tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74677491764291225312024-03-13T00:25:02.451-07:00C.P. White Media BlogUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger145125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-36441803974012968002012-09-27T11:59:00.002-07:002012-09-27T11:59:56.307-07:00We've moved!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9xCIPaU667c/UGSh-0Tr6aI/AAAAAAAABA4/ENsjH5pImSA/s1600/cpwhite+bnw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9xCIPaU667c/UGSh-0Tr6aI/AAAAAAAABA4/ENsjH5pImSA/s1600/cpwhite+bnw.jpg" /></a></div>
It's pretty simple: we've moved. The new place for all things C.P. White Media is <a href="http://cpwhitemedia.com/">cpwhitemedia.com</a>. We've grown up. We've moved out. We've got out own Web site, CMS, hosting, and all that gobbledygook. So pop on over. Check out the tabs we've got too: you can browse and buy everything and anything. And just so you know, this Blogger site is going dormant for now. Follow Chris at <a href="http://www.cpwhitemedia.com/">www.cpwhitemedia.com</a> today.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-41916444116370177472012-09-12T11:00:00.000-07:002012-09-12T11:00:27.149-07:00Rejection<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IgLaTHSNt1U/UFDH08t1jKI/AAAAAAAABAY/ToQfp54of1w/s1600/struggle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IgLaTHSNt1U/UFDH08t1jKI/AAAAAAAABAY/ToQfp54of1w/s320/struggle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I recently got the bright idea that I needed a literary
agent because my books weren’t selling well. I decided to go ahead and query
one, and not just anyone, but one of the top agents in the known universe. In
my swing for the fence I thought that by magic he would somehow cause my poorly
selling work to become magnificent and therefore change me into a discovered
author who is loved, famous, rich, and possibly even <i>more</i> interesting, if such a thing is possible. But that didn’t
happen, because he rejected my submission. And my heretofore magnum opus, <i>K [phantasmagoria]</i> is still not selling.
Surely that’s not my fault. Right?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When the agent sent me a quick email to let me know “this
one just isn’t working for me,” I reacted with grace and thanked him for his
extremely valuable time because I am, if nothing else, professional. Meanwhile,
under my skin, the sensitive creative bits were hurting. They still are. There’s
no rhyme or reason for it other than the fact that someone who knows good
writing basically told me my work isn’t good enough. The truth hurts, and this
is the first time I’ve gotten a good dose of it. The hardest part to take was
the truest: that he found it “hard to follow, with too much narrator-voice in
it.” Yep. That’s precisely the problem. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But there’s more. See, earlier that day I met with another
guy who knows his stuff. And he told me, “Dude, you have to do something about
your covers. You’ve gotta stop doing them yourself. Find a good designer and
pay them.” I responded with a sheepish <i>yeah
I know</i>, which begs the question: if I knew that already, why is it still a
friggin unsolved problem, know what I mean? So this guy who knows his stuff
referred me to some awesome cover designers, and I got the ball rolling in the
right direction. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What’s key about all of this is that I believe I have the
ability to make my work better. I now realize why my book isn’t selling:
because it sucks in every way sucking is possible. It’s true: cover, story,
marketing, all of it. The hallelujah moment is now, because I can finally
realize all of that and make the necessary changes. I mean, thanks to my fans—all
two of you—but I can do better. Much better. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I’m now going back through and rewriting <i>K [phantasmagoria]</i> for probably the
tenth time. I’m taking out a lot of the gratuitous nonsense. I’m streamlining the
plot yet again, trying to get that ever-important beginning right. I think the
story starts in the wrong place, and I aim to fix that. Also the cover art is
clearly bad, and that will be fixed— by a professional. There are branding
issues as well, at least visually, and that’s going to be dealt with. Plus, the
title is wrong. I can finally admit that. Phantasmagoria is a cool and loaded
word, but most people blanch at it I think, at least if it’s in the title. And
by the way, if you want to have a hand in retitling this book, your contest entry
could win a free eBook at the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/CP-White-Media-Limited-Company/131727456875477" target="_blank">C.P. White Media Facebook page.</a> Just drop a
comment and suggest one.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve spent a long time sitting around waiting for the market
to respond to me. It could be said that it’s been time wasted. But in light of
the lessons I’m learning it’s been time well spent, at least if I can apply the
kinds of changes that will get me good results. At this point, good results
equal exposure, sales, and a loyal following that’s chomping at the bit for
more. I have faith that I can deliver that. Though my confidence is at a new
low artistically, it’s only for the time being. I can rise up and do better,
and that starts today. <o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-47950627473809320002012-09-11T08:39:00.000-07:002012-09-11T08:39:34.866-07:00An Awful Ode to Homemade Bread<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ki0iod6Ggoc/UE9a1x1kBAI/AAAAAAAAA_8/o1_VeTMw8J8/s1600/mariofarmer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="185" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ki0iod6Ggoc/UE9a1x1kBAI/AAAAAAAAA_8/o1_VeTMw8J8/s320/mariofarmer.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>This has nothing to do with anything...</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thy pockets are full</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of yeasty goodness<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Air apparent<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
-ly awesome in admixture with gluten<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thou art crusty<o:p></o:p></div>
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And toasty and buttered<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My teeth gnash<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
-ing across molecular webs that breadily fruiten<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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My mind is awhirl<o:p></o:p></div>
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A cascading torrent <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of bready texture<o:p></o:p></div>
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-s synapses fire ecstatically as I nosh<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wilt thou snog<o:p></o:p></div>
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O my slice<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Softly thy coo<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
-ing to me makes mouth water in lusty anticipation of biting
into your spongy innards<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>[This is better when
it’s performed, as opposed to being read—ed.]<o:p></o:p></i></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-71872085205021639282012-09-04T09:17:00.001-07:002012-09-04T15:06:31.909-07:00Hooked<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NkHd7fUJ2M4/UEYoOzGIZpI/AAAAAAAAA_g/9nfNdA7XrUg/s1600/hooked.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NkHd7fUJ2M4/UEYoOzGIZpI/AAAAAAAAA_g/9nfNdA7XrUg/s320/hooked.jpg" width="227" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Les Edgerton knows what he’s talking about. His eBook, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hooked-Write-Fiction-Readers-ebook/dp/B0033ZAVV2/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1346773422&sr=8-2&keywords=hooked+les+edgerton">Hooked</a>,</i>
lays down the law about how to begin your novel—and how, most likely, your
beginning could be much, much better. Making things worse, he doesn’t just
expect you to take his word for it. He gives plenty of examples that buttress
his point, like <i>Island of the Sequined Love
Nun</i> by Christopher Moore, a book now on my to-read list. Look, here’s the
deal: I know my writing has been changed for the better as a result of having
read <i>Hooked.</i> I now approach
everything differently.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Having said all that, it’s not that Edgerton’s research is
the last word on how you should write your novel. After all, that’s up to you,
and he doesn’t pretend it should be anything otherwise. What he offers is a
kind of road map on story—a little like <a href="http://cpwhitemedia.blogspot.com/2012/08/scene-structure-by-jack-m-bickham.html">Bickham</a>
did—except with far more emphasis on the opening bits, which are, at least in
the sense of one’s writing being a commercial endeavor, the most important.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At first the terms are a bit overwhelming (especially when
Edgerton talks about the ten core components of an opening scene, blasting you
upside the head with shoptalk terms you’ve probably never dreamt of), but as
one reads on it becomes clearer. In fact, I highlighted the crap out of my
Kindle edition because Edgerton constantly drops in these little nuggets of
truth and profundity that sit up and beg for it. Examples? Sure:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
“The first time a scene ends in success, the story is over.”</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m like, WHAT?!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
“A protagonist should not gain anything easily.”</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Okay, yeah. I knew that. No really. I did.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
“Summary doesn’t convince anyone of anything. Write that
down.”</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hey Les, look: I wrote it down. And now I have a bunch of
fluffy crap I need to go and delete elsewhere. Thanks a lot.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In fact, Edgerton’s book is so chock-full of great
resources, you should stop what you’re doing right now and download it.
Seriously. If you fancy yourself a writer, if you’re an indie author, if you’re
published and agented and signed and successful, you should read it. It can
only help you, and Edgerton points out other excellent resources too, like
Bickham’s <i>Scene and Structure,</i> and like
another I haven’t quite gotten to yet, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Writing-Well-30th-Anniversary-Edition/dp/0060891548/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1346775396&sr=8-1&keywords=on+writing+well+by+william+zinsser" target="_blank">On Writing Well</a></i> by William Zinsser (I’ll just take Les’s word for it that it’s
going to be outstanding when I finally do get round to it).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m not joking, this book will change your professional life
as a writer. What I found most alarming as I read through <i>Hooked</i> is that I’d been trading mostly on instinct and raw talent. The
emotional quotient to that, at least as an author, is pretty much just stark
terror. I was ignorant of the structure, the rules, the order of Story. And I
called myself an author?! Now that my mind has been peeled open a bit, I’m
soaking this stuff up like crazy. I really can’t recommend it highly enough. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hooked-Write-Fiction-Readers-ebook/dp/B0033ZAVV2/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1346773422&sr=8-2&keywords=hooked+les+edgerton">Go
get yours now.</a><o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-18970427905532727162012-09-03T18:06:00.000-07:002012-09-03T18:06:46.036-07:00Swiss Days 2012<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--NRapbvygTk/UEVTt81aawI/AAAAAAAAA_E/bwJWiChp9ck/s1600/SD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--NRapbvygTk/UEVTt81aawI/AAAAAAAAA_E/bwJWiChp9ck/s1600/SD.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For those of you who have seen the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/bookjunkydelux?feature=mhee">Swiss Days videos</a>,
I apologize. For those who’d rather read about my adventures (or who’d rather not
hear me <a href="http://youtu.be/fu8m1MY2KDo">sing when I’m bored</a>), I give
you the C. P. White Media Blog. I recently drove more than 800 miles in less
than 72 hours; a feat that favors the young (-er than I). I did it for <a href="http://www.midwayswissdays.com/">Swiss Days</a>. And it was pretty fun.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A good friend and colleague invited Aaron and me to pop on
down to Utah from Idaho for this event, which regularly draws more than 80,000
people to the tiny village of Midway, UT. It’s been going on for 65 years, and
it’s a great chance to experience a bona fide slice of Americana, with a Swiss
twist. Aaron wasn’t able to make it, so I took his Honda and set off, staying at
our friend’s house, where I slept on the couch and dreamt about miniature
Schnauzers and talked in my sleep very slowly: “Geeeeeeeet ouuuuuuuuut,” I said
at about three AM to the trespassing evil dream dog, which woke me up and
probably alarmed the other people sacked out in the living room. One doesn’t
expect to hear an authorial guest going on at literally <i>all</i> hours; I’m sure it was a little more than just irritating. So I
apologize to the people I offended/ horrified, and I have a feeling there’s
more of that kind of action in my professional future. Just cuz. It would
figure, that’s all.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I met some outstanding people at Swiss Days this year. I
signed lots of books and met tons of fans, some of whom had actually <i>heard </i>of<i> </i>the <i>Airel </i>saga, imagine
that! One young lady just couldn’t stop talking about how much she loved <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Airel-Young-Paranormal-Romance-ebook/dp/B004Y72XFA/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1346720396&sr=8-1&keywords=airel">Airel</a>
</i>and <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Michael-Airel-Saga-Book-ebook/dp/B0082GESJ8/ref=sr_1_2_bnp_1_kin?ie=UTF8&qid=1346720396&sr=8-2&keywords=airel">Michael</a></i>
and how she really hates that we keep leaving the reader hanging at the ends of
our novels. I’m going to blog soon about Les Edgerton’s book <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hooked-Write-Fiction-Readers-ebook/dp/B0033ZAVV2/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1346720456&sr=1-1&keywords=hooked+les+edgerton">Hooked</a>,</i>
which is about hooking the reader from sentence one (a great idea), but in
today’s world of the series novel it’s almost as important to hook the reader
at the end of books one, two, and three, assuming there’s only four books in
the series—it’s really the hook before the hook. And technically, the hook at
the end of book one is really the hook at the beginning of book two and so on.
