Handwriting vs. Typing

According to research, there’s a huge difference in the way our brain processes handwritten things versus typed.  I know lots of authors prefer to handwrite their first drafts, then type up the edited and revised story.

Not me.  I always type my stories.  Part of it is that I type much faster than I write.  When I handwrite things, I have a difficult time keeping up with my thoughts.  Words tend to pour out of me in quick bursts, and trying to write it all down by hand only ends in things left unwritten and lots of hand cramps.

On the other hand (no pun intended), when I write poetry or songs, I always write them out by hand.  The few times I’ve tired typing a song instead of handwriting it, the lyrics have turned out absolute crap.  Of course, this means I end up with snatches of lyrics and ideas for choruses written on random pieces of paper and stuffed into pockets or my backpack.  But that’s the price I have to pay to chase my muse, I guess.

Back in the Saddle

As of this moment (Friday, August 26, about 10:30 in the morning), I’ve been back at work for a little over two and a half hours.  I know what classes I’m teaching for the coming school year (team-taught World History II and Government), what classrooms I’ll be in (I’m a nomad this year, bouncing from room to room like a man without a homeroom), and who I’m teaching with (one veteran teacher and one fresh-faced second year).  It looks – admittedly, from what little information I have so far – like it will be a pretty good year.  I’m feeling re-energized after my summer off, ready to tackle new topics and get down in the trenches, as it were.

Of course, that means we should probably review the summer’s activities and assess my performance, yes?

I had three primary goals this summer:

  1. Start exercising again so I don’t die of a heart attack or something similar before I hit the age of 40.
  2. Drive for Uber to make some extra cash.
  3. Edit book 2 and maybe even finish writing book 5.

I can say item #1 has been going pretty well.  I’ve been exercising consistently, and I’m up to running a mile most every day.  Should be up to two miles by the end of September.

I did a bit of driving for Uber, but it wasn’t as productive or profitable as I’d imagined it would be.  Part of it was because I was usually busy chauffeuring my wife to and from school during the times when I’d have been able to make the most money, part of it was I didn’t really want to drive in DC much (where the demand and thus pay were usually higher than out in the ‘burbs), and part of it is just the flaws inherent in the ridesharing app and business.  I’ll probably continue to drive for Uber once in a while during the school year, but I don’t see it being something I do as a steady source of income.

I edited a grand total of 11 (eleven) pages of book 2 this summer!  That’s…not great.  However, I did do a lot of plotting in my head for book 5 and beyond, and came up with a couple of short story ideas in the Hazzard universe, so it wasn’t completely wasted time.  And I tend to do better when I’ve got a full schedule anyway.  My ADD brain just works more efficiently when there’s the pressure of lots of external deadlines, so I’m sure I’ll get the edits done on book 2 pretty fast now that the school year is upon us.  Heck, since my classroom is already set up, I may even be able to get some editing done today.

Kicking Television

See the image at the top of this post? Yeah, that’s what my tv screen currently looks like. It is not supposed to look like that. It’s this tv’s version of the blue screen of death, basically.

Someday, years from now when consumer goods aren’t made with planned obsolescence built in as a feature (so, like, never), I will be able to make it through an entire summer without something needing catastrophic repairs or replacement. Last summer, the Wife’s car needed $1400 in repairs and one of the cats needed almost twice that in dental work. This summer, it’s just the tv, but it’s still a source of frustration.

That being said, did you know I have a Patreon page? It’s more set up for folks who follow the comic, but anyone can support me on it. Anyone, including you fine folks! You get rewards and stuff, I get some extra cash to support my comic and novel and music pursuits. Maybe consider it, huh? Even a dollar or two a month will add up eventually. 

Headphones

A good pair of headphones is hard to find.

Nearly a decade ago, I got a pair of Bose earbuds (see above). They are, hands down, the best, most comfortable earbuds I’ve ever owned. They fit perfectly and sound amazing.

I’ve noticed the trend lately for earbuds to include those weird hook thingies, ostensibly to keep them in the ear better. I hate those things, mostly because they don’t fit in my ear very well and are just remarkably uncomfortable.

The upshot of all that is, the older my earbuds get, the more concerned I become a out their continued utility. They’re eventually going to break and need to be replaced. And, if rumors about the next iPhone are to be believed, I’ll probably have to upgrade to wireless earbuds. Trouble is, now they’ve all got those damned hook thingies. You can’t hardly find earbuds without them.

All I want are earbuds that sound as good as the ones I have, fit comfortably into my ears, and are wireless maybe.

So, if someone at Bose could get back to me on that, I’d appreciate it.

Imposter!

Like so many other creative-types, I suffer from something called imposter syndrome.

