Lilith Saintcrow's Blog, page 181

Hidden Costs, Not Haterade

So of course someone had to ask Jonathan Franzen what he thinks about ebooks, since he's the critical darling of the moment. And of course the Internet exploded when he said ebooks are damaging society. Ink, both actual and virtual, was spilled. Haterade was prepared in copious amounts. It was like the hate that started swilling when Sherman Alexie called the Kindle "elitist." Of course, I am much more likely to think deeply about anything Alexie says than Franzen, for a variety of reasons.

When Alexie "clarified" his stance, this caught my eye:

Having grown up poor, I'm also highly aware that there's always a massive technology gap between rich and poor kids. I haven't yet heard what Amazon plans to do about this potential technology gap. And that's a vital question considering that Bezos wants to change the way we read books. How does he plan to change the way that poor kids read books? How does he plan to make sure that poor kids have access to the technology? Poor kids all over the country don't have access to current textbooks, so will they have access to Kindle? (Sherman Alexie)

Right there, in a nutshell, is a point that gets lost when people on the Internet talk about ebooks. The hidden costs of buying that cheap digital edition–why aren't more people talking about this rather than hating on Franzen for having an opinion? (Admittedly he comes off as somewhat of a pretentious knob in that Telegraph piece, but still.)

It sent me off on a (quelle ironic) Twitter rampage.

Why doesn't anyone factor in platform and obsolescence costs for ebooks? I.e., the ebook reader and its updates.

Frex, the laptop or ereader you're using, and the cost to charge it and replace it for wear and tear, not to mention updates.

Until we get wetware that can jack the book right into our brains, there are still going to be platform costs.

A paperback's cover price takes into account production and platform costs; an ebook's price does not.

These are the discussions we should be having, not hating on writers who have Opinions About Publishing.

And certainly not stroking the turgid egos of highly-paid anomalies on the Internet, either. (My Twitter feed)

After having a great deal of fun with the phrase "turgid egos" I really warmed to my theme.

Ebooks are not "cheap" or "free". They are *convenient* for certain socioeconomic strata.

There is not nearly enough attention paid to the hidden costs, like hardware, platform, obsolescence (planned or otherwise) of hardware–

–replacement costs, access to electricity, etc., etc.

This is the kind of conversation I wish we were having about ebooks, not "So and So is elitist because they have Opinions about Self-Pub."

Or "So and So gives their books away so piracy is always OK." (Hint: this one REALLY irks me.)

Or, "Big Name Author has enough money/brand recognition not to worry about lost sales, so they say piracy isn't a problem." (My Twitter feed)

At that point I started getting a lot of "But I LIKE my Kindle/Nook!" And I'm happy that they do, but that was not the point I was making OR the conversation I was inviting.

There is a narrative out there saying "digital=free." I'd like to see discussion that doesn't use that equation, because it's untrue.

Most of the human species can't afford a desktop/laptop/Kindle/Nook/monthly smartphone bill/startup smartphone investment.

Those that can tend to think their experience is ubiquitous, because it FEELS ubiquitous. The curse of the Internet, you could say.

An examination of the underpinnings and the hidden costs is more productive than hating on ebooks or Authors With Opinions. (My Twitter feed)

At that point Stephen Blackmoore made the great observation: "Not to mention there are still places in the world that don't even have electricity."

Discussing the real costs could help us bend our considerable energies to raising literacy, not getting all hatey on the Internet.

Why is this not a blog post? Because I don't think I can refrain myself from ranting without Twitter's character limit. *sigh* (My Twitter feed)

I'm glad I waited, but so many people asked me to collect those tweets I decided to put them all here.

There were a number of responses that I should probably answer right now:

* "But I LIKE my Kindle/Nook/ebook reader!" Well, see above. That's GREAT. It's WONDERFUL that you like it. I'm not arguing that you shouldn't. I'm saying that when we talk about publishing and ebooks, we should be talking as well about the hidden costs of the platform used to decode/store/show the digital "book." Because those costs are more than you think–not just electricity, and the initial investment in the platform (desktop computer, laptop, ereader, smartphone, tablet) but also things like the monthly cost of an Internet connection or the cell phone bill, the cost of upgrading the hardware every few years (because of the pace of technology and obsolescence both planned and unplanned) not to mention the social costs of slave labor to make it, pollution from the making of it, pollution from the electricity used to power it—the list goes on and on.

* "I'm disabled and the ebook reader makes it easier for me to read!" Often accompanied by "Alexie is ableist!" (I shit you not.) It's great that this technology is helping you, I am very happy for you. But I am mystified at how this was even a response. I don't think it's "ableist" of Alexie to point out that poor kids and their families can't invest in this kind of technology as easily as others can, or of me to say that talking about the hidden costs might help us find a solution.

* "But I have a computer/laptop anyway, adding the ebook-reading function is free." It's not "free." Adding that functionality presupposes the investment in the platform; it is convenient, certainly, but you pay the hidden costs for that convenience whether or not you engage it. It is the fact of the hidden cost we're talking about, not whether or not you feel like added functionality is something you want to use.

