Recently in Musing Category

This weekend marked Kaylee's third birthday. While she's enjoyed the parties of past years, this was clearly the first time she really understood the central concept.

"This is a special day for me, and everyone is here and eating cake and singing because of me. Also, I get to wear a crown all day. Bonus."

Another upgrade (considerably less significant in the grand scheme of things, but still nice) was that I got a new computer system (see picture, which is entirely accurate). This new Dell XPS comes in as a replacement for my five and a half year old workhorse (getting quite wheezy and easily overheated in its later years), which has served me very well (easily the best run of any of my previous machines).

I'll be completely honest -- this new comp is primarily a gaming rig -- it's got a lovely (and huge) video card, obscene amounts of storage space and memory, a quad processor setup, and runs all my current games and entertainment with a kind of flawless perfection that makes me waste fifteen minutes taking screenshots of the intricate stitching on my avatar's leather pauldrons.

So, clearly: gaming. Which is fine, since I'd rather do my writing on a laptop most of the time anyway, and I now have a fair number of options in the house for doing just that.

One other thing that makes writing on my laptop(s) preferable to writing on my PC: Office 2007. Specifically, my new desktop has Office 2007, my laptops don't, and I think Word 2007 should win some kind of not-award for discouraging the actual act of writing in what is (still) rumored to be a word-processing program. I'd honestly rather write a full novel in Notepad just to avoid the intensely intrusive tool bars at the top of the window - massive Publishing and Layout buttons that seem to scream 'WHAT YOUR NEW STORY REALLY NEEDS ARE SOME EYE CATCHING FONTS, DONCHA THINK?"

No. No, I really don't. For writing, I need a program that:

• Spellchecks with some degree of intelligence.
  
• Allows you to boldface and italicize type.
  
• Allows you to center the occasional line.
  
• Saves the file into a format that pretty much anyone on the planet can read.
  

And that's about it. Everything beyond that is probably a distraction.

For my money, Rough Draft (a free, 1.6 megabyte program with both American and British English dictionaries installed) is all I really need, For that matter, there are a couple good reasons for me to at least consider writing Little Things my next story using Google Docs.

How about you? What's your preferred sandbox?

You know that list that comes out every year, talking about how the kids today are different than the teachers leading the class?

That's nothing. Check these two videos out.

Shift Happens.

A vision of students today.

Let's say you're really good at eating food. You're a gourmet consumer. You know what's good... if you've done your homework, you might even know why it's good.

And then, at some point, you try to become a cook.

Maybe you're cooking is bad, or maybe it's okay -- maybe it's even good, and people compliment you on it.

But no matter what, that first major dish you cook? Even if it's good, it's not going to be great, not by the standards that you, as a consumer, judge such things.

That is the point where people often decide to not work on cooking as a serious endeavor anymore, rather than working on getting their cooking to catch up to their taste. If they need to make themselves some food, they do it, workmanlike, from a prepackaged thing out of the pantry, or they have some soup and a sandwich; they make it well enough to do the job, and that's it -- it's just meant to fill you up. If they want great food, they feed that desire by consuming someone else's cooking.

But if you're really gung-ho about becoming a great cook (or if you sort of like your cooking anyway, even if it's not the best thing you've ever had), time and practice and the long, slow teaching of years will eventually improve your end product to the point where... well, you might still be able to nitpick it to yourself, but you can usually step back and stay, objectively, "This is pretty great."

Make sense? Okay.

Rather than make you reread that top bit and play mental word-substitution, I'll do it for you:

Let's say you're really good at reading. You know what's good... you've done your homework, and even know why it's good.

And then, at some point, you try to become a writer.

Maybe you're writing is bad, or maybe it's okay -- maybe it's even good, and people compliment you on it.

But no matter what, that first novel you write? Even if it's good, it's not going to be great, not by the standards that you, as a reader, judge such things.

That is the point where people often decide to not work on writing as a serious endeavor anymore. If they need to write something (maybe for work), they do it, maybe following an established formula for the genre or topic; they do it well enough, and that's it. If they want great stories, they feed that desire by reading someone else's work.

