A Mind is a Terrible Thing

By the way, I think I may have blogged about this before, but it bears repeating:  For authors using Windows as their PC platform, Treepad is one of the best tools out there for organizing, keeping track of projects, and book development.  (They also have a more basic version available for Linux/Wine.)

I’ve tried MindMap — and not only do I seem to lack the requisite visual orientation, I just can’t cram enough information into a given map for it to be of use. Good for brainstorming, but I just can’t make it work as a tool for organizing a complex novel.

Treepad, on the other hand, uses a tree/branch/node structure that lets me track as much or as little information as I need — text, graphics, tables — and to organize it however I need.  Character outlines, place descriptions, timelines, maps, world history, notes & To Do lists…it’s all easy to track for those such as myself who like organized lists and hierarchies.

I’ve bought a license for the Enterprise Edition, Single User in late 2004, and nearly five years later it’s still one of the main tools I install on any new computer I own.  Great thing, too, is the license is perpetual: Free updates forever.

For those who might be curious, they have a  freeware version available, with a reduced but not crippling set of features.  And all the other versions have a fully-functional 21 day trial.

My own experience was I tried the free version for a couple days, then immediately knew it was THE tool for me, and that I wanted the larger database size support (8 GB back when I bought the Enterprise Edition, now up to 12GB) and the ability to have multiple DBs open at once.

Typing Without a Clue – NYTimes.com
By TIMOTHY EGAN
Published: December 6, 2008

The unlicensed pipe fitter known as Joe the Plumber is out with a book this month, just as the last seconds on his 15 minutes are slipping away. I have a question for Joe: Do you want me to fix your leaky toilet?

I didn’t think so. And I don’t want you writing books. Not when too many good novelists remain unpublished. Not when too many extraordinary histories remain unread. Not when too many riveting memoirs are kicked back at authors after 10 years of toil. Not when voices in Iran, North Korea or China struggle to get past a censor’s gate.  (The rest at the link)

As a (former) professional technical writer of 20-odd years, published poet, and aspirant novelist/essayist, I could not agree more.  Not only does “JTP” (as he is being called now) have a book deal, but as the article notes, supposedly Sarah Palin’s being offered $7 million for her own book.

The lady can’t even express a coherent thought verbally — think that’s going to be any different in print?  No, they’ll counter, she’ll have a ghost writer, be heavily coached and edited, etc.  And still she gets to pocket an obscene advance, while hundreds of more deserving and talented authors struggle just to get through the publishers’ doors.  (Meanwhile, that ghost-writer’s soul will stare deep into the Nietzschian ‘Abyss’ that is Sarah Palin’s incoherent, ill-educated narcissistic psyche…  No, not even for a sizable chunk of that advance would I do it.)

I’m glad to be heading back to India for continuing study for one other good reason:  The bookstores over there won’t have these hack-job/whack-job wingnut welfare doorstops-cum-’books’ on display.

Russian novelist, former dissident, Solzhenitsyn dead – CNN.com
(CNN) — Russian novelist and historian Alexander Solzhenitsyn, whose works detailed the horrors of Stalin’s Soviet labor camps, has died at 89, Russian news agencies reported Monday.
(snip)
He published his first work, a novella titled "One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich," in a literary journal in 1959. The story was based on his own experiences at a labor camp in Kazakhstan where he worked as a miner, bricklayer and foundryman, and was later printed on a wider scale in 1961.

I remember reading this novella one day while visiting my parents during Christmas break, when I was in college.  This would’ve been around 1981 or 82, probably.

In truth, it was rather long to be considered a mere ‘novella’ — but I was also a voracious reader back then and could devour entire libraries in a matter or months (no kidding).

I finished Denisovich near evening, feeling the bone-deep cold and the simple satisfaction the man felt at a day he considered a very good one — but which most of us would call horrendously punishing.

Then I was called down to family dinner — and stood, I’m sure, with my mouth agape like a carp as I saw the dining room table filled with food.  Ivan had been so very happy to snag a fish head in his thin soup that eponymous day in the gulag…and here we had so much food, I knew some would be thrown out.  It was all I could do to make myself eat even small portions.  It was too, too rich for me.

This is the mark of a supremely talented author: When he or she can make you literally feel what the protagonists feel, to pull you into their world.  For an afternoon, I felt as if I’d been in the gulag with Ivan, sharing his meal, chopping wood in the lethally cold forest, then in the barracks…  (Even more amazing, that this should be possible in an English translation from the original.)

The world just lost an artistic master.

This is a stupid little peeve, but it is this:  "Try" + "and" + (verb).

Like, "Try and succeed."  Or, "Try and relax."  Or, "I’ll try and be there."  I see this nonsense everywhere — television, movies, even in print.