Anyway, this young lady was chomping at the bit for book three: <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Uriel-The-Airel-Saga-Book/dp/1938426509/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1346720491&sr=1-1-catcorr&keywords=uriel+airel">Uriel</a>,</i>
which is coming soon (hopefully before the end of the year). If you want to be
in the loop, <a href="http://www.google.com/friendconnect/signin/home?st=e%3DAOG8GaAG8U4M3iecaJsoD5Pi7DoQ5S0dmMGJHSGLN3suoKup7v1DrDCfXENP%252FiEbLnQEMjUtwKA%252BZLqWJPMa6BDTjbSS8b1w9q9mOz9KisqPpPpQtGDtLx%252FXMtjog%252Bir97ww3Y%252BsiKgmt4iT2fBmh8kqPBe%252Bmt53kZzR0DMqZantA6Ex3MegP1%252Bhj3LuAVT6xkJs0YKiAJXzpzGP6lC2%252FrttA4NppVx4oJPtcy6R%252Bwrz72bNl43yxu8%253D%26c%3Dpeoplesense&psinvite=&subscribeOnSignin=1">subscribe</a>
to this here blog.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ll be headed back to Swiss Days next year. I was stunned
by the beauty of the event, and that includes the gracious people that
organized it, staffed it, and attended it. I’m super impressed. I’ll be
bringing my family back next year, and I probably won’t even have to bribe them
with a stop off at <a href="http://www.lagoonpark.com/">Lagoon</a> in order to
get them to go. And I woulda stayed longer, but my oldest boy got baptized that
weekend, so I had to leave early because I prioritize my fam—especially for
things like that (I actually got the be the one who baptized him, and in the
Boise River, no less). It was a momentous weekend for me. I’ll be sharing more
of what I learned as the blog pages turn. Until then.<o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-52269551002439545262012-08-29T13:22:00.000-07:002012-08-29T13:22:36.770-07:00Ode to the Hatred of Windows 7 (stop me if you’ve heard this one before)<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-86wPKOCKDOk/UD55Cs4fXHI/AAAAAAAAA-o/X6mefyGKtBM/s1600/argh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-86wPKOCKDOk/UD55Cs4fXHI/AAAAAAAAA-o/X6mefyGKtBM/s320/argh.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hate is so out of fashion these days, what with the moral
superiority of the amoral shouting down at us from the high horseback of the
religion of Save The Victim. I, however, have never been afraid of swimming
against the tide. Ask me if I have an ounce of give-a-crap on me. My hatred of
the Windows operating system is self-justified anyway because Windows refreshes
it anew at random maddening intervals. Which makes it worse.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Attempting to trust Windows 7 with one’s productivity is like
tasking a psychopath with cooking breakfast: you never know what kind of
results you might get. Here’s the application of my angst. I was innocently
using Inkscape, an open source (free) vector based graphic design program that’s
available not only for unlucky number seven Windows, but also for Mac, which I’d
wager is more stable in the same way that building one’s house on concrete is
more stable than building a skyscraper on the point of a sharpened pencil.
Granted, I was asking Windows for the exceptional: “pretty please with sugar on
top can you render an image for me at 300 dpi with the dimensions of 5.25
inches by 8.5 inches.” <ENTER></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Whereupon Windows thought (boy howdy do I use <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that </i>term loosely) for two hours and
then spat out an unusable file that no program installed on my machine could
read. You know what? I wasn’t the least bit surprised.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I then tried again. This is a regular occurrence for the
Windows user. Microsoft is apparently okay with its many millions of clients
being required to shoot craps on top of the OS that Gates built. The problem is
that this craps table is like an extra-coarse cheese grater and the dice fall
through the holes quite often. Anyway, I re-asked Windows 7 for permission to
please be productive. I set the Inkscape application (oops, Microsoft calls
them “programs,” not applications—that would be a Mac thing) working and then
stepped away for an hour, knowing Windows would need time to do its hair and
nails and gossip to the girl in the adjacent chair about how ambivalent it really
felt about the whole thing.</div>
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<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
WINDOWS 7: I don’t know, girl, it’s like this User I have
expects the world of me… he actually thinks I’ll obey when he clicks the
trackpad in certain ways!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
XP: Tell me about it! It’s like they think they can just pop
in and bark orders any time and get what they want. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
WINDOWS 7: Mmmmmm- hm. Girl, you know that’s right. I was
like, “Oh no, you didn’t just walk up in here without so much as a ‘hello’ or a
‘damn girl you look fine’ or anything. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
XP: Right?! Them fools be thinkin they can just have they
way wit us. I’m like, “Oh HAY-ull naw.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
WINDOWS 7: You got <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i>
right, girl!</div>
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One can predict how this ends. I sat back down at my Windows
machine to check on it—it’s the only OS on God’s green earth that needs a
babysitter—and what, to my utter shock, awe and surprise did I discover? Why,
only that Windows had refused to obey a direct order. I got the following
message:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
Inkscape has stopped responding… <DIAGNOSE></div>
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Whereupon I engaged in the ritual every Windows user knows
by heart: CTRL> ALT> DEL, which now, as opposed to the relative elegance
of XP, launches a menu window that gives the user more choices that are
actually not helpful at all but instead just add an unnecessary extra step
before you get to the Task Manager you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i>
want. I clicked on the Task Manager choice, and the all-too-familiar little
window opened before me, showing me that yes, Inkscape had indeed stopped
responding to my commands. Big surprise. I then force quit the app…er, program.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then Windows 7 popped up <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">another
</i>window, this one ostensibly helpful:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
Windows is checking for a solution to the problem… <CANCEL></div>
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I lost it. I shouted at my computer, “WINDOWS DOESN’T NEED
TO CHECK FOR A SOLUTION TO THE FRIGGIN PROBLEM; WINDOWS <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">IS</i> THE PROBLEM!” Then I calmly clicked CANCEL.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I then engaged in another ritual Windows users find all too
familiar: I started all over again. Sigh…</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-74712746748354508782012-08-28T09:32:00.000-07:002012-08-28T09:32:36.277-07:00The Wagner Diary<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VB2Wr5Lev4M/UDzxh4GcAbI/AAAAAAAAA94/uSUC3SMVY4k/s1600/Wagner+Final+epub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VB2Wr5Lev4M/UDzxh4GcAbI/AAAAAAAAA94/uSUC3SMVY4k/s320/Wagner+Final+epub.jpg" width="232" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It seems like it’s been forever, I’ll tell you that much. I
wrote <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Marsburg-Diary-Airel-Books-ebook/dp/B005NSEC4O/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1346171241&sr=1-3" target="_blank">The Marsburg Diary</a>,</i> or at least
I started writing it, over a year ago. It started off as a Stoker-esque
historical horror piece, but through the constructive criticism of my friends,
it became far more. Harvey Marsburg was born. He took on the traits of a couple
of people I’ve met in my travels, at least in regard to the amount of Dr.
Pepper he consumes (one of my LAV school instructors practically survived on
the stuff; a 2-liter of it was always with him like it was part of his uniform
of the day). I think ol’ Harv is what makes the series great. He’s like a fifty
year old male version of Airel: a little eccentric and proud of it, with the
occasional amusing bits of inner dialogue.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But Harvey’s also a little bit of my own personal fantasy
doppelganger, too. He’s British, and I’m borderline obsessed with British
culture. I’ve been digging for tasty bits of slang to use, and I fairly
splattered the second installment in the Airel Saga Diary Books with a liberal
amount of it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some of the criticism I got about <i>The Marsburg Diary</i> was that it was pretty meaty. You know, all that
Victorian English stuff (which I love, and tried to make as authentic as
possible). So to wit, the second book has lots more of Harvey. I had to
integrate new characters and new diary lines, so the flashback diary bits are
more of a seasoning than the main course. You’ll see a little bit more of
William Marsburg’s personal thoughts, but the main event is Herr Wagner’s diary
entries, which feature a little more of the infamous Mr. Rotheram. And I
promise, in this book we finally get to the bottom of that haunting line, “I
have always hated Falkenhayn.” Taking my cues from Goethe’s <i>Faust,</i> I really quite enjoyed writing
the quintessentially evil Falkenhayn, and hope you enjoy reading him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Want an excerpt? I knew you did:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Deep in the wood,
somewhere in Illinois~<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I probably needed a change of underwear.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;">
Have you ever woken up to the
sunrise after sleeping on a forest floor? Let me put it to you this way: it’s
not like an advert for yoghurt and granola on telly, where the sun is gentle
and there are woodland fairies to caress one’s cheeks. It’s bleeding awful. I
felt like bugs were crawling all over me, I itched profusely, and I had managed
to injure my neck and head with what I had decided to use for a pillow the
night previous— a rounded stone. I was as stiff as grandmother’s knickers (whom
I never met, God rest her soul).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;">
It’s funny about getting older— when
I was young, I was superman. Getting hurt was a rare thing that usually required
me to do something really stupid. But now that I’m nearing fifty, all I have to
do is wake up. I will try to rise to a sitting position and I’ll have sustained
an injury.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;">
Cautiously, then, I raised myself
from the dirt. Gradually. Sloooowly. Never mind being nearly fifty. I felt
dead.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“What happened?” I asked no one. I
was half expecting an answer though, and looked around to confirm my solitude.
I was greeted by none but the lone piercing sun in the east. I raised a hand to
my brow to shield my eyes, the back of my hand brushing against a twig that had
stuck itself to my forehead in the night— which scared me. After dancing around
in fear for a moment, though, I finally calmed myself enough to gather my
things, tend to the morning necessities, and begin walking.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;">
Where? Out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;">
What else could I do?<o:p></o:p></div>
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My car was dead. I had shot it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And though my bestial enemy was
dead too, or at least I assumed so, I also assumed there were no others like
him chasing me round the wilderness. If there were, I reasoned, I wouldn’t have
awakened at all. At any rate, I was an expatriate Englishman stuck within one
of the islanded wilds of rural Midwestern America, stranded without a car,
carrying only my backpack. My life had been whittled to that and its random
plebian contents, with an especial consideration for those three books inside.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;">
I checked my Ruger revolver. Empty
still, of course. Anything else would have been uninteresting, after all. I
shoved it back into my waistband at the small of my back.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I trudged on.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;">
It wasn’t long before the wood
began to thin out and brighten up. Trees gave way to scrub and brambles, which
I tried to skirt around as best I could, moving toward some kind of exit.
