Wanna Be Sedated

From an article in New York magazine, by Jennifer Senior:

In 2005, a psychiatrist at King's College London did a study in which one group was asked to take an IQ test while doing nothing, and a second group to take an IQ test while distracted by e-mails and ringing telephones. The uninterrupted group did better by an average of ten points, which wasn't much of a surprise. What was a surprise is that the e-mailers also did worse, by an average of six points, than a group in a similar study that had been tested while stoned.

Crap - that's bad. Your IQ is lower while constantly interrupted than while stoned? (What about constantly interrupted and stoned? Someone should test that.) I read a lot about writers who write with the TV or radio on, who can't write without music or whatever, and I think I'm crazy. I can't have anything at all when I write - my ideal location is a sensory deprivation chamber. I can't focus with noise of any kind. Now I know why.

Funny, 'cos I work in a cubicle farm, and the interruptions are nonstop all day. If we could turn the phones off, we'd all be geniuses.

One more thing about James Bond - off topic, because I can't concentrate. As much as I adored it, I'm glad Clive Owen didn't take the role. It just wasn't... Clive. Ya know?

Still... Clive in a tux instead of his scruffy, unkempt suit in Children of Men. Le sigh.

My weekend...

I couldn't resist posting the pic (yowza!) as I went and saw the new Bond movie last night. So I'm jumping on the large bandwagon of people who recommend it.

Like most women, I've never much been interested in Bond. The cars and gadgets don't do it for me, and he treats women like dirt (which is OK because the women are always evil anyway.) He's a character purely aimed at men, which is why this is so refreshing, because they finally decided to invite the other half of the population to come see the movie.

They also decided to dig deeper into the character, strip away a lot of the useless crap, and make him interesting. Without giving anything away, in this movie Bond a) has flaws, b) makes mistakes, c) figures shit out the hard way, d) gets deceived more than once. He's also brilliant, cold, lonely, and (despite that yummy body) physically frightening. Sure, he looks nice in a jacket, but he can kill a guy with his bare hands - something we actually see him do. So, an interesting mix for a character. Kudos to the writers.

Oh, and the directing rocked - especially the action scenes.

Go see it. You'll like it.

Shall Remain Nameless

Author Jenny Crusie has blogged about her hate-on for Miss Snark due to Miss Snark being an anonymous blogger.

...you can pretty much lob any bomb you want and then slink away into the night while everybody else takes the hit, so you have no accountability and no credibility.

The original dispute is way too boring to recite here, but I was puzzled at the slug at anonymous people on the net. Really, if we were to get rid of all the anonymous people, there would be no one left in cyberspace. Is Bookseller Chick a coward, too? 'Cos it seems like Bookseller Chick is just someone who has a day job she does not want to get fired from. As are a lot of anonymous people on the net. Being anonymous does not make you good, bad, or evil. It just makes you someone whose identity is nobody's business.

Then something twigged in my memory and on Crusie's bio page I found: "... the second book published under the Crusie pseudonym." So no one knows Jenny Crusie's real name either. Would Miss Snark be more honourable if she called her blog "Betty Williams" instead of "Miss Snark"? Why? What the hell is the difference? Why does my head hurt?

Personally, I don't care what anybody's name is. Most romance authors write under a pseudonym and I could care less; I just want books to read. I like reading blogs, too, and I don't care if your name is Henry or Dwight or Judy. Henry, Dwight, or Judy can lie just as easily as someone called Anonymous. In every situation, it's always reader beware.

Off to find aspirin,
Abby

How to Write a Blog

The topic is Sara Peretsky's new book.

Listen:

First off, it's $10. WTF? I like V. I. Warshawski, but not that much. Second, it's "Specially designed for comfortable reading"--which means that it is the same width as a normal mass market, but slightly taller by about 3/4". This translates to not fitting comfortably in the inside pocket of my jean jacket. How am I supposed to take this book on the subway?!

I know this is a new trend, especially because it gives the publisher a higher return on their investment, and it gives the author more money in royalties ($.799 on a $9.99 book instead of $.559 on a $6.99 book, although I imagine Sara Paretsky's royalties are higher than 8%, but whatever), but I disapprove. Instead of enjoying the book, I now have to spend time figuring out how to hold it so it doesn't hurt my fingers, and also resenting that I'm being soaked for yet more money.

Can you guess who that is? If you've ever read her blog, even once, you can probably guess it's TOR editor Anna Genoese. How can you tell? The voice.