* "Paper books have hidden costs too!" Well, those are rather elegantly included in the cover price, so they're not so "hidden." The cover price of a paper book takes into account the price of the paper and distribution, and has for a long time because of the built-up infrastructure. You could argue that bookstores are the purview of a higher socioeconomic stratum too, and that there's invisible privilege there, but I don't think it's quite as germane. For one thing, there's the used books factor; for another, there's few upgrade costs with paper books–if you read them to pieces and get another one, that's an upgrade cost, but it's not nearly as huge as upgrading an ereader every couple years or a laptop every four-five years. There's also the marvelousness of libraries, which even the field a bit for some poorer strata of society.

Of course, it's incredibly hard not to snark observations such as:

Franzen said he took comfort from knowing he will not be here in 50 years' time to find out if books have become obsolete.

"I'm amused by how intent people are on making human beings immortal or at least extremely long-lived," he joked.

"One of the consolations of dying is that [you think], 'Well, that won't have to be my problem'. Seriously, the world is changing so quickly that if you had any more than 80 years of change I don't see how you could stand it psychologically." (Telegraph)

Somehow I think the world will carry on, Jonathan dear.

But I would really like to see more discussion of hidden costs, platform costs, access differences between socioeconomic strata, etc., instead of hating on an author for having a goddamn opinion about developments in the industry they're working in. Doctors have opinions about developments in their field; bricklayers and pizza delivery people, retail workers and scientists have opinions about their chosen (or just career) field. People have goddamn opinions about everything, as evidenced by the jackasses who know nothing about publishing but try to school me about the industry.

But that's another rant, and this is already long enough. Let's talk about the hidden costs of ebooks and eplatforms instead.

Over and out.

Related posts:
Food, Politics, And Hidden Costs
Hidden Hinges, and the Messy Death of a Metaphor
Link Salad, and Stealing

Hidden Costs, Not Haterade

So of course someone had to ask Jonathan Franzen what he thinks about ebooks, since he's the critical darling of the moment. And of course the Internet exploded when he said ebooks are damaging society. Ink, both actual and virtual, was spilled. Haterade was prepared in copious amounts. It was like the hate that started swilling when Sherman Alexie called the Kindle "elitist." Of course, I am much more likely to think deeply about anything Alexie says than Franzen, for a variety of reasons.

When Alexie "clarified" his stance, this caught my eye:

Having grown up poor, I'm also highly aware that there's always a massive technology gap between rich and poor kids. I haven't yet heard what Amazon plans to do about this potential technology gap. And that's a vital question considering that Bezos wants to change the way we read books. How does he plan to change the way that poor kids read books? How does he plan to make sure that poor kids have access to the technology? Poor kids all over the country don't have access to current textbooks, so will they have access to Kindle? (Sherman Alexie)

Right there, in a nutshell, is a point that gets lost when people on the Internet talk about ebooks. The hidden costs of buying that cheap digital edition–why aren't more people talking about this rather than hating on Franzen for having an opinion? (Admittedly he comes off as somewhat of a pretentious knob in that Telegraph piece, but still.)

It sent me off on a (quelle ironic) Twitter rampage.

Why doesn't anyone factor in platform and obsolescence costs for ebooks? I.e., the ebook reader and its updates.

Frex, the laptop or ereader you're using, and the cost to charge it and replace it for wear and tear, not to mention updates.

Until we get wetware that can jack the book right into our brains, there are still going to be platform costs.

A paperback's cover price takes into account production and platform costs; an ebook's price does not.

These are the discussions we should be having, not hating on writers who have Opinions About Publishing.

And certainly not stroking the turgid egos of highly-paid anomalies on the Internet, either. (My Twitter feed)

After having a great deal of fun with the phrase "turgid egos" I really warmed to my theme.

Ebooks are not "cheap" or "free". They are *convenient* for certain socioeconomic strata.

There is not nearly enough attention paid to the hidden costs, like hardware, platform, obsolescence (planned or otherwise) of hardware–

–replacement costs, access to electricity, etc., etc.

This is the kind of conversation I wish we were having about ebooks, not "So and So is elitist because they have Opinions about Self-Pub."

Or "So and So gives their books away so piracy is always OK." (Hint: this one REALLY irks me.)

Or, "Big Name Author has enough money/brand recognition not to worry about lost sales, so they say piracy isn't a problem." (My Twitter feed)

At that point I started getting a lot of "But I LIKE my Kindle/Nook!" And I'm happy that they do, but that was not the point I was making OR the conversation I was inviting.

There is a narrative out there saying "digital=free." I'd like to see discussion that doesn't use that equation, because it's untrue.

Most of the human species can't afford a desktop/laptop/Kindle/Nook/monthly smartphone bill/startup smartphone investment.

Those that can tend to think their experience is ubiquitous, because it FEELS ubiquitous. The curse of the Internet, you could say.

An examination of the underpinnings and the hidden costs is more productive than hating on ebooks or Authors With Opinions. (My Twitter feed)

At that point Stephen Blackmoore made the great observation: "Not to mention there are still places in the world that don't even have electricity."

Discussing the real costs could help us bend our considerable energies to raising literacy, not getting all hatey on the Internet.

Why is this not a blog post? Because I don't think I can refrain myself from ranting without Twitter's character limit. *sigh* (My Twitter feed)

I'm glad I waited, but so many people asked me to collect those tweets I decided to put them all here.

