Tag: thoughts

The Trouble with Social Media is…

Well, that’s it, then. I’ve made my decision. Save for this blog, I’ve decided not to have a social media presence. Not as an author, nor as an individual. I’m done.

Why, you ask? (No, go ahead. Ask. You’re going to be reading my answer anyway, so you might as well ask the question. Call it audience participation.)

Well, I’m glad you asked. It’s because there are too many problems which are made worse by social media, that’s why.

No, it’s not about the interactions I’ve had with my fans. It’s not about the interactions I’ve had with fellow writers, either. You see, that’s the part of social media I loved. It brings me joy to hear how my work has affected others–whether that effect has been positive or negative. It never fails to flatter me when someone seeks my opinion on various matters: I’m a dude who writes, nothing more and nothing less. When it comes to fans, I belong in the audience with you–all creators were inspired by others, and someone had inspired them, as well. There doesn’t even need to be a stage since the show is about every single one of us. Social media can sometimes prove that, and I will miss it for those moments.

However, social media also proves that we’re not truly in the Information Age. It does the opposite. For me, it showed that there must be quite a market for bullshit, because there sure seems to be a lot of people selling it. While those who honor truth are certainly welcome to spend their lives trying to debunk what they see on social media, there’s two things I feel they miss. The first is that, despite their ceaseless efforts, the bullshit just keeps on a’coming–that bull has got himself one hell of a bad case of the shoots. The second thing is that the bullshitters have the same loudspeaker as the fact-checkers do. Everyone’s screaming, and everyone’s voice is exactly the same volume. The authority belongs to he or she for whom it is granted, and for that the playing field is even. Sadly, facts aren’t subjective. Therein lies the rub.

Critical thinking skills have clearly become an endangered species. Far too many people seem to factor what is true by using the same formula:

I want this to be true = it’s true.

For every bullshitter who wails about Jewish space lasers, or about how drinking urine is a cure for COVID-19 (no, I’m not making either of these things up), there’s a legion of fans who follow along and absorb every single word. There truly isn’t a claim so outrageous that nobody will believe it. I recall hearing a representative of The Onion say that satire has become almost impossible to write, and I believe it. Folks, we’re there. We have arrived at that point. Keep this in mind as you read on.

There’s a lot of self-proclaimed experts out there. Four years ago, they were political experts. Then they were immigration experts. Then the pandemic hit, and they became crack-shot virologists. Now that Russia and Ukraine are beating each other around, they’re foreign policy experts–and since NATO is involved, they’ve become the go-to source of military strategic advice, as well. Let’s not forget their priceless (yet available for only the cost of your free time) advice on how to survive a nuclear war, which they guarantee we’re all heading toward. (If our leaders were to listen to their military advice, I suppose nuclear war would indeed be virtually guaranteed, but I digress.)

While very few of these “experts” have the brains of your average fruit stand watermelon, what they do have are effective platforms. Platforms which attract audiences of adoring fans who feast on every word. Those same adoring fans quickly pass on what they’ve learned, using the same platform as their newfound heroes did, becoming someone else’s newfound hero. Or at the very least, becoming someone’s new best friend. It’s easy to like someone who agrees with you.

Now, sure. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that loudmouthed know-it-alls and cult fellowships have been part of human history for as long as we’ve been jotting this crap down. And you’re right. Of course you’re right. Everyone’s got a story about Uncle Roy after he’s had one too many drinks during Thanksgiving dinner. The thing is, only in very recent years has Uncle Roy been able to spread his particular brand of expertise far beyond the holiday dinner table. Uncle Roy’s gone global, and there he doesn’t require alcohol to embolden him to speak.

The January 6th insurrection was made possible by guys like Uncle Roy. I doubt it would have happened at all without the Uncle Roys on social media organizing such a thing.

We still would have had a global pandemic. I doubt we’d have had as many preventable deaths without all the Uncle Roys on social media who sowed distrust in public health officials, as well as said health officials’ safety recommendations. And yes, yes, yes, yes, I’m including elected officials in the Uncle Roy camp. (As an aside, at the time of this writing, we are still in a pandemic. That’s what happens when a virus spreads, you see: it mutates. Immunities from past infections and past vaccines start to matter less and less as these mutations continue. Uncle Roy and all of his followers will see that as proof that they were right, not as proof that their advice keeps the pandemic alive while it keeps getting people killed.)

The problem isn’t Uncle Roy as much as it is the size of the dinner table, and the amount of people seated around that table who are willing to listen to him.

Sure, social media would seem to be an ideal platform for debating and debunking such things, but remember what I said about critical thinking skills? A vast number of people, in their quest to matter and to be heard, have allowed their identities to be tied to ideas: an attack on an idea or belief is akin to an attack on the person his- or herself. Other members who share those beliefs feel attacked as well, so they come running to aid their challenged comrade. It’s very tribal.

Scarce on social media are the debates which dig into a given topic in order to search for truth. Instead, the entire goal is to “own” one’s opposers. People’s Exhibit A is how rarely you see these three words: I don’t know. “I don’t know” is seen as a sign of weakness, not as a sign of strength. One who is interested in the truth would admit to not knowing–or Zeus forbid, admit to being wrong. One who is protecting one’s identity simply can’t. He or she has to double down, deflect, or cut straight into an attempt to belittle his or her opponent. No, dear reader, it’s not about finding truth. You’re bringing intellect to an ego fight. Best of luck to you.