This is incorrect.  It is "Try TO succeed."  Or "Try to relax."  Or, "I’ll try to be there."

Not a conjunction, but the infinitive verb.  Yeesh!

Well, okay, this isn’t a full-blown book review, as I’m not even close to done yet.  I’m only about 25% into the first book of Samit Basu’s fantasy trilogy, collectively known as ‘Gameworld’.  The titles include:

• The Simoqin Prophecies
• The Manticore’s Secret
• The Umwaba Revelations

Long-time readers of my blog might remember how I kind of apologized for putting in Amazon.com links.  Well, in the case, I could put in a link for the first book — but as near as I can tell, except for a Swedish and German translations, this delightful series is generally not available outside of India.

I happened to stumble on it in Gangaram’s bookstore in Bangalore, up on MG road, and really wasn’t sure I’d like it.  As is often the case, the books sat on my shelf a while until the right moment came — the right mood, the right time, etc.  Last night, I finally started the first book.

Although occasionally a little bit rough around the edges, I have to admit I really like the series.  It’s witty, funny, and a genuine page-turner.  Having lived in India for a while, the many references to the culture and ancient myths (the bad guys are called rakshasas, for example) are especially appreciated.  Moreover, Mr. Basu’s English is impeccable and he really knows how to turn a phrase.  (His is also the first literary work in which I find the occasional pun to be clever and not at all groan-worthy.)

Many years ago, I read Phillip Pullman’s "Dark Materials" series, and thought perhaps one day it might hit pretty big in the US…and here we have a major motion picture.  I’ve a feeling one day we’ll see these Gameworld books on the best seller lists.  They’re really that good.

There are times when I simply want to scream, when I hear terms like ‘liberty’ and ‘peace’ being so abused by those who would see most of us not really have them.  Or when they justify things that have been adjudged ‘torture’ as centuries in hundreds of courts of law — by saying "we don’t torture, so whatever we do isn’t that."

Ah, language.  My lover, my whore…  A bit of Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie, by way of a YouTube I first saw posted by Chris in Paris over at Americablog.  It’s well worth the time, and laugh out loud funny.  It’s all about Language!

2007 Results Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest 2007

Gerald began — but was interrupted by a piercing whistle which cost him ten percent of his hearing permanently, as it did everyone else in a ten-mile radius of the eruption, not that it mattered much because for them "permanently" meant the next ten minutes or so until buried by searing lava or suffocated by choking ash — to pee.
– Jim Gleeson Madison, WI

Oh, it’s so very bad, but it hurts so good.  It’s worth a read at the link above there, if you really want some cringe-worthy fun.  There’s lots more.

(The usual trivia:  The contest is named after Bulwer Lytton, who opened his 1830 novel, "Paul Clifford," with the immortal words, "It was a dark and stormy night.")

Special bonus today — an extra short poem that told me it was written and finished after fewer words than even this introduction:

Aspiration

To be a drop of water
in the Ocean
that is God…

                                                 – (c)2006, Becca Morn

Just so you folks think I haven’t forgotten completely about this here blog…

Destiny

Hidden though the passages be
still we are compelled
to seek them

Never quite content to exist
in contentment however
sweet, we strive

Under these conditions, given
who and what we are
it seems impossible

For the classical definition
of celestial heaven
would be utter hell
for most of us

We simply cannot
sit still
for an eternity
without going
completely barking mad

- (c) Becca Morn, 2006

(This one also contains a special bonus, one of my most favorite turns of phrase, "barking mad".  Such a delightful and evocative metaphor)

Last night, we got word from my sister-in-law that Stephanie’s mother had passed away the day before.  She was 97 years old, not so great health (stroke took her, but fairly quickly) — but had had a good life, raised a big bunch of wonderful children (who went on to have families of their own), and in her later years was the dictionary definition of "feisty".

Most importantly, in a time when relations with my own family were non-existent at best, Ma, the matriarch of the Sonnleitner clan, made it very clear she considered me her daughter, too.  During one of our last conversations when we were in Wisconsin for a visit last autumn, she told me, "You can’t get away.  You’re one of us now and always."

For her, I post this poem.  It wasn’t written specifically for her…but I think it fits.

Sky

Words lead to the empty spaces
a bowl overhead
so vast as to exert
its own spiritual gravity

Shriven of earthly anchors
we souls drift
ever upward
ever more swiftly
plummeting into blue
then purple and black

Passing through
merging
singularity
back into light
most pure
illuminating
banishing shadows

Inevitably
an itch
a need to breathe
the ringing Arathi bell
calls the souls
back home

One day though
the call
will go unheeded