We Need To Dig Up Thomas Edison

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No One Else's Opinion, Either

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Writing

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We need to dig up Thomas Edison. We have a job for him. Looks like he's the only one who can do it.

Cutting to the chase: He did not invent the light bulb. He improved on it. Flip the switch, bulb is on and doing the job. Flip the switch off, done. Off/on/off/on/off/on/off.

The bulb is working, the moment we power it up, and it's rested and ready the moment we power it down.

Cars do this stuff, too.

But it's really too bad that we put up with sluggish performance with our high-falutin' productivity toys like desktop computers and laptops and tablets and phones.

I'll prove to you what a sheep you are.

I already know you have a computer or tablet or phone on (so you can read this). Go get another device, one that's powered down.

Ready? Turn it on.

Now, we're going to have a little discussion about all the performance problems you'd think we'd scream about and bully the manufacturers into fixing. But we don't, because we are growing wool.

Have a phone that rotates the screen or pauses it or reconfigures it just because you set the phone down or rotated the thing? For heaven's sake, WHY?  Lightbulbs work in all configurations, the same exact way, in case you're unfamiliar with a flashlight.

Is the toy now powered up and ready to use, yet?

Didn't think so.

I'm typing this on a Chromebook, one of the few outliers in the toy department. Power on, work. Power off, all done.

I like "done". "Done" is the best part.

Done getting ready. Done working for me.

Notice I'm not a Luddite, but until a few so-called world-class big manufacturers stop making prank hardware for sheep who don't care, I won't purchase their products, and I'd really like to buy a riotous assortment of them. Most look potentially fun.

Okay, bazillions of people will buy them anyway.

Well, this is the electronic version of "The Emperor's New Clothes".

Ominous sound goes here:

(Click.)

The Dish On The Super Bowl, And Other Sporting Activities

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Anyone care to tell me what this crap-o-matic thing is in the middle of my text panel, and why some do-good meat-wad decided I have to have it? Why do people do this without leaving some info, such as, "My name is Homer Guelph, and I'm a 4th level tech with Google, and I thought you'd have some some kind of paroxysm of thrill if I just stuck this on your blog by surprise, and you can't possibly get rid of it. Aren't I just the most very special person on this planet since the unicorn?" No, you aren't. Google, quit deciding for me what I want and what I don't want for "improvements". Frankly, what I want--and I intend to get--is for Google to take a flying bite, dry up and blow away, and plunge into a catastrophic and unrecoverable business cycle, with corporate headquarters relocating to an unflushed toilet. 

Blog:

No One Else's Opinion, Either

Topics:

Writing

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A Writer's Magic Word

I'm going to reveal it here, but it needs a moment of setup, so please bear with me.

George Plimpton once played with the New York Philharmonic; another of his many don't-try-this-at-home first-person insider activities.

He rehearsed with a triangle. Leonard Bernstein asked him to tap it. Again. Again. Then Bernstein said that each one of those was different, and asked Plimpton, "Which one did you mean?" He continued with, "Practice, practice, practice."

A triangle. You can mess it up? Apparently so.

Imagine a writer's dilemma, filling a page or screen with words, seemingly like a stream of... triangles?

What's a writer to do?

Fortunately, we have a magic word, to substitute for a musical instrument, but understanding it and practicing it is the writer's version of Bernstein's goal: Which one do we mean?

This is getting convoluted, so I'll get to the point.

The writer's magic word is "exposition".

What do we say? When do we say it? How do we say it? What do we mean?

Prose is music. Composed with the alphabet keyboard, not a musical instrument. The feel and style is exactly the same, however.

It's also been likened to a musical instrument similar to a triangle: a bell.

When do you ring the bell? How loud or soft? What tone do you mean to make? How often do you play it?

An entire work is like a composition of only bells. The writer constantly reveals information in an assortment of ways and amounts, ideally to say what they mean.