This is classic Anna Genoese - breathless, full of colloquialisms used to maximum effect, silly quotes effectively skewered, and exuberant punctuation. The content always mixes her wickedly mathematic brain (witness the off-the-cuff royalty calculations) and sharp insights into the publishing industry with the relentlessly personal (her sore fingers, her feelings of resentment). And we have the absurd humour that a large publishing company (which no one knows better than she herself) is committing an offense by refusing to consider Miss Genoese's jean jacket pocket when issuing a book.

What I am suggesting is that Anna Genoese, though she may not have thought about it in so many words, is - gasp - a writer.

You don't have to write books to be "a writer". You don't have to make a living writing to be "a writer". You have to write a lot; you have to use words to express yourself instead of another venue. It helps if you have a distinctive voice and a personal way with vocabulary and punctuation. It helps if you're good at it.

Blogs are not considered writing. Bloggers themselves don't consider it writing; they consider it goofing off. But there's a lot of interesting writing in the blogosphere, and the open-minded writer can learn a lot if she pays attention. Much of it is colloquial, and sounds a lot like dialogue, like Anna Genoese. People edit themselves less on a blog, and the result is more like written speech.

When I read blogs, it usually occurs to me that all letter-writers of the past thought nothing of their daily correspondence, while we in the present find their writings incredibly valuable. I wonder if people a century from now will think the same?

I Guess I was Thinking About It

So I stopped writing for 2 weeks, and today I sat down and wrote 19 pages so far. I'm about to go back to it, and if everything stays quiet I'll get another 10 in.

I don't know how many words that is, 'cos I did it longhand. Needless to say, I had the day off from the day job - no way this kind of writing gets done around work. I also went to the gym and figured out the entire outline of the third quarter of my book while on the treadmill. The whole thing - zap. Now I just have to write it.

So, you see, sometimes when you're not writing, you're writing. You know?

As for the partial request I got, if any of you are beginning queriers out there, let me point out two things: 1. it's from a query I sent in June and 2. it's from a different agent at the agency than the one I sent my query to. What can we learn from this, kids? Yep - querying is very weird and you have no control over what happens and the sooner you stop obsessing about it, the better off you are.

Oh, and in other news - I finally figured out RSS feeds. Could I be any more behind the times, one thinks? Perhaps next I'll apply myself to figuring out this curious "electronic-mail" device or this perplexing "word-processing" program or this innovative "switch" that claims to "turn on lights". I'm reserving my opinion on all three.

Back to writing...

The Book that Ate Me

Agh. After such a great run of reading on vacation, it's all gone off the rails.

I made the mistake of picking up an obscure literary novel that I bought from the remainder table and put on my pile a year ago. In an effort to tame my bookshelves, I tried reading it.

200 pages in, I realized that the plot is moving glacially, the writing is not particularly engrossing, the characters are all horribly depressed and it's really going to end badly all around, isn't it? And yet I keep reading it and reading it. Why?

Well, at 300 pages I'm over halfway through, so I kind of want to see this trainwreck to the end. But there's another reason that I've just realized.

Over the last two years, since I've been pursuing writing seriously, as a reader I've become some sort of abominable sponge that never fills up. With every book I read, I notice more and more - adjectives, dialogue tags, pace, word choice, voice. I'm soaking it all up with frightening energy. I'm like a person whose lifelong hearing disability has suddenly disappeared, and I'm thrilled to hear a car door slam a block away.

And this book - this book is like hearing all the nighttime car alarms and boring conversations and bad music that I couldn't hear before. The stuff that makes you wish you were deaf again. And as a writer I can't help but think that this is sort of instructional in its painful way. After all, how do we learn how to write without learning how not to write?

And boy, is this book teaching me that. Half a page of asking everyone what drink they want and pouring it for them? Help.

I have good books waiting for me, if I come out of the belly of the whale...

Quote of the day

Hey, I just got a partial request from a query I sent out in June! Right on with that.

Now, since I'm working on a new novel, I'm going to have to dig up the old one...

In the meantime, Kate Rothwell's dead-on skewer of the Regency Christmas romance:

Bring on some of Metzger's cute talking animals! A reformed sinner leading his former companions to a white Christmas in his country house! A jaded, rich lord who sees Christmas through a hired poor woman's eyes and falls in love (Balogh's specialty)! Prattling lisping children who transform the hardened rake into mush! The shy preacher who falls in love with the lady! The wounded withdrawn war hero who finds love with the shy governess! And lots and lots of snow in parts of England that rarely get more than a flake or two! Ending, one hopes, with the h/h standing by a window and seeing the Christmas Star.