There were a number of responses that I should probably answer right now:

* "But I LIKE my Kindle/Nook/ebook reader!" Well, see above. That's GREAT. It's WONDERFUL that you like it. I'm not arguing that you shouldn't. I'm saying that when we talk about publishing and ebooks, we should be talking as well about the hidden costs of the platform used to decode/store/show the digital "book." Because those costs are more than you think–not just electricity, and the initial investment in the platform (desktop computer, laptop, ereader, smartphone, tablet) but also things like the monthly cost of an Internet connection or the cell phone bill, the cost of upgrading the hardware every few years (because of the pace of technology and obsolescence both planned and unplanned) not to mention the social costs of slave labor to make it, pollution from the making of it, pollution from the electricity used to power it—the list goes on and on.

* "I'm disabled and the ebook reader makes it easier for me to read!" Often accompanied by "Alexie is ableist!" (I shit you not.) It's great that this technology is helping you, I am very happy for you. But I am mystified at how this was even a response. I don't think it's "ableist" of Alexie to point out that poor kids and their families can't invest in this kind of technology as easily as others can, or of me to say that talking about the hidden costs might help us find a solution.

* "But I have a computer/laptop anyway, adding the ebook-reading function is free." It's not "free." Adding that functionality presupposes the investment in the platform; it is convenient, certainly, but you pay the hidden costs for that convenience whether or not you engage it. It is the fact of the hidden cost we're talking about, not whether or not you feel like added functionality is something you want to use.

* "Paper books have hidden costs too!" Well, those are rather elegantly included in the cover price, so they're not so "hidden." The cover price of a paper book takes into account the price of the paper and distribution, and has for a long time because of the built-up infrastructure. You could argue that bookstores are the purview of a higher socioeconomic stratum too, and that there's invisible privilege there, but I don't think it's quite as germane. For one thing, there's the used books factor; for another, there's few upgrade costs with paper books–if you read them to pieces and get another one, that's an upgrade cost, but it's not nearly as huge as upgrading an ereader every couple years or a laptop every four-five years. There's also the marvelousness of libraries, which even the field a bit for some poorer strata of society.

Of course, it's incredibly hard not to snark observations such as:

Franzen said he took comfort from knowing he will not be here in 50 years' time to find out if books have become obsolete.

"I'm amused by how intent people are on making human beings immortal or at least extremely long-lived," he joked.

"One of the consolations of dying is that [you think], 'Well, that won't have to be my problem'. Seriously, the world is changing so quickly that if you had any more than 80 years of change I don't see how you could stand it psychologically." (Telegraph)

Somehow I think the world will carry on, Jonathan dear.

But I would really like to see more discussion of hidden costs, platform costs, access differences between socioeconomic strata, etc., instead of hating on an author for having a goddamn opinion about developments in the industry they're working in. Doctors have opinions about developments in their field; bricklayers and pizza delivery people, retail workers and scientists have opinions about their chosen (or just career) field. People have goddamn opinions about everything, as evidenced by the jackasses who know nothing about publishing but try to school me about the industry.

But that's another rant, and this is already long enough. Let's talk about the hidden costs of ebooks and eplatforms instead.

Over and out.

Posted from A Fire of Reason. You can also comment there.

Self-Publishing Takeaway Game!

"My royalty cheque from (insert Traditional Publisher Name) was only $X00! Why, if I'd self-published, it would have been $X000 for the same number of books sold! Clearly, self-publishing is better!"

I hear this frequently, and it always irks the bejesus out of me. What annoys me is not the assumption that self-publishing is better. For some writers and some books (Chuck Wendig's and Laura Anne Gilman's writing advice books spring to mind) it IS the best path. And it is awesome. No, that's not why, when I hear any of the hundred versions of this hoary chestnut, I immediately start taking EVERYTHING the speaker says 300% less seriously.

Take the number of books sold on that royalty statement. Now we're going to play a game of takeaway!

* Take away the sales to people turned off by a low-cost self-pubbed cover. Even the worst of Big Six covers is preferable to a Poser monstrosity.

* Take away the sales to people buying in stores serviced by the distribution companies the trad publisher has good agreements with. Consider the ease of returns and the likelihood of a buyer taking a chance on a book from the known quantity of a trad publisher vs., let's say, Greenlight or nonreturnable items from a POD (or God forbid, a vanity) press.

* Take away sales to people who have been priced out on, say, a $20 trade paperback of middling quality from a self-pubber using a POD press. Now, you could say, "But I'll price my book at $.99!" Great. You get a slice of a miniscule price from miniscule sales.

* Take away sales to people who are turned off by indifferent editing/copyediting. Oh, but you'll pay to have that done? News flash, cupcake: that's an out-of-pocket expense you need to balance against that royalty check. Either way, that $X000 takes a huge hit.

* Take away the sales the trad publisher gained through marketing/publicity of any type. Now, rare and fortunate is the author whose publisher gets them all sorts of good, high-cost publicity. Most authors get bundled together in catalogs and on lists, but guess what? Those catalogs and lists are invisible publicity that ups the chance of your book being on the shelf somewhere people can see it. Self-pubbing doesn't have the "invisible" publicity a lot of readers don't see but feel the effects of, which then reflects on the royalty statement.

