Linkery Linkee-poo mostly about writing - or at least other writers

The Ferrett pretty well mirrors my own course in why I write short stories. There was a post (somewhere, sorry, lost the link) that explained that there was the possibility of about 500 or so short story slots in a year. However, there were over 5000 SF/F books published last year. Your chances of being published as a novelist is much greater than as a short story writer. (numbers from memory, which, with the drugs, has been very fallible lately).

Tobias talks about "butt in chair" time. While I quibble a little on this, nothing beats having ones butt in chair at similar times every damn day. I've done both (butt in chair versus I'm inspired to write). Having several jobs I know that having a set schedule isn't going to work (unless it's 10pm - 1am - at which point I'm usually trying to sleep). And this past month's heath issues have kept me away from producing words on a regular basis. However, if you can manage it with your time, "butt in chair" does work, and it works well. For this year I've tried to schedule all my government meetings at the beginning of the month so I can have the second half to put my butt in the chair.

I'm really blessed with smart friends of all political stripes. In fact, just gave a bone to my direct boss, who when he commented, "You pinched that nerve yourself, now you've got to live with the consequences" (on my commenting that I love the extra pain sensations that come in aftershocks from an unexpected sneeze) and I replied back, "But I'm a liberal, I don't believe I should live with the consequences of my actions." Gotta have a sense of humor about your own self and those around you. I don't always agree with everybody about everything (even people nominally on "my side" of an issue), and that doesn't make those people wrong. Much of it has to do with perspective and their own histories. And I'm also blessed that many of those friends write their own blog posts on topics I really wanted to say something about.

So here's Jim Wright on the myth of common sense. What he said. And as I posted in the comments over there, "common sense" is the "family values" of the twenty-teens.

Jay Lake points to a letter by Roger Ebert addressed to Rush Limbaugh. What he said. (what follows is interior fantasy) It's possibly the drugs breaking down my barriers of humanity and keying into the "angry young man" I used to be, but lately I've been thinking to myself, "So they want to position themselves as 'fighting a war' for values? Well, I know how to do that. I was trained in cointel. And I know which heads need venting to let sunshine in" (because, of course, I'm correct and all these other people are on the wrong side of history /irony). I'm sure it's the drugs. And fortunately, I don't own firearms. (yet).

And speaking of Jay, he pens a great fantasy on the larval stages of the common American speculative fiction writer. If you're not chuckling by the end of it, you haven't been doing this long enough (and I take the rip on Romance and Horror writers as good natured joshing). For me, I skipped the "Conspiracy Theory of Publishing" by 1) being yelled at to join the Haskell/Kletcha Klutch, and 2) thinking, "fuck it, I can do that." And right now I exist in that limbo between the "My friends are selling" and "Opps, I sold something." But without the homicidal part of the former. No. Really. I like you all. Stop staring at me and put down the phone. I said I don't own any firearms.

(yet)

Speedy Update

Quick thoughts and updates:

I have my approval for MRI, will be scheduling that tomorrow. Appointment with Orthopedic Doctor on Monday. Trying Aleve on advice from coworker. So far, hmmm, might work. We'll see how we sleep on it.

The election in MA isn't quite what many people are making it out to be. Especially the talking heads (on both sides). The exit polls and other survey data show a much more complex picture. edited to correct that no exit polls occurred in the MA special election (nod to Cassie for pointing that out)

The day job continues to provide such fun enough that I'm using antacids more (although that could also be with amounts of painkillers I'm taking).

Robert Parker died yesterday. I came late to his works (reading and listening to them for the WIP). Muscular prose and directness. From what is being told he died doing what he loved, at his writing desk.

Also yesterday was E.A. Poe's birthday. I guess the mysterious mourner didn't show.

Confusion - Not So Much

I suck. Last night was very bad and this morning isn't so good either. I really had been hoping to get into the orthopedic doctor this week (am still trying to). This morning, on the way into work, I sneezed and nearly went off the road.

So I'm not going to be able to see all my friends this weekend. Making the four hour drive into Detroit just isn't going to work if every bump I cross sends spasms of pain across my right shoulder (just thinking about I-80 right now sends shivers down my spine). Add in the inability to find a comfortable sleeping position and laying awake for a couple hours each night waiting for the over-the-counter pain meds to kick in and I'll be exhausted again by this weekend. Convensions normally drain me of any energy I have. So even if I could make it up there, I don't think I'd be able to make it back on Sunday. Driving cross-eyed, half dead, brain fuzzy, along a fairly straight strip of asphault, in approaching twighlight, probably not the best idea.

