In which I regret my laziness

I haven't posted anything in a while, which makes a kind of sense, as I haven't written anything in a while either. I'm not stuck like I was before; I'm just inhabiting a zone of non-motivation at the moment. It comes and goes, like malaria.

The last thing I wrote was a scene about Sam waking up after the surgery on her hand. Alex is visiting her, I wrote something that didn't quite work, and that was that. Fixing things is no more difficult than deleting and then re-writing those half-dozen lines, so you'd think I would have done it by now. I suppose if little writing "breaks" like this were explainable, they'd also be avoidable and fixable too.

Interestingly, the long problem I had with completing Chapter 10 has come back to strike when I least expected it. Those half-dozen lines were the payoff I was looking forward to while trying to figure out how to set it up without tossing a wrench into the gears, and if that's not irony I don't know what is. If my "writing break" lasts much longer, or goes completely off the rails, I guess I'll have no one to blame but myself.

I have, sort of, kind of, come up with a title. Samantha was on the cross-country team before her accident, so the phrase Running Towards popped into my head last week, as a sort of counterpoint to "running away," but it doesn't make a lot of sense of you don't get that, and is probably a little obscure. Then I mentally sized up Running Forward, but eh. Both titles imply that running is a large part of the plot, and it isn't, and that running might be part of the process that ends up healing her, and again, it isn't. I suppose I'll have to keep searching.

As I am wont, while not writing I've been thinking about writing something else -- specifically, that cool new idea that suddenly began percolating a few months ago. It's called Gone now, and I really like it. The protagonist is (at the moment) 13; her name is Anna Kosel; she has a little sister; there's a boy who likes her. And one morning she wakes up to find her parents are gone, along with everyone else in the world older than 15.

I'm pretty excited about this one, but unlike the current new thing Gone really will require an outline. I'll have to sit down some weekend and work on that, as I don't want to just start freewriting it and end up stuck somewhere in chapter 3 becuase I didn't know where the story was going.

And that's pretty much that, as far as the writing goes. I'll get back into the groove soon, finish Chapter 12, and get on with it. Promise.

Where the votes aren't

In January 2000, McCain won the New Hampshire primary and was poised to win in South Carolina too, until Karl Rove's vicious smear campaign derailed things pretty nicely for him:

Rove invented a uniquely injurious fiction for his operatives to circulate via a phony poll. Voters were asked, "Would you be more or less likely to vote for John McCain...if you knew he had fathered an illegitimate black child?" This was no random slur. McCain was at the time campaigning with his dark-skinned daughter, Bridget, adopted from Bangladesh.

McCain later said there was a special place in hell reserved for the people who spread those rumors. Well, guess what? On Monday, McCain hired the guy who helped spread those race-baiting rumors!

That's nice. Obama topped 50% today, probably as undecided independents finally begin hopping off the fence, and instead of campaigning to the middle where the votes he needs to win lie, he moves further to the already-secured right by tossing meat to the base with the disastrous choice of Palin, then hiring the guy he once thought belonged in hell.

I suppose the point -- if there is one -- is that people already inclined to vote for him (or against Obama; those aren't necessarily the same things) won't care about this. They just want him to win; want the last eight years to continue without a break.

They can have him.

Potpourri

I'm almost finished with Chapter 12, but I'm not completely satisfied with how it's coming out. There's nothing specifically wrong with it, I suppose, but the second half of the chapter is mostly narrative as Sam goes through what she hopes will be the final surgery on her injured hand. As I've said more than once, I think I'm best when I'm writing dialogue, and at my weakest when writing the narrative. Well, here it is.

When I am finished I'll just have to go over and over that section, making little corrections and edits each time, until I'm satisfied. That's what I always do.

In other news, the Olympics are over, and I'm simultaneously melancholy and sick of them. I like having some interesting sport to watch on TV each night, and I like learning a little about the athletes. I'm definitely sick of NBC's coverage, which seemed like it had grown a little worse since Athens in 2004. I never once caught any sailing, indoor cycling, rhythmic gymnastics, pentathalon, archery, or rowing. I do believe last time I saw at least a little of some of those sports, but not this time.