But if you're really gung-ho about becoming a great writer (or if you sort of like your writing anyway, even if it's not the best thing you've ever read), time and practice and the long, slow teaching of years will eventually improve your end product to the point where... well, you might still be able to nitpick it to yourself, but you can usually step back and stay, objectively, "This is pretty great."

(Ira Glass talks about this whole process in this YouTube video, (mostly) unflinchingly using his own old work as an example. It obviously inspired this ramble.)

I know the people who've done this, both for their cooking and their writing (in one special case, it's the same person), and it's really something to see.

I am lucky to be someone who likes the food they cook and the stuff they write even when it's not that great, and when it's only actually even good after some work -- the actual cooking and writing is enjoyable enough, I suppose (it's just the cleanup/revision that I dislike). Even when it's the literary equivalent of bachelor omelets in the microwave, I like it, and like it enough to keep fiddling with it. I think it must be so much harder for someone who doesn't feel that way, and works to get their skill to catch up to their taste while disliking all the products that come from that learning period. Rather defines the term "tortured artist" for me.

Or maybe there aren't people like that; maybe we all secretly like the taste of our own horrible culinary experiments, even when we know they'd make most people sick to their stomach?

No, I'm sure that's not right -- people throw their 'bad' stories out all the time (or so I hear).

I don't, but that's me.

You?

Like the picture?

It's like my life at the moment: cool, but complicated.

I didn't mean to be ignoring you, internet, and as a matter of fact, I really haven't been -- there have been a number of emails to large (and not so large) groups of people going out, and lots of posts to various forums, and even a couple posts to my gaming-related blog.

I just ... ahh ... forgot to post anything HERE. Right, then, moving on?

Work (in which I am currently building an interactive online course for basic Outlook use... which is a lot cooler and MUCH harder than it sounds) is going swimmingly, though it is jamming up quite a lot of my FM dial, so to speak.

We, the newlyweds are good -- we've got almost everything unpacked that needs unpacking, and next week my parents are in town and we're going to replace almost all the carpet on the first floor with laminate flooring, because there's nothing I like better than coyotes on iceskates excited dogs on a hardwood floor.

Kaylee begins preschool next month. She is very excited. We are very excited. I think it's going to herald a true sea-change for her in terms of development. And diapers. Did I mention the excited?

Anything else? A lot of geeky gamer type stuff, but nothing worth noting at the moment.

Oh, just as a historical note: Obama's going to be our Democratic nominee, and I'm voting for him. Also, someone in the House filed papers of Impeachment for George W. Bush. Now if Cheney would only resign for medical reasons, it'd be a pretty good month.

It's going to be very interesting around here, come the election time -- mine might be the only Obama sticker in the parking lot at work... perhaps in the whole neighborhood. At least they're all relatively cordial about it.

We got back from Cabo late last afternoon, mostly no worse for wear; Kate had a run in with a jellyfish (as did I to a much smaller degree) that left her less than a hundred percent, and I think we're both running a little low-energy, but otherwise, everything is good. The trip was a lot of fun, though it was more of, say, a "resort vacation" than a "Mexico vacation." In either case, it was a wonderful chunk of quality together time, interrupted at scheduled times with parasailing, snorkeling, and sunset sailing excursions.

While driving up the Pacific coastline in a rental car on Sunday, Kate and I discussed the different kinds of a vacation options a person really has. Those options we boiled down into a kind of grid on which "Things to Do" was one axis and "Things to See" was the other. Our Prague trip was very strongly on the "Things to See" end of things, which Cabo was definitely full of "Things to Do" (even when those things are "sit around the pool and read while people bring you margaritas").

Some vacations or vacation locations are more successful at blending the two basic types. Likewise, certain people might enjoy a mix, or at least can do one and then the other and enjoy both (we are two such people).

Trouble arises, however, when you try (for instance) to fill a day with Things to See in a locale that's entirely (and unapologetically) geared for Things to Do (or vice versa). Ironically, we were actually en route to make EXACTLY THAT MISTAKE on Sunday, while we were having this conversation. Lesson learned -- something to file away for the next grand adventure.

Right. We're home again, the little girl is wonderful, the dogs are exuberant, and Other Things are going on...