This really pisses me off. There were a lot of things going on that I wanted to be a part of this weekend, meeting up with the Haskell/Kletcha Clutch, a book launch party, seeing my friends from other convensions who were going to be at this one this year, meeting up with everybody I know and have met there (hell, I finally have a book for Karl Schroeder to autograph), hanging out with all of you all (hell, I know more people at this convention than I know from any other), meeting the twins, just all kinds of things and that's before we get to the actual programming of the con (which looks great, again), and the obligatory hanging-out in the bar (where excellent things have happened every year I've been there).

But really, I'm not fun to be around at the moment. Last night I was crabby at my wife for no real reason. Laughing actually hurts. As in serious pain. The drugs are making me woozy and scatter brained, I would probably be heading to the bed at 10pm instead of my usual 1-3am.

(redacted - long string of cursing and kicking of objects including small kittens)

Sorry everybody. Wish I could make the party, but don't think I can. (If a miracle occurs, I'll change my mind).

edit since I wrote this, I now have an orthopedic appointment on Monday instead of Thursday the 28th.

More on why I think we need an even larger overhaul of the healthcare industry

Okay, this post I've been working on for the past week in the moments when I didn't feel like ripping my arm off, ala the Black Knight in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, to end the pain. And now that I'm referred to an orthopedist for my pain and the first appointment I can get is on the 28th (or a week and a half away for those reading this later). I have one percocet left. I don't think it's going to make it. I'm taking enough tylenol on top of it that I'm concerned about the side effects (I already have the loose stool, next up, hole in stomach and possible heart attack!). And I can't see somebody for another week and a half? Tell me again how we have the best system in the world. Oh yeah, don't forget that at this point I'm down a few hundred and if we go through the whole MRI scenario, that will increase exponentially.

And then I'll have another pre-existing condition to boot.

The other night I had to play the alternate liaison to a local small government agency (actually, an NGO, but we have weird rules here in the US). And, as it is elsewhere, it was time for the health insurance renewal.

They run on an HSA (Healthcare Savings Account) that is set up this way. The first $250/500 a year is the patient's responsibility. After that they are reimbursed. Up to $2500/5000 is the responsibility of the "Savings" part of the deal (which the entity coughs up, pays through the insurance broker for an extra fee, I don't know if the employees contribute to that amount or not, but it doesn't matter for this example). And then anything over $2750/5500 the insurance covers at 100% (in network, our of network is a cost sharing, 60/40 if memory serves).

Okay, so we all have got that. Let's bring it down to just the individual and leave the spouse and family out of the numbers from now on. So, for the first $2750 the individual spends on healthcare that money comes from either the individual's own pocket or from the organization's saving plan set up in the name of the individual. Now, anything over that amount, that's when the insurance actually starts kicking in (not a cent beforehand, though).

We had all the data on the individuals, there's 8 of them, and what they spent (but not what on). One person spent nothing (or less than $250), one person met the $2750 out of pocket (but there was no figure for how much over they went), but overall each person averaged about $1200 still in their account (including the person who spent zero and the person who spent all of it). We're clear here, only one person would have received any moneys directly from the insurance policy.

For the eight employees the insurance cost per month was roughly $4500 (or $54,000 a year). Now, there are two spouses included and one family, so that brings the cost a little higher. And let me say here, that's not bad. Of course, that's a "high deductible" plan and the cost for the employer is higher as they're covering the $2500 per person savings plan (I'm pretty sure, but again, not fully sure it's not shared between the employer and employee).

How much do you think their insurance increased? Again, remember, only one person ended up using it (and while we didn't have any numbers on how much they used, there was no table talk of "well, they had some problems this year").

Did you guess 24%? Okay, well, since they increased the deductible to $3500, only 23.75%. So now they'll be over $5580 (lowest increase) per month for the insurance premiums (depending on the options, the could save as much at $4200 a year or least than one months premium, and that's by increasing their exposure by 150%).

So I asked for what's called "the experience." That's the number of how much was paid into the plan versus how much was paid out. The answer we got back from the broker was, "Normally they don't provide such numbers for a group as small as yours."

WTF. It's not like they have to wake up an accountant who dusts off their green shade and cracks the books with a pencil. Hey, how about we're your frickin' customer and we're demanding an account review. Are you telling me they didn't have this number ready when they decided to up the premium by 24%? If they didn't, I'm willing to call shenanigans. And if they did, hey, it's a frickin' copy paste function. They have keyboard shortcuts to help out with that.