Nature doesn’t clearly mark these things.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;">
Offhand I wondered what in the
world I was going to do now. I was out in the middle of Illinois, somewhere
south of Champaign, about an hour’s drive. That put me at least a hundred miles
from my home in Chatham. The last road sign I remembered seeing was one for
Tuscola, another anonymous American village utterly surrounded by corn. I knew
at least that my wanderings had taken me off the beaten track and that I was
far from help, far from home. Being on foot just made it worse.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I finally found a clear path to
the edge of the wood, which was itself clearly defined: a gently curving
razor’s edge, to one side of which there was unruly nature— brush and forest— and
on the other side tall corn in perfect rows, towering at least two feet over my
head, tassels waving in the early morning breeze.<o:p></o:p></div>
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That was the first time I felt what
I call “the slip.” Like something just wasn’t quite right. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some part of my brain was asking urgently why there should
be a corn field ready for harvest in the middle of May. It was like gazing at
an Escher; something was definitely not lining up here…<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0092TUTZG" target="_blank">The Wagner Diary</a> </i>is
now available for Kindle. Nook users have to wait until tomorrow. Or the next
day. Or the next day.<o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-82880548092769665612012-08-24T10:12:00.000-07:002012-08-24T10:12:18.680-07:00Apple and the Status Quo in ePublishing<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c5lgqP0fqCg/UDe04K_FAwI/AAAAAAAAA9c/PIUa6LJ1zNE/s1600/badapple.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c5lgqP0fqCg/UDe04K_FAwI/AAAAAAAAA9c/PIUa6LJ1zNE/s1600/badapple.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Bad Apple...</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cupertino, we have a problem. The worst part of it is that
it’s preventable. One of two things is happening: either the folks at Apple are
dull (not likely) or they’re doing this on purpose. Let’s get right to it: if
you want to distribute your eBook content through the iBookstore via Apple, you
have to own a Mac. Period. Really.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Okay, maybe there are technically some loopholes—one can
always go through one of their recommended third party epub converters, but
that takes quality control out of the hands of the average indie publisher.
Strike that option then, at least for my company, because I like to be able to
control my final product (Apple understandably does not guarantee the quality
of work from these guys). Another option that’s a little gray market, and would
probably be frowned upon by the Apple cognoscenti, is the idea of borrowing a
friend’s Mac in order to shoulder one’s way into the iBookstore. But I don’t
like that either, because again, I like to do things in-house and I like to run
my business with integrity. So there’s no other way than to just buy a Mac.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And I love Macs. I have one that’s too old to matter and
doesn’t work. I want a new one, and I plan on buying one soon. It’s just the
principle of the thing. Why, when I have a perfectly awesome epub file on my
Windows hard drive, a conversion I have performed personally and carefully, does
Apple <i>require</i> that it be uploaded to
their eStore through iTunes Producer—an application that’s, you guessed it, Mac
only. It’s not even available for iPhone or iPad, at least as far as I could
find out (though I recall seeing some faint rumors about an iPad version, but I
couldn’t find one). Really, Apple? This kind of eTyranny is something I would
have expected from Microsoft, not you—if I didn’t know better. But I’m an
iPhone user, and I’ve learned a little about how there are <i>some</i> things We the End User are not permitted to question. Or
change. Or customize. It’s officially ridiculous as far as I’m concerned.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My experience? I’m glad you asked. First, I’m a bit
stupefied as to why iTunes hasn’t had a name change yet, because, hello, iTunes
is more like iMedia or iGateway, at least the way Apple uses it. But anyway if you
want to publish your work to the iBookstore, you first must have an iTunes
account, which seems a little diversionary. You must give them a credit card
too, and when they have that information they will charge you a dollar as a
nice little thank you. Wow. Mind you, they don’t give you a heads up about it,
they just <i>do </i>it. It’s only a buck,
but what the hell. I mean, it’s a <i>buck,</i>
you know? Anyway, when you have an iTunes account (oh by the way, in order to
set that up you have to download and install iTunes), then you can Google around
and try to find the link that directs you to Apple’s application to become an
affiliate, whereupon you must fill out some blanks and then wait for Apple to
approve you from on high. Once that’s done, you must then give them your
contact information, banking information, tax information, and then “request” a
contract (which also must be approved) and accept the terms and conditions
before moving forward as a publisher. Only then, at the end of about a week of
back and forth, do you discover to your dismay that if you’re a Windows-based
indie publisher, you’re totally screwed. Why? Because in order to upload your
epub files to the iBookstore, you must download and install iTunes Producer, an
OSX-only app. So you <i>have </i>to have
iTunes and you <i>have</i> to have iTunes
Producer and you <i>have</i> to have a Mac. <i>But they disclose none of this up front.</i>
I’ve also heard tell, on some forum sites, that after all that nonsense the
indie publisher must also run the gauntlet of Apple’s “quality assurance”
process (whereupon they vet your work for spurious content, probably), which
can take a very long time. One user reported that he had been waiting <i>six weeks</i> for Apple to approve his work,
without so much as an email to let him know they were still working on it, they
apologize for the delay, yadayada. Hey, Apple. I can upload and my eBooks to
Amazon and Barnes & Noble with Web-based software that works on any device,
and it goes live usually in less than 24 hours. What’s so hard about that?<o:p></o:p></div>
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I can only conclude that Apple is attempting to force the
market to do things it does not want to do, which is a bit like China being
communistical and yet enjoying all the benefits of capitalism that they learned
from the British back when Hong Kong was still the center of wealth in their
world. Isn’t it ironic? Don’t you think? A little <i>too</i> ironic. If I buy a Mac, it won’t be because of this publishing
issue. It won’t be because I’ve been forced into it by the iTunes Producer
snafu; I won’t permit them to force my hand like that. It will be because I
need a professional tool, and because Mac is the gold standard of computing,
pure and simple. Unfortunately, the fools in the control room continue to place
the Cupertino farm in jeopardy by marginalizing its true potential, attempting to
strangle the market into doing unnatural things. I think eventually, and
ironically, if Apple is going to be a major player in eBooks (like, ahem, Amazon),
they’re going to have to do the exact opposite of what they're doing now and acquiesce to We the End Users and get with the
program. Until then, we suffer through mild tyranny because of how frankly
excellent the other parts of the biz are. But if Apple had to stake its entire biz on
its approach to eBooks, you’d better kiss it goodbye.<o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-9667385597592743492012-08-23T19:16:00.000-07:002012-08-23T19:23:52.937-07:00The Marsburg Diary, Second Edition<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4okGORYzJ5c/UDbiw3CbgRI/AAAAAAAAA9A/bG8ou7Pwg-Q/s1600/marsburg+final+for+pub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4okGORYzJ5c/UDbiw3CbgRI/AAAAAAAAA9A/bG8ou7Pwg-Q/s320/marsburg+final+for+pub.jpg" width="218" /></a></div>
One of the things I love most about eBooks, and about being a published eBook author, is that things are easy to change if they need spicing up. I enlisted the help of my friend Joey, who is the man behind the <a href="http://www.jammyadventures.com/" target="_blank">Great Jammy Adventures</a> illustrations, to scribble a little on some ideas I've wanted to incorporate into the cover for Book One of the Airel Saga Diary Series: <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Marsburg-Diary-Airel-Books-ebook/dp/B005NSEC4O/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1345774418&sr=1-1&keywords=the+marsburg+diary" target="_blank">The Marsburg Diary</a> </i>[the link won't update with the new cover until Friday].<br />
<i><br /></i>
I've made a few little changes in the text, but nothing substantive; mostly it's on the copyright page. I'm very pleased to reveal the new cover art. This format will carry across the Diary Series line. You'll see what I mean when Book Two, <i>The Wagner Diary,</i> reveals next month. There's been a lot of work going on behind the scenes on this, and things are going to start moving quickly as we get closer to fall and Christmas. The best part? My work will gradually be migrating across to all your favorite platforms... like the Barnes & Noble Nook and Nook Color, and the iPad and iPhone iBooks app. It's all coming soon. Stay tuned to this space.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-62405848380287825592012-08-12T08:12:00.000-07:002012-09-04T15:06:31.899-07:00Scene & Structure, by Jack M. Bickham<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2tIK8sRAsXM/UCfFlAXBUaI/AAAAAAAAA8k/mjy8Nis-YKc/s1600/snsbickham.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2tIK8sRAsXM/UCfFlAXBUaI/AAAAAAAAA8k/mjy8Nis-YKc/s320/snsbickham.jpg" width="198" /></a></div>
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I found out about this book in the process of reading
another eTome; <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hooked-Write-Fiction-Readers-ebook/dp/B0033ZAVV2/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1344783835&sr=1-1&keywords=hooked+edgerton" target="_blank">Hooked,</a></i> by Les
Edgerton. Edgerton’s is an instruction manual for the modern author that
induces a lot of #facepalm action, to say the least, and Bickham’s <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Elements-Fiction-Writing-Scene-Structure/dp/0898799066/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1344783782&sr=8-1&keywords=scene+and+structure" target="_blank">Scene & Structure</a></i> is the same (More
on <i>Hooked</i> in another post). In other
words, if you’re an author or writer, or even an aspiring wannabe with good
intentions and several partial chapter ones lying around, these books ought to
be on your reference shelf. Period.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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I edit manuscripts. I’m quite good at it, but this book has
been a godsend, allowing me to refine my craft. Mostly what I’ve done in the past has been to follow my gut and play devil’s advocate, asking questions the author hasn’t thought of. I drop comments like this into the
middle of everything: “If Jack is so smart, how come I figured Jill out three
chapters ago? ARGH.” I also have an eye for spelling and grammar, which has
served me well. But <i>Scene & Structure</i>
goes well beyond all that, and it’s going to help me provide much more value
for money to my clientele, as well as an increase in my rates.<o:p></o:p></div>
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On with it, then. Bickham starts small and simple by giving us the big
picture. He outlines the structure of modern fiction, tells us how to begin a
story and what’s essential—and furthermore, what needs to get deleted from or
changed in our manuscripts (which in most cases will be a quite a lot).<o:p></o:p></div>
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What really hooked me, though, was his detailed analysis of
the scene.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Scenes are where the action is. We see the characters on the
stage of the mind’s eye, which isn’t a stage—it feels real. Edgerton calls it
the “fictive dream,” which is apt. That’s why it’s so electric when it’s
written well—and so awful when it’s total crap. Bickham’s book will illustrate for
you quite profoundly if your work is in one camp or the other, because if you
don’t have a story question that the protag has to answer, if you don’t have a
scene question he’s also trying to answer, if you don’t have a scene goal he’s
trying to attain, and if the scene doesn’t end in some kind of disaster—a setback—for
the hero, you’ve got milquetoast on your hard drive. And miles of rewriting
before you’re home.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Contrast that with sequel, which is really the antidote to
scene, and you’ve got something with a pattern, a pace, an ebb and flow. Scenes
drive the story forward. They contain problems and cause-and-effect stimuli.