Thus the question becomes, if bullshit is being peddled in every store (the store being whatever social media platform one happens to visit), and questioning claims is a call to war, does social media contribute positively toward the so-called Information Age? I don’t think so. I see little evidence of that, nor do I see where it can improve. Being a person who is interested in growth, I can’t justify spending further time in such an environment. That’s my first reason for leaving.

There’s another aspect about social media which concerns me. If you’re of a certain age, you’ll remember what it was like to see something upsetting or to hear something you disagreed with. You maybe told a friend about it. You called someone to talk to about it. But after that, my friend, you dusted yourself off, fixed what you could, and moved on with your life. You didn’t dwell on it. You didn’t seek out something new to feel outraged about–and you almost certainly weren’t directed toward such things on an hourly basis by others (at least, I sincerely hope not).

Social media’s changed all of that. Pick any topic which offends you, and you’ll find a group of folks who also share your hatred. Followers are gained, and soon enough you find yourself in an echo chamber which is filled by people who constantly reinforce your venom. Don’t believe me? Do me a favor. I want you to open your Twitter or Facebook account and go through all of the stuff you’ve either liked, posted, or posts upon which you’ve commented. How many of those things are cute photos, jokes, or amusing stories? Okay, now how many of those things are attacks of some kind against another, complaints, or grievances? I’m willing to bet that I know how that scale leans for a lot of you. Hell, mine was leaning the same way, too. It’s not healthy. Thankfully, it’s fixable. Your hands are on the wheel, so steer toward where you want to go. For me that meant choosing an entirely different path. For you… well, it’s up to you, not to some writer dude on the internet.

I’ve mentioned my distaste for cancel culture before, and that culture thrives on social media. Take movie stars, for example. Some actor says something which raises a few hackles (even if it has to be taken out of context in order to do so), and within minutes a slew of posts which repeat what was said are spray-painted over every feed. Millions of people who otherwise would have never known about it, now do. Everyone’s up in arms. The outrage is at a proper boil. For many, the appropriate response is to ban every movie in which the offending actor has ever starred. To lurk on the actor’s feed, and therefore be present in order to heckle him/her anytime there’s a new post. To jump up the ass of anyone who speaks favorably about any piece of work to which the offender is in any way attached.

To own that actor. To destroy and erase.

To cancel.

Fine… but where is the line drawn? I want you to think of your favorite movie. One that you’ve watched countless times over, and one you will likely watch countless times more. One you know all the lines to. While the main performers might pass your purity test (for right now, at least), you might have noticed that the ending credits have a lot of names in tiny print that scroll by. In your average Hollywood production, there are hundreds of people involved. Think every one of them passes the sniff test? Really?

Spoiler alert: they don’t. Guess you shouldn’t post about planning to watch it again this weekend. One of your friends might see your post and spray foam your way. You won’t belong to the tribe anymore, and that’s a social media death sentence.

How many businesses are on your boycott list now? Still keeping track of them? Keeps changing every time you log on, doesn’t it? Makes life tough when you have to break out a list every time you’re bored or hungry. You certainly don’t want to post about what you decided to do. Gotta be true to your tribe.

And lest you be about to place blame on one side of the political isle or the other, both sides do it. Yes, they do. It’s not a liberal or conservative thing. One side’s Chick-fil A is another side’s Freedom Fries. Whatever the tribe demands, whenever the tribe demands it. You know where the tribe meets and what it depends upon in order to grow and thrive?

You guessed it: social media.

The same place you’ll run into coworkers, friends, and family members you’ve always gotten along with before, but now feel the need to disassociate from. The same place where people tell the world their lives’ stories, yet voice concern about being spied upon by their televisions. The place where you’ll learn that Barry Manilow worked for the secret service when Obama was president and gave all the mosquitos liberal bum cancer so that everyone they bit would hate Trump. (Okay, that last one I made up. But if I felt the need to place a disclaimer here, that should tell you something. Might even make you think of The Onion.)

I do have some fond memories of my time on social media. I’ve met and interacted with many interesting people and have been touched by some of the experiences they’ve shared. I’ve collected a few friends that way, including the woman who became my spouse. That said, I feel that social media has grown too powerful and can do too much harm. I cannot in good conscience continue to participate.

As always, I’m here. I can still be contacted at my website, and I do (usually) still respond. Work continues on my next project, which should be in hot little hands everywhere before long–especially now that I’m not burning away hours of my life on social media. I’m still around, even if I’m not all around.

2

In Solidarity

(3/29/2020)

So here we are, ladies and gentlemen.  COVID-19 has not only introduced itself, it has become the menace that now influences nearly every action and decision we as a people make.  It’s all you see on the news anymore.  It’s all anyone seems to want to talk about.  People are wandering the streets wearing surgical masks and latex gloves.  Store shelves are barren.  And boy, some people have sure gotten meaner: arguing with store clerks, mocking those who are wearing protective gear, and licking odd items in defiance of the disease itself.  There’s the two extremes, right there:  those who are scared to the point of irrationality, while others scoff that it’s “no big deal,” declaring that those who are worried about their safety are pathetic and weak, and that what most folks commonly call the coronavirus (which is actually a class of viruses that happens to include COVID-19) is not much worse than an ordinary flu.

Most of us–the vast majority of us–fall somewhere in between these two extremes.  This post isn’t for you so much.  You see, it’s the people in those two extremes I’d like to talk to.