Tell me again why this industry doesn't need an enema. Because, frankly, it needs flushed. Or at least that's what it smells like to me.

Sunday follies

The prednisone has run its course and I still have pain. The percocet is almost gone as well. This isn't good. So tomorrow we'll call the doctor and see what's to be done next. Pain is not a good way to live.

I certainly hope they find something soon.

Today we finished putting away the Xmas decorations. All boxed and stored away, awaiting another season. Note to self, I need to fix some of the light strings before next year.

Tomorrow we need to prepare for the couch delivery on Tuesday. That will mean some heavy lifting and cleaning. This week is almost fully scheduled with the addition of having to run various errands. And at the end of the week is Confusion in Detroit. I really wanted to be pain free for that, but now I'm not so sure that's going to happen.

Late in the day post

Spent the day undecorating. Took down the tree, hauled in the outside decorations into the garage to dry. Getting things read for the delivery of the new couch.

There's still a lot of pain and this morning I slept till this afternoon. I really hope this pain stops sometime soon.

Outside the weather decided to range up into the thirties so we could pull up the stakes. The mud-stained snow tracked into the garage with the wire decorations. Rhythmic push-broom sweeps brushed it out on top of the snow piles. The inflatable snowman billows in solitary stance.

Did I mention the drugs?

Anyway, here's hoping tomorrow is a little more sane.

A Few Linkee-poo

Of possible interest only to me, but here's a cool blog devoted to letterhead. It get my design geek on. Lots of historically interesting (even if not so designy) things there. Includes many Disney letterheads during the promotion of their classic movies. (Grokked form Jay Lake who linked to the Hindenburg Letterhead).

An old article form Patrick Rothfuss on deadlines, success, and the process. With cartoons. It's form last February, but I just found it (grokked from Anne Zanoni).

On losing weight

General update. I keep bouncing above 300. With the change over to the extended release formula of the metformin I started to gain weight. So we're adjusting when I take it (before seeing if I can go back to the regular formulation).

But one of the things I hate is if I feel hungry, this little voice in my head comes in and say, "That's good. You should feel hungry. That's the signal your body is processing the fat." And it counter acts any thoughts of going for a snack.

Hate that little voice. Especially when I know there's Sour Cream and Onion Potato Chips down in the vending machine. Hate that voice.

One toe over the line

edited to include this link to Hullabaloo (grokked from Jay Lake)

Before it gets too far down the road and I haven't commented on it. America's Crazy Uncle Pat spoke up yesterday on the cause of the Haitian earthquake. See, it has nothing to do with an active Earth and tectonic plates that in the Atlantic are sliding along each other. Nothing about how they tense and release.

For Pat it's all about his god. And I say his god (lower "g") intentionally, because I don't think his god is whom most Christians believe are their God. For Crazy Uncle Pat's god is a vengeful SoB.

According to Pat, the Haitians are suffering because their ancestors made a pact with the Devil to rid their country of the French. This would have been done back at the end of the 18th or very early in the 19th centuries (as I remember, French colonial rule ended around 1804). And that's why god decided, almost two centuries later, to shake the bejeezus out of an impoverished island which was already having medical and food emergencies.

Not only is Pat's god a vengeful SoB, he's also chronically late to the show. He's also not all powerful, after all, the Haitians did kick the French out. Which, following Pat's logic here, shows that Satan is stronger than the God-Fearing French. That's a pretty startling admission from someone who for years preached that Satan has no powers in the world, and that his god is always triumphant.

This next paragraph has been edited (bold text) to make it clearer whom I'm talking to, in the comments I've realized I didn't make it clear in the original post. (edited 01-14-10 3pm)

So let me take a page from the former administration, until I hear the rest of the self proclaimed leaders and spokespeople of the Christian Community actively and loudly denouncing this windbag, I'm going to assume they don't have a problem with him and actually support his views. He is giving your religion a bad name. You think Imams and Islamic leaders need to denounce terrorism and terrorist to distance themselves from the whackaloon contingent on their flanks. Well, me buckos, it's time to clean your own temple of the moneychangers. "Oh, that's just Pat being Pat," won't cut it anymore. I want to hear you all say that Pat Robertson is not a Christian as you understand Christ.

And to Pat, since saying this one way wouldn't make sense to you, let me say it this way. Your god is waiting to call you home. Pick up the phone.

Writing Based Linkee-poo

A few editors are posting things about their slush piles reading. First is Christopher East over at Futurismic on why we reject stories (grokked from Tobias Buckell who linked to another article that led me to this page). And next we have Keven J. Anderson with his view form the slushpile (grokked from the Brandie Tarvin).