* The author of one of the games I'm editing is wilting in the face of unenthusiastic playtest reviews. I'm trying to shore up his resolve and enjoyment for the game he himself invented, but I don't know if I had much impact. It may be as he says -- that I am one of the game's biggest fans and truest member of its target audience. We'll see. For now, I'll work on other things.

* The little writing project I mentioned last week is ch-ch-chugging along. One person (of course) was told what it was, and was visibly nonplussed, but I'll keep at it at least for a little while, because I'm enjoying it, and I like it when I can entertain myself.

* Gregory Frost, best known and recognized for solid short story work, has turned that knack into a full length novel through the charming and engaging trick of making a storyteller his main character. That novel is Shadowbridge, the first in a two-part fantasy that I want to recommend. You'll find I don't recommend books nearly as much as I do movies or television, so take from that what you will. It's good. It's entertaining, and it often interrupted other good vacation activities (drinking, napping, sleeping) so that I could read a bit more. For those who don't like starting unfinished series, rest assured that the sequel is already out.

* My sister seems to think Kate and I should run a half-marathon. In the middle of summer. In South Dakota. She's absolutely, wall-bouncingly mad, but I love her. Family, you know...

Your friends are not playing the same game you are.

You friends are not reading the same book you are. (Hell, my friends aren't even reading the same book that I write.)

Your Friends Are Not Watching the Same Show You Are.

Your $x (whatever your reason for it) is not some fragile vase that is going to shatter the second you $y. It is as strong as you decide it is, and the boundaries are where you set them.

I’m sure that this is obvious to other people, but it is not obvious to me: it’s okay if I’m not perfect. Really, it is. My writing is not some fragile vase that is going to shatter the second I split an infinitive.

It's an interesting post -- the way I read it, it's about paralyzing yourself with the fear that you're going to fail.

Here's a post I wrote back in 2001.

Part of reason that I'm not more involved in 'traditional' creative writing is that I'm comfortable with what I'm doing already: I'm good at it. I'm starting to realize, though, that sometimes you need to do things you suck at.
Failing is the thing we fear, but failing the only way we change; it's absolutely natural. School teaches us to fear failure -- by extension, we learn to fear change.

I don't know that I have a whole lot to add to those two quoted passaged, even after this much time has passed.

I'm working my way down the road one dangerously comfortable rest area at a time, trying to reach places I've never been before, doing things that, if you'd asked me five years ago, I would have been entirely unsure about.

Things that I will, without down, fail at the first time.

I hate that, but at the same time, it's my favorite part.

The more new things we try — the more we step outside our comfort zone — the more inherently creative we become.

John Scalzi on why many adult science-fiction and fantasy authors are missing out on the best sci-fi and fantasy being written today.

Last week, the top 50 YA SF/F bestsellers outsold the top 100 adult SF/F bestsellers (adult SF and F are separate lists) by two to one. So 50 YA titles are selling twice as much as 100 adult SF/F titles. The bestselling YA fantasy book last week (not a Harry Potter book) outsold the bestselling adult fantasy book by nearly four to one; the bestselling YA science fiction title sold three copies for every two copies of the chart-topping adult SF title. And as a final kick in the teeth, YA SF/F is amply represented at top of the general bestselling charts of YA book sales, whereas adult SF/F struggles to get onto the general bestselling adult fiction charts at all.

That serious adult science fiction/fantasy readers don’t seem to know any of this is a) a feature of the opaque nature of book sales, in which no one publicly talks about actual units sold and b) a feature of the apparent short-sightedness of adult sf/f readers, who are missing a genuine literary revolution in their genre because the YA section is a blank spot on the map to them, if not to everyone else. “Here there be dragons” has been replaced by “Here there be pre-teens” or something of the sort. This attitude is especially puzzling when you consider how many SF/F readers got their start with books like the Heinlein juvies, the fantasies of Susan Cooper and John Christopher and Madeleine L’Engle and so on.

I’ve said it before and I’m sure I’ll say it again: The most significant SF writer right now is Scott Westerfeld, whom it seems most adult science fiction fans still have not read and indeed barely know exists. In a sane world, Westerfeld would be a hero to adult science fiction readers, because he’s pretty much single-handedly flown the flag for science fiction to teenagers, thus saving the genre’s bacon for another 20 years. But: He’s YA. So he doesn’t count.