To the scoffers, I can’t say this plainly enough:  COVID-19 is a big deal–and it’s not an ordinary flu.  Now, it is indeed true that many who become infected by COVID-19 experience only mild symptoms (and some experience no symptoms at all), just like a run-of-the-mill flu.  And yes, a run-of-the-mill flu can and does kill people each and every year.  That’s all true.  I’m right there with you at least that far.  So are the statistics.

However…

A run-of-the-mill flu doesn’t overwhelm our hospitals to the point of begging for ventilators and other supplies, nor does a run-of-the-mill flu force doctors to make decisions over who lives and who dies once those supplies are gone.  COVID-19 does.  In some areas, it’s doing it now.  Right now.  As you read this.

If it isn’t happening at your hospital, it likely will.  Soon.

Nearly every medical professional is sounding alarms.  Treating the sick isn’t sorta-kinda what these people do–it is what they do.  The training they receive is incredible, and it doesn’t end for the entirety of their careers.  If they’re worried and think it’s a big deal, I’d say it’s a big deal.

But you’re not convinced.  Of course you’re not.  For some of you, it’s good enough that your idolized political hero told you either not to worry about it, or that it’s under control.  Did it ever dawn on you that keeping the economy roaring just might be a greater concern of his than your health?  Do yourself a favor and watch Jaws.  That mayor who cared more about keeping the beaches open and bringing in the tourists’ dollars than he cared about taking care of the problem–and hoping the problem went away on its own?  Remember him?  You’re listening to that guy.  Here’s your grain of salt.  You’ll need it if you’re going to take any advice from him.

(Special message to American scoffers who might hold this particular opinion:  no, COVID-19 is not a Democrat conspiracy meant to make President Donald Trump look bad.  Donald Trump does a good enough of a job of looking like a buffoon without anybody’s help.  What, you think this disease skips folks who have Bernie Sanders stickers on their automobiles?  Are you ignoring the fact that people all around the world are dealing with this thing?)

Thankfully, some of you have already figured this out.

“But the symptoms are mild for most people,” you say.  Okay, fine.  Let’s look at that one.  Let’s say you get it and you don’t feel all that bad.  A little achy.  Maybe a low-grade fever that goes away in a few days.  A bit of a cough that resolves itself pretty quickly.  You’ve seen far worse.  Good for you.  You’re very fortunate.  Of course, you need to understand that your symptoms aren’t universal.  If you’re going to be a member of the Human Race, then you’re going to have to consider how others around you are going to handle it once you’ve given your disease to them.  Make no mistake about it:  if you’re treating this as “no big deal,” you are going to pass this virus on to several more people, who may in turn spread it to several more.  As I mentioned earlier, hospitals are full of those who certainly didn’t have mild symptoms.

No, this is serious stuff, folks.  If you’re not going to let it scare you, that’s fine and dandy.  You should, however, most definitely respect it for what it is.

Which brings me to those of you who probably had to move a box of toilet paper out of the way in order to sit down and read this.  Maybe you’ve got another tab open on your browser, obsessively checking to see if Purell is back in stock on Amazon so that you can buy another case of it before it’s gone again.  Thank God you’ve got enough bleach to keep your entire state’s tidy-whiteys gleaming for years to come.  And it’s a good thing you cleaned out three different stores of their supply of beans (which might go a long way toward explaining why you need all that toilet paper and bleach).  You’ve got enough flour to build a snowman in your living room.  You’ve got enough masks and gloves to start your own hospital.

Okay, fine.  I’m exaggerating.  You got me there.

Of course, so are you.

Ever notice that it never seems like you’ve got enough, no matter how much you stockpile?  How you’re constantly looking for a supply of more?  How you glare at family members who use a single package of something, because it now means you’re not as well-stocked as you were before?  How you’re trying to hide what you bring home from full view of your neighbors?  Maybe you’ve even stocked up on ammunition for that very purpose; gotta keep ’em honest, and outta your stuff.

To these people, I say this:  I understand.  No, really, I do.  I’ve got a family of my own, and I’m currently their sole source of income.  It’s up to me to make sure they have what they need.  When you find yourself faced with a situation that you feel you cannot control, it’s very natural to take any aspect that you can control, and control the living hell out of it.  Control it right into the ground.  No, I get it.  I do.

But you’re making the situation worse for yourself as well as for others.  Let’s think about this rationally for a moment.

No one’s talking about shutting down stores which sell the essentials.  (At least, they aren’t to the best of my knowledge.)  These stores survive because they have goods to sell, which means they have no interest in displaying empty shelves.  They’re going to keep ordering stuff–and if you only buy what you need, they’ll continue to have just as much in stock as they did before this mess started.  They had plenty of everything before, right?  You bet they did.

Then life changed, and the panic hit.  People went crazy.  Absolutely ape shit.  Like I said, I understand.  I sympathize.  But it doesn’t change the fact that hoarding begets hoarding.  Here’s a scenario for you:  you buy ten cases of paper towels and leave the store’s shelf empty.  The next guy’s going to buy a case of paper towels the first time he sees they’re available again, even though he usually only buys one roll.  Can you blame him?  I mean, he’s seen that shelf empty before; he doesn’t know how long it’ll be before they’re gone again.  Now he’s making the problem (that you started) worse for someone else.  While this scenario only involves two hypothetical shoppers, scale it up by thousands of people and you can see why we’ve got issues here.  Let’s play again, this time using toilet paper as our example instead of paper towels.  Same outcome, right?