London in 2012 is going to have to come up with the display of all displays to beat what Beijing did for the opening and closing ceremonies. Another bus delivering Jimmy Paige, Becks, and some random popster I'd never heard of, isn't going to get it done. Surely I can't be the only one who thought the message being sent by all those umbrellas was, "The weather really sucks! Welcome!" Although I now do want an electric brolly with lights, and I totally covet one of those circular unicycle things they had riding around.

And we go from that, directly to the Democratic convention in Denver. I for one will watch not an instant of it. I'm tangenitally interested in politics -- I'm interested in theories and arguments, but not specifics, details or (god forbid) personalities. I've watched the conventions before, and they're all the same: hot air, new heights reached in unspecified promises, and partisan sniping.

It's a complete turnoff for me. Politics is a sewer, and it tars anybody who dares to wade into it. A few months ago my email group and I were having a discussion about this. I think we were having a talk about who was or wasn't or should or shouldn't be running for President, and my friend Paul asked me who I would want to run. I told him -- nobody. I hold no admiration for the people who do run, and if I did admire someone enough I wouldn't want them to run, for fear of their becoming irrevocably stained by the process.

Yes, I realize that's quite the little interesting paradox I've created for myself. Is it too late to set up a monarchy, or an enlightened despot? We really couldn't do much worse by having someone's eldest child inherit the throne, compared with the way it's set up now.

In which I've solved a problem

I finally figured out how to get through that impasse in chapter 10, though I'm still not completely satisfied with the result. I think I'm just going to have to go forward as unsatisfied, and leave it at that, unless fantastic inspiration strikes. I want that scene to be there, despite the difficulties I've had in completing it.

Which brings me to one of my faults as a writer: I fall too much in love with my characters, which results in my wanting to give pretty much each one of them more page time than required by the plot. This can lead to -- and has lead to, many times in the past -- dialogue-heavy scenes running far longer than they need to be, and occasionally even entire scenes that don't need to be there. Writing too much is always a problem, surely not just for me, and excessive enjoyment of minor characters is surely something that merits a warning.

I'm almost done with that little scene, and I'll just have to see if it turns into a speed bump as time goes by. Excising it won't be difficult if it turns out to be disastrous, but it won't be any fun either.

I'm just sayin'

Someone can do it right

As much as NBC's TV coverage can be biased and annoying, their official web site is a fantastic place to watch events live. You won't see everything there live -- I think they hold off the events they'll end up showing in prime time, like the swimming and gymnastics events -- but that's sort of the point of this site. This is where you can go to see the sports you can't see on TV.

I'm not a huge fan of the format, if only because you're required to download Microsoft's Silverlight plugin. There's nothing wrong with it, per se -- it's basically just a Flash analog, as far as I can tell -- but I dislike having to install extraneous programs on my computer. I already have Flash on it; why do I need something else?

And the coverage is strangely addictive. Even more bare-bones than the Triplecast, the webcasts are little more than live feeds of events, with score and point graphics, but without any commentary. Which, I have to say, I love. It's fascinating how utterly irrelevant most sports play-by-play is; we're just used to it. Yes, I personally need it for football (which is incomprehensible without it, thanks to its Byzantine collection of field rules), but nearly evey Olympic sport there is can be deciphered easily on your own.

Weightlifting, for example, which I'm watching right now. It couldn't be simpler: keep lifting heavy things over your head, until you can't any more. It's the womens' 75+ kg clean and jerk (that's how much they weigh, not how much they're lifting; at this point they're well above 150 kg), there's nobody telling me the life story of the woman from Uzbekistan, no cutting away from some random competitor, and no commercials. It's fantastic.

Seriously, I would pay money if my TV coverage was like this. Heck -- I did pay money in 1992. I would do it again gladly.

And the woman from South Korea just set a wold record by jerking 186 kg over her head. For the metrically disinclined among us (like me), that's 310 pounds. Wow. I feel a soliloquy to the wonders of the human body coming on.