Here's an interesting piece about some societal experimentation on what's popular (Wired Magazine). And a Futurismic article on it for the light version. Seems that popularity is somewhat a product of peer review (although they classify it as "luck" it's more of peer pressure thing). This is why, as a creator/author, when you have something coming out that generating "buzz" is so damn important (besides the necessity of early sales numbers). (grokked from Tobias Buckell - this is the original article he linked to).

Go and kill the yellow man

All these whackaloons who are calling for, "can we just start profiling now" are your basic, "Why can't we just be racist like we used to be," types. No. Shut up. They are.

Why? What does a Muslim look like? No, I'm serious. Do you think they get it tattooed on their foreheads? I've known followers of Islam who were more bunt-cake, flour-white, suburban kids than Bill O'Reilly (which, since we're profiling here, put down the whiskey, Bill, get back to work, don't give the Irish a bad name, again, and disavow your IRA ties now, before we come for you). Are we going to make them wear yellow crescent-moons sewn into their garments so we can tell them apart from the other God-fearin' 'Mericans (50 extra bonus points if you get the Godwin reference here)? Are we going to profile "araby types" because that would have missed Umar Abdulmutallab who is a black Nigerian (a little too swarthy if you get my meaning). It also would have missed Richard Reed, the other "I've got a bomb in my clothes for you, baby" guy. Are we going to get sly TSA officials to ask the questions when you go through port control like the bridge guardian in Monty Python's Holy Grail.

"Those who wish to cross the TSA line of demarcation must answer me these questions three, 'ere the boarding area they see. What is your name?"

"Umar Abdulmutallab."

"What is your quest?"

"To destroy the imperial west."

"Are you a radical muslim?"

"No. I mean, yes. ARGH!"

Really. If it's not racism, I can't figure out what it would be. Because the only other answer is that these people, who hold positions of some prominence, are clinically brain dead.

Think profiling will stop the terrorists? Nope. John Walker Lindh. Remember him? The American Taliban. Probably as white-bread as you can get. Timothy McVeigh? The other white meat. As Wednesday said in the movie The Adams Family when asked what her costume was supposed to be, "I'm a serial killer, we look just like everybody else."

Now, there are some ways, but they're not fool-proof. If you're highly trained enough you might be able to spot some tell-tales. I usually can spot someone who has been in the military from the way they walk (well, that and their clothes, etc). I can even make a reasonable guess at the branch and relative rank. But here's the thing, since I know what I'm looking for, in my own case, I intentionally break all those tell-tales. No b-line on me buddy boy. No precision in step. Nothing to really give me away. And that's the problem. You can train against that kind of screening.

Back-scatter x-rays? There's these things called body cavities. You can hide some interesting things in them (ask your local prison inmate or drug mule). Poof machines? Worked well in the lab, but strangely enough when in the real world with real conditions such as air movement from HVAC systems and the perfumes and other things normal people wear, not so well. Maybe if they pray at the airport with prayer rugs? Hey, remember the 9-11 report that talked about the guys being instructed to go to strip-clubs to throw off suspicion? And if all that remains is pulling people over for having scraggly beards, whell, there's a Gillete razor for that.

Nothing is fool proof. As we used to say, we have to be lucky 100% of the time, the terrorists only have to be lucky once. Terrorists, they're the new Red Scare Communists. Get 'em while they're hot.

Misc

Felt a little better today with the prednisone. Tonight a little reversal, but not much. Probably due to taking the third dose late.

A little woozy from the oxycodone. So stringing words together is not exactly my forte at the moment.

A lot of people talk about how they have issues with friending their Mom or SO or whomever. What about your boss? Hmm? I'm on linked-in (don't use it much) and lately all my coworkers have been showing up and inviting me into their networks. And now it keeps recommending my boss to me. So, not like he's on facebook (he may be, I don't know), or as a twitter-pal, but I still haven't hit the invite button yet.

Just trying to make it through the week. Although I'm not feeling itchy for not writing in so long.

Have to report back to the doctors this week. So hopefully tomorrow will be better.

Like I said, not focused. Wish I could take vicodin. That whole paranoid delusion thing isn't worth it though.

Tomorrow I should be better focused. I have been writing posts in the two minute intervals I get when I can type before the pain starts and between what is becoming a hectic work week (need to save up the arm for the paying stuff).

I know this post is wondering wandering, but I can't help it at the moment. And I wanted to get a post out tonight. Tomorrow. I'll be more focused tomorrow.