The bottom line is this:  buy only what you need.  If you or someone in your household has been exposed (or has reason to believe that they have been exposed), the suggested length of self-quarantine is, at the time of this writing, two weeks.  Not two decades, or even two months.  Two weeks.  Chances are pretty good that you don’t need a pallet of toilet paper for two weeks:  this is a coronavirus, not dysentery.   And unless you or a family member who lives with you is sick, there’s no need to own enough sanitizers to make your home suitable for use as a surgery suite:  you can’t kill a virus that isn’t there in the first place.  Absolutely you should up your cleaning game–don’t get me wrong.  But when it comes to needing a case of bleach for two weeks’ worth of housekeeping, color me skeptical.

We need to think logically, not emotionally.

If everyone did that, we’d all be able to get what we need the moment we need it.  Hell, you might even reach a point where you’re no longer preparing to shoot your neighbor.  You know, like you’re a civilized human being again, or something.  (Your neighbor wouldn’t have to resort to stealing your stash in the first place since he could easily find his own, but I digress.)

Let’s not forget that we’re all in this together.  It’s not every man (or woman) for him- (or her-) self.  Indeed if it was, we’re all screwed.  Even you, with your cute little arsenal of firearms and adorable crates of sloppy joe mix.  The good news is that society has not broken down–and it won’t so long as you don’t allow it to.  That takes all of us acting together and looking out for one another.  That’s why it’s called a society in the first place.

Besides, you’ve got more control here than you think you do.  It’s easy.  Listen to the experts, and think critically about what self-interest they may have for telling you what they’re telling you.  Stay home if you’re sick, and call your doctor’s office (don’t just show up there!) for further instructions.  Wash your hands frequently–particularly after touching things that potentially-infected people might have touched.  Give others space while out in public.  Cover coughs and sneezes with your elbows rather than your hands.  If your state has a “shelter in place” or “stay at home” order, obey it.

And of course remember that others are having a tough time right now.  Do your part to not make things worse for them.  A virus is easy to share… but so is courtesy.  We’re human beings.  We do best when we behave as such.

0

The Successful Writer?

(8/09/2018)

The funny thing about being a writer is what happens when people discover you’re a writer.  Even people who have known you for years suddenly look at you as if you’re some strange new species.  The discussion takes a dramatic shift and quickly hits all the same questions you have no doubt seen covered in author interviews with the biggest names in the business:  What made you want to become a writer?  What type of books do you write?  Where do you get your ideas?  Any movie deals coming up?

Then they ask you two questions which both live as cozy roommates in the minds of everyone who feels he or she has a story tucked inside of themselves:  what advice do you have for someone who is just starting out as a writer?  What’s it take to be successful and make lots of money?

During this conversation, no doubt your own mind is full of memories of all the late nights and guzzled caffeine spent fighting the good fight against the written word.  Maybe you’re frowning over the size of your audience base, and how difficult it actually is to get your work noticed.  Maybe your entire royalty check for that month was spent on the coffee you’re now holding in your hand.  All the same, it’s obvious to you that the way your company suddenly sees you is not the same as how you see yourself.

The more you run into this situation, the more you wonder what you’re doing wrong.  There must be something–or why would everyone you meet instantly draw the conclusion that somehow the very act of writing immediately leads to smashing financial success?  Should there be a swimming pool full of money in your spacious and landscaped back yard?  Should there be a roomful of suits standing around signing checks in your name at black-tie cocktail parties which are full of celebrities?

You study yourself in your mental mirror.  You see yourself standing in grubby street-clothes, wearing tennis shoes which have blowouts in the sides.  You live in a very modest home, or perhaps an apartment.  You work a day job.  Your book sales come in spurts when they come at all, and very few of those sales result in reviews.  You were just that very morning stressing about some bill, and wondering how you’re going to pay for it.

Your inquisitor sees you as the Monopoly Guy.  You’re a writer, after all–and you must be successful, since after all they’re able to find your work listed on Amazon and perhaps Barnes and Noble or Booksamillion.  And as a successful writer, you must have some sage advice worth offering.  So… what advice would you give a new writer, then?

Never mind all of that, what advice should you be giving to yourself?

Since you’re reading my blog, dear reader, here’s my personal answer:  recognize that you’ve just fallen into a trap, and get yourself the hell out of it.

No, it is a trap.  Yes, it is!  Remember when you were first writing, and you’d set goals for yourself?  Maybe it was something like three pages of manuscript each day.  Maybe it was finishing a particular section.  Maybe it was simply clearing your schedule so that you had time to write at all.  Each goal you achieved felt like a triumph.  It was a success.  When you saw your work out there in the public realm, each new sale was a success; it meant that a new reader had just discovered you, and was about to invest several irreplaceable hours of his or her life reading your hard-fought words.

Yet now here you are examining the word “success” as defined by your company’s standard–in terms of money.  Fame.  Movie deals.  Not on Suzie in Ohio, who just contacted you from off of your blog to tell you how very much she loved your work.  Not on John’s raving Amazon review–he can’t wait for your next book, says he, and you’re pretty sure his name was just added to your mailing list.  Instead of savoring these things, you’re now focused on the fact that Universal Studios isn’t knocking down your door to have you write a screenplay or at least discuss buying rights from you.

Don’t get me wrong:  it’d sure be nice if something like hitting the bestseller’s list or getting interviewed in Playboy ever happened.  But never allow yourself to feel like a failure when it doesn’t.  For most writers, it won’t.

It doesn’t matter to Suzie in Ohio, or to Amazon John.  It shouldn’t matter to you, either.

