Mark L. Van Name's Blog, page 269
October 5, 2010
Talking Boy
As I mentioned last week, while I was in Portland, the fine folks at the Intel Software Network's Take Five Videos filmed an interview with me. We talked about seamless, self-aware, and context-aware computing, and we also discussed briefly my charity work with Children No More. We filmed outdoors, which led me to squint throughout the ten-minute piece, but if you're interested, click on the video below and check it out.
October 4, 2010
Help!
I've written before about how much I like this silly Beatles movie. Last night, though, for no reason I can recall, I flashed on two songs from the film that affected me greatly at the time--and that still touch me.
You see, though I was only ten when I saw Help!, I was already having crushes on girls and convinced I was deeply in love with each one. None of those crushes turned out well, however. Being ten didn't help, of course, but neither did the fact that I was a poor, crewcut-wearing, overweight nerd with almost no filter between my brain and my mouth.
After a couple of deeply embarrassing fiascos, I decided the Beatles had been right to advise me to keep my love to myself, as they do so winningly here.
They also showed that they knew what would happen when I didn't.
Ah, hell, now I'm in a DJ mood. Fall is here, and as summer fades in the rearview mirror and romance wafts through my mind, I can't help but play this Bruce tune for you.
And that's enough, because I could do this all night, but real work beckons.
You see, though I was only ten when I saw Help!, I was already having crushes on girls and convinced I was deeply in love with each one. None of those crushes turned out well, however. Being ten didn't help, of course, but neither did the fact that I was a poor, crewcut-wearing, overweight nerd with almost no filter between my brain and my mouth.
After a couple of deeply embarrassing fiascos, I decided the Beatles had been right to advise me to keep my love to myself, as they do so winningly here.
They also showed that they knew what would happen when I didn't.
Ah, hell, now I'm in a DJ mood. Fall is here, and as summer fades in the rearview mirror and romance wafts through my mind, I can't help but play this Bruce tune for you.
And that's enough, because I could do this all night, but real work beckons.
October 3, 2010
Writers are not their protagonists
I was talking recently with a new writer who was concerned that readers might assume that because a story's protagonist was in some ways similar to the writer, the writer was talking about himself/herself. Many new writers share that concern, so I thought I'd address it here. Four points are key:
1. Many writers create protagonists who are physically similar to them.
At Bouchercon, I've often heard the joke that mystery writers create protagonists who are exactly like them except a little taller, thinner, and in better shape. There's certainly some truth behind the humor, and the practice isn't limited to mystery writers, but it's also far from universally true. More importantly, a character's physical characteristics are usually their least important traits.
2. If you're doing a good job with your fiction, your protagonist is his/her own person.
Characters must be true to themselves. They must behave in ways that make sense for them, react as they would if they were real people, and so on. If every character in a book or story is just the author, then the piece is full of copies of a single person with many names and so will not be very entertaining.
3. You can't stop some readers from believing this.
Don't even try. Lee Child is a rangy, fit-looking, six-foot-five writer. Jack Reacher, the protagonist of his many fine novels, is a superhumanly fit, superhumanly strong, insanely great fighter and marksman who is also six-foot-five. I've listened to fans at Bouchercon confuse the two--while staring at Child. I don't know Child, but I'm pretty darn sure he's not Reacher.
No matter what you say, some readers will make this mistake--which leads me to...
4. Don't worry about this crap.
It's nothing but noise in the system. Tell your story the best you can. Make every character be as realistic a person as you can manage. Build real worlds. Stay consistent with the rules of those worlds. Do everything as well as you can, and ignore the rest. You can control what you write. That's all you can control.
Sure, some parts of you will seep onto every page. That's part of what readers want. There are no new plots, but there are constantly new writers delivering them. Trying to entirely hide yourself in fiction is a pointless, futile exercise, so don't bother.
Do your best. Ignore the rest.
1. Many writers create protagonists who are physically similar to them.
At Bouchercon, I've often heard the joke that mystery writers create protagonists who are exactly like them except a little taller, thinner, and in better shape. There's certainly some truth behind the humor, and the practice isn't limited to mystery writers, but it's also far from universally true. More importantly, a character's physical characteristics are usually their least important traits.