What may be more important with writing, however, is not so much the beauty and lilt of the prose, but the fact that, once you've rung the bell, you can't un-ring it.

One word, one twist of phrase, one hint, one shading delivered at the right time and with the right tone, can express a thought that will color and define everything that follows. The memory of that bell that has rung will continue, changing a viewpoint or impression of the rest of the piece, to the good or ill of the writer's intent. Mention a murderer's gun in the first line of a mystery and see how the story works from there.

It's also been likened to a country music star always wearing a cowboy hat onstage. That's so the message has rung, with clarity and purpose: This is not the New York Philharmonic you're listening to, son.

As for writing, you will ring that bell or wear that hat, and your exposition is--if played like a symphony musician--music to the reader's ears.

The Underlayer Twist

The deeper I get into Tess Gerritsen's The Silent Girl, the more I'm convinced of her brilliance.

I call an element of this mystery and underlayer twist. There may be another name for this, but I don't know it. Just as a note, I've already tried to incorporate this into a manuscript I'm peddling to agents, a commercial mystery called OTHERS. So I'm alert to the element.

What this is, is an element of the story that, if the reader knows a reference or detail intimately, it may be a mistake... at first.

A stolen car is recovered, and the original owner's registration and insurance card is found in the glove box.

The problem is, in Massachusetts, the insurance company info is printed on the registration, so drivers don't have insurance cards like other states.

Mistake?

Ummm... no.

This car, though stolen out of Springfield, could be from another state.

And it could have started as a leased vehicle. They're notoriously returned with personal paperwork still in the glove box, and often sold to a new owner that way. I've seen it myself, often.

Now, this has me thinking. Really thinking. And, this may prove to be an utterly meaningless detail, later on.

Was this a possible mistake really meant to throw off a reader who knows something in-depth?

I'll give her that.

It's been done before.

And it's clever as all getout and never easy to incorporate.

And there's another one...

Every martial arts school I've been in was not quite like the one she introduces early on. I've found instructors to be terse, firm and even, and unfailingly cordial to outsiders.

I've yet to see an instructor show much more than respect--maybe some humor and openness--but not the kind of melodrama I'm reading. No fear, no nervousness. Confidence, which is a main by-product of all martial arts training.

She's got me thinking again... and it's maddening.

I can't finish this book fast enough.

Her style certainly does not seem to be canned, or conventional, or trite in any fashion, and it's because I know some crap.

I don't think I'm giving her too much credit, either. This plot is woven too well.

And one more interesting note: Perhaps this is a huge advantage of doing a book signing for readers who haven't read the book, yet.

Oh, the questions, the accusations, the protests...

The spoilers.

Amazing job, Tess.

It's A Bet

A famous rock band once released their new album free of any charge, then asked downloaders to pay what they thought it was worth.

The average donation turned out to be about what they would have normally charged, for an album that buyers would have normally taken a bet on, not having heard it in total and therefore knowing for sure if payment was worth it.

That's the point, right there.

Movies, music, food, all marketed as a bet.

Unlike socks on a store shelf or a birthday card, those are items that people use their hard-earned coin to bet on.

The bet is based on impressions, assumptions, prior experience, and opinions of trusted others. The assumption is that the product will be at least as claimed, maybe better, but worth at least the transaction price to the purchaser. You don't find out with lots of things if they're worth the money you paid up-front until you've pulled them on, started them up, swallowed them.

So it is with writing.

My column provokes the occasional question:  Ever consider writing a novel or play? That comes from two views: My columns are already popular (thank you very much; I'm obviously doing my job) and I show some talent that can spill over into other facets of the prose-generating business. (Thanks for that viewpoint, too.)

I write the column twice a week, and it's been around for a few years, so my track record is lengthy and popular enough so it's an excellent bet I'd find a willing agent for some other form, and a ready market.

Funny how this works. On the strength of those columns, an experienced agent and editor could estimate my sales prior to any actual ones, and plan accordingly. There might actually be an advance!