The 16 day grind

It's right around this point on the Olympics schedule, just like clockwork, that I begin to loathe NBC. I'm not going to whine about why they're not doing this or that instead of what they are doing (or not too much, at least); I know how much they spent for the broadcast rights, and I know they have to recoup their money. But still.

Beach volleyball? Every freaking night? Live?

Seriously, this might be the most overrated, boring sport at the games. This is how pretty much every single game progresses: serve, set, smash, point. Repeat until one team scores 21. Volleys are rare; sustained volleys are all but nonexistent. In between games loud music blares and cheerleaders run out for a brief booty shake.

I won't pretend I'm not aware most of this inexplicable popularity has to do with the fact that the female athletes' "uniforms" consist of a minuscule bikini barely large enough for their names and numbers. One of my friends at work more or less confirmed that as the reason he watches. Which is fine, I guess, as far as that goes, but it meshes poorly with an athletic event. If skinny women in empty bikinis are your thing, great. Go service your thing on line. But don't watch an athletic event for the wrong reasons, driving up the ratings, and making me have to watch it too.

I'm not sick of Michael Phelps yet. Yet. Fortunately he seems like a genuinely nice guy, as opposed to arrogant buffoons like Gary Hall Jr., so he wears well.

NBC's jingoistic, xenophobic coverage of US athletes is irritating, but that's not a battle worth fighting. I would like to see all the athletes covered equally, but obviously most people want to see their own athletes. I get that, and I get that it simply isn't possibly to give all the athletes equal coverage. But NBC really dropped the ball on Wednesday night during the finals of the mens' gymnastics all-around competition. They were all over the US and China athletes all night long, with some brief glimpses to the Japanese athletes. Not once did they cut away to the French athlete -- and he ended up winning the bronze. Come on, NBC. You can do better than that.

Or...maybe you can't. And it's not like I'm not going to watch, so all you can do it suck up any annoyance you're feeling and enjoy the spectacle. I said before that I love the Olympics, and that hasn't changed. I suppose what's going on is, while I love the Olympics, I hate the way the TV broadcasters have decided I must watch it.

Bring back the Triplecast!

11 Down

And some unknown number to go.

I finished Chapter 11 over the weekend, on Sunday to be exact. It followed basically the outline I'd planned for it in my head, and ended up little better than I'd hoped for. Some of the chapters up until this point had been making their own paths, but this one seemed to need a plan first.

The Persistent Wife, who hasn't read it, has expressed some concern with the level of detail I may have employed when describing the makeout session between Samantha and Alex. I think that's valid. As I said before, this book is what it's intended to be, and the characters are the ages I've decided them to be; that requires some restraint. I wouldn’t describe my own feelings as concern; more like, it’s an awareness of a need to reign myself in. I think I’ve done that. Nevertheless, there will be some refining, as there always is.

Chapter 12 should also pretty much take care of itself, since I know pretty clearly what’s going to happen. After that, though, I’m going to have to start thinking (I know: I hate that!). In my head have the foundations of at least a half-dozen somewhat pivotal scenes throughout the remainder of the story, but as I’ve mentioned before, it’s linking all those scenes together that’s often the hard part for me.

I’ve thought about making an outline for the rest of the story. I think that would help with the filling in, but I also don’t want to feel like I’m constraining myself. I like free writing; I think it’s working for me, and I don’t want to mess up what’s been successful so far for 11 chapters.

Anyway, I’m taking another rest at the moment. I wrote myself out over the weekend, and there’s some gosh darn good trap shooting and equestrian events that need watching this week.

Quadrennium

I love the Olympics. Love them. I love the pageantry, the drama, the huge stories and the little stories, the triumphs and the heartbreaks. I love how powerful it can be, and I love how corny it can be too.

I don't remember watching any Games before 1980. I have vague recollections if 1976 in Montreal, but I don't know if those are my memories, or if they're things I've heard about and read about over the years, until I can't tell the difference any more. I'd like to think that I watched Nadia Comaneci, for example, but I don't think that I did.