These are just five things wrong with a one-to-one comparison. There are at least fifty on my list. (We could be here all fucking day, but I don't have the patience.) Most of the time, when I bring one or more of them up, the response is a blank stare shading into immediate hostility. (It could be that I lack patience the umpteenth million time I hear this shit spouted, granted.) Self-publishing is not a replacement for trad publishing. It's a different tool.

"My book is awesome but I can't get an acceptance from an agent or publisher!" Well, look at why. Do you have a problem with following submissions guidelines? Is your craft–grammar, punctuation, etc.–spotty? Is your book impossibly niche–like, say the vampiric flatworms that live only in the urethras of one tribe of the Antarctic Red-Jacketed Tundra Sparrow? (If so, drop me an email, there's an academic press that might be interested.) Have you not polished your query letter since you first submitted *mumblemumble* years ago? Writing well requires a time investment, are you investing? Are you using the hard sell and stinking of desperation? Are you just not targeting your queries or networking attempts at people who might be interested? Have you revised your finished work and figured out where it would be shelved in a bookstore (its genre, if you will,) and hence, who in the industry might handle it to bring it to market? Do you know who the publishers and editors in your chosen genre(s) are? If you can't answer those questions, well, your chances of acceptance are not maximized as well as they could be. Knowing this shit gives you an edge, both in trad and in self-publishing.

I'm going to reiterate, because I can just tell there are going to be a lot of comments on the "But you get a bigger percentage with self-pub, you elitist gatekeeper, you!" I LIKE SELF-PUBLISHING. It's a good choice for some writers. It is a great choice for other writers. The problem is, it's a kumquat and trad publishing is a tomato. They are both fruits, yes. But they are not the same thing, and they don't behave the same way when you cook them. You will not get the same results, and comparing them inappropriately will only bring you grief. A bigger percentage of a tiny number is…still a tiny number. Self-publishing is not the get-rich-or-famous scheme a lot of people unconsciously think it is. And that "bigger percentage" has to be balanced against the sales you can reasonably expect AND the out-of-pocket initial outlay you're going to spend. Less outlay, less professionalism, less sales; more outlay, more professionalism, bigger sales but a bigger debit in your ledger to begin with, too.

Speaking of not getting the same results, let's please skip the "But so-and-so was a HYOOOGE SELF-PUBLISHING SUCCESS!" That's great, and I'm happy for them. But those successes should come with that same disclaimer you see in the fine print of infomercials: Results not typical. There's the self-pubber who had a huge web presence and parlayed that into profitable self-publishing. There's the odd raw talent who was lucky and marketing savvy and could spend tons of time growing their "overnight success." There's the Big Names In Trad Publishing who use that name recognition and their financial gains from said recognition to springboard self-pub projects–and that's another thing, a professional writer with connections to editing and experience with the publishing process and what makes a quality project is NOT going to have "typical" results. They have experience they have invested in it, and it shows. Results. Not. Typical. Okay?

Muddy, uncritical thinking is not your friend when it comes to writing or business, or the business of writing and publishing. And, frankly, these are the kinds of discussions and numbers I'd love to see more of when it comes to talking about self-pub, instead of the usual round of Internet hateration and shaking pitchforks at mythical "gatekeepers".

Speaking of hateration on the Net, tune in next time for my reprise on the hidden costs of ebooks. I did a series of tweets yesterday on the subject and have been convinced that I should put them in a blog post for ease of reading.

See, occasionally I can be bribed. Or swayed.

Over and out.

Related posts:
Publishing And Misplaced Punishment
On Publishing, Philosophy, Expectations, And Cookies
Writers And Their Money, Parted

Self-Publishing Takeaway Game!

"My royalty cheque from (insert Traditional Publisher Name) was only $X00! Why, if I'd self-published, it would have been $X000 for the same number of books sold! Clearly, self-publishing is better!"

I hear this frequently, and it always irks the bejesus out of me. What annoys me is not the assumption that self-publishing is better. For some writers and some books (Chuck Wendig's and Laura Anne Gilman's writing advice books spring to mind) it IS the best path. And it is awesome. No, that's not why, when I hear any of the hundred versions of this hoary chestnut, I immediately start taking EVERYTHING the speaker says 300% less seriously.

Take the number of books sold on that royalty statement. Now we're going to play a game of takeaway!

* Take away the sales to people turned off by a low-cost self-pubbed cover. Even the worst of Big Six covers is preferable to a Poser monstrosity.

* Take away the sales to people buying in stores serviced by the distribution companies the trad publisher has good agreements with. Consider the ease of returns and the likelihood of a buyer taking a chance on a book from the known quantity of a trad publisher vs., let's say, Greenlight or nonreturnable items from a POD (or God forbid, a vanity) press.

* Take away sales to people who have been priced out on, say, a $20 trade paperback of middling quality from a self-pubber using a POD press. Now, you could say, "But I'll price my book at $.99!" Great. You get a slice of a miniscule price from miniscule sales.

* Take away sales to people who are turned off by indifferent editing/copyediting. Oh, but you'll pay to have that done? News flash, cupcake: that's an out-of-pocket expense you need to balance against that royalty check. Either way, that $X000 takes a huge hit.