They’ve got guns and daggers and car chases. They goad us into turning the
page. But sequel allows the characters to take a step back and internalize.
Sequels read slower, so they’re usually more effective when they’re shorter. In a
sequel, we get to see more of what the protag (or the villain) is thinking,
what makes her tick; we get the backstory. We understand more of the why behind
a character’s actions, and the author gets to set up the next scene for us. But
in order to do this well, Brave Author needs to write effectively for Dear
Reader. As “they” say, if you’re gonna break the rules, first you gotta learn ‘em.
I would add that one ought to add a dash of reverence as well, because the
greats are great for a reason.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The biggest danger to the indie author, who nine times out
of ten is ignorant and uneducated about these things, is that most of us can “feel”
our way through what makes a story compelling. But just because we can write by
gut feeling doesn’t mean we should. It’s dangerous to guess your way through
the disarming of a bomb. Maybe it <i>will</i>
be the red wire that needs to be cut, but maybe it <i>won’t.</i> This plays into Booker’s <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Seven-Basic-Plots-Tell-Stories/dp/0826480373/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1344783863&sr=1-1&keywords=seven+basic+plots" target="_blank">SevenBasic Plots,</a></i> too, because all of us have a hard wired intuition about
story. We may not be aware of the precise nomenclature or structure of what
makes a story work, but we know when it rocks and when it’s a dud. Bickham
demystifies all that and reveals to the reader (the aspiring author) whether or
not he’s been trading on hard-won skill and understanding or just raw talent.
Ouch.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I cannot stress to you enough how important this book is. If
you’re trying to make a hobby out of writing, it’s a stimulating read. If you’re
at all serious about making a career as a published author, this book is
required reading. As for me, I’m going to incorporate these lessons into my
writing and editing. I’ll soon finish Edgerton’s book, too, and post up my
thoughts on that. These two books are changing everything about my writing—and that’s
a good thing.<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-25494456915758713532012-08-11T14:06:00.000-07:002012-08-11T14:06:21.024-07:00The Writing Shed, Part Five<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S6zaBPqjyyM/UCbHiRs3E_I/AAAAAAAAA7U/k--YnT303lc/s1600/IMG_0613.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S6zaBPqjyyM/UCbHiRs3E_I/AAAAAAAAA7U/k--YnT303lc/s320/IMG_0613.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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My brother and I have decided that close not only counts in horseshoes
and hand grenades, but that it also counts in regard to framing. Especially
when it comes to sheds. Granted, lots of guys are precise to about an eighth of
an inch. My brother is far more picky, so a job done in the slovenly midlander
fashion for him is about par for the rest of the world.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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We started in the morning pretty early. I don’t know what it
is about Idaho weather, but as soon as one thinks about installing a roof, it
will rain. It did that day, but only briefly, as if to say, “Ha ha hurl.” Anyway,
the first truss is the most important because everything else depends on it for
layout, plumb, and square; and also because of global warming. As such,
naturally, you’ll want to consult your guidebook of sailormouth expletives
because the first truss will also probably be a cast iron Mongolian cluster
flock. It wasn’t so bad. It only took about an hour to fix all the mistakes I
had made on the walls that translated quite logically into the roof. See, this
is why I have help. And he pays off in cheap beers, which is even better.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vZJNUbVMBZE/UCbHuzOPxII/AAAAAAAAA7c/4qaWmmZaOeU/s1600/IMG_0617.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vZJNUbVMBZE/UCbHuzOPxII/AAAAAAAAA7c/4qaWmmZaOeU/s320/IMG_0617.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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It wasn’t long before we had installed two or three of the
trusses, and things were going right along. Note the bracing. The tails of the
trusses were allowed to run “wild.” We would cut them off later. Twice. Really.
You’ll notice at some point in the perusal of these images that the roof has a
certain asymmetrical stance to it. This is one hundred percent intentional and
not in any way the result of a mistake of any kind by anyone involved on the
job. It is also not similar to an episode of ancient history involving two men,
one of whom was helping with this roof, who at one point were replacing the
starter on my old Euro-Ford whilst drinking beer and then proceeded to catch
the car on fire. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UD0l503Ecr4/UCbH04TVH3I/AAAAAAAAA7k/0HjThjx8q-I/s1600/IMG_0619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UD0l503Ecr4/UCbH04TVH3I/AAAAAAAAA7k/0HjThjx8q-I/s320/IMG_0619.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Adding to the hilarity and all around enjoyable nature of
the day, we had “help” from two small children who happened to be walking by
and spontaneously began climbing ladders, brandishing hammers and saws, and
mostly saying, “Hey dad! Watch this!” So we had no excuse, therefore, to not
build the best damn shed roof you ever saw. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ame_DL9GNqc/UCbH6_SwrzI/AAAAAAAAA7w/dsFqW3QGRrY/s1600/IMG_0621.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ame_DL9GNqc/UCbH6_SwrzI/AAAAAAAAA7w/dsFqW3QGRrY/s320/IMG_0621.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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We eventually built ourselves right out of materials and had
to run to Home Depot, where we parked in the PRO CUSTOMER parking, which I
think is self-explanatory, obviously. We brought home a bag of H clips (which
are officially called something else in order to be as confusing as possible),
some tiko nails, and lots of sheathing. Either my neighbors love me and prefer
generosity, or I have angered them and provoked them to rummaging around in
their spare parts bin and giving me various tidbits to hurry the project along.
I prefer to think it’s the former, with gifts like this. My Dutch neighbor from
across the street gave me this gable end vent, which is precisely what I need
in order to make the winter season cigar ventilation device work properly. More
on that some other time.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Once all the trusses were set, we had lunch. There was some
homemade lasagna from the night before. It tasted even better the next day. The
sauce was homemade from Italian sausage, pepperoni, crushed tomatoes, basil,
garlic, sun dried tomatoes, sherry, and salt. I never knew they had those
oven-ready lasagna noodles; boy howdy. What a time saver. I also found whole
milk ricotta and mozzarella. That really made it. But it has almost nothing to
do with building a shed, so on with the subject matter. But note the asymmetry.
Again, this has nothing to do with beer. The longer eaves on the west side will
create a safe place to hang my rakes and shovels while also keeping them handy.
It’s intentional. I told my brother, “My wife will hate it. But I love it
because it’s just slightly eccentric. Make it so.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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We started nailing the sheathing down after lunch. We let
the ends run wild because, after we determined the length of the overhang for
the gables (we’re basically freehanding this; there are no plans), we would
only have to make one cut. Smart! Even with beer. The H clips install on the
top edge of the sheathing in between the trusses, adding strength, and for
cheap. They serve to tie the sheathing together top to bottom on their
horizontal edge.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xLii8sWi0DM/UCbIOnHDqcI/AAAAAAAAA8I/D8K31FFz-Xk/s1600/IMG_0628.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xLii8sWi0DM/UCbIOnHDqcI/AAAAAAAAA8I/D8K31FFz-Xk/s320/IMG_0628.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After what felt like a wrestling match with a cougar (not
the sultry sophisticated kind), we were pretty much done. The incredulous look
my brother had given me at the beginning of the day, when he had discovered
that I had built the trusses to an 8/12 pitch, was now understandable. My body
hurt from fingertip to toenail. As a matter of fact, I can still feel it, and
it’s not nice. But we did good work, and I’m proud of it. Now I can fill in my
gable ends and complete some of the framing on the inside (for finish work like
sheetrock). I can do that all by myself. Which probably means it will be
asymmetrical, and that will be intentional. Duh.<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-79927811536752771732012-08-08T12:49:00.000-07:002012-08-08T12:49:05.357-07:00The Ongoing Saga of YES!<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gd3BnO06qTs/UCLCLZdvfVI/AAAAAAAAA64/0PLh82RNrpQ/s1600/IMG_0607.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gd3BnO06qTs/UCLCLZdvfVI/AAAAAAAAA64/0PLh82RNrpQ/s320/IMG_0607.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is weird, but I was driving home from my AM writing session
at my local coffee shop when I saw a car driving erratically on my street. The
connection was quickly made that it was the same one I usually see whenever the
YES! pink poobag drops on my lawn twice a week. Now, remember: I already called
the <i>Idaho Statesman</i> about cancelling
my subscription to their direct delivery junkmail paper. I was told that I
would be unsusbscribed. But I didn’t hold my breath. Good thing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I watched as the erratic driver slowed in front of my house.
A pink bomb was hurled from the car and the driver moved on to the next “customer”.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh no, you dit-n’t,” I said as I nailed the throttle in hot
pursuit of liberty and justice. I tracked my friendly neighborhood carrier down
posthaste and politely informed her that I had unsubscribed last week from the
product she had just delivered. She told me she’d had a family emergency and
hadn’t updated her manifest yet. I said I was sorry for her loss, but again
reminded her of my address and asked her for a discontinuance of the service. She
thanked me for the reminder and then I drove off.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was fortuitous that I just happened to be a block or two
behind her when the coupons were delivered. I was able to defend my hearth and
home against the unsolicited pink menace of the <i>Statesman’s </i>YES! scourge. We’ll see if I get the results I want. If
I don’t, I’m open to suggestions from the peanut gallery as to how I ought to
solve it—so long as they’re legal, natch.<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-34455470904334511162012-08-07T13:59:00.000-07:002012-08-07T13:59:48.187-07:00Why You Need Dun & Bradstreet<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s9Amsc435Ic/UCGA6iE4FaI/AAAAAAAAA5w/SRrzTSkW_PQ/s1600/dnb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s9Amsc435Ic/UCGA6iE4FaI/AAAAAAAAA5w/SRrzTSkW_PQ/s320/dnb.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ya know, for all the hype about college degrees out there,
one would think they’d provide some kind of real world benefit. In my case, I
hold a bachelor of science in Business/e-Business from the University of
Phoenix and it’s pretty in its little frame on my wall, but that’s about it. No
college is perfect, but most of what I learned from college is how to persevere
and complete things, how to work online across big distances and how to reach
my goals. Beyond that, the subject material wasn’t very pragmatic, in my
opinion.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wish there was a do-it-all college program out there for
entrepreneurs. But then again, I don’t, because the best school for
entrepreneurism has been and continues to be the real world. What the small
business owner does on a daily basis is so opposite from the ivory tower of
academia it’s not even funny. And now that I’m done whining about things, I can
move on.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Still, a list of do’s and don’ts would have been nice. I do
wish somebody would have told me about <a href="https://iupdate.dnb.com/iUpdate/viewiUpdateHome.htm">Dun & Bradstreet</a>
friggin years ago. You can get some info on them from the <a href="http://www.sba.gov/content/managing-your-business-credit">SBA</a>, which
is where my journey started off recently. My business is growing. It’s getting
to the point where I have to start thinking differently about how it operates.