Author Stephen King is a rock star in the writing world.  He also has been writing novels since well before some of us were even born; he has over fifty books to his credit–and if you’re only counting books, you’re not even scratching the surface.  At the beginning of his career, he’s mentioned repeatedly about how there were bills to be worried about and credit cards which were being relied upon.  Still he wrote.  And wrote.  And wrote.  And wrote.  And for variety, he wrote some more.  His successes with each day’s goals added into the sum of his successes with the completion of each new project, which added into his success at exposure, which added into his success at earning a living.  He was a successful writer before he ever became a “successful” writer.  While I’m sure he’d agree that the money is nice, it clearly wasn’t his driving force.

The love of writing was, and still is.  I guarantee you that if somehow our economic system ended tonight, he’d still get up tomorrow and write some more.  While I have yet to have the pleasure of meeting the man, I don’t think he’d mind me saying so.

I also don’t think that author David Morrell would mind if I shared with you the gist of the online conversation we had about readers themselves.  For those of you who are unfamiliar with Mr. Morrell’s work, he is the creator of the character Rambo, which first appeared in his novel First Blood.  In fact he’s done a lot more work than that.  And still more.  He’s a man who has experienced the bestseller’s list several times.  Do you know what he’s noticed?  That interest in reading has declined over the years.  As writers, we compete with the instant and easy gratification of online binge-watching and on-demand articles, not to mention social media.  People still have free time, yes; it’s just that they have more things to choose from in order to fill it.  The rate at which people buy and read novels has taken a hit as a result.  Do you know what he does about it?  He continues to write.  It’s in his blood.  It’s what he’s made of.  (I’ll just insert my wink right here, thanks.)

Now let’s go back to you, you little writer, you.  You don’t have fifty books out there, do you?  And you’re frowning over slow book sales, having never before known the love of the bestseller’s list, aren’t you?  You’re worried that your reader base isn’t growing as fast as you expected it to, right?  If you’re judging success according to the amount that’s in your bank account, you’d might as well call it a night.

Suzie and John sure hope you don’t.  You see, when it comes to entertaining them–maybe giving them something to think about, or maybe providing a source of enjoyment that (who knows?) might be rare in their lives…

Well, you’ve succeeded.  You succeeded in writing and bringing your work out into the world.  You succeeded in gaining appreciative readers.  That’s success.  Wealth doesn’t really factor in here:  keep in mind, some people are born into money.  That’s not  success–it’s random chance.  Some people buy the winning lottery ticket.  That’s not success, either–once again, it’s random chance.

Those who build their fortune a bit at a time, starting with little more than an idea and a belief in themselves… well, now that’s success, right?  Wrong.  The money is a side effect of their success.  The success is in creating something that people are willing to consume, even if they have to buy it.  Only when that happens does money have its place at the table.

All of this means, of course, that there’s only one answer for our advice to the newbie writer:  write.  Write some more.  It doesn’t matter if you’re an indie author or if you have a traditional agent and publisher–just write.  Read the prose of others and learn from them.  Perfect your craft because your craft deserves it, and forgive yourself of your missteps along the way.  Once each project is done, keep writing.  If that sounds like work to you and you’d rather skip right to the money, then that means you’re not in it for the right reason.  Might I suggest the Stock Market?

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another book to write.  So do you.  I’m sure if we both stay focused, we’ll be successful.

 

0

What’s in a Name?

(6/29/2018)

“After reading your Author’s Note  proceding ‘On the Path of Outcasts,’ it’s become apparent to me that you’re a feminist liberal who is using your work to push your agenda.  I demand that you stop.”

No, this isn’t a direct quote of the email I received.  I had to clean it up considerably for the sake of clarity, context, language, and respect for the proper use of the caps lock key.  As promised in the “Contact” link, I won’t identify anything connected to the email address since no expressed permission to do otherwise has been granted.  I also do not wish to sic defensive fans into his direction or turn this blog into yet another political rage carnival–we have more than enough of those already.  Besides, I have no doubt that this individual will identify himself by way of a retaliatory negative Amazon review after reading this entry.  So be it.  Negative reviews are bound to happen, anyway.  It’s part of the job.

Having said all of that, I do still wish to address the scope and intent of this message.

I doubt anyone who has even a passing interest in today’s political climate can deny that we live in volatile times.  While I’d like to say that it’s as bad as our country (and world, really) has ever seen, I know too much about history in order to make such an assertion.  As Yogi Berra might say, it’s déjà vu all over again.  What gives me hope is knowing that we emerged from it then… so perhaps there’s a chance that we’ll emerge from it now.

Until next time.  And not to burst anyone’s bubble here, but friends?  If we survive this round, there will indeed be a next time.  Trust me on this.  But I digress.

A lot of this hostility, in my opinion, is linked to our need to place labels on everything.  These labels are then placed on shelves much like library books are categorized.  Whether liberal or conservative, feminist or male rights, both sides do it; as a human being, I’ve even caught myself tripping over it–especially during emotional times.  Anyway, the book is placed upon the shelf within its category, and rarely viewed as anything else.  In fact, it’s often forbidden to see it as anything else.  I think it would surprise a great many people to know that they, by doing so, are committing the logical fallacy known as the hasty generalization.  It’s a logical fallacy for a reason, and I recommend curious readers look it up before they commit to using it.  Correct your course immediately if you recognize yourself in what you read.

Labels are a way of generalizing, after all.  As an intellectual species, our tendency is to find ways to make cognition easier, and generalizing does exactly that–to a fault.  By placing a mass of individuals into a single volume and categorizing it as a whole, it winds up making lazy work out of thinking.