Still, they're promoting a bet, no matter how successful the author has been to then. A few top-shelf authors currently shoot YouTube videos like movie trailers, to pump up demand for their next book. I've seen some, and they're pretty cool. Hope they're financially worth it; video can cost a wad. Although some look like they were shot with an iPhone--near-perfect, close enough.

I can name a few big authors who have written novels that wouldn't have sold well if it weren't for the fact that they authored them. After safe bet after safe bet, there was a bit of a fail. Let's not get into Hollywood producers who shot a bomb or two. Or three. Trusted, normally-reliable producers.

I'm not good enough to know what kind of publicity needs to be in place, to drum up sales and buzz prior to shelving a new book. I don't know if writing this column is enough.

Furthermore, a relative is trying to round up an agent for his novel, and getting little interest, even though he already has a nonfiction book on the racks and has gone through the publishing/editing/book tour stuff already. Somehow, that kind of track record doesn't count for much, but my little old stream of blather dribbling out thrice a week for a couple of years has what it takes to go for a strong launch in a different area of publishing. I'm told.

I'm mixed up and my brain's throbbing.

Good thing I'm not a literary agent.

Making these bets between the urgent pleas of an author wanna-be and a ripped and buff publishing giant and depending on performance from both sides to put another meal on the table has to drive some to Monster.com for some just-in-case window-shopping.

Maybe all they need to keep smiling through the briers and gopher holes is the idea that they're avoiding a punch clock for yet another day.

I sure couldn't punch one.

Maybe that's why I'm doing what I'm doing, and why I'm accused of chronic cheerfulness.

Anything else is paralysis.

Hi, Kate!

Fear not, the with-it cutting-edge electronic communication methods.

Here's the easy secret to it:

You only need to know a couple of simple and easy things about each.

So long as you're genuinely communicating a message others want to receive, well, you just found a whole new and wonderful tool to stay in touch, get the word out, read antic banter from those you know (or want to), and attend the equivalent of an anytime-anywhere in-your-house no-pressure no-driving get-together that doesn't involve one more tuna casseroles.

I'm using this post just to show a blog fan I just ran into that I'm savvy and with-it and, with a touch of noblesse oblige, I use blogging to encourage, embrace, and lift up others.

Always happy to.

--K.H.

Post Time

I've been asked why I post so rarely.

Many reasons, all of them sensible, none having to do with a lack of enthusiasm for it.

First, I'm busy. Hitting the books, personal duties, personal responsibilities to others, and I pretty much say my peace in my thrice weekly column in the Ticker. That's my bread-and-butter, you know, and that's where the world goes to find me and go sniffing for yet another Ky's Prize. I love the idea of a paycheck, and I'm also strong on loyalty and gratitude that King Seneca had faith in a runny nosed little urchin who displayed some flair for prose. It all blends so well. Yeah, it's a marketing thing, but I hope nobody thinks ill of me for going with the river raft ride. It may look like it's a pure ride, but I'm paddling, and hard.

Second, I have a problem with the idea of throwing something out to the rabble, and allowing an edit of my thoughts and opinions through the comments area. Not that I feel uppity or anything. It's just that King Seneca gets to read the stuff over, and he opines. A few others get the shot, too. I don't believe in the lone inventor theory, when it comes to this kind of open creative process. I don't wholesale delete anything, either, just to flex. I get to structure my theme and thoughts in the Ticker in a way that I can't, here. This is an imperfect ramble.

Third, I have what others say are hot ideas by the bagful. I don't want to release them till they're ready to be cuddled by the world, and the blog form doesn't allow that. Sorry, but you'll get what you're fishing for in the well-stocked pond, not here.

Notice how that metaphor came off a bit strained?

I don't have time for that, and you're not looking for that.

Lightning is one thing, but to bottle it, well, there's an elixir to cure all ills.

Sorry, we're fresh out. Try the Ticker.

--K.H.