I'm still laughing.

Anatomy of an Internet Flame War

Or, Why I Quit Reading Message Boards

POSTER 1: I make a comment, slightly interesting but not particularly original, that is entirely based on opinion, does not have a right or wrong answer, and contains the word "race" or "gay" or "virginity" or something equally ill-advised.

POSTER 2: I completely overreact with a personal attack!

POSTER 3: 2, you are an idiot. Anyone can see that 1 is right.

POSTER 2: I have a right to my personal opinion!

POSTER 4: I have an opinion that is different from 1 and 2's but is equally narrow-minded.

POSTER 5: I am insecure, so I have to jump in and lecture everyone with a set of facts in order to feel superior.

POSTER 2: I completely overreact! Now I call on incongruous logic in an attempt to prove my point.

POSTER 1. I point out that everyone misunderstood my original post, then I poke holes in 2's argument with an example that makes no sense.

POSTER 3. I agree with 1 again, though now I claim that everyone is entitled to their own opinion and "the world would be so dull if we all agreed" or something similar.

POSTER 6: I make a halfway logical point that everyone ignores.

POSTER 7: I have a stupid question?

POSTER 2: I am still overreacting, so I write an incredibly long, impassioned post that everyone skims.

POSTER 8: I am the only one who actually read 2's post, and I pick on a marginal point and blow it out of proportion.

POSTER 2: I have nothing to do with my time, so I start arguing with 8.

[2 and 8 go off on a back-and-forth tangent that no one reads]

ADMIN: Please quit it, guys.

POSTER 9: This flame war is shameful. It's all 1's fault, too!

POSTER 1: I am offended. I think it's 2's fault!

POSTER 2: [taking a break from arguing with 8] I declare in a huff that I will never come back here again. [Goes back to arguing with 8]

POSTER 10: I rehash some of the old opinions here, and tell a story from my life that is supposed to prove my opinion is right.

POSTER 11: I tell a story from my own life that disproves 10's story.

POSTER 12: Has anyone read the latest Dara Joy book? [is quickly hustled away by ADMIN]

[more posts that no one reads]
[more posts that no one reads]

[next thread begins]

Back, and freakish!

I'm back - had a fantastic time in the sun. I had blog withdrawal, though. Sad.

I would post pictures, but have temporarily lost my digital camera cable. Please Stand By.

In the meantime, the book reviews:

Unforgiven, the Silhouette Nocturne:
Well. Um. First off, I have to give kudos for the setting on this one - the entire thing takes place near an emerald mine in the jungle of Ecuador. (The plot involves two jaguar shape-shifters falling in love while battling the greedy owners and fighting for the Noble Poor.) There is no cop-out relocation to London or America - it stays in the jungle for the whole book. So, it deserves repeating, let's hear it for a cool, unusual setting.

As for the rest - well, maybe just not my cup of tea. I'll try not to be negative but here is a sample of the writing style that just didn't do it for me:

She saw Reno's jaw flex. "My destiny is with you, Calen," he declared. "And unless you tell me to leave, I'm going nowhere."

Sheets of relief cascaded through her. Closing her eyes for a moment, Calen let the feelings roll through her. "Good," she whispered, and opened her eyes. "Because I don't want anyone else at my side but you." Now and forever.

I'm actually not a very picky reader, especially when I'm lying by a pool. But I think I can find something wrong with every sentence here, from the flexing jaw to "declared" and the sheets of relief. The entire book is like this. And although the hero is part Native American and it's a Native-sensitive book, here's the depiction of Hispanic dialogue:

"Do not argue with me, gringo dog!" Cruz barely controlled his ire at the CIA agent's cojones. "Get out of my sight."

Gringo dog? Gringo dog? With cojones in the next sentence? This is more painful than Montezuma's Revenge.

To answer Therese's question, it doesn't get very dark at all. The shapeshifting is kinda neat but that's about it. Still, I'm going to give this line another try before I give up on it.

Next up is my nonfiction selection. Without reading Megan's recommendation, I coincidentally picked Freakonomics, which I liked a lot. It's nonfiction lite, which means it explains things pretty clearly and doesn't get too in-depth. Still, very interesting.

And finally, on the plane home, I finished His Majesty's Dragon, which I loved. What a terrific book! Big, meaty, fun, full of action, endlessly inventive. I'm a few pages into the second one and I hope I won't be disappointed.

Need I mention that I got no writing done on vacation? None at all.

Sigh. Back to the grindstone...