One of the more important operational building blocks is how my business appears
in the eyes of potential clients and creditors. The only way to manage that is
to get a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Data_Universal_Numbering_System">DUNS
number</a>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wikipedia has more: “The Data Universal Numbering System,
abbreviated as DUNS® or D-U-N-S®, is a system developed and regulated by Dun
& Bradstreet (D&B) that assigns a unique numeric identifier, referred
to as a "DUNS number" to a single business entity. It was introduced
in 1963 to support D&B's credit reporting practice. It is a common standard
worldwide. DUNS users include the European Commission, the United Nations and
the United States government. More than 50 global, industry, and trade
associations recognize, recommend, or require DUNS. The DUNS database contains
over 100 million entries for businesses throughout the world.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This isn’t about getting credit for my business. It’s mostly
about being intentional and proactive about managing what’s there. It would be
a pity to lose a client based on false, bad, or missing information from
D&B. When I searched my company on their Web site, they popped up an older sole
proprietorship that has nothing to do with my current venture, so I knew I
needed to take action. I tried changing the info on the Web site, but had
difficulty.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That’s the one caveat I have to share with you. The iupdater
page on the D&B Web site is a bit clunky and frustrating—at least in my
case. I was using Chrome and thought seriously about changing browsers for this
task, but eventually I just threw up my hands and called in. The D&B staff
were extremely helpful and polite and got me all properly sorted in about
fifteen minutes with a few questions as to the details of my biz. I recommend
that you look into getting a DUNS number if you’re at all serious about running
your own business more seriously.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I incorporated, I filed with the Idaho Secretary of
State and then dutifully popped over to the <a href="https://irs-ein-number.com/?gclid=CO7UsqOw1rECFaOMTAodtnAAiw">IRS Web
site</a> to get my EIN so I could open a business account at my bank. But as
far as <i>business credit</i> was concerned,
I <i>wasn’t</i>. Happily, as soon as D&B
is finished with my report, I will be able to get the detailed picture (or so
they say) on how my little LLC appears to the world at large, inside and
outside of my industry. It’s not free, but there’s a cost to doing business.
For about thirty bucks a month, I can stay on top of things in regard to this
side of my operations. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ll have more to report when I get my report, and,
naturally, as time goes by. My question to you is this: if you have Lifelock or
some other personal credit monitoring service watching out for your personal details,
why would you not also be mindful of your business’ credit picture? For me, it’s
my livelihood. It’s a no brainer. I’ll let you know soon if it seems like the
D&B folks have helped or hindered me.<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-53321579241846096352012-08-06T09:57:00.002-07:002012-08-06T09:57:34.395-07:00I Built My Business, Mr. President (No Thanks To You)<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EJtAbO36ntY/UB_1ZWzUGNI/AAAAAAAAA5Y/ld2zcOjX1DA/s1600/bo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EJtAbO36ntY/UB_1ZWzUGNI/AAAAAAAAA5Y/ld2zcOjX1DA/s320/bo.jpg" width="235" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Entrepreneurs don’t ever stop. We never take vacations. When
a man or woman is building a business from the ground up, he or she doesn’t
have the luxury of taking anything for granted. It’s one hundred percent all
the time; the plucky small businessman goes everywhere with the burden of his
company on his shoulders. The entrepreneur doesn’t take time off, she has no “down
time;” even if she’s sitting in front of the television she’s working, thinking
of how to expand her biz, how to add more income streams, how to better serve
her clientele, how to expand her product and service portfolio.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Contrast this picture with the following: A national
organization that shall remain nameless gets the meals it provides funded by
the federal government. If one were to travel through the line for one of those
said meals, getting a dollop of slop plopped on one’s plate, and if one were to
attempt to bypass, say, the milk, one would be told, “You have to take the
milk. If you don’t, we won’t get credit for using our allotment and our federal
funding will drop. Take it, and if you don’t want it, drop it in the box at the
end of the line and we’ll re-use it.” I shouldn’t have to belabor this
illustration, but this is where backward federal baseline budgets have taken
us. If you don’t see how this is dishonest at its best—and theft in truth—you might
as well stop reading this, because your mind is dead. But baseline budgets are <i>de rigeur</i> in the house that capitalism
built (and socialism is actively eating).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At no time does the thought <i>I feel secure because I know the government is helping me</i> enter the
mind of the bootstrapper. If anything, anyone who has ever tried to start up
their own business feels the government is antagonistic to everything he is
trying to do. The entrepreneur must beware of all kinds of tax regulations—some
of which are written to be ambiguous on purpose, like the weird way the Idaho
State Tax Commission allows businesses to “voluntarily” (you’ve gotta read the
fine print to discover this) pay more taxes on internet-based sales. Does the ISTC
not know that taxes are kryptonite to prosperity? Why on earth would any sane
person volunteer to pay more taxes? But now the leftist brainiacs are spouting
the lie that somehow paying higher taxes is morally superior. The Catholic
church had a similar program (the paying of indulgences for the forgiveness of
sin) before the Reformation. There’s nothing new under the sun. How ironic that
those who proselytize us about the religion of recycling are themselves
recycling a concept that’s a thousand years old: guilt as a motivator. My
wicked step mother tried raising me like that, and I hate her to this day.
Almost as much as I hate how the Obama government operates. But I digress.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The entrepreneur must beware of producing too much, lest he
commit the sin of moving into a higher tax bracket and thereby suffer the sting
of the long arm of the tax law, which punishes production. I know a guy who was
forced by logic at the end of his fiscal year to plunk down a large amount of
money on office equipment he didn’t need—because, the way the income tax
brackets work, he could either spend money on something functional or write a
check to the IRS for the same amount. That was a no-brainer. The government has
too much already, and they don’t deploy it efficiently. Exhibit A would be the
story about the milk above.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know another couple that had a great year working their
butts off only to find that it was all for naught—their tax bill went through
the roof. They decided the subsequent year to reduce their production <i>so they could make more money,</i> which is
backward as hell. This is how things are in the real world right now, and
worse. Question: if we live in a consumer economy, why do we not then tax
consumption, instead of doing things backwards? But still, I digress.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve lately been brainstorming ways to better build my
business. Being that I live and breathe by Web-based sales, I don’t have to
volunteer to pay the Idaho sales tax, which is six percent. And trust me, I
minimize my tax obligations ruthlessly. That’s the American way. The government
ought to earn the right to take my money, but instead it’s the other way
around: I have to earn the right to keep it; the onus is upon the business
owner to navigate the treacherous bevy of legislation, regulation, and taxation
that assaults us from all quarters. No wonder so many of us were outraged by
what our sitting president said about all our work being nullified by the very
presence of infrastructure in our lives—a crazy ass thing to say. It’s clear
what our president believes in: government, not God. Marxist redistribution,
not hard work being its own reward. But again, I digress.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Trust me, if you’re a hard working entrepreneur (is there
any other kind?) you’re not alone. We are the majority in America today. With
the uncertainty in the workplace, why not strike out on your own and take the
risks of being self-employed? At least then if you’re downsized out of a job
you’ll know who to blame (you). With the volatility in real estate and on Wall
Street, why not make your primary investment in you, rather than sending your
401(k) to the gamblers in NYC? At least then if you utterly fail and your
retirement is wiped out, you’ll know who to blame (you). As it stands, with the
government engaging in a hostile takeover of the entire world, the central
planners amongst us just might be unwittingly stoking the fires of an enormous
backfire—that will explode in their faces—because if the government is
responsible for everything, guess who
gets blamed when everything goes wrong? Bingo: BHO is his name-o (and friends,
Republican and Democrat).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is not an endorsement of Obama’s opponent, in November,
Romney. Far from it. As one of my friends might say, we really have no options
anymore. The powers that be have propped up the candidates they want us to
choose from, and frankly neither one of them is what I want. We are being told
who to vote for. For me, Romney is milquetoast. I don’t know him from Adam. I <i>do </i>know to a certainty that I do not
want Obama to win a second term. Hint: it has absolutely nothing to do with
race. He is a known quantity that has been measured and found wanting. He’s
more of a punishment than anything else. His tenure in office is like God’s
judgment against a wayward nation. Will we wake up? Who knows. Obama has told
us who he is and we know what he wants to accomplish. Basically that is the
castration of America. And it’s nothing new; the French invented <i>revanchist</i> politics hundreds of years
ago (which begs the question of why Barack Obama is so angry, and what he wants
revenge for—I leave that to you). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the end, the entrepreneur has enough opposition working
against him. We don’t need the government lecturing us, acting morally superior
(which irritates the hell out of me). Federal bureaucrats haven’t the slightest
clue about the real world. I know of a couple who both work for the federal
government—they live in a $500k house and drive Cadillac Escalades. This guy’s
home theatre is like his own personal IMAX—and they do it all with my money,
your money. They don’t live in the real world. They live in a fairy tale, and
nothing is real to them—especially the price we pay in order to pay them. Are they
grateful? I can’t say. But I don’t see them volunteering to pay higher taxes.
If that’s the measure of holiness these days, these federal employees have
fallen short of the goal. But sadly, we the people who are paying their
salaries are encrusted with ambivalence. “Meh,” we say. It’s sad. Because
things could still change. America could still heal; it’s not too late. But it won’t—not,
at least, with people like Obama in power.<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-54663669038075305552012-08-02T10:34:00.000-07:002012-08-02T10:34:04.443-07:00Your Essential Shopper YES! and how to get rid of it<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oHEtiTti6TQ/UBq5JmcX1WI/AAAAAAAAA5A/zbrxprkByis/s1600/IMG_0578%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oHEtiTti6TQ/UBq5JmcX1WI/AAAAAAAAA5A/zbrxprkByis/s320/IMG_0578%5B1%5D.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve been receiving the YES! straight-to-the-trash “newspaper”
for about half a year now. I never asked for it. I never, not once heard from
the Idaho Statesman (a Gannett company) about whether or not I wanted it (they
allege that a previous resident at my address gave them permission). But twice
a week, it showed up any-damn-way, a pile of pink bagged garbage, a condomized
collection of junk mail just sitting in my yard, daring me to defy it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For a long time I just took it straight to the recycle bin
(hey, evil conservatives with libertarian leanings can recycle, too). I would sometimes
be outside and hear a <i>thwack!</i> sound
and turn just in time to see the delivery person drive away with me trying to
call out to them, “Hey! I don’t want that!” But to no avail.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I finally Googled the title of the supplement. What did I
find out? Why, only that it’s a nationwide nuisance. There are people in places
other than Boise that are just as befuddled as I am about this
direct-to-your-door advertisement poopstorm. What’s funny is that, of course,
you can find all kinds of links that point to how you can <i>susbscribe</i> to YES! and the blurb text gives me the impression that
by God I ought to be excited about it! There are exclamation marks everywhere!
There are words like dynamic and yippity zippity! Okay, maybe not that, but you
get the idea.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyway, I finally found the number to call. It’s the Idaho Statesman
subscription desk. It’s 208.377.6200, just FYI. And it’s public information, so
I’m not breaking any rules in regard to disclosure. I’m just trying to save you
the pop-up pain of navigating the Stateman’s Web site—clearly they’re desperate
for revenue (maybe the majority of people are sick of reading “news” that’s
really just the left’s opinion on how we’re supposed to think). If you call this
number and tell them you don’t want YES! anymore, they’ll be happy to
unsubscribe you. But if you tell them how outrageous their business practices
are, they’ll transfer you to the supervisor. Now <i>that’s</i> service.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But wait, there’s more. Because there are other people out
there across the fruited plain who have tried to unsubscribe from YES! as well.