In my local group of reading-friends, one of the most voracious of readers has few if any qualms about picked up, devouring, and sharing out many YA titles. Most, however, have probably never even looked twice at (or heard of) Pretties/Uglies -- I have heard of them only because Kate specializes in YA and middle-grade fiction, and adores the series... I'm ashamed to admit I haven't read them myself.

Yet.

Pretty sad, considering the kinds of stories I write.

I am a language nerd. Although I agree with Steven King's assertion that any word you have to stop and look up in the thesaurus is the wrong word for whatever you're writing, I really do love the way words fit together and the kind of lyrical wonder they can create when they're strung together in pretty way (or -- less pretty but more impressive -- stacked up like a Jenga block).

It's that kind of haphazard, teetering construction that I'm thinking about today.

One of the truisms of English lit that gets tossed around is that at the time that Shakespeare was writing, the English language was approximately one-fifth the size that it is today. One of the reasons that ol' Will and his compatriots were notorious neologists (Shakespeare is credited with the invention of anywhere from 500 to 1700 new words, many still in common use today) was simply because they kept reaching for tools that not only weren't there, but hadn't been invented yet. The same is true of certain phrases and expressions.

What fascinates me is that I get to see a similar kind of lingual evolution on a day to day basis with my daughter. Granted, she is not (yet) Shakespeare, but she does face the same challenges faced by anyone trying to communicate in that era; a limited set of words from which to choose. In some cases, she points or otherwise indicates what she's trying to say; in others, she uses the wrong words in hopes of (I think) being understood anyway.

But in others, she pulls a jenga block from the bottom of the stack, and moves it to the top of the tower. This leaves gaps, to be sure, but she gets to a place she might not otherwise have achieved, and in ways that expand both her understanding and mine.

Example: a few weeks month ago, she and I were lazing about the house on a Saturday. Actually, *I* was lazing, and Kaylee was restless and wanted to something -- anything -- more interesting. She was bored.

The problem was, she didn't know the word 'bored.' For all she knew, the word for what she felt right then didn't exist. (It didn't exist in Shakespeare's time either, and wouldn't for almost 200 years.)

So, with this unnamed feeling, Kaylee came to me.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Kaylee?"

"I'm... sad."

"You're sad?"

"Yes, I'm sad... and tired."

"Ohh, that doesn't sound good."

"Yes. I'm sad, and I'm tired... and I want to DO something."

Sad, and tired, and I want to do something; three linguistic jenga blocks stacked one on top of the next to reach bored. I understood her meaning perfectly, because it was a true and accurate summation of everything she was feeling right then; and far more informative than the single word.

I wonder, sometimes, if all the extra tools we have to work with in the language-as-it-exists-today make us better able to communicate, or actually prevent us from exercising some of our creative and analytic muscles.

... and yet I manage to fall off it.

It's a kind of gift.

At any rate, I'm back from my unannounced hiatus with all kind of news.

Writing related: my agent writes to tell me that my last round of revisions were good and there are just a few more things to work on she's ready to talk to some publishers! I'm... actually a little shocked, to be honest. Not that she is happy with the story or anything, it's just that... I've never been at a place with Hidden Things where I wasn't working on a revision of some kind for someone. It's new and dangerously alluring territory for me, this "someone else is working on it" place. It's a good place -- I might try to get back here more often.

Wedding: Twelve short days to the BIG DAY. I will not be cliche and say "I'd just like for it to all be over," because frankly that's not the case. However, I *would* very much for it all to be going. Started. In process, if you see what I'm saying. Let's have us a wedding.

The next two weeks, I'm off go-into-work work and am instead working on stay-home-and-work work. This includes two editing jobs on roleplaying games that I'm frankly pretty excited to get started on, but also involves thing like last minute wedding tasks and fun additions to my daily schedule such as being able to catch up on my Google Reader while at the gym in the middle of the day -- there's something very satisfying about doing "real work" on your own personal projects -- it's virtuous and decadent at the same time.

When was you're last work from home day? What did you do that had nothing at all to do with work?