2. If you're doing a good job with your fiction, your protagonist is his/her own person.
Characters must be true to themselves. They must behave in ways that make sense for them, react as they would if they were real people, and so on. If every character in a book or story is just the author, then the piece is full of copies of a single person with many names and so will not be very entertaining.
3. You can't stop some readers from believing this.
Don't even try. Lee Child is a rangy, fit-looking, six-foot-five writer. Jack Reacher, the protagonist of his many fine novels, is a superhumanly fit, superhumanly strong, insanely great fighter and marksman who is also six-foot-five. I've listened to fans at Bouchercon confuse the two--while staring at Child. I don't know Child, but I'm pretty darn sure he's not Reacher.
No matter what you say, some readers will make this mistake--which leads me to...
4. Don't worry about this crap.
It's nothing but noise in the system. Tell your story the best you can. Make every character be as realistic a person as you can manage. Build real worlds. Stay consistent with the rules of those worlds. Do everything as well as you can, and ignore the rest. You can control what you write. That's all you can control.
Sure, some parts of you will seep onto every page. That's part of what readers want. There are no new plots, but there are constantly new writers delivering them. Trying to entirely hide yourself in fiction is a pointless, futile exercise, so don't bother.
Do your best. Ignore the rest.
October 2, 2010
The Social Network
is one of the most intelligent, engrossing films I've seen in a very long time, a feat made all the more amazing by the fact that it contains so few sympathetic characters. Writer Aaron Sorkin and Director David Fincher make a great team, as Sorkin's trademark rapid-fire dialog and Fincher's strong visual style pull you in and never let you go.
By way of full disclosure, I must confess here to being a stone Sorkin fan. If the man wrote a script about doing laundry, I'd watch the film version of it.
On the other hand, I'm not a big Jesse Eisenberg fan, but I also have to say that his performance in this movie was wonderful. At turns detached and fully engaged, insecure and arrogant, and technically brilliant while socially challenged, he is always running on a combustible mix of intellect and anger. Even more impressive is the fact that he sustains this performance while being on screen almost the entire film.
I'm not going to bother to recap the story because either you already know what it's about or you probably won't enjoy the film. I will note that it's rather amazing that we're watching an adaptation of historical events that started a whole seven years ago; time is certainly flying ever faster.
If The Social Network doesn't garner at least four Oscar nominations--Director, Original Screenplay, Actor, and Best Picture--it'll be a crime. Go see it.
By way of full disclosure, I must confess here to being a stone Sorkin fan. If the man wrote a script about doing laundry, I'd watch the film version of it.
On the other hand, I'm not a big Jesse Eisenberg fan, but I also have to say that his performance in this movie was wonderful. At turns detached and fully engaged, insecure and arrogant, and technically brilliant while socially challenged, he is always running on a combustible mix of intellect and anger. Even more impressive is the fact that he sustains this performance while being on screen almost the entire film.
I'm not going to bother to recap the story because either you already know what it's about or you probably won't enjoy the film. I will note that it's rather amazing that we're watching an adaptation of historical events that started a whole seven years ago; time is certainly flying ever faster.
If The Social Network doesn't garner at least four Oscar nominations--Director, Original Screenplay, Actor, and Best Picture--it'll be a crime. Go see it.
October 1, 2010
On the road again: Portland, day 5
I'm never going to be thrilled at the prospect of waking up in the sixes, but this morning went about as well as one could reasonably expect. Traffic was light on the way to the airport, so I actually reached the gate seven minutes ahead of my plan--which always leaves plenty of slack for error.
The plane flights were also all anyone could reasonably hope for: on time, uneventful, and, thanks to being in first class and the presence of bandwidth on the first leg, friendly to work. I do love my airplane bandwidth.
I'm exhausted, so I'll leave you with a little music, a song I've flagged before, but this time with the official video.
Enjoy.
The plane flights were also all anyone could reasonably hope for: on time, uneventful, and, thanks to being in first class and the presence of bandwidth on the first leg, friendly to work. I do love my airplane bandwidth.
I'm exhausted, so I'll leave you with a little music, a song I've flagged before, but this time with the official video.