* Take away the sales the trad publisher gained through marketing/publicity of any type. Now, rare and fortunate is the author whose publisher gets them all sorts of good, high-cost publicity. Most authors get bundled together in catalogs and on lists, but guess what? Those catalogs and lists are invisible publicity that ups the chance of your book being on the shelf somewhere people can see it. Self-pubbing doesn't have the "invisible" publicity a lot of readers don't see but feel the effects of, which then reflects on the royalty statement.

These are just five things wrong with a one-to-one comparison. There are at least fifty on my list. (We could be here all fucking day, but I don't have the patience.) Most of the time, when I bring one or more of them up, the response is a blank stare shading into immediate hostility. (It could be that I lack patience the umpteenth million time I hear this shit spouted, granted.) Self-publishing is not a replacement for trad publishing. It's a different tool.

"My book is awesome but I can't get an acceptance from an agent or publisher!" Well, look at why. Do you have a problem with following submissions guidelines? Is your craft–grammar, punctuation, etc.–spotty? Is your book impossibly niche–like, say the vampiric flatworms that live only in the urethras of one tribe of the Antarctic Red-Jacketed Tundra Sparrow? (If so, drop me an email, there's an academic press that might be interested.) Have you not polished your query letter since you first submitted *mumblemumble* years ago? Writing well requires a time investment, are you investing? Are you using the hard sell and stinking of desperation? Are you just not targeting your queries or networking attempts at people who might be interested? Have you revised your finished work and figured out where it would be shelved in a bookstore (its genre, if you will,) and hence, who in the industry might handle it to bring it to market? Do you know who the publishers and editors in your chosen genre(s) are? If you can't answer those questions, well, your chances of acceptance are not maximized as well as they could be. Knowing this shit gives you an edge, both in trad and in self-publishing.

I'm going to reiterate, because I can just tell there are going to be a lot of comments on the "But you get a bigger percentage with self-pub, you elitist gatekeeper, you!" I LIKE SELF-PUBLISHING. It's a good choice for some writers. It is a great choice for other writers. The problem is, it's a kumquat and trad publishing is a tomato. They are both fruits, yes. But they are not the same thing, and they don't behave the same way when you cook them. You will not get the same results, and comparing them inappropriately will only bring you grief. A bigger percentage of a tiny number is…still a tiny number. Self-publishing is not the get-rich-or-famous scheme a lot of people unconsciously think it is. And that "bigger percentage" has to be balanced against the sales you can reasonably expect AND the out-of-pocket initial outlay you're going to spend. Less outlay, less professionalism, less sales; more outlay, more professionalism, bigger sales but a bigger debit in your ledger to begin with, too.

Speaking of not getting the same results, let's please skip the "But so-and-so was a HYOOOGE SELF-PUBLISHING SUCCESS!" That's great, and I'm happy for them. But those successes should come with that same disclaimer you see in the fine print of infomercials: Results not typical. There's the self-pubber who had a huge web presence and parlayed that into profitable self-publishing. There's the odd raw talent who was lucky and marketing savvy and could spend tons of time growing their "overnight success." There's the Big Names In Trad Publishing who use that name recognition and their financial gains from said recognition to springboard self-pub projects–and that's another thing, a professional writer with connections to editing and experience with the publishing process and what makes a quality project is NOT going to have "typical" results. They have experience they have invested in it, and it shows. Results. Not. Typical. Okay?

Muddy, uncritical thinking is not your friend when it comes to writing or business, or the business of writing and publishing. And, frankly, these are the kinds of discussions and numbers I'd love to see more of when it comes to talking about self-pub, instead of the usual round of Internet hateration and shaking pitchforks at mythical "gatekeepers".

Speaking of hateration on the Net, tune in next time for my reprise on the hidden costs of ebooks. I did a series of tweets yesterday on the subject and have been convinced that I should put them in a blog post for ease of reading.

See, occasionally I can be bribed. Or swayed.

Over and out.

Posted from A Fire of Reason. You can also comment there.

Normal As It Gets

I made it through the weekend.

I had to get a new litterbox for the Remaining Cat, and get rid of the old ones. I got her the veritable Cadillac of litter receptacles, and you should have heard her yowling with delight. "YOU GUYS!" she would crow to the Absent Cats. "YOU GUYS, COME LOOK AT THIS! IT'S NEW AND SHINY AND SMELLS WEIRD!"

The fact that she received no answer perturbed her, so she went looking for Sweet Tuxedo and Cranky Duck Cat. She checked all their hiding spots, and I was hard-put not to dissolve in a wave of tears.

Oh, who am I kidding? I cried. She was always getting them and bringing them out to show them new stuff. I also cried when I found a lone hairball under my bed. *sigh*

The trouble was, this fancy-dancy litterbox had a door, and the silly Remaining Cat–oh, let's call her Mad Tortie–has not grasped that you must go through the door to reach the Stuff What Catches The Sewage. (She's very sweet, and very stoic, and very loving, but not high in the brains department.) I honestly didn't think she'd have this much of a problem…

…until I woke up and found out she had used the bigger planters in the sunroom as her bidets, so to speak. So it was time to clean the sunroom, again, and I took the damn door off the Cadillac Litterbox. She jumped immediately in and started flinging litter with such abandon it almost hit Miss B in the nose–did I mention Miss B has a distressing fondness for Kitty Roca? Screw the cat kibble, she says. Give me the already-digested!