Any person can liberally apply lotion, and then conservatively take some aspirin.  You see, “conservative” and “liberal” are descriptors for actions or ideas.  They weren’t intended to be used as all-or-nothing labels for people.  Somehow they’ve become interchangeable with being a Republican or a Democrat, respectively–which is funny when you realize that a Republican president once had the very liberal idea of freeing slaves.  Presently such a person might be villainized for being a moderate (in this context, it’s another adjective, not a title).  Remember the good old days when a person could have a mixture of conservative as well as liberal values?  I do.  And I’m not that old.

Many of my political views do indeed have some very liberal stances–but not all of them do.  To dismiss me as entirely liberal shows some of that lazy thinking thing I just talked about.  If one was interested in compromise, he or she would miss the chance to find our common ground.  All because of using adjectives as an absolute title, and placing far too much of one’s sense of identity upon them.

Feminism.  Now that’s an interesting one.  I think many people on both sides of the fence confuse “feminism” with “misandry.”  Words matter.  If I identify as anything at all–and you’re backing me into a corner here–I’m a humanist.  Feminists shouldn’t have a problem with that, since when it comes to feminine rights and respectful, equal treatment, we hold identical goals.  I also hold great concern over toxic masculinity, forced gender roles, and racism, all of which affect both sexes.  In my view, there’s a lot of overlap.  Hell, most feminists I know are also humanists.  You can play quite a shell game with labels, can’t you?  That’s the trouble with them.

Especially when what we’re really arguing about is morality.  That’s scary and dangerous stuff, folks.

By all means, continue to attack the actions and statements you feel passionately against.  Freedom of speech means nothing when you feel restricted from speaking your mind–in fact, that’s the very time this freedom is needed the most.  Hold people accountable for what they say and what they do.  Drive home what you find is wrong with what they are doing.  Do not, however, lump a mass of people into an entire identical group–especially if you have to change word usage to do so.  Single them out by the property you disagree with.  Single out their ideas and their actions.  You’ll find that some members of their “group” fall away because they never belonged there in the first place.  People you otherwise may have seen as enemies might turn out to be allies to unite against the very thing toward which you’re objecting.  It sounds crazy, but it’s true.

I covered a lot of this ground in my Author’s Note for On the Path of Outcasts.  That’s the second book in a series, meaning that if my critical friend wasn’t reading out of sequence, he had already read my first novel.  Through the Eyes of Outcasts clocks in at some 57,000-ish words, and was designed to be a fast read.  On the Path of Outcasts is approximately 112,000 words.  Based on some quick math, I have to conclude that he read through some 169,000 words until he decided to tell me to stop.  That’s dedication.

I do not mind that my critic had taken the time to write to me; that’s his freedom to do so, just as it’s my freedom to retort.  It’s also true that I hold no grudge against him for finding something I said objectionable:  you can’t please ’em all.  No, my issues here involve his revealing use of fallacy as well as his command that I stop.

Well… I’ll use this platform to tell him what I propose.  I’m not going to stop writing so long as I possess the desire and ability to do so, and I’m not going to restrict my writing to only what certain people approve of.  You, my friend, can stop reading what I write at anytime you so desire.  Such an arrangement frees us both, and I think we can both live with that.

It’s a compromise.

 

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Is There Anybody Out There?

06/23/2018

“Does anyone still manage this website, or has it been abandoned?  I haven’t seen new content here in awhile.”

I’m a huge fan of HBO’s Game of Thrones.  It’s easily the best series I’ve seen on television, period.  Not “the best in a long time,” but period.  I can remember my frustration toward creator and author George R Martin when I learned that the television series was outpacing his ability to finish his novels, and that the series might have to be placed on hold in order to allow for him to catch up.

When I become frustrated at most things in life, my default position is to step back and try to view the situation as an outsider.  I try to imagine what it would look like if I had no vested interest–if I had no dog in this fight.  The result of disconnecting emotion from most any subject is, one starts seeing it objectively.

Mr. Martin is, after all, a human being.  He’s not a word processing lump of meat who is fused to a chair somewhere peeling perfect final-draft-quality first-attempt pages from a magic typewriter, each page falling perfectly on top of a stack of other perfect pages which are ready to be bound and shipped to his publisher.  HBO scriptwriters aren’t kneeling by his feet, jotting down his scenes and dialog as his loud and boisterous voice dictates it.  And by that token, those HBO scriptwriters aren’t emailing their notes to a film crew which shoots those scenes as soon as they’re sent to them.

That isn’t how writing works, and I know that all too well.  Even without HBO’s involvement.  No, these things take time, and no two authors follow the same creative flow.  First drafts rarely represent a final product, and countless revisions lead to countless complete rewrites and countless hours of editing–and sometimes the entire process only leads to having a different first draft than the first draft you had when you first had a first draft.

It’s complicated.

Not only does that not describe how writing works, it also doesn’t describe how being a human being works.  Not even remotely.

I’m the kind of man who insists on keeping deeply personal aspects of his private life… well… private.  That said, I’m a human being.  Just as human as you, Dear Reader.  And as human beings, we share one thing absolutely in common:  life sometimes throws curve balls at us, and never at a time when we’re prepared to even attempt hitting them.  The game changes at the drop of a dime, and very often the only thing we can do is roll with it.