The first Olympics I do remember watching was the Winter Games in 1980, and even then the only memory I have, obviously, is the hockey team's Miracle on Ice, defeating the Soviet Union 4-3 -- not the gold medal game, as a lot of people incorrectly remember. The US had to defeat Finland 4-3 two days later for that. But there's nothing else about the 1980 Games I remember. I probably watched figure staking, as Linda Fratianne and Robin Cousins seem so familiar, but if I did watch it's gone now.

I remember the opening ceremonies in Los Angeles in 1984, which was wondrously corny kitsch at its best. Especially I remember the 88 grand pianos all playing Rhapsody in Blue. I remember Rafer Johnson lighting the flame; barefoot Zola Budd from South Africa tripping Mary Decker; Carl Lewis being superhuman.

For some reason I don't remember the 1988 Games in Seoul. Did I not watch it? What was the matter with me?

Interestingly, what I most remember about 1992 in Barcelona was the absolutely astounding view from the swimming pool, looking out and down over the city; and paralympic archer Antonio Robello lighting the flame with an arrow. And eagerly gobbling down the 24/7 live coverage from NBC's unfairly maligned Triplecast--which nobody else seems to have watched--instead of their worthless tape-delayed coverage.

All that's left from the winter games in Albertville that year was the weird opening ceremonies with the dancers all wearing bizarre costumes. Those crazy Europeans!

Everyone remembers Nancy and Tonya from 1994 in Lillehammer -- and probably not much else -- so that shouldn't even count.

A billion and five memories from Atlanta in 1996, not all of them good. The opening ceremonies coming to a tremendous crescendo leading immediately into the parade of nations, with Muhammed Ali lighting the flame; the rampant, nauseating commercialism; Michael Johnson absolutely obliterating the world record in the 200 in track; the pipe bomb; Amy Van Dyken winning the 50 free in swimming, maybe the most exciting event in all of Olympic sports; Kerri Strug and the gymnastics team.

From the opening ceremonies in Beijing last night, mostly I remember how fucking pompous and aggravating Bob Costas is. Hey Bob -- shut up! Nobody is interested in your blowhard speechifying! We dont need constant narration for us poor dumb Mekins, explaining what's going on. We have brains ourselves; we can interpret and infer. And, you know, simply enjoy. It is possible, you know.

I'll watch pretty much anything I can get access too, just like all the other times. This morning I watched team handball (France defeats Angola) and badminton (Poland defeats Estonia). Sports I wouldn't give the time of day to normally become fascinating once the Olympics come around. Like curling in the winter games. Curling! Yes I watch, enthralled. The Olympics are important, and so that imparts a similar importance to every event.

And I try to imagine what it must be like to be, not someone huge like LeBron James, who looked bored and inconvenienced last night, but an athlete from a small country with no realistic shot of medaling. I try to imagine being that person, and then actually doing it. I think that's what the Olympics are all about, it's why it's so exciting, and it's why I'll always happily watch -- even if what I'm watching is judo.

All the faux news that fits

I thought this was hysterical. And typical.

On Thursday Omaba was at a rally stop in Ohio, where some fool got himself a press credential and then started heckling from the audience, demanding to know why Obama hadn't begun with the Pledge of Allegiance. (I must have missed the news reports of the new law making this a requirement.) Instead of inviting this gentleman to put his money where his mouth was and begin the Pledge himself, Obama instead caved and led the crowd in the Pledge.

The fun came when Faux News, the propaganda mouthpiece of the right wing, decided to report on this incident. Their take on things? "[Obama] skipped Pledge of Allegienace." Probably becuase he hates America.

Really, is there anyone left who takes Faux seriously as a news source? I'm sure there are; people who still believe Iraq had anything to do with 9/11, for instance. But it's not even comedy like The Onion or Stephen Colbert, so I'm not quite sure how to characterize it. Pravda, maybe? Or we could just borrow the phrase used by the judge in Fox v. Franken, where he called the lawsuit "...wholly without merit."

I don't think Fox News can be described any better than that.