So I had to haul the Aussie away and put her on the other side of the glass door, her nose pressed against it like Little Orphan Annie's. "YOU ARE DOING THINGS IN THERE WITHOUT MEEEEEEE," she moaned, as I swept up litter and cursed under my breath. "THEY MUST BE FUUUUUN THIIIIIIINGS. WITHOUT MEEEEEEEEE."

The sunroom is clean(ish), and Mad Tortie has stopped calling for the Absent Cats to come see the new doins, though she regularly checks all their hiding places in the house. Several of my plants are much the worse for wear. Miss B has been nervously checking around to see if the Absent Cats are perhaps hiding somewhere she can heeeeerd them out of, trotting behind Mad Tortie on her daily rounds. It would be hilarious if it didn't break my heart to see them searching for Sweet Tuxedo and Cranky Duck.

Anyway, things are slowly returning to normal. Or as normal as it gets, around here. The sunroom's looking mighty bare, and Mad Tortie spotted a feral rabbit out the window earlier today…

…but that's another blog post.

Related posts:
No More Today, Thanks
Cat vs. Treadmill, Round One
Lord forgive me, for I just did something nuts.

Normal As It Gets

I made it through the weekend.

I had to get a new litterbox for the Remaining Cat, and get rid of the old ones. I got her the veritable Cadillac of litter receptacles, and you should have heard her yowling with delight. "YOU GUYS!" she would crow to the Absent Cats. "YOU GUYS, COME LOOK AT THIS! IT'S NEW AND SHINY AND SMELLS WEIRD!"

The fact that she received no answer perturbed her, so she went looking for Sweet Tuxedo and Cranky Duck Cat. She checked all their hiding spots, and I was hard-put not to dissolve in a wave of tears.

Oh, who am I kidding? I cried. She was always getting them and bringing them out to show them new stuff. I also cried when I found a lone hairball under my bed. *sigh*

The trouble was, this fancy-dancy litterbox had a door, and the silly Remaining Cat–oh, let's call her Mad Tortie–has not grasped that you must go through the door to reach the Stuff What Catches The Sewage. (She's very sweet, and very stoic, and very loving, but not high in the brains department.) I honestly didn't think she'd have this much of a problem…

…until I woke up and found out she had used the bigger planters in the sunroom as her bidets, so to speak. So it was time to clean the sunroom, again, and I took the damn door off the Cadillac Litterbox. She jumped immediately in and started flinging litter with such abandon it almost hit Miss B in the nose–did I mention Miss B has a distressing fondness for Kitty Roca? Screw the cat kibble, she says. Give me the already-digested!

So I had to haul the Aussie away and put her on the other side of the glass door, her nose pressed against it like Little Orphan Annie's. "YOU ARE DOING THINGS IN THERE WITHOUT MEEEEEEE," she moaned, as I swept up litter and cursed under my breath. "THEY MUST BE FUUUUUN THIIIIIIINGS. WITHOUT MEEEEEEEEE."

The sunroom is clean(ish), and Mad Tortie has stopped calling for the Absent Cats to come see the new doins, though she regularly checks all their hiding places in the house. Several of my plants are much the worse for wear. Miss B has been nervously checking around to see if the Absent Cats are perhaps hiding somewhere she can heeeeerd them out of, trotting behind Mad Tortie on her daily rounds. It would be hilarious if it didn't break my heart to see them searching for Sweet Tuxedo and Cranky Duck.

Anyway, things are slowly returning to normal. Or as normal as it gets, around here. The sunroom's looking mighty bare, and Mad Tortie spotted a feral rabbit out the window earlier today…

…but that's another blog post.

Posted from A Fire of Reason. You can also comment there.

Great Fields of Catnip

I know I promised Squirrel!Neo. Unfortunately, I can't keep that promise.

I lost two good friends today. Cranky Duck Cat, who was well over 12, and Sweet Tuxedo Kitty, who was no spring chicken either, have been having increasing health problems. Today they absconded to the Great Fields of Catnip, where the hamsters are made of that cheese Cranky Duck loved but wasn't allowed to have anymore but now he can have all he wants, where the trees all dangle little happy toys and bits of yarn for Sweet Tuxedo to chase, where Cranky Duck will receive a new pair of ears and Sweet Tuxedo will no longer have sprung gaskets. There are sunny windowsills and warm laps aplenty, and scratches just behind the ears or under the chin where they liked them best.

They went, finally, easily and painlessly, and they were together as they would have wanted. God knows they were like an old married couple, and grew increasingly cranky and increasingly fond of each other in equal measure.

I am devastated and the Prince and Princess are incredibly sad. Cranky Duck was, after all, pretty much as old as the Princess. They were fixtures of our lives for many years. They were both half-feral rescues, and had commensurate health problems. Despite many mishaps (after all, it was Sweet Tuxedo who was kicked in the head by a Certain Squirrel) they were loving creatures. I love them both, and I am at least glad they are resting comfortably.

Comments are closed because I can't bear even condolences right now. I know I will feel better in a while, but right now I can't do it. Thank you.

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From Kickass Un-PreRequisite to Rippling Tweakage

Crossposted to the Deadline Dames, who you should really be reading. Because we're awesome.