These people have spoken to the subscription departments of their local
broadsheets and they’re still, guess what, getting a large pink turd dropped on
their lawn twice a week. So be ready for a fight.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I told the Statesman that their direct delivery junk mail
constituted a security risk to my family. No, really. Because what if I’m on
vacation, okay? And what if the pink turd patrol continues to drop two bombs
per week in my absence? Astute criminals will be able to deduce, a la <i>Home Alone,</i> that my house is ripe for
the picking. And I ain’t having that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think it’s a commentary on where we’re at as a society
when our newspapers can bully us into calling them for relief. Clearly, they’re
desperate for a world that no longer exists; a world where they mattered. They’ve
been reduced to schlepping used cars and appliances and blue light specials via
ad supplements no one wants. I find it hilarious, in the end, and I rejoice in
the demise of what has amounted to a powerhouse, for decades, of the American
left (it’s also beautifully ironic that these socialists have to turn to
capitalism to save them). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Statesman’s harassment has been, perversely, at least a
little instructive. I’ll keep you updated on whether or not they continue to
shat on my lawn. Shades of the occupy movement? Oh, yes. I think so.<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-53436403294094580142012-07-30T14:19:00.000-07:002012-07-30T14:19:12.314-07:00Try Something New<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V1BSQF51zYs/UBb5w5VswwI/AAAAAAAAA4o/_547jjpN6HQ/s1600/banana.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V1BSQF51zYs/UBb5w5VswwI/AAAAAAAAA4o/_547jjpN6HQ/s320/banana.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was the banana leaves that did it for me. I tell my kids
all the time, “Don’t tell me you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it.” I’m
talking about food, of course, and in this case, banana leaves have the
starring role. They’re an essential ingredient of kalua pork, a traditional
Hawaiian dish that’s usually cooked in the ground. Mind you, I didn’t cook mine
in the ground; I used a wood fired grill. But it’s true about those banana
leaves. It ain’t kalua pork without ‘em.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And that has caused me to come over all philosophical. Because
truly, how often do we really try new things? (If you’re jet set or single,
ignore this). For those like me, who actually thrive on routine occasionally,
trying something new can be daunting. Like a kid with a plate of sushi in front
him and a look of horrified anxiety on his face. Or like a grown man trying to
bring off homemade kalua pork for the first time in his life. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sometimes there are a lot of elements that have to come
together in order for the New Thing to be a success. For instance, there might
be a need to find where in the hell to buy banana leaves in Boise, Idaho. Or
Hawaiian red salt. Or there could be a wood fired grill that refuses to
cooperate and just <i>stay</i> at around 300
degrees all day long, necessitating the native blowgun method of cooking (don’t
ask, but it involves a disused metal broom handle aimed at hot coals and the
lungs of an old trumpet player). That New Thing might cost you, in other words.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You may not even like it, and that’s okay. But at least you
can say you’ve tried it. Or that you’ve had it, which puts me in mind of my
mother telling me, “I have had it with you!” as a kid—or was that a Bill Cosby
sketch? And anyway there might be the lingering aftertaste of regret commingled
with be-bafflyfuddle-wildering victory. One might ask the question “why” one
was so stupid as to try Spam and seaweed. Look at it as a notch on your belt,
then. And try something new. Really. Try it. You’ll like it. Or not. But just
try it. It may or may not be fun or even remotely enjoyable or even perhaps a
total and complete waste of time and energy, but in the end you can at least
brag about it. I know I will.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And you know what else? My homemade kalua pork was so good I’m
going to try beef brisket the same way. I’m told I can’t (HA!) call it kalua
beef, but critics aren’t even human. Now, before I begin a new tangent I must
end this blog post.<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-49631177357675571402012-07-24T17:53:00.002-07:002012-07-24T17:53:49.125-07:00Ninjas (Hemingway style)I recently got a ca. 1950's Royal Quiet De Luxe portable typewriter. For two bucks. I'm told it's worth between two and three hundred. To me, it's priceless. It's completely mechanical, and a triumph of 20th century engineering. Ernest Hemingway reportedly composed much of his work on one of these.<br />
<br />
I'm not that professional, but I've been practicing. I wanted to share a short story of extreme absurdity with you:<br />
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Of course there are errors. Hello, that is ROUGH. But it's beyond refreshing to compose on such a magnificent machine. Like playing a different instrument, you get different results. I'll share more in the future if it's worthy. For now, I'm just having fun. Hope you had fun reading this.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-7516614121509064532012-07-22T08:35:00.000-07:002012-07-22T08:35:37.664-07:00The Writing Shed, Part Four<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Last time I wrote about the shed I was missing a wall. There
were two ends sort of dangling in the breeze like a participle. Whatever that
is.</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Since the fourth wall would not fit inside the other three
laying down (which is how ya build ‘em), I had to frame it up on the grass. As
it turned out, that was much nicer for my blown-out knees to kneel down on than
the floor. My wife helped me stand it up and get in in position, <i>sans</i> sheathing. We had to lift the
pre-drilled bottom plate over the power conduit. I didn’t install the header
for the sliding glass door until the wall was set. I wanted it to be light and
tweakable, because I had two corners to meet up with. After I nailed off the
corner, I tacked on the first piece of sheathing at the top, letting it drape,
checking for square. I wasn’t so worried about things being plumb or level
yet—the deck has settled a bit since I dug the foundation stones, so there will
be some shimming and leveling for fine tuning as weight is added to the structure.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Now that the power is inside the shed and not just sticking
up into the atmosphere, I can begin thinking about wiring up all the switches
and recepts I’ll need. I plan to use those ultra-modern LED lightbulbs, which
have become pretty reasonable price-wise. I refuse to install CFLs, because
one, they contain mercury, which is toxic (bet you didn’t know that, and please
if you use those idiotbulbs, take them to a HAZMAT drop off when they
expire—don’t chuck them into a landfill—we’ll be drinking mercury in our
groundwater pretty soon if you do). Two, CFLs irritate the shit out of me
because they take about five minutes to come on and warm up to full bright,
which is like driving for groceries in a Model T. CFLs are rubbish. Anyway, more
on electrical in the future. LED lightbulbs will contribute to efficiency, they
last forever, and they won’t tax my electrical feed. They use about one tenth
the power of an incandescent, and every little bit helps. Not for the environment. For my power bill. I'm an evil capitalist.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0SwW6UXLZpunAoUwSmY-GyB4fcHwfAhLDGq4yg-PEVayQOWxcTvjK95o7aaMEYsqQmSZDO9gT4m-tfubcajmpPuQc-QfseevR30buiVpM_LPewUhIGNKvpNHWcw2TzTUWRbXroR5hyphenhyphenAPo/s1600/IMG_0538.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0SwW6UXLZpunAoUwSmY-GyB4fcHwfAhLDGq4yg-PEVayQOWxcTvjK95o7aaMEYsqQmSZDO9gT4m-tfubcajmpPuQc-QfseevR30buiVpM_LPewUhIGNKvpNHWcw2TzTUWRbXroR5hyphenhyphenAPo/s320/IMG_0538.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I got the sliding glass door from my brother. He was looking
to replace the one on his house with a French door, and I told him we’d go
halvsies on that if I could have his old slider. Turns out I paid twenty five
bucks for it; not bad. It installed very easily. There’s a flange along the
outside edges of it, and that flange is meant to butt up to the framing. After
it’s all hunky-dory, the sheathing is installed over the top of the flange,
decently tight to the door. [I've since been informed that I should have installed the flange over top of the sheathing. But I ain't changing it.] It’s important not to screw the flange along its
top edge—it has to have room to expand and contract with temperature changes.
If you strangle off the door by running screws through the top flange, you may
end up with cracked glass.<o:p></o:p></div>
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After I got the slider figured out, I was able to continue
sheathing the rest of the shed. A 2x4 wall is pretty strong in compression, but
adding the sheathing makes it strong in shear load. Building each wall into a
square makes those walls exponentially stronger, as does adding the roof. All
that to say I’m past the point of needing to brace the walls, but it’s not done
until the roof is on. And speaking of which, my brother and I figured out a way
to build it simply, cheaply, quickly, and all while keeping it quiet and adding
a facility for it to vent from bottom to top. If a roof isn’t vented,
condensation could develop in cold weather, and extreme heat could build up in
summer, both of which make it tough not only on the shingles, but eventually
the framing. So we’re going to vent it. I’ll show you next time around, or the
time after that. Or the time after that.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Between now and then I have to fine tune the floor, moving
one foundation stone and shimming some others. I also have to build the inner
wall. This will separate the storage part of the shed from the writing part. I
already have my lawnmower parked in there. It looks great.<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-50233739716053359792012-07-17T10:34:00.000-07:002012-07-17T10:34:53.077-07:00The Writing Shed, Part Three<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Since I last updated this series, I’ve done a lot of work to
the writing shed. Plus, I began using a phrase I’m sure I’ll use often in the
future: “Babe, I’m going to the shed.”</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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I neglected to install pressure blocking on my joists when I
was framing up the floor. I clean forgot it. To compensate for this, then, I
added a layer of 3/8” underlayment, glued and stapled down. Now the floor doesn’t
sag. Of course, it rained soon after I did this, permanently raising the edges
of each sheet, so now I’ve got to get in there with a belt sander and some
40-grit and relieve the seams a bit. It wouldn’t do to have a crummy floor. I
meant to seal the whole deck with some oil base floor paint, but I was tied up
that morning, and by the time I was ready to roll, it was raining.<o:p></o:p></div>
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On to the next bit, then. I’ll fix the floor after the roof
is on.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Since I had a nice flat surface to work on, the next step was
building the trusses. This required a flurry of Googling in order to remember
how to use my Swanson Speed Square. Basically, it’s an aluminum right triangle
with cheats on it so carpenters don’t need to know trigonometric math by heart.
I figured my 4/12 pitch (4 inches of rise for every foot of run), drew the
angles, and cut my top chords. After that, with my brother’s help, I laid out
each one precisely the same (I traced the first one on the deck and then lined
up all the others on those lines, temporarily screwing each truss to the deck
for nailing). OSB gussets were glued and nailed on with ring shank nails. The
bottom chords, sections of 2x6, were cut, glued in and nailed the next day. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I suppose I should mention the power feed. The back yard is
currently in a state of recovery because I have been digging the crap out of it
lately. I had to remove an old piece of conduit that had been sticking up out
of the ground (it wasn’t live) that failed to launch. Shed plans changed over
the course of many years; what can I say. After that, I had to relocate two
sprinkler heads. While my yard was littered with trenches and big clumps of
grassy dirt, I went ahead and dug another trench for the shed’s power supply. I
used schedule 80 conduit and a 25’ length of 12-2 W/G outdoor wire—the wire
could probably have been buried directly, but I wanted to have zero problems.