Enjoy.
September 30, 2010
On the road again: Portland, day 4
I forgot to mention one other interesting event yesterday: the fine folks at Intel filmed another of the videos of me answering questions about tech stuff. They even let me push Children No More and the child soldiers rehabilitation and reintegration work with Falling Whistles. I don't know when they'll finish editing the video and take it live, but as soon as they tell me it's available, I'll pass on the news.
Work is, as always, confidential, so most of the day must remain off limits.
Dinner was at June, a place new enough that, to my amazement, it still doesn't have a Web site. We went there because Daniel Monduk, the chef and owner of Sel Gris, a Portland restaurant I loved, was working there after he was unable to reopen Sel Gris after a series of disasters (as best I understand it, none of them his fault) kept closing it. Given how much we liked Monduk's food, we were hoping he had a big hand in the fare at June.
On a first reading, the menu was promising and very much in the style of many Portland restaurants: short, vague descriptions that sound enticing and that also clearly conceal something of what's going on in the dish.
The food we tasted, though, was uniformly not as good as we had hoped. Frequently, as in the noodles with spicy lamb, one ingredient (in this case and rather unfortunately, fennel) overwhelmed the dish. The corn chowder was superb, the crab meat stuffed in the large pepper sitting on it was okay, and the pepper itself was a non-entity. In almost each dish, we felt they went one ingredient too far. Sadly, nothing about the main meal left us wanting to use up one of our precious Portland dinners with a return trip.
The best things we tasted were the two desserts we tried, an apple cobbler with cinnamon ice cream and a butterscotch pudding. Those would almost--but not quite--tempt us back.
I hope to read one day that June has reached the potential of its chef de cuisine, but right now, it does not compete well with the best Portland has to offer.
Work is, as always, confidential, so most of the day must remain off limits.
Dinner was at June, a place new enough that, to my amazement, it still doesn't have a Web site. We went there because Daniel Monduk, the chef and owner of Sel Gris, a Portland restaurant I loved, was working there after he was unable to reopen Sel Gris after a series of disasters (as best I understand it, none of them his fault) kept closing it. Given how much we liked Monduk's food, we were hoping he had a big hand in the fare at June.
On a first reading, the menu was promising and very much in the style of many Portland restaurants: short, vague descriptions that sound enticing and that also clearly conceal something of what's going on in the dish.
The food we tasted, though, was uniformly not as good as we had hoped. Frequently, as in the noodles with spicy lamb, one ingredient (in this case and rather unfortunately, fennel) overwhelmed the dish. The corn chowder was superb, the crab meat stuffed in the large pepper sitting on it was okay, and the pepper itself was a non-entity. In almost each dish, we felt they went one ingredient too far. Sadly, nothing about the main meal left us wanting to use up one of our precious Portland dinners with a return trip.
The best things we tasted were the two desserts we tried, an apple cobbler with cinnamon ice cream and a butterscotch pudding. Those would almost--but not quite--tempt us back.
I hope to read one day that June has reached the potential of its chef de cuisine, but right now, it does not compete well with the best Portland has to offer.
September 29, 2010
On the road again: Portland, day 3
Today was one of those work travel days that started quite early and will run quite late, with work pelting me like a hurricane. So, is it any surprise that during a break in the action we popped into Voodoo Doughnut, each got one of these
and ate it? Yes, that is the famous Maple Bacon Donut!
And, before you can ask, yes, it tastes good, damn good, bacon-y good.
Dinner tonight was a late meal (8:45 seating, which then started half an hour late) at the wonderful Beast. At this warm restaurant, you sit at one of two long tables and so end up discussing your meal with those around you, as you would at home. The small staff prepares the food right in front of you, dancing or swaying much of the time to rock songs they like (tonight, an 80's mix). The menu is fixed, and they don't do substitutions; you show up and eat what they serve.
I love it.
Tonight's highlight was a small foie bon-bon on a personal charcuterie plate, but the pheasant pot pie was also amazing. In fact, every single dish was at least good and often downright delicioius.
Beast is another must-eat place when you're in Portland.
and ate it? Yes, that is the famous Maple Bacon Donut!