It’s not a real, DSM-V disorder, mind you.  It’s just this feeling that many authors, musicians, artists, and creators have, this sense that you don’t deserve any respect or admiration for the things you create.  It’s this belief that folks are going to figure out you have no idea what you’re doing, that you’re a fraud only pretending like you know how to do this thing you’re doing.  And when they find out…well, they’ll expose you and decry you and exile you from society.

It’s a very frustrating, debilitating sensation.  It can cause you to hesitate, to consider yourself worthless (or at least worth less than you actually are), make you feel like you don’t have anything worthwhile to contribute.  It can stop you from doing the things you want to do, prevent you from putting yourself out there for fear of rejection and disgust from your audience.

Rejection may not even be the worst of it.  People hating something you’ve created is at least a reaction.  What feels worse in a way is the absence of any reaction: silence.  No one reacting one way or the other.  Feeling like you’re shouting out into an empty void, with only the echo of your own voice returning in response.  It’s a different type of rejection, one that’s harder to deal with in many ways.

I’ll probably always feel a bit like an imposter, no matter how successful I end up being in my endeavors.  It’s part of who I am.  In a way, it’s not a completely bad thing.  It pushes me to be better than I am, to work harder at my craft and learn from my mistakes.  It keeps me from becoming too complacent.  I just have to remind myself that these things I do – my writing, my songs, my comics – are for me.  The fact that some other people may also like them?  That’s just frosting on the cake.

A History Lesson

Totally and completely unrelated to any current political platform being offered up by any major American political party, I offer up this brief history lesson.  As you may recall, my day job is teaching social studies, and historians (yes, I call myself a historian.  Yes, it’s pretentious as all get-out.  No, I’m not going to stop) like to think that, if folks bothered to actually listen to us once in a while and learn the lessons of the past, maybe we could stop repeating the dumb mistakes our great-great-great-great-grandparents made.  Or maybe we’d still make the same mistakes, but we’d make them with more interesting fashion choices or something, I don’t know.

Today, we’re going to talk about the Alien and Sedition Acts of 1798, a set of laws so wrongheadedly-awful that they actually killed an entire major political party.

The United States in 1798 was in a weird situation.  Under President John Adams, the country had some major decisions to make about foreign and domestic policy.  Britain and France were having a bit of a to-do over in Europe, and the United States wanted to sell stuff to both of them but didn’t want to get dragged into the conflict.  To that end, President George Washington had made a statement of neutrality one of his last major acts as Commander-in-Chief.  Washington was no fool, of course: he knew the US wasn’t up for a major conflict so close on the heels of the Revolution.  Neutrality allowed the US to keep selling things to both countries without having to pick a side.

Adams and the Federalists would try to take things further, though.  Using their win in 1796 as some sort of mandate to draft policies of isolationism and anti-immigrant fear-mongering, the Federalists in Congress created a series of laws, the Alien Acts, that gave the president the power to deport immigrants for (essentially) whatever reason he wanted, prohibit new immigrants from entering the country, and make it vastly more difficult for immigrants to become naturalized citizens (the less-discussed Naturalization Act, as part of the laws collectively called the Alien and Sedition Acts by most history textbooks, lengthened the time you had to be a legal resident of the nation from seven years to 14 years…two years longer than most immigrant worker visas lasted at the time).

The Sedition Act was even weirder.  It made it illegal for newspapers – or, well, anyone – to criticize the government in any way, punishable by jail time and fines and all sorts of lovely stuff.  All the sort of stuff you’d expect from a group that definitely thought it was doing the right thing, right?

Now, there are some ulterior motives behind laws.  The Alien Acts were designed to keep out “undesirables,” such as the Irish, who were not sending their best (to hear the Federalists tell of it).  It was surely no coincidence that the Federalists’ political rivals, the Democratic-Republicans, included more immigrants in their ranks.  Surely these laws were just spite aimed at weakening their opponents?  No political party in the United States would ever do that!

Anyway, turns out those laws were seriously unpopular.  Adams and the Federalists lost the election of 1800 to Thomas Jefferson (with a little help from the only other major Federalist in the country other than John Adams, Mr. Alexander Hamilton), and the Federalists were basically a non-entity on the national level after that.  Hell, the next couple of decades saw nothing but Democratic-Republican candidates win the White House.  They didn’t call the 1810s the Era of Good Feelings because everyone liked how itchy their wool suits made them feel.  It wasn’t until the populist jackass Andrew Jackson took the office that another national political party, the Whigs,  would even emerge to challenge the Democratic-Republicans.  It didn’t help that Martin Van Buren was all mutton chops and no action, or that Jackson killing the Second Bank of the United States destroyed the only federal fiscal regulatory tool the government had and ended up precipitating the Panic of 1832 (the event that killed Van Buren’s presidency), but that’s all a story for another post.

