Stories like this

Ignore that this guy is getting his novel published. For these purposes, its nice, but not required.

First off, the story itself is nicely crafted. It's the type of writing and story that carries my interest even outside of the marriage and book publishing topics. I sometimes wish this is what I was writing. Or at the very least that I was writing like this.

But the point I really want to ram home is that this guy took four years to write his novel. Four years. I've long since forgotten how long I've been at mine. My guess would be 3 years. Four years is possible.

And his original drafts were, if he is to be believed, dreck as well. Of course, admitting your work was originally dreck is easier once you have published a book and have an agreement for a second. First off, its easier to take criticism when once you've succeeded. Secondly, its much more complimentary to you if you cleaned up this original mess you made into a sellable novel. "I worked slavishly to clean up this mess" is better than "the words pretty much fell onto the page as they are here."

This is all on my mind because The Oven and I were discussing my progress on my novel last night. Or lack thereof, anyway. And so I rededicated myself to editing.

I have a new novel fleshing itself out in my head that I'd like to eventually write. But I'm determined not to start it until the work in progress is finished. Finished finished.

The honest truth is I'd like to finish this damn thing and it be good. Almost to the exclusion of its publication.

Douchebaggery

Money Magazine runs a "write in and have your question answered" segment. They not only get experts, but regular joes and janes from the street to answer, as well. This month's question involves an adult man who is the executor of his parents' estate. The will apparently give each child $X free and clear. The question asker is worried because his brother is, in his opinion, bad with money, and he wonders whether its OK for him to parcel out the out the money slowly, you know, so his brother won't blow it all at once. What do you think is appropriate?

The answers varied widely. The worst, however, were the people who answered that yes, the executor should only give his brother money in drips and drabs. Honestly? So, the people who "owned" the money - the parents - legally give it to their son, and instead of doing what they legally established, people think its OK to meddle in those affairs because of some impression that the brother isn't good with money? This a true test of douchebaggery, if you ask me.

Some picked the correct answer: it is the parents' money, the executor is merely there to make sure the parents' wishes are fulfilled, and the money should be conveyed as they wished. Had the parents wanted it distributed in drips and drabs they could have seen to that. Also OK as an answer: offering to help the brother manage such a windfall.

The worst part of it is that the only evidence of the monetary immaturity of the brother is the writer's impression. Who knows what he takes as being irresonsible with money. Maybe his brother buys expensive cars, or antique guns that the writer thinks are a waste. To suggest that an executor should go against the wishes of an estate simply because of his interpretation of his brother's conduct is truly a sad statement about the internal workings of the individual.

That got followed up by this letter writer to a slate.com advice columnist:

I ride on public transportation to and from work everyday. My problem is that I have a very sensitive nose, and I am easily overwhelmed by smells. I am frequently in the uncomfortable position of sitting next to someone who is either wearing far too much cologne or who reeks of cigarettes and beer. I find it very difficult to breathe and end up unsubtly coughing as I inhale these noxious fumes. My commute is a little less than an hour, so I sit next to these people for quite a while. What is the protocol for asking someone to switch his or her seat? If I'm already sitting and there are other seats available, can I ask the olfactory offender to move? Or is it my obligation to move because I'm the one who can't stand the smell? How do I even approach the topic with fellow commuters?

He's just helping out

This article in The New York Times (via Reason) paints a "sympathetic, lighthearted" picture of a beloved person in the community. So beloved that the New York Times runs his story and picture on its front page. A Legal Aid lawyer notes that the man is the "goodwill ambassador of Eighth Avenue" and that everyone says hello to him at his court appearances.

Now, you may have caught on from the last part of that sentence that not everything is on the up and up. In fact, the man - Lonnie Loosie - sells cigarettes on the street. He'll sell you one at a time, with discounts for multiple cigarettes. And he sells packs for $8 (which seems expensive, until you realize they go for $12.50/pack in NY). All this is fine and good. It's a nice story. Except that, as Reason.com notes, you would never see such a story about a guy selling marijuana or, god forbid, something stronger.

Yet the difference between the guy selling Mary Jane and old Loosie is... what exactly? Neither Loosie nor our hypothetical Janer salesman is legally able to hawk his wares. Neither drug drives people to crazy danger looking for a high. Neither is probably very good for you when used in the traditional way. Yet Loosie gets a front page story about how good a community person he is and how he is beloved and merely filling a need created by government policy.

Which is easier: Hitting .250, or writing a half-way decent novel?

Bill James at Slate.com wonders "why are we so good at developing athletes and so lousy at developing writers?"

James makes some good points, but mixes in one truly aweful one and ignores another somewhat easy explanation.

The easy explanation is that writing, at all but its top-most performance, is very subjective, while baseball isn't.

Sure, Shakespeare is universally regarded (and maybe because of that gets undue regard). Outside of him and a handful of others, "good" writing is subjective. Romance, legal thrillers, etc etc etc. Is Grisham good, or a mere hack? He's certainly good at what he does, but does "what he does" constitute hackery? Stephen King sells millions, but is he merely rewriting the same 5 or so stories? Is he formuliac? Is he verbose? Does it matter? The Invisible Man by Ellison (the one about race, not Sci Fi) is considered a classic. It is one of probably one or two books I've ever started that I couldn't finish. It was like reading by rubbing my eye against broken glass.

On the other hand, a guy who hits .300 is pretty good hitter regadless. You can nick-pick whether he gets on base enough, or whether he has sufficient power for this position or that, but honestly, .300 is good. James wonders if some of it is because we already have Shakespeare and Dickens, but we "need" new baseball games every day. It sounds good on first inspection. But we also "need" new books every day. And despite James' contention that we would could and would fill any expansion of baseball teams with new talent of equal character (James suggests even 5,000 [5,000!] teams could be filled with quality talent!), I just don't think its true. In its formative days writing had Dickens and Shakespeare; baseball had Aaron and Ruth. Today, a watered-down and mass produced writing has King and Grisham, while a watered-down and mass produced baseball has all those .240 hitters and come-this-year, gone-the-next relief pitchers with whose names I won't bore you.

James cites baseball's payment-on-potential nature. In other words, baseball pays a young high schooler based on potential, but a writer must toil for years before finding any type of success. True. But a young hurler can have a big impact quickly, and that impact can be predicted with some measure of consistency. Absent injury, a guy consistently pitching 8 innings of 1.25 WHIP ball is likely to be a productive player. A person consistently writing a novel a year, even completely readable, well-written novels, isn't necassarily ever going to turn out a great novel, let alone a profitable one.

So I put it to you: Which is easier... hitting .250 (a mediocre average that would make you an iffy prospect) or writing a half-way decent novel?