And, before you can ask, yes, it tastes good, damn good, bacon-y good.
Dinner tonight was a late meal (8:45 seating, which then started half an hour late) at the wonderful Beast. At this warm restaurant, you sit at one of two long tables and so end up discussing your meal with those around you, as you would at home. The small staff prepares the food right in front of you, dancing or swaying much of the time to rock songs they like (tonight, an 80's mix). The menu is fixed, and they don't do substitutions; you show up and eat what they serve.
I love it.
Tonight's highlight was a small foie bon-bon on a personal charcuterie plate, but the pheasant pot pie was also amazing. In fact, every single dish was at least good and often downright delicioius.
Beast is another must-eat place when you're in Portland.
September 28, 2010
On the road again: Portland, day 2
You know I can't talk about work stuff, so don't even ask.
There, aren't you glad we got that out of the way?
Now, on to the bits I can discuss.
One of those is my unusual room in this pleasant but distinctly odd little downtown boutique hotel. The strangeness begins with the door. (If you can't read the title on it, click on the photo, and you'll get a much larger image. I almost always upload large images for your ease of viewing.)
I've never thought of myself as a Chateau Bianca kind of guy, but perhaps it's time to reconsider that aspect of myself.
Or not.
Open the door, and to the immediate left is the closet. Hanging in the closet is this pair of robes and, should one want to buy them, matching pjs and complementary socks.
Oh, yeah: I'll be purchasing the complete room outfit just in case I someday need a Halloween costume of Hugh Hefner visiting Elvis' jungle room (a meeting that I'm not aware of ever happening but that certainly should have occurred).
The room itself is downright cavernous, larger, I'm convinced, than my old NYC apartment. Check out the view from down by the bathroom (which is opposite the door).
Note the two widescreen, HD televisions. Look carefully, and you'll see that the nearer one is facing slightly away from the bed. I had to do that because otherwise the remote control by the bed would turn on and off both TVs.
I'm all for stereo, but that was not working for me.
Now consider the space from the other side of my bed.
Note the teddy bear. No, I'm not going to buy it, but if I get in a bad enough and lonely enough mood, that sucker might just end up...no, I refuse to say; you can imagine its fate--and don't blame me for where your sick imagination just went.
To find the bathroom in the dark, you either have to turn on a nightlight in it, hire a local guide to sleep by the foot of your bed and lead you should you have to go, or risk inflicting grievous bodily injury on yourself as you crash into the desk.
I'm here on business, so I'm not going to say which option I chose.
There goes your imagination again. Stop that.
On to dinner, which was at the wonderful Le Pigeon. I had the pigeon and foie appetizer, the duck, and shared the foie gras profiteroles and sesame devil's food cake, and as always, every single bite was delicious. As I was sitting in the small restaurant between courses, wondering why I liked it so much, I realized that in odd ways it reminded me of sitting alone at night writing: the chefs were doing something they loved, music was playing, and all felt right with the world. Le Pigeon is one of my all-time favorite places to eat. If you live in Portland or are traveling there, do yourself a favor: do not miss this place.
There, aren't you glad we got that out of the way?
Now, on to the bits I can discuss.
One of those is my unusual room in this pleasant but distinctly odd little downtown boutique hotel. The strangeness begins with the door. (If you can't read the title on it, click on the photo, and you'll get a much larger image. I almost always upload large images for your ease of viewing.)
I've never thought of myself as a Chateau Bianca kind of guy, but perhaps it's time to reconsider that aspect of myself.
Or not.
Open the door, and to the immediate left is the closet. Hanging in the closet is this pair of robes and, should one want to buy them, matching pjs and complementary socks.
Oh, yeah: I'll be purchasing the complete room outfit just in case I someday need a Halloween costume of Hugh Hefner visiting Elvis' jungle room (a meeting that I'm not aware of ever happening but that certainly should have occurred).
The room itself is downright cavernous, larger, I'm convinced, than my old NYC apartment. Check out the view from down by the bathroom (which is opposite the door).
Note the two widescreen, HD televisions. Look carefully, and you'll see that the nearer one is facing slightly away from the bed. I had to do that because otherwise the remote control by the bed would turn on and off both TVs.