Instead of the Snowpocalypse we feared (and that Seattle is currently suffering under the spike heel of) we've got rain. Lots of rain. Well, this is the Pacific Northwest, and I happen to like rain, but I wish the weather would make up its mind. Heavy wet snow yesterday, melt and easily an inch of rain today, branches down everywhere and my morning run more like a swim–oh, I know I could have used the treadmill, but Miss B was inside all day yesterday, which meant it was either get her out for a run or go to the dog park and stand in mud up to my knees. An appetizing choice, indeed.

Plus, the Little Prince became, once more, Sir Pewksalot last night. All of which is a roundabout way of saying my temper and nerves are equally frayed, and I decided on a Three Things post because if I start on a rant or two now there will be nothing but a smoking crater left where my computer used to be. (Expensive.) Not to mention with all the biting and snarling going on all over the Internet about Authors Daring To Speak, so to speak, and a rant doesn't seem like a good idea. For lo, if I strap on my armor now and go all Don Quixote after Idiot Entitled Jerks On The Internet, I may never stop. And I've writing to do, so…yeah. Three things. Let's see.

* Kickass is not a prerequisite. It's not even a requisite. I swear to God, someday I am going to write about Milquetoast von Constipated, a potbellied, balding vampire with bowel issues who lives in Minnesota and, whenever there is an incident of violence, he *gasp* alerts the authorities! Together with his werecow buddy, Milton Morton (who is not only vegan but gets tipped every full moon), they do not fight crime willingly. Rather, they sort of bumble through and the police take care of things on their own. (As to why he has bowel issues when he's on a liquid diet, I'll just say, have you ever tried to live on protein shakes? HAVE YOU?)

Sounds amusing, doesn't it? But it's sparked by a frustration of mine: where is it written that I can't write anything other than kickass leather-clad wiseacres? I mean, I'm very glad people connect with my kickass heroes and heroines, but that isn't all I write, it isn't all I am. It isn't all the world consists of. I dislike it intensely when I write a character whose strength is internal and am immediately subjected to a "but your fans won't recognize…" Screw that. They will recognize, and those who send me venomous screeds about how I should just stick to writing kickass chicks even though I don't do so very well (seriously, it's like the writers of these things all got together in a room somewhere) can just go…fly kites. Yes. fly kites.

The point of this is: If you're used to writing one thing, and you want to write another thing, go ahead and do it. You may have to attempt a couple times before you get a salable piece, but it will teach you things about writing that staying in your comfort zone will not. I'm fairly okay at writing angst and violence, but you know what I would really love? I would love to be talented at writing comedy. Comedy is hard effing work, it doesn't come naturally to me. (Unless it's bleak black macabre humor. Heh.) It doesn't stop me from wanting and trying, and from seeking other types of characters and stories to play with. What you're good at writing and what you want to write may be two different things, but you should try them both.

* The Levenger catalog is pure crack. I mean, their 3X5 cards are incredibly useful while revising or making grocery lists, both things I do at my computer. My bag lust is inflamed every time I see their briefcases. And, oh my God, the desk sets. The desk sets. It's nice to reward myself with some lovely tools after slogging through a zero draft. I nerd all over their paper, and one day, one day, I will have a Levenger desk. I'll save my pennies, by God, and I will have it.

Other things I keep within easy reaching distance while I'm writing: a statue of Ganesh writing, some Climb On creme, cell phone, tarot cards (Rider-Waites, for those curious), Moleskine notebook, a couple pads of paper both legal and Levenger, scissors, pens and sharpened pencils, rubber bands, a Keep Calm and Carry On paperweight, two pink plastic flamingos, six dictionaries, two thesauri, two visual dictionaries, assorted other reference works from encyclopedias of military arms to herbals and Jack the Ripper books. Also, two copies of Jane Eyre, plus six or seven DVDs of different treatments of Jane Eyre, and a few Wuthering Heights. (Don't ask.) Also, tissues, ibuprofen, and Carmex. Because you never can tell.

The flamingos are for practicing dialogue with. (But that's another blog post.)

* Beware of great ideas. "A million cat clocks! That's a GREAT idea!" Then some of them started looking a little odd because their tails weren't moving. And I had to find more batteries. This just goes to show you, great ideas are only great until one gets to the care, feeding, and administrivia involved. (Note: I have six cat clocks, all on my living-room wall. And I want more.)

What does this have to do with writing? Simple. Beware of great ideas. Sometimes they happen halfway through a zero draft, and you either have to go back and alter what you've already written to account for the Great Idea, or you just go ahead and write as if the Great Idea has been there all the time, which means the first half of revising the zero draft is likely to send you to the booze cabinet sooner rather than later. Sometimes the Great Ideas happen during revision, and one should be careful because they are like pebbles thrown into a quiet pond. (BOOT TO THE HEAD!) The ripples spread throughout the entire book, which may mean you have to go back and deal with tweaking everything before and after in subtle and overt ways. Rippling tweakage is another thing that will send you to the booze cabinet during revisions. Or to banging your head against a brick wall, whichever is handier. (Also, Rippling Tweakage is my new indie band name.)