This, on a 20 amp breaker, will provide plenty of power with very little
voltage drop due to resistance. I could have used smaller gauge wire, but I’d
rather be on the safe side. I need enough power to be able to run the little
air conditioner my neighbor gave me, plus a little heater (alternately, of
course).<o:p></o:p></div>
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The walls went up pretty quickly. I laid them out on 24”
centers, which is plenty for a shed. Most sheds are framed up like this, only
they use 2x3s instead of the 2x4s I used, so it’ll be plenty strong. The
easiest way to build a wall is to precut your top and bottom plates and then
layout your stud locations with both of them sandwiched together. When you’re
ready to nail everything together, you’ll have perfectly plumb and square studs.
Once the frame of the wall was nailed together, I laid out the sheathing on it before
standing it up. I nailed my OSB sheathing along the top edge of the wall,
allowing it to drape down. I then could rack the wall for plumb if needed, then
nail off the sheathing after the wall was braced. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The second wall was nearly a tragedy, because the wind came
up a bit, and I foolishly decided to stand the wall up in these gusts. April
helped me out by smooshing herself between the wall and the fence until I had
everything nailed off. The corner where the two walls meet is critical; it’s
gotta be plumb in both directions, so it was a bit of a faff until the bottom
plate was nailed down, the corner nailed off, and the free end braced. The
third wall, you’ll notice, has been framed out for a large set of double doors.
This will be the entrance to the shed. I’ve left its free end incomplete for
now, because I’m waiting on a sliding glass door for the office section. Until
that’s on site, I don’t want to build anything, just in case the rough opening
isn’t quite as advertised. It would suck to have to modify a wall I only just
built. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So the next step is to finish the walls. Once those are
done, my brother and I can roll the trusses and finish the roof. That’ll be
next month. Thanks for tuning in here. It’s pretty exciting!<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-88575580567006821712012-07-07T11:51:00.000-07:002012-07-07T11:51:51.480-07:00Fatherhood for the Clueless<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YsevdyNsFGs/T_iEtVgxKwI/AAAAAAAAA2w/IpgjVg-cmlQ/s1600/daddy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YsevdyNsFGs/T_iEtVgxKwI/AAAAAAAAA2w/IpgjVg-cmlQ/s320/daddy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Recently, at the Vineyard Men’s Retreat in Challis, I shared
a little about my own dad. The guest speaker David Parker opened the mic on the
final morning for testimonies and I jumped at the chance, because I felt a
burden to share about my broken relationship with my dad. I believe there are
plenty of men who, for one reason or another, are disconnected from their
fathers, and I wanted to encourage other guys like me who have daddy issues.</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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As I said that morning from the stage, I’ve been trying my
whole life to get my dad to engage, to show interest in my life, to be involved
in what I do and in who I am. Sadly, he has never done that; not once. The only
times we’ve been even semi-close or involved with each other have been when either
I or my mom took the initiative or reached out. Ever since the divorce, he’s
been passive, disengaged; he’s deferred to others—especially my step-mother. I
realized the most painful part of it all only a few years ago—that in the
process of destroying our family when I was two years old, he literally traded
us in for something he wanted more. That’s been borne out by a great many bits
of evidence, from how he does engage with my step-relatives to the fact that I
haven’t received a phone call, email, letter, or even a card from him in the 5+
years since I decided to see how long it might take for him to notice me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I share this not to bitch and moan. I share it only to
illustrate that these patterns do not have to continue in my life, and
especially not in the lives of my own two boys. I’ve made attempts to
reconcile, don’t get me wrong. But at this point, it’s clear he just doesn’t
want to be a dad or a grandfather to me or my brother and our families. I have
moved past that. Now I focus on my own boys. So does my brother, with his own.
We’ve had a great many conversations about this. One thing we decided upon was
that it was a net good for us simply to be present in the lives of our boys.
Sure, we mess up as dads from time to time. But we’re here. That’s the bare
minimum, and we’re accomplishing that with gusto. I personally, and I know I
can speak for my brother on this point as well, want more for me and my boys
than just to be present.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I want to involve them in my life, and I want to be involved
in theirs. Just last night, I was walking and praying and asking God to show me
what to pray for in their lives for this next year or so. He showed me. He gave
me specific things to pray for. I’m not going to share specifics here, because
it’s none of your damn business, frankly, especially if you’re not family. But
suffice it to say that what God led me to pray for in my boys is exactly what
they need for this upcoming season of life, and it’s all blessing. I can’t wait
to get started.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And if you’re like me, if you had to struggle through
boyhood and manhood for years without much of an example, take heart. God uses
that hunger to produce amazing and miraculous deeds of warrior fathering and
genuine masculinity, not only in your life, but in the lives of your kiddos.
Trust me, I know. My life is proof that God loves to use what everyone else
thinks is useless and wasted and broken, and through grace, make it something
magnificent. That’s what a man’s heart for his boys is. Magnificent.<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-73442211531633674542012-07-04T08:32:00.000-07:002012-07-17T10:35:04.742-07:00The Writing Shed, Part Two<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">I’ve had a lull in my brainiac works, so I’ve been able to
get some work done on the writing shed.</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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I started off by disrobing part of my yard with a sod
cutter. Once it was nude, I had to level the site, which I accomplished with a
shovel and rake. I then located the first foundation stone. I used some cinder
blocks I’ve had sitting around for a few years; they’re good enough for what I’m
doing. I dug ‘em down a few inches and made sure they were tamped in well, and
level. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Since I didn’t have a transit handy, I used the straightest
reclaimed piece of 2x8 I had on hand to telegraph the elevation from the
cornerstone to all the remaining foundation stones. I placed my four foot level
on top of the 2x8 and <i>voila:</i> it’s a
12 foot level. Mind you, I wasn’t aiming to get each stone perfectly in
position—just close enough to be able to shim the floor after it was built. The
goal was to get all six stones roughly at the same elevation, within less than
a quarter of an inch of each other relative to the cornerstone. The Egyptians
would probably ridicule such lax tolerances, but this is good enough for who it’s
for.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The next step involved the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pythagorean_theorem">Pythagorean Theorem</a>.
In framing, we call it the 3-4-5 rule. Basically, in order to find the
hypotenuse of a right triangle, pull measurements on each 90 degree leg that
fulfill the 3-4-5 rule, like so: if one leg is 3 feet, and the leg 90 degrees
from that is 4 feet, the hypotenuse (the side of the triangle that connects the
two right angle legs) has to be 5 feet. If it’s not, you don’t have a right
triangle, and your framing isn’t square. In my case, I pulled 6 feet on one
side and 8 feet on the other, and moved those two legs until the diagonal (the
hypotenuse) yielded 10 feet (notice that these are multiples of 3-4-5). I had
to do this several times, confirming the placement of my foundation stones.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Once all the stones were reasonably situated (of course, one
of them refused to cooperate, but that’s par for the course), I could begin
building the frame. The reclaimed materials bundle that I have managed to
procure came ready-made with a doubled-up 2x8 joist; perfect for the backbone
of my floorplan. I cut it to length and began laying out the framing, nailing
it together as I went. Now, lots of guys would probably tell you to use
hangers, but I elected to save some scratch and toenail (drive nails in on an
angle, one from each side) the floor joists together, gluing them after they’d
been nailed. Cheaper and faster, and arguably just as strong. You’ll notice from
the photos that using reclaimed lumber means putting up with random holes
(drilled for electrical in the previous installation), but they don’t affect
the strength.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My next step was insulating the floor, which was
interesting. I used 24” wide batts and installed them upside down, so that the
kraft paper faces the ground. Hopefully that will increase durability. I had to
buy insulation supports, which are just lengths of steel stock that you wedge
into the joist spaces that act as a spring and support the weight of the
insulation. It’s lame and I hate it, but it’ll do.<o:p></o:p></div>
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After all that was done, I busted out the 3-4-5 rule again
and made sure my framing was reasonably square. Sure enough, it had gone
slightly trapezoidal, but I could easily rack the thing into shape using a
length of 2x4 as a lever, prying against the ground and moving the corners back
into square. Further fine tuning was accomplished by using the factory edges of
my sheathing (the OSB floorboards) as a guide. It went pretty quickly once I
got the first sheet lined up with the framing and nailed down. I used
construction adhesive, gluing as I went along, lining up the sheathing and then
nailing it down.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZijvkRW37_I/T_RgFppZvAI/AAAAAAAAA2c/PsGHTL7m58E/s1600/IMG_0484.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZijvkRW37_I/T_RgFppZvAI/AAAAAAAAA2c/PsGHTL7m58E/s320/IMG_0484.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Now that the deck is done, I should be able to run
electrical pretty soon. Since this big 12x12 deck is nice and level and flat, I’ll
be building my trusses <i>before</i> I build
the walls, and then setting them aside until I’m ready to build the roof. I
need something like a huge workbench in order to fabricate those, and the shed
floor fits the bill perfectly. The next installment in this series will
chronicle that. <o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-29726670282052007092012-07-03T07:54:00.000-07:002012-07-03T07:54:57.610-07:00Hot Wing Beans<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WhoE52cbfR0/T_MHR8EU00I/AAAAAAAAA14/ZkVpNm_gzg0/s1600/beans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WhoE52cbfR0/T_MHR8EU00I/AAAAAAAAA14/ZkVpNm_gzg0/s320/beans.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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“Wake up,” my wife said to me. It was just past 1 AM. <br />
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“Wha?” I asked. It was a legitimate question.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“You were laughing maniacally,” she said. I was glad that
she didn’t add the word “again” to that sentence.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Oh,” I said. “I had a bad dream.” It was true. I had been
having a bad dream; one in which there is at least one unexplainable thing and
at least one impossible goal. You know how those are. That’s what makes a dream
go from vivid or just plain crazy to bad. In my case, I remember that it was
crucial I get to the curtains and close them. But I just couldn’t do it, no
matter how I tried. And then I began laughing maniacally, ostensibly to scare
off the baddies. Or maybe I <i>was</i> the
baddie.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It turns out I scared my wife awake. I felt a little bad,
mind you. What spouse wants to be awakened by the love of their life in bed
next to them, laughing like a super villain? It’s <i>no bueno.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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I don’t know if there is cause and effect in dreamland.
There are the usual suspects when it comes to bad dreams, i.e. what- did- I-
eat- last- night and all that. In my case that would have been the hot wing
beans (2 cans of pinto beans, ½ cup of brown sugar, ½ cup of Frank’s Red Hot,
and some bacon grease; simmer on low for an hour). But it just as easily could
have been the <a href="http://cpwhitemedia.blogspot.com/2012/01/sleep-notes.html">Sleep Notes.</a>
The latest entry in that file reads, <i>Someone
fell thru the F,</i> which means God knows what. Honestly, why do I bother?
Your guess is as good as mine, but I’m sure there’s potential there.<o:p></o:p></div>
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After my evil episode, in that unsettled mood that always
follows the rude awakening, I fell back to sleep and dreamt in vivid Technicolor.
It wasn’t bad, but it was borderline bad. I don’t remember details, but I do
remember it was quite a ride. I’m having friends over for a barbeque today, and
I might make the hot wing beans again, just to see if they’re the culprit.