I'm all for stereo, but that was not working for me.
Now consider the space from the other side of my bed.
Note the teddy bear. No, I'm not going to buy it, but if I get in a bad enough and lonely enough mood, that sucker might just end up...no, I refuse to say; you can imagine its fate--and don't blame me for where your sick imagination just went.
To find the bathroom in the dark, you either have to turn on a nightlight in it, hire a local guide to sleep by the foot of your bed and lead you should you have to go, or risk inflicting grievous bodily injury on yourself as you crash into the desk.
I'm here on business, so I'm not going to say which option I chose.
There goes your imagination again. Stop that.
On to dinner, which was at the wonderful Le Pigeon. I had the pigeon and foie appetizer, the duck, and shared the foie gras profiteroles and sesame devil's food cake, and as always, every single bite was delicious. As I was sitting in the small restaurant between courses, wondering why I liked it so much, I realized that in odd ways it reminded me of sitting alone at night writing: the chefs were doing something they loved, music was playing, and all felt right with the world. Le Pigeon is one of my all-time favorite places to eat. If you live in Portland or are traveling there, do yourself a favor: do not miss this place.
September 27, 2010
On the road again: Portland, day 1
Nothing says fun like leaving the house at 6:15 a.m. to head to the airport.
Actually, pretty much anything says fun better than that, but nonetheless, this morning I left at that godawful hour. Travel pretty much ate the rest of the day, though thanks to bandwidth on the plane and the Admirals Club during a huge layover in DFW I was able to stay current with work.
Lest I appear ungrateful, I must also hasten to add that the flights themselves were spectacularly better than any of my other recent trips: I was in First Class on both legs, both were early, and no one bothered me while I worked.
I did lose a little over an hour to hassling with AT&T a company I won't name that had terrible, inefficient, offensively incompetent inadequate customer service, but at least we finally resolved the issue and I didn't spontaneously convert to energy, flow down the phone line, zip through the switches, rematerialize, rip the head off the incompetent "helpers," and laugh as I pissed on the bloody stumps. So, it's all good now.
Dinner was a very pleasant meal at the Laurelhurst Market Restaurant. The foie torchon appetizer, which we split, was the high point. The meal was good enough that I'd be willing to go back--but not strong enough that I'm at all tempted to add the place to my standard Portland rotation.
Now, more work, and then, finally, some sleep.
Actually, pretty much anything says fun better than that, but nonetheless, this morning I left at that godawful hour. Travel pretty much ate the rest of the day, though thanks to bandwidth on the plane and the Admirals Club during a huge layover in DFW I was able to stay current with work.
Lest I appear ungrateful, I must also hasten to add that the flights themselves were spectacularly better than any of my other recent trips: I was in First Class on both legs, both were early, and no one bothered me while I worked.
I did lose a little over an hour to hassling with AT&T a company I won't name that had terrible, inefficient, offensively incompetent inadequate customer service, but at least we finally resolved the issue and I didn't spontaneously convert to energy, flow down the phone line, zip through the switches, rematerialize, rip the head off the incompetent "helpers," and laugh as I pissed on the bloody stumps. So, it's all good now.
Dinner was a very pleasant meal at the Laurelhurst Market Restaurant. The foie torchon appetizer, which we split, was the high point. The meal was good enough that I'd be willing to go back--but not strong enough that I'm at all tempted to add the place to my standard Portland rotation.
Now, more work, and then, finally, some sleep.
My appearance on SF in SF: you can watch it now
Ticia recorded the event and then secured permission from Amelia Beamer and Rina Weisman to post them. I've embedded the six parts below.
I should note that I haven't watched them, but I know that Ticia had to work from the audience and we had boom mikes in front of our faces, so I expect the audio may suffer from time to time. I also don't know if the pieces below are in chronological order; as I said, I haven't looked at them yet.
Enjoy!
I should note that I haven't watched them, but I know that Ticia had to work from the audience and we had boom mikes in front of our faces, so I expect the audio may suffer from time to time. I also don't know if the pieces below are in chronological order; as I said, I haven't looked at them yet.
Enjoy!