Great ideas are great, but there is no Great Idea that fixes everything without a lot of work. If the Idea is Great Enough, the work, while frustrating, is also a process of simplification. If it's a Mediocre Idea masquerading as Great, or even just a Garden-Variety Idea Of Some Magnitude But Hardly Greatness, well, booze cabinets and brick walls, or whatever coping mechanism works for you, STAT. It doesn't make the Rippling Tweakage any easier, but it can dull the gnawing pain between your temples somewhat.

…I just looked at that last sentence and cannot believe I typed that. Some days, I really love my job.

Over and out!

Related posts:
Doing NaNo This Year
If You Need Permission, Babe, You've Got It
The Synchronous Mailbag

Pitchforks And Torches

Get out the pitchforks and torches, it's that kind of day…

So, there's been some brouhaha in the book-reviewing world. Mostly, it's been yet another edition of Authors Behaving Badly, and I'll just point you at Cleolinda's rundown and my own hoary old advice. Of course writers shouldn't respond, positively or negatively, to reviews. Of course it's wrestling a pig in mud–the pig loves it, and you just get dirty and look like an idiot. Of course. Of course.

But.

Look, it would take the patience of a saint to put up with some of this shit. And writers are most definitely not saints. Neither, dear Reader, are you.

In any group of people, X% are going to be assholes. It's like the speed of light–it's a fucking constant, so let's get used to it and go on from there. Even those who are not assholes as a matter of course can sometimes act in an asshole manner, given the right conditions. Sometimes, we're all assholes. You, me, that guy over there, everyone.

I have to tell you, though, sometimes I just don't blame authors as much as you'd think. There are "review" sites that only serve to aggrandize their owners' precious little pretensions, and there are "review" sites that should have a sign attached saying "LOOK, JUST FEED MY ENTITLEMENT COMPLEX BECAUSE OTHERWISE I'LL BADMOUTH YOU!". Then there's Goodreads–which I use myself, as a means of tracking my reading, and to be available, to a certain degree, to fans. Which is all fine and good, but just like EVERY OTHER SOCIAL NETWORKING SITE, there are some corners of Goodreads that might as well be 4chan. That's all right if you like 4chan, and of course, if I claim the right to say whatever the hell I want here on this corner of the Internet that I pay for and maintain, I can certainly allow it to "review" sites that appear to be someone's shallow little reproductions of high-school cliquishness. C'est la vie, c'est la guerre, c'est the fucking marmalade.

A lot of times, however, when I see an Author Behaving Badly On Teh Interwebs–I'm not talking about harassment, I'm not talking about plagiarism–I see a writer getting mad at some deliberately provocative pieces of horseshit. There are "review" sites that keep waving red flags and waiting for the moment a writer, any writer, will snap. They get a charge off this, and I don't precisely blame some writers for responding. It turns into a situation that only ends well for the petty little provocateur, because they end up getting the emotional charge and the hit count. It never, ever ends well for the writer.

So while I don't precisely blame the writer sometimes, I do wince. And I do sometimes privately agree with the kernel of some of their rants. I am, and plenty of other writers are, in the position of not being able to offer agreement publicly or professionally, and I think a lot of "review" sites and Mean People on social networking sites bank on that. It's like the Speshul Snowflakes who decide to be rude to retail or food-service workers. They get the emotional charge and get a kick out of being the "injured party" or merely the Stirrer Of The Shit, and their stink spreads far and wide.

The point of all this is, sooner or later a writer is going to be tempted to respond. If the idea of taking the high road and behaving professionally isn't enough to stop you, just think about what it means to descend to the level of the jackass who's trying to taunt you into reacting. Is it worth being just like him or her? Is it truly worth it, when you know you're just going to end up covered in shit while they laugh at the fact that they made you respond while basking in their brief Internet celebrity? Is it seriously worth it?

This isn't to exonerate every writer who behaves badly on the Internet. It's just to say that sometimes, you know, I don't exactly blame the ones who do snap under the provocation. There but for the grace of God goes anyone, really.

It would do well for us all to remember that.

Over and out.

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To Show My Dislike

If you aren't reading The Fox Sister or Girl Genius, dear God, hie ye forth and do so!

It's a bright cold morning, and what isn't frozen is close to it. Including me. I find myself in a curious abeyance today; Miss B is quiet and watchful as if she senses a change in the weather. Of course, it could just be that we've been too busy to be believed lately, and she's been right with me during all of it. I bless the day I visited the shelter and saw her sweet doggie face. I know every owner thinks their dog is the best, but I'm sorry, my girl has them all beat.

Anyway, the Bandit King revisions proceed apace. I am really wishing I could have killed this protagonist early and saved myself all this fuss. I normally don't like my heroes much (there's an exception in Jack Gray, who I actually kind of admired, and Darik isn't bad but he still has a long way to go) but it's rare for me to dislike them to this degree. My mild irritation with this hero has turned into outright flaming hatred, which means my notes for revision are covered in little Post-Its saying I can kill him, please tell me I can kill him!, or Idiot asshole or even, Why did I think writing from his POV was a good idea? In the time it takes me to scribble one of those little notes, I could be making changes…so I suppose it's just another avoidance tactic.

This career is full of those.

Anyway, it's time to dive back in. If I can't outright kill this guy I can stab, burn, heartbreak, and eye-mutilate him. He won't be nearly as pretty when I finish with him, dammit, and it serves him right. *quietly fumes*

Over and out!

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