My Favorite Photograph

I like taking pictures. I’m generally not great at it, but I still enjoy taking the odd snapshot when the mood strikes me.

There’s one exception to my photographic mediocrity: a picture I took in Sleepy Hollow, New York, several years ago when we’d gone up to visit my wife’s family. We were being all touristy in the village, checking out the churchyard cemetery where Washington Irving (of Ichabod Crane and the Headless Horseman fame) is buried. The church itself was quite old and rather lovely, that it was closed at the time. Undaunted, I used my phone (and a photography app called Hipstamatic) to take a picture through the window. I ended up picking up a reflection from te window, creating an effect that I was tremendously pleased with:


I was afraid I’d lost this photo when my laptop hard drive crashed last year, but thankfully I’d posted it to Facebook and was able to recover it from there. 

Lazy Summer

I’ve been pretty lazy so far this summer.  I spent the first couple of weeks of it sleeping in (or getting up, driving my wife to work, then coming back home and taking a long nap) and binge-watching several shows on Netflix.  The past couple of weeks, I’ve been driving for Uber, which has been a novel experience.

Editing has started, though it’s going slowly.  I’ve made it to page 11 (of 118) of the manuscript.  Admittedly, most of the editing for The Hidden Throne (book 2) will go pretty quick, because this book has already been through three rounds of self-editing.  It was the only novel I ended up self-publishing, after all.

I have signed contracts for THT and a short story, both of which will appear sometime next year.  So that’s pretty exciting!  It does mean I need to get on the stick with the editing.

I’ve got a month or so left before I have to report back to school for teacher inservice.  In that time, I should be able to get THT edited, and maybe get some more work done on book 5.

In the meantime, though, I have to go.  Season Three of Bojack Horseman ain’t gonna binge-watch itself!

Summer Break

It’s been a relaxing summer break so far.  I haven’t accomplished a fraction of the things I wanted to do yet, but I keep telling myself there are several weeks left in the break and I’ll probably get around to most of them eventually.

Today is going to be a big writing-related day.  I’ve got a couple of contracts for upcoming releases to look over and sign (new stories for next year!  Hurray!), a non-fiction article to proofread and edit, and it would be good if I made some progress on editing book 2.

I did buy a new guitar amp yesterday, apropos of nothing.  A basically brand-new Fender Blues Jr. owned by an older gentleman who’d bought it but never took it out of the home.  Got a nice deal on it, too.  The second-hand musical instrument world can be a mite expensive on occasion; a big reason I grabbed this particular amp was that it was the cheapest I’d seen one of them on craigslist in quite some time.  Everyone wants $500 for their battered and hard-used amplifier, and they always think they’re doing you a favor by offering up such a bargain.  But you can buy one of these amps new for just a little more than that, so it ain’t quite the deal they claim.  This guy offered what was essentially a new amp at far less than his competitors on craigslist, so I grabbed it.  I’m looking forward to making the neighbors complain about the noise.

I should also mention that I’ve set up a Patreon page.  Not for my writing, mind you, but for my webcomic.  It’d be nice if that started earning me a bit of extra cash.  Feel free to check it out; I recently redid the reward tiers and made things more comic-relevant, so it’s worth taking a look at.

Heavy Heart

I spent last night sitting in my living room, my heart filling up with grief.

It sorta felt like that all week, honestly.  Terrible things keep happening out there, and I feel completely powerless to stop them.

I’ve never had to deal with fear of the police.  Sure, I get anxious when a cop is driving behind me, and one time in high school an off-duty officer in an unmarked car chased me across town at midnight, but I’ve never believed the police were just searching for a reason to pull me over or that there was much of a chance I would die if I didn’t do exactly what they said.  I’m a straight white male (or “the lowest difficulty setting,” according to author John Scalzi), and that stuff just doesn’t usually happen to guys with my skin tone.

The fact that I can qualify that statement with a snarky reference to my pasty-pale skin is kind of sickening.  No one should have to worry about being shot by a cop just because their taillight is out.  No one should have to explain to their kids that you have to behave absolutely perfectly when interacting with a cop to avoid being killed, and even then you may still get shot.

And none of that is to say that cops deserve to get shot, either.  My uncle was a cop in Tulsa for years.  He’s a big, gruff-sounding teddy bear of a guy.  He looks and sounds imposing as hell, and he once took out a chainlink fence with a guy who was resisting arrest (or so the story goes), but he also tries to break up fights between teenagers (he’s in his 70s now) to help prevent bad things from happening.

I’m an empathetic person.  Watching people be upset upsets me.  Other people crying will switch on my waterworks in a trice.  And this morning, as I go about my usual business, there’s a part of me that just wants to curl up and mourn.

Featured image (C) 2016 Ting Shen.