This year has been one of those years where I’ve had to roll with it.  It’s been a lot of rolling.  That said, the water’s calming and the storm has pretty much passed.  Myself and everyone involved are sliding into our new normal, and the winds have died down.

The third and final entry of the Outcasts saga is still in development, and I’ve got several new ideas which are begging for my attention concerning further projects.  Hopefully, this entry shows that this website is indeed still being managed.  I’m still here… and there’s a lot of catching up to do.  While I regain my footing, I appreciate your patience as well as your support.

We’ve still got a lot of ground to cover.

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Research for Fiction?

“How much of what you write could actually happen?  What research, if any, do you do?”

While I’m paraphrasing for the purpose of this blog post, this is one of the better questions I think I’ve ever been asked about my writing.  It’s easy to think that no research at all has to happen in order to write fiction, but the fact of the matter is that readers are more skeptical in today’s world.  People from various walks of life are going to stumble upon and consume your work, and their suspension of disbelief will be shattered if you as a writer try telling them something that they know fully well is not the truth.  Authors also have to pay attention to the fact that our work can influence others who get caught up in the fantasy of what we’ve created.  These are awesome responsibilities, and as a writer the best way to approach them is to make sure that your story has some grounding in reality.  Sure, as a fiction writer, you’re lying to your audience for a few hundred pages–but remember the old saying that the best lies are based on truth.

If you want to be a better liar, you have to be better at telling the truth.  That means research.

I’ve made some missteps along the way, being a human being.  When I first published Through the Eyes of Outcasts, I was convinced that my descriptions of the firearms used throughout the novel were accurate, having been raised around guns and familiar with their use.  Alas, I was approached by a former firearms instructor who had read the book–and while he was generous with his opinion of the story itself, he told me that there was a detail that bothered him which he could just not let go of:  unless my characters were using World War II-era weapons, they were not using clips.  A Colt .45, for example, utilizes magazines.  It’s very true that many people still refer to magazines as clips, but he found it impossible to believe that any character with a military background would ever make that mistake.  He was of course correct, and the story has since been revised.  Oops.  You live, and you learn.

While writing On the Path of Outcasts, it quickly became apparent that I would need to research the exact role police officers play when responding to a scene of violence, and how they approached their duties.  A lot of this information took place on impulse while I was eating my lunch at a local restaurant.  A patrol officer and his partner (what branch, I didn’t know–I saw them only as most citizens do:  they were cops) entered, ordered their food, and were about to leave with bags in hand.  Recognizing opportunity, I rose from my table and approached them.  I first thanked them for their service and introduced myself, then asked permission to interview them if they had the time.  They traded glances, frowned at one another, then agreed so long as I was brief.  Neither could inform me of crime scene investigations (“We’re patrol officers, not investigators,” one explained), but I was given a wealth of information that wound up on the pages of my novel.  Their responses and reflections also led me toward new areas to research.  While I did take some liberties with what I learned (that blame lies squarely upon my own shoulders, not theirs), I think they’d more or less approve of what survived countless revisions and drafts.  I never did catch their names, but I’m grateful for their time and answers.

My descriptions of what a given firearm can do to a human body are very accurate.  When writing about violence, I recognize that I have an obligation not to glamorize it.  We live in an age where firearms are almost as easy to purchase as hamburgers.  You don’t have to know anything about them to gain ownership of them.  Depending on what type you buy or from where you buy them, you might not even have to pass a background check.  You certainly don’t have to receive any sort of training on their use.  But creating the deaths of others is nothing to take lightly nor is it something to fantasize about.  It’s permanent, and leaves lasting damage.  As Sarah once quoted from Dennis, you cannot unfire a bullet.  It is true that I overblow the gore content somewhat in certain scenes, since I do use the blood and carnage metaphorically.  Having said that, the damage described to people and objects in my novels has indeed been sketched out based upon objective sources.  Living in the United States, unfortunately there are a lot of sources to draw from.  So, no, you will never read about bullets exploding gas tanks in my books.  You’ll never read about small-caliber weapons throwing victims theatrically through windows, or having the capability of chopping through objects which would have in truth stopped that given round cold.  You’ll never read about things such as car doors or drywall acting as effective shields.  You will, however, read about the irreversible damage they could have caused in the situations described.  I’m not here to feed the superhero complexes of those who equate firearm ownership with power.  Sure, I’m here to entertain… but some lines do need to be drawn, and that’s mine.  It’s based on reality.   That means research.

I’m just trying to be a better liar.  I’m pretty upfront about that.  Honestly!

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Piracy in the Digital Age

“I just ran a Google search for your book, and noticed it’s on several piracy websites.  How do you feel about your work being pirated?”

I’ve run into this same question on multiple writer’s forums–so when I was asked personally about this topic, I already had plenty of time to form my opinion.  As with most of my views, I like to tap it down from more than one angle.

If it’s really a question of whether I have a problem with people reading my work for free, as an author my answer has to be, “Of course not.”

No, that’s what my answer has to be.

No matter how you’re published or how you market your material, not every reader is a sale.  Let’s say a library purchases one of my books.  That same library is going to allow hundreds of readers to borrow it.  None of those readers will add anything more than the single sale I made to the library.  It’s the same deal as Stephen King has.  It’s the same deal as J.K. Rowling has.  I want that library to buy my book, nonetheless.  Do you know why?  Because hundreds of readers will find it that way, free or otherwise.  They’ll know it exists.

