinner to celebrate the one year anniversary of my publishing contract with Del Rey.

Holy crap. Has it really only been a year?

Jay Lake and persistence. Also, I ask questions

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Questions at the bottom of this post.

Jay Lake posted a couple days ago about “psychotic persistence”, the quality a writer needs to perservere in the face of rejection after rejection. And it’s a good post, although I wouldn’t say I kept writing and submitting because I’m “persistent.” Frankly, I think persistence is the outward appearance; the deep reasons a writer gives up are something else.

In my case, it would be more accurate to say that I’m a secret egomaniac–I always believed I would be published. Right now, seven months before my novel comes out, I expect to be a best-seller and win all sorts of awards, and if it doesn’t happen with that first book the next one will do it, certainly. Or the one after that. Luckily, I have enough common sense to keep that to myself (oops).

So, speaking only for myself, persistence? That’s not what it was. It may have looked like persistence to my wife (poor, suffering woman), but the real fuel was the belief that I was good at this–or at least that I would be good at this with a leetle bit more practice, even in the face of all evidence to the contrary. Others, I’m sure, persist for other reasons.

One other thing I wanted to comment on is his obligatory jealousy comment. Usually, I enjoy Jay’s posts and comments very much, but I find his comments on this subject a little irksome. For instance.

Now, I imagine he has a personal history with writerly jealousy (actually, am I remembering that he wrote a post about it? I’m not sure) and maybe it’s a painful one, but I think it’s crap to tell people to stop feeling what they’re feeling. They’re human beings. Human beings have emotional reactions. Sometimes? They’re strong reactions, and sometimes they seem to come out of the blue.

Saying “blah blah rooted in irrationality” doesn’t do anything except make the speaker feel calm and sensible. “Thank you for being wise,” is… okay. I’m going to let that go without comment.

What writers need to do is control their behaviors, not their emotions. When I felt the sting of jealousy at a friend’s success, I used it as impetus to buckle down. I knew that guy was succeeding because he was doing something I wasn’t, and I tried like hell to figure out what that was.

I didn’t attack him (or her, depending on which time it happened). I didn’t tell him he’d obviously succeeded because he was buddies with someone or blew the right bigwig. That would be stupid. But I knew I wasn’t “divorced from reality.” Reality was slapping me and my secret egotism right in the face–my buddy was a pro. He knew what he was doing, and I, for all my long hours, lost sleep, and struggles, was not.

That shit hurts. Don’t purse your lips thoughtfully, stroke your chin and tell me you understand my baffling, irrational feelings.

/rant.

Can I append one note to that? I like Jay Lake’s blog. I liked Rocket Science very much and plan to read more (someday, if I can ever catch up on my reading, christ). I suspect I’d like him, too. It’s just this one thing, where he poo-poos basic human emotions that really bugs me.

And now: questions! I need to replace my laptop bag. I’m hoping to get a backpack that will hold my Macbook and have enough room for my lunch and gym clothes. Anyone have a big laptop backpack they can recommend?

Next: A co-worker here at my day job is involved in fandom, and she has suggested several times that I attend Norwescon in April. “It would be a good way to promote your book,” she tells me. Personally, I’m dubious about that. Even if the convention wasn’t five months before my publication date, I don’t know how many new readers I’d earn by attending a huge SF convention (especially since I’d only be able to go on Saturday).

Go to a convention: Y/N? I wouldn’t know a soul there except this co-worker, and I’m leary of attending a big party where everyone else knows everyone else. I’m also leary of becoming part of fandom, for reasons having to do with my unease with large groups (see also: SFWA).