Maybe tonight, around 1 AM, the beans will fuel some federal grant money for
dream research. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Probably though, they’ll fuel something else.<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-87698021535013294832012-06-25T10:44:00.000-07:002012-06-25T10:44:52.696-07:00Survival is Victory<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Nova-4_178c/T-ihpBbrk9I/AAAAAAAAA1k/sGqo2FXU4L0/s1600/crucible.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Nova-4_178c/T-ihpBbrk9I/AAAAAAAAA1k/sGqo2FXU4L0/s320/crucible.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">It’s true sometimes. I’ve blogged lately about fire, how we
Christians, we followers of Christ, we brave few, are called to at times to
follow our Savior right through it. In the fire, ugly things get burned clean
off us. The loving masculine hand of Christ guides us into these brave places
where life and death walk naked and can be seen for what they are. Here,
survival is victory.</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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The first time Jesus Christ leads a man through the furnace
of His severe and fearsome love, it feels like the end of all things. The
universe tilts, the earth wobbles on its axis. But like Shadrach, Meshach, and
Abednego, when we’re plunged into the flames we find it a kind of sanctuary, a
baptism that cleanses us from those things that overshadow us: the past and its
power to condemn, addictions, habits, ruts of behavior. We find in the fire,
for the first time, that there is peace. The blaze of our Savior’s gaze—His undivided
attention, so unbearable for those who have not yet bent the knee—is ultimate catharsis.
It is the homecoming for which we all hunger, whether we know it or not. <o:p></o:p></div>
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We soon find in the fire that there is nothing to fear
there. When we emerge on the other side, burnished clean and glowing, we find ourselves
stronger, lighter, bolder. Less apt to waver. Not led about by whim and fancy.
We know our purpose, we know who we are, we have beheld the magnificence of the
only wise God, and we are forever changed. Fear slides off us now. What once
might have bowed our backs, crippled our knees, and melted our hearts is now as
nothing. Our perspective has changed; we know now what matters because we have
looked death in the face and seen there is nothing there to fear.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And we sing a new song. One that cannot begin to express the
measure of pain we have felt. It is pain that matters a great deal, because we
bear the marks of Christ on our hearts now; we are bound to Him in fellowship,
in brotherhood, in understanding—because we have walked the same paths, have we
not? Our new song is one of love, but even this song won’t do enough to prove
our love for Him. We firewalkers will not stop short of pouring out our lives
for the One we have beheld in the quiet place of the crucible. We are not the
same as we were before. <o:p></o:p></div>
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We will never be the same. The embrace of God is an
irrevocable thing. For those who know, for those who have heard His call, there
is nothing else that will ever satisfy. Nothing. For us, when we say <i>I can do all things through Christ who strengthens
me,</i> we know it’s true because we have <i>lived
it.</i> Not because of us. But because of the One who reveals Himself in the
fire, who strips everything away but Himself, His everything-presence, the One
who has overshadowed All, the One who showed us that survival is victory. What
remains is pure.<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-53272674851204616862012-06-20T16:12:00.000-07:002012-06-20T16:12:02.291-07:00The Writing Shed, Part One<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PXwB-UNGxQQ/T-JUPEC4sAI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/QW15ibwoe3A/s1600/Woodpile.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PXwB-UNGxQQ/T-JUPEC4sAI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/QW15ibwoe3A/s320/Woodpile.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Reduce! Reuse! Recycle! AAGGHHH!</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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Ever had that feeling that life is snowplowing right over
you? The old to-do list is getting pretty long. It brings to mind a British
phrase I’ve come to know and love: “Ambitious, but rubbish.” If things keep up
like this, that’s precisely what it’ll be.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ve been trying to build an outdoor fireplace now for a
little while. Like, two years. It’s not only not done, but also there have been
other little projects added in the meantime… you know, while I procrastinated.
Like the cabinet my wife procured that needs to be sanded, painted, and
installed somewhere. A big picture frame from three years ago; same story. I’ve
told my boys that I’m going to build them a loft bed in their room, so they can
have more room to play (truthfully, the design behind this idea is to keep them
from leaving Legos out to ambush me barefooted in the living room, but I know
it won’t solve anything; I understand the Law of Unintended Consequences).<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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And now this: A massive pile of reclaimed lumber. It’s for
another project altogether, of course. See, a while back I got this crazy idea
that I could build a storage shed that’s mostly not a storage shed. Mostly, it
would be my home office. There would be room to store stuff on one side, sure,
but there would be a double wall dividing the two spaces. My office space would
be insulated and air conditioned and heated. Sure, it’s crazy, but I can do
crazy in my sleep. Trust me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Where did it all come from, you may ask. It started with a
random phone call from my brother, who started the conversation by asking me
what I was doing. I told him, “Writing. At the coffee shop (which is where I
normally work because I don’t have a writing shed yet).” He replied with, “You
dog,” whereupon I gave as good as I got. But it turned out he needed some help
with demolition at one of his jobs. There was a small forest of 2x4s, 2x8s, and headers, oh, my. The stuff was just going to go into a
dumpster anyway, so I quickly volunteered to help him take it down, thinking to
myself, <i>self, this is probably going to
cost you a bottle of Laphroaig’s finest.</i> Happily.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The problem is, reclaimed lumber is a little like fresh
produce. It won’t keep forever, especially out in the weather. Further, my
projects tend lately to outlast reality itself. I have really got to get
cracking on this shed, then. Have you ever considered the irony of a man who needs somewhere to keep the materials for the shed he wants to build, and how a shed would be the perfect place to keep all that stuff but how there is no shed yet because it hasn't been built? Chicken or egg. A Frenchman would shrug, turn away, and light a cigarette, saying <i>C'est la vie,</i> and it would fit well.<o:p></o:p></div>
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That pile looks big, doesn’t it? <o:p></o:p></div>
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Yes, yes it does. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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But I’ve counted up the studs and the joists—there’s not
enough there to complete the shed I’ve designed. It’s not a complaint; just an
observation. What it means is that I’ll have to go out and buy more materials.
More studs. More sheathing, for sure. Shingles, paint, caulk, nails, hardware
for the doors, and so on. I’ve got to go get a second-hand sliding glass door,
too. And a heater. And an air conditioner. You see where this is going, right?
I’ll need conduit, wiring, j-boxes, some railroad ties, and probably more than
a few sixers of cold beer.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It’s dangerous, that’s what it is. Dangerous. Because I have
more excuses than ever now. And if there’s one thing I don’t want to do, it’s
procrastinate this lumber pack into an unusable pile. Though life threatens to
plow me under, I shall stand atop victorious, hammer in one hand and empty beer
in the other, roundly belching my defiance into the face of circumstance. I
will shout from the gambrel roof of my writing shed that I Have Overcome. Soon.
Ish. Like, maybe, I dunno, late August-early September. Meh, October…possibly.<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7467749176429122531.post-30470233049817263542012-06-19T09:57:00.000-07:002012-06-19T09:57:36.098-07:00When Life Gives You Poo…<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pSJ--oXboz0/T-Cus_uarPI/AAAAAAAAA1M/W_fVoMawu_E/s1600/math.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="120" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pSJ--oXboz0/T-Cus_uarPI/AAAAAAAAA1M/W_fVoMawu_E/s400/math.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Duress reveals the innermost workings of a man. Lately, I’ve
been waking up to a fresh pile of canine manure in a random spot of my yard.
Everyday. Such an inherently hateful thing will set a thinking man’s wheels to
grinding. I’ve thought things like, </span><i style="background-color: white;">if I
catch that crap factory traipsing over my lawn in the wee hours of the morning,
why, I’m going to—!</i><span style="background-color: white;"> This is what Patrick F. McManus dubbed the “aborted
curse,” or a variant thereof. I’ve also thought things like, </span><i style="background-color: white;">maybe it’s time to pull the old paintball gun
out of mothballs.</i><span style="background-color: white;"> But that would be cruel. Just, but cruel, and especially
in this eggshell of a woman’s world we have inherited from the hippies.</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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No, I’m going to find the strongest mongrel repellant in the
world and deploy it liberally around my property. What is it dogs hate most? I
can think easily of what they love: trash, feces, rancid meat, grass (I have a
lot of that), small children, bicycle tires, bits of rope… But what do they <i>hate?</i> And how can I rid myself of this
fecal scourge?<o:p></o:p></div>
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It is an irritation. I’ve thought about whether or not the
nightly deposit is being left by a stray or a legitimate dog. If it’s a
legitimate dog, that means it has an owner. If there is an owner involved, one
of two things is happening repeatedly: <o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
<ol>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">The legitimate dog escapes confinement every morning to drop
poo bombs on my yard.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">The legitimate dog is out every morning </span><i style="background-color: white;">with its owner,</i><span style="background-color: white;"> who </span><i style="background-color: white;">allows</i><span style="background-color: white;">
it to drop poo bombs on my yard, thus providing his or her express endorsement
of said canine mischief.</span></li>
</ol>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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If case #2 is valid, I have options. I could stake out my
own yard. When I catch the culprit and its scumbag master I then have even more
options, two of which spring readily to mind. The first is that I could (I would
already be wearing three pairs of rubber gloves, of course) sprint out to the
steaming pile, pick it up, and chase the bastard down my street. But this would
require me to outrun him or her, and even with the advantage of piss, vinegar,
and adrenaline on my side, I’m still not that fast. The second option would be
to stealthily follow the offender to his or her <i>own</i> domicile, whereupon I could volley poo after retributional poo
upon <i>his </i>grass. But the human kind of
poo is far more gross. Ten to one, really. If I think this through, it’s not a
realistic option, but it’s fun to consider nevertheless. Awkward headlines
notwithstanding (<i>In other news, a
Meridian man was arrested early this morning for taking a dump in someone’s
yard…</i>) <o:p></o:p></div>
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In the end though, I’ll probably just spend an outrageous
amount of money buying dog repellent that doesn’t work in an effort to expunge
someone else’s dog crap from my little corner of paradise. What was that about
an ounce of prevention? Oh, well… I forget. Something about being worth it or something.
I’m still angry about it, as I should be. I don’t own animals because I don’t
enjoy picking up feces out of my yard. It’s pretty simple. And that some
jackass is out there yucking it up thinking he has the best of both worlds—canine
love and a clean yard—payback is going to be a bitch. A cast iron, Mongolian
cluster of a BEE-OTCH. Because next time that walking crap factory sets foot in
my yard, I’ll be there. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Yes sir. I’m going to set out a huge bowl of doggie snacks
as bait, and then camp out next to it. Right on top of Rover’s preferred
latrine area IN MY YARD. And when I hear little munchies going on at about two
AM, I’m going trigger my industrial strength aerosol air horn right in Rover’s
face. Granted, I may have quite a lot of cleanup to do immediately after that,
but it will be worth it. Because that will be the last time for a long time,
let me tell you.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Dogs who poo in my yard need to BEWARE OF OWNER, let me tell
you. And it’s a life lesson: When life gives you poo, camp out and grab your
air horn. Like duh.<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0