I don’t make all-inclusive statements lightly, but I’m willing to say that every avid reader in the world has visited a used book store, or purchased a used novel at a yard sale or thrift store.  If you buy my novel from such a place, all I’m going to do is thank you and hope that you enjoy it–even though not a single penny of that sale ever made its way into my bank account.  You may have spent money to purchase it, but from my point of view you’re a free reader.  I have no bones to pick about that, either; as a matter of fact, it puts a smile on my face.  Pass it around to friends and family, knowing you’re doing so with my unreserved blessing.

In forums, I’ve seen other authors rage and foam about lost sales for every copy downloaded from a torrent.  I can’t join them in their anger.  Let me put this into proper perspective for you:  The e-book version of Through the Eyes of Outcasts is, at the time of this writing, priced at $3.99.  Four bucks.  About the price of a latte.  Less than the price of a deli sandwich.  Less than a month of Netflix.  If you were to purchase this work through my Payhip store and share the link on social media, you would pay $2.  That’s probably less money than you have hidden in your couch cushions.  If you wouldn’t pay $4, and you wouldn’t pay $2, you’re not a lost sale.  Enjoy your pirated download.

No, I have no problem with others reading my work for free.  Obscurity is far and away a larger enemy to myself (or any other author) than Internet piracy.  Besides all of that, there are so many of these sites that I would be wasting my time playing whack-a-mole trying to clean things up.  I’d rather be writing.

The only thing I do have a problem with is finding my work for sale under a different author name.  My writing is from me to you, and I don’t give a damn if it sounds selfish to say that I claim ownership of it.  I’m the one who spends sometimes up to a year writing and refining it.  I’m the one who puts money and time into creating it.  You bet I’m selfish about owning it.  If I ever find out that someone else is listing my work under his or her own name and claiming credit for it, I’ll own that person.  I register my work.  I have proof of publication dates.  I also have the ability and will to pursue the matter in court.  Make no mistake, I’ll win.  If this paragraph is speaking to you, all I can say is… your move.  Choose wisely.  My advice is to write your own book.

I also have a problem with the prevalence of viruses and malware that infest some of these piracy sites.  I build and work with computers on a daily basis, and I can tell you horror stories about the agony of those who were infected with such things.  Surely avoiding all of that is worth $2-$4 to you.  Or maybe it isn’t.  Either way, you get what you pay for.

You also might not be reading the most up-to-date version.  I’m a human being, and sometimes despite my best efforts the specter known as Typo makes his appearance.  Maybe my terminology wasn’t correct, and it mattered enough to the story that I decided to fix it.  While these things don’t matter much to a paperback book–that version of the novel is what it is and can’t be changed–anything you buy on legitimate sales channels is going to represent my latest and greatest.  I also can’t claim responsibility for any formatting errors the reader encounters when the pirate may have added formats I never made available.

Pirated work may be freely available, but sometimes free comes with a price after all.

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Be True to Yourself?

“How much of you resides within your characters?”

This was an interesting question recently ran by me, and I thought I’d not only share my answer but also elaborate a bit upon it.

Like most authors, I put a lot of myself into my characters.  Writing isn’t just about entertaining–it’s also about clearing the cobwebs and making sense of the world that I live in.  I may create a strange world or extraordinary circumstances into which to stick a character, but my central interest is in what strength this character will draw from in order to dig him- or herself out and overcome the conflict… or will he or she be consumed?

To fall back, the deepest well I have to draw from is within.  What would I do?  Why?

I can answer this more accurately if I give the character some of my own traits–and indeed, I may be providing buried insight into overcoming an issue within my own life.

In Through the Eyes of Outcasts, Scott Ingram is in desperate need of development.  He has dug himself into a rut where he allows himself to be self-arrested on all fronts.  He’s created a comfort zone, only to discover that zone isn’t so comfortable after all.  Scott wants to belong to something.  He wants to matter.  He wants love, and to be loved.  Who among you hasn’t found yourself in a situation that fits this description?  If you can answer that you never have, I’d sincerely like to meet you because I know I’ll never meet your like again.  That said, there’s plenty of life experiences to draw from.  There’s a lot of common mental ground to write into such a character.

Sarah Bollinger starts off sounding very much like the logical voice of reason (which I probably don’t listen to as often as I should) inside my own head.  Harsh and disappointed at times… but always honest with her opinions.  Vulnerable as most of us are, but also strong in many areas–again, just as most of us are.  This is why she only exists within Ingram’s thoughts in the first book.  She’s my voice, she speaks in the cadence of my own internal dialog… and she’s a leading character for the rest of this series.  She’s very much me.  Even when I develop her identity and give her a personality not necessarily matching my own, I’m the cement in her foundation.

Douglass Stevens is trapped in a situation he’d rather get out of, and all he wants to do is get the unpleasantness over with so that he can move ahead with his life under his own terms.  (Sound familiar?  Again, if it doesn’t, we need to have a talk over coffee:  I’m going to find you fascinating.)  What would motivate me in his situation?  How confused would I be, and how would I form plans?  Those answers become his.

Anna is the version of me who knows that her logical voice is screaming against what her heart wants.  She knows what she’s stepping into, she knows at least enough to be sure it’s a bad idea–but she also knows that she’s going to do what is in her heart and make sense of the details later either way.

Even antagonists such as Rob and Lance represent what I feel would happen if I let my worst impulses steal the ball and run off with it.  We’ve all got that little devil inside.  What if we gave him the wheel for awhile?

At the end of the day, it is fiction–and those are fictional characters.  But in their cores, they are alive and breathing, and thanking